Without a Net

by Kimberly Cooper Griffin

  Meg laughed. “No worries.”

  Fiona dropped her head on the table and then looked back up. “Ugh! Dramatic change of subject. Is CJ your only sibling?” Fiona asked.

  “Yep. We’re twins. I call him The Little Prince. He hates it.”

  “You’re twins? Do you look alike? Are you very close?” Being an only child, she often wondered what it would be like to have a sibling, let alone a twin.

  “Most people say he’s a blond version of me—which he also hates. We used to be a lot closer. When we were little, we did everything together. But we started drifting apart in middle school. I was into sports and he had finally given up on them. In high school, I played on various teams and he got into partying. We moved in completely different circles. I think the sports thing was too much for him. He’s never said, but I guess it’s hard for a boy to be upstaged by his sister.” Meg’s eyes were distant as she talked about it. “It put a wedge between us. He started calling me dyke and lesbo when I’d leave for practice. It was before I even… anyway, he was cruel. It hurt, but I never said anything to anyone, because I knew it was because he was embarrassed about his lack of athleticism. When we got older and other kids said the same things to me, well, then he became my big defender. He couldn’t hit a ball with a bat to save his life, but he was vicious in a fistfight. No one better fuck—” Meg stopped herself. “Sorry. But, no one could mess with his sister.”

  “That’s for fucking sure.” Fiona laughed and winked at Meg in response to the blush creeping up her neck at the accidental slip.

  Meg laughed, too. “Things were a little better then. Even though he continued to call me names, no one else did.” Then her smile faded. “Until I told him I was going into veterinary school instead of law. I actually thought he’d be happy. No comparisons, you know? But he freaked. He was so focused on us doing the law school thing together. I think he intended to sort of coast along with me, like I would help get him through school or something. It was a bad time for us.” By the expression on her face, the memories looked painful. “He was such a jerk. Not just a jerk. He was mean. He’s still an asshole, but we get along better now. Probably because we don’t see much of each other anymore.”

  “It must have been hard for you.” Fiona wanted to hug her, but they hardly knew each other.

  Meg tapped the table. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to get so dark. It’s in the past. We’re grown-ups now.”

  “No need to apologize. It’s probably not a very good memory for you.”

  “Well, they say time heals all wounds, right?” Meg sat up and smiled. Fiona suspected it was her attempt to make the moment less awkward.

  “So I’ve heard.” Fiona thought she should try to remember that herself.

  “How about you? Any brothers or sisters?”

  “No. Just me. My parents wanted a bunch of kids, but my mom had complications when I was born. I was lucky she was able to carry me full-term.”

  “I’ll bet they dote on you, then.”

  “They did. They weren’t rich, but they tried to give me everything I needed and most of what I wanted. They stopped short of spoiling me, I guess. They were awesome.”

  “You use the past tense. Are they no longer around?”

  “They died in a car accident.” Fiona waited for the inevitable pity response. She hated it, but knew it was normal.

  “I’m so sorry. We seem to be hitting on some painful memories. I think I started it.”

  “It’s okay,” Fiona said with a small smile. “How could you know?”

  “I’m sorry anyway. When did it happen? If you don’t mind me asking.”

  “I was eighteen.” Fiona leaned back in her chair. “A drunk driver—one of my classmates, actually—sideswiped them and they went over an embankment on their way home from my graduation ceremony. Their car ended up in the river.”

  Meg looked distraught. “How horrible! I couldn’t imagine losing either of my parents, let alone both. I don’t know what to say except I’m so sorry.”

  As usual, Fiona felt removed from the story of her parents’ deaths. The hardest part in telling it was the whole exchange of sympathy part of it and people feeling sorry for her. Especially Meg, it turned out. But even so, for some reason, Fiona wanted Meg to know. “It was hard for a while, but I buried myself in school, which helped. I also saw a therapist to support me through it.”

  “Have you been on your own since then?”

