The seats beside Darcy were empty. Two seats between Darcy and the isle. Then three seats on the opposite side of the plane.
Denver to Monroe Wisconsin was now boarding.
The boggle was, hardly anyone had waited all day at the airport to fly to Wisconsin. By the time the captain made an announcement over the intercom, startling Darcy because of the trance she was in, it was nearly 7:30.
Darcy tried to read. Her mind would not clear. The seats beside her were empty. The flight was smooth, but she was intimately aware of every one else’s movement. Cough. Sneeze. Cry of a child. People walking up and down the isle.
The airlines offered one free drink, so Darcy took a glass of wine, which helped take the edge off, but she felt pathetic, drinking alone. Darcy had gone from a pleasant conversation to alone again. After all the commotion that morning for a ticket out of Denver, people had given up. Had the party been on another day, Darcy would probably have joined them, electing to relax in a hot tub at a hotel instead of sitting around the airport. But then, she wouldn’t have met Galen that way.
She considered what she might have done to leave sooner. Chicago wasn’t terribly far from Madison. She could have flown to Chicago, if she had been willing to change flights and pay the difference.
She relaxed a little, except when the plane had turbulence.
She hadn’t left Galen at the airport. And he hadn’t left her. They had places to be. Opposite directions. That was her life. That was his life.
She couldn’t regret that. Their lives had intersected. Trying her best not to think about him made her homecoming closer to reality.
Letting it sink in that she would, after all that waiting, arrive at home on time for the shower, which started at 11 a.m on Saturday.
Baggage claim took seemingly forever. Sleep never quite happened on the flight, drifting in and out, like trying to sleep with a fierce head cold, hay fever. Too much weighed on her mind. And then there was this constant laughing from passengers sitting behind her, who were apparently enjoying a movie on a personal computer. Darcy wanted it all to stop. Fat chance.
Darcy had made arrangements to stay with her sister and at Darcy’s Uber to get to Lila’s place, that way her pregnant sister didn’t have to come pick her up or wait around on her.
Her driver liked to talk. About everything. Sixty-four dollars well spent not waiting for anyone to come pick her up, especially their mother. No way could Darcy ask her pregnant sister to come get her at the airport at 10 p.m. even though she would have dropped everything to do so.
It was dark outside and cool, standing at the street at the end of Lila and Oliver’s driveway. A colonial. Four beds. White. Grey shutters she could faintly see. Wide blacktop driveway beside a healthy green lawn, where her future niece would get to play. The yard seemed to go on and on, into darkness. Tall trees flanked the house on each side of the yard, their leaves were quiet as Darcy listened to her own footfalls, feeling the weight of them, equally excited, equally tense, equally overjoyed. She had, at last, arrived. After all the talks over the phone, FaceTime calls, emails and texts, photos, this was her sister’s house she shared with her husband and would be the house their kids grew up in.
At least, that’s how they planned it.
A short front porch greeted her, three wide wood steps and the front door, brass knocker in the middle. LEGRANDE etched into it.
Darcy stood there a moment, staring at the knocker, thinking about what this meant, as though it hadn’t occurred to her before.
“I’ve got to quit drinking,” Darcy mumbled to herself, knocking lightly on the door, as though a baby were sleeping inside the house.
The door opened almost instantly. Lila’s jaw dropped, a silent and overjoyed scream came from her. Her face was wet, her cheeks blotchy red. Her mascara had smeared.
Darcy held Lila sideways and both of them lost track of time and place. Neither spoke.
Lila’s belly protruding in all its perfect and enviable roundness felt bigger than she expected. And that made it more beautiful. Darcy didn’t realize how happy for her sister she could be and horribly jealous at the exact same time. Darcy didn’t want to be bitter or resentful over her sister’s picture perfect life with her nice house and all those pretty trees and hardwood floors, not to mention how fabulous she looked sporting a baby bump in cute maternity clothes. They sat in the front room on a sofa beside the fireplace. Lila turned up recessed lights and the square room came to life. The opposite wall was three windows, facing the dark street. Lights could be seen behind closed blinds inside her neighbor’s homes.
