Trouble Me

by Beck Anderson

  I think. It’s been a while since I’ve had to keep track of this kind of stuff. “I guess beginning of May.”

  He smiles. “June got away from you, huh?”

  “I just never…” I trail off.

  Hunter and Beau will freak. A baby. My life will be turned upside down for the next four years. And the boys have been so wonderful, such little men. So much fun to relate to.

  Andrew looks at me. “Why are you crying? Isn’t this a good thing?”

  I shrug. “I don’t know.” I can’t say anything. I can’t.

  He looks hurt. “Don’t you want a baby with me?”

  “We’re not married. I’m almost thirty-eight. I’ve been done for a while with being huge and babies and diapers and tantrums and no sleep. I made it through that stage seven years ago. Seven, Andrew! The boys are eleven and thirteen. Hunter’ll be fourteen in September. To go back to it now…the thought is just exhausting.” I pull the blanket around myself and check to make sure the bathroom door is shut tight. I don’t want either son to overhear this conversation.

  Andrew is quiet for a minute. “We should make sure. We’re talking about something we don’t even know yet. We’re talking about nothing, as far as we know.”

  “It could be a bug. A virus,” I say, but I know it’s not. The second the idea formed in my brain, every part of me had that shocking realization. When someone describes how an idea “dawns” on you, this is what she’s talking about. The sun rises, and it only sets in one direction. Not the other way, not ever.

  “We’ll run into town for the test. Then we can have this discussion.” He pats my hand. “I’ll tell the boys we’re going in for milk, see if they need anything. It’s a rainy, lazy day anyway. They’ll probably be happy not to have to get fully dressed.” He sounds chipper. But as he turns, just for the briefest second, I see a look of sadness.

  He’s disappointed in me. I think he was excited, and I shut him down so quickly. He’s never had a child.

  I’m such a bitch.

  “Andrew, wait.” I squeeze his hand. “Listen. It’ll be good, either way. No matter what.”

  “Remember, this is an amazing gene pool you’re swimming in,” he tells me. “Imagine what a kid could be like with us for parents! An astonishingly good-looking professor of literature! An Olympic runner who does soap operas!” He flashes his smile and goes to tell the boys we’re going into town.

  I wash my mouth out, brush my teeth, comb through my hair, and put it up in a new ponytail. In the mirror, the green tinge in my face seems to have subsided. It’s been replaced with an exhausted look. My thirty-seven-almost-thirty-eight-year-old face is pale and tired.

  Slow down, Kelly. Breathe. I walk out into the living room and see Beau. He’s wearing an impossibly small pair of shorts and an old soccer jersey. This is what I get when I let him pack for himself. He wants the independence.

  I was so close. Am I starting all over again? Really?

  I give his shoulder a little squeeze and glide out to the porch, escaping the bacon smell. The rain blows sideways. I feel wet tendrils of my hair immediately crawl into my mouth, whip into my eyes, and plaster my neck, driven out of the ponytail I just reset not two minutes ago.

  But the cold, wet air feels fresh on my clammy skin. I try to breathe in as much of it as I possibly can.

  “Come here, pet.” Andrew is behind me, and he pulls me into him, wrapping his arms around me in the sideways rain.

  “I’m sorry. Let’s go get the test and start over.” I tell him as I turn around and hide from the salt and spray in the folds of his coat. I smell him, a little Old Spice and his unmistakable Andrew smell, a faint hint of musky sweat, feel his breath on my neck.

  “Let’s go.” He tilts my face up to him, kisses my forehead.

  We drive to the Tolovana convenience store. Elvin, the Bosnian owner, comes to the door and holds it open as we rush in from the rain.

  God love him. It suddenly strikes me that if we were anywhere else in the world and Andy Pettigrew, movie star, strolled in and bought a pregnancy test with his live-in girlfriend, we’d be sunk.

  But Elvin, he would never tell a soul anything. His smile is broad and warm under his spidery mustache. He’s maybe twenty-two. His dad died late last year of a heart attack, and Elvin came home from Oregon State with a new degree in marketing and a business to run all of a sudden.

