“Babe, the boys would never let me live it down if I went to a play instead of watching the games. I mean, c'mon.”
“But I told you about the tickets several weeks ago.”
“I'm sorry, hon, I forgot about it. You sure I knew it was a Saturday? I would never schedule something during college ball.”
“I don't know. Maybe not.”
“C'mon, don't be mad. Call Linus. He loves that kind of stuff.”
She had called Linus and the 'boys' came and watched the games, shouting and standing, shaking fists, resting their feet on her coffee table. By noon beer bottles were scattered around the room that now smelled like a bar. They ate greasy chicken wings, onion rings, and fried mozzarella sticks, the crumbs scattering on her clean carpet. Before she left for the play, she stood in the foyer watching the scene in her living room, and felt a hole in the pit of her stomach, thinking, was this marriage just a continuation of the loneliness she felt all her life?
The other bookmark was a Saturday morning six months before he died. She and Dan sat at the breakfast nook in their condo sipping coffee. She worked on a list in her pocket sized notebook of the errands she must make that day: dry cleaner, Whole Foods, Nordstroms. Across from her, she could feel Dan's foot moving up and down in what she knew to be nervous energy. He asked, without shifting his gaze from the window, “What're you doing tonight?”
She wrote her grocery list as she answered him. “Opera with Linus. You?”
“Poker.”
“Should I add creamer to the grocery list?”
“I don't know.” He poked her notebook with his finger and she looked at him, noticing the dark smudges under his eyes. “You want to do something together tomorrow?” he said. “Maybe a movie?”
She smiled and shook her head. “We wouldn't be able to agree on what to see, I'm certain.”
He sighed, looked out the window. “Probably not.” He paused and rubbed his eyes. “My dad called this morning, ostensibly to tell me about this guy I knew in high school who just took his company public and is now worth a half a billion dollars.”
She went to the refrigerator to see if they needed lettuce. “Good for him.”
“Right. Good for him.” He got up from the table and poured more coffee into his cup. “You think that'll ever happen to me?”
She shut the refrigerator door and turned to look at him. “Worth a half a billion? Is that what you mean?”
He shrugged, nodded, took a sip of coffee. “Yeah.”
“If we keep working hard, maybe.”
He spoke quietly, his voice so calm as to seem disengaged. “You really think that all it takes is hard work? That's so naïve. You know the way the world works, just when you think you have it all figured out, wham, life or some asshole causes everything to blow up.”
She put down her pencil and closed her notebook. “Why do you have to be worth a half a billion dollars? Can't it be enough to just enjoy our life? I mean, when will it ever be enough?”
He pushed against the table and stood. His voice was loud and he began to pace back and forth in front of her. “Because I won't know who I am if I can't make Deep Black the next huge game. Don't you get that?”
She stared at him, bewildered. “No, I guess I don't. Is this just a mission to please your father? Because he's proud of you regardless of what happens with our game.”
He shouted now and raked his hand distractedly through his blond curls like he might pull the strands from their roots. “This is more complicated than just pleasing my father. I'm doing this because he never had the chance to do it himself. He was raised in poverty and had to scrape his way to lower middle class. I refuse to let another generation of Johnson men be ashamed of their life.”
“This life we have is good, better than 95% of people in America. We've had opportunities to go the best schools and have a successful business. We have the American dream. Honey, it's just one product. If this one doesn't work, we'll come up with another. Don't you get that?”
He was hoarse from shouting and leaned his forehead on the refrigerator door, speaking into it, sounding resigned and sad. “I get that you still think like a small town girl, all wide-eyed and grateful. That's what I get.” He jerked back and opened the refrigerator. He pulled out a carton of half-and-half. “This is empty.”
She raised her eyebrows and was cool when she said, “I just asked you if you needed more creamer.”
He looked at her, face blank. “Did you?”
