Free at last - Box Set

by Annie Stone

  The idea that he’s blocked me completely is the worst. That he doesn’t care what I’m writing to him. I’ve written to him a thousand times, telling him I’m pregnant, and I’ve left messages on his voicemail. He doesn’t know, right? He hasn’t listened to them or read my emails. But what if… What if he does know and it’s just that he doesn’t care? Does he care so little about me that he doesn’t even love this baby?

  These thoughts are killing me slowly. They penetrate every last corner of my mind, pushing aside any rational thoughts that may have been there before. My mind is entirely populated with madness. This must be what going crazy feels like…

  But before I can get to that point, I put my hands on my stomach and imagine I can feel my baby, and everything gets better. Much better. If your daddy doesn’t want you, I’ll want you twice as much, I think, wishing I could plant a kiss on my own belly.

  My pregnancy is driving me crazy, but it also keeps me from going completely off the rocker.

  After I realized I couldn’t live with Shane forever, I went to look for an apartment. When I found one and showed it to Carey, he rigorously rejected the idea of it. Instead, he suggested we get an apartment together, so we can split the rent. After all, he got access to his trust fund when he turned eighteen. I don’t like the idea of living off Carter’s money, but Carey is right—we can’t live in an area where I can’t go out on my own at night. So we moved to South Park, a pretty nice area that’s not super expensive—though not cheap, either.

  I’m sitting on the couch one day, eating ice cream, when, suddenly, my phone blinks. My heart beats a mad tattoo. This can only be Hunter! With sweaty fingers, I push the green button.

  “Hello?”

  “Mac?”

  “Hunter!” I yell and immediately start crying. I’m sobbing so loudly I’m afraid our neighbors are going to be at my door any second.

  “Mac, don’t cry. Come on. Don’t cry,” he says, sounding helpless.

  But I can’t stop. I thought I would never hear from him again.

  “Hunter,” I sob again.

  “Don’t cry, Mac,” he repeats.

  I nod, trying to regain my composure, but I guess I can forget about that right now. I don’t think I’m ever going to stop crying.

  “Mac, I’m calling because I need to tell you something. Are you listening? Can you hear me?”

  “Yes,” I say quietly, trying to suppress the sobs.

  “I forgive you,” he says. “Life is too short for hatred and anger. I forgive you, do you hear me? I want you to be happy, to be with the man who makes you happy. I’m sorry it’s not me. I will never stop loving you, Mac, but I can no longer wait for you. Okay? I forgive you, but I need to move on. I’ve been on standby for four years because I kept hoping you would choose me. But…I can’t do this anymore, Mac. It’s killing me.”

  “Hunter,” I whisper, terrified because I realize his monologue is heading in the completely wrong direction.

  “You can’t help the way you feel, Mac. I understand. I really do. If you’re happy with Dad, then I’m going to accept that. But please respect that I can’t stand by and watch. Okay, Mac? I love you, but it breaks my heart knowing you don’t love me back. I can’t do this anymore, you understand?”

  “No, Hunter, no—”

  “I need to go, Mac. I’m sorry about how things turned out. Please be happy. Do it for me. I love you. But we’re not going to see each other again. Goodbye, love of my life.”

  Beep beep beep.

  “Hunter! Hunter! HUNTER! No! I love you! I choose you! You make me happy! Only you!” I scream into the phone like he can hear me thousands of miles away in Afghanistan.

  When I realize what I’m doing, I throw my phone against the wall and watch it smash into a thousand pieces, then I roll up on the couch to cry bitterly. I put my arms around myself, protectively, like they’re his. A torrential flood streams down my cheeks. It hurts so much. I thought the worst part was over, but this is worse. It’s taken any remaining shred of hope out of me.

  Carey finds me in this position hours later.

  “Mac, what’s going on?” Looking worried, he pulls me into his arms.

  “Hunter…”

  “What about him?” he asks, alarmed.

  “He called,” I whisper, hoarse from crying.

  “And?”

