by Lila Felix
“Um, ok, thank you.” She sat beside me and Reed tried desperately to change the subject but by the look on Falcon’s face, he wasn’t expecting it.
“I’m pregnant!” She announced and then retracted into her seat surprised at her own veracity.
The whole table was a bundle of ‘Congratulations’ and ‘Finallys’. Then Nellie interjected, “Oh, Sylvia’s in the kitchen. You told us without her here. Run, Reed, run!”
A roar of laughter broke out before Falcon straightened it out, “We told her and Dad this morning. No harm, no foul.”
And while I was ecstatic for Falcon and Reed, since they’d been trying for years and apparently she’d been pregnant before their trip last weekend, a shard of disappointment had lodged itself in my heart at Journey’s reaction to Scout’s declaration. And the seeds of doubt took root at the base of the splice.
Would she leave again? She had to know. If she was with me then at some point Scout would see her as a mother figure. She said she was all in. She said she was all in. She said she was all in.
Owen pegged me across the table with a look that I recognized as ‘we’ll talk later’. Journey didn’t speak for the rest of the night except to acknowledge someone’s question or laugh when she thought it was appropriate. But she was somewhere else altogether.
I walked her to her car, Scout in tow, and she got in without a word except saying goodbye to Scout. And the shard dug in a little deeper.
~~~
I realized that night that I’d overreacted. She probably wouldn’t have acted so weird if I hadn’t basically given her the cold shoulder the whole night. It was an awful thing to do to her, after all, I wasn’t exactly planning a celebration when I found out I was going to be a father. After Scout went to bed I went into my bedroom and called her.
“Hello.” Yeah, she was ticked.
“I’m sorry,” I breathed into the phone.
“What was the deal? Did I do something wrong? Did I say something to embarrass you? I’ve wracked my brain all night and I just can’t come up with it. Not that I’m perfect, but I just don’t see it.”
“I just saw your face when Scout said you were going to be her mom and I freaked out. I thought maybe you changed your mind.”
No words were exchanged for what felt like months.
“Nixon, I need to get off this phone before I say something I don’t mean. I will talk to you tomorrow.”
And just like that she hung up on me. I’d pushed her way with my insecurities. But they were justified, right?
I was constantly telling her that the past didn’t matter and I loved her anyway, but my actions spoke a whole different attitude.
I sucked.
Plus, I hadn’t heard a word from my father about Brandy’s custody demands and I was more worried than I wanted to portray. It was killing me.
Chapter 19
Journey
Boys sometimes suck.
I know everybody at the table saw the look on his face. It was Oscar the grouch swirled with that evil snow guy from the old clay action Christmas movies. And I knew exactly why.
But I couldn’t help it. There I was, making my debut, well, not really my debut as I’d met them all before, but this was a full on family dinner, like I was part of them. My nerves were dizzy with anticipation and at the sight of them; I breathed a sigh of relief. These were just regular people and then Scout’s voice rose above the rest and I smiled a fraction, thoughts flashing of what she’d come up with. And then she said it.
She said I was going to be her mom. And I’m sure my face betrayed me. There was a big chunk of me that was shocked but there was another part, a part that grew by the second as the idea sunk in how proud I would be to be called her mother—to even be a fleck on that kid’s radar.
And then I saw Nixon’s face and for the life of me I couldn’t decide whether he was pissed at me, or embarrassed that Scout had announced our intentions. And then I sat next to him and he didn’t touch me, not once. Nixon was all over me, even when we were only friends.
And then I thought maybe I’d done something and he was angry. Anger I could deal with. But after he’d deducted that somehow my shock meant that I’d pulled out of our relationship was—it was insane.
I wasn’t angry—I was hurt. He didn’t trust me. But I had no right to be hurt—I deserved his distrust.
~~~
I stepped out of the shower the next morning and tucked a towel under my arms. I tapped the countertop in front of the coffee maker, pleading with it to hurry up. After filling my cup to the brim, I took that first sip of life giving liquid.
A knock at the door startled me, put me on full alert and made me spill coffee all over myself. I didn’t know if that creep Simon was out there or not. So I didn’t answer it. My phone rang and my skeleton nearly broke free of my skin, it startled me so badly.
It was Nixon.
I was barely able to connect to the call before Nixon spoke, “It’s me, darlin’”
Have I mentioned how much I loved it when he called me darlin’? Even when I was hurt—especially when I was hurt.
I opened the door and he barged in. I didn’t know whether I was ready to see him, so I made some excuse about showering after the coffee incident and exited swiftly.
I tried to work out with the lukewarm spray how I would handle this. Finally, I just asked it the question I’d die to know the answer to.
“How can I live with him not trusting me?”
“You don’t have to,” I heard from the other side of the door—and for the second time in just a half an hour, I’d been scared shitless.
“Keep talking Nixon Black.”
“I was wrong. I was judging you based on…”
“Based on eighteen year old Journey—I guess I deserve that.”
My legs failed me. I couldn’t escape her. I couldn’t escape the self-centered bitch I’d once been no matter how much I felt like she was a stranger—no matter how much I asked her to leave. I crouched on the slick baby blue tiles of my tiny shower and swallowed the sobs as best I could.