Darcy found herself falling in love all over again, without her thinking about it or quite realizing it, but all the same, she was willingly giving herself over to it.
“I love your rug,” Darcy said, looking down as Lila eased herself into the sofa.
Lila smiled, “There’s a story for that one. I love this rug. My favorite room in the house. This is my cozy place.”
Darcy smiled, knowingly. Her sister didn’t need to say she had kids in the neighborhood, going up and down the street. She had told Darcy as much over the phone many times.
Lila launched into her rug story. She was so cute how she told it, talking with her hands, her verbs exhasperated. How she had come to find it at a second hand store they had never been to and ended up there by driving the wrong way down 18 after they’d left Culver’s. Total providence.
“It’s double good. Good buy and a good memory.”
“Yeah, God does that. This rug reminds me of His provision. When I’m not paying attention, he’s still there. Giving. Doing. Guiding. Directing. You know? When I think I’m lost. When I feel alone. I’m not. He’s always there. Constant. Like a star.”
Darcy was quiet awhile, unsure how to respond. Lila had changed a ton since what their mother described as a ‘religious experience’ that Lila had. Their mother wasn’t tossing out blame like garbage, but she wasn’t exactly fond of Lila’s new faith, which had made some uncomfortable moments and alienated people who despised all forms of religion.
Darcy traveled the safe route, interested more in Lila’s belly than much else. “How do you feel?”
“Good,” she made a flat hand like paper and waved it in a straight line. “Level. Like I can do this, which is saying a lot, considering how frantic and crazy I felt a couple hours ago.”
“I’m so sorry, Lila. I should have come home sooner. Screw the paid time off work.”
Lila waved a hand dismissively and then choked up, tears welling in her eyes. Darcy hugged her and they held each other like that, arms around necks, hips touching, as much as that was possible.
After the moment had passed and Lila was calm again, she lifted her long sleeve top to show off her smooth, round belly to Darcy.
“Oliver likes to play games on my belly when she’s practicing kung fu in there. I swear she’s gonna be a ninja. Starting her young, right?”
“Self defense is a must in this neighborhood,” Darcy said, twisting her lips at her sister and Lila returned the silly expression.
“Right. Rough hood round here. She’s gonna have to be tough to cut it on these playgrounds,” Lila said empahtically, as though she were being serious.
Darcy laughed and laid her hand on Lila’s belly as though she were touching a priceless painting on a dare.
“You can touch more than that, I’m not that fragile.”
Darcy smiled at her sister’s belly, like she had swallowed a whole watermelon not giving new life to the world. From the videos, Darcy knew her sister had some size, but it was pretty much all well stretched belly. The horror stories of stretch marks, cellulite and rapidly expanding buns and thighs were not happing in Lila’s world. At least not from Darcy’s vantage point.
Darcy started gently with the tips of her fingers, then placing her palm flat on the belly’s surface, she smoothed her hand over soft skin as though gently applying lotion. She had, without intending to, stopped breathing, as th
ough she were intently listening for what she was pretty sure could not be heard. But she really wanted to be wrong about that.
And at last, it happened. It hadn’t taken very long at all. A kick. Then another right after. Much harder than she had anticipated and it was fairly shocking that her unborn neice had such force.
“Whoa. That’s wild. Sickly adorable and freaky,” Darcy said, laughing and crying at the same time.
Lila, to Darcy’s delight, didn’t ask why her sister was so emotional.
Lila said, “For real.”
Darcy, when she had been pregnant, had been looking forward to feeling her first kick. She had woken every day, waiting for one. She knew she probably wouldn’t get one, considering she wasn’t far along, but still. She hoped. And waited.
She had worried she had missed her baby’s first strike from the womb each time she slept. Tyler had been all over it, his hands on her belly at opportune times when they were waiting. Quiet. Hoping. It was a small joy Darcy had longed for with Tyler. Evidence of life. An independent, living, breathing person, speaking out from inside the womb. After the news hit, after the morning that Darcy had woken up with pain, accompanied by blood that spelled a tragic story, her OB that same day confirmed what she knew to be true and feared like nothing else, Darcy didn’t want to give up on feeling for a kick. A push. Wobble. Anything to tell her that life was still within her own body. That was what she was made for. To bring life and joy to the world around her. What good was she if she couldn’t bring life?