  “He never wants to see me again.” I start crying again. “Oh, God!”

  Carey wraps his arms around me. “Did you tell him you’re pregnant?”

  “He didn’t let me say a word!” I wail.

  Carey nods and kisses my head. “Once he knows you’re expecting his baby, he’ll change his mind.”

  I shake my head resolutely. “No, no! I don’t want him to take me back just because I’m pregnant!”

  “Mac, he’s the father. He has the right—”

  “No way!” I snap. “If he doesn’t want me, he doesn’t deserve this child, either!”

  “Mac—”

  “No!”

  Carey holds my face between his hands. “He is my brother, Mac. I can’t keep this from him.”

  I look at him firmly. “If you tell him, I’m leaving. I’m running away! And you will never find me. You won’t be able to trace me, not through my ID, not through my credit card. It’ll be like I never even existed.”

  “Mac—”

  “No, Carey! I’m serious.”

  “Don’t be like this!”

  “I’m not being like anything. I don’t want Hunter being with me because I’m pregnant. If he takes me back, okay, I’ll tell him, but not before he makes his decision.”

  “Mac—”

  “Carey, I’m pregnant. This much agitation is bad for the baby.”

  He sighs dramatically. He knows I just pulled out an irrefutable argument. “I think that’s a really horrible idea, Mac.”

  “But you’ll do what I say?”

  “I’m not going to lie to him. If he asks me, I’m going to tell him you’re pregnant. But I won’t bring it up.”

  “Promise?”

  “Promise.” He gives me an annoyed look, but I put my arms around him.

  “Thank you, Carey.”

  “I really don’t like what you’re doing.”

  “That’s okay.”

  He kisses my head before getting up from the couch. “You’ve got three minutes to get ready to go out.”

  “Carey—”

  “Get ready, doll. End of discussion.”

  Grumbling to myself, I go to the bathroom to wash my face and put on some makeup. Then I put on a top that’s not soaked through with tears. “Where are we going?” I ask, returning to the living room.

  “That little restaurant you like in La Jolla.”

  “Okay,” I say despondently. Not even that can cheer me up.

  He drives us to the little neighborhood by the coast that I love so much. I’ve always imagined I’d be living here one day. And over the past few months, I’ve imagined living here with Hunter. I shake my head, trying to chase the sad thoughts away, but I can’t. Again and again, I tell myself that it’s not good for the baby if I’m so upset all the time. This baby will surely be born depressed, considering all the tears I’ve shed in its first weeks of life.

  When we’re seated on the beautiful terrace, I order a burger, extra well done, with cheddar instead of goat’s cheese, even though I love goat’s cheese.

  “You’re such a good mommy already,” Carey teases.

  I shrug. “Just making sure Hunter can’t blame me for causing toxoplasmosis to our baby.” And just like that, I start crying again. God. In public. At an upscale restaurant, of all places.

  “Mac, Hunter’s not going to blame you for anything. He’ll just be happy to be a dad.”

  “Remember what you promised me!” I wail through my tears.

  He snorts. “You are so crazy it’s not even funny anymore.”

  Even more tears stream from my eyes. “Don’t talk to me like that. I’m pregn
ant.”

  “You’re a crybaby.”

  “I know.”

  He grabs my hand. “Mac, you’re going to be a great mom, but at the moment, you’re a little annoying. Which is the reason the father should be there when his woman is pregnant. After all, he caused this condition. He should be getting all the craziness associated with it, not some poor uncle who has nothing to do with it.”

  “Very funny. Sounds like you don’t want me to stop crying.”

  He grins. “I do want you to stop crying. In fact, it’s my greatest wish at the present moment.”

  “I can’t stand you.”

  “Liar.” He takes a sip of his Coke. Poor kid. He’s only nineteen, and he’s dealing with all this. For some reason, the thought stuns me. Nineteen. He seems so much older! Oh my God! What have I done to him over the past few months? Not only have I been a wreck—forcing him to take care of me—we’re going to add a baby to the mix. And now I’m asking him to hide important information from his brother—his best friend. I’m such a cow! How could I do this to him? I want him to enjoy his life, be young and carefree, not let himself get dragged down by my problems.

