Everything Unexpected

by Caroline Nolan

  Leah wasn’t kidding when she said her body was going through some sexual overactive phase. In the last few weeks, I’ve had more sex than I’ve ever had. She’s insatiable. The further along she gets in her pregnancy, the more her libido grows. Not that I’m complaining. Sex with Leah is…more than I could have expected. She’s always into it, always eager, and if I’m being honest, she comes pretty easily. Not that I wouldn’t work at it if she didn’t, but it’s nice having that little help.

  The only downside to this new dynamic we have going on is it’s confusing the hell out of me. I knew having sex with her would be anything but clean and easy, especially now, but something came over me that night. One minute we’re sitting on her couch, the next thing I know she’s telling me how her body is in heat. I stood no chance when the memories of touching that body, tasting it, seeing it beneath me started flooding my mind. All I could think was how much I wanted to live that all over again.

  But I didn’t see this happening.

  This ongoing, sexual relationship we’ve initiated that doesn’t seem to have an ending in sight. Now I’m craving her. I’m wanting her. I’m needing her. My one-time offer of helping her has turned into something much different. Something that’s playing with my brain and fooling around with my emotions. We don’t kiss but we’ll do everything else imaginable. It’s a little weird, my lips on so much of her body but not her mouth. I’m not even sure what would happen if I did try and kiss her. Would she let me? Would she even want me to? I can’t even process how strange it is to be inside of her but too nervous to kiss her. Leah’s my best friend, but what’s been going on between us lately—what I’m feeling towards her—isn’t all that friendly.

  What’s even more confusing is how casual Leah seems about it, like this isn’t complicating or changing anything between us. But I can’t be the only one feeling this way, can I? She can’t be this unaffected by what we’ve been doing almost nightly, can she? And I do mean almost nightly.

  The other week, we were out for pizza when I felt her hand grip my thigh under the table, a clear indicator of what she was wanting. I made an excuse for us to leave, not even remembering what it was. Ten minutes later, I was inside her, her body pressed into her kitchen counter, neither of us even able to wait to get to the bedroom.

  She even showed up at my place in the middle of the night. Told me she couldn’t sleep and needed a release. I followed her back to my room quietly so that Bryan wouldn’t hear and took her from behind for the first time.

  And now, watching her straighten her blouse and reapply her lipstick, I think back to twenty minutes ago, pulled over to the side of a quiet road, the smell of orange groves all around us. As soon as I turned off the car, she unbuckled her seat belt, raised her skirt and climbed on top of me.

  I didn’t hear her complain about the lack of roof then.

  The brief stop did, however, make us late. My parents were expecting us a half hour ago. Today is the day we are going to tell them they’re going to be grandparents—officially. They’ll be supportive, that much I know, because that’s just who my parents are. Even if they don’t always agree with me, they support me. But I have no idea what kind of questions my mother will ask. Questions I most likely don’t have answers to just yet. Answers to questions I’ve only just recently started asking myself.

  We still have no idea how to explain how this happened to my mother. Comb and I aren’t a couple, but we aren’t just friends anymore either. I don’t know what to call us anymore. We crossed a line months ago and have continued to cross it since. But what that line says about us, about what we are now, where we are now, I have no clue. And if Leah has an idea, she’s not sharing.

  I continue to drive down the open road, small rocks and dust trailing behind us. I glance to the back seat of my car, to the thin layer of grime gathering over the leather. A broken seat belt jumping at every small pot hole I run over. Leah’s right. This car isn’t very baby proof.

  “Your car is safe,” I say, reminding her of her small, four door Mini Cooper.

  Leah looks at me as though I’ve missed the point. “Sure. But what about when the baby’s with you? It can’t ride in the back of this safari wagon.”

