Not for the first time, she thought about how her decision didn’t affect only her. Fiona stared at the journal on the table and wondered how she would tell Mike about the pregnancy. Would it matter if she decided to get an abortion? Would she tell him if she did?
“Hey, Fi. You look like you’re deep in thought.”
Fiona looked up, startled, spilling a few drops of her coffee over her hand.
“Mike! Hi!” She wiped her hand on her skirt. The print would hide the stain.
Mike laughed and grabbed a few paper napkins from a dispenser on a nearby table. “I didn’t mean to scare you. I thought you saw me.”
Fiona accepted the napkins he offered and laughed, too. She got up to give Mike a quick hug, which was stiff and awkward on both of their parts. Fiona sat back down.
He pointed at the door with both hands. “I’m going to zip in and get a cup of coffee. Do you want anything? More coffee? A scone? A clean skirt?”
She laughed again. “No, thanks. I’m good.”
Fiona watched him through the window. He shifted from foot to foot as he waited in line and chewed on his thumbnail. She’d seen these same quirks when they’d studied for tests during law school, and they’d gotten bad when he was going through his thing with Charlie. He was nervous. God. Her news was going to knock him for a loop. Her own nervousness spiked at the thought. How was she going to do it? While she struggled with the question, Mike came back.
“So, how have you been? You look radiant, as always.” He slipped into the chair across from her.
“Lots of change, a few surprises.” The nuance seemed to pass over him undetected. He didn’t ask what she meant.
“Yeah. I know what you mean. Same here. Have you seen anyone since May?”
He said anyone, but he meant Charlie. She could tell. The hopeful look he always had when Charlie came up was glimmering in his eyes.
“I’ve seen Maureen and Josh a few times.” She hadn’t seen Charlie since the night at the bar, and wouldn’t tell him even if she had. She had nothing nice to say about him. “Everyone’s so busy. You missed Josh by five minutes. He was on break so I only got to talk to him for a couple minutes. He said to say hi.”
The hopeful glimmer blinked out and Mike sagged into his chair. “I feel like I haven’t seen anyone in so long. With work and studying, I’ve been pretty busy. How is Josh?”
“Good. Hating his job, as usual, and something mysterious is going on with his love life, but otherwise, same old Josh.”
Mike sipped his drink. “And Maureen? She’s called a few times but I’ve been awful and haven’t called back.”
“She thinks you’re depressed. You should call her.”
Mike played with the lid of his frozen mocha. “Yeah. I will. I had to, um, clear up things with you first. You know?”
She almost laughed. There was no clearing up some things. Some things left an indelible mark no matter how you addressed them. Speaking of addressing, how was she going to tell him their single pathetic encounter had gotten her pregnant? Now that was a mark that wasn’t—
“Earth to Fiona.”
She looked up from his drink. “Huh?”
“I asked what you’ve been up to since I last saw you.”
“Sorry. I, uh, well… I’ve been swamped with work.” She couldn’t bring herself to tell him. “I accepted the position at Threadlocke and Guernsey, the same place I did research for.”
“I knew you’d stick with T&G. It’s a great firm. Have they given you any cases yet?”
She nodded. “I’ve actually gone to trial on a couple of them.”
“I have dreams about going to trial.” His voice was wistful.
She touched his wrist. “You will. Have you signed up for the next exam?”
He nodded. “I’ll take it as many times as it takes to pass. I was born to be a lawyer.”
Fiona sensed his uneasiness was starting to fade. Maybe she’d wait to tell him after they’d had some time to feel normal with each other.
“You must be in study group hell.”
He played with the condensation on his cup. “It’s not so bad. The group isn’t as fun as ours was, but they’re committed and I get a lot from it.”
“What else have you been up to?”
He paused so long, she began to think he might not answer.
“Well, I don’t want to jinx it, but Charlie called me.”
She studied his face. He stared at his drink. “Oh yeah?”
“He wants to meet up and get a drink or something one of these days.”
“Mmm hmm.” She couldn’t help but roll her eyes. “Or something.”
He glanced up. “Stop. It isn’t like that.”
Fiona bit her tongue. She knew it wasn’t like that for Mike, but it’s all it had ever been for Charlie.
“Did he break up with the woman he was with?”
He frowned. “Jenna? No, but I think it’s just a matter of time.”
“Do you?”
“It’s only a drink, Fi .”
“Mike…” she said dragging out his name.
“What?” He peeked up at her and looked away.
“Is it simply a drink for you?”
“Yeah. No. Yeah. No. Well, it’s all it can be.” He looked like someone was flicking a switch in him from ecstatic to woebegone over and over again. “He’s moving back home at the end of the summer anyway. So, there’s that.”
“Will you be miserable seeing him if all he wants is a booty call?”
He looked like he was giving it serious thought, then he raised his hands and shrugged. “Probably. But I can’t help it. I can’t not go.”
“I get it.” She wanted to say more, urge him to protect his heart, not let himself get hurt, but she didn’t. It was his business.
“Well, I’m glad we met up.” He changed the subject. “I was worried we weren’t going to be friends anymore. I’d die if we weren’t.”
