by W. Winters
“I’ll get the dishes,” I offer. “Go lie down and put something on the TV.”
The light from the black iron chandelier above the table reflects off her hair as she stands up. It gives her the look of an angel.
“I can get it. I’m not useless, you know?” she answers with a simper and the glint in her eye turns soft and tempting.
The gray walls and sleek slate-colored chairs with expensive fabric look cheap compared to the way Laura looks right now, standing there in a simple silk chemise.
“Get your ass on that sofa.” To say it’s a demand would be comical, but she obeys, giving me a view and when she turns, I get a good look at her little bump.
The click and light of the TV turning on are followed by dull sounds of channels flicking and by the time I’ve cleaned up and made my way to her, she’s nestled under the chenille throw, a pillow propping up her head as she lies on the end of the sofa, leaving me room behind her to spoon.
Just how she likes it. Which happens to be how I love it.
Just the sight of her like that, knowing she’s all mine right now, makes me eager to feel her body pressed against mine.
I’ll never not want her. There isn’t a day in this life that I wouldn’t be drawn to this woman.
She peeks up at me as I slip behind her on the sofa. All of her soft curves molding to mine and warming every inch of me.
As she snuggles against me, she holds up the remote to the TV, flicking through the channels without actually waiting to see what’s on the screen.
“What are we watching?” I ask her, sneaking a small kiss on the crook of her neck. Her eyes close and the corners of her lips slip up. I love it. I love the way she reacts to something so small.
The moment she opens them, she shrugs and sets the remote down, leaving the TV to play an old cartoon although the volume is so low, I can barely hear it.
“You’re going to be a good dad, you know that?”
She picks nervously at the end of the throw and I don’t answer her until she looks back at me. “You will be.”
If only.
“You’ll tell me if I do something wrong, won’t you?” I play it up, wanting her to be happy, needing her not to have a worry in the world other than what flavor of ice cream she wants tonight.
“I would say that you won’t do anything wrong… but you totally will.” Her brutal honesty does nothing but make me smile, which in turn puts a grin on her face and I swear it’s the first time everything has seemed right all day. That sick feeling inside that haunts me, warning me that nothing is all right is silenced by the way she looks at me.
Pulling her body close to mine, my forearm against her front and her back against my chest, I live in this very small moment for as long as I can.
When I kiss the crown of her head, she hums a sweet sound, my favorite sound.
“I wanted to talk to you about a few things,” Laura says just beneath her breath and then gently turns in my arms. I have to loosen my grip some for her to get settled right.
“What about?” I ask her, knowing damn well whatever she’s going to bring up, she’s been thinking about for days.
“I think I may quit… or go part-time.” She stares at the dip in my throat as she talks. As I answer her, she rests her pointer against it before dragging it up my neck and back down. I stare at her all the while, from the curve of her neck to the tip of her nose. How every feature of her is utterly gorgeous.
“You never have to work if you don’t want to.”
“I don’t know what’s best to do.”
“Whatever you want to do, I will be here. I will support you. And I will love you regardless of your choice.” That’s what I tell myself every night. To love her, to stay with her. Because it’s all I want back from her. If that happens, we’ll be okay.
When all of this is over, we have to be okay. That’s the bottom line. I won’t survive if we aren’t together.
Or if she doesn’t love me anymore. So I’m careful. Careful not to do anything that will push her away.
“I mean it,” I tell her adamantly, waiting for her gaze to meet mine. “Whatever you want to do.”
“Thank you,” she whispers and then her breath hitches. The next question is muffled as it comes out, like it didn’t want to be asked. “Can I ask you something?” She’s quick to follow it up with, “I don’t want to upset you.”
As she clears her throat, looking down at my chest again rather than into my eyes, I nod and say, “Of course, ask me anything.”
All of the innocuous questions she could have possibly asked are nothing like the one she utters.
“Did my dad die quick?”
I’m gutted by her question. I can’t speak for a second, I can’t do anything but stare down at her as she tries not to cry.
Her inhales are deliberate and even as she says, “I just wanted to know. I’ve been thinking about him a lot, you know?”
The memory of him on his knees in front of me is a flash in my eyes and I’m grateful she doesn’t look at them for fear the reflection in them would give it away.
“It was fast,” I answer her as evenly as I can. “I’m sorry.”
“Just a shot to his head?” she questions further and it fucking kills me. “Did he know?”
“He knew. When he got there, he knew.” I don’t know how she can lie here with me during this conversation. It makes me feel like that much more of a bastard.
“Right and then it was fast.” She keeps picking at the blanket, staring at my chest as her shoulders move gently up and down with her even breathing.
“It was. He wasn’t greedy. He was…”
“He was stupid,” she answers for me, with no resentment or emotion. Just simply matter-of-fact. “He never should have been a part of that life.”
I want to agree with her, but I’m afraid to speak at all on it. It’s not my place.
“He used to tell me all sorts of things he shouldn’t.”
I’m grateful she hasn’t pulled away. I’m thankful she doesn’t break down either. But damn does it hurt. “If I could go back and…”
She peers up at me, her eyes darker, wider, swirling with a knowing truth as she says, “It wouldn’t have changed it, would it?”
