The Lover

by Forrester, Nia

  “The way he manipulated you, the way he … groomed you. I didn’t see it soon enough. And then that night …”

  Feeling her face flush, Ryann stood abruptly. “I’m not talking about this anymore. The fact remains, you were never there for me. Rick and I had to look out for each other, look after each other.”

  Her mother’s eyebrows rose slightly. “I was not perfect. That much is true. But your memory of that time, Ryann? That isn’t perfect either. You need to do some soul-searching. Some praying.”

  Making a scoffing noise, Ryann reached for her pocketbook and headed for the front door. Her mother made no motion to stop her.

  “And better now,” she added, just as Ryann was at the threshold. “Better now, than when you’re responsible for another person.”

  ~24~

  “Ready to see your baby?”

  Unable to speak, Spencer nodded dumbly at Dr. Billingsley. Ryann, too, seemed to have lost the power of speech. The rest of the OB appointment had been uneventful, except for Ryann’s doctor—a youngish Black woman who Spencer thought looked like she was just a month out of medical school—remarking on Ryann’s measurements being a little larger than she expected.

  “But sometimes these dates are just estimates,” she continued quickly, seeing the alarm on their faces. “We’ll know more in a few minutes when we do the scan.”

  “What does that mean?” Spencer asked. “That the dates are just estimates?”

  Standing next to the examining table while the doctor completed her pelvic exam, holding Ryann’s hand, he winced when he glimpsed the metal instruments nearby. Every single one looked like a formidable piece of equipment, and he cringed to think of any of that going up inside her. Ryann’s legs were spread, her feet in stirrups. Spencer focused on the pretty peach color of her toenails, trying to distract himself from the unpleasant sight of someone rifling around inside his woman.

  The pretty peach toenails didn’t help much, because they just made Ryann seem more feminine, more fragile. Spencer bit the inside of his cheek when, with each movement of the doctor’s hand, Ryann’s grip tightened. He had just about begun to regret insisting that he come to the appointment in the first place. But to his relief, at least the doctor had only used her gloved fingers, and the scary tools stayed in the tray.

  “The number of weeks of pregnancy is based on Ryann’s report of when her last menstrual cycle began,” the doctor explained. “Women are sometimes wrong, and could be off by a week or two, that’s all. You may have been pregnant for longer than you think.”

  After the pelvic exam, the ultrasound machine was wheeled in, Ryann’s stomach bared, and the nurse squirted a clear, bluish gel onto her. She startled a little, and the doctor patted her calf, apologizing for how cold the substance was. She put the wand against Ryann’s abdomen, moving it back and forth and pressing down in areas.

  The image on the screen looked like an amorphous, meaningless blob to Spencer, with areas of shifting light and dark grey. He squinted to make sense of it, and saw that Ryann was craning her neck to do the same.

  “Oh!” Dr. Billingsley said. “Well that explains it.”

  “What?” Ryann’s voice trembled as she spoke.

  “Mr. Hall, you want to come a little closer?”

  Spencer leaned in.

  “See this flicker?” The doctor pointed to the monitor.

  He nodded.

  “And this?”

  “What?” Ryann asked again, craning her head to see the monitor. “What are we …?”

  “Heartbeats,” Dr. Billingsley said, emphasizing her use of the plural. “Two hearts.”

  “Wait, what?” Ryann said.

  “Two strong heartbeats,” the doctor nodded. “Two healthy babies. Congratulations.”

  Spencer released Ryann’s hand and pumped his fist. “Hells yeah!”

  “I’m guessing you’re going to want pictures,” Dr. Billingsley said, smiling at them both.

  Ryann lay on her back, staring at the ceiling, her hand resting on her stomach.

  She hadn’t told Ivy yet. She hadn’t even completely begun to believe it herself.

  Two? She was having two? All she had dared hope for was one. One baby, and that would have been more of a blessing than she believed she deserved. And then, because who knew what might happen with Spencer, she didn’t even let herself consider whether someday there could be a second. But two at once? That had never even entered her mind, although perhaps it should have, since Spencer’s sister had twins.

