Love, Always

by Yessi Smith

  “It’ll get better,” I tell him, even though I don’t believe it. My world will never be better. This is the life destiny has forged out for me, but there’s no reason the people around me should suffer because of it.

  “You’ll let me be a part of the baby’s life?”

  “Of course, Adam. I can’t believe you’d even think otherwise.”

  Uncertainty shines in his eyes, and although I don’t want to, I feel myself grow annoyed with this conversation. “Can I be the dad?” I stare at him, unable to blink my eyes or digest his words. “Dr. Armas already thinks I’m the dad, and we’d just sign my name on the birth certificate,” he rushes on. “Josh was my best friend. I don’t want your baby to grow up without a dad.”

  “And as his best friend, you’re just stepping up to the plate?” I’m angry with him for wanting to take Josh’s baby away from him.

  “Josh loved you, Dee. He wanted you and that baby to have a family.”

  “To not be broken,” I suggest, and he agrees. But we’re already a broken family. “What about the band?”

  “They don’t mean half as much to me as you and that baby do.” He’s so uncompromisingly sweet, always thinking of others and putting himself last.

  “You and Josh were so happy with the upcoming tour. You’ve been working so hard for so many years, and things are finally happening,” I repeat the words Josh told me hours before he ceased to be. Things were finally happening and just because my world stopped doesn’t mean everyone else’s needs to. “Go after your dreams, Adam. The baby and I will be here waiting for you.”

  “You won’t go with us?” he asks, already knowing the answer.

  “No, Adam, I can’t. But, yeah, I want you to be the baby’s dad,” I add, and he hugs me, both of us holding on to each other as if we are the other’s salvation. Maybe the baby will be his salvation. At least one of us has some sort of hope for the future.

  I walk towards the books Adam has been buying for the baby and try to regroup my thoughts so that I can pull them away from the negativity tugging at my heart strings. All is not lost, I remind myself, but only a small part of me actually believes it to be true. I pick up some Dr. Seuss books and sit on the floor as I skim through them. Adam goes back to building the crib and sings softly to himself as he works.

  We look normal. Just like expectant parents. We could probably fool anyone who walked in on us into believing we are normal.

  As I indulge in the simplicity of children’s stories and rhymes, I feel Adam kneel down beside me and he hands me his phone after hitting play. I look at the screen and feel my lips tug when I see his face flash onto the screen.

  “This is for you, Dee,” Adam says from the phone, so I look back at him and he grins, and I turn my attention back to the phone.

  I watch him walk through the grocery store and he only stops when he finds a young male associate. Poor kid is probably in his late teens and has no idea what Adam is up to. I have no idea what Adam is up to either, but I feel for the kid because Adam can be downright devious.

  “Excuse me,” Adam calls out, and the boy turns his attention to Adam. “Do you know where I can find nipple butter?”

  The camera shakes a little, but I see the boy look around. “What kind of butter?”

  “Nipple butter.”

  The boy laughs. “Say that again.”

  “Nipple butter.” The camera shifts and I see a blurry Adam run his finger in circles over his nipples. “You know, for your nipples.”

  The boy laughs again and I feel my body shake in laughter as well. “For your nipples?”

  “Well, not mine.” I look back at Adam and find him watching me. He’s so sweet and cute.

  “I don’t know what nipple butter is, man.” The boy looks around the store, but I can see he’s laughing.

  “Can you find out?” Adam asks, leaving no room for him to say no.

  “Uh, yeah.”

  I lean my body against Adam and chuckle as the camera follows Adam’s paces as he stalks the aisle. After a long time, the boy returns and shows Adam where to find it.

  I see Adam’s hand hold up the cream and wiggle it in front of the camera. “My nipples thank you.”

  I lose it. I very literally lose it as I start to shake from laughter. I feel Adam laugh with me, and for just a moment I forget that I’m sad.