  “Kind of. I was getting ready to leave for college, so my life was on the brink of change anyway. It sort of kept me from dwelling on the loss. I spent most of the summer in Thailand, then college started shortly after I got back. As an undergrad, I stayed with my Aunt Cornelia for the summers and most of the holidays. Aunt Corny was my mom’s aunt. I had always been close to her. She didn’t have any of her own grandchildren and I had always stayed with her a part of every summer as a kid. She tried her best to make me feel as if her home was my home.”

  “You talk in the past tense about her, too.”

  “She died last year, right before I graduated from law school. She had a massive stroke. No warning. She had always been so healthy and vibrant. I thought she’d live forever.” Fiona’s voice trailed off and she cleared her throat. “I’ve only recently gotten to the point where I don’t cry when I think about her. I took her death harder than I did my parents’. Makes me feel guilty.”

  “Why? You feel what you feel, right?”

  Fiona shrugged. “A therapist said I was channeling the loss of my parents into the death of Aunt Corny. She said expressing pain and feeling pain are different things and I might have felt safer expressing Aunt Corny’s death because I wasn’t as close to her as I was to my parents. You know—all that psychobabble stuff. I get it, but I hate talking about it. I don’t know why I’m telling you all this. You’re probably thinking it’s time to run for it.” Fiona tried to laugh, but it came out a little forced.

  “Not even remotely. If it makes you feel any better, I’ve seen my share of therapists.”

  “Have you lost someone?” She realized she was prying. “You don’t have to answer.”

  Meg waved her hand as if to dismiss the thought. “I don’t mind. I’m grateful I haven’t lost anyone close to me. I saw a therapist to help go through the whole coming out process. I think you’ve probably figured out by now that I’m gay. I hope it doesn’t bother you.”

  “Not at all. Why would it bother me? I’m gay too. I thought you might have guessed.”

  Meg looked amused. “It crossed my mind, but I never assume.”

  “I’m told it’s a guessing game with me.” Fiona relaxed into her chair. She felt a stronger connection with Meg at the new information. With it came an underlying sadness, though. Under different circumstances this might have been the start of something more for them, but there was too much at stake for her to act on the attraction she was feeling. She sensed Meg was feeling it, too. “I have no gaydar whatsoever. It would be cool if we had a secret signal, don’t you think?”

  “It would certainly help.” She made a show of looking Fiona up and down. “But, I usually have impeccable gaydar.”

  Fiona snorted. “Like I said, most people can’t call me at first. Plus, with all the pregnancy horm…” She slapped her hand over her mouth and sat up. Her dinner suddenly sat heavily in her stomach. She bolted out of the room and barely made it to the bathroom in time.

  As she hung her head over the bowl and cursed her weak stomach, she wiped her mouth with a hand towel. She glanced at the door, which was wide open. Great. She stood weakly and quietly closed the door. Had she really blurted out her secret to Meg and then treated her to the disgusting sound of her puking her guts out?

  26

  Meg stood planted beside the table in the dining area, unsure of what to do. She wanted to help, had even jumped to her feet when Fiona darted away, but she was
paralyzed in place by uncertainty and stunned by what Fiona had said. Pregnant? Meg started across the living room and hesitated outside of the closed bathroom door. She heard the water running and waited a moment before saying anything. She knew some people hated it when others tried to help them. Was Fiona like that? They had a connection, but Meg was very aware she hardly knew her. She decided to do what felt right.

  “Do you need anything?” She asked through the door.

  “I’m fine. Be out in a sec,” Fiona called out. Meg suspected the brightness in Fiona’s voice was forced since she’d just heard her throw up. She was hovering outside the bathroom but she didn’t know what else to do. She was wondering if she should leave when Fiona opened the door, looking everywhere but at her.

  She backed up a step to let her pass.

  “Are you okay?” She berated herself for the stupid question as she trailed Fiona back to the living room.

  “I’ll be fine in a minute.” Fiona gave her a weak smile, as she folded herself into the corner of the sofa and hugged a throw pillow to her chest. Fiona’s glassy gaze was such a contrast from her smiling eyes of just a few moments ago.

  Had she heard right? It wasn’t unheard of for lesbians to get pregnant, but given the obvious biological limitations, it was usually a well-thought out plan and Fiona didn’t look like she was particularly happy about it.