  After the doctor’s appointment, she had been too dazed to return to the office, so Spencer had driven her over to his place and then headed out to his worksite for the day, a goofy grin still on his face. Not once had he said a single thing that sounded like fear, or even anxiety at the thought of there being two babies. Ryann would have expected at least one comment, about the cost, the sleepless nights that were ahead of them … something. But he hadn’t uttered a single word other than those of pure, unadulterated excitement.

  As soon as they got in his car, he’d taken a few minutes to send some text messages, spreading the news to Ryann had no idea who. Watching him type out those messages, clumsily and having to correct things several times, a strange warmth had come over her. She peered at his handsome profile, out of the corner of her eye as Spencer grinned and nodded at the phone when someone sent him a quick response.

  Apart from Ivy, there really wasn’t a single person who would get an exultant text message from her. Not a single soul. Because of her work, she was always at parties, dinners, and other functions during the week. Her life was busy, she spent hundreds of hours traveling. And most of the time—though not all—it helped her forget that there were very few people she cared deeply about, and very few who cared deeply for her.

  And yet, it was Spencer Hall—the man with the name like a college dorm, whose reputation was of casually bedding one in just about every five women he spoke to—who was teaching her what it meant to be truly connected to people.

  Ryann hesitated to name what she was feeling. All she knew was that it was uncomfortable and unsettling, and the most amazing thing she had ever felt in her life. Maybe it was about the baby … the babies. But after the doctor’s visit, looking at Spencer, she saw him—and believed—for the very first time, that he was her man.

  Now, it was dusk and he would soon be home. He would bring dinner, and insist she get up and eat it with him, and then later she would be too weak to make herself leave him, and go home. So, she would fall asleep in his bed, with him behind her, arms around her, hands on her belly. All of that was so easy to do.

  She needed a little more time, a little more space to think. What would her mother say now? You need to do some soul-searching, Ryann. Some praying.

  Sitting up, Ryann slipped her feet into her heels, and then, feeling how tight they were, decided to go without them. Reaching for her phone, she opened the Uber app and called a car, hoping it would get there soon, so that when Spencer arrived, she would already be gone.

  Rolling over to reach for the phone, Spencer muttered a curse, wondering who might be calling him at just past two in the morning. Then he remembered Ryann, and how she had slipped away after the OB appointment. Switching on his bedside lamp, he grabbed the phone from its cradle.

  “You a’ight?” he asked, his voice thick with sleep.

  “Yeah, I’m fine,” she said. She sounded confused about why he would ask such a thing. “I just … I wanted orange juice and I don’t have any.”

  Glancing at the clock to make sure he hadn’t misread the time, Spencer ran a hand over his head and fell back against his pillow again.

  “Okay. Orange juice. I’ll pick some up tomorrow after work and bring it over.”

  “No, I meant now. I can’t sleep and that’s what I’m craving.”

  “Ryann …”

  “I could just go to the 7-Eleven if you don’t think you’re up to it.”

  Spencer pursed his lips to stop h
imself from cursing. She knew good and well there was no way he was letting her leave her house to go to a convenience store in the middle of the night. He thought this shit only happened in the movies.

  “Nah,” he said. “It’s cool. I’ll get it.”

  “You sure?” she asked, suddenly considerate. “I know it’s late.”

  “I’ll be there in about forty minutes,” he said. “Sit tight.”

  On the way out to Maryland, he stopped at a 24-hour Rite Aid and got her a gallon of orange juice, and a pint of chocolate ice cream as well, just in case. Yawning for the entire drive to her place, Spencer tried to put his finger on what might be wrong. Something was off. Just the tiniest bit askew, and had been for a few days now.

