by Vivien Vale
Months.
There are nine of those in front of me now. This pregnancy is actually happening, but Carter just suddenly ending the celebration out of the blue…
It just doesn’t feel right.
Dragging myself to the en suite bathroom, I shake my head in disbelief at my own indignant thoughts.
Carter didn’t choose to end this evening. It was interrupted by outside forces.
June, come on, now. I scold myself out loud as I push through the bathroom door.
It wasn’t some sinister outside force.
It was family—and I encouraged him to do what was right.
“Family comes first,” I mutter while mindlessly twisting both the hot and cold spigot handles over the massive marble sink.
Rinsing my face, scrubbing vigorously with my hands, it suddenly becomes obvious.
The warmth I felt for so long after Carter’s departure wasn’t just about my evening with him or the goodbye we shared.
It was also about who I saw him being—somebody who was there for his family. Sure, it took some convincing on my part, but I could sense the urgency when he left.
His concern for his brother was as clear as a South Sioux City sky on a sunny day. He couldn’t hide it if he tried. It’s powerful to see someone care for their family like that.
And I guess it was powerful to see the way Carter obviously cares for his family.
With my face now beyond rinsed, I let my hands fall to my sides and watch the water run quietly down the drain.
His family.
But what about me?
The mother of his child?
Who, by the way, is still not all that familiar with this behemoth of a penthouse and doesn’t feel very much at home here by herself.
It’s like that whirlwind of confusion that marked my arrival in New York is coming back to life. Watching the spiral of water circling the drain, I’m astonished at how alone I feel.
I need to talk to somebody—someone who cares.
Since Carter has seemingly been swallowed by the vacuum of the city, I have precious few options.
After finally turning off the tap, I totter back out into the bedroom to check that clock and make sure that it’s for real.
The far-off traffic noise, a muted din that would usually be soothing, uncorks more fresh anxiety. Unthinkingly, I hold my hands lightly over my stomach.
There’s that clock on the wall again. It’s past three now, and it ain’t the freaking afternoon, either.
The feeling of aloneness and helplessness, which came on so abruptly, is still there, and it feels like it’s digging in for the long haul.
Waiting for Carter is no longer an option—I need somebody to talk to, and I think I know who that somebody is.
One more glance at the clock doesn’t change things. It’s still a couple minutes past three here in New York, which means that it’s a couple minutes past one back in western Nebraska.
If he was at Bill’s Roadhouse tonight, he should just be wandering in about now. If not, he’s already asleep for sure.
Life on the farm doesn’t allow for too many late nights, but I know my father feels like he’s earned the occasional night out with a couple beers and a few old friends. He will never hear a disagreement from me on that point.
If I end up waking him up, then I end up waking him up. It’s not like I have a choice right now—it’s like I’m lost in a strange alien universe and the only thing that can save me is the sound of a familiar voice.
Tears are threatening to well up in my eyes as I prepare to enter the dark abyss of the hallway outside the master bedroom. The size of this apartment seems majestic when Carter’s here, but it’s beyond overwhelming when I’m alone—or, at least it is tonight.
The hallway isn’t as dark as I anticipated—there’s a low light coming from a nearby metal wall sconce.
Follow your instincts, June. They rarely lead you astray.
My instincts lead me through a doorway on my left. Overhead lighting—probably hooked up to a motion sensor—switches on as I enter to reveal a sizable home office.
Across from me is a picture window with a stunning view, but the desk in front of the window—with a desk phone—is of much more interest to me.
Traffic noise comes through the window as I sit down in the big leather desk chair. This time it does sound soothing—even more so as I dial the number I’ll always know by heart.
After I dial, the ringing starts immediately, and calm sweeps over me. My newfound sense of calm recedes a bit as the phone keeps ringing, though.
Oh, well. My dad is sleeping soundly, but just dialing the number and hearing the ring is enough to make me feel so much—
“Hello?”
The groggy yet instantly familiar voice coming through the receiver summons those long-threatening tears right down my cheeks. A couple brief sobs also escape as I cover the mouthpiece and try to compose myself.
“Dad…”
“Junebug…why are you calling at this hour? Are you okay?”
With a deep breath, my last sob evaporates, and I’m finally able to talk.
“Dad, yes, I’m okay.”
My dad waits for more of an explanation, but gives up after a couple seconds.
“Well, that’s good. I’m just happy to hear from you, Junebug. It’s been a long time since I’ve known life here without you. It’s like a whole new world, and to be honest, I don’t much care for it.”
I take another deep breath to fight another round of tears. Thankfully, this one doesn’t materialize.
“I know, Dad. It just…couldn’t last forever.”
“I’m well aware of that, June. And I’ll get used to it. Are you ready to tell me why you’re calling at…what time is it there?”
“Dad, I-I don’t know if I can go into all the details.”
“There’s no need, Junebug. Just stick to the ones I need to know. If there’s anything on this Earth I trust, it’s your judgment. But…should I be worried?”