  “Mac? What’s wrong?”

  “I-I’m s-so sorry, Carey!” I stutter, crying even harder.

  “What? You’re scaring me.”

  Slowly, I pull myself together. I’m the grown up here. He needs to be able to rely on me, not the other way around! “I relieve you of our agreement, Carey,” I say quietly. “I know I’ve been…a little out of it. But you’re right. You can’t keep this from Hunter. I’m sorry I asked you to. Please forgive me.”

  “Mac…”

  “Can you forgive me?”

  “For anything, doll, you know that. I love you more than PB&J sandwiches.”

  I grin and wipe my tears away. “Thanks.”

  His charm works. At least a little. And now that I’ve shifted my focus to not ruining Carey’s life, I can push my pain aside and be there for him. For the first time, I remember that he’s lost a brother. After all, Hunter’s been shutting him out these past few months, too. All because of me. And yet, Carey’s not mad at me. No, he’s affectionate as ever, even when I’ve wrecked his family. He has no relationship with his brother, none with his mother, and a bad one with his father since he can’t forgive him for hitting me.

  I’m so goddamn selfish. No longer. From now on, I’ll take care of him like I should.

  Being pregnant is the best and the worst thing that’s ever happened to me. On the plus side, I always have an excuse for being too fat. That’s a great bonus—the greatest bonus! And somehow, I feel more in tune with nature. And I also like that a part of Hunter is here with me, and that the three of us—Hunter, Carey, and I—are truly related now.

  But I hate that the baby is always pressing down on my bladder, and I swear I have to pee every five minutes. I also can’t stand the idea that my majestic stride has been replaced with an undignified waddle. And I really hate that the pitch of my voice changes every hour or so. In a single day, I can be angry, happy, sad, lethargic, full of energy, laughing, and crying, in unparalleled proportions. Not to mention everything makes me cry.

  A YouTube video of little ducklings following their mom? I’m crying my eyes out. The fact that Serena Williams could not defend her title at the U.S. Open? Heart-wrenching. Waterfalls spring forth from my eyes—and I don’t even watch tennis. A thank you from Shane? I could turn the Sahara into fertile soil with my tears.

  But apart from that, I’ve made some other discoveries, too. Like the fact that cucumber with peanut butter tastes really good—but it has to be crunchy peanut butter. It’s all been worth it just for that revelation.

  I still don’t know whether it’s a boy or a girl. And I don’t know what I’d prefer, either. Well, yes, I do… A girl. But only because I think Hunter would be the perfect daddy for a girl. He could kill anybody who broke her heart.

  Please excuse my aggressive self. It must be the hormones.

  Another thing I’ve noticed is that the nesting thing is no exaggeration. I’d decorate a whole house if I could. But as it is, Carey stops me when the baby’s room is so full you can hardly turn around in it. He makes me take back half the stuff I’ve bought, which, once again, makes me cry bitterly. But since this isn’t the first time Carey’s been accosted by my tears, he insists. Damn him.

  I’ve decided not to change anything about my work situation until I have the baby. Afterwards, I’ll need to rethink things. Including my hours. I won’t be able to keep working evenings and weekends like I have been. I think working full time for Shane again is better for me. I wonder whether he would take me back.

  Even though I know he would take me back, any time I even think that he might not, I start crying. I think it’s about time for this baby to be born.

  Once again, the thought goes through my head: Poor Carey. But he’s taking it like a champ. My nocturnal binge-eating has forced him to run to the convenience store—again—and buy every bit of junk food they have in stock.

  Not to mention my irritability due to the baby punching my stomach or kicking my bladder. Or because of the ridiculous width of my ankles, which, by the way, I can’t even see anymore. Or because my belly is too big even for the most generous maternity wear and all I can wear is sweatpants. And flip-flops, because I can no longer tie my shoes. Or because my breasts are now a cup Z, a true marvel of nature that makes me look cartoonish.

