Just Give Me a Reason

by Rebecca Rogers Maher

  Which is precisely what I’m supposed to be doing up here—slowing down, relaxing, taking a break. I don’t know if that’s going to be possible with Beth around.

  I figured that while I was here, she’d be a safe distance away in Poughkeepsie. We wouldn’t exactly cross paths with me hanging out at the house or taking Alice on the occasional hike. Which was for the best, considering the way my body reacts when she’s around.

  But it’s not like I can say no to her camping out here when her own house is dark and cold. Even if the thought of being in the same house with her makes it difficult to breathe.

  Last night, when she hugged me goodbye, I didn’t want to let her go. What I wanted, really, was to be a different man. The kind who wouldn’t shrink from desire that strong. The kind who would drag her out to the woods and taste her, take her.

  In that moment, when she moved into it, I considered whether she would let me. If she, in fact, wanted to do the dragging. But I had to set that aside. It’s senseless to fantasize about making love to a woman who is pregnant with another man’s child.

  Although there is no other man, is there? The biological father, Ray told me, is legally out of the picture. As a man, I have a hard time wrapping my head around that, but from the sound of it, it’s what Beth wanted.

  Not that it’s any of my business.

  The only thing that’s my business is making sure she doesn’t feel creeped out while we’re in the same house together.

  One way to achieve that is to act like a normal person and be friendly. She spent a long time yesterday doing just that, after all, and listening to me talk about work. I can reciprocate tonight. Maybe I’ll learn something interesting if I ask her about herself.

  I might get lucky, for instance, and find out she likes to boil cats for fun. Which would really help me stop wanting to fuck her so much.

  I ask Ray if she needs a ride. After a moment, he writes back and says she’s already on her way.

  I take a deep breath, grab my bag, and head into the house.

  —

  By the time Beth arrives, I’ve calmed Alice down and started a basic bolognese sauce from ingredients I found in the freezer and cupboard. It’s a recipe my dad used to make, and it has come in handy many times over the years.

  Dad taught me how to cook it when I was seven years old. He was working night shifts in construction while Mom worked days at the diner, and they’d switch time with Ray and me. Some days we had a couple hours all together to eat dinner, and Dad liked to have a meal ready for Mom when she came home. Ray was only four years old then, and as soon as Mom came to the door he’d attach himself to her hip. They played together while Dad and I made dinner.

  Afterward, I’d sit on the edge of his bed and watch him dress for work. “Remember, Tony,” he’d say, “while I’m gone, you’re the man of the house. Make sure you take care of your mama and brother, okay?” Then he’d pat my cheek and grin, the dimple showing in his stubble, and I would feel almost sick with love for him.

  A year later, a crane malfunctioned at a work site and dropped him two hundred feet to the concrete floor. It was nobody’s fault. He was gone, and I remembered my promise to him. I took care of Mom and Ray the best I could.

  I hope he’d be proud of me. I held his family together, even if I couldn’t hold my own.

  Now Mom is gone, too, and Ray is settled. The girls are with their mother, happily playing their way through every park in Brooklyn. And for one week I have no one to take care of but myself.

  I lift a spoon to my mouth and taste the sauce. Its rich, dark flavor sends a ripple of pleasure down my spine. I close my eyes, savoring it, and the doorbell rings.

  Several times.

  I go to answer, but before I can reach for the door Beth is bursting through it, laughing, wearing red rain boots and a matching slicker over plaid flannel pants, with a canvas bag slung over her shoulder.

  She drops it heavily to the ground and throws her arms wide.

  “I’m here! Aren’t you thrilled? Just what you wanted when you came upstate for a quiet getaway. A loud pregnant woman who’s soaking wet. Are you cooking something? It smells amazing.”

  And just like that, she’s all over the house—like oxygen, spilling into every corner. And I’m breathing. Breathing her in.

  She smells like rain. Her hair is damp. She shrugs out of her raincoat and hangs it on a hook by the door, and it’s all I can do to not to kiss her.

