Everything Unexpected

by Caroline Nolan

  “Oh God… Shane…yes,” she mumbles, pulling at the sheets.

  Once she starts to come down, her legs fall open against the bed. I get up from the floor and look at her. Areas of her body are flushed a deep pink, her hair having come loose and splaying all over the bed. Her hands fall her to her breasts and she squeezes them, still writhing from her orgasm.

  “I could watch you do that for hours,” I say.

  She opens her eyes and looks at me. She doesn’t stop what she’s doing, unashamed of her own touch. I fucking love that.

  “I want you to take me. Hard,” she says. “Then you can sit and watch me do this all you want.”

  I fist my hands together tight. “Whatever you say, Comb.”

  I take one step closer to the bed, lifting her legs up and wrapping them around my hips. Before I start, I meet her wanting expression. “Remember, if you’re uncomfortable—”

  “Shut up and fuck me!” she commands.

  So I do.

  The way she asked for it.

  Hard and fast.

  I WAKE UP a few hours later, alone in bed. I look around the room, listening for sounds coming from bathroom, but all is quiet.

  “Leah?” I call out, my voice hoarse with sleep.

  I turn over on my side and see the smallest glimmer of light in the hallway. I know then exactly where she is.

  I get up, find my discarded boxers on the floor and pull them on. I walk out into the hallway and follow the sliver of light all the way to the nursery. The door is only open wide enough to shine a small amount of light into the hallway. Opening it wider, I see Leah sitting in the gliding chair, running her hand over the blue blanket lying in her lap.

  “What are you doing?” I ask, startling her. I walk over to where she’s sitting and squat down in front of her. She found some of my clothes to wear.

  “I can never sleep through the night anymore,” she says. “I didn’t mean to wake you.”

  I shrug. “It’s okay.”

  She lets her head fall back against the chair, looking around the room. “I still can’t believe you did all this,” she says.

  “Well, if you weren’t going to listen to me, I had to show you,” I say, half teasing.

  But she doesn’t smile or laugh. In fact, she looks…sad.

  “Hey, hey… What—”

  “I’m so sorry, Shane. I hated these last few weeks too. I hated the way we fought, the way I pushed. It all just…fucking sucked,” she says, her shoulders falling.

  “It did. But we’re moving past all that now,” I say, rubbing her legs, consoling her.

  “I know.” She nods. “But I still need to say it. I’m sorry. For all of it. I was so scared of having to do this on my own that I almost made it happen. I should have believed in us more. Believed in you more.”

  I let out a deep breath. “I didn’t make it easy for you.”

  “Still,” she says, pushing up from the back of the chair. She brings her face close to mine and rests her hands over the sides of my face. I feel her soft breaths tickle the top of my lip. “I should have trusted in us. Trusted in your feelings. Trusted that I wasn’t the only one falling in love. That you were right there with me too.”

  I swallow the lump that’s formed in my throat. “Always.”

  And I mean it. I will love this girl to the end of my days and beyond then too. It may have taken us six years, but I will spend the rest of my life making sure we stay here. That she understands she is my only one. “You’re my lobster,” I say, smiling.

  She barks out a laugh and it fills me with so many feelings I can’t discern them all.

  “I love you,” she says, kissing me.

  I wrap my arms around her and hold her to me, never wanting there to be space between us again. I pull my head back, cocking it towards the door. “Ready to go back to bed?”

  “You can,” she starts. “I’m going to stay here for a few more minutes.”

  I nod, standing. But instead of leaving, I pull her up off the chair and switch places with her, pulling her down onto my lap.

  “I’m too heavy,” she argues but simultaneously burrows herself deeper into my body.

  “I’ll survive,” I say.

  And I will. We will. As long as we stay together, we will survive everything unexpected that comes our way. I believe that more than anything.

  “IF THIS BABY doesn’t come out soon, I’m going to lose my fucking mind,” I say loudly, using the armrest of our new couch to help me up.

  I hear laughter come from the kitchen, where Shane is currently making us dinner. Simple pasta with tomato sauce is on the menu. Only I’ve asked him make me some toast with peanut butter to go with it. He didn’t even blink at the request—used to them by now. He comes out of the kitchen with two plates in hand and sets them on our new dining table.

  I officially moved in three weeks ago. The morning after the wedding, once Shane and I finally got our shit together, he insisted on going over to my place to start packing. I told him maybe we should take it slow. Ease into the transition. Start with staying over a couple of nights a week, bring things over gradually, but he flat out refused.

  “No,” he said. “When I asked you to move in, I meant now. Not next week or next month, but now. Soon it won’t be just the two of us anymore. And I’m excited about that, but I do want you all to myself for a bit first. So put on your shoes and let’s go.”

  How could I argue with that?

  We drove to my apartment, started packing up as many of my clothes as we could along with some essentials to get me through the upcoming days before the move was final. We also packed up bags full of baby stuff I had accumulated. Clothes, diapers, blankets, soaps, detergents, toys, bottles. I think we put more effort in making sure we had everything the baby would need more than what I would. It wasn’t until we made it back to my new home, hanging the baby’s clothes in the closet that I thought of Bryan.