“No, Dad. There’s nothing for you to worry about…”
“Is there something for you to worry about, then?”
There’s the question, laid bare, that’s been eating at me since I glanced at the clock.
“Tonight…out of nowhere…he left.”
At the worst moment, I’m suddenly unable to speak. I hear my dad sighing.
“No, Dad,” I continue, regaining my voice, “not like that. He left me alone here at his place. It’s really nice, but…”
“What do you mean he left you alone? At his place? Did you have a fight?”
“No…”
“Is he galivantin’ around town with someone else?”
“Just his brother.”
Another, slightly different sigh comes through the phone line.
“I think I might need some more details after all, Junie.”
“Supposedly, there’s some kind of problem—those are details I’m not sure of—and he had to go meet his brother…at a bar of all places, and it was like four hours ago, and he’s still not back.”
My last few words are overtaken by sobs, and my father stays silent.
“It was supposed to be a special night for us. And it was, but then…”
“But then what, Junie?”
“But then…it was just over.”
“What was just over? Some plans you had? What are you really upset about?”
As upset as I feel, I don’t know if I can answer that question clearly.
I can try, though.
“If he’s just willing to run out on me tonight, and just leave me in this huge, strange place…what does that mean about our future?”
“How did he run out on you, Junie? What did he say?”
“He said…goodbye.”
“So, he did leave you.”
“No, he actually said see you later, and he blew me a kiss. And I’m at his place, remember. And…I had to convince him to go. But he never came back.”
“Does this all sound ridiculous to you?” I ask in a soft voice. I’m sure it does sound absurd, but that doesn’t make me feel any better.
“It doesn’t at all, Junebug. These things you feel—that everyone feels—around people that they care about…in that way, well, it’s the most powerful thing in this world. It gets out of control real easy, and it can get hard to get a hold of, darn near impossible…”
He sounds convinced of everything he says, but he sounds so calm.
“But I’m talking about this situation, Dad—the one that’s happening to me right now.”
“There’s a time I woulda said the same thing, June...”
“When?”
“Back when I was first courtin’ your mother.”
Darn, I should’ve known that subject would come up. I’m emotional enough already.
“Not courtin’, sorry,” he continues, “This was after we had first gotten married, in fact. Your mother was working at the five-and-dime…”
“The one that closed down last year?”
“Yep. Changin’ times and all.”
“I didn’t know that.”
“Yep, before you were born. She worked behind the soda counter, and I had the farm, of course. She had the second shift, and she’d get home at seven-thirty every night, without fail. And I’d wait for her all the way out front by the rural route.”
“Every night, huh?” I allow myself a bit of a smirk. It’s a cute image, but it soon makes me sad for a myriad of reasons.
“You better believe it. It was the highlight of my day, the thing that made workin’ in the fields worthwhile.”
“So, she didn’t show up one night or something?”
“One night she didn’t. It was a Wednesday, I recall. She didn’t call or nothing—and they did have a phone in that part of town.”
“Did she get a flat tire or something?”
“Well…yeah. Also, her engine overheated. But you’re skippin’ to the end of the story. She was more than three hours late, because she couldn’t get to a phone…”
“He’s got a phone in his pocket, Dad, like everyone else most places.”
“Well, in those three hours,” he continues, ignoring me, “I was already on the phone with the biggest realtor in the county, readying to sell the farm.”
My gasp was loud enough to echo off the walls.
“But, why? I couldn’t imagine you ever selling it.”
“At the time, June, I only had one real reason to be here, with all these acres of land, toiling away like you wouldn’t believe.”
“So, that was Mom.”
“Correct, Junie. I knew your mother loved me. We were married, and she told me all the time. But those feelings can get so strong, and the fear can get ya so easy, I was convinced she left me, and I was ready to give it all up…until my reason for bein’ here finally showed up on foot. Junie, it was the most beautiful sight I’d ever seen up to that point. Just in time, too—I was getting the deed ready.”
My dad’s story works. I’m silenced and lost in thought…for a few seconds, at least. Then I think of a question.
“Dad...was Mom really your only reason for having the farm?”
“She was for a while, Junie. Until another reason came along.”
“Okay, Dad, I appreciate it, but…I don’t know.”
“Just don’t break out any legal papers, Junebug. Not yet.”
“Okay, Dad…I love you.”
“I love you, too, Junebug. I need to sleep.”
Hearing my dad hang up, I don’t feel any better.
That story doesn’t translate. There are phones everywhere at every time.
And I love my mom more than life itself, but she wasn’t a super-wealthy playboy.
What if something happened to him?
I slam down the receiver, trying to quell the worst anxiety I’ve felt tonight.
It doesn’t work.
Chapter 25
Carter
My head feels like it’s been held under water for so long, my eardrums have burst and the bubbles have stopped coming up.
I stand there in the doorway feeling like my brain’s come unscrewed. My head is an echo chamber of black thoughts and bad decisions right now, and it’s all I can do to stop myself from acting on every single fucking one of them.
