by Eva Luxe
“Because Doris is too cheap to buy an air conditioner?”
Carla rolls her eyes in agreement and sets her bag down. She pours herself a glass of water and takes a sip, but I can see in her eyes there’s something she wants to say.
“What?” I ask her.
“Well,” she says cautiously. “I’ve got something to tell you, but I don’t want to upset you.”
“What is it?”
“If I tell you, you have to promise not to freak out,” she tells me, which just angers me more.
“Carla!” I snap. “Tell me or I’m going to hit you in the head with a brick!”
“Geez,” she gasps. “What’s wrong with you tonight? Is it Shark Week or something?”
I sigh. Of course any time a girl is in a bad mood it has to be her period, right? You expect that comment from guys, but Carla loves it just as much.
“No, it’s not my period,” I tell her, feeling more and more annoyed. “I won’t have my period until—“
I stop. The words catch in my mouth and a feeling hits my stomach like a punch to the gut.
When was my last period?
I remember finishing my period a week before I saw Chris. Or was it two weeks? But when was the last one after that?
The realization hits me like a freight train.
“Oh, God,” I say with a gasp. I look at Carla with horror that translates immediately to her face.
“Oh, God, what?” She replies.
“Oh, no,” I mutter. “Oh, no!”
I can’t even say it, but I know the truth.
I’m pregnant.
“You’ve got to be kidding me,” Carla says, knowing exactly what the issue is.
“Fuck! I was supposed to get the morning-after pill,” I say with despair. “But my mom was in the hospital, and I had to go get her and take her home, and I spent the night and then…”
And then I got caught up with life. And I forgot.
“Wow, Janelle,” Carla says. “You are pregnant. With Chris Mitchell’s kid!”
Her voice sounds almost…excited. Like this is a good thing!
“And you’re happy about that?” I ask her as my legs give out from under me. I sit quickly on a stool and grab Carla’s water and gulp it down in one go. The implications of this are too much to handle right now and I just need a minute.
“Order up!” Jim shouts from behind the grill. “One of you girls get this out there now!”
“I got it,” Carla whispers to me. “Which table?”
“Table four!” He replies.
Carla snags the plates and heads out into the front of the diner. I’m relieved for a second. I just need to think, and I can’t do that surrounded by people. But without her here, I feel suddenly alone. I know she’s ten feet away, but this is a major life event and I don’t know how to handle it.
But before I can get lost in my own thoughts, she’s back.
“Okay,” Carla says with a smile. “We’re out of here. I’m calling Miranda and having her come in. She owes me big. She should be here soon.”
I sort of space out as Carla makes the call. I can hear her shouting at Miranda to get her ass here now, but the rest of it sounds like waves of an ocean far away.
What the Hell am I supposed to do now?
My heart feels ready to lurch out of my throat and my lungs can’t keep up with how much air I need right now. This is exactly the kind of thing you don’t want to do, and especially with a one-night stand.
What was I thinking!?
As much as I hate to admit it to myself, especially right now, it was like Chris cast a spell over me. At first I thought he was just an arrogant asshole, and then he did something to me and I fell for him, head over heels, completely. And I needed him to cum in me. I needed it to feel like one with him.
It wasn’t just a sexual thing, although that was amazing. There was something else there too, and feeling him fill me up sealed the deal.
But I’ve spent the last two months wondering. Was there really something there? Or was it just my hormones and my girl stupidity that lead me to believe his lies? I’m sure he was with another girl the next night. He probably has apartments all over town and just rotates between them, girl after girl after girl.
Just the thought of him with someone else makes me want to throw up.
“Janelle. Janelle!” Carla’s voice snaps me out of my thoughts.
“Yeah!?”
“Come on,” she says. “Get your shit and go wait for me in the car. I’ll cover your tables until Miranda gets here.”
“Okay,” I mutter as I grab my bag. I untie my apron and drop it somewhere, push open the back door and step outside into the cool evening air. It’s hard to believe it’s not a hundred degrees outside after being in the sweltering heat of the diner.
My thoughts racing and my body about ready to give out on me, I find Carla’s SUV and lean against it. I close my eyes and focus.
Calm down, Janelle. Calm down!
But it’s not helping. The breeze is nice and the fact that I’m not about to die from inhaling bacon steam and burger smoke is great, but that doesn’t change the fact that my life is now never going to be the same.
I lean against Carla’s car for what seems like only a few minutes but must have been more because soon I hear a car engine and see the lights against my eyelids. I open them and see Miranda pull in and park.
She gets out and heads for the diner. Clearly she’s not happy. As she passes, she sees me and shoots me a glance that says, “Fuck you, bitch,” but I’m in no mood to get into it with her, so I look away.
Five seconds after she’s inside Carla comes bursting out and races over to me.
“Let’s get out of here, girl,” she says. We pile into her car and pull out of the parking lot. “My place. Mimosas. Girls’ night.”
“Mimosas?” I reply, my voice filled with tone.
“What?” She asks, giving me a questioning look.
I just look back at her, then give a quick glance toward my stomach.