The clock struck 11:00 on the bedside table, pulling her from the memory. She pulled the bed covers up to her chin. She hadn't realized in that moment with Dan, or the subsequent months after, how dark and hopeless he had become. She understood now that he must have been frantic to get the game to work, especially as they crept closer and closer to the date the loan was due. Suddenly it came to her that his mind was like a reflection of Deep Black - no matter what you did, you couldn't win. And she'd been blind to it, to his suffering. Even now, knowing the outcome, she was lost as to how she could have saved him. Perhaps there was no saving him. Whatever damage roamed through his psyche was pervasive by the time she met him. As was her damage, she thought. She'd been unable to reach him because of her own limitations, her inability to connect with him the way he obviously needed but didn't get. Living together for five years, doing their best to love each other had not been enough to save either of them.
That thought caused her to think again of the baby. She must figure a way to emerge from this rubble and make a life that could provide the life for her baby that every child deserved. She swung her legs to the floor and reached for the phone. She dialed the Planned Parenthood number. “Hello, this is Lee Tucker. I won't need to come in after all.”
That afternoon, seized with a sudden frantic energy, she decided to spend the afternoon ridding the house of junk. She carried as much as she could at one time into the front yard and threw it into a huge pile. After twenty trips, the two small bedrooms were empty except for the small pieces of furniture. She was covered in dust and dirt and the pile was almost as tall as the house. She found a rusted gas can in the shed, half full. She used a butter knife to pry the cap loose and accidentally knocked the can over, spilling gas onto the steps. She wiped the spill with a rag, and tossed the rag onto the top step of the stairs.
She doused the pile, threw a lit match into the heap, and watched it burst into flames. The fire was hot on her face and hands. She backed away just as the fire sped along an invisible trail of spilled gas until it reached the porch. The dry wood of the steps were protected by the overhang and untouched by rain caught in an instant. Before she could take a breath, the entire porch was engulfed. She dragged the water hose from the side of the house, spraying in the direction of the fire, but the stream was not enough to extinguish the gas fueled flames. Smoke billowed around her head and she gulped for air. She ran through the smoke to the side of the house, coughing until her stomach knotted.
Ellen, breathless, ran into the yard, jeans tucked into work boots. “Lee, I saw smoke. I called 911. What happened?”
Lee put her face in her hands. “I was trying to get rid of all this junk.” She stumbled to the hydrangea bushes and fell to the ground on her knees. Ellen picked up the hose. She covered the nozzle with her thumb and pointed it at the flames but the spray was no match for the hot fire. Billows of gray smoke made a swathe around the yard and porch. She heard a siren, stopping and starting like it had a short. She turned to see an ancient fire truck racing down the dirt road. The threadbare tires bounced in every pothole, looking like with each jerk they might whirl from their axels. The truck lurched to a stop twenty feet from the fire, steam puffing from the engine and two firemen sitting in the cab. The one in the passenger seat lowered to the ground, favoring his left leg.
The other fireman pulled the fire hose from the side of the truck. She rubbed her eyes. It was Tommy. Even with the uniform and hat she knew it was him. Her mind tumbled, confused, and she didn't ha
ve time to reason out how he was a fireman too, before he turned a large lever on the side of the truck and yelled to them. “Ladies, get out of the way, this'll knock you over.”
Lee was frozen but Ellen grabbed her arm, yanked her to her feet and dragged her to the side of the truck.
Water gushed out of the big hose, dousing the flames on the porch first, reducing them to smoke and scarred wood, and then soaking the bonfire.
The yard spun, black spots appeared before her eyes, and then a tunnel. Feeling as though she might faint, she lay on the ground and closed her eyes. A few moments later she opened them to see Tommy's face above her. “Let me take a look at you,” he said. “I'm an EMT. Don't worry, you're gonna be fine.”
“But you're a musician.”
“This is my day job.” He felt under her chin and his fingertips were thick and calloused. “Do you have any medical conditions?”
