“Can’t a man spend time with his wife without having his motives questioned?”
“So, you’re saying if I were to get out of this tub and tell you I was going to the bedroom completely nude nothing conjugal would take place?”
“I love it when you use big words for sex.”
“Distraction is the same as denial,” she called through the door.
Taking her response as permission to enter, Donovan opened the door and made himself comfortable on the commode beside the tub.
“Do you always take baths with candles?”
Becca had candles on two corners of the tub. One of them was vanilla, and the other was a variation of a lavender fragrance that her friend Hannah had bought as a bridal shower present for her. She had been in the tub so long the bubbles that once threatened to seep over the top of the rim barely hid her body.
“Can you pass me the towel please?” She pointed at the mauve colored towel beside Donovan’s gray towel. It was one of the few variations in the decorations to indicate that a female resided in the house. Until she was certain they were married for real, Becca did not want to upset the dynamic any more than moving her clothes had caused.
“You’re not leaving because of me, are you?”
“No, the water was getting cold.”
Donovan wrapped the towel around her back. With the gesture, he spoke barely above a whisper. “I know a way to make things warmer.”
The feeling of his hands against her bare skin combined with the temptation in his voice was enough for Becca to acquiesce to the intentions she had suspected all along.
An hour later she woke feeling slightly chilled. Her eyes scanned the room for Donovan. The blankets on his side of the bed were pulled up neatly, making it look as though he was never there. Through the bedroom door, she heard the tinny scream come from the television. Becca pulled an extra blanket from the top of the closet and returned to the bed to enjoy the peaceful slumber that came from living with someone she knew almost better than herself.
Not It
“You added another beer to the tap.” Donovan was in his usual Thursday after work place at the bar in Keane’s pub.
“Yeah, this is from the microbrewery in Cut Bank.” Keane tilted the handle to pour the gold colored brew into a pint glass for his friends. “This is their oatmeal stout.” The foam had settled enough for Donovan and Kent to see the gold make way for the darker hues of the beer.
“Have you two had your first fight yet?” Keane leaned against the bar ready for the juicy details of Donovan’s newlywed life.
“Other than the fiasco Lloyd’s girlfriend caused? No.” He considered the question and couldn’t figure out why Keane asked it. “We’ve known each other for all our lives. What would there be to fight about?”
Keane rubbed his chin in thought. “Hmm, where shall I begin? What colors to use for the bathroom?”
“Or how the deer head belongs in a different room. Usually the garage or the basement,” Kent added.
Raising his finger and pointing to address the next issue, Keane said, “We must remember how we don’t know how to organize our kitchen.”
“Like I’ve said all along because we were friends for so long we already knew each other’s issues.” Donovan took a drink of his beer. The smooth liquid had a deep taste that lingered long after he swallowed it. However, the aftertaste was sweet, not bitter like most beers.
“Issues are hidden until you have to make room for other things.” Keane looked apologetically at Donovan. Like he missed something everyone else could see.
Thinking his other friend would take his side, Donovan turned to Kent for support. Before he opened his mouth to say something like, “Tell our friend he is mistaken,” he saw the same look of incredulity in Kent’s eyes too.
Donovan was getting ready to launch into an explanation of how his engagement and prenuptial agreement set up the parameters of the relationship when he noticed Keane’s attention was elsewhere. His eyes followed the invisible trail Keane had made. At the edge of the front window, he saw Hannah and Katie from the County Extension office pass by. He returned his attention to Keane who, in the absence of what had distracted him in the first place, blinked and began wiping the counter.
“What was that?” Donovan used his thumb to draw an imaginary line connecting Keane to Hannah. “Do you have a thing for her?”
“No.” It was Keane’s turn to exercise the skill of denial. “Can’t a guy enjoy an attractive woman when she walks by?”
“For the record, she’s been attractive for years. You were acting like it was the first time you saw her.” Donovan motioned to stand. “If you want I can go get her and bring her back to talk to you.”
“I’m good. Anyway, we’re talking about your marital issues. Or the lack of them.” Keane replied.
“I don’t have any issues.”
“And that is a problem,” Kent said. “She just moved into the house you have owned for the last fifteen years and settled in with no issues. I hate to say it, but that is an issue.”
“It is called a honeymoon period,” Donovan defended. However, in the back of his mind, the yellow flag of caution waved its warning signal.
“It is called your dear wife, Becca, is not invested in the relationship. If anyone should know about that it would be me.” Kent warned.
Donovan wanted to negate Kent’s advice by calling it a lingering bitterness that came from his friend’s wife leaving him for another man. Then again, who would know the signs of infidelity better than the man who had survived it? But it didn’t make sense. Whenever he called, Becca happily answered the phone. She was never too tired or too busy for sex. Was it possible that her sexual appetite surpassed his ability to match it?
“Has Abigail said anything about her talking to any other men?”
Kent’s response was interrupted by the front door opening. Abigail, Dina and Becca walked into the pub. It was as though the mention of her name made Donovan’s wife appear.