“Oh, fuck!” She says, realizing her mistake. “Yeah, no alcohol for you. Okay, Mimosa for me and cranberry juice for you.”
Thankfully the ride to Carla’s apartment is only a few blocks. She parks out front and I get out and head straight inside. Her place is amazingly comfortable. Carla has a knack for interior design and the whole place has this modern feel but is somehow still very homey and whenever I come over I never want to leave.
I collapse on the couch and close my eyes and let out a groan like some beast from a fantasy novel.
“What is wrong with me!?”
“More like what is right with you, girl!” Carla replies from the kitchen.
“What!?” I slap my hand over my forehead and eyes and put another hand on my chest, feeling my heart ready to explode.
“Well, think about it,” Carla says, coming back into the living room. “This is Chris Mitchell’s baby.”
Well, duh!
“Yes, I know who I fucked, Carla,” I snip.
“Yeah, but clearly you don’t know what that means.”
“Okay, enlighten me.”
Carla grabs a chair and pulls it closer to the couch and takes a seat. She doesn’t say anything, so after a moment I move my hand and open my eyes and look at her. She looks like she’s ready to jump out of her skin.
“What!? Would you just spit it out!?”
“You are going to be rich!”
I couldn’t sigh any harder if I tried.
“Come on, Carla!” I say. “Are you serious right now?!”
“Think about it!” She says, the tone of her voice getting even more excited. “The guy knocked you up. You’re not married. He doesn’t know! You can get so much money off him it won’t even be funny! The football league does not like their players doing shit like this. You can get like…payoff money!”
“Stop!” I say, sitting up on the couch. “Just stop! I’m not going to extort Chris Mitchell for money becau
se I was dumb enough to let him get me pregnant!”
She opens her mouth to speak, but I quickly raise my hand to let her know to be quiet. Wisely, she does. We sit in silence, listening to the sound of cars passing and the yapping of the neighbor’s dog. Finally, after a long time, Carla speaks.
“So…are you going to keep it?”
I don’t answer. Not because I don’t want to, but because I don’t know. I’ve always been all about letting women make up their own mind with things like this, but now that I’m the one in this situation…it’s harder than I’d ever imagined.
A calm comes over me. For the first time since my realization I can feel my heart slow and I can actually get a breath. This is something I actually have control over. The only problem is I don’t know what to do.
“I don’t know, Carla,” I say softly. “I don’t know.”
Chapter 9
Chris
I feel like a shell of the man I once was as I stare at the grave of my father, Jonathan Mitchell.
I won’t fucking cry!
Crying is for boys, not men. My fists ball at my sides as the cold wind whips up around my face and stings my eyes. Oak, Alaska. That’s where my father wanted to be buried, and that’s where I buried him.
He left and moved here after my first year in the league. I guess he figured after I made it, his job was done. He was always a hard ass and the reason for my success. Whenever I didn’t want to get off my ass, it was pops who made me. Whenever I didn’t want to eat that steak or drink that protein shake, it was him that reminded me of where I was headed and what it would take to get there.
He wasn’t a man who expressed his feelings, and he wasn’t above chewing me out when I fucked up. But I always knew he loved me. He and my mom split just before I finished high school. He moved out, sold just about everything he owned, bought a small bush plane and started taking lessons.
He loved flying and, after I got into the league, moved up here to be a pilot. Cargo, transportation – whatever you need he could handle. I never understood it. It’s a life I would never choose, but it’s what he wanted. It took me a long time to get over being angry with him.
Then came the heart issues. I got my first phone call a year after he’d moved saying he’d had a heart attack but was stable. He wouldn’t tell me where he was so I couldn’t come see him.
“I’ll be fine, kiddo!” I remember his words through the phone like it was yesterday. His voice was raspy, weak, but his pride was still there. “You just keep kickin’ ass and takin’ names like you’ve been doing! I’ll come see ya soon!”
That was the last time I heard from him…
Then, two months ago, I got the call.
“Mr. Mitchell,” the woman’s voice on the other end of the phone had said. Mr. Mitchell? That’s my father – not me. “We have some bad news. I regret to inform you that your father passed away last night. It was his heart.”
I wasn’t shocked. Somehow I knew this was coming. My dad had left and I never fully expected to see him again – but I hoped. And now that hope was gone.
I couldn’t think. I couldn’t do anything but get to the airport and get on a plane. Janelle was asleep beside me and I knew that if I woke her, if I spoke the words, “I have to go. My father passed away,” that I would lose it. And I couldn’t do that. I had to maintain my strength for the flight up there, for all the arrangements that would need to be made.
So I left her.
I left the money I’d promised her on the bedside table. It felt wrong not to. I’d taken her off work that night and none of the boys had left a tip. I’m sure she doesn’t make much working there and I didn’t want her to get nothing out of the night for coming to see me.
I’ll call her from Alaska, I remember thinking. Of course when I got there, I realized I didn’t have her phone number. I didn’t know her full name or how to contact her. I tried calling the diner, but whoever picked up was not interested in giving me her information. I’d imagine they’re used to guys calling in and asking about the girls who work there. I didn’t know anything. I wanted to turn around and get on a plane back to Ohio, but I couldn’t. My father was dead.
