All the Better Part of Me

by Ringle, Molly

  Instead, the clock was ticking toward a September due date, and everything was massively fucked up. He didn’t know my feelings. I wasn’t even sure of my feelings. I still wasn’t properly out of the closet, because I was too scared, and I was exhausted from being scared all the time, but didn’t know how to be any other way.

  And ultimately, I couldn’t get out of this mess without letting someone down or screwing up someone’s life or losing something I wanted. I knew that without even knowing what exactly I wanted yet.

  The tears slipped down my face, one from each eye.

  “Blow it out.” Andy’s voice was gentle.

  I drew in a shaky breath and blew out the candle.

  He reached through the smoke. His thumb grazed my cheek, wiping away a tear. “Want to forget about it for tonight, and eat cake and play video games?”

  I sniffled. “Yeah.”

  CHAPTER 26: UNDER PRESSURE

  Unknown number: So she told you. What do you plan to do about it, you little prick?

  I awoke the next morning after a few restless hours of sleep to find the text. Alarm rocketed through me, as if the message were a blackmail note made of cut-out newspaper letters.

  Sinter: Who is this?

  Unknown number: It’s Sebastian, who the fuck do you think, wankstain

  I relaxed a little and glanced around the guest room. It was Sunday morning, and Andy was in the shower, from the sound of it.

  Sinter: Oh. Should’ve known from the insults

  Sebastian: Yeah, you should have. Have you any idea the suffering you’ve put her through?

  Sinter: I obviously didn’t know until yesterday. And I feel terrible.

  Sebastian: How is she supposed to get over you with a bloody great piece of you growing inside her?

  Sinter: This was absolutely never my intention. We took precautions, it failed, she chose this, I didn’t know … I feel awful though

  Sebastian: Boo hoo! I’ve known for weeks and have been wanting to punch your lights out. Just needed to tell you

  Sinter: Duly warned. Cheers

  Sebastian: Are you shagging men now then?

  Sinter: Why in the world would I tell you that

  Sinter: Sigh. Yes. I am

  Sebastian: Then don’t give her any false hopes. Bugger off. The less she hears from you the better

  Sinter: I understand but I need to be in touch at least a certain amount. About the baby. I’m really going to try not to hurt her

  Sebastian: You already fucking have and still fucking will if you stick around

  Sinter: Yes. Fine. And I’m sorry. Sorry you have to put up with it too

  Sebastian: You’d better do the right bloody thing by her

  Sinter: I will as soon as I figure out what that is

  He didn’t respond. Down the hall, the shower shut off.

  Sinter: I’m glad you’re there with her. She deserves someone who loves her

  Sebastian: Yeah she fucking does.

  Sinter: So … how’s the new album coming along?

  Sebastian: Fuck off. We’re done here. Go shag your mate

  Sinter: Right. Nice talking to you

  I sat staring across the room, dazed, angry, insulted, and obscurely frightened.

  Upon hearing the bathroom door squeak open, I stood and went to the hall.

  Andy came out, wet-haired and shirtless, in pajama pants. We paused to regard one another warily. Our evening of snacks and video games had gone decently—it felt like a truce, at least. No sex, but before I had shuffled off to the guest room he had caught me and hugged me and mumbled that things were going to be okay.

  “Hey,” he said.

  “Hey. Nice chat I just had.” I handed him the phone.

  Without his glasses, he squinted to read the texts. “Does that say ‘wankstain’?”

  “Of course it does.”

  He handed me back the phone. “Charming.”

  “Sebastian always is.”

  “Ignore him, dude. Seriously. From the sound of it, he was just super jealous.” Andy walked off down the hall.

  “So are we cool?” I called after him, pathetically.

  “Yes, wankstain.”

  Andy and I maintained a companionable not-talking-about-it arrangement for the next week. He gave me space to process the situation and didn’t ask anything of me, not even sex, although he accepted sex the couple of times I proposed it. Our intimacy didn’t hold quite the adventurously delightful vibe it used to, given the pressures on my mind, but it still comforted me for the space of an hour here and there. Since I wasn’t sleeping well, I kept to the guest room rather than disturb him by flopping around in his bed.