  “Kelly and Andrew. Why are you out in such rotten weather?” There’s the tiniest trace of a foreign accent in his speech. The only other clue to his heritage is next to the “We ID under 39” sign under the glass at the counter: the bumper sticker that says “Srebrenica 1995.” It’s a reminder of the turmoil that brought his family here in the first place.

  Andrew looks positively placid. What an actor. This might be the performance that deserves a nomination. “Junk food. Possibly doughnuts. And a few other little odds and ends.”

  I roam the aisles for a few moments, praying and hoping that Elvin actually carries pregnancy tests. Otherwise we’ll relive this ordeal in each little market farther north on the coast of Oregon until I may possibly die of the stress.

  But, thankfully, there are two, snuggled in next to condoms, adult diapers, and stacks of kindling for beach bonfires. I check the expiration dates and pick both of them up.

  “Are you ready?” Andrew looks at me, smiles as he puts three Gatorades and a bag of white powdered doughnuts on the counter.

  “Yep.” My voice is a tiny peep. I place the tests next to his pile.

  And what happens next is an absolute miracle. Elvin looks down at the tests, looks up at me, and comes around the counter to give me a hug.

  “This is good, right?” He looks me right in the eye.

  I start to cry, but I can feel the smile on my face, and it’s true and very wide. “If we are, then, yes, it’s very good.” I hug him tightly.

  Leave it to me to have the first bonding moment of my pregnancy with the c-store owner, not Andrew. Kelly Reynolds, the complete and total social failure, as usual.

  Andrew pays and slips an arm around my shoulder. He squeezes me tightly. “Mum’s the word, Elvin. It’s you, me, and Kelly for now.”

  “I give you my word, Andrew. The Reynolds family, they’ve been here every summer since when I was in high school, and Hunter and Beau were just little. And you, the big movie star, we’ve kept your secret, right? This one’s the same, I promise.” He gives us a thumbs-up for good measure.

  We drive back to the beach house. Andrew holds my hand the whole way. Now I do feel a little excited. There are lots of good things about this. Pregnancy is just nine months. I’d never even considered that Andrew and I could have a child together. “You know, Andrew, the path of us just got a lot longer, if this is true.” I watch his eyes, which are fixed on the rain, the windshield, and the road ahead.

  He grins. “And what do you think of that?”

  “I think I like it.”

  “I think I like it too.” He turns his head to look at me, and his grin is even wider. He squeezes my hand.

  We get back inside to find the both boys in the kitchen. Hunter has the frying pan out, and Beau cracks eggs into a bowl.

  “Hey, guys.” Andrew comes to Beau, gives him a side squeeze. “What’re you making?”

  “Scrambled eggs, the only thing we can make.” Hunter digs through the drawers for a spatula.

  “Not true. I can make macaroni and toast. Speak for yourself.” Beau always bristles at any hint of dependence. He’s determined to be his own man.

  Hunter snorts. “Yeah, you’re a regular Bobby Flay.”

  “I don’t even know who that is.” Beau shoves him.

  Andrew intervenes. “I like the teamwork here. Can we just stick with that and skip the fighting? I’ll wash dishes if you can get along.”

  Andrew’s found a way to help parent without parenting. The boys don’t see him as a father figure, but they respect him as an adult who loves them and wants to help. He’s the co
ol guy in the house, but he never wavers on house rules, always backs me up when the boys chafe at responsibilities. I am lucky.

  He shoots me a look over the boys’ heads, nodding in the direction of the master suite.

  Two seconds before I ask what he’s waggling his eyebrows for, I remember the tests sitting in a bag on the kitchen table.

  Hunter stands at the refrigerator. “I thought you guys went into town for milk. We’re still out.”

  Andrew stalls. “Oh, yeah, that…” Here’s hoping Andrew’s acting can get us out of this. I let him handle it and make for the bathroom.

  I use both of the sticks and stand at the bathroom counter, staring at pink lines. There’s a knock on the door.

  “Yes?”

  “Let me in. I want to see the official results.” Andrew nudges the door open.

  “Not much to see yet.” I hold up one of the sticks. There’s still nothing in the second window.

  He picks up the other one. “What am I looking for? And does this have pee all over it? Because now maybe I don’t want to hold it.”

  “I have good aim; don’t be gross. You’re looking for another line in the second box.”