  Ryann had been alternately sweet-as-pie, and then shrill and demanding. Greg told him it was par for the course, so he tried not to sweat it, giving her a little more room than he was personally inclined to, especially after the news they got. Not one, but two babies. But since it was a lot for anyone to wrap their mind around, Spencer decided to give her some space. After calling to ask whether she wanted him to come over, and confirming that she didn’t, he let her alone.

  He spent his evening checking out his finances, doing some calculations, and picking his sister’s brain about what it was like to have two infants to take care of. Then, because he was still restless, he’d gone for a late workout and come home exhausted and ready to hit the hay.

  Before all this baby business, she had been an independent career woman, accustomed to doing things by herself and for herself, so he was trying to respect that. He preferred to sleep with her every night. To eat dinner and retire for the evening in the same bed. He didn’t care if they talked or not, or even if they were in the same room for much of the evening. But he liked sitting with her at a table to share a meal, clearing up afterward, and then going through the rituals of turning in—washing up, brushing teeth, watching a little television—as a couple. He surrendered those preferences for the sake of equilibrium, but things were not in equilibrium, they were off-balance. He just couldn’t figure out exactly why.

  He tried to make himself believe it was just the shock of learning she was having twins. Especially since, after the ultrasound, her doctor sat them both down and explained that pregnancies with multiples, though exciting, were inherently high-risk; and that with Ryann’s age, she would have to be careful about lots of things to keep herself and the babies healthy. Ryann listened, quietly and with large eyes. And only Spencer had asked questions. In the car, she still didn’t speak, except to say she didn’t want to go back to work.

  When he dropped her off at his place, she said she would probably spend the afternoon napping. And that was all. If Spencer wondered why she didn’t seem as thrilled at the news as he was, he kept that wonder to himself. Ryann was complicated like that. She needed to “process.” So, he was willing to let her do that, even though finding her gone when he returned in the early evening had left a bitter knot of disappointment in his gut.

  Now, pulling into her driveway, just about three-quarters of an hour after her call, Spencer had barely cut the engine off and got out of his vehicle before Ryann opened her front door. Wearing a long blue nightshirt and a scarf covering her hair, she greeted him by taking the plastic bag with the juice and ice cream from his hands and heading inside. Spencer followed her into the kitchen and watched as she filled a large glass with ice and then filled it to the brim with juice.

  She gulped it down like a woman dying of thirst, with barely a pause to take a breath. When she was done, she exhaled deeply. Then, finally, she looked at him and smiled.

  “Thank you,” she said.

  Scratching the back of his neck Spencer mumbled a ‘you’re welcome’ and then looked her over. The front of her shirt stretched a little to accommodate her stomach, and her face had recently become fuller. It amazed Spencer how quickly things had changed. After a long period of no obvious difference in her appearance, now Ryann seemed to transform almost daily.

  “What?” she asked, noticing his scrutiny.

  Spencer shrugged.

  “You’re staring at me,” Ryann said.

  He shrugged again.

  “I know I’m getting fat,” she said, smoothing the front of her nightshirt. “Dr. Billingsley said …”

  “You’re not getting fat. You’re pregnant.”

  “Pregnant women can be fat.”

  “They can. But you’re not. You’re carrying around two people. Besides, I heard that when it’s a first pregnancy …” Something flickered in Ryann’s eyes and that made him stop talking.

  She turned away from him, and put her glass in the kitchen sink, turning on the water for a moment, and then turning if off again.

  “Is it?” he asked.

  “What?”

  “Your first. Pregnancy.”

  After several beats, Ryann spoke quietly. “No.”

  Ryann was a thirty-five-year-old woman. A woman who, by her own telling, had a fair amount of experience. It shouldn’t have surprised Spencer to hear she had been pregnant before, but it did. It surprised him, and took some of the wind out of the sails that had him flying high since the doctor appointment.

  Turning to face him once again, she leaned against the edge of the sink. Gaze fixed on her, Spencer gripped the countertop behind him. The space between them felt immense.