  Oh, and he’s dealing great with my crying fits, in which I curse Hunter and Carey and the baby, and life itself, and the state of California, God, and President Obama.

  And my angry fits about how my situation sucks, I look horrible, and Hunter is an asshole for abandoning me.

  And now I have to do pregnancy exercises on top of it all.

  Carey is my hero. My absolute hero.

  He sits behind me through the classes, stoically taking it all and massaging my back when he’s supposed to, doing every single exercise with me, learning to breathe through the contractions with me. Here he is, only nineteen, and I can rely on him one hundred percent. His fuck-buddies don’t like our relationship, but I know I’m nothing but a big sister to Carey. He’s here for me, of course, because he is my best friend, my little brother who I love more than anything—in a purely platonic sense—but I know he’s also here for Hunter. Because he knows his brother would want him to do this for him. God, the girl who eventually snatches up Carey is going to be the happiest woman on earth. I’m experiencing firsthand how Carey will do anything for love.

  Obviously, with that thought, I’m crying again.

  Carey squeezes my hand, stroking my fingers. “What’s up, doll?”

  “You’re so sweet,” I wail, which makes him smile.

  “That’s why you’re crying?”

  “Yes. I don’t know what I would do without you. You’re going to be a great dad one day. You’d do anything for the people you love. Anything.”

  “You would, too.”

  “No,” I sob. “I wouldn’t.”

  “Well, you’re probably never going to be a great dad, but you’d do anything for those you love, doll. Even for those you don’t love.”

  “What do you mean?” I ask, trying to wipe away all those silly tears.

  “Remember when we first met? I was such a jerk, and you still didn’t give up on me. You always made me feel like you cared about me.”

  “I do.”

  “And I care about you.”

  Which makes me cry again, because I don’t deserve this. I’m worthless and useless, and nobody loves me…

  “Doll…” He pulls me into his arms. “It’s time for those raging hormones to give it a rest, huh?”

  “Do you think I’m crazy?” My sobs increase in volume.

  “I didn’t say that.”

  “Oh, so I’m just imagining things, am I?” I try to break away from him, but he’s holding me tight.

  “I love you, doll.”

  And then I
sob some more. Until: “Ouch!”

  “Is she kicking?” Carey asks. Finally the baby revealed it’s gender and I couldn’t be happier.

  I nod, grab his hand, and put it on my belly. Immediately, I see awe on his face.

  “Wow!” he breathes. “Oh my God, doll! That’s the best feeling in the world!”

  “Isn’t it?” I smile, all sadness forgotten. My baby makes me happy. So indescribably happy.

  When she kicks again, Carey smiles bigger. “She’s going to be a soccer player!”

  “I’m so happy,” I say quietly, grinning at him.

  He kisses me on the forehead, wise enough not to point out that not even ten minutes ago I was in the middle of a deep depression. “I know. Me too.”

  Buying baby clothes with Carey is funny. For several reasons, the first being that he is funny. But also because of the reactions he gets from the women working at the stores. They all follow him with their eyes, giving him longing looks and almost tripping over their own feet in an effort to be near him that much sooner.

  Obviously, stores selling baby goods are the best places to meet women. Not that Carey would need any help with that… I know because…well, his room isn’t all that far from mine. Sound carries. That’s all I’m going to say about that.

  “Oh, yes,” a salesgirl says enthusiastically. “You should definitely get a sling so the baby is always near your heart. Oh, and here’s my number, in case you ever need to get out of the house…” Okay, nobody has said that to him yet, but judging from the way they’ve all looked at him, they might as well have. So many women have handed over their numbers over the last few weeks. Who would have thought a future dad—and he isn’t even a future dad—could be such an aphrodisiac?

  “Should we get this blanket, too, doll?” He holds up a lilac blanket that looks so fluffy I want to cuddle it and make it my own comfort blanket right now.