by Melissa West
My phone buzzed and I peered down to see a text from Colt.
Having fun doing the baby thing?
Very funny. I’m currently in car seat hell.
He replied with a smiley face. Just think about our plans later.
Are these good plans or bad?
Most definitely good.
I smiled as I put my phone away, already eager to see him later.
“Okay . . . maybe we should have started in bedding,” Maggie said, a confused expression on her face.
I burst out laughing. “Good idea.”
We spent the next hour perusing adorable bedding—pinks and yellows and purples. Then we walked over to the cribs and matched the bedding to the crib, settling on a white one we both loved. We rocked in all the gliders, then checked out the highchairs and strollers, and I felt better and better about my decision to take her shopping. Counseling was about helping others, and it felt good to help Maggie out. I thought back to my meeting with Dr. Hamilton, about my questioning whether I should switch majors. I smiled at how far I’d come. A few months ago, I wasn’t sure what to do, and now I couldn’t imagine doing anything else. I knew I walked a fine line between professionalism and becoming overly invested, but as Colt had said, it was human nature to care. He always managed to say whatever I needed to hear. God, I loved that boy.
I stopped walking as soon as my thoughts sunk in. Love. That wasn’t right. Colt and I had just begun to grow close. This wasn’t love. Not yet. But I had to admit that I was falling hard and fast. I couldn’t seem to stop myself, despite my best efforts to take things slow. Colt understood me in a way no one had ever understood me, and the freedom to be myself had become intoxicating. I pulled out my phone and reread his last text, my heart dancing as I read each word again. Yeah . . . I was definitely falling.
Maggie and I finally circled back to the car seats, and I found a Chicco that looked like it had all the safety features and was moderately priced. “Maggie, this one looks . . . Maggie?”
I looked all around the aisle. She had disappeared. I abandoned the cart and began rushing down the hall, petrified that I had lost her. But then I remembered that she wasn’t a toddler. She was practically an adult, only a few years younger than me. I calmed myself down to a walk and peered around. Finally, my gaze locked on a head in the infant clothing section that looked a lot like Maggie’s. I made my way through the maze of clothing racks to find her standing in front of a rack of layettes. I opened my mouth to ask what she was doing, when I noticed tears rolling down her face.
“Maggie, are you okay?”
She turned her head to me, a giant smile on her face. “I’m sorry. I just saw all these clothes and had to come look. I mean, look at this.” She held up a tiny white outfit with matching bonnet. “I’m going to have a little person soon. A little person tiny enough to fit in this. It’s just . . .” She wiped away her tears. “I’m scared and worried, but I’m also so excited. I love this baby already.”
I smiled. “Of course you do, sweetie. And it’ll work itself out. Things usually do.” I thought of Colt’s accusation that I couldn’t have a conversation without using some saying and found myself smiling wider. How had he learned my tics so quickly?
“Let’s get it,” I said, excitedly.
“No,” she said, shaking her head. “It’s forty dollars. I couldn’t.”
“I insist.” I took the outfit from her. “And I think I found a car seat.”
She shook her head again. “What would I do without you?”
“You don’t have to worry about that. Just worry about that baby in there. She’s all that matters now.”
She ran a gentle hand over her belly. “Little Addie.”
I covered her hand with my own. “Little Addie.”
***
I closed the door to my car once back at Charleston Haven, my heart full of contentment, and then I caught sight of the guy sitting on the bottom step leading up to my apartment, and my heart soared. I started for him, a slow smile creeping across my face.
“You’re early,” I said as I reached him. We were supposed to meet an hour later, so I could get changed.
“What can I say? I couldn’t wait.” He stood, and I noticed a small bag in his hands.
“What is that?”
He grinned. “Just a little something.” I reached for it and he pulled the bag out of my grasp, teasing me. “Patience.”
“Says the person who couldn’t wait.”
He leaned down to kiss my cheek, then neck. “Good point.”
I unlocked my apartment, we slipped inside, and Colt set the bag on the counter. “Now?” I asked, bouncing with excitement. He had bought me a present. No one gave me presents unless it was my birthday or a holiday.
“Now,” he said, watching me.
I gave him another small smile before glancing into the open bag. My smile widened as I reached inside and pulled out a candle. It was a deep ivory with flecks of something baked into the wax, clearly handmade and very likely from the Market. A tingly sensation moved through me as I leaned down to smell it—all apples and cinnamon. “This is amazing,” I said, my eyes flicking up to his.
“I noticed you had several in your room. I thought maybe you collected them or something.”
“I do. It’s perfect.” I turned the candle around, searching for what it represented, but not seeing anything. It must have fallen off. “What does it do?”
Colt’s eyebrows drew together. “Um . . . burns? It’s a candle.”
I laughed. “I know what it is. I mean, what does it do, what will it bring me?”
His expression turned from confusion to worry. “I . . . It’s a candle.”
I burst out laughing then, unable to stop. “I’m not crazy.”
“Debatable.”
“I collect mood candles. Like Peace and Clarity. Stuff like that. You burn them and they bring to you whatever the candle promises.”