  “Wh …”

  “I was in college,” Ryann said before he could finish the question. “I needed to finish my degree, and …”

  “You had an abortion?”

  From the way she looked at him, Spencer knew she heard the harsh edge in his voice.

  “I couldn’t have taken care of a baby, Spencer. I wasn’t even close to being in a position to …”

  “Your body, your choice, right?”

  “Don’t say it like that.” She shook her head. “As a man, you have no idea …”

  “So, this is what?” he continued. “Your do-over?”

  Ryann’s eyes widened slightly. “There’s no substituting one baby for another. That baby is gone.”

  “Because you got rid of it.”

  “Whatever happened to you not caring what happened before we got together?” she demanded.

  “I still don’t,” he lied.

  This, he did care about. Not because he was anti-abortion, but because part of what excited him about this pregnancy was the idea that he and Ryann were doing it for the first time, together.

  “Y’know what? Just … make sure you shut the door on your way out.”

  Ryann tried to walk by him, but he held her arm; and firmly yet gently, turned her to face him, forcing her to make eye contact.

  “I’m not leaving,” he said. “And I’m not … I’m not judging you for what you had to do back then. I just wish you’d told me.”

  “Why?” Ryann looked at him, and her eyes were rimmed in pink. “It’s not a pretty story, but hell … it’s not an original one, either. It didn’t seem worth talking about.”

  “Tell me anyway,” Spencer said.

  With her standing there, her body swollen with his growing children … shit, his children … he couldn’t imagine not wanting to know everything about her.

  Ryann had been right after all. That night, when they were lying in her bed, and he said they should have a baby together, he hadn’t grasped the magnitude of what he was saying. But lately, he had begun to.

  Watching the bump in Ryann’s middle grow larger, and firmer; and even being with his nieces on weekends had begun driving it all home—they were making a person. A sentient, independent being who would have to live out their lives carrying a million tiny footprints from the people their mother and father were. And now, it was not one person, but two.

  He didn’t even know what his footprints on these babies might be, but now it was dawning on him that while he had given her chapter and verse of his family history, he knew little or nothing about Ryann’s. Except for the brother who was in priso
n, she hadn’t talked about family at all. He was supposed to be meeting her mother soon, but she hadn’t breathed a word about setting a firm date. There was a universe of things he didn’t know.

  But Ryann was just standing there, looking at him, close-lipped as though she’d suddenly lost her ability to speak.

  “Tell me,” Spencer said again.

  ~25~

  “Now?” Ryann said. “You want to talk about this now?”

  “You woke me up out of a deep sleep for orange juice,” Spencer reminded her. “This feels a little more important than that.”

  “Are we going to do it in here? Standing in my kitchen?”

  “You’re stalling.”

  “Let’s go in the living room,” she said.

  She felt his eyes on her back as she led him there. Lately his eyes were always on her, or never far. He watched her with a protective gaze that made a deep tenderness well up inside her. She had been shoving that feeling back down whenever it arose, but it was stronger than her will to repress it.

  Sitting on the sofa, and folding her legs beneath her, Ryann waited until Spencer was similarly settled. He chose the armchair that was directly opposite her, and she knew it was because he wanted to see her face while she spoke.

  “What do you want to know?” she asked quietly.

  “Who was he?” Spencer asked without hesitation.

  He sounded angry, as though whomever it was that had gotten her pregnant before him was a current rival.

  “It’s not some big, dramatic story. He was my college boyfriend. His name was Wade. Is Wade.”

  “And?”

  “We met at a talk I went to at George Washington University. He was in the business school and I was in undergrad at UDC. He approached me, and we started hanging out, and …” Ryann shrugged. “After a while we were in a relationship.”

  Her first relationship. Her only relationship.

  She thought the sun rose when Wade Jameson opened his eyes. He was, to her, perfection. He had a name like a comic book superhero, and the looks to go along with it. Or at least, that was what she thought at the time. Today, Ryann doubted that Wade would turn her head, but back then, he was a revelation.