by Aven Jayce
“Cove,” she says in a quiet voice, splashing cold water onto her face. “I’d love to make a comment about you being a moron right now, but I’m gonna hold back.”
“I didn’t mean to say that I can hold my liquor and you can’t, I was only trying to make you feel better.”
“How is telling me you should be on your knees puking instead of me going to make me feel better?”
I shrug as she pats her face dry and slides into a worn t-shirt and her black skinny jeans. I just fucked her, but with that outfit I’d fuck her again if I could get it up. Maybe tonight. My dick’s pretty happy right now. But damn, her body looks fine in that outfit. Okay, stop thinking about tits and ass for two seconds and go back to soothing her stomach. Maybe she could use some Pepto.
“Cove!”
“What?”
“Are you listening to me? What are you thinking about?”
“I’m listening.”
“Well?”
“Well what?”
“I just fucking told you I was pregnant and your reaction is well what? Seriously?”
She heads for the stairs, down to the living room, and changes our surround sound to some depressing girl band; lyrics of broken hearts, an old farmhouse, and some other sappy-ass crap fills my ears. Fuck-it-all-to-hell. If she wasn’t so beautiful I wouldn’t always be thinking with my dick and would’ve heard her.
“Fuckin’ A,” I sigh. I can’t believe I missed out on her telling me she was pregnant. Talk about insensitive.
I head down to make amends. Her back is turned and she’s gazing at the city once again. Holy hell, she’s pregnant and she has no idea how happy I am.
Step one; change the music to something that depicts my mood and my feelings to the news. Best Day Of My Life is a good song. That transforms the atmosphere to something more cheerful.
Step two; wrap my arms around her and kiss the top of her head, her cheek, and finally her mouth. I could care less right now that her breath smells like puke.
Step three; hold her face in the palm of my hands and look into her eyes, with a tear in mine, then shake my head in disbelief.
Step four; smile and say I love you.
CHAPTER EIGHT
“You look handsome,” she whispers, and takes my hand as we approach my parent’s loft. Her rose-colored short-sleeve dress flows freely as her sandals flap on the hallway floor. I kiss her cheek to return the compliment.
“I want to find us a nice house in the city, Soph, just like we’ve talked about. One with a yard so our kid can play outside. I’m already stressing about our terrace, what if the thing tumbles off of it? And the pool? Fuck, our place is like a danger palace for a child. If we buy a house the pool has to be outside, with a tall fence, and a gate that locks.”
“Doesn’t a new house sound wonderful? This is so exciting!” she grins and swings my arm as we walk. “Oh, and by the way, don’t refer to our baby as a thing.”
“Sorry,” I pause. “I just want to be a good father. I feel like my entire life changed this morning in a matter of seconds.”
“What do you mean? We’ve been planning this for a while. You knew it was coming.”
“I know,” I whisper as we stand next to my parent’s door. “But still it was a surprise. I didn’t realize your period was almost six weeks ago... and you were drinking the other night. I figured... we’re such dumbasses, you know? I hope the baby’s okay.”
“I know,” she sighs. “My mistake with the liquor won’t happen again, and I’m not a dumbass. But, you can bet I’m getting shitfaced after the birth. Well, maybe after I finish breastfeeding. Can you drink while breastfeeding? Oh my God, I have so much reading and research to do. I better take a class too.”
This may be the turning point in my wife’s life, and if I’m lucky, mine as well. I’ve never been happier for her, for us, and what this means for our future. Oh yeah, and then reality has to fucking slap me across the face and take my smile away. It’s my father.
I’m taken aback to see he has the balls to answer the door like he did this morning. I enter the home with a straight face and shake his hand in a partial peace offering; placing my splinted fingers in my front coat pocket to hide my injury, and glad that Soph had time to cover the brush burn on my face with some of her makeup. My half-smile returns when I smell chicken coming from the kitchen. Home-cooked meals in my family are prepared with love and I’ve always been fond of watching my mother effortlessly create a meal. She has such a sense of style and grace; putting every ounce of herself into whatever she tries, and I’m referring to her life, not the kitchen.