“Me, too.”
He seemed almost like his old self sitting there across from her. He was relaxed even as a balloon of dread expanded in her stomach. As the pause lengthened, the balloon got bigger. She had to tell him, but it was as if there was a physical barrier in her chest preventing her from saying the words. She shifted in her seat, but still couldn’t speak. She shifted again and leaned forward, but the words remained out of reach. She sat back and then leaned forward again.
“Have to pee?” he asked with a laugh.
“I’m pregnant,” she responded.
At least she thought she said it. She wasn’t quite sure because the pounding of the blood in her ears was the only thing she heard and Mike was sitting there like a statue, the expression frozen on his face. She began to think time had stopped somehow and only she knew it. She lifted her hand to test the theory. Her hand lifted and everything else stood still. She suddenly felt like she was having an out of body experience except she was in her body. Then the smile dropped from Mike’s face and was replaced with a confused expression. A hollow laugh followed.
“I thought I heard you say—” He didn’t finish the sentence.
She cleared her throat. “I’m pregnant.”
He sat back and gulped. It was one of those kinds of gulps people did in the movies. It would have been comical if her heart wasn’t beating out of her chest. “I think I’m supposed to say congratulations?”
“Well—” she started.
“But, you’re a lesbian,” he interrupted.
Seriously?
“Or have you decided you’re bi?”
“I’m not—” She was getting exasperated.
“Was it because we—”
“Maybe if you let me finish a sentence I can explain.”
“How far along are you? You don’t look pregnant.”
She sq
uinted her eyes at him. He should know exactly how far along she was.
“I’m sorry. I’m just so surprised.”
A normal reaction at last. He was taking it better than she expected.
She laughed. “Yeah, well, me, too.”
“Wow.”
“I know.”
“Do I know the guy?”
“What?” She was confused.
Mike put his hands on the table. “Is it a rude to ask? I haven’t seen you date any guys. Unless you went to a sperm bank or something. Did you? I see the look on your face. I’m being nosey. I just haven’t…it’s…um, sorry. I need to shut up.” He sat back in his chair.
She stared at him. Could he really be so clueless?
“Mike, I haven’t been with any guys.” She didn’t want to say, “except you”, and remind them both how pathetically embarrassing it had been between them. “And I haven’t gone to a sperm bank.”
“Well, I’m not an expert at how this works.”
“You don’t need to be.”
He put out his hands. “It’s cool. You don’t need to go into detail.”
Again, she stared at him. How was he not getting it?
“What? I’m sorry if I’m not responding right. I don’t know what you want me to say. Wait. Were you expecting me to be jealous? I’m not. If that’s what you’re worried about. Just because we—” he waved his hands between them. “We both agreed it was a mistake and I—”
He stopped talking and his face went pale. He chewed the corner of his nail. He stared at her stomach.
She ducked her head to catch his eye.
He pulled his finger out of his mouth. “It’s mine.”
She nodded.
He made a choking sound, got up, and walked away.
18
“Bad news. The woman you were flirting with seems to have another boyfriend. Or maybe she’s dating them both.” Betty whispered into Meg’s ear as Meg handed her another paper cup with an order and a name scrolled on the side.
“What are you talking about? I wasn’t flirting with anyone.” She knew exactly what and who Betty was referring to, but she hadn’t been flirting with Fiona, who was now sitting out on the patio. She didn’t make a habit of flirting with women who were with other people. She wasn’t rude. “I was being friendly. You should try it sometime,” she teased.
Betty put the metal steaming pitcher under the wand and shot Meg a look over her shoulder. Meg laughed and took the next order. She enjoyed working with Betty. She hadn’t been sure she would, but Betty was fun.
Meg hadn’t been flirting, but she kept sneaking glances toward the patio. There was something about her. Yes, she was attractive. But there was something else. Maybe it was because she knew her from her uncle’s coffee shop. It didn’t matter. She seemed interesting. Meg wanted to know more about her.
“You’re staring at her.”
Meg handed Betty another order.
“I know her from somewhere.”
“Your fantasies?”
“No. From The Artful Bean.”
Betty stopped what she was doing. “Oh, I need to know more. Is “bean” a metaphor for something naughty?”
Meg shot her a look. “It’s my Uncle’s coffee house in Ithaca, you perv. I saw her there months ago.”
Betty frowned. “That just became decidedly less interesting.”
Meg watched Fiona hug the guy who had joined her on the patio. All the cute ones were straight. She sighed.
19
In all of Fiona’s imaginings, she never expected he’d leave like that, without a word or a discussion. It was a relief actually, even though she knew they’d have to talk about it sometime. She took a sip of her coffee. The drink was cold now, and she considered going back in to get a refill. She looked over her shoulder into the shop, where the pretty barista was waiting on a customer. As much as Fiona wanted to talk to her again, she dreaded the chaos it caused within her. Instead, she opened her journal and began to read the last entry in the book.
Aunt Corny is right. Life goes on. Fuck my life.