  The adoption idea was the simplest option by far, and I knew I should accept it. But I failed. Questions and objections kept sprouting in my mind like weeds.

  Was it a boy or a girl? What would they look like? Would they end up tall like me, short like Fiona, or split the difference and be in between? Would they enjoy theatrical endeavors like both of us? Or would they take after their grandparents—either set—and be more into finance and business? I should probably be around to nurture any artistic side just in case. The world needed more artists; it squashed too many as it was.

  What if they were bi, gay, trans, queer? If so, I also ought to be there to make sure they were properly supported. At the very least, no matter who I caught them kissing at age fifteen, I wouldn’t shame them and give them mental health issues for the next decade. I would try to understand what they liked and wanted in life, and do my best to relate to it, unlike some parents I could name.

  Ugh. Why spin out this imaginary future? Fiona didn’t expect me to raise the child. She didn’t even want to herself. My parents would be appalled if I announced I was becoming a single dad—although surely, before long, the existence of a grandchild would soften them up …

  Argh. Stop.

  And what about Andy? Not that we were dating, exactly, but I did want to take into consideration his general plans for life, what with the feelings we might have caught for one another.

  “Do you think you’ll ever want kids?” I asked him, a week after Fiona had dropped the bombshell on me.

  “I guess eventually.” Andy jerked sideways on the couch as he steered his Mario Kart car to zoom ahead of mine. “Like, I always thought it’d be when I was thirty or thirty-five and in a committed relationship and knew what the hell I was doing.”

  “No one knows what they’re doing at first, though, do they? Jesus, turtle shell.” My car collided with the shell and crashed into an ice wall. I pushed my thumb against the button to accelerate back onto the track.

  “I guess, but …” He trailed off. “Why? Have you always figured you’d have kids?”

  “I have, is the weird thing. Like with every one of my girlfriends, I remember thinking, ‘I wonder if this is the woman I’ll have children with.’ Though, funny enough, I never thought that with Fiona.”

  “But now?” He dodged around a car spinning out of control and sped past, his face neutral, locked onto the game.

  “I’m still not thinking of raising a child with her. Just, it’s been bugging me that I might never know this kid. I’d always be wondering how they were doing, whether I could have helped with something.”

  “Maybe you can set up some deal with the adoptive parents. Some way to visit occasionally or get news.”

  “I don’t know. There’s probably laws about that. Argh.” My complaint was for both the hypothetical situation and the fact that my car had flown off a cliff and had to be airlifted up by a friendly cloud.

  “Could be awkward,” he conceded. “Having them be the ‘real’ parents while you’re this other dad guy who shows up once in a while for a Saturday trip to the zoo.” Andy’s car soared across the finish line.

  “Exactly. It sounds horrible. I’d be the outsider, again. Like I always am.”

  “You’re not always.”

  “I am with my parents—I don’t fit in at
my own fucking house. I’m a third wheel around Julie and Daniel. Your family’s great to me, but I don’t actually belong to it. In the queer community—well, I’m not even properly out, so it’s hard to feel like I fit in there either.”

  “That could be fixed by coming out,” he said dryly.

  I ignored that sticky point for the time being. “With theater shows, I belong for a while, but it’s short-lived.” My car finally crossed the finish line, and I rested the controller on my leg. Confetti exploded on-screen. “I’m part of the cast for a couple of months, then it’s over, we go our separate ways, and I have to find a new role. And another, and another. Forever.”

  “You love your job.” He sounded perplexed.

  “Yes. I do. I’m … getting off the point. Which is that I want something more stable when we’re talking about something as important as my kid. I don’t want to be an outsider in yet another situation.” I kept watching the cars spin and flash in the demo portion of the game.

  “Then don’t be in the situation at all.” He sounded gentle, though his message wasn’t, exactly. “Let it be someone else’s deal. Have your own kids later.”