  I take a step back. “Glad you, uh…glad you made it.”

  She stops, one shoe off and one shoe on, and looks up at me. “Are you? Because I’m kind of crashing your party of one here; I realize that.”

  God, her eyes. In the dim light, they are shining. Her lips curve into a smile.

  “Crash away,” I tell her. Then I turn and head into the kitchen before I say more.

  She follows me in bare feet and climbs up onto a stool by the counter. “Are you making pasta?”

  I nod. “With sauce. You hungry?”

  She sighs happily. “How did you know?”

  “I’ve met a pregnant woman once or twice. Second trimester, right? My ex was ravenous for months.”

  “Yeah, that about sums it up. Oh, wait.”

  She ducks back out to the hallway and emerges with a square Tupperware bin. “Grabbed these on the way out. I made cookies last week and stashed some in the freezer. Of course everything in there is going to go bad now. Figured I’d rescue the good stuff.”

  I sprinkle a bit of salt into a pot of boiling water. “What kind?”

  Beth smiles. “Ginger snaps. You like those?”

  “Sure.” I grab a box of spaghetti and tip it into the pot. “I think there’s some ice cream in the freezer to go with them.”

  “Fabulous.” She stands, and I watch the way her T-shirt stretches over her breasts and belly. It’s a simple green V-neck, short-sleeved and comfortable. It highlights the delicate curve of her collarbone, her strong arms.

  She catches my eye and smiles. “Wasn’t really expecting to wear pajamas in mixed company. I just grabbed a bag in the dark and jumped in the car.”

  “Makes sense.”

  I might have planned differently, too, if I’d known she would be here. I still haven’t shaved, and my jeans and T-shirt were chosen with a long drive in mind. Not that it matters what I’m wearing.

  It occurs to me that I should start making small talk. That is what a normal person would be doing right now. But aside from the thoughts I shouldn’t be thinking, my mind is completely blank. I focus on slicing a cucumber I found at the bottom of the fridge.

  “Let me do that.” She comes around to my side of the counter, and when she takes the knife from my hand, I freeze up for a moment. Her hair is drying into thick curls that fall loosely down her back. Up this close, I can smell her shampoo.

  Jasmine, I think.

  I breathe it in and turn back to the stove.

  “Pasta’s almost ready.”

  She arranges the cucumber slices on a plate and reaches into the cabinet for glasses. Then she sets the small kitchen table while I drain the pasta, and we sit down to eat.

  “Thank you for sharing this, Tony. I wasn’t expecting dinner.” She scoops up a bit of pasta and sauce. “God, that’s delicious.”

  “Sure.” I watch her obvious pleasure and try to keep my mind on neutral topics. “You must have had a long day.”

  She nods. “You said it. Well, the day wasn’t so bad—but man, that storm. I would’ve stayed home under a blanket if it were just me, but…” She points to her belly. “You know. Holly was worried, and I figured maybe I should do the conservative thing and go somewhere warm.”

  “You don’t strike me as the conservative type,” I say, and then stop and shut my eyes for a moment. “Sorry. That came out wrong.”

  She tilts her head at me, amusement in her eyes.

  “I mean, you did the right thing coming here and everything. I just meant, you know, you don’t seem lik
e you usually take the safe route.” I pause again and look at her. She’s trying not to laugh. “I should stop talking, shouldn’t I?”

  “Probably. Although it’s kind of fun watching you try to dig your way out.”

  “Sorry,” I say again. I had no idea how bad I was at small talk.

  She spears a piece of cucumber with her fork and waves it at me amiably. “You’re right, though. Being conservative is not something I’m used to. But I’m trying to adjust with the baby on the way and all.”

  “Right.”

  “Too bad you had to get the brunt of that,” she says. “I’m sure you were looking forward to a quiet night alone.”

  “It’s okay. I didn’t really have much of a plan anyway. I just, you know…Ray talked me into taking some time off work, so…”

  “That’s good. He was right. You sounded like you needed a break.”

