She tried to hide her irritation with him. “Mike, I promise I’ll tell you what I decide.”
“Don’t you want to talk about it?”
“Truthfully? No.”
He made a frustrated sound. “I think this should be a joint decision, don’t you? Shouldn’t I be allowed to have some input on this?”
She wanted to tell him she probably would have talked it out with him if he weren’t being so self-centered about it, but then it occurred to her—was she being the same way? It wasn’t the same, though, was it?
She sighed. “What do you want to say about it that you haven’t already?”
“Uh…”
She waited for him to continue.
He made an impatient snort. “Nothing. Only that I want us to have the baby.”
“Us? And what would your role be in it?”
“I’d be the dad,” he said, as if it were obvious.
“And how do you see your role playing out?”
He paused. “I’m not sure.”
“Hmmm…” Exactly what she thought he’d say.
“How do you see it playing out?” he asked.
Her response was immediate. “You see, I don’t. Ever since I was a little girl I had my life planned out before me. I was going to be a lawyer. I was going to live in the city, have a cool apartment, and never once did a kid factor into this.”
“Plans change, Fi.”
She could see it was something he understood. After all, his dream of being an attorney had taken a brief pause while he prepped for the next exam. Maybe he was trying to take control of something. Too bad she wasn’t going to let him. “Yeah. I get it, Mike. But this is a big change. One I’m not sure I want to make.”
His tone changed. He must have thought she was entertaining the idea. “Well, maybe you should think about it.”
She sat forward and rested her elbows on her knees. She was done with this conversation. “I’ve been doing nothing but thinking about it, Mike.”
“Well, try to think about what it might be like if you went with your plans, but there was a baby involved.”
She sighed. “Again, how do you see it playing out? I mean between you and me? Are you expecting us to become a family or something?”
He paused. “Kind of.”
What? “Seriously? You think we’re gonna get married and forget who we are?”
“God, no!”
She sighed with relief. “Then what do you see?”
“Maybe some sort of shared thing.”
“Fifty-fifty? Like you have it for a week and I have it for a week?”
“I don’t know, exactly.”
“Or maybe you want to be a weekend daddy?”
“I’m not sure.”
“Figure it out, Mike. How do you see this going?”
“I don’t know!” He sounded exasperated. “All I know is I want to have some sort of role in the baby’s life. I want to be a dad. I don’t know how good I’ll be, but I want to try.”
“I see. But you want me to take care of it mostly, right?”
“Well, I don’t know anything about babies. You’d probably be better at it than me. Maybe when it’s a little more self-sufficient I can take it more often.”
She fought the urge to hang up. So, she’d be doing all the work. “I think we’re getting ahead of ourselves here. I haven’t decided to keep it yet.”
“Just promise me you’ll talk to me first.” He pleaded. “Please, Fi. Promise me.”
“I have to go now.” She hung up the call without waiting for him to say goodbye and dropped her head into her hands. She hadn’t heard Meg come into the room, but she felt her sit next to her. A warm hand rubbed her back. The comforting warmth made her want to cry.
“I heard you talking. Do you need anything?”
She wiped her nose. “I’m okay.”
Meg took her hand. “Was that him on the phone? The father?”
“Yeah.”
“It sounds like you haven’t worked things out yet.”
“Not even close.”
“Well, come back to bed. It’s the middle of the night.”
Fiona let Meg lead her back to the bedroom where they crawled back into bed and assumed the position they had been in before Fiona had gotten up to go to the bathroom. Fiona once again thought about how easy it was to be around Meg. She was mulling it over when she fell back asleep.
38
Meg woke to the sound of cardboard brushing against fabric. When she opened her eyes, Fiona was holding the box of kittens, trying to back quietly out of the bedroom. She looked gorgeous in the light streaming through the cracks between the sheer curtains of the high bedroom window.
“Sorry. I tried to be quiet,” Fiona whispered.
“No worries.” Meg yawned and stretched herself awake. The tank top she’d worn to bed had pushed up to below her breasts, and she noticed Fiona breathe deeply and look away. Meg smiled and languidly completed her stretch before she pulled the shirt back down. “I think I was about to wake up on my own anyway. What time is it?”
Fiona rested the box on her hip. “Seven-thirty. Breakfast is almost done. Do you like biscuits and gravy?”
“Love it.” Meg sat up. “I like the gravy on the side, though. Otherwise, the mushy bread kind of grosses me out.”
“I’m glad you told me.” Fiona grinned. “I have a feeling you would have politely gagged down mushy biscuits.”
“Probably.”
“I’m worried about the kittens.” Fiona nodded at the box. “When did they eat last, do you remember?”