  “Where’s he living now?” I asked Shane, who was busy setting up the changing table.

  A small grin appeared on his face. “I’ve got good news and bad,” he said coyly.

  “All right,” I answered, curious.

  “The good is that he found a great place on short notice,” he started.

  “That is good,” I agreed. “The bad?”

  A smile covered his face. “It’s one floor up.”

  “He moved upstairs?” I asked, looking up at the ceiling as if I would be able to see him through the layers of cement and drywall.

  “Yup. We’ve got our very own Joey now.”

  And Shane was right. We do have our very own Joey now. Finding Bryan here at all hours of the day and night is not a surprise. I’ll come home to find Bryan sitting at the counter, eating our food. Sometimes I’ve woken up and he’s already drinking a cup of coffee, reading the paper on our couch. I don’t really mind though. He’s moved his whole life to accommodate me, even if it is just one floor up.

  After eating a full bowl of pasta and pickles, I make my way back to our beautiful but way too expensive couch. Shane’s mother bought it for us as a “house-warming” present, even though Shane has lived in this apartment for years already. But hey, I wasn’t going to complain. Both she and Shane let me pick out any couch I wanted. Now we have an oversized, overstuffed light blue couch with darker blue throw pillows. And lots of them. It looks great with the new walnut colored coffee table we bought. None of this is Shane’s style but he was just so happy that we were living together, he was ready to say yes to anything I wanted. I do feel a little bad for using that to my advantage, but only a little.

  After doing the dishes and cleaning up, Shane meets me on the couch and we assume what has become our regular nightly positions. Me laying down, resting my legs on top of his thighs while he lightly massages my disgustingly swollen feet.

  “You know,” he starts, his lips cocking to one side as he applies pressure to all the right places, “I read that sex can induce labor.”

 
I open one eye, staring him down. “Did a man write that?”

  I’m a fucking whale who can’t see her own feet while standing. That one night a few weeks ago might as well have been a year ago because not one part of me wants to have sex. Not with Shane, not with anyone. If Ryan Gosling came through the front door right now, I’d even tell him to come back another time.

  Shane laughs as he continues to massage my feet. “Just a suggestion,” he says, before picking up the remote control and putting the game on. I’m too tired to even suggest watching anything else.

  I don’t remember falling asleep but I must have because the sounds of quiet cheering jostles me awake. That and some terrible indigestion. I open my eyes to find Bryan sitting on a chair beside me, beer in hand, waving at the TV.

  “Hey,” he says noticing me stirring, sitting up on the couch.

  “Where’s Shane?” I ask, groggy.

  “On the phone in the other room,” he says, turning his attention to back to the TV.

  I sit up fully, taking a deep breath. My face scrunches when I feel pressure in my abdomen. I rest my hand of over my stomach, trying to communicate with the baby to ease up. But baby doesn’t want to listen.

  When I let out a little moan, Bryan glances my way as he takes a sip from his beer. “You okay?” he asks, an eyebrow cocked.

  “Yeah.” I nod. “Food cramps. It will pass.”

  He nods but seems unsure.

  I use the armrest to get myself up but once I do, I’m overwhelmed by a new rush of pressure I feel down below.

  “Whoa,” I say, using Bryan’s shoulder for balance. This grabs his attention once more, turning his head in my direction. But his eyes don’t come up to meet mine. Instead they stay focused on what’s directly in front of him.

  “Did you just piss your pants?” he asks, a little disgusted.

  I look down but can’t see anything past my enormous bump. “What? No! I mean, I don’t think so,” I say, moving my head to different angles, trying to get a look at what Bryan is seeing.

  Then I feel it.

  Another surge of wetness leaving my body, soaking my gray leggings to my knees. And that I can see. “Oh God.”

  “What?” Bryan says, finally looking up at me. “Oh God what?”

  The words come out slowly, as if I myself don’t really believe what’s happening. “I. Think. My. Water—” but I don’t have a chance to finish my sentence because Bryan’s loud scream over takes everything.

  “Shaaannne!”

  LABOR IS LIKE everything they tell you and everything no one told you. For almost a year, I grew this little being inside of me. Months spent preparing to give birth. My body acclimating, adapting, progressing. For months I lived through it. The ups, the downs. My due date wasn’t for another week but I was ready for this baby to come out. I was sick of being pregnant. I was tired of waiting. I was over it.

  Until my water broke.

  The time had finally come that I wasn’t going to be pregnant anymore. I was getting my wish. And I wanted to take it all back.

  Suddenly I wasn’t ready to not be pregnant anymore. I couldn’t let this go yet. I needed more time. More time to finish reading those books. More time to memorize feeding schedules. More time to prepare to not be pregnant anymore. I was strangely…heartbroken about it. Not to mention the fucking pain I was about to endure. Who the hell gets excited about that?

  But Shane took charge. This time, he was going to take control. He gently and calmly repeated everything I’m sure the pamphlets about giving birth told him to say. He told me I was the strongest woman he’s ever met. That we were both ready for this and he would be with me every step of the way.

  I looked him directly in the eye after he said all this, and as calmly as I could, I told him to go fuck himself because he had no idea what I was about to go through.