  Not knowing what else to do, she fetched Fiona a glass of water.

  “So… you’re pregnant?” She handed her the glass and moved over to the other end of the sofa to sit sideways, facing Fiona. It seemed rude to ignore the elephant in the room.

  Fiona didn’t answer at first. Meg could almost see the thoughts tumbling through her mind, trying to decide what to say and what not to say.

  “I found out last Friday,” Fiona said at last.

  A crush of thoughts careened through Meg’s mind. The first and loudest, she was ashamed to admit, was a caution to distance herself from the situation. After all, she would be leaving for Seattle soon. Fiona needed stability and Meg had nothing to offer in the way of help. As her mind tried to sort through the excuses, Meg’s heart could only see Fiona, looking small and lost.

  “How far along are you?”

  “Exactly eight weeks.”

  Meg took note of Fiona’s certainty regarding the date of conception. And was that rancor in her voice? Meg wasn’t about to ask her if the baby was planned or if she was happy about it. Something told her the answer was no to both. Or maybe she had planned it and her partner had somehow fallen out of the picture leaving Fiona in a bad position. Regardless, she wasn’t going to ask.

  “How are you feeling?”

  “Physically or emotionally?”

  Meg was glad to see her color was getting better. “I meant physically, but both, I guess.”

  “Tired. Hungry. Embarrassed.” Fiona pulled the pillow tighter to her, covering half of her face.

  “Embarrassed?”

  Fiona sighed deeply. She looked at Meg for the first time. “Look, I didn’t mean to blurt that out. I probably seem like a psycho-emotional shitstorm right now, but I haven’t even thought this through yet. I’m not sure I’m prepared to bring you, or anybody else, into… my issues. We barely know each other, for Christ’s sake. You don’t need this.” Fiona’s voice grew soft as she turned away. “I don’t even know how to talk about it.”

  Meg paused a moment before she replied. It sounded like some of her suspicions were on target.

  “I understand. You’re right. We just met. I like you, though. And I’m kind of trapped here right now, what with my laundry in the middle of a rinse cycle and all.” Meg smiled and shrugged toward the hall where they could hear the muffled sound of the first load spinning in the washer. The sound abruptly stopped and they looked at each other. Meg was happy to see a small smile play around the corners of Fiona’s mouth. “We can talk about other things until the laundry is done. Or we can sit quietly. Whatever we do sure beats sitting among the discontents at the laundromat.”

  They fell silent for several moments. It was an easy silence, as the pressure of expectation had been eliminated. Fiona seemed to relax a bit.

  A small meow floated into the quiet room and they both moved forward to peer into the box. A bond had been forged between them over the kittens, and Fiona’s situation didn’t seem to factor into it, at least for the time being.

  Fiona stood up. She seemed mostly composed now.

  “I’ll get the kittens fed. Why don’t you transfer the laundry? Then you can teach me that pooping thing.” Fiona threw the pillow she had been hugging at Meg, who caught it with a laugh.

  27

  Fiona prepared the bottles and took them back to the living room to feed the kittens. Meg was transferring the laundry, and to Fiona’s relief, she was starting a second load. Fiona thought she might have made a run for it as soon as the puke show commenced, but their new friendship was a bright spot in the midst of a dark time and, selfishly, she wanted to preserve it. At least she wouldn’t have to figure out a way to tell Meg about being pregnant now. It would establish the distance she needed to keep and they could hang out a little. That is, if Meg didn’t run away after she processed the info, which was still a possibility. Fiona was thinking about the possibility when Meg sat on the floor next to her and watched her nurse the first kitten.

  “You look like you’re a pro at feeding now.”

  Fiona enjoyed the compliment, especially since Meg was the real pro. “It took a bit to get the hang of it.”

  “The kittens are enjoying it.”

  “Really? They don’t purr or anything, and I can’t tell if they’re getting enough. I keep feeding them until they pull away—or fall asleep, which is more often the case. Like this little guy.” Fiona laughed when the head of the kitten she was holding simply dropped away from the tiny nipple.