Becca came up alongside him and gave his hand a squeeze that conveyed a warm hello. Since they’d returned from their honeymoon, the public displays of affection pulled back to subtle touches and eye contact that hinted at the special connection between the two of them. Up until ten minutes ago, he liked that they weren’t overtly expressive. Now he was second guessing the behavior. Maybe he should have put it out there a little more that she was his wife.
He loved Becca more than anyone, Becca included, could know. There had been times when he woke in the night and laid in silence and full of awe at her beauty watched her sleep. After all these years, she was in his bed as his wife. It was almost too good to be true. He hoped that she shared the sentiment within the gleam in her eye.
“Do you ladies want to try a sample of our newest beer?” Without waiting for an answer, Keane placed three mugs on the table.
The smile all but disappeared from Becca’s face. “No, I’m good. I’ll just have water with lemon.”
Dina answered, “I’ll have my usual wine.”
Abigail scrunched her face while considering her choices. “I’m not feeling beer right now. How about a soda?”
“None of you are going to try the beer? What? Is one of you pregnant?”
All three women startled. “Not it,” Abigail called out.
“Since when did wine become the pregnant woman’s beverage of choice?” Dina’s voice dripped with sarcasm.
“And we know that isn’t happening anytime soon in our house.” Donovan broke his code of being openly affectionate and wrapped his arm around Becca’s waist to pull her closer to him.
She choked and tapped on her chest while she coughed to loosen her throat.
Donovan tapped on her back while she took sips from the glass of water that Keane slid in front of her.
“I was just joking around.” Keane’s explanation was his way of apologizing. After the chip incident, Donovan noticed how he worked to stay on Becca’s good side.
The front door opened, and a family came through the door signaling the beginning of Keane’s dinner rush. The friends had been at his pub for so many years they knew the signs of the ebbs and flows of his business routine. Donovan placed his money on the bar. “It looks like it’s time for us to head home.” With the gesture, the friends said their goodbyes and promised to call each other tomorrow. As they stepped on the sidewalk outside the pub, Donovan thought to himself, “It doesn’t get any better than this.”
Butter Him Up
Dina had been married longer than all of them. That made her the expert on marriage. Abigail’s entanglement with Donovan’s best friend, Kent, made her the spy. She pumped Kent for information that Donovan might not share with Becca because she was closer to the situation. The only thing Abigail was able to come up with was Donovan was concerned about the five pounds he gained since being married.
But, Dina on the other hand, was a wealth of information. “Honey, I’ve had to dig my way out of a hole so many times, I should go into construction.” Given Donovan’s stance on children, with his help, Becca was in a hole. A big hole. The Grand Canyon was small compared to the crater this was going to create in their lives.
At first, Dina wasn’t sympathetic to the cause. “Everyone knows the rhyme.”
Abigail and Becca shared a confused look.
Dina rolled her eyes. “We sang it all the time in second grade. First comes love, then comes marriage, then comes the baby in the baby carriage.”
It was enough to stress Becca to tears. They had done it in reverse. For them, it was marriage and then love. That had to be a sign that things weren’t going to end well. She stepped off the stationary bike. “I have to go to the bathroom. I’ll be back in a minute.”
“Hey, it isn’t that bad,” Dina rushed to her side. “And this is hormones.”
Becca inhaled a breath to pull herself together. “No, this is Donovan never wanted to have children.”
“Most men say that. And then when the baby gets here, they fall in love.”
“Did most men have a vasectomy?” Maybe it would be easier if Becca ran away from home.
“We’ll get you through this.” Dina wrapped her arm around Becca’s shoulder. “It’ll be alright. I promise.”
With that, Dina began teaching arguing 101. The three friends pedaled on stationary bikes and discussed the variety of ways Donovan could respond when Becca broke the news to him. First came disbelief. Then came the accusation of sabotaging the birth control, followed by the rant of how she ruined their lives. Then came the suggestion: butter him up.
“The trick is you have to have him in a state of almost bliss with where you are in your lives. You know, nice dinner and a back rub. Maybe bring him some snacks while he is watching the game. This is better if his team wins, but you have to work with the circumstances you’re given. Or wait for a really good play, and when they turn to go to a commercial, you break the news to him. That’s even better because when the game comes back on, he’ll want to go back to watching it. If there ever was an argument, he’ll want to drop it.”
Through breaths ragged from riding the bike, Abigail asked, “This is how you dig yourself out of holes with Rhett?”
“Every time?”
“And it works?” A fourth voice joined the collaboration. The aerobics instructor who was walking by at the time overheard what they were talking about and stopped to catch the end of the conversation.
By the time they finished their cooling stretches, a small group of women had formed a support system that addressed what to do if everything went right, and a backup plan for just in case it didn’t.
As soon as husband and wife walked through the front door of their home, Becca launched into her plan to tell her husband that they were about to enter the next stage in their adult life. Parenthood. The thought made her stomach lurch. They had been single for so long, the idea of a third person alternated between exhilarating and unnerving Abigail. One minute she was thrilled about the possibility and the next she feared not only ruining her life but that of the child she was carrying.
“Are you okay?” It was almost like Donovan could read her mind.