“So . . . let me get this straight.” He was smiling now, on the verge of laughing. “You burn a candle and you believe it controls your mood. Not your own mind. But the candle?”
“Well, I—”
He swept me into his arms before I could continue, kissing me, a smirk still on his face. “You are the strangest person I’ve ever met. But I’m glad you’re mine.”
“Yours, huh? You must be pretty lucky to snag such an awesome chick,” I teased, rising onto my toes to kiss him again.
He pulled me close, his eyes speaking a thousand emotions I knew we weren’t ready for him to say. “The luckiest.”
Chapter Eighteen
“So . . . what you’re saying is that you relate to Maggie and are afraid of Colt?”
I leaned back into Rose’s leather sofa, her beside me in the matching chair. It had been two weeks since I’d taken Maggie shopping, and two weeks since Colt gave me the first orgasm of my life . . . and then the second the night of the shopping trip. I still couldn’t figure out how he had managed it with so little effort.
I had stopped by Rose’s for another teaching session, which basically meant I would unload my feelings with her, she would give her opinion, and we would call it teaching, though I realized it sounded a lot like therapy. But it wasn’t. At least that was what I told myself. I only had time to see her every few weeks, so it wasn’t like structured therapy anyway.
“I’m not afraid of him. I just think he’s the first guy I’ve ever been with who’s made me feel anything, and it’s a little intimidating.”
She reached for her pack of cigarettes, then remembering my unease—even though I had never mentioned a word of it—set it back down. “What do you mean ‘feel’? Are you having feelings of love?”
“Um . . . I don’t know. But that’s not the feeling I meant.” I closed my eyes, cursing myself for bringing this up to Rose.
R
ose opened her mouth, then closed it back, her hawk-like eyes squinting as though trying to probe my brain for information. “For once, I’m the clueless one. It’s rare, but it happens. Care to enlighten me?”
Oh my God. This was not happening. “Forget I said anything. It’s—”
“Kara, pretend that you were in my shoes. Would you want the patient to trust you?”
I sighed. “Yes.”
“Well, then. Continue.”
I eyed the cuckoo clock against the wall beside her desk, then the shelf full of weird cat trinkets on the other side of the desk. Why didn’t Olivia tell me that her therapist was a nut job? I mean, a cat dressed up like a clown? That had to be in some psychology book somewhere with a description for signs of crazy beside it.
“Kara . . .”
“Fine,” I said, lowering my voice to a barely there whisper. “I was talking about having an orgasm. I had my first one with Colt and we weren’t even having sex.” I placed my hands over my face, humiliated beyond belief that I just said all that to a therapist. Olivia’s therapist! Ugh!
Rose leaned forward. “So you’re saying your first sexual experience was with Colt?”
“No. Don’t you remember the abortion talk?”
Rose kept her eyes on me. “I see you and Olivia share a love for the dramatics. Yes, I heard you the first five times we talked about the abortion—even though we’ve really yet to actually talk about it. But having sex does not mean that it was an experience. It’s just your body and another person’s body, unless you make the decision to feel and participate during that interaction. It sounds to me like you had yet to feel . . . until you were with Colt. Am I right?”
I stared off into Rose’s office, remembering the first time I met Colt. The first time I spoke to him on the phone. The first time I realized that my heartbeat picked up whenever someone said his name.
Feeling a sudden surge of bravery, I picked up my head and looked her squarely in the eyes. “You’re right.”
“Then why does it surprise you that you were able to have an orgasm with him, but no one else? We are women, Kara. We are complicated beings who tend to need something deeper to find our satisfaction. Sometimes that something is the need for comfort. Sometimes that something is the want from someone else. But oftentimes, we just want to feel a connection, and if that connection is there, the sky’s the limit.”
“So you feel this is normal? To be nineteen and just now experiencing an orgasm?”
Rose smiled. “Very normal. Though, I doubt this is your first orgasm. You’re human, after all. It’s just your first orgasm someone other than yourself or your shower head or whatever helped you reach.”
I jerked up. “What? Ick! I don’t—”
Rose lifted her hand. “Spare me. Despite this impeccable complexion, I wasn’t born yesterday.”
I leaned back into the sofa again, contemplating my reasons for continuing to see Rose. God, she was difficult. I wondered if Olivia found her sessions this frustrating.
“But . . .” Rose continued, “while I find your sexual experiences very normal, I’m not sure I find your relationship with Maggie to be wholly good for you.”
“Maggie?” I asked, surprised at the change in subject.
Rose pulled her notepad from the table beside her desk and jotted something down. I rose higher in my seat, craning my neck to see, but she set the notebook back down and tsked at me for trying to look. “I am a professional here. We agreed that you’ll learn through this experience, so at the end of our . . . agreement, I will show you my notes. Deal?”
I tilted my head uneasily. “I feel like I’m agreeing to something I don’t understand.”
Rose laughed. “Your name should be irony, dear. That sentiment is the very issue I have with Maggie.” My eyebrows threaded together, so Rose continued. “Your mother all but forced you to have an abortion at sixteen. Maggie, a sixteen-year-old pregnant girl, is having her baby, and you, against all warning from your boss, Tori, are getting too involved with the girl. Don’t you think it’s possible that you are using Maggie to fill the void left behind by your baby?”
