The Anchor

by B. N. Toler

  The silence that falls after my admission is almost deafening as my words hang heavy in the air between us.

  “You know, Nikki,” he sighs. “This wasn’t my plan either. My plan was New York. My plan was a job most lawyers would kill for. But plans change.” He shakes his head and refuses to look at me. “I know it’s been a rough go, but I know I’m trying to do everything I can to make it better. I’m trying to move here. I’m trying to love you . . . if you’d just fucking let me. Our original dreams may be gone or pushed aside for now, but if you would just chill the fuck out and stop pushing me away . . . stop resenting this situation, maybe . . . just maybe, we can build a better dream together.”

  I know I’m being selfish and stupid. But I hate how he just laid it out in front of me. “And what dream would that be, Parker? Me, at home with the kids while you work long hours and end up fucking your secretary because you don’t want me all flabby with stretch marks after I give birth to your child, which made you give up your dream?”

  Parker rolls his eyes, apparently finding me ridiculous. He opens his mouth to respond but stops when we hear someone giggling. We both whip around to find Jenn leaned up against the building, smoking a cigarette. “So Nikki Reese is preggers,” she snickers. Flicking her cigarette away, she pushes off the wall and sidles up to Parker.

  “And it’s yours,” she states. Parker’s brows rise.

  “As a matter of fact, it is, Jenn,” I seethe. “So back the fuck up because this one,” I point to Parker, “belongs to me.” I should be institutionalized at this point. I’m nothing but a long stream of ridiculous notions and contradictions. He is mine—at least for now he is—no matter how ridiculous I’m behaving.

  Her eyes widen but she’s still smiling. Apparently she thinks I’m ridiculous too. “That’s too bad.” Her gaze moves away from me and slowly lingers longingly up and down on Parker; her look saying everything her mouth isn’t. I begin to step toward her, my anger having gripped me by the backbone, pushing me, when Parker moves forward and stands between us. Jenn giggles and saunters back inside as Parker tells me to calm down.

  “She is such a bitch,” I grumble.

  “She does it to get to you . . . and you let her,” Parker points out. We stand in an awkward silence for a few moments, neither of us knowing what to say. I know he must be thinking I just sort of did the same thing he did inside with Dierk, but is wisely not saying so. Staking a claim on him is new territory for me.

  “Can we just go home?” I huff, mentally exhausted by the entire day.

  “Yeah. John gave me the keys to his car. Let’s go.” The ride home is silent, unbearably so. I know I’ve played a large part in how shitty today has been, but so has he.

  As we pull in the driveway and park, Thinking Out Loud by Ed Sheeran starts playing on the radio. When I move to exit the car, Parker grabs my hand and stops me. “Don’t move,” he tells me. He climbs out quickly and rounds the car until he’s opening my door and pulling me out. I huff when I realize what he’s doing. How am I supposed to stay mad at him when he does things like this? Sliding by me, he bends down and climbs halfway in to turn the radio up.

  “I don’t feel like dancing, Parker,” I murmur when he stands straight again and holds his hand out to me.

  “I know you don’t. And I know it’s because it’s been a really fucked-up day. My mother used to say no matter how bad of a day I’ve had, I should try to end it on a good note.” He scratches his head and sighs. “I’d like to dance with the woman I’m falling for.” Shifting my weight from foot to foot, the gravel of the driveway crunching lightly as I move, I grow quiet and look everywhere but at him. Is he serious? After all the horrible things I just said, he’s falling for me? I feel fucking horrible.

  The pessimist in me wants to say no to the dance and continue to pout. And give him a hard time when I know that’s wrong and immature. He grabs my hand and holds it. “Tell me what you’re thinking.”

  I respond without looking at him. And the pessimist wins. “I’m thinking that we’ve only just started and I’m already exhausted.”