The curtain flew open and before I could rebel, I was hefted onto his lap where he now sat on the floor next to the shower. My shoulders shook with sobs, I could no longer disguise and I grabbed onto his shoulders and clawed my way as close to him as I could get. He didn’t say a word—words would do nothing for me now.
I sat sideways on his lap and after a few seconds, I felt his hands pull against the underside of my knees, tucking me closer against him. And then I remembered I was pissed and pushed away from him.
“We have nothing if you can’t trust me. I’m the first to apologize and be absolutely ashamed of who I used to be, but you can’t hold me to that anymore, Nixon. Either you love and trust who I am now or we’re done as much as it kills me to say it. And just so you know,” the choking sobs broke through my words, “I love that kid. I’ve told you that before but damn it, I mean it. You can’t imagine how honored I’d be if one day she wants to call me anything that resembles, Mom.” I beat on his chest for effect.
He tipped my chin, making sure I looked directly in his eyes and then encircled both of my wrists with his hands, tethering me down like I was a wild animal, ready to bolt at any minute.
“I can’t apologize enough, Journey. I won’t even try to excuse it. I do trust you. I’m not the same person I was just as you weren’t. I love you so much.”
He finished his apology by crushing his mouth against mine. I could feel the pricks and sanding of my lips by the fragments of facial hair, already growing in from his morning shave. I threaded my fingers through the back of his hair, pulling him closer, though I couldn’t tell anymore where my mouth ended and his began. I could feel his hands on my bare waist and the fabric of his shirt against my naked chest—naked chest.
I pulled away. Nixon understood, realizing the gravity of the scenario. He reached over to the counter and grabbed my towel and draped it over my shoulders after I shivered in cold
and modesty. I stood, back to him, taking the towel with me and burritoed myself in it.
“Um, Journey?”
“Yeah?”
“What’s on your ass?”
I turned around, shocked, even though I just been naked in his lap and I was sure he’d seen a lot more than my hind quarters. But I knew exactly what he referred to. I’d had a large tattoo that started on my right butt cheek and extended along my hip and up along my waist and ended right below my right breast. It took me months and months to finish and I’d never shown anyone.
“Um—birds?”
“Come on, you have to let me see it now. You saw all of mine.”
I scoffed at him, “Yours are kinda in a different place. It’s just a tad bit different. Don’t you think?”
He shrugged, “Journey, you were just in my lap, stark naked. You’re gonna get modest now? Put the towel over your front. You’re gonna have to show me someday.” He sang the last part.
“Fine,” I moved the towel around, covering the front of myself and turning just enough for him to get a good look. And it thrilled me, him looking at my body, even before he touched me, his eyes did.
He hesitated, hands outstretched but eyes still locked with mine, though he nearly begged to see my ink. The ridiculousness of the situation sunk into me. I hoped that one day this would be my husband, and yet I was too scared to show him a very important part of me.
How challenged was I?
A flare of brazenness swept through me. I took his outstretched hand in mine and placed it where the tattoo began. He sucked in a breath and finally gave my ink the attention it deserved. His hand moved of its own accord across my hip, skimming over the indent of my waist, to the tree where the birds took shelter.
“It looks almost identical to my tree,” He whispered.
“I know. That’s why I was so curious about your tree. I can’t believe how alike they are.”
“It’s beautiful. Am I forgiven, darlin’?”
“Absolutely,” I looked down at his watch.
“Nixon, it’s nearly nine. You’re late for work.”
“I’ve got some things to take care of, so I took the day off. Can I take my girls to dinner tonight?”
“That’s the best idea you’ve had yet. But I don’t get home until eight. Scout will be ready for bed.”
He got up off the floor and his neck down to his ankles were soaked.
“Well then come over and just let me hold you—tell Scout goodnight—just be with me.”
“You’re on a roll Black. Keep talking like that and I might not leave.”
“That’s what I’m counting on. I gotta go home and change before my meeting.” He turned and took the palm of my hand in his and brought it to his mouth and kissed it. “I love you Journey. And you might get a call from Storey today—fair warning.”
I whined at him, “You know I hate talking on the phone!”
“Get over it, darlin’. You’re part of this family now. Phone talking and texting comes with the territory. And if Storey has your number, you can bet that pretty ass that everyone in the family now has it. Happy texting.”
He left me there, naked and pissed.
“Now I’m late for work!”
Chapter 19
Storey
He encouraged my bad attitude on Saturday nights.
My pads were so rotten that Maddox asked me to keep them in the garage. But they were the funk of a veteran, the stench of a pro.
“If we give you a certificate or announce that you have the stinkiest pads will you please wash them?” Reed begged.
“No way. I swear the stink of these pads get me through the pack, no problem. And that last jammer, the one who fell down—she got too close to these babies and nearly passed out. They are our secret weapons.” I was proud of my--aroma.
Nellie chimed in, “For someone who primps in the mirror more than anyone I know, you sure do love those moldy things. They make me want to put a sign on your helmet that says, ‘There’s a fungus—among us.’”
“Leave me alone, man. I love my funk.”