  “Hey—”

  “A baby needs a roof, windows, seatbelts that work—”

  “Okay. I get it. Relax,” I say laughing. But her expression doesn’t show one ounce of amusement. In fact, she looks slightly annoyed. As much as this girl gets hornier every week that passes, she also becomes more irritable. Sometimes her mood swings give me whiplash. “Relax,” I try again. “We still have time to figure this stuff out.”

  She presses her lips together for a second. “This stuff,” she repeats slowly before looking out her side of the car.

  Great, now what did I say?

  “OH MY.”

  My mother’s surprised expression as soon as we walk into the house lets us know coming up with a way of breaking the news won’t be needed. Her eyes are already glued to Leah’s stomach. Most days, Leah hides her very small, growing belly, but today her outfit does nothing to camouflage it. The blouse she has on just barely buttons over her chest and her jersey skirt sticks to her form. When I picked her up at her apartment, I carefully mentioned those exact things.

  “Are we hiding it from your parents? Isn’t this,” she pointed to her stomach, “what we’re going to tell them?” she asked pointedly. “Besides, it’s only a matter of hours before this outfit won’t fit so I’d like to wear it.”

  I foolishly and stupidly thought maybe it wouldn’t be the first thing my mother would notice. I envisioned sitting them down and breaking the news with pastel balloons floating up out of nowhere, but from the look on my mother’s face, we’re not sitting anywhere and there will be no balloons.

  “Hi, Mom,” I say walking over and kissing her on the cheek. She doesn’t even register me. Her eyes stay solely focused on Leah and her midsection. My mother disentangles herself from me and walks the few steps to where Leah stands.

  “Surprise,” Leah says, her voice shaking a bit, her smile nervous.

  My mother wraps her arms around Leah and hugs her tight. “Surprise is right. What’s happened to you?” she says, her voice giving away cheerful disbelief.

  Leah glances over my mother’s shoulder, looking at me expectantly.

  “You’re going to be a grandmother,” I say. At my words, my mother quickly releases Leah, her head whipping back to look at me.

  “Pardon me—” my mother starts, her head swinging from side to side, from Leah then back to me. “This is you?” she says, pointing to Leah’s stomach.

  “I know this is a surprise, Charlotte. It was to us too,” Leah starts. “And I’m sorry we’re only telling you now. We wanted to wait until after the first trimester. I’m sorry—”

  Leah’s nervous rambling is cut off by a piercing shriek of joy. My mother once again envelops Leah in a hug, her voice full of excitement. “Stop with the apologies! This is fantastic news. I had no idea you two had even started dating.” She looks at me poignantly.

  I open my mouth to correct her, but Leah’s glare keeps my mouth shut.

  “Able, get in here!” my mother yells. “Come see what’s happening.”

  My father’s heavy footsteps come down the hall as he emerges into the foyer.

  “Look, Able! Look!” my mother cries, pointing to Leah’s stomach once again. “We’re going to be grandparents!” My mother turns back around and hugs Leah yet again. I look over to my father, understanding coming over his face as he comes up to stand beside me.

  “It’s decided then,” he says quietly, only for me to hear.

  “It is,” I answer.

  He nods, turning his attention to the women hugging. But I see a spark of emotion in the corner of his eye, one he’s trying to keep to himself.

  Pride.

  “Able, what is the matter with you? Come over here and congratulate her for goodness sake,” my mother chastises him. The hint
of a smile turns into a huge grin as my father makes his way to Leah, wrapping her in his large arms. I nearly lose sight of her behind his big frame.

  “You look radiant,” my father tells her, kissing her cheek.

  “Doesn’t she? Just radiant!” my mother pipes in.

  I stand and watch my parents fuss over Leah and my unborn child. I see Leah wipe a happy tear from her cheek, relieved, I’m sure, at how my parents reacted. She looks happy, and a part of me beams knowing I had a part in that, that my family had a part in that. That seeing her like this, an excited mother-to-be, wouldn’t have been possible without me.

