And then … and then …
There was a sound. A welcome sound.
The door to the apartment opened and her mother came in. Rick jerked away and her mother was standing there. She was frozen too, but only for a few seconds.
“Rick,” she said. “Rick … what …”
Then there was screaming, and her mother was coming at him, arms flailing. She tripped over the coffee table and Rick scrambled away, skirting around their mother, sprawled across the coffee table.
And from her safe place above it all, Ryann watched her body, still frozen and prone on the couch, the blouse pushed upward, the Calvins gaping open at the waist.
~35~
“How did you know?” Ryann’s face was wet, and she was trembling as though cold.
Spencer stood, and pulled her up and into his arms.
“I didn’t know. But I felt it,” he said. “I mean, I felt … something. Something about your spirit when you were talking to him just didn’t feel right. And then when I talked to him myself, and heard how he talked about you …”
“What did he …?”
“He didn’t tell me anything. You think he would’ve ‘fessed up to something like that?”
“But you still told him not to call.”
“Without even hearing what you just told me … Baby, I knew he wasn’t healthy for you. For our family.”
Rick talked about Ryann like a lover. Like a dude locked up who’d found out his old lady had moved on without him. That tone, Spencer was more than familiar with. Hadn’t he heard it a million times himself, waiting in line to make his own calls home when he was locked up? Men who were rendered powerless and impotent by incarceration flexing their muscle across the distance, the only way they knew how—with pure intimidation.
And then it all came together—the way Ryann would secret herself away whenever Rick was on the phone, her face turning away from Spencer, or leaving the room with her head down. The way she held a finger up to her lips, asking him to be quiet …
“That was the only time … and it wasn’t like he raped me. He only …”
“Ryann. No,” Spencer said. “There’s no ‘only’ in what he did. I told you a long time ago, sometimes I won’t ask your permission, and you need to trust me to do what I see needs to be done.”
“But he’s my …”
Spencer shook his head. “Not for now. You need some distance and time from all that. From him. We need it. They need it.” Spencer put his hand on her stomach.
At that, Ryann lifted her head to look him in the eye.
“I can’t not ever speak to him again,” she said.
Yes, she could. Spencer would make sure of it. But if what she needed to believe was that this was something that Rick could come back from, and redeem himself, then for the moment, Spencer would let her have that. But he already knew.
Rick was as good as dead to them.
He would never be Ryann’s brother again.
Never be an uncle to their children.
Never be permitted to call their home. Not under any circumstances, as long as Spencer had anything to say about it. And he intended to always have something to say about it.
Spencer was sleeping again, at regular times like a normal person. He still sometimes got a sad and distant look, which Ryann knew meant that he was thinking about and missing his mother. But at least, now, he slept.
Tonight, it was she who could not sleep. Spencer had taken her straight home after she told him her story. To his home. He seemed to know intuitively that that was where she needed to be. If he took her to her house, she would have been fearful that he wanted her there, so he could leave.
Once they were in, he cooked, and they watched television, following their usual routine. And when they were in bed, he made love to her. Slowly, quietly, carefully. He knew she needed that as well. The final expression from him, to reassure her that what he now knew wouldn’t make a difference between them. He wouldn’t push her away, like Wade had. He still wanted her. He still wanted their babies.
He didn’t ask any other questions about her and Rick either, though Ryann knew he had to have some. But one day, maybe she would tell him. About the times leading up to that night, that only now in retrospect seemed a little unusual for a brother and sister. His over-attentiveness, his gifts … everything became tainted by what happened later. Her mother had described it as ‘grooming’, and maybe that was what it was.
Part of her had been resisting believing that, for all these years. And all she recalled was how her mother treated her afterward, cautioning her about how she dressed, not to be too provocative, or give the impression to boys that she might be fast. Ryann had rebelled then, resenting that the mother who was sleeping with a married man would be hypocritical enough to even utter the word, “fast.” That was what she had remembered most –the way her mother made her ashamed of her body, and made her believe that maybe, just maybe, she had been to blame.
But there were other memories coming to the surface as well. Like the way her mother held her and cried that night, and said she was sorry. The way she didn’t hesitate to call the police and to report Rick for assaulting her. At the time, Ryann hated her for it. But now … now, she wasn’t sure what to feel.
In the end, when the prosecutor was considering charges, Ryann had refused to corroborate what her mother said to the police. But by then Rick had bigger problems. When they had arrested him for the assault on Ryann, he was at a friend’s house. A friend who had a gun that had been used in a robbery. A robbery where a man was killed, and where Rick, it turned out, was also present. The compounding of Rick’s sins had been too much for their mother. She spent the next year drinking herself into a stupor to quash her guilt. She only got sober when she found Jesus, and the substitute comfort of sugary desserts.
Now, standing at the window of Spencer’s bedroom, Ryann could see the full moon. It was luminous, mysterious and beautiful. Inside her, she felt the babies stir, and shift. Maybe playing? Maybe clinging to one another? Her mind, and her heart were full of them, and of Spencer.