She hesitated for a moment before saying, meekly, “I'm ten weeks pregnant.”
He raised his eyebrows, catching his lower lip between his thumb and forefinger. “Did you breathe in a lot of smoke?”
There was a lump in her throat. “Yeah. I coughed for awhile.”
He pulled out a stethoscope from the bag next to him and listened to her breathing, his brows knitted, staring at the ground. He reached for her arm resting underneath the blanket. “You need to see our doc.” His fingers moved to her wrist and took her pulse. “You seen her yet?”
“No.”
“Why's that?”
“I've been busy.”
“At ten weeks you should see a doc, okay?”
Irritation cleared her mind somewhat and she wondered who this guy thought he was, telling her to see a doctor. What did he know about babies? “You have children?”
He smiled and took out a small light from his bag. “Look up for a minute.” He shone the light into one eye and then the other. “I do not have children, however, I'm a trained medical professional, so I know about these things. We'll take you there now, have you checked out.” He put the light back into his bag and cocked his head, examining her face in a way that made her want to look away and hide. “You don't like people telling you what to do.” He said it as a statement of fact and as if it amused him.
Irritated at his obvious enjoyment, she replied in her remotest tone, “It depends.” She stared at the blue sky poking through the branches of the cherry tree above them. The branches had dumped their blossoms weeks before, and she picked up a soggy, fallen flower from the damp ground beneath her and crushed it between the tips of her fingers.
“We'll have to take you to the doc in our truck.”
“No, I can drive myself.”
“Policy. I have to take you in.”
“What kind of policy is that exactly? Don't I have the right to refuse treatment?”
“Not on my watch.” He chuckled and put his hand out as if to help her stand. She ignored his outstretched reach and rolled on her side, preparing to get onto her feet. “I sounded kind of like a cop on television with that.” He mocked himself, making his voice deeper, “Not on my watch, little lady.”
Lee smiled in spite of her best efforts to stay distant. Tommy called out to the other fireman. “Verle, we're gonna take Lee to the doc.”
Verle rested on his shovel, panting. “Righto,” he said. “We're pretty much done here.”
Lee tried to sit but became light-headed once more and lay back on the ground. “For goodness sake, let me help you,” said Tommy. “Put your arms around my neck.” She did as he said and he scooped underneath her, holding her like they were newlyweds entering the honeymoon suite. Further adding to her mortification, he carried her that way over to the truck. This day kept getting worse and worse, she thought, as Tommy put her gently into the cab of the truck.
Ellen and Verle gathered around the cab. Verle bowed to Ellen. “Thank you madame, for your help. Tommy, this lady's a pistol. We should get her to join the department.”
Ellen sniffed but it lacked bluster. “I'm much too busy to help you boys, ‘though I'm sure you could use it.” She poked her head in the cab of the truck. “Lee, I'll follow you in my car.”
Lee nodded and rested her head on the back of the seat, staring at the ceiling of the cab. Tommy hopped up and settled behind the wheel. Verle hooked the shovel onto the side of the truck and after two attempts, swung into the cab. They pulled out of the driveway and onto the paved road that led to the highway. The truck bounced. She winced as her breasts bobbed and her tender nipples rubbed against the rayon material of the tight bra. She placed her arms over her chest but the smell of smoke on her clothes made her pregnancy nausea worse. She put her head in her hands and took deep breaths.
“You alright?” said Tommy. “Do I need to pull over?”
“I'm really nauseous. All the time, actually.” For some reason, out of nowhere, she felt as if she might cry. An ache started at the back of her throat as she tried to get control of herself. An image of the unformed person inside her, perhaps an acorn sized fist balled against an ambush of smoke and fumes, flashed across her mind. It was her fault, she thought. She shouldn't have been messing with fire and now she might have hurt the baby.
Tommy reached out as if to pat her hand, but pulled back at the last second. “Don't worry, our doc is really good.”