  Then a whole different kind of understanding creeps up on me. One I wasn’t expecting, but at the same time, think I’ve been waiting for. An awareness that feels more like a punch to the heart, causing it to skip a beat.

  I stare down at the floor, needing to look away from her for just a moment. Needing to process the realization that I want to be the only one to ever make her feel that way. The only man to put that smile on her face.

  While Leah’s eyes are shining with happiness, mine are shadowing in panic. If I thought what was happening between us before was confusing, it’s nothing compared to the realization that I might want it to continue…permanently.

  WE’RE SITTING AROUND my parent’s dining room table as Leah and I are bombarded with questions from my mother. Both she and my father are sitting across from us, barbequed meat and salads laid out between us. I go to grab for another piece of chicken when my mother’s next question stops my fork in midair.

  “Have you felt the baby move yet?”

  Move?

  Has she?

  I look at Leah while she shakes her head, dabbing the sides of her mouth with a napkin. “Not yet. Still too early, I think.”

  Is it too early? When is she supposed to start feeling these things? I make a mental note to catch up on reading some of those pregnancy books I bought.

  “How about names? Have you thought of any? Oh! Will you want to find out if it’s a boy or a girl?”

  Names? I haven’t thought about that either. Has she? Does she have any in mind? Boy or girl? Do I want to know? Does she?

  Leah eyes meet mine, the same questions running through her mind. How could it be that we haven’t discussed any of this? What the hell have we been doing all this time? Then a brief image of Leah’s naked chest against my lips enters my mind and I’m reminded of exactly how we’ve been spending our time.

  I clear my throat. “No names yet,” I say. “But I think I’d like to know what we are having.”

  A rare, shy smile appears on Leah’s lips at my answer. “Me too,” she says.

  “So exciting,” my mother adds for the hundredth time.

  “We can find out next week at my sonogram appointment,” Leah points out.

  I smile for a fraction of a second before her words register.

  Wait. Next week?

  “When next week?” I question.

  “Thursday. Like I told you,” she answers, smiling.

  No, she most definitely did not tell me that. I, on the other hand, am certain I told her about my trip to Los Angeles next week.

  “I’m leaving on Tuesday for LA, remember? I won’t be back until Sunday.”

  Leah stares at me blankly. Has she forgotten this already? I told her last week as soon as I booked the shoot. I know I told her because I wanted her to know well in advance of my leaving.

  “No you didn’t,” she states, gently putting her utensils down on her plate.

  “I did,” I argue. “Right after I booked the shoot. I called and told you.”

  I wait for recollection to sweep over her, but it doesn’t. Instead, she leans back against her chair and folds her arms. “I think I would remember you telling me something like that,” she counters.

  “Apparently not.”

  We stare at each other in silence for a minute before my father’s deep voice interrupts our little game of Who Will Blink First. “The life of a traveling photographer,” he says before taking a sip from his glass of wine.

  Three sets of eyes turn on him, my mother’s shooting daggers.

  “What?” He shrugs, looking at her. “They should get used to that.”

  Silence falls upon the table and I look back at Leah, who clearly seems embarrassed and uncomfortable with our somewhat public spat. I nudge her leg under the table with my knee.

  “Hey,” I say softly. “You can call and tell me after you find out.”

  Any hope of that bringing a small smile to her face is gone when she only nods, preoccupying herself with folding her napkin in her lap over and over.

  Sensing her raw mood, my mother thankfully comes to the rescue.

  “You know what? We need to get you a congratulations gift!” She stands, stepping away from the table. “Why don’t the boys clean up while we choose a few things off the Pottery Barn Kids website?”

  Leah gives an awkward, tight smile before standing and leaving the room with my mom. She doesn’t even turn back to spare me a glance. Once the sound of their footsteps are far enough away, I lean back in my chair, dropping my napkin over my plate.

  “Thanks for that, Dad,” I say, sarcasm laced through my words.