  “No one said it would be easy.” He squeezes my hand, but I still can’t look at him. If I look into his eyes I’ll fold, and right now . . . I don’t want to fold. “Dance with me, Nikki,” he whispers, but I pull my hand from his and cross my arms. This time I look at him. And I hate what I see. His mouth is in a hard, flat line and his throat bobs as he swallows. He shakes his head. “Never mind,” he mumbles and moves to climb back in the car to turn the radio off. I hate myself right now. Why can’t I give as much as he does? Why can’t I let myself put it all on the line for him like he does for me? I know deep down if I let this moment pass, it will mark us. I don’t want that.

  “Wait,” I say, grabbing his arm and pulling him back. His dark eyes meet mine and his mouth curves only a fraction; it’s a sad smile.

  This time, I hold my hand out and ask, “Dance with me?” I take a deep breath and add, “Please.”

  His eyes dart away and for a second I think maybe he’s changed his mind. Maybe I’ve pushed too hard today; too much. But then his gaze returns to me and he steps slightly toward me. I’ve been an angry, emotional mess all day. But the moment he pulls me into his embrace, all that fades. He’s holding me tightly, the strength in his arms speaking to me in a way maybe he can’t just yet. He’s holding me as if the very act will block out the world and keep me only to him, keep us inside a bubble where we’ll stay happy and all our wishes will come true. And in his strong embrace, I feel . . . him. I feel his worry and fear. I sense his hopes and ambitions. I feel his uncertainty. But mostly, I feel his love. But love should feel euphoric, blissful. What I feel is sadness—loving me hurts him. And as he moves us, my head pressed against his chest now, his heart beating loudly against my ear, another wall begins to crumble. And I know that I must love him, too. Because the thought of making Parker Hayes sad hurts me deep inside.

  “Don’t give up on me, Parker,” I whisper as a fresh tear trickles down my cheek. He doesn’t respond and I’m not sure if it’s because he didn’t hear me, or maybe he just couldn’t respond. What am I doing to him?

  Later, after we’ve climbed into bed, he makes love to me. Every word he breathes against my skin, every touch, every kiss, I feel the ache inside of him and it intensifies my own. I hold him close as he moves in and out of me, fighting the urge to cry again. I don’t understand myself. How can I want someone so much and be so afraid of them at the same time? After we finish, utterly exhausted, he slides down my body and kisses my tiny bump.

  “Your mommy is scared right now,” he whispers. “She thinks I’m going to run away or hurt her. But I won’t. I promise. No matter how hard she tries to push me away, I’ll always push back. I love her and I love you, and the two of you are all that matter to me in this world. And when she sees you for the first time, she won’t be scared anymore. And we’ll be a family.” He kisses his way back up my body and when his lips find my cheeks wet with tears, he gently wipes them away.

  “I love you, Parker,” I weep, running my hand across his scruffy cheek.

  And even though the light of the moon seeping through the windows into the room is faint, I can see the softest of smiles on his face.

  “Fucking beautiful,” he whispers and kisses me again.

  I start the new week more determined than ever to push back my anxiety and really give “us” all I’ve got. Before Parker left yesterday, he used John’s computer to draft a lease between him and Edie for the house. Edie insisted it wasn’t necessary, but Parker could not be talked out of it. The lease is for a year and Parker made a deposit and paid the first two months’ rent.

  No lease was needed. A simple verbal agreement and a handshake would have sufficed, but I didn’t argue with him. If he needed this to feel better about the situation, then so be it. Parker refuses to let me paint so Joey has stepped up and committed to painting at night after work.

  Fucking Joey. He’s so dam
n sweet.

  While the painting is being done, I’m not allowed in the house, per Parker’s rules. He really is a bossy asshole sometimes, but I dig it. Yesterday I called Adele and asked if she’d like to meet and do some shopping. She was ecstatic and we agreed to meet today.

  We’ve been to five antique stores and made several purchases and now she’s dragged me into a maternity clothing store after I complained about my pants being too tight. I think I’m going to hyperventilate.

  I’m sliding hangers off shirts to the side, pretending to be looking, when really I’m trying to talk myself out of a panic attack.

  “These are cute.” Adele holds up a pair of jeans with a belly band.

  “Oh . . .” I mumble, trying to look interested. “Those are cute.”