But then I see her. I see June—my bride, mother of my child.
And then slowly—slowly but surely—the sound returns to my ears.
I look at her, standing there by the window with her long silken hair haloed by light, and for the first time since I left, everything feels like it might be alright.
This must be what coming home to love feels like.
She’s draped in blue satin and glowing golden. Her hands are placed protectively over her belly. But then I see the look on her face.
Her body says Hail, Mary, but the way she has her brows furrowed at me looks anything but full of grace.
Eyes full of something I can’t quite place. Was it anger, sadness, or a combination of both?
Or could it even be something different altogether?
So, this is what it fucking feels like to be held accountable for my actions.
“It’s late,” she begins. “How is he? I mean, is everything alright?” Her voice is a little shaky.
I shrug.
“What happened? It’s so late. I worried, you didn’t call,” she stops.
Those huge eyes of hers fill with tears.
Okay, so I know she wants me to talk to her and tell her what happened, giving her every last bit of detail.
But there’s one fucking problem.
I don’t want to fucking talk. All I want to do is grab her by the waist and rip her gown off her shoulders. My mind is not on what happened at the bar anymore. No, it’s somewhere totally different.
Fuck, she looks so hot.
Without thinking, I take a step toward her, and before I really know what the fuck I’m doing, I’ve grabbed her by the shoulders.
My fingers are digging into her soft flesh. I barely take any notice of the change in her eyes. It’s a fleeting change, one I should pay attention to.
I’ve got no coherent thought left in my mind. In fact, my brain’s gone on vacation and left my dick in charge.
I lose all sense of time. My mouth finds hers and pushes down her hard. Every bit of my body wants her.
Possessive, I push my tongue into her mouth. I’m so overwhelmed with desire I don’t hear her muffled screams or take note of her pushing me away.
Like a drunk man, I clutch to the only solid thing in my life right now.
June.
She’s my light. She’s my sunshine. She’s my everything.
I want her. I need her. If I can’t fuck her this minute, I think I might lose my mind.
It seems to me as if she’s the only thing that can save me right now.
And when I say I want her and I need her, I don’t even know exactly what I mean. It feels so intense and so genuine, but she’s inspiring something in me that I don’t comprehend, something deep.
It’s well beyond some drunken fucking lust. It’s almost like it’s beyond any lust—though that’s certainly a huge fucking part of it.
But the yearning I have for her…it’s like everything broken in me, in the world is healed by her presence and her kindness and just every magnificent goddamn thing about her.
It’s almost like I need her to save me.
Of course, I have no fucking idea what I need saving from. I only have a feeling, a strange feeling growing inside of me.
This whole fucking evening had been a mistake. Once Lawrence called, I should have known he had something planned.
You don’t go ignoring someone and then suddenly ask him or her to meet you in some bar if you didn’t have some ulterior motive.
Of course, the fool that I am, I walked right into his little game.
By now, my tongue is trying to reach for her tonsils. I’m so desperate for her. I want to devour her.
It’s not until I feel a stabbing pain between my legs and the world goes out of focus that I take a step back. Something’s not right.
My body folds like it’s fucking laundry day, temporarily making it an enormous challenge to breathe.
Fuck.
“Sorry,” June’s sobbing.
I’m consumed by pain for a few more seconds. And when it subsides, I straighten up.
Did she really just kick me in the balls?
Her hands are covering her face. Behind her, the city is still slumbering. Here and there, I can see a light on in the high-rise buildings we can see from up here.
It won’t be long before it’ll come to life.
As I look at my June—so vulnerable, so sad, and so utterly shattered, I realize what I’ve just tried to do.
How could I?
Instead of coming home to this gorgeous woman and talking to her, I’ve come in and tried to fuck her.
Suddenly, I feel about as big as the crap on the bottom of my shoe. In fact, I should be the crap on the bottom of someone’s shoe.
I have acted totally selfishly. No, worse, I’ve reacted—and I can’t even say what I reacted to.
“June,” I take a step toward her.
Horrified, I notice her flinch. Her body starts to shake, and her hands seem to find her belly again.
Her eyes are swollen and red.
Oh, Jesus, what have I done? Who am I?
“June, I’m sorry,” I reach out and touch her lightly on the shoulder.
She flinches but does not move away.
“I’ve…sick…worry…talk…” She’s sobbing so much now, her words make no sense.
Tentatively, I approach June.
This time, I wrap my arms around her and hold her softly, delicately. It takes a bit of time, but eventually she relaxes into me.
She continues to sob.
It takes her what seems like an eternity to get a hold of herself, but her sobbing eventually eases.
“I’m so sorry,” I whisper over and over again as I stroke her hair.
And I am so truly fucking sorry that I’m terrified I’ll never be able to express it correctly.
I’m sorry for having gone to meet Lawrence.
I’m sorry for getting back so goddamn late.