My mother also has eccentric decorating tastes, probably a bit loud for some, with bright colors on the walls and furniture, antiques and art in every space, and oddities placed here and there as conversation starters; such as the life-size fiberglass horse in the entryway. My parents use it as a coat rack, and it startles even the most open-minded of guests.
“Oh Cove, darling. How handsome you look in that coat and tie this evening. All spiffed up, what’s the occasion on your day off?”
“You invited us over for a meal. I thought I’d go all out for my two favorite women,” I grin and plant a kiss on the cheek of my overdramatic mother, then give Sophia’s hand a secure squeeze.
“Sophia, you look fabulous as well. What have the two of you been up to today? Relaxing, I hope? I know it’s been a hectic week for all.”
“Yep. Chaotic and unsettling,” I respond as we enter the main room. “Looks like the two of you have also been relaxing today. I haven’t seen either of you in shorts since I was a teenager.”
She laughs and nods as we gather in their living room. “Your father and I took a walk along the Gateway trail today. It was pretty. You and Sophia should go down there soon and get some fresh air.”
“Will do,” I smile, thinking about how wonderful it will be to stroll along the trail with my wife and a baby. I see couples down there all the time, and I have to admit, I’ve always been a little jealous when I see the joy on their faces.
“Leondra, why don’t you get these two a glass of wine so we can toast to a new week. A more peaceful week,” my father requests.
Sophia grasps my hand, unsure if we should say something now, or what ‘til dinner.
“We’ll just have water, or whatever else you have that’s nonalcoholic. We both had a couple of badass days of drinking, so we’re pretty tanked out on the whole liquor thing right now,” I jump in with a quick excuse.
“Sure, sweethearts. Pineapple juice?”
Soph turns green from the thought of such a tart juice, especially after her morning of cranberry upchuck.
“Seltzer water?” I ask.
“Absolutely, why don’t the two of you have a seat and I’ll get you each a glass with some ice.”
“Good call,” Sophia whispers, taking a seat on one of the four blue sofas that are set in a square in the middle of the room. They surround an orange coffee table, and the entire set rests on a white deep pile rug. The room is bright, with the reappearance of the afternoon sun beating through the ten-foot windows.
Sophia takes a peek at a cat condo in the corner of the room then peers around the space for Lewis; her sweet Persian cat who my mother now claims is hers. My mother and the cat bonded while we were in Vegas, and she takes much better care of him then Soph ever did. Shit, she even buys him little leather jackets, and he has his own photo wall in the upstairs guest bedroom. Hundreds of photos on display, just of him. That’s what happens to people who don’t have any grandkids.
“He’s asleep in the bedroom,” my mother responds to her question on his whereabouts.
“Why don’t we step outside and talk for a while, son. Let Sophia and your mother have some time alone. What do you say?”
I nod, knowing that a conversation with him is inevitable, and the relief on his face when I agree is touching. Plus, I’m calmer now than I was yesterday. Some things take on a whole new perspective when a baby’
s on the way.
He closes the door of the terrace once we’re both outside then runs his hand through his hair; trying to calm his nerves. I watch my mother give Sophia a glass and she sets mine on the dining room table. She smiles at me in a warm motherly way; a look on her face she used to have whenever she was proud of me as a child. The same look when I got an A on a test, or gave her a flower I had picked from our yard, or told her that I loved her... it’s that look. I’ve called her ‘mother’ most of my life, but refer to her as ‘mom’ when I feel she needs sympathy or my loving support. It’s less formal, but more endearing.
“Dad, stop fucking running your hand through your hair, relax, or mom will know something’s up.”
“So you’re speaking to me?”
“Yeah, I want some answers. How the fuck could you do this to her? Look at that beautiful woman in there. Tell me she’s deserving of this? I said look at her,” my voice now hardened like my heart. “I’m not going to freak out on you and yell like I did at the station, but that doesn’t mean I’m not still upset.”
“I understand, Cove. And believe me, I’m ashamed and have been full of anxiety since it happened.”
“You mean since I found out.”
