by Nicole Bross
“What’s she done now?” Kellen asks when he comes up to my suite after the pub shuts down, mistaking the angry look on my face as being directed at Cora.
“We fucked up,” I tell him. There’s no sense in trying to hide anything from him. “I’m pregnant. I think it was the time on the beach. The night Marnie died.” It’s the only time I can’t recall with one hundred percent certainty that we used a condom. “It’s all fine though,” I reassure him. He’s as still as I’ve ever seen him, shocked speechless. I know the feeling—I was living it a few hours earlier when I saw the positive result come up on the digital screen of the pregnancy test. “I made an appointment with a doctor in Portland. I need a prescription and the whole thing will be taken care of. Really, no big deal. I caught it early enough that I don’t need to have the…more invasive procedure.”
“Wait. An abortion?” He sinks onto the couch and rubs his face with his hand.
“Well, yeah.” I stare at him, perplexed. “What else would I do?”
“I don’t know. We haven’t even talked about it.”
“There aren’t any other options, Kellen. There’s nothing to talk about. I don’t want children. I really don’t want one right now. And while we’re getting along pretty well, we’ve only known each other about a month. We have no business having a kid together, even if I did want to be a mother. Which I don’t.”
“Not ever?”
“No.” The word hangs heavily between us.
“How can you be sure?” he asks finally.
“How can you be sure you’re straight?” I counter. “I just know it. Parenthood is not for me. I wouldn’t…I wouldn’t be good at it.”
“You can’t decide not to have kids because you had shitty parents growing up.”
“We are not having this conversation right now and stop trying to change the subject. I can’t believe you’re even considering going through with this. Are you serious?”
“I would if you wanted to. I think we could make it work.” He gives me a hopeful smile, but I turn away. What he’s suggesting is preposterous for so many reasons.
“Well, I don’t. I can’t think of anything that would make me more miserable.” He tries to hide it, but I can tell my words have hurt him deeply by the way his body goes perfectly rigid and he stares past me. “Not because it’s with you,” I add in a softer tone. “It’s something I’ve never wanted.”
“I understand.” His voice isn’t quite cold, but it’s certainly not the same as the way I’m used to him speaking when we’re alone together.
“Look, I get it if this is a deal-breaker for you. You shouldn’t waste your time with me if I’m never going to give you the life you’ve envisioned for yourself.” The possibility that Kellen would want to have kids with me someday has literally never occurred to me until this conversation started going so dreadfully sideways, and my voice trembles. The fact that what I thought was a frustrating, but solvable mistake might mean the end of our budding relationship leaves me almost breathless. The heartburn flares in my chest, and I pop another Zantac, leaning against a bookshelf for support. I wait for him to tell me that of course, it’s not a deal-breaker, and we’ll figure this out together, but that doesn’t come.
“I don’t know,” he says instead, and I break out into a cold sweat at what might come out of his mouth next. “I need to think about it. I need some time.”
“Of course.” I swallow hard. He can’t force me to have a baby with him; I can’t force him to stay in a relationship with me if I don’t. Quid pro quo.
Probably for the best you figure this all out now. You should have known it was too good to be true. That cruel little voice in the back of my head rears its ugly head. It’s been virtually silent these past couple weeks, but time and disuse haven’t made it any less savage.
“When’s your appointment?” he asks. “I’ll drive you.”
“It’s on Thursday. I can get there myself. I’d rather go alone.” The gulf widens between us as the silence lengthens. “I need to go to sleep,” I say finally. What I want is to ask him to stay, to hold me through the night, make me feel safe and wanted, but I’m afraid I won’t be able to handle the rejection if he says he’d rather not. He moves mechanically toward the door, and I start stacking the couch cushions on the floor so I can pull out the bed, grieving the fact that he didn’t offer to stay either. He said he needed space, and there isn’t much space between two bodies curled up in bed together, each mourning an idea they didn’t even know they’d have to face twelve hours ago.
“Audrey, wait,” he says as I turn to go into the bathroom, holding the tears back by a sheer force of will I know I won’t be able to maintain for much longer. He pulls me toward him and bows to press his forehead against mine. The vision he gives me is one of deep sadness, when the young man who lost his wife in childbirth says a final goodbye to her at her funeral. Is he saying goodbye to me now? I choke back a sob and run my fingers up his neck to twine into his hair. When we first met it was cut close, but it’s grown out enough now that I can weave my fingers into it, something I love to do when he kisses me or when his body is stretched out on top of mine, moving deep inside me.
“It’s going to be okay, all right?” he says, but I’m not sure. No matter what happens from this point forward, I can’t help but feel there’s something we can never get back.
***
Tuesday and Wednesday each go by so slowly that I’m an anxious mess by nightfall, flitting back and forth between multiple tasks and distractions, none of which can hold my attention for more than a few minutes at a time. Kellen and I see each other rarely, and only under professional circumstances. Each time our eyes meet, I can see he’s searching my face to see if I’ve changed my mind before looking away, disappointed by my continued resolve. Nor do I see any indication he’s reached a point of understanding and acceptance. Yet, I keep hoping. I have to believe he will get there in his own time. If he doesn’t, I’m not sure I can find the strength to keep going with the inn and all the rest of it.