Darcy held her hand completely still and felt one quick kick, right after another. Then another, as though her neice were trying to force her way into the world by any means possible. Or she was saying hello to her auntie in the only way an unborn child knew how. In this moment, time had stopped. And real life had started.
“That’s awesome,” Darcy whispered, as though speaking loudly might wake the baby. “She can hear me, right?”
Lila laughed even though it didn’t make much sense and nodded quickly, the smile on her face could grow no bigger.
Darcy didn’t want to move. Not so long as her unborn neice wanted to put on a show. The kicks changed location, pushing out Lila’s belly in several places near Lila’s belly button.
“This never gets old, does it?” Darcy asked her, in a hushed voice.
Lila laughed. “Once you get used to having an alien grow inside you, not a chance. It’s super cool.”
The women talked about the pregnancy and while Darcy remembered all too often her own awful experience, she had learned so much about life and herself and what really mattered through it. Darcy could only imagine what Lila had experienced.
Darcy had considered telling her sister about her own trauma, so she could understand, but knew that her bitterness would only harm Lila’s joy and Darcy had no desire to do that.
To Darcy, every kick was a reassurance from inside the womb, from the source, that everything was healthy and thriving. Was it perhaps being misinterpreted and it was a request for a burger and fries? Milkshake? Those were possibilities also. Who could interpret baby kicks and translate them for bewildered parents?
When the kicking had done and Lila was fading fast, Darcy helped her sister up the stairs and followed the path to her guest bedroom, which was an empty room with an air mattress on the floor. It was setup to be the baby’s room, once the furniture had arrived.
Tomorrow. At least, that was the plan. Her mother in law had promised the set at the shower in the morning and after the big reveal, would haul it over. Or Oliver would borrow a truck and go pick it up from the park where the shower was being held, if necessary.
Before falling asleep, Darcy checked the forecast yet again. Sunny, and 68.
She told herself to breathe easy, falling asleep, but she couldn’t help how she felt, being that she was in her niece’s future bedroom. Perhaps her air mattress was in the exact spot where the crib would sit.
Now, of course not. That was just being silly.
The crib would never sit in the middle of the room.
Darcy’s phone, dubbed as her alarm, played music at seven, which felt like mere minutes after she had closed her eyes. The window behind her had good blinds on it, but light still seeped in from the edges and partly lit the room; enough to know it was day without knowing the time. The baby shower wasn’t until eleven, but Darcy had so much to do and micromanage, she couldn’t possibly sleep longer, even if she had wanted to.
She felt unprepared. Rushed. Seconds counted. Everything had to be completed in that very instant. She had to tell herself, with that helpful reminder from her watch, to breathe.
She couldn’t remember that she had showered, though steam still lingered in the bathroom as she did her makeup in the mirror, towel wrapped around herself. She awkwardly ran into Oliver in the hallway, on her trip to the bedroom to dress. He hadn’t been very conversational at the time, carrying in his bag from the gym, hair still wet from a shower.
“Oops,” Darcy had said, pushing the closet door open and stopping when she heard a hard thud. She had been going for her coat and hit the hand of a guy she hadn’t laid eyes on before in the process.
He was wincing, holding his hand. Dark eyes, dark shoulders with definition under a fit sweater. Darcy had to stop herself, because she thought she was imagining him at first blush. Where had he come from? She hadn’t heard a rocket ship land on her sister’s yard.
Darcy had to admit to herself, she understood what excited her sister about Oliver. And she saw some of those same physical features in this man standing before her, rubbing his fingers and making an annoyed face at Darcy. He tried his best to hide his pain. Okay, sort of. She had no idea how hard she had hit his hand with the closet door, but she knew it made a solid thunk when wood door met his hand. Was he milking it or was he really hurt, she didn’t know.