  “Yeah, about that.” I twist spaghetti around my fork. “Sorry I dumped it all over you yesterday. You didn’t need to hear my sob story when you barely know me.”

  “I asked,” she says.

  “Right.” I concentrate for a moment on the food. “But I didn’t have to answer in such gruesome detail.”

  “You’re not used to talking about yourself too much, are you?” She sets her fork down and watches me.

  “Why do you say that?”

  “Well, I don’t know. Because we didn’t talk for very long. And it wasn’t a big deal.”

  “That’s generous of you.” I refill her water glass from a pitcher on the table.

  She watches me do it, her eyes on my hands. Then she looks into my eyes.

  “I was interested,” she says. Her gaze holds mine for several seconds, and my heart stops beating. And then starts again, harder.

  I clear my throat. “Thank you.”

  “My pleasure.” She smiles slowly. “And anyway, if you want to get even you can listen to me for a while sometime.”

  I nod without hesitation. “I’d like that.”

  She waits for a moment, not eating. Not moving. Just watching me.

  “Anything you want to know?” she asks. “That you’re curious about?”

  “Sure,” I say.

  I do have a few questions.

  Like, Why are you so goddamn beautiful?

  Or, Why is it that since the first moment I saw you, I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you?

  Or maybe, How am I going to get through an entire fucking night alone in this house with you?

  “Where are you from?” I ask instead.

  “Around here,” she says. “A few towns over.”

  I note the flatness in her voice. “You don’t sound that excited about it.”

  She shakes her head. “It’s not a very exciting place. I used to travel a lot more, but these past few years I’ve been working at Terra Firma, you know, trying to earn enough to buy a little house somewhere. Of course, Holly’s trying to spend her lottery money and get me a place. I don’t know how I feel about that…but with the baby and everything, I might have to let her.”

  “She’d probably love that.”

  Beth smiles, her face softening at the mention of Holly. “Yeah, I know. She probably would.”

  “It’s bizarre, though, right? Ray and Holly suddenly having all this money?”

  She nods. “Definitely. It kind of…I don’t know, shifts things.”

  “Yeah,” I say. “I mean, don’t get me wrong, I’m happy for them. It’s just weird that my little brother can buy and sell me a hundred times over.”

  She snorts. “For real. And…it’s like they’re in this thing together, you know what I mean? Set apart from everyone else.”

  I watch her for a moment and realize she’s not looking at me. Her eyes are on her plate, which would be normal for anyone else. But I’ve gotten used to direct eye contact from Beth, and she’s avoiding that now.

  “That must be hard on you,” I say carefully. “You and Holly are really close, right? Must be strange to lose her a little like that to Ray.”

  She looks up. Her brown eyes find mine, and I feel that gaze trickle like hot water down my chest and into my belly.

  “Yeah,” she says softly. “It’s a little hard. Selfish of me, though.”

  I shake my head. “It’s not selfish to miss your friend. I miss Ray, too. He’s a pain in the ass, but I got used to him hanging around.”

  Beth smiles and moves the spaghetti around on her plate.

  I decide to change the subject. “You said you, uh, traveled a lot. Where did you go?”

  “Oh, lots of places.” She dabs her mouth with a napkin and sets it back on her lap. “Central and South America, mostly. I did a lot of backpacking trips there with friends. A few bike tours. I miss it.”

  “Do you speak Spanish?”

  I’d wondered vaguely about her ethnicity. She has a typical northeast American accent, but her coloring could pass for Latino.

  “Yep. My grandparents were from Cuba. My mom’s family. I’ve only been there once, but with the travel bans lifted and all that, I want to go back again. And bring this little guy.” She pats her belly. “Your mom was from Mexico, right?”

  “Yeah.”

  “You must miss her, too.”

  I nod slowly. “Sí. I do.”

  “What was she like?”

  I lean back in my chair. There are plenty of things I could say right now. What a saint she was. How deeply she loved us. How much I loved her.