  She smiles as she places the jeans back on the rack. I’m busted. “Is this the first time you’ve been shopping for maternity clothes or anything baby related?”

  My cheeks heat with shame. I have avoided anything that could even be remotely associated with the word baby. “Yes.”

  “It’s okay that you’re scared, honey. Hell, it’s even okay if you’re mad about having a baby. You weren’t planning on this.”

  My mouth opens in shock. “It makes me sound like a monster.”

  “No, it doesn’t. Many women have nervous apprehensions such as yours. But Nikki,” she smiles softly, and I see Parker in her, “when you see that baby for the first time . . . you’ll wonder how your heart is capable of containing so much love.”

  My hand rests on my bump and I try to conjure this emotion she speaks of, but all I get is the feeling of dread. I’m going to ruin this kid’s life. I end up forcing myself to buy a few cute tops and jeans. I skip dresses as the weather is cooler now and I doubt I’ll wear many. After we have lunch, Adele hugs me tightly and kisses my cheek.

  “I gotta get home to Allen. He’s been a little under the weather this week.”

  “I’m sorry to hear that. Tell him I hope he feels better soon.”

  She smiles and hugs me tightly again. “Now you take care of yourself and call me if you need anything.”

  “Thanks, Adele. I had fun today,” I say.

  “Me too, honey.”

  The next day, after talking myself into it for ten minutes, I slip on my new maternity jeans and gaze at myself in the mirror. I’m a long way from being a beauty queen these days, but damn if these jeans aren’t comfortable.

  Something changed between Nikki and me during my last visit. Or maybe something just changed in me. I jumped into this hopeful and determined. I knew we could make this work despite her issues. Her fears have always been at the forefront of my mind, but I refused to let them stop me. I’d prove to her that we could do this. But last weekend, doubt settled inside of me and I started to wonder if we really could work out. Every time we’ve been together, she’s come out of the gate seemingly happy and ready to give it her all, but then she throws a wrench in it. And I can’t help but wonder if maybe a part of her, however small, is purposely trying to sabotage us.

  So I’ve been privately stewing for the past two weeks. I won’t give up. I can’t. Not yet anyway. I’m a fighter. And lucky for me, I was offered a job in Knightdale. And I’ve taken it as a sign to stay the course. It also helped that when I called to inform Nikki about the job offer, she was elated. And some of the doubt I’ve been feeling ebbed.

  “You don’t have to come up here and help me pack. I don’t really have much,” I tell Nikki from where I sit in my cubical, the office phone pressed between my shoulder and ear as I shove papers into a manila envelope. Since giving my two weeks’ notice, my employers have been working me like a two-dollar hooker on half-off Sundays. I can’t find a minute to myself.

  “Maybe I just miss you and want to see you,” she argues and I have to admit, it feels really fucking good to hear her say that.

  “It worries me—you flying in your condition and all.”

  She chuckles softly. “You’re sweet. But the doctor said I’m safe to fly until around six months.”

  “It still worries me,” I grumble.

  “I get an ultrasound at the next appointment. We might be able to find out what it is.” The tone of her voice sounds off; too high by a few octaves. It’s like she’s trying to sound excited, but not quite hitting it. Even though she’s still dealing with anxieties, I’m stoked.

  “Really?” It’s definitely not hard to hear the excitement in my voice. “I’d like to be there.”

  “I’d like that, too.”

  “So when do you land tomorrow?”

  “Eight.”

  “I’ll be there. I gotta go, babe. I’ll call you later.”

  “Okay. Have a good day.”

  When I hang up, I smile at the phone. Maybe we really can do this. No sooner than we hang up, my cell rings. Maddie lights up across the screen.

  “Sister,” I answer.

  “Asshole,” she replies. “How could you not call me and tell me you not only have a girlfriend, but she’s pregnant, too?”

  “Shit,” I mumble as I run a hand down my tired face. “I’ve been really busy, Maddie.”

  “Don’t give me that. I’m your sister!”

  “Look, I’m sorry. But I’m at work and I’m super swamped right now. Can I call you later?”

  “Yeah. I guess. But you better call me or I’ll hunt you down and kick your ass.”