If Sheena weren’t still acting weird I would talk to her about it, but with the new distance between us, I’m no longer comfortable sharing my personal life with her. I’m struggling to hold up under the isolation of having no one to ask for support. In the past, I’ve always been able to shoulder my burdens on my own, but since coming to Soberly, I’ve had to face more new challenges than any other time in my life, and it’s started to feel almost natural to reach out to someone else to help share the load. Hoping it will help me find a solution again, I ask the Roz inside my head what I should do, but she has no answers for me this time, other than to counsel time and patience, something I’ve already figured out myself. Time and patience can’t stroke my hair when I’m crying into my pillow at night, though.
Thursday morning finally arrives, and I leave in my rental car before the sun rises so I can make it to Portland for my eight a.m. appointment. It goes by quickly; I take a pill in the office. I’m handed one more to take at home tomorrow, and almost before I know it I’m back on the highway to Soberly. I don’t hear from Kellen to see how the appointment went, and since he has the day off, I don’t see him in the pub or around the inn. Not having his support or even his company over the past few days has made me wonder whether I should have even told him about the pregnancy in the first place. If I’d just gone ahead and taken care of it without him knowing, we would have never created this rift between us. On the other hand, I think if he ever found out about it after the fact, he would never forgive me for keeping it a secret. Either way, I lose. We both do.
Friday morning, I take the second medication, and about two hours later, the cramping starts. I take the maximum allowable dose of ibuprofen and try to distract myself with work but end up curled around a hot water bottle on the couch with a mindless movie on Netflix instead.
I spend a lot of the time thinking about Kellen, and his desire for a family someday. Everything I know about him makes me certain he�
�ll be a wonderful father. He’s the right measure of easygoing and firm, warm, loving and funny. In my head, I can see him playing with his kids, being involved in their lives, listening to them, and caring about their problems. He deserves to see that dream realized, and hopefully, he will. It just won’t be with me, and the heaviness in my heart deepens at the inevitable end to our relationship. Even if we somehow manage to pull through this, and he decides to forgo fatherhood for now, at some point his need for the future he’s planned out for himself will outstrip his need for me.
By dinner time, I feel well enough to make myself a can of soup and some toast. I haven’t seen or heard from a single person all day. Do they all know? I imagine how this will further tarnish my reputation in the community. Would Kellen have told anyone? His mother, maybe? I can’t believe either of them would share such a private thing. I’m being paranoid. Everyone at the inn probably assumes I need some space and quiet to work, or I’ve taken a day off.
I spend the evening alone as well, watching more TV to pass the time, wishing I had some company.
The police sirens awaken me just after three in the morning. Disoriented, I sit up in bed, confused at why my room is full of red and blue strobing lights. Then my phone starts ringing on the table beside me, the caller ID indicating it’s a forwarded call from the inn’s main line. I answer blearily.
“This is detective Andrea Chao with the Oregon State Police. To whom am I speaking?” I give her my name, and as an afterthought, tell her I’m the owner of the inn.
“What’s going on?” I ask, walking over to the balcony. A sudden cramp almost doubles me over on the way, forcing me to hobble the last few steps. I peer down over the railing, but the lights are coming from the north side of the building, where the parking lot is, and I can’t see around the corner.
“There’s a body in your parking lot. We need to ask you some questions.” I tell her I’ll be down in two minutes, shove my feet into my Chucks, and wrap one of Roz’s shawls around my shoulders. Even though the temperature’s been reaching the low nineties each day, it’s still chilly at night, especially when the wind comes in from the sea. Going through these steps keeps me from thinking about what the detective has just said, and what—who—I know I’m going to find when I meet her. Until I can’t avoid it any longer. I choke back a hysterical giggle as the old board game Clue comes to mind.
Aaron Glass, in the parking lot. With a knife.
22
“There’s nothing to be concerned about, I apologize for the disturbance. Please stay in your rooms,” I tell the man poking his head out his door. The sirens are no longer wailing in front of the inn, but the lights are still flashing, creating a weird disco-like effect around us as the red and blue bounces off the walls through the window at the end of the hall. For a moment, I think he’s going to ignore my advice and have a look for himself, but after a moment he rubs his face, shrugs, and retreats back into his room. I breathe a sigh of relief and make my way downstairs and out the door.
“Mrs. Eames?” a tall, willowy woman leaning against one of the police cars approaches me, hand extended, and introduces herself as Detective Chao. I don’t correct the title she assigned me, but I do ask her to call me Audrey.
“You said there’s—that someone died?” I’m avoiding looking in the direction of the parking lot, but in my peripheral vision, I can see several figures milling around with flashlights, accompanied by the occasional flash of a camera.
“Yes, he was discovered by his girlfriend who went out searching for him after he didn’t come home earlier this evening. She spotted his car in your parking lot, and him shortly afterward.”
“My god, that’s horrible,” I say. My gaze strays to the parking lot against my better judgment. Most of the officers’ attention is focused on one area on the far side of a silver Honda, but one is scanning the area around it with his flashlight, and another is walking around the perimeter with yellow crime scene tape. “Who is it?” The words come out half an octave higher than my normal pitch.