  And I was right. He didn’t. But neither did I.

  Through all the yelling, the threats, begging for drugs, the countless hours of pure torture, the pushing, the sweat, the work, we did make it through. Like a power couple.

  At least that’s what Shane says now that it’s over.

  But I know better. I made it through. I’m the one who pushed that baby out for hours. Power couple? No fucking way. I’m the fucking superhero.

  But when I see him holding our baby, wrapped tightly in a pink blanket, I keep those thoughts to myself. Because without him, I would not be here right now staring at my daughter. Our daughter. And because of that, I choose to give him a bit of slack.

  “She’s not a boy,” I say, fighting to keep my eyes open.

  “No,” he says, refusing to take his eyes off her. “She’s definitely not. I double-checked myself.”

  “Are you disappointed?” I ask, curious. Anxious.

  He momentarily moves his eyes away from her and glances at me before he looks back down at our daughter. “I wouldn’t trade her for anything.”

  Without Shane, I’d also miss seeing him completely fall in love with this little six pound, five ounce new person. A little girl who has completely taken over his heart—pushing me right out of it.

  It only makes me smile.

  “She needs a name,” I say, trying my best to sit up straighter, but my legs still feel a little numb.

  “Thoughts?” he asks, looking down at me.

  “You first.”

  He looks down at her and gives it some thought. “Amelia.”

  “Sounds too much like Natalia,” I tell him, clearly not tired enough to keep the edge out of my voice.

  He begins to roll his eyes, but thinks better of it.

  “Hilary.”

  “As in Clinton?”

  “Okay, smartass,” he says, laughing. “Let’s hear yours.”

  “Khloe.”

  “As in Kardashian?” he mimics my earlier tone.

  “Fine…how about Alexis.”

  He shakes his head, running his finger over her tiny wrinkled face. “They’ll call her Sexy Lexy.”

  My head falls back against my pillow, trying to think of a name we can both agree on. Then it comes to me. “How about Charlize. After your mom.”

  He looks at me, surprised at my suggestion. “Really?” he asks.

  “Yeah.” I nod. “Your mother has been so amazing to me this whole time. I think it’s a great way to say thank you. And I do like the name.”

  Shane smiles. “I like it too,” he says, looking down at our newly named daughter. “Hello, Charlize,” he speaks to her softly. And with that, she wakes up with the cutest fucking yawn I’ve ever seen which then turns into the highest pitched cry I’ve ever heard.

  “Hungry, I think,” he says, handing her off to me so that I can feed her. A nurse came in earlier to show me how best to get her to feed. Luckily, this time she latches on much easier than the first time.

  I see Shane reach for some paperwork on the table and begin to fill it out. “First name…Charlize. Last name…” He looks at me. “Hyphenated?”

  I shake my head. “Carlisle is fine.”

  “You don’t want Kessel in there?” he asks, surprised.

  “Why? To confuse her and everyone else? I don’t need my last name on a piece of paper to prove she’s half mine. I just spent hours pushing her out of me. I know my worth. So will she one day,” I tell him.

  Shane laughs. “I love you.”

  “Good thing. Because you’re officially stuck with me for at least the next eighteen years,” I tell him, looking down at Charlize.

  He’s watching me feed our daughter and I know without having to look there is absolute adoration for us in his eyes. “I’ll take you for longer than that,” he says.

  I look up, biting my lip.

  So will I. I know without a doubt I’ll take him for all the years I have left.

  After Charlize is fed and has fallen back asleep, Shane reminds me of one final thing we need to do before we let the cavalry that’s been sitting in the waiting room come in. He pulls out a camera from
the overnight bag we packed. “Family picture for the wall,” he says.

  I groan, arguing that I look awful and am too tired, too much of a mess, but he silences me with a kiss. “You look more beautiful to me now than you ever have,” he says pulling away.

  Fuck him for always having the right words.

  He gives me a minute to put my hair up in a loose messy braid and apply a little lip gloss. If this picture is going to be up on the wall for everyone to see, the least he can do is give me five minutes to freshen up a little.

  He sets the camera on a tray near the end of the bed and sets the timer. He quickly makes his way back to both of us and sits on the bed with me, one arm wrapped around my shoulders, the other hand caressing the top of Charlize’s head. The timer rings and a flash goes off, but we aren’t paying it any attention. Not when we have something so beautiful between us to concentrate on instead.

  Two years later

  ALL IS QUIET in the apartment. Too quiet. It’s not something I’m used to these days. Years ago, silence would have been one of my favorite sounds. I could work away at my computer on photo edits for hours without any distractions. I would accomplish so much in those hours of peace, getting lost in my work. I thrived in those hours.

  Now, when I sit in front of my computer screen and there’s no noise, it’s unsettling. I find it hard to concentrate. I don’t like it. Peace and quiet are not my normal anymore.

  Normal to me is the squeals of young laughter. Of jumbled words that don’t make a complete sentence but I can understand exactly what’s being said. Like a secret language only Leah and I understand. Screams and shrieks echoing in every room no matter where the source. Pots and pans banged together, toys being thrown, educational cartoons on the television. That’s my normal.