“No, since it happened years ago.”
“Then why the fuck didn’t you do anything about it? You ignored both Kaitlyn and Ivy. Jesus, I couldn’t imagine leaving someone high and dry like that... walking away from a woman and a child.” I look back at Sophia then at my father. “I guess I’m still naive about shit like this, even after everything I’ve been through. I’ve done some hellish things in my life...”
“Yes, like hit your wife,” my father cuts in, attempting to defend himself in some odd way.
“What the hell are you talking about? I’d never hit Sophia.”
“Your mother told me you did when the two of you first met.”
“That’s bullshit. It was a mistake, and I caught myself mid-swing. And, it’s been one of the biggest regrets of my life, besides, this conversation isn’t about me, it’s about you.”
“I took you to the place where you were headed. Everyone regrets something, son. You can’t go through life without making mistakes.”
“Bullshit again. I see what you’re doing. I fucked up, and you fucked up, and so everything’s okay? Let me remind you that I grew up watching Paul Jameson beat the shit out of people, he was in my life more than you were. He wasn’t the best role model, Dad.”
“And that’s your excuse... so here’s mine.”
“No, fuck that. Don’t tell me you have an excuse for this and compare my actions to yours. This is different. Fuck!” I pace and mimic the hand through the hair reaction that we both do so well. “Why are you being a dick? I wanted to speak to you calmly about everything, and you’re making me furious. Just answer my questions.”
“I’m trying to prove a point and make amends, and the only way I can think to do so is to make you realize that no one’s perfect. I screwed up and I’m sorry. The mistakes you’ve made and how they eat away at you is exactly how I feel, and I need you to understand that.”
“Goddammit. You’re playing mind games and changing the subject, and I don’t like it. You’ve never treated me like this before.”
“Cove,” he pauses and grips my arm to halt my back and forth strut on the terrace.
“One last chance,” I whisper. “And then this conversation is over for today. I don’t want to be upset during our meal. Not in front of Sophia and Mom.”
“I’m going to try and fix it now. I’ll repair the past. It’s the only thing I can do. I set up a time to meet with Kaitlyn, and she’s going to bring Ivy along so we can talk.”
“Like one big happy fucking family, right?”
“That’s not fair.”
“No, this isn’t fair, is it?” I watch my mother as she finishes setting the table and Sophia waves us inside. My heart pounds from our conversation, but also because of the announcement Sophia and I are about to make. I need to chill out and remember what’s important. My emotions are erratic. Excited and joyful one minute, yet angry and unforgiving the next. And there it is, Haverty’s voice popping into my head once again. Grow some balls, shitbag.
I sigh and walk to the door, longing for an escape I know I’ll never find. I turn and stare into my father’s eyes, searching for something... any kind of emotion that will lead me to forgive him. I see nothing as he gazes past me with an eye on my mother. Pain and regret, maybe, but he’s been hard to read lately. His face is drawn and wrinkled. I can tell he hasn’t slept, and I swear he’s aged a good ten years overnight.
“I told your mother about everything last night,” he whispers. “She said she already knew.”
He walks inside and I stand with my back to them, my jaw on the ground, watching the city come alive as nightfall is upon us. How does she know?
“Hey,” Sophia’s voice startles me as she sets her fingers on my shoulder. “You okay?”
“Yeah. A little rattled, but fine.” I place my hand on hers and pull her before me. “You mean the world to me Soph. I’ll never hurt you again.”
“Don’t make promises you know you’ll never be able to keep,” she replies in a playful tone, and yet I know she’s being serious as well.
“I can keep this one. You know I’m still pained thinking back to when we first met, when I slapped you. It was one of the worst days of my life.”
“You’ve had a lot of bad days, Babe. And I forgave you for that a long time ago. If it happened again I wouldn’t be here right now, you know that. I would’ve left.”
“Yeah, I know. But I’m still angry with myself...”
“Listen, if I recall correctly, I hit you too. Right?” she says.
“That doesn’t count.”
“Why? Because I’m a woman? Anyway, I don’t think we should ever talk about this again. Leave it behind. We have much better, and bigger, things going on in our lives right now,” she winks.