With my throat tight, I shake my head and hold on to her tighter.
“He just didn’t think it through. His mouth would move before his brain. Grandma said it too. She worried for him because he couldn’t keep his mouth shut.”
“I’m sorry.” It’s all I can say.“That’s who my dad was.” She keeps talking, although it’s as if she’s talking to herself rather than me. Her gaze firmly set on my shoulder this time, her finger trailing along the seam of my t-shirt. “A know-it-all who didn’t know a damn thing and a man who ran his mouth faster than he himself could run.”
“There were good parts to him,” I offer her, remembering her father. “I wasn’t around him often, but when I was, he loved to make jokes. He liked for other people to smile.”
Her hand pauses and worried, I gaze down at her, only to see a small smile gracing her lips. “That’s true. He did like to make other people happy.”
“He did.” Picking up her hand, I kiss her knuckles.
A long moment passes, the comfortable atmosphere dampened and the irony of childhood cartoons playing in the background only adds to the somber effect.
“Thank you for still loving me.” I don’t know how I’m able to speak with the way every part of me dies inside. What I did was unforgivable. I stole from her in a way no one had a right to. And yet here she is, letting me hold her and soothe the pain I caused.
“He wasn’t the best father, but he loved me.”
“He did.”
“Promise me, Seth, that you’ll love this little boy.”
“Our little boy,” I correct her and then kiss away the tears on her cheek.
“Yes,” she says and smiles through the pain. “Promise me you’ll love him always.”
&n
bsp; I hate the way she’s talking right now. Maybe she thinks I don’t see through her words. To the very idea that she’s planning a life for me and for our little prince without her. I won’t let it happen. I can’t.
I can’t live without her.
“Always. I will love you and our son, and all of the other little ones to come, forever.”
“I love you forever,” she whispers, tilting up her chin and brushing her lips against mine. It’s the way she used to do it. She’d say she loved me, then kiss me, so when I didn’t say it back, it was okay. Like she’d silenced me and not as if I was deliberately holding back.
I pull away from her, breaking the tender kiss and stare into her baby blues as I say, “I love you forever and ever, Babygirl.”
Laura
I can’t have wine. Which is my normal go-to for stress.
And just the thought of carbs makes me want to puke. So my junk food choices are a no go. My mind races whenever I try to nap, even though I’m exhausted as all hell.
So what’s a girl to do? Shop.
“We are buying all the things. Every single thing,” I state comically as I toss another blue binky into the cart. “I didn’t realize they were called pacifiers,” I comment as I read the back of another package. This one contains a binky with a little blue airplane on the front and even comes with a strap to hook it onto a onesie so it doesn’t get lost. How smart.
“What? What did you think they were called?” Bethany questions and I shrug. “I’ve only ever heard it called a ‘binky.’”
She’s still busy reading the side of a bottle warmer. It’s the third one she’s picked up. None of them seem to be good enough and I’m not sure what deems them unacceptable.
“You know you can’t get everything on your own. You need to have a shower so we can get you stuff too.”
“And who exactly am I going to invite?” I almost say Melody, just to jokingly name a patient, but then the last time I saw her comes back to me, along with a chill that silences me.
“I think…” Bethany starts to answer me but she’s distracted by another box, which she picks up to examine then puts down. She pushes the cart down the aisle further and I walk with her, resisting the urge to grab every bath toy on the display wall as we go.
For noon on a Wednesday, the Buy Buy Baby store is practically empty and it’s just us two. “You know, I think it would be good if you met the other girls,” she says and finally looks at me, standing still with both hands on the handle of the cart.
“Other girls?” I question and she pulls her gray shimmery sweater up her forearms and bunches it just before her elbows. It is a little hot in here, after all.
“You know, Aria, Chloe, Addison.”
The wives of the Cross brothers.
“Oh,” is all I can answer. I’m shocked, to be honest. And then a little petrified. I got out of the life. I know Seth comes with it. But this is different. Things are different now. Aren’t they? Loneliness and longing are two emotions I didn’t expect to feel at that thought. “Is that because you and Jase are… you know, a real thing now. Like for real, for real?”
“For real, for real.” Her cheeks get fuller when she smiles. Every time I mention his name, she smiles like that.
“I think you’d really like them and Aria… last night she did a reading for me. And I picked a card for you. She said you’re not supposed to and it doesn’t work like that. But I think it fit you well.”
It takes me a moment to realize by reading she means tarot cards.
“What card?” I ask her even though I turn my attention to a pile of baby blankets. I run my hand along them, but I don’t really feel them. Just the thought of the Cross brothers and those women gives me pause. But if they’re a part of Seth’s world…
“The three of cups. She said it’s the card of sisterhood.”
I turn to her with a smirk and say, “Sisterhood?” She only nods.
“Look, they would love you and you would love them, and,” she stops and sighs like whatever she has to say next is a given before continuing, “if I have to be around them, so do you.”
A single laugh comes from deep in my chest and makes me smile.