I shook my head. “No. That’s crazy. I didn’t have a baby. I had a cell. Or whatever. I was barely pregnant.”
“At just six weeks, your baby had a heartbeat. I do not judge those who choose to have an abortion. It’s a personal decision, a difficult decision. But that doesn’t change the fact that the baby is indeed a baby, even in those early weeks.”
I wrapped my arms around myself like they could shield me from her words, make them untrue. “That can’t be right. I’ve Googled it. Babies are tiny at that age. The size of a lima bean. Smaller.”
“That doesn’t make that baby any less a living being.”
“But I thought . . .” I tried to swallow, but couldn’t seem to make my throat work. I pictured my baby, with my eyes and hair. “No, she wasn’t real.”
“She?”
“Oh . . . I meant . . . it.”
Rose leaned back in her chair. “Maggie’s baby is a girl, isn’t she?”
“Yes, but that doesn’t mean anything. I don’t know why I said she.”
“Kara, dear, you are walking a dangerous line here. I suggest you request for Maggie to be transferred to another counselor. There is nothing healthy about this. Nothing at all.”
I stood up, growing frustrated. “This is ridiculous. She is just a girl that I’m trying to help. What’s so wrong with helping someone? It’s human nature!”
“There is nothing wrong with helping another person . . . if your motives are pure, and I’m not sure yours are.”
“I don’t know what you mean.”
“You know that what I’m saying is true, Kara. I can tell by the look on your face.”
I shook my head, anger building in my chest. “Well, thanks for your opinion, doctor. I’ll try to take it into consideration. I have to go.”
“Kara, wait,” Rose said, standing. “I’m just trying to help you see the root problem. Just like Tori. Age is a magnificent magnifying glass. You’re able to see the complexities that are often overlooked when you’re young. I think it would help you to talk about this openly.”
“I . . . This . . . I have to go.”
“Kara . . .”
“I’m sorry, I have to be somewhere. This . . . I can’t.”
And then I swept from her office and down the sidewalk. I made it all the way to the corner before I burst into tears.
Chapter Nineteen
I arrived back at the apartment to find Olivia and Preston bundled up on the sofa, watching a movie.
“Hey, Kar,” Preston said. “You okay?”
I stared pointedly at Olivia. “You didn’t tell me your therapist was insane.”
“Um, I think that’s exactly what I said, actually. Rose is fantastic, but she’s definitely unconventional in a lot of ways. What, is she having you sit in on a chat with the ghost sisters or something?” Olivia laughed, but her smile slipped away as she caught sight of my face. “Oh my God, have you been crying? Do I need to call her? What did she say to you?”
I shook my head. “No. Nothing. It’s fine. She just has pretty strong opinions is all.”
Preston sat up. “Do you need me to do something, Kar?”
I smiled, glad to see my best friend in his expression. The concern that always appeared whenever I was sad. I missed Preston, but I didn’t want him anywhere near this problem. I could see his face now. Yeah, you remember my abortion? Well, I’ve grown attached to a girl who’s having a baby, because, you know, apparently I regret that we didn’t have ours. A shudder moved down my back. “Nah, I’m good. Really. I just need a shower.”
I closed the door to my room and slumped against it. Great, now I was shutting my friends out, too. But how could I talk to them about this? I couldn’t.
I c
licked over to Colt’s name and typed out: R U around?
Colt: Still at work. Want to get together later?
Me: Definitely. Your place ok?
Colt: Leaving now.
I grinned, Colt’s face on my mind as I slipped in the shower.
***
I walked up the steps to Colt’s apartment, and rounded the stairwell just as he was closing the door.
“Oh, hey, I thought we were—”
His lips quirked up. “You’re cute, do you know that?” He walked over and took my hands in his, then kissed my lips easily. “I thought we could go to a movie. What do you think?”
“A movie?” I grinned. It’d been a long time since I’d been to a movie. “What movie?”
He nodded toward the steps. “I chose three I thought you would like, all of which had showtimes around the same time.” He passed me a Post-it note with movie names and showtimes beside it. “I just thought you could use a distraction tonight.”
I leaned over and kissed him again. “You know, you’re quickly becoming my favorite person.”
“Ah, see, that’s been my plan all along. Conquer the favorite person position. I supposed I was up against Olivia or Preston. Glad I’m winning the race for first.”
I laughed. “Yeah, well, lately Olivia and Preston are the same person, so you’re definitely surpassing them.”
He opened the passenger side door to his 4Runner and waited for me to enter. “Thanks,” I said, smiling. “Most guys don’t hold car doors anymore. Are you sure you’re real?”
He grinned back. “Product of being raised by a woman without a man around. But back to Olivia and Preston, are they being distant or something?”
I considered the question. “No. Not distant. Just different. Though I’m starting to wonder if I’m the different one. I just feel like I can’t really open up to either of them like I used to. Like if I say something, it’s immediately going to the other, which shouldn’t matter. They’re my best friends. But ever since they’ve been together, it’s just changed things a bit. It’s stupid. Let’s talk about something else. Tell me about your day.”