  “She was…you know what?” I blow out a breath and set my napkin on my plate. “She was not perfect.”

  Beth raises an eyebrow, listening.

  “She was a little critical,” I continue. “A little demanding. But it was hard-earned, you know what I mean?”

  “When did she move to New York?” Beth asks.

  “In her early twenties. Didn’t know anybody. Got herself a job at a diner, taught herself English. She had her citizenship already by the time she met Dad. He said she came to his table, looked him straight in the eye, and that was it. They got married three months later. She knew what she wanted, and she didn’t rest until she got it.”

  Beth nudges her plate aside and leans forward. “And she expected the same from you and Ray, right?”

  I tilt my head. “Guess you’ve heard a bit of this story.”

  “Holly’s filled me in, yeah.”

  “She was a good mother.”

  Beth nods. “I don’t doubt it. She raised two good men.”

  “Well.” I shrug. “One, anyway. Ray was her baby, that’s for sure.”

  “And what about you? Weren’t you her baby, too?”

  I look at her. “We were supposed to be talking about you, remember?”

  “Oops.” She shrugs lightly. “Be less interesting next time.”

  I don’t know what to say to that. I get up and start to clear the table, and Beth rises to help.

  “I suppose I should let you get back to your time alone,” she says. “How about I take Alice out for a little walk?”

  I stop. “In the dark?”

  “Sure. She likes a good stroll before bedtime.”

  “Okay. But is it safe, you being out there alone?”

  She just grins and shakes her head at me. “You scared of bears, city boy?”

  “I’d prefer you not be eaten by one, yeah.”

  “Well, then you’d better come with. Or did you have plans for that alone time?”

  I swear there’s a sparkle in her eye when she says this, as though she knows perfectly well what I’m going to do as soon as I’m by myself. I turn toward the sink so she won’t see the color in my face.

  It is torture being this close to her. Hearing her voice, watching her eat.

  I want her, and it’s awful, and I can’t turn my mind away from it. I want a private room with the lights off so I can deal with the heat I’m feeling. So I can take the edge off it.

  But I can’t let her go out walking on her own.

  “I’
ll come with you. Let me get my shoes.”

  Chapter 6

  Beth

  I try holding Alice’s leash, but she’s gotten bigger since I last walked her, and my balance isn’t what it used to be. The shape and weight of my body is changing so quickly now, I don’t know quite where I begin and end anymore.

  Tony takes the leash and has no trouble keeping Alice out of trouble. He walks a straight line down Holly’s secluded lane. The storm has left the air clean and sweet, and the ground wet. There are no other houses here, not for at least a mile, so there’s no danger of cars surprising us. It’s just Tony and me, bundled in sweaters against the chilly October night. And Alice, sniffing hidden treasures in the bushes that border the woods. We walk in silence for a while before Tony speaks again, quietly.

  “I have more questions if you feel like answering them.”

  I look up at the stars. They’re half-concealed behind a veil of clouds moving quickly across the sky. “Oh yeah?”

  “Seems only fair, since I’ve told you so much about myself already.”

  “Not everything.”

  “No, not everything. But more than I know about you.”

  We pause for a moment to let Alice nose around at an interesting spot on the ground. “Careful now. You might find out more than you can handle.”

  I mean it as a joke, but in the darkness the words take on weight. I feel Tony breathe beside me. It’s a long time before he speaks again.

  “I doubt that. You’d be surprised by what I can handle.”

  The thought sends a shiver down my spine. I have no idea if he means what my filthy mind thinks he means.

  At dinner, I watched his hands, the way they moved. And imagined them on me, inside my clothes, against my bare skin. I had no right to be thinking thoughts like that, or even to project that level of competence onto him. But if he’s claiming that competence now, it’s sexy as hell.

  Maybe it’s just the ache that’s in my body at this stage of pregnancy, the need—latching on to him. Wanting something from him that is too big and too intense to be fair.