Verle snorted and then snored, head back, mouth ajar.
She glanced at Tommy and to her dismay a high-pitched giggle escaped from her throat. Tommy's lips twitched and he covered his mouth with his hand. “Verle could fall asleep anywhere, I swear. Once he slept through an entire outdoor concert of mine, plus fireworks after.” Out of the corner of her eye, she examined Tommy. He was tall and his energy so profuse that in spite of his slim frame he appeared to fill the entire cab. Lee felt petite and feminine sitting next to him.
His hand fidgeted with the top button of his shirt. “Would it help to chat or would you like quiet?”
“Chat.”
“Where'd you move from?”
“Seattle.” She looked out the front window and hoped he wouldn't ask any specific questions. He tapped the steering wheel with his long fingers like he was playing a tune. “I'm from Enumclaw.” His voice was low pitched and melodic. Lee felt her shoulders relax, her eyes heavy with strain, smoke and lack of sleep. She shocked herself by wondering what it would feel like to rest her head on his shoulder.
Tommy ran his hand over the top of his wavy brown hair. “You know where that is?”
Her lips were numb. “Sure.”
“It's only a little bigger than this town.”
“They're all the same.”
“Small towns, you mean?”
“Yeah.”
“We used to go to Seattle sometimes when I was a kid.” He glanced at her and then back at the road. “You know what our favorite thing was?”
“No.”
“Going to Dick's.”
“Right, Dick's.”
“Best burgers in the world.” He turned into the clinic's driveway. “And fries. They have great fries.”
“I don't eat fries.”
“Really?”
“They probably aren't as good as you remember.”
“Yeah?”
“You probably wouldn't even like it now.”
“I think I would.” He smiled. “There's some things you don't forget.” He pulled into a gravel parking spot in front of the clinic. “Here we are. Now, you wait until I can help you down.”
The doctor, a handsome woman in her forties with a gray frizz of hair and unshaven legs under her hemp skirt, gave Lee a full examination, assuring her it wasn't enough smoke to hurt the baby. She pushed gently on Lee's stomach. “This your first baby?”
Lee looked out the window at the fir tree that swayed in the spring breeze, light green new growth on the end of each branch. “Yes.”
“Planned or unplanned?”
“Unplanned.”
“Do you have a partner?”
“My husband passed away two months ago.” Lee pulled down her gown. “Unexpectedly.” She didn't know why she was compelled to add the unexpected part. After all, who would have a baby if they knew their spouse was dying.
“I'm sorry. Do you have a good support system, family or anything to help you through this?”
“Sure.” She scratched her arm, noticing drops of rain caught in a spider's web outside the window.
The doctor's freckled hand patted her arm. “Shall we see if we can find anything on the ultrasound?”
“What?”
“We should be able to see a baby by now.” She dragged a machine on a cart into the room and asked Lee to scoot down and put her feet into the stir-ups. She squirted goop on a wand that looked like something out of a science fiction movie and felt cool but not uncomfortable when she slid it into Lee to look at her uterus. There was a black and green blur on the screen and then something that looked like a small mass and a pulsating dot. “There it is!” The doctor smiled. “The beginning of a life, a heart beating strong.” She punched some numbers into the machine. “I'm measuring to see if we can tell how far along you are.” She pushed another couple of buttons and a small piece of paper printed out of the machine. The doctor gave it to Lee, pointing at the blur that looked like a peanut. “There's your baby, measuring about ten weeks.”
The doctor pulled out the wand while Lee gawked at the printout. Could that mass be a real baby?
“We need to schedule regular monthly visits until your due date.”
Lee sat up and pulled down the robe to cover her exposed midriff. “I probably won't be here that long. I'm here working on my mother's house. I'm leaving before the baby comes.”
“Regardless, you need to come in once a month.”
“How much will those visits cost?”
The doctor ruffled through her file. “You don't have insurance?” There was a note of disapproval in her eyes.
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