  “You mean like this?” He puts an arm around me and shows me the stick in his hand. It has lines, lines in both windows, pink and clear as day.

  We’re pregnant. Officially. I look at him, and he picks me up in his arms. He kisses me hard, and I smile under his kiss.

  Beau is at the door. “What? What’s going on?” Andrew didn’t shut the bathroom door. Beau stands there, curious.

  Now I panic. “Umm…” Are we telling them now? How are we doing this?

  Andrew takes charge. “Come on out in the living room. We have something to share with you and your brother.”

  “What?” Beau wants to know now.

  Andrew puts a hand on his shoulder, steers him to the living room, sits next to him on the couch. Andrew’s face is still completely neutral, relaxed.

  Hunter has a plate of eggs and brings it to the coffee table. “What’s up?”

  Andrew starts. “Well, boys, I’ve been with you all for a while now, and I just want to tell you again how much I love both of you. And you know how much I love your mom.”

  Hunter looks suspicious. “But what?”

  “But nothing. We have some news.” Andrew looks at me. I guess it’s my turn.

  “Guys, I’m going to have a baby.” I sit down on the other side of Beau and give him a squeeze.

  Hunter smiles. “Really? Cool!”

  “It’s really, really early, so it’ll be a while before we tell anyone.”

  “How come?” Hunter is still smiling.

  “Sometimes babies have a hard time early in the pregnancy, so we need to make sure everything is fine before we tell a lot of people.”

  Beau stands up. “How come you didn’t ask us first?” His brow darkens.

  Uh-oh. “Oh, honey, sometimes things just happen.” I don’t know if I want to say that we weren’t planning on the baby.

  “Sometimes we have to see if things can happen before we tell you too. It’s not always a sure thing when you’re having a baby.” Andrew smiles up at Beau.

  “I don’t want a little brother.” Beau frowns, and tears well up in his eyes.

  “Beau, it’s going to be fine.” I don’t know what to say. It’s been a long time since I’ve had to have a conversation like this. And Hunter was a little, little boy. Beau’s got a lot more awareness than a toddler.

  “No, no, it’s not. I don’t need a younger brother. I like the way things are right now.” He runs out of the room to his bedroom.

  I start to get up, but Andrew puts a hand on my knee. “Give him a minute.” He turns to look at Hunter. “What about you, Hunter? How are you with this?”

  Hunter shrugs. “I don’t know. I think I like it. I’m happy for you guys.” Something dawns on him. “You’re not married. Do you need to get married? Wait. This means—never mind.” He grins for a second and then picks up his plate of eggs. “I’m not thinking about that part—more than I need to know about my mom.” He gives me a peck on the cheek and offers Andrew up a fist bump. “I’m going to eat in the TV room.”

  And he’s gone.

  “Andrew, poor Beau.” I feel confused and cloudy, and tears threaten to choke me up.

  He pats my leg. “Change is hard. This is huge. He doesn’t have to love it right now. Don’t push him. We’ll just love him up, and when the baby comes, we’ll love him up then too. It’s going to be different. I promise I won’t sugar-coat it for him. But I suspect when there’s a little somebody who worships the ground he walks on, he’ll start to feel differently about it.”

  “That could be true.” Beau will be a spectacular big brother. I can see him now, doting on the little one. It’ll be amazing to watch. “He’ll love having a little brother.”

  Andrew chuckles. “A brother, huh?”

  “Just a hunch.” I feel a smile forming at the thought of another little guy toddling around.

  “Or, an assumption. So, on to Hunter’s question.” Andrew looks at me, steady and clear blue eyes searching mine.

  “What?”

  “Do we need to get married?” He holds my gaze.

  “I hadn’t even thought about that. I don’t know, Andrew.”

  “Well, just for the record, I’m game.” He leans forward and kisses my bottom lip, gives it a little nip, sending a shiver down my spine.

  “Actually, I do think I know what I want.”

  “Yes?” He’s curious.

  “I want to call a time out on this discussion. I want a real-deal proposal. I want it to be a surprise, and I want it to happen when we have time to plan whatever amazingly cool kind of wedding we want.”