  “You think that was bad? Just wait. You have no idea what’s coming your way.” My father stands, waving his hand over the table. “Clean all of this up,” he says, before walking out of the room.

  Left alone at the table, I rub my hand over my head, a small headache having developed. I resign myself to the fact that even if Leah does remember me telling her about LA, she’ll never admit it now. I stand, piling up dishes in my hands and head into the kitchen where my father is clearing space near the sink.

  “I did tell her,” I say, sounding like a sulking child.

  My father laughs. “Boy, in case you’ve forgotten, that girl is pregnant. Which means nothing you say or do is going to be right unless she says so. She believes you didn’t tell her, you didn’t. She believes you forgot what she told you, you did.”

  I shake my head. “That hardly seems fair.”

  He rests one hand on his hip, looking at me like I’m an idiot. “You just get hit in the head? Fair walked out the door the minute that girl’s hormones took off. You best remember that! It will make these next few months a hell of a lot easier. Fair,” he scoffs. “Of course it isn’t fair. But That’s. How. It. Is.” He enunciates each word slowly, carefully, so I understand his meaning.

  For the next few months, I’m at Leah’s mercy.

  “Now, on to something we can fix,” he says opening the dishwasher. “You can start work after this last trip of yours. We’ll start you off easy, some smaller accounts, but if all goes well, it won’t be long before—”

  I hold up my hands, stopping him. “Whoa, whoa. What are you talking about?”

  He casually continues to fill the dishwasher one plate at a time. “Starting at the firm,” he says. I must have missed something because he sees the confusion written all over my face.

  “You can’t think you’ll still be able to go on living this photographer lifestyle, do you? You’ll need a stable job closer to home. Not one that has you traveling all over the world all the time. I’ll get you started in the office—”

  “I can’t believe you,” I interrupt him, anger boiling under my skin. “After all this time, you still don’t believe I have a career. You think I won’t be able to provide for them.”

  My father turns and takes one very dominant step towards me, drying his hands with a dish towel before pointing a finger at me. “You’ve got some serious growing up to do.”

  I lean my hands against the counter, gripping its edges tightly. I feel my father’s presence as he leans in, his familiar scent of old wood and spice getting stronger with every inch he comes closer.

  “The minute you and Leah decided to keep this baby, you decided to put that child before anyone or anything else. Before your own wants, your own needs,” he says sharply.
“I’m going to let you in on a little secret you seem not to have figured out yet.” He takes a step back, giving me space to turn and face him. “Soon enough, before you even realize it’s happened, leaving your child behind for any amount of time will be the hardest thing you’ll ever do. It will crush you. And that girl,” he says pointing upstairs where Leah and my mother are online shopping. “I doubt she’s on board with being a single parent, left alone for days at a time while you travel the world.”

  He covers his hands over the sides of my face, just like he used to when I was a boy and was about to tell me something important. His voice softens a bit. “Being a father will give you a sense of pride you never knew existed. A love so strong, you’d gladly lay down your life if it meant keeping your child safe and happy. You’d sacrifice anything without even blinking.”

  He releases my face and I swallow the giant lump that’s formed in my throat. I watch my father go back to the sink and begin to rinse more dishes. “This offer has nothing to do with my thoughts on your career.” He stills, looking down into the sink. “You’ve already proven yourself there.”

  Not once has my father ever said anything out loud about being proud of what I’ve accomplished as a photographer. But that doesn’t mean I don’t see it. It’s there, in the framed photos I took hanging in his office. But hearing the words…

  “I’ll figure it out, Dad. I’ll be able to do this my way,” I say, trying to reassure him and maybe even myself that I’ll be able to handle my job and the lifestyle that comes along with it as well as my responsibilities to both Leah and my child. Traveling will just become a part of our lives and we’ll figure out the best way to work around it.

  He looks over at me with a small, pitying smile. “Shane, it’s not that I don’t think you can do it. It’s that I know you won’t want to.”