  It’s a girl. I’m having a girl. I sigh in relief that I won’t be having a boy, a miniature Josh to mock me and the life I was robbed of. It’s been one hundred and four days since I lost Josh, and still I feel drained of any emotions but grief. But I hide it well enough that Adam rarely notices anymore. He thinks I’m doing better and will be leaving on tour in three days. Three days and I’ll be left to fend for myself. If I’m perfectly honest, I’m terrified. I’m scared I’ll go back to my dungeon and not come out to eat or bathe if he’s not there to help me. And I can’t lose Josh’s baby, Adam’s baby. I can’t bare another crucifix.

  I’m no longer riddled with feelings of guilt. Josh tried to save me and our baby. It was his last declaration of love. When our daughter is old enough, I’ll tell her how much her daddy loved her without even laying his eyes on her.

  Adam and I leave the doctor’s office after my scheduled five month prenatal visit and go straight to the store to pick out baby clothes, and I laugh at the amount of pink he is throwing into our shopping cart. I say laugh, but it’s not a real laugh, just a mirror of what I remember my laugh used to be. My laughter makes Adam happy, and since we’re playing at being a happy family, I figure I’ll help keep the illusion alive in his mind.

  “Less pink,” I tease him.

  “She’s gonna come out looking like an alien. The least we can do is help her look like a girl.”

  “Girls wear blue too.” I pick up a blue onesie and toss it in the cart after I stick my tongue out at him. I’ve gotten so good at pretending, I actually have moments of actual joy. This is one of those rare moments.

  Adam grabs one of the maternity popsicles and puts it in his mouth. He’s such a dork.

  “More diapers?” I ask.

  “We already have five boxes. How many do we need?”

  “A lot. Babies crap a lot.”

  “That’s your department, sweetie.”

  “Like hell it is.”

  “I am not going near my daughter’s…” he looks around as he turns red in the face, “private area,” he whispers.

  I laugh louder than necessary as I try to ignore the internal battle building inside of me at him calling the baby his daughter. She is his. We agreed, but it doesn’t lessen the blow each time he says it.

  “You’re cleaning the dirty diapers, Adam.” I take his popsicle away from him and suck on it in the hopes the nausea his words have caused will subside.

  “You alright, sweetie?” Have I mentioned how amazing Adam is? He pampers me with spa days and prenatal massages. He makes sure I eat and eat well. He goes to all my doctor visits. He rubs my feet and holds my hair back when I get sick. There’s no logical reason for me to feel anything but joy at him wanting to be my baby’s dad, but emotions are rarely ever logical.

  “Just hungry,” I lie.

  “Let’s pay and I’ll grill us up some chicken and asparagus when we get home.”

  “What if we just grabbed pizza on the way home?” I ask, and he lifts his eyebrows. Why he would choose to go on a health streak while I’m pregnant is beyond me. “Pizza it is,” I determine and he laughs. ”And soda.”

  Back home, Adam puts the baby’s clothes into the wash as I take our pizza and plates to the couch. I grab the bag Adam left behind to see what book Adam bought this time. I flip through the pages, holding onto my tears as I read The Giving Tree. That’s Adam; he’s my Giving Tree. And what have I given him?

  I go to my bedroom and rummage through my drawers until I find my ultrasound pictures. I take out the frame my parents sent me from London and quickly scribble Keep us with you. We love you, daddy on the back of the pic
ture before putting it in the frame. I don’t have much left in me to give him and hope this is enough.

  While Adam washes his hands in the kitchen, I sneak into his room and put the frame in the duffel bag he is traveling with. Pleased with my small token, I go back to the couch where we eat our pizza.

  “Good choice.” I wink at him.

  “Funny. I want you to keep a food diary when I’m gone and email it to me every day so I can make sure you’re eating right.”

  “You’re insane,” I snort.

  “I’m serious.”

  “Negative.”

  “Negative?”

  “Ain’t gonna happen.” I put my plate on the coffee table and pick up The Giving Tree.

  “I loved that book when I was little,” he tells me.

  Figures.

  He takes it from me after he places his plate on the coffee table. With his hands running circles on my stomach, he begins to read the sweetest children’s book I’ve ever heard. The Giving Tree; that’s how parents are supposed to be. They should give, without needing to receive. I hope I can do that for Josh’s baby girl.