  “Wouldn’t want that,” I jest. “I’ll talk to you later. Love you.”

  Before she has a chance to respond, I start to hit the end button. Just as I’m pressing it, I hear her say, “Parker! Have you heard from—” And the line is dead.

  I’m not going to lie. The last weekend Parker and I spent together started off perfect and ended pretty shitty. I feel like I’m split in two right now. There’s a part of me that wants to push him away, protect myself from what I’ve always told myself would happen if I ever fell for a guy, but then there’s the other part. That part that loves the way Parker makes me feel. The way he always needs to touch me whether we’re riding in the car or sitting at the dinner table. And I love how even though I’m more scared than I’ve ever been in my entire life, he somehow grounds me and keeps me steady. Just like he promised.

  Since he gave his notice at his current job, he’s been busy with tons of work, and when he hasn’t been working, he’s been exhausted. But tomorrow is his last day and Sunday he’ll be moving to Holly Springs. He thinks I’m flying in tomorrow, but I’ve decided to surprise him by flying in tonight. Well, we’ve all decided to surprise him. John and Edie are coming too.

  By the time we get to the apartment, it’s already past six in the evening and Parker isn’t there. John still had his key from when he lived here with Parker months ago so we are able to get in and settle a little. Seven o’clock rolls around and there’s still no sign of him.

  “Should I go get some dinner for everyone?” John asks from where he’s seated on the leather couch, thumbing at the screen of his phone.

  “God, yes,” I groan. “I’m starving.”

  “Chinese?” Edie suggests.

  “That sounds amazing,” I agree. “I want beef lo mein and chicken fried rice.”

  John laughs. “Anything else?”

  “Oh . . . spring rolls,” I add. “For the baby, of course.”

  “Of course.” John grins. “You ladies stay here. I’ll run out and grab it.” He hops up, grabs Edie, and bends her backwards as he kisses her passionately, then stands her up, smacks her ass, and leaves.

  I can’t help giggling a little. “You guys crack me up.”

  Edie’s blushing. It’s adorable. “Why don’t we start working on his closet?”

  “Sounds good.” Grabbing one of the cardboard boxes Parker must have gotten at some point, we tape it up and Edie starts packing his clothes while I go through the drawers. In his nightstand drawer, I find a photo of him with his arm wrapped around Maddie. I recognize her from the photos Adele showed me the ni
ght Parker introduced me to his parents. It’s not hard to see Parker adores her. I know he’ll be an excellent father. My heart sinks with the thought. I know he’ll be good, but I won’t. The truth is I’m not good enough for him or this baby. I don’t deserve them. I hate these feelings. I want so badly to just . . . be happy. Placing the photo on the bed, I push down the negative feelings. Everything is going to be okay. I will be happy. We will be happy. When I glance back to the drawer, I grimace. There are enough condoms to cover a whole crew of sailors that just arrived at port. Picking up a handful, I stare at them blankly, unsure if I should be bothered by him having these or not. I mean, they’re probably from before we got together officially, right?

  “Good Lord,” Edie says, from behind me. When I look back at her, still holding the handful of condoms, she must read the millions of questions running through my mind from my facial expression.

  “Those have to be from before you guys got together.”

  “There’s like a hundred condoms in here,” I point out.

  “Yeah. That’s a lot,” she surmises quietly. “But they’re from before you guys agreed to be together,” she reiterates.

  Shaking off my insecurity and ever-present pessimism, I scurry into the bathroom and bring the trash bin back. “You’re right,” I agree, even though I’m not quite sure I do. Why wouldn’t he have gotten rid of these by now? And why does he have so many? Was he having that much sex before we got together? I decide to keep my mouth shut, attempting to avoid one of Edie’s lectures on my asinine amounts of negativity. Edie helps me scoop out the taunting prophylactics and toss them. Then she takes the bin back to the bathroom.

  “Now that that’s done, get your ass in the closet and help me,” Edie orders. “I have no idea how to pack suits.”

  “Hey,” I laugh. “Watch your fucking mouth when you’re talking to me.”