  “You’re doing fine. They’re purring, you just can’t hear it yet. Give them a little while, then it’ll sound like a broken toy engine until they smooth it out.”

  “It’s so weird to me. I always imagined newborn kittens to be more… advanced. Like they are in the pet store.”

  “Pet store kittens are between six to twelve weeks old. These ones will be doing all the advanced stuff soon enough.”

  A monster yawn hit Fiona but her hands were full, so she yawned into her shoulder. She laughed. “Sorry. It’s not your company. I promise. Snuggling with the kittens makes me tired. Actually, I’m tired all the time. I hear it’s natural for a woman in my condition.”

  “Oh, speaking of which. One of the no-nos for a woman in your condition is litter boxes.” Meg used her fingers for air quotes. “I guess you’re off the hook about pooping the kittens.”

  Fiona hoped her relief wasn’t too obvious. She placed the last kitten back in the box. “To be honest with you, I wasn’t sure I was going to be able to do it anyway. I have a healthy gag reflex.”

  “It isn’t very gross. I’m going to do it in the bathroom where it will be easier to clean up. You can watch from a distance if you want.” Meg unplugged the heating pad so she could take the box into the bathroom.

  “If it’s okay with you, I think I’ll stay out here.” She felt a little guilty about letting Meg do it. “Is it rude to pawn it off on you?”

  “It’s fine. I’m used to this kind of thing. All I need are cotton balls and a clean towel.”

  Fiona fetched the things Meg needed and left them on the counter by the bathroom sink.

  “You kids have fun in here. Give me a shout if you need anything.” Fiona backed out of the room. She hoped Meg didn’t take her up on it. Just the thought of it made her want to gag.

  28

  “Potty time went well. Now it’s time for night-ni…” Meg’s voice trailed off. Fiona was curled up against the arm of the sofa, fast asleep. She put the box down and covered her wi
th a throw blanket from the back of the recliner. Fiona didn’t stir—not even when Meg gently lifted her head and pulled the magazine out from under her cheek. With great care, she lowered Fiona’s head, pausing a minute to push back a strand of hair and watch her sleep.

  She considered the situation. The kittens would probably wake up in two to three hours for another feeding. Fiona was obviously exhausted. There were a couple more loads of laundry to do. She decided to stick around and see how the next feeding went. If Fiona was up for it, she would leave. If Fiona seemed like she needed help, she’d be there to lend a hand.

  She slipped her sketch pad out of her laundry bag and settled into the nearby recliner. There were worse things she could be doing on a Friday night than hanging out with a new friend and a box of cute kittens.

  29

  A ribbon of early morning sunlight slipped between the drawn curtains and sliced across the otherwise dark living room. As the sun rose, the beam slowly slid across the room, until it rested directly across Fiona’s sleeping form. Fiona threw an arm over her face to block the light and turned her head away. Always quick to wake, the tickle of light was all it took to bring Fiona out of the mists of sleep. She stretched and opened her eyes. Wincing from a crick in her neck, she was surprised she was on the sofa. She didn’t remember lying down or getting a blanket the night before. Carefully pushing herself upright and rubbing the tight tendons of her neck and shoulders, she looked around the shadowy room. A form lay in the recliner across from her. The steady sound of breathing told her Meg was sleeping.

  She rose quietly and crossed the small living room, glancing into the box where the kittens slept. They were cuddled in a furry pile. She stood for a moment and watched Meg sleep, enjoying the opportunity to study her openly for the first time. Fiona noted Meg’s long, dark lashes resting on her cheek, and how her shoulder-length hair parted slightly to the left. A pulse beat slowly at the base of Meg’s throat, and Fiona’s gaze lingered there, before it traveled down to Meg’s hands. Her fingers were long and graceful. One held a pencil between relaxed fingers, resting atop an open sketchbook in her lap. Fiona could see part of a drawing. It was of her, sleeping on the couch. Fiona wanted to lift Meg’s hand to get a better look but she didn’t want to wake her. She studied her sleeping guest for several minutes before her full bladder forced her to back away.