“Yes, I’m fine,” she answered and then regretted it. There was her chance to tell him. Then again, she hadn’t done anything to prepare him. Pulling the plan to the front of her mind, she added, “I was wondering if you wanted me to make some nachos for you while you watched the game.”
“It’s a bi week. No game this week.” He pulled her into him. “Which means we can play a little contact sport of our own.”
Becca placed her hand on his chest and stepped back to loosen his grip on her waist. “A back rub. Do you want a back rub?” Determined to tell him as soon as possible, Becca hurried to get to his back before he turned to face her. She kneaded his shoulders to give him a sample of what was to come. Keeping secrets was not her forte. That, and the sooner he knew what was happening, the quicker they could get on with the next steps.
Her intention was to guide him to the couch where he could lay down and get the full benefit of the back rub.
He placed his hands on hers and rotated. Holding both her hands in his, he cut to the chase. “You want something. There isn’t much you could ask for that I’d refuse you. So out with it.”
The truth was more than she was able to contain. Becca blurted, “I’m pregnant.” She bit her lip and held her breath in anticipation of Donovan’s reaction.
It wasn’t as immediate as she expected. The process was so slow; she practically saw the gears in his head move. First, the freeze as the information went from his ears to his head. Then the eyes widening and contracting as the impact of the information began sinking in. Finally, he loosened his grip on her hands. Donovan took two steps away from her. “That is impossible.”
Her hands, chilled from the absence of his touch, went into her pockets for comfort she instinctively knew he wasn’t going to provide. This was the last thing, the only thing Donovan didn’t want. He had said it so many times; she almost wondered if she should have got him drunk before telling him. Becca frowned. “I thought the same thing. Then the doctor said that sometimes vasectomies repair themselves.”
“You’re blaming me.”
Becca almost wished they weren’t standing so close together. Then she wouldn’t have seen the disbelief followed by the shadow in his eyes. He thought she was lying to him about more than the pregnancy. She stepped away in preparation for the barrage of accusations. The doctor said it might happen.
She softened her voice. “No, I was explaining how it was possible.”
“What’s his name?” Donovan demanded. When she didn’t answer, he asked, “How far along are you?”
“Six weeks.” Her heart pleaded with him to see that she had been faithful to him.
His eyes went to the ceiling as though he were reading an invisible calendar. “I was in Helena giving a presentation on grizzly migration three weeks ago.” He continued with the details of the past, “Five weeks ago it was Missoula. How can you be so certain it’s six weeks? What if you’re off by a week?”
It pained her, but she knew any effort she attempted to get him to believe the child was his was useless. “You need some time. I get it.”
“Time for what? Time to get used to the fact that you’re trying to pin me down with some other man’s child?”
The accusation stabbed her heart and lodged itself somewhere in the pit of her stomach. Becca expected the insults. She hadn’t expected them to cut so deep.
“Don’t think crying is going to work on me either.”
She motioned to move in the direction of their, his, bedroom. Her heart raced in her chest. They had bickered back and forth over the years, but she and Donovan had never argued. They had lived by the creed “It is better to be happy than right.” If he was right, it might have made a differe
nce. But he wasn't, and it made the argument that much worse.
Donovan stepped in front of her. “You couldn't make it to six months. Six months was all I asked for."
Becca knew from the advice he’d given her over the years, that Donovan had a severe side to him. The number, six months, was a slap of reality. She had been right all along. He had no intention of being with her for longer than six months. It did little to soften the blow of being the recipient of it. But it didn't hurt as bad as she thought it would. She didn't feel like she was going to die.
Steeling herself for what was to come, Becca made a mental list of what to pack. "Can you step out of the way?"
"Why?"
"Rules to a breakup number one." She held up her finger, "Assert the prepared boundaries. I believe you said 'six months.'" Her index finger joined the pointer to make number two. "In a couple seconds, you will initiate the second rule. Make a clean cut. They heal faster."
Donovan's mouth opened, but it failed to produce any words. She had him.
"Let me say it for you. It's time we took a break. We don't want to say anything we'll regret later."
"Things are done between us," Donovan yelled. "Done."
Becca flinched and quickly recovered. The stress had an adverse effect on her, and she found a calm within herself. It had to be shock.
"Can you move so I can get a bag packed?"
He stepped aside and went into the kitchen. Becca packed enough to get her through the weekend. This was a day by day plan. If he didn’t calm down, she’d come by when he wasn’t at the house and get more of her clothes.
Donovan kept his gaze on the wall on the far side of the room. When she got to the door, he said, "I might have been able to forgive an affair, but I told you from the beginning I didn't want a child."
Becca replied, "Be careful about what you wish for Donovan. It might come true." She closed the door behind her.
Time for a Friend
The splash of cold water on her face did little to add some oomph to Becca’s attitude. She just wanted to go home, curl on the couch, and sleep until her problems disappeared. Instead, she was in the bathroom of the city hall building where she worked fighting to make it through the day. She tapped on the paper towel dispenser when Hannah joined her in the bathroom. Hannah worked in the office two floors down from the tax assessor's office where Becca worked.
Get Well Soon Page 7