  “When? How? Say I do come out, and end up with … some guy.” You, for instance. “And we want kids someday. Then we’re in the position of adopting. Which is kind of stupid when my own actual biological child is being offered to me right now.”

  “But what if now isn’t the right time?”

  “Is that how you’d feel, if it were you?”

  He threw down the controller and got up. “Yes, I just said! Why would I be ready for a kid? I’m twenty-five and I don’t even have a cat or a houseplant.”

  “You have a plant.” I pointed to a potted, palm-like thing in the corner.

  He glanced at it in disdain. “That’s fake.”

  “Oh. It is?”

  “Yes. So you’re working all these temporary jobs and living with me and my fake plant, and what are you even talking about? Bringing a baby into that? Here?” He opened his arms to indicate the apartment in general.

  “If I was going to take the kid, I’d get my own place. Obviously.”

  This living arrangement was only supposed to be temporary, after all. We’d lived in separate places all our lives up until then. Finding my own place was sensible, and suggesting it shouldn’t cause me this stab of pain.

  “You’re not thinking this through,” he said. “The impact it would have on your life.”

  My gaze trailed across the apartment, all electronic gadgets and college-era hand-me-down furniture and geeky fandom paraphernalia. Most of it probably hadn’t been washed or dusted in years. A space where you’d raise a baby would be a different world: cleaned regularly, safety-proofed, with, what, a crib, diapers, stroller? I didn’t even know. I knew nothing.

  “You’re probably right,” I said, defeated.

  Later, though, when he came into the bathroom to brush his teeth as I was finishing brushing mine, he met my glance in the mirror and said, “I do think it’s noble of you. To care what happens to your kid. Not everyone would care.”

  I spat out the toothpaste and stepped aside to let him reach the sink. “You would care. If it were yours.”

  He wet his toothbrush under the tap. “I suppose. Although now we’re back to that ‘how the hell would I have gotten anyone pregnant’ question.”

  I acknowledged the point with a nod and clinked my toothbrush back into the mug on the counter.

  “Anyway,” he said, gaze lowered, “I’ll respect whatever you choose. I’d be kind of an asshole of a best friend if I didn’t.”

  “Even if I end up deciding I want to be in this kid’s life somehow?”

  “Yeah. Besides, you’re right. The kid would be lucky to know you.”

  “I never said that.”

  “Still. They would.”

  “Thank you,” I said quietly, though without as much happiness as I wanted to feel.

  A best friend. I was lucky to have that much.

  No point in longing for him to be more.

  Sinter: I can’t sleep. I’ve been wondering, do we know if it’s a boy or a girl?

  Fiona: Don’t know yet. That ultrasound’s in another couple of weeks. Shall I find out and tell you?

  Sinter: Please. Thanks

  Fiona: That’s the reason you can’t sleep?

  Sinter: Well it’s one of many reasons

  Fiona: How is Andy taking all this?

  Sinter: He’s being a good friend. Listening if I want to talk about it

  Fiona: I thought you were together. Although I suppose you only said it was complicated

  Sinter: We aren’t really together. Complicated is a good word

  Fiona: Even more so now I suppose

  Sinter: Yeah. Btw would you know yet if it was twins or anything?

  Fiona: Only one heartbeat when they’ve done checkups so it probably isn’t

  Sinter: You got to hear their heartbeat?

  Fiona: Yes. It’s quite fast because they’re so small

  Sinter: Wow that’s so cool. Do you think they’ll give you one of those blurry pictures when you get the ultrasound?

  Fiona: Don’t know, they might. Do you want a copy if they do?

  Sinter: Yeah I’d like to see it. Even though all the other ones I’ve ever seen look like Rorschach tests and I can’t make sense of them

  Fiona: Nor can I. I’ll send it regardless once I have it

  Sinter: Thank you. How are you feeling?

  Fiona: Less sick but still tired. I wish I were writing

  Sinter: Then write :)

  Fiona: I should but I’m uninspired. I don’t know

  Sinter: Try writing something today anyway. Just for the hell of it. It doesn’t have to be good, just try

  Fiona: Perhaps I will do, just for you

  Sinter: Last question for tonight. Sebastian isn’t going to show up and kill me is he?