  Adam

  I hated leaving Dee, but the truth is I needed the space. I’d do anything for Dee. I’d drape myself in her angst just to alleviate hers. I’d trade places with Josh and bury myself in the ground so she’d never cry a single tear for him again. I’d give up the band and everything I’ve worked towards just to take care of her.

  I love Dee, and that is where my biggest problem lies. I love her. I’ve always loved her. And now, like some sick twisted fantasy, I have her, but I don’t.

  In one moment in a lifetime of moments, I lost my best friend and brother. I lost the biggest part of who I was and why I started Wasted Circle. In that same moment, I got the only woman I’ve ever cared for and my best friend’s baby. I found a reason to move forward. To move past the wrongs I’ve committed and start anew.

  I promised Josh I’d watch over them and I’m trying, but I’ll be damned if it isn’t hard. The more time I spend with Dee, the more my desperation for her grows. The more she grieves for Josh, the more certain I become of my own self-worth. My presence doesn’t diminish her pain, but is a constant reminder of all that she has lost.

  Just as I am a reminder to my own mom of all that she lost.

  Six years old

  I fall back to sleep with the nice lady humming softly beside me, but later wake up alone. I wonder if Tommy’s here yet. I crawl off the bed carefully so I don’t hurt where the needle is and tiptoe over the cold floor until I’m standing in front of a long desk.

  “What are you doing out of bed, mister?” one of the nurses behind the desk asks me when she sees me.

  “I want to meet my little brother,” I tell her, my heart skipping with excitement.

  “Oh, sweetie.” Her eyes fill with tears, and I don’t know why she’s so sad. “Your mom’s resting right now, but you can see her tomorrow.” She wipes at her tears and smiles at me, so I try to smile back at her.

  “And my dad?” I ask, the nightmare from a few hours repeating in my head.

  The nurse turns away from me to wipe away more tears, so I go to her and crawl on her lap so I can take her tears away the same way Mom takes away my tears.

  My days consist of cleaning the condo until every surface sparkles, taking short walks around the block, cooking well-balanced Adam-approved meals, and skyping with Adam when he’s away. I don’t allow myself to step foot in my room until ten PM, because I know if I go in, I’ll crawl into bed and not want to come back out.

  My body hurts all the time, my head spins with migraines that leave me exhausted, but I rarely sleep anymore. I spend most nights staring at the back of my eyelids, wishing for sleep. Every day is a struggle, and I’m not sure if it’s the pregnancy or the depression that’s keeping me hostage this time. I’m seven months pregnant, so it could very well be the pregnancy and the hormones that come along with it. Then again, it’s been one hundred and sixty-six days since I last saw or spoke to Josh, so maybe...

  The only time I feel relatively normal is when Adam comes home. It must be exhausting for him, but he usually comes home for a couple days a week as the band travels to their next stop, and then he’ll fly back to do their show. He looks tired when he gets here, no longer the happy image on the computer screen I skype with, and often spends his time at home sleeping. I know I’m selfish. I know I should tell him not to worry about me. I know this, but I don’t because I need him. He and pain are my only constants.

  Instead of partying with his band, he’s coming home for his twenty-first birthday, so I’ve decided to surprise him with his favorite meal. After a quick phone call with his mom who offered to help me cook, but settled on giving me clear directions and joining us for dinner, I go to the store to buy everything. Because I’m pregnant and should indulge in my cravings, I pick up a pack of chocolate cookies and head to the register after I grab everything I need. Once at the checkout lane, I spot a popular magazine declaring Adam as one of the sexiest men in the world. I smile back at the picture of him as I pick it up and pay for it so I can read it at home. Josh would have crapped himself at the sight of Adam on the cover of a magazine.

  With Adam’s stew boiling, I settle on my couch and stretch my aching back before I read the article about Adam. He looks cocky, arrogant, not at all like the Adam I know. I giggle at the list of models he has supposedly dated, but grow sober when I get to the part about Josh.