Detective Chao looks over at the scene for a moment, then back at me. Maybe it’s a tourist, I hope against hope. Maybe he was drunk and hit his head. It could even be a guest, for all I know. My intuition tells me different though. “The victim has been tentatively identified as Aaron Glass, a resident here. Did you know him?” Even though I’d been expecting it, my heart stops in my chest for a moment.
“Not really at all, no. I spoke to him once briefly a few weeks ago. I’m fairly new to town. I’ve only lived here about a month,” I add.
“Do you have any security cameras out here?”
“No, we don’t.” I shake my head for emphasis. We don’t even have an alarm, although I don’t mention that. Maybe we should. My mind drifts off to my mental to-do list, adding it as another item, and for a moment I forget why I’m standing outside at three in the morning in my pajamas.
“Were you at the inn this evening?”
I nod. “I didn’t leave the premises at all today,” I say. Who uses words like premises? I sound like Miss Marple. Or somebody who rehearsed the answers to these questions ahead of time.
“Did you hear anything unusual this evening between the hours of ten and two-thirty a.m.?”
“I don’t think I was even awake then,” I tell her, trying to remember what time I turned out the light. “I don’t know exactly what time I went to bed, but it was pretty early, for me. Before eleven for sure. I…I wasn’t feeling well. I didn’t hear anything at all. I’m a sound sleeper. How did—what happened to Aaron?”
“He was stabbed.” She speaks in a short, clipped voice, confirming my fear. It’s like it was in the past. “We’ll need to interview your guests here as well to see if they heard or saw anything unusual tonight, although it doesn’t have to be at this time. Are any of these rooms occupied?” She points up to the windows which face down over the parking lot.
“None of those are rooms.” I explain that they’re located at the ends of the halls on the second and third floor. “All the guest rooms either face the beach or out into the town. Other than those, the only place you can really see the parking lot from is the pub. It closed at eleven, and I’m sure if he was out here then, someone would have seen him.”
Detective Chao scrawls a few things in a small notepad she’s holding and thanks me for my help.
“Oh, one other thing,” she says before I can make my retreat to the front step. “Do you know anything about an altercation Mr. Glass had here a couple of weeks ago? His girlfriend mentioned he got into a fight with someone else who works at your inn.” She’s watching me closely. I swallow and nod, stepping back toward her.
“Yes. He—well, it was the one time when he and I met, and he was unhappy that I was taking over ownership of the inn.” I explain as briefly as possible the circumstances that brought me to Soberly. “He didn’t believe I had the experience to keep the inn open, and that I would end up hurting the other businesses in town. Which is fine, that’s his opinion, and he’s entitled to it. Then he made a rude sexual comment toward me, and my boyfriend hit him once, in the face. Aaron said he would remember it and walked away. That was the end of it.”
“What’s your boyfriend’s name?”
“Kellen Greene. He had nothing to do with this though, I know it. He’s not a violent person. The only reason he lost his temper is because of what Aaron said to me, and Aaron’s history with women.” Stop talking, my brain screams at me. I’m giving Detective Chao all the information she needs to suspect Kellen, and she’s been jotting down everything I’m saying.
“Do you have contact info for him?” With a sinking heart, I give her both his number and address.
“Please, he didn’t do this. I know it looks suspicious, but it wasn’t him.”
“Were you with him tonight?”
“No, I was alone.”
“All right, well that’s all I need from you for now. You won’t have access to your parking lot for at least the next d
ay while we examine the scene, although if needed, we may be able to remove your guests’ vehicles. Are you able to stay close by in case I have any other questions for you?” I assure her I’m not planning on going anywhere, and step into the doorway of the pub, wrapping Roz’s shawl around my shoulders. Detective Chao ducks under the yellow tape and walks back toward the spot where Aaron’s body presumably lies, and I pull out my phone. I figure this situation is serious enough to break the ‘need for space’ rule.
“Aaron Glass was killed in the parking lot tonight” I text Kellen. “The police asked me about the fight you had” He charges his phone on his night table, so although he’s almost certainly asleep, the buzzing of the incoming message might wake him up. I clutch my phone and will him to reply. Within moments, I see the bubble with three dots pop up, indicating he’s typing something.
“Be right there.” I don’t know whether to be relieved he’s coming, or worried because he might be a suspect. Maybe he’ll be able to clear everything up right now and prove he had nothing to do with it.
He arrives twenty minutes later, on foot, and picks me out immediately even though I’m half-invisible behind one of the posts that holds up the awning above the entrance to the pub.
“I’m sorry,” I say as he approaches. I speak low so my voice doesn’t carry over to the parking lot. “They already knew about the fight.”
“I don’t care about that,” he says. “How are you?” I can’t form a reply, just shake my head. He wraps his arms around me, enveloping me with his warmth. I inhale the scent of him deeply and let myself collapse into him, finally finding the support I need. “C’mere,” he says and leads me to the edge of the small verandah. He sits on the top step and positions me on the next step down, between his legs so he can maintain our embrace. I lean back into him, wishing we could be alone, or at least that we were together under different circumstances.