For the first time in a long time, or perhaps ever, she did not wonder if somewhere, Rick might be able to see the moon as well.
“Damn. You are really pregnant, aren’t you?”
“Yes, Tone, I’m really pregnant. Like ready-to-pop-any-day pregnant. So you’d better talk fast.”
Laughing, he took a gulp of his beer. Ryann could smell the hops, and it made her stomach turn. They were back in the hipster burger joint, and when she joined him, Tone was even sitting at what she was pretty sure was the same table. He had become, over the months of filming in the city, a regular around town.
“I’m ready to move ahead with the other venture we discussed a few months back,” he said. He drank some more beer then bit into his burger. Ryann looked away from the sight of him chewing, willing herself not to throw up across the table.
Lately, the nausea had returned in full force, making even soaps and perfumes she had used for years a challenge. Just this past weekend, she sent Spencer on a mission to get all unscented products and to box up and put away everything else until after.
“After” was how they referred to the impending birth of the babies now. They said it with excitement, but also with a little scared-shitless-ness, because neither of them had any clue what a 24-hour period, let alone their lives would look like then, after.
“What other venture?”
“The foundation,” he said matter-of-factly. “We’re editing the documentary now, and lemme tell you, that shit is going to be good. If I do say so myself. I moved myself to tears with some of that footage.”
Ryann tried not to roll her eyes. “Well, congratulations.”
“Yeah, but let’s face it. You were the secret sauce. You got Greg and Spencer onboard, introduced me to the folks at the Coalition … I remember my good luck charms, and I have a feeling you’re one of them.”
“I’m about to have twins, Tone. I
won’t be working for a little while. I don’t even know how long.”
Just saying the words made her heart quake in terror. But it was what she and Spencer had agreed to. Neither of them wanted to send the babies to daycare, and it would be so expensive, Ryann would probably be working just to pay a provider to do something she could—at least in theory—do herself.
“So the timing is perfect,” Tone said shrugging. “Setting up a foundation sounds like something that’ll take a lot of background work, research, lawyers, graphic designers to think of logos, hiring of staff …”
“Yes. And all of that is work.”
“Sure. But it doesn’t have to be all on you. We’ll get someone to help. Sharma can help. You’ll be the brain trust, signing off on things, coming up with ideas, but not doing the grunt work. And when things are up and running, step in as the head.”
Ryann was certain things wouldn’t be that simple. She couldn’t just step completely away from the process, approve a couple of logos and then expect to assume leadership of a fully-formed entity. She would have to be more involved than Tone believed. It was her nature to be more involved.
But on the other hand, it could be a bridge to a different kind of life—one where she wasn’t hustling and doing business development all the time. One where the resources were assured and the project those resources were directed to would be within her control.
“I’d like to think about it,” she said. “Is that alright?”
Tone shrugged. “Take your time, but don’t make me wait too long.”
Two completely opposing concepts in a single sentence. But Ryann didn’t point that out. Instead, she smiled and nodded.
“Of course,” she said.
“How’re you going to do all that and look after two kids?”
“I never said I wouldn’t work, Spencer. I can’t not work. I can’t afford not to.”
“Maybe not forever, but at least for a year.”
“A year!”
“Yeah, I mean …”
“I’m not staying home for a year. I can’t afford a year.”
“I can.”
“Well then you stay home.”
With effort, Ryann pushed herself to a sitting position, taking several deep breaths. Lying on her stomach was impossible, lying on her side was uncomfortable, and lying on her back made her feel like she would suffocate. As much as she had enjoyed being pregnant, she was more than ready to have these children out of her body.
“You okay?” Spencer asked, brow furrowed.
“No. I can’t get … There’s no position that feels …” She punched the pillow next to her and then put it behind her back, lying back semi-prone, still panting. “Comfortable.”
“I don’t like how you sound,” Spencer said.
“Well that makes … two … of us.”
“No, I mean it. You sound winded. Like someone who has asthma, or something.”
“Dr. Billingsley … says … it’s … normal.”
“Let’s not talk about the work stuff now, then,” Spencer said. “I feel like it’s making you agitated. And making this breathing thing worse.”
Ryann let her head fall back against the pillow. “Okay,” she said. She was too tired to argue anyway.
“So, on a non-work-related note, I think we should be thinking about getting married.”
“What?” Ryann’s head popped up again.
“Yeah. I mean, who else is gon’ take you on with two kids? Especially with their father hanging around all the time.”
“Spencer …” She sat completely upright, staring at him with wide eyes.
“I know this wasn’t the plan. We were just going to have a baby and I don’t know, kick it occasionally.” He shook his head. “I don’t even get why we thought that dumb shit would work. But the point is, I love you, and I already feel like you’re my …”
“Yes,” Ryann said.
Spencer narrowed his eyes in disbelief and Ryann laughed at his expression.
“Yes,” she said again.