She cringed. Trite barely described what she had written. What a load of crap! She closed the book and pushed it away from her. A jumble of thoughts filled her head, none coherent enough to follow for long. She put her chin down on her folded arms and shut her eyes. The light flickered through her eyelids as the leaves on the branches gently swayed above her. She tried to clear all thoughts from her mind.
With her eyes closed, the sounds around her became more distinct. She heard the door of the coffee shop open and close, and the ever-present background sounds of the city flowed around her. She listened to an inane conversation going on at a table several feet away. A car drove slowly by. The sounds were soothing.
She was finally starting to relax when a faint and unexpected sound caught her attention. She cocked her head toward the origin and listened intently, eyes closed. There it was again. The sound was high-pitched and familiar, and it was coming from the alley. It sounded like the mewling of very young kittens. Curious, Fiona opened her eyes. She listened again, then rose from her chair, leaving her coffee and journal on the table, and walked over to the mouth of the alley to investigate.
Street smart and typically leery of any alley, Fiona noted she was able to see quite clearly into the short, dead-end space. It sloped down slightly and ended at a shallow loading dock with doors on either end, one going to the coffee shop. Short flights of concrete steps with rusty handrails led up to the scratched and dented metal doors accessing the two businesses. Although it was a little musty and damp smelling, it was clean, as far as alleys went. With the exception of two ancient and rusted metal dumpsters covered with graffiti and a stack of flattened cardboard boxes next to the dumpster closest to her, the space was empty.
Fiona stepped into the shadowy space between the buildings, and the shrill cries grew louder. She moved toward the brick wall and peered behind the boxes on the ground. Sliding the top box a few inches to the side to let more light through, revealed a small group of tiny kittens lying in a mound on a piece of cardboard close to the dumpster. They were so young that their eyes were sealed closed.
Fiona looked around the alley, but the mother cat was nowhere in sight. She moved to the other side of the boxes and kneeled near the wall to get a closer look. From this angle she could see six of them all bunched up in a black and white heap. She had never seen kittens that young before. One kitten, all black and bigger than the others, pushed its siblings around, rooting for food.
Movement out of the corner of her eye caused Fiona to look up. A skinny black cat with white markings was crouched near the entrance to the alley, warily looking at her. A slack belly and distended nipples told Fiona she was looking at the feral mama cat. Fiona froze in place next to the wall. Her hamstrings soon began to protest the position, but she didn’t dare move, lest she scare the cat away.
Mama cat inched closer, poised to flee at any movement. Fiona barely breathed as the cat approached. She lost sight of it as it crept closer to the other side of the cardboard pile, and she almost screamed in surprise when the cat leapt onto the boxes before moving quickly between Fiona and the kittens. The cat nudged the kittens together with its nose and the mewling of the kittens became frantic as they vied for position for the closest available nipple. The cat squatted protectively over her brood, never losing sight of Fiona, and slowly dropped down and allowed the kittens to nurse. In the comparative silence, the cat and Fiona gazed quietly at one another, and when the cat flicked its tail and blinked a few slow blinks, Fiona rested against the brick wall. The cat relaxed enough to lick her paws and groom her babies. Fiona lost track of time as she watched the simple, but magical, process of the cat tending to her young.
A door opening on the landing above them broke the quiet, followed by the loud crash of the door slamming closed, whic
h echoed through the alley. Whoever it was couldn’t see Fiona crouched on the other side of the dumpster. Before she could stand, the heavy lid of one of the dumpsters slammed open against the brick wall behind it. The noises frightened the mama cat, who sat up, suddenly alert. Fiona stood up, but not before another crash of something falling into the nearly empty dumpster rang out. The mama cat stood quickly, took a few steps away from her kittens, and then returned to stand over them in a protective crouch. She flicked her tail and twitched her ears in keen awareness. The crash was immediately followed by the sudden clatter of the lid falling shut. All the noise proved too much for the nervous cat, which leapt up in fright. In disbelief, Fiona watched as one of the kittens, latched onto a nipple, was dragged halfway across the top of the flattened boxes, before it lost its grip and fell off and the mother cat bolted from the alley. It all happened so quickly.
Fiona heard the door to the alley slam shut again. Whoever it was probably had no idea what they had caused. She moved toward the squirming black kitten, wondering what she should do, and then horror descended on her at the sound of screeching tires out on the street. Her heart leapt into her throat. In the ensuing silence, she knew it was the frightened cat.
Fiona ran to the street. The first thing she saw was the driver, a pale, middle-aged woman, stepping shakily from her car. Things weren’t looking good. Fiona turned her gaze in the direction the woman was looking. The cat was lying against the curb near a bus stop across the street. It wasn’t moving. Fiona ran over and crouched next to her, gently stroking the cat’s side. The cat’s eyes were open, but there was no response. Anxious, she jiggled the cat. There was no reaction, not even a twitch of her tail. The driver of the car approached, and Fiona looked up, unsure what to say. It wasn’t the woman’s fault. It wasn’t anyone’s fault. But Fiona was angry. The driver stared at the cat, with a hand cupped over her mouth, the other clenched to her chest, tears streaming down her face. Fiona’s anger subsided, replaced with enormous sadness for the woman.
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