  My world stopped. We’d been friends since elementary, and if anything, he was more like my brother. This was our dream. Music was our common ground. I wasn’t sure I wanted music in my life after he died, but I owe it to him to try.

  It’s good gettin’ back into it. It’s right, you know? Music’s in my soul. I’m nothing without it. But still, sometimes it feels like I’m going through the motions without feeling the emotions. Does that make sense? (laughs)

  Going through the motions, without feeling the emotions. Yeah, Adam, that makes perfect sense. I’ve been so self-absorbed in my own pain I haven’t once thought about what Adam is going through. I’ve seen the traces of his sadness, but never the extent of his pain. Desperate for air, I open the balcony doors and crumble onto the floor in sobs. He’s been there for me, picking me up and nurturing me while his own needs went unattended.

  I don’t hear Adam when he walks through the front door, but know the exact moment he is behind me. He kneels down beside me and holds me as my body trembles with each agonizing sob.

  I turn around to hug him to me, but stop short when I see a group of ten or fifteen people behind him in our living room. They are holding pink balloons and presents wrapped in pink wrapping paper, but are trying to look at anything and anyone but me.

  With Adam’s hand in mine, I stand up slowly, wiping the snot dripping down my nose with the back my sleeve. I can’t believe it. On his birthday, Adam has decided to throw me a baby shower.

  “Surprise?” he says sheepishly, and I force a laugh that probably makes me sound maniacal more than anything else. He wipes my tears away with the palm of his hand and hugs me quickly.

  “I was making you beef stew,” I tell him, just as nervous. “Your mom gave me the recipe.”

  “You’re the best, Dee.” He kisses the back of my head and I laugh again before I walk towards the group of people who have come to help me celebrate the upcoming birth of my daughter.

  “I’m pregnant,” I tell them and shrug my shoulders. “I’m supposed to be an emotional train wreck.” Thankfully, they all laugh.

  After making my rounds greeting everyone, including my parents who were kind enough to grace me with their presence, I grab the magazine from the couch and throw it in my bedroom. Adam puts his stew to simmer before handing me a plateful of Cuban pastries. I listen to Ricky, Wasted Circle’s bassist, tell the room stories of the mayhem the band has caused in their after-parties.

  “Some chick offered to pay Adam for birthday sex!” he shouts an
d sends his head back in a roar of laughter while Adam’s mom listens from beside me on the couch with disapproval etched on her face. “She was perfect, a little sex kitten with boobs that came out to here.” He motions his hands forward and we all laugh at the expression on his face. “How could you say no to that?” Ricky grabs Adam in a headlock, but Adam gets away quickly with a laugh that I know is fake.

  Just a few months on tour and is the band already experiencing some love lost? I make a mental note to ask and hope I don’t forget.

  Adam sits down next to me, and his mom and I subconsciously put my hand on his lap. Covering his hand with mine, he gives me a quick squeeze. “Big boobed sex kittens don’t mean a damn to me,” he says and I laugh. Big boobed sex kittens should mean a lot more than a damn to a single man who, from what I know of, hasn’t had sex in a damn while.

  Knowing Adam will throw away all the unhealthy, fattening deliciousness after the party, I fill my stomach with the additive and preservative ridden food until the skin around my stomach tightens and I feel sick. Mission accomplished, I sigh as I rub my belly. I manage to fill my stomach even further with chocolate cake and savor the mousse inside as I lick my fork clean. I settle back on the couch after hugging his mom goodbye. Everyone else follows suit and starts to leave, and I don’t even mind when they bypass me, only saying goodbye to Adam. Sadly, my parents don’t take the hint and sit next to me on my couch. I try to smile at them, but there’s really no point. They’ll wind up making me angry in

  5

  4

  “You look dreadful,” my mom tells me.

  “Thanks, mom. I’m told I look just like you.”

  3

  “Don’t you sass me,” she accuses me, and I roll my eyes at her.

  “Yeah, whatever.”

  “Treat your mother with some respect. It was her idea to buy you this condo.”