The bout was brutal. It seemed like for every ten points Nellie or I scored, the other team scored thirty or more. Even Nixon fell down once and he never fell down, like ever. And he was being a dickhead to top it off. He practically bit my head off when I got confused and didn’t wait for the pack to pass before re-entering the jam. And he looked tired, more tired than when Scout was a baby. But it didn’t excuse him.
“Hey, asshole, who curdled your milk? Take your shit out on someone else. Don’t bring it in the rink.” I said in passing after the bout was over.
“Get your head in the game, Betty Page and stop prissing around.”
That one stung.
And we were missing Reed. Since her announcement, she couldn’t skate anymore and no matter what Nellie said, she was our best jammer.
I understood Nixon’s attitude—I did. His father and the other lawyers were still working on Brandy’s ridiculous custody claim and though he tried to hide it, anyone could tell he was strung tighter than a mandolin.
And I’d decided to play nice. Journey and I were taking Scout to the aquarium the next day along with Nellie, and Reed. Nixon was kinda miffed about that too. But the boys were having their eat lots of greasy food and watch Testosterone Tom or Manly Manny, something like that. Plus, we were gonna have Scout all to ourselves and the boys were getting Cyrus.
It was funny how things had changed so quickly in our family. Reed was now on the sidelines for a good while. Owen held Cyrus. Falcon was now alone on the sidelines because Scout was firmly velcroed to Journey now. And my little green fairy fluttered her wings at the sight but the more and more I saw them interact, the more I knew it was fate.
Scout spent the night with us that night but had the worst time getting to sleep—she was so excited to have a girls’ day. Finally, sometime after ten she finally passed out and Mad carried her to her bed.
I showered and poured myself into bed. Tomorrow would be a blast.
Maddox clasped my hips and dragged my much smaller form into the shadow of his, “When are we gonna make one of those?”
“One of what,” I asked.
“A little brown eyed beauty of our own,” how he managed to speak and bite my earlobe at the same time baffled me, but I wasn’t complaining one bit.
“As soon as we know Simon’s gone.”
“I’ll never let him hurt you again,” he engulfed me in his arms.
“I know.”
Chapter 20
Journey
He looked at me like I kept the planets in orbit.
I woke up on Sunday with two legs, not one all sexy like, but two huge legs pinning my own legs to the mattress. And he was snoring—no, not snoring, just heavy breathing. He’d been exhausted when he came in the night before. He barely showered and downed a couple of blue pills before he was out cold.
I wriggled from his cage and turned on the shower. I had to be quick. Storey was coming to pick me up in an hour for our girls’ day. And I was excited to spend the day with the women who helped Nixon all these years—and Scout away from school.
I combed out my hair and in the mirror saw a now awake Nixon, and he was getting an eye full. I turned around and attempted my best evil eye, “What are you looking at?”
“It’s difficult.”
“What’s difficult—looking at me? I can shut the door if you can’t stand to look at me, jeez.”
“You know that’s not what I mean. It’s difficult to look at you and not imagine your tattoo. It’s mesmerizing.”
“You just want me to show it to you again—stop lying.”
“Well, that’s true.”
“Anyway, you need to get out of here.”
He gave me that look, “Why?”
“Because Storey and your daughter will be here in about a half an hour and I’m not sure we’re ready to talk to Scout about grown-up sleep overs.”
“Well th
en you’d better get over here and tell me goodbye.”
“Fine, but you have to make it slow and sappy.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
I reached behind the bathroom door, grabbed a robe and slid out of view to put it on. I walked over to the bed, turning red from head to toe.
“Where should I start,” he sat up in bed.
“My lips,” I playfully asked.
“No, I think I should start with you at my apartment door in the rain,” his thumb blazed a path along my jaw, “I’d put aside my love for you so long that when you showed up, it buried me. It doesn’t matter in what stage of our lives we’re in; I will love you in every one.”
I couldn’t speak. He always made me melt. And since he was so hell bent on speaking, I decided to act. I took off his glasses and told him I loved him with no words.
I let him feel all those years of holding back my feelings, all the times he’d said he loved me in his sleep, the way my entire body tingled when he’d looked at me naked.
He pulled away, panting, “Wow, where’d that come from?”
“What?” I pretended innocence, “I was just telling you goodbye.”
Nixon ran his hands the length of my back making me want to do anything but leave the bed, “I don’t wanna go. It’s getting harder and harder to leave you.”
“One day you won’t have to,” my chin quivered, so scared of proposing so much, too soon.
He noticed my chin and slowed it with his warm lips and calming me in the process. Hands roamed my hips and then kneaded my thighs, “Can we make it soon?”
“How soon,” I really didn’t expect a date; I was just egging him on.
“As quickly as I can get through all of this Brandy mess and buy you a ring.” All of these words were spoken against my neck and now the zoo was the last thing on my mind. But as I noticed the time, it became the first.
“Nixon, they’re gonna be here in ten minutes. You’re still in your boxers and I’m practically naked.”
He gave me that look, “That’ probably not the best way to get me out of here.”
“I’m going to get dressed, don’t leave without kissing me.”