I give her a hug and watch as my mother gives my father a kiss. How long has she known about this? How can she kiss him?
“Women are in such a higher class than men. More sophisticated and fucking finer in all ways.”
She laughs and pulls me inside with flushed cheeks and cheerful eyes. “Ha, don’t ever forget it!”
I think her nausea has calmed down and it’s so nice to see her bubbly and excited about something. Now I think I know why she’s been so nice to me over the past week. It’s all about the baby.
We join my parents at the dining room table and my father toasts to calmer and happier days ahead. My mother places a roasted chicken breast on each of our plates, and we take turns passing bread and vegetables around the table.
My heart races in anticipation and I’m a sweaty mess. I whisper my plan in Sophia’s ear and she nods.
“The two of you are glowing today.” My mother flashes a big smile as she studies our faces.
“Sundays are good for recuperating after four long days at the Scarlett,” I say.
“Three of which you missed,” my father reminds me.
“Yes, I know. Sophia was there every day and I had other... anyway, we had a pleasant afternoon in the pool and were able to relax for once.”
I excuse myself and walk to the kitchen, take an extra plate from the cabinet, and put it between Sophia and myself. My parents continue their conversation with her, commenting on the humid weather and heavy rains we’ve had. They fail to notice that I’ve fixed a fifth plate of food. I stand a second time, take one of the extra chairs set against the wall, and place it between us.
Sophia and I lean back with our fingers interlaced and wait. I can tell by my father’s face that he gets it right away, but my mother takes a second longer.
“Cove, honey,” she looks at the plate, then at the empty chair. “What are you... do you need...”
“Mother, someone has decided to join us this evening for dinner,” I say with a huge grin as Sophia laughs.
“Oh my God!”
I’ve never seen my mother move so fast in her life. She jumps up and races around the table to give Sophia a hug, then hugs me, then Sophia again. With tears of joy in her eyes, she runs out of the room on an obvious mission. I shrug and wait.
My father stands and gives us both a hug while my mother flies back into the room. She takes a seat across from us with shaky hands, and opens a sheet of paper.
“Okay, you two. Number one, Wendell. Wendell Everton.”
“Mother, please. We have our own names for the baby.”
“Wendell?” Sophia laughs. “I’m sorry, I’m not naming my child Wendell. And what if it’s a girl? Wendell’s not a very feminine name.”
“Oh girl names! I have plenty of those. I know you’re thinking about unique names; Cove mentioned Ocean and Brooklyn, so how about Frosty?”
“Dear Lord,” Sophia places her napkin on the table and sighs. “Frosty? Frosty Everton? No way. That’s the name of a dessert.”
She doesn’t give up, and continues through her list with Sophia and I both shaking our heads at each name.
“Mother, stop. It’s too soon to pick a name anyway, and we don’t even know if it’s a boy or a girl. Let’s discuss this down the road, say, in seven months?”
“Oh fine. But I’m only going to keep adding to this list. Oh! Ambrose! That’s a good one. Both Cove and my husband’s middle name!”
Sophia looks at me and gives a slow nod of her head. “Okay, that one’s actually not so bad. You can keep it, but Cove’s right, we have a long way to go before we decide on a name.”
“The due date will be here faster than you think,” my father grins. “When is it, by the way? Have you figured that out?”
“The end of March or early April.”
“Oh, a spring birth. I love spring babies!” my mother cries out, unable to contain her delight. “I can’t wait until tomorrow, I’m going out to buy the baby so many wonderful things.”
“No,” Sophia and I say in unison.
“Mom, don’t go overboard. Why don’t we shop together, as a family, but not for a few months, alright? You’re jumping ahead of the game.” I think about Sophia’s cat and all the toys, beds, clothing, blankets, and treats he has... and he’s a cat. I can only imagine what she’ll do for a grandchild. Don’t get me wrong, it’s nice of her, but she’ll buy a pile of dresses because she believes they’re pretty, not thinking that it could be a boy. She’ll just go into a baby buying frenzy.