“But …”
“But nothing. You were right. I don’t know why we thought that other dumb shit would work. It never worked. Not from the first second we tried it. And besides, I’ll be damned if I’m going to let any other woman have you. Ever.”
Spencer grinned. “You made that so easy.”
“It’s about time I made something easy for you, don’t you think?”
Leaning in, he kissed her, pushing her back against the pillow once again. “I don’t care about easy.”
“Good,” Ryann said against his lips. “Because when I start running Tone’s new foundation, things are probably going to be very, very hard.”
Spencer pulled away. “Here you go. I never said I was down with …”
“And you don’t have to be down with it, Spencer! At the end of the day, I’m the one who is going to have to …”
“Ryann. Stop.”
Hearing that familiar, extra-deep bass in his voice again, she stopped.
“All this back-and-forth?” Spencer said. “This bickerin’ and shit? That ain’t for us. We’ll figure out what to do about Tone and his foundation, the way we’ll figure everything out. Together.”
Except for when he asserted himself as the head in this relationship, and figured it out for them both, Ryann thought. Her mind drifted fleetingly in Rick’s direction. But she was getting used to that.
Her brother came to her occasionally, and stood there for a few seconds, or a few minutes, in the center of her consciousness. And she observed him. Not with anger, not with judgment. And these days, with less and less guilt.
“Okay,” she said quietly. “We’ll figure it out, together.”
~Epilogue~
“She wants to come? Here?”
Ryann looked up from nursing, her eyes wide in surprise.
Aiden and Ava Hall were born on the evening of the first snow of the season. Though Ryann wanted to deliver them naturally, once he heard the risks, both to mother and babies, Spencer made another of his ‘executive decisions’ which she was too exhausted to object to. Aiden was six pounds three ounces, and Ava was an even five pounds. Spencer held Ryann’s hand, squeezing it almost painfully tight as they were pulled from her body, and stayed with her until they heard both babies cry with gusto. Then he’d looked down at her, and smiled, tears clouding his eyes.
Ryann was dazed, and happy, and disbelieving. She had her babies. Finally, she had her babies.
They were healthy, and strong enough to leave the hospital after only five days, and two of those were because Ryann had to recuperate from the C-section. Now, they were home—in Ryann’s house, where they would make their family. Spencer’s townhouse was going on the market in the spring when he said conditions would be more favorable for sellers. Beyond that, they had made no decisions about how long Ryann would be home, or whether she would take Tone up on his offer.
For the present, at least, Ryann couldn’t imagine wanting to do anything, or be anywhere other than where she was right now.
Today, the first day they would be receiving visitors, was Saturday. Spencer had called Ryann’s mother to let her know that since it was cold out, it would be a while before they made it over with the babies to see her.
“She said she couldn’t wait. Asked whether it would be alright for her to come,” Spencer said, shrugging.
“And what did you …?”
“I told her to come,” he said. “Right? I mean …”
“No. Yeah. Of course.”
Things with her mother had been a little tentative, but less strained. They were trying to understand each other better, and Ryann wanted that. She yearned for it. Not just for her, but for Aiden and Ava, so they could have a grandmother.
Ryann knew, because her mother alluded to it, that she had begun hearing from Rick more often, and that they were repairing their relationship. But that was all she knew, and all Ryann wanted to know. She wished her brother no ill. She wished
him nothing at all. Her feelings toward him had receded to a comfortable place of almost-neutrality. She no longer felt the need to examine, or tinker with that emotion. Especially now that all her emotions, every fiber of her feeling self was completely and actively engaged with Spencer, and their children.
Ryann looked down at the top of Aiden’s head, and stroked it gently with the tips of her three index fingers. She could already feel differences in the twins’ personalities. Aiden was the more aggressive one with his suckling, often causing her to grimace when he latched on, his little hands already reflexively grasping and trying to clutch at her breast.
Ava was mellow, and gentle. She had bright, but still unfocused eyes, the exact same color as her father’s and hair that was a reddish-auburn like her Aunt May’s. Aiden was darker, both in complexion and hair, but had Spencer’s eyes as well. When they were both in their cribs, Ryann often got out of bed late at night to find him standing there, staring down at them as they slept, a dreamy, contentment on his face.
“Should we make up one of the spare rooms for her?” Spencer asked. “Once she gets here, if it’s late, I don’t know that I’d feel comfortable sending her home by Uber, or in a cab. And I’m not leaving you here all alone with two babies.”
Ryann looked up at him. “You’re going to have to do that sooner or later,” she pointed out.
A fleeting look of worry crossed Spencer’s features and Ryann felt her heart clench with love for him. She called it that now—she didn’t pretend it was anything other than that. Because there was no longer any point. She had given herself over to it. She was in love with, and was loved by this man.
They were still planning to get married, but maybe in the late spring, when the babies were older. It didn’t feel urgent, it felt … inevitable. And the inevitability of it made her feel secure. Spencer didn’t even want to leave her to go to the grocery store these days let alone for any other reason.
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