“I’d shake your hand if it didn’t hurt so much,” he said, still rubbing his hand and stepping back, away from the closet they were contending for. “You’re Darcy, right? Oliver’s sister-in-law I keep hearing so much about?”
Uh. Darcy was tempted to pinch herself. He didn’t have a boarding pass of hers on him, did he? Perhaps to Vegas? Paris? One way, please.
“I am Darcy. Yes,” she said, her head spinning with potential possible outcomes, which included a bag of ice they used in naughty ways and she told herself to keep it together. Shower. Time was wasting. No time for men, even though he looked like he was worth being late for. She found herself for the briefest of seconds wishing she were a nurse, before she recollected that she hated shots. “I’m so sorry. Is your hand okay? I’m pretty sure I can find you some ice,” Darcy volunteered.
“I’ll live, I think.”
He was wincing though and Darcy wondered if this were all a prank.
Darcy noticed that he had a light athletic jacket on the wood floor, which he had dropped when she hit him with the door. Darcy retrieved it for him and volunteered to hang it up, as a way of apology.
He shrugged, “Thanks. I guess.”
Her head spinning with everything she had to do, she went to the kitchen, leaving him at the foyer closet, rubbing his hand. She returned, moments later, hair freshly tousled in the refrigerator’s reflection, with an ice pack she found conveniently located in the freezer door.
“Again, I’m so sorry. I’m in a rush this morning,” Darcy said, hoping to smooth things over and at the same time, wanting to frantically move on and stay for a lifetime if that were possible. “I’d stay to mend you, if I had time,” she said and immediately felt that came out all wrong as soon as the corners of his mouth formed a sly smile, as though he were wondering what she had in mind.
“Raincheck, then. You have a party to plan. Hope the glass slipper fits,” he said, excusing himself and saundering off. Darcy told herself to get a move on it and stop paying attention to this totally random stranger, yet again. He must be looking for Oliver. Workout buddy. Maybe a work buddy? That sounded enticing. Darcy d
idn’t know and as tempted as she was to follow him to at least get his name, his number would be a bonus, she figured it was another chance meeting she wouldn’t get an encore for. Fat chance at that.
Focus Darcy. She had two and a half hours to make magic happen and she was lacking a wand. Seriously.
She texted Monica to confirm she had what she needed for the games, just in case she discovered she didn’t have a specific ball or net or something. Darcy laughed to herself, visualizing her pregnant sister, who still stubbornly did her spin classes every day, getting out on the lawn barefoot and running, with all her long and flowwy auburn locks dancing behind her, a monumentous smile across her face like it should be a postcard named happiness. Or absentminded bliss.
While walking out to her rental car, the fantastically underpowered Mitsubishi Mirage Darcy swore must run on a lawn mower engine, strategically parked off the driveway on the lawn so she didn’t risk getting blocked in by well meaning people parking on the driveway, she called Gillian instead of texting her. Yes, texting would be faster and easier. Lazy, even. A call was more personal. Direct. No way could the crown jewel of the shower’s food items a.k.a. the cake (according to Lila), be left to chance. The cake, wasn’t technically just one cake. It was several smaller cakes because of dietary concerns and taste preferences.
“How many are coming?” Gillian had asked. Her tone of voice didn’t say she was excited. Not like she should be, in Darcy’s mind.
“At last count, thirty-three, but that’s including the pop over people. Who knows how many will want cake?”
“That’s it,” Gillian said and her tone turned dour. “Fuck this picky picky. Just make the pieces smaller. Or do mini cakes.”
Darcy inhaled deeply and held it. She had to get Gillian back on her side. Gillian wasn’t having this whole cake redirection. Essentially, Gillian was getting manipulated to the point she might combust and Darcy could not have her bailing. Though Darcy had been totally reluctant to give Gillian any responsibilities after she bailed on throwing the shower for Lila herself, Gillian had begged for a job and had been very appologetic and Darcy, short on helpful people in Monroe Wisconsin and feeling slightly sympathetic, agreed to give her an important role.
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