  Fiona: I doubt it. :) He’s more bark than bite

  Sinter: If you say so

  Fiona: I promise to ask him not to kill you

  Sinter: Thanks. Maybe I can sleep now

  Fiona: Try at least. Goodnight love

  CHAPTER 27: SITUATION

  A FEW NIGHTS LATER, ANDY CAME HOME FROM WORK BRIGHT-EYED AND FLUSHED. “WE GOT IT! THE EMPRESS Miyoko tie-in!” He dropped his messenger bag on the floor and threw his arms around me.

  I hugged him back even though it took me a second to figure out what he was talking about. “Oh, no way, the game for the TV show?”

  “Yes! We get to make it!” He jumped up and down, still holding me.

  I laughed. “Sweet. Congrats. So, you’ll personally get to work on it?”

  “Yeah, and here’s the crazy part. It’s, uh …” He reached down to retrieve his bag and move it to a chair. “In Tokyo. They’ll be sending over two of us for, like, five or six months, to work with the animators in the studio.”

  A pang hit me, lancing straight through my center. “You’re going to Tokyo? For five or six months?”

  His smile twisted. “They’ve asked me. I’ve said yes. But I wouldn’t leave till the end of August, beginning of September, around there.”

  It was April. The end of summer wasn’t far enough away by my standards.

  “September. Oh.” I folded my arms, feeling cold. I gazed blankly in the direction of the fake tree.

  “Yeah.” He became more subdued. “Right around baby due date.”

  “Well, right, that’s fine. I ought to get my own place anyway one of these months.”

  “Suppose I’ll have to sublet this place, or just let it go.” He set his elbows on the back of the chair. “But hey, maybe you can come visit.”

  “Sure. Though, in one possible scenario, my life would be a lot more complicated by the end of this year. Still, who knows.”

  He looked down. “I guess it’d be kind of insane. Also a really expensive plane ticket just for a visit.”

  “I might, though. Anyway, we’d ke
ep in touch.”

  “Definitely. All those times you were in England, we kept in touch just fine.”

  “Daily,” I agreed. “With flirtation.”

  He met my eyes and smiled rakishly, and my breath hitched. Oh God, an ocean between us? I couldn’t live through it again.

  But I had to. I was being a selfish wimp.

  “This is your dream job.” I said it to convince myself rather than him. “Your favorite series, a once-in-a-lifetime chance. You should totally do it.”

  “And this baby is a once-in-a-lifetime chance for you.” He sounded wistful, and our gazes met again for a moment, then separated. “Might be a challenging year for us both. But if it’s what we want …”

  I nodded.

  I allowed the bitter sentiment for a few seconds: so much for him being in love with me. Dangle a dream job in Tokyo in front of him and he was ready to hand off his apartment, leap onto a plane, and leave me behind.

  But that was unfair. I’d worked abroad in England four times, and he wouldn’t have dreamed of talking me out of it. He deserved this, and I supported him in pursuing it.

  Meanwhile, I deserved the chance at my baby, and he would support whatever my choice was there, and eventually we’d reunite. Friends throughout.

  But I didn’t see how things could possibly feel the same between us anymore after we’d gone down these paths, which were already diverging and pulling us apart.

  “I’m going to miss the crap out of you,” I admitted.

  “I can still sext you from Tokyo.”

  “Yeah? You better.”

  He came around the chair, set his hands on my hipbones, and drew me up against him. “Going to help me celebrate or what?”

  I bent my head to kiss his neck, breathing the warm scent of him, still there, still close. “Hell yeah.”

  Sign off on adoption. Forget the fact that I had a kid out there somewhere. Never tell my parents—or at least, put it off eighteen years or so. Continue on, child-free, follow Andy across the globe if he let me, come out of the closet and become his boyfriend if he was up for that too, find acting work wherever I happened to be. It didn’t sound like a bad life.