“Well then—” I start to answer her, but that’s when I feel it. “Oh my gosh,” I say as both of my hands fly to my lower belly. Very low, close to my hips. And he does it again.
“What? What is it?” Bethany’s voice is riddled with unease until I smile the widest grin I’ve had in weeks.
“He kicked.” I take her wrist as she gapes and gently put her hand right where mine was. I’m careful as I do it, worried he’ll stop. The anxiousness keeps me on my toes, holding my breath until Bethany squeals, “He kicked!”
He kicked. My grin stretches all the way across my face. My baby kicked for the first time in a baby supply shop, right at the start of aisle ten. I never want to forget this moment. The smile genuine, the happiness and relief so very real. This is what it’s supposed to feel like. It’s what normal women must imagine when thinking about being pregnant.
No matter what happens, I got to have this moment. With my best friend hugging me, and my baby safe and healthy. I’ll be forever grateful that I at least got to have this moment.
“One cup of coffee, two cups of water.” The waitress looks at me like I’m crazy for about half a second before she corrects her maybe-seventeen-year-old face.
I’m tired as all hell and if I need a cup of coffee… well then I need a cup of coffee. My doctor said a cup is fine as long as I drink water constantly and it might help me with other issues I’m having too. The headaches, the lack of being able to go to the bathroom.
The second the waitress, I think she said her name was Angel, turns away from us and moves to the next table, Bethany tells me, “I am taking off for the next one.”
“It’s on Thursday.” Because I’m high risk, I have to go in for stress tests constantly.
“I’m going to miss you at work, so I want to come along.”
“I’d love that.” With both of my arms folded in front of me and resting on the table, I try to pick an item on the menu that calls out to me. The menu is printed on paper with a checkerboard pattern and the tabletop is red lacquered. It fits the ’50s feel of the place.
The linoleum floors and pleather bench seats do too.
There are a lot of yummy smells in the Bells Diner but one thing in particular smells divine. “I’m actually craving something,” I mumble and when Bethany asks me what, I can only shrug. “I’m not sure what. But something…”
That gets a laugh from her and although I hate to interrupt the happy day with one little thing, I have to do it. Better now than later.
“I have something to ask you,” I say and tap my finger on the menu, no longer searching for my Goldilocks dish, fidgeting with a ring on my middle finger. It’s a rose gold ring with a white quartz stone and flowers on the edges of the band… little daisies. Cami gave it to me a long time ago and I rediscovered it last night when I went looking through things as I packed them up to take to Seth’s place. He hates it when I call it that. It’s our place now. I could roll my eyes at that all day long. I’ll make it ours, but right now it’s his place with a bunch of my boxes and things in it. Like this ring. An old friendship ring she told me once that was supposed to guard us from bad things. I didn’t wear it for the longest time, thinking it had done just the opposite.
“If I die, will you take care of him?”
The thud in my chest is nothing compared to what I feel every night. I won’t feel better until he’s in my arms. That’s simply the way it is. The unknown isn’t just uncomfortable, it’s scary as fuck. And it’s weird between Seth and me without knowing for certain that there’s a backup plan. A “just in case” plan. I can’t talk about it with him though.
The shock on Bethany’s face is temporary. It morphs into something more mortified but then solemn.
The cords in her neck tighten as she averts her gaze but starts to
say something.
“Here you go.” Angel, our waitress, interrupts us. The cups hit the table one by one, the waters, coffee, and a latte for Bethany, and then she asks us if we need another minute to look over the menu.
“We do, please,” I answer her quickly and pray that when she scuttles off that the only thing Bethany will say is, of course.
“What about Seth?”
That’s the last thing I wanted her to ask.
“I don’t know how he’ll react if I… he’s been very emotional lately. I worry about him.” My hand travels to my lower belly, and I wish my little prince would kick again. “I just need to know that our baby will be all right. I can’t imagine… I just can’t see him dealing with me not being there and also having a baby dropped in his lap.
“It will be hard for him to keep it together,” I explain calmly, rationally. There are no tears when I say it out loud. Because I know it’s a true fear of mine. If I die and Seth is left with a helpless baby... If he breaks down, our little boy is going to need someone there.
“I’m just coming to terms with the fact that a heart may never come and I don’t know that Seth will be able to take care of him on his own, at least in the beginning.” I don’t know that I’m describing this right. I’ve been too busy picking at my nails to realize Bethany is silently crying.
“You aren’t allowed to cry. We’re in public and we aren’t drunk,” I mock scold her emotional reaction comically. I hate to see her like this. It hurts a piece of me that’s always wounded. The part that knows I can’t help that one day, I won’t be there for her. For my baby boy. For Seth. One day, I won’t have them and they won’t have me.
“They’re going to need you. I need you there for them. Both of them.” This feels like the last piece of the puzzle. Seth doesn’t know it, but at least I’ll feel more at ease.
“I know that you’re just planning.” She toys with the fork on the table as she talks. Breathing in deep, she finally looks back at me and says, “I promise if you… if something happens to you,” I don’t miss how she doesn’t say, if you die, “then yes, I will make sure your baby boy is safe and happy and lives the best life a little boy could.”