My father is dead…
And now I’ve been here for the last two months getting his affairs in order. The wake, the funeral, all with people I’d never met before. My mom couldn’t come. It was just too much for her. It took me a while to deal with it too. I had my own…mourning period. Mom stayed at home and mourned her own way. I’ll have to see her when I get back to Ohio.
From what I can tell, dad was well-loved up here by everyone. Salt of the Earth. There’s no better way to describe the folks that came out to pay their respects.
But of course dad was a miserable businessman and left me a whole shitload of paperwork, debts and receipts to deal with.
I wish Janelle was here…
I can’t believe I’m thinking that, but there’s nothing like the love of a good woman in hard times, and I just somehow know that she would know exactly what to say – exactly what to do at a time like this.
But standing here, staring at my father’s headstone in the tiny cemetery on the edge of town, I’m at a loss for words. Chris Mitchell, the loudmouthed, arrogant, cocky football player with always a quip or a line, is at a loss for words.
There’s no reason I should think this, but I can’t helping feeling like Janelle would know what to say here. I couldn’t tell you why if you asked me – I just do. Maybe I’m just emotional right now and unusually vulnerable, but that’s how I feel.
I know coach isn’t happy with me for missing the last two months, but he’s putting on a good face while I deal with all this. Part of me has started to wonder if football is really where I want to be. Dad left as soon as I joined the league, and even though I know it’s all bullshit, part of me feels like football is the reason he left.
There’s no way I’ll be able to maintain my focus for a game. Between this and thinking about Janelle, my mind will be everywhere but where it needs to be.
I’ll have to look her up when I get home. Go by the diner and see her. Apologize. Find some way to make it up to her. She’s got to be mad, but I’m sure she’ll forgive me when I tell her what happened.
There’ll be so much to do when I get back. I have to see mom, see how she’s holding up, go over the estate with her and stick around to spend some time with her. Make things right.
I never expected to run into a woman that night that would get such a hold of me. I mean, here I am, standing at my father’s grave and she’s all I can think about. A guy like me? That shouldn’t be happening.
I’m a free spirit. A wild man. A roamer. And yet here I am, with Janelle racing through my mind.
I’ll finish up here and head home.
I’ll see my mother.
I’ll find Janelle and tell her I’m sorry. And we’ll be together.
Chapter 10
Janelle
Two Years later…
“This coffee tastes like piss!” A shrill voice screeches behind me.
“Damn right, baby,” the harpy’s husband replies. It’s a smoker’s voice, and he also sounds like he has half a pint of phlegm stuck in his throat. It makes me want to vomit. “Can we get another cup, darlin’?”
He’s talking to me, of course. I thought that when I left my old job and came here, to Maggie’s Diner, things would be different. It’s across town and a longer drive, but the hours are better, which means I get to spend more time at home with Max.
He’s two now and looks just like his father…the bastard.
Two years. Two years and not a single word from him. I saw him on TV, being a superstar, and I know he came back to town. But did he ever come and find me? Nope. Not once.
I kept the baby. I don’t know if it was the right or wrong decision, but it’s the only one I could make so I made it. I named him Max – not after anybody, just a name I like. And while Chris Mitchell might be the worst thing to ever happ
en to me in my life, Max is undoubtedly the best.
Watching him grow was the happiest I’ve ever felt. Watching him open his eyes for the first time, hearing his first cries, his first laughs, watching him sleep, speak, crawl and finally walk…I built a new life with him. A life I love.
I quit my old job and came to Maggie’s. It’s busier and they give me better hours, which means more money and more flexibility. I get to spend time with Max during the day, put him to bed at my mother’s in the evening while I work, and be there for him when he wakes up in the morning.
And then of course Max’s nap has become Max and Mommy’s nap.
“Coming right up,” I growl over my shoulder to the customers in the booth by the door. Maggie’s isn’t much different inside. One long room, a ‘50s-style diner with red stools at a chrome counter and red booths lining the wall that looks out onto the road. There’s an old-fashioned miniature jukebox at each table the kids always play with during the day, but here in the evening we mostly get truckers and their “dates.”
Strippers and hookers basically. I’m not sure which the girl is tonight that just yelped at me with a voice that could kill, and just might do me in if I don’t get a break tonight.
I bump the kitchen door open with my butt and step over to the grill. Brand shouts at me through the steam.
“Order up. Table six.”
It’s the dreadful table’s order and my brain instantly wonders, “What would happen if I dumped rat poison all over this!?”
You know it’s been a long night when homicidal thoughts start finding their way into your mind.
“Got it,” I say, trying to sound cheerful. I grab the burger and the meatloaf and balance them on one arm, and take the extra order of fries in the other hand. The smells are overwhelming tonight. It’s not as bad as when I was pregnant though. That was the worst. I swear I could smell a steak cooking two blocks away when I was in the bathroom taking a shower.
But tonight, the smell of the grill, the metallic scent of the air conditioner, the orange scent of the floor cleaner…all of it is invading my nose like an army. I do not want to be here tonight.