  “If we’re having this conversation, you’re not going to be very surprised that I propose. Clearly it’s something I want, and you don’t seem opposed to it, either.”

  “I know that. But when Peter and I decided to get married, we had a very similar, very practical discussion, and then he took me to pick out my ring. This time, I want you to surprise me. Nothing practical. So, time out. This conversation never happened.”

  “I can get on board with that. I will hunt down the Eye of the Tiger and give it to you while we are in a hot air balloon above an active volcano. When you least suspect it. We’re going big. Very big.”

  “The baby takes first priority right now. You’re not allowed to propose to me while I’m huddled over the toilet, sick as a dog. And no proposing while I’m in labor. I will kill you if you do that. I guarantee.”

  He gets up to go do the dishes the boys have left. “I promise. None of that. Now leave me to my creative thoughts. I’m thinking about a trained monkey or possibly Donald Trump. Maybe a marching band.”

  I stick my fingers in my ears. “Not listening. We’re not having this conversation. You’re going to surprise me.”

  He laughs and kisses me on the forehead as he heads for dish duty. “What were we talking about? I’ve forgotten.”

  All this change coming at me so fast, and just when we were settling into being a family. It wasn’t until after Andrew’s rehab that we were even officially and publically a couple. That’s only been about a year. So much for a nice boring stretch of just living and existing and enjoying the status quo. But I can’t help but smile. Nothing ever stays neat in my life. Messy is how we do.

  3: Firework

  A FEW DAYS LATER WE DECIDE, in light of my recent frequent puking, not to go into town for the 4th of July parade. But Cannon Beach allows fireworks on the beach at night, and I’m surrounded by pyromaniacs. So, that’s the grand plan for Independence Day: hang around and grill assorted meat and then light stuff on fire and watch the Oregon wind whip the flames out as soon as they’re started.

  “You don’t have to come down with us. You could watch from the deck if you want,” Hunter tells me.

  He’s not trying to be helpful. He’s trying to get rid of
me. I’m not dumb. I’m the mom that doesn’t want people’s fingers blown off. This tends to put a damper on all sorts of outlandish and literally explosive ideas.

  “I’m coming. Nice try, though.”

  “Andrew’s coming with. He can handle us.” Beau packs up the beach chairs and the clever Oregon beach invention, the wind break. It’s a portable big screen to huddle behind when the wind tries to scour off the first layer of our faces. Though at sunset, the wind seems to be calmer than it has been in a few days. The sun leaks through the gray and turns strips of ocean hot pink, streaking clouds with fuchsia and orange.

  I shake my head. “I was going to take some pictures. And you don’t need adult supervision; you need female supervision. Andrew’s as much of a guy as you two—he wants to set stuff on fire too.”

  “Not true. I want to blow stuff up.” Andrew walks out onto the deck with a bag stuffed with towels and blankets. A few hours ago he and Hunter dragged and lugged and carried wood for the fire down to the high, wide sand at the top of the beach.

  “You’re not helping.” I look him up and down. I swear, he always makes an entrance. He’s just wearing old, worn jeans and a red long-sleeved T-shirt, but it’s the way he wears them. His broad shoulders, the ease with which he carries his lanky frame, the mischief in his blue eyes. I’m biased, but he’s just so damn handsome.

  “Are you going to come with us?” Beau looks annoyed.

  “At least for a while, yes.” I give him a little hug as he shrugs, resigned that the party pooper will be coming.

  Hunter isn’t so subtle. “Well, dang. There go the M-eighties.”

  “They’re not even legal. Who bought M-eighties?” I cast a scolding look at Andrew.

  “Hey, is that my cell phone ringing in the kitchen?” Andrew smiles slyly and drops the bag of stuff on the deck, making his escape.

  After much hauling of chairs, blankets, fireworks, hot dogs, and s’mores supplies, the whole Pettigrew/Reynolds family unit settles down around a bonfire on the beach. Hunter obsessively stokes it, adding kindling and bits of newspaper. Beau lights sparkler after sparkler.

  “Andrew! Watch this one and see what I’m spelling. See if you can guess.” Beau takes a punk and touches it to the tip of the sparkler. It sets off a shower of sparks, and Beau swings the sparkler in the growing darkness.