“About five this morning.” Meg guessed, since she’d blearily stumbled through the last feeding without checking the time. She was glad to do it, but the kittens had woken up several times in the night. “They should be fine. Besides, they’re healthy. You can let them tell you when they need to eat.”
“How many times did you feed them last night?”
“Let’s see.” Meg held up her hand to count on her fingers. “I fed them at nine-thirty, again around midnight, then at one, three, and five.”
Fiona put her hand on her forehead. “I slept through all of that? God, I’m such a shit!”
“You have plenty of justification for sleeping through it. Besides you need your sleep.” Meg swung her legs over the side of the bed and stretched again. Fiona looked away again and she remembered she was wearing only white bikini panties for bottoms. She reached for her shorts.
Fiona focused on the kittens in the box. “It doesn’t seem quite fair. You lost a lot of sleep, you know, between my drama and the kittens.”
“I’m okay with it. Really.” Meg stood and pulled on the shorts. “The kittens should usually go longer between feedings at night, but they’re probably responding to the energy.”
“You must be wiped out, though.”
Meg walked over and took the box from her. “I’m fine. I don’t have to work today, so I can nap if I need to.”
“That makes me feel a little better.” Fiona led them into the living room. “How about I feed the little monsters while you eat?”
“Deal!” Meg’s stomach growled as the scent of peppery sausage gravy and fresh baked biscuits assailed her senses.
39
“This is awesome!” Meg took another bite of her biscuit. She was sitting at the table and Fiona was on the sofa, tucked against the overstuffed arm, feeding the kittens. They could see each other over the back of the sofa.
“Thanks.” Fiona smiled. “They were my dad’s favorite. I remember wearing a dishtowel as an apron, standing on a chair, helping my mom. She’d roll the dough out and I’d press out the biscuits with the biscuit cutter.”
“What a great memory.” Meg took another bite. “Your mom and dad sound like they were good people.”
&nb
sp; “They were.” Fiona’s eyes suddenly stung with tears. Her feelings were always so close to the surface these days.
Her phone vibrated on the table next to her. A glance at it said it was a text from Mike. Irritation replaced the previous bout of sadness.
Hey, Fi. Seriously. Don’t make any decisions without me. K? I deserve to be part of this.
Seriously?
She frowned and turned the phone over without responding.
“You doing okay this morning?”
Fiona looked up from her phone. Meg was watching her.
“Um, what?” She shook her head. “I mean, yeah. I’m good.” What had they been talking about? She couldn’t remember.
“You suddenly look pissed off.”
God. She so did not want to talk about Mike right now. She’d woken up in such a good mood. She’d slept really well and waking up next to Meg had been beyond nice.
Her phone vibrated again. She wasn’t going to look at it. Screw Mike. He didn’t get to tell her what to do.
“There it is again. You’re frowning.” Meg continued to eat her biscuits, but she looked worried.
She didn’t want Meg to be concerned about her, to feel responsible for her. She waved at her phone. “Mike texted. I don’t feel like talking to him right now.”
Meg nodded. “You have a lot on your mind. Do you want to talk about it?”
She normally wouldn’t want to talk about it, even with someone as safe as Meg—not about such a personal decision. But she’d woken about an hour before Meg, thinking about the phone call, and for once, her thoughts hadn’t been all over the place. She’d gotten up and taken her journal out to the living room to write down what she remembered of the conversation, along with some of the emotions and questions it had elicited. When she’d finished writing, she had names for many of the feelings that had eluded her for so long. The emotional release of the night before had washed away the fear of being overwhelmed, and a huge sense of relief started to fill her.
She opened up.
And it felt so good.
She told Meg about the phone call, the night she’d gotten pregnant, and Mike’s reaction when she told him about the pregnancy.
All of it.
When she finished, she fell into an uneasy silence, having never opened up so completely to herself, let alone another person. She was exhausted and exhilarated at the same time.
She pushed her hair back self-consciously. “As ridiculous as it sounds, I have never once re-evaluated my life plan since the day I decided to become a lawyer at fourteen years old. Seriously. Never once. I’m following a plan made by a fourteen year old. Regardless of whether I keep the baby, I guess I should spend some time figuring out if I need to re-evaluate that plan.”
She’d finished feeding the kittens while she talked and got up to wash her hands in the kitchen. Meg followed, taking her dishes after eating every last bit of the biscuits. They went back to the living room and plopped down on the couch.
Fiona rubbed her eyes. “Sorry for the emotional and verbal vomit. I’m not used to spilling my guts to people.”
“You’re exhausted. It’s not surprising. You’ve had quite an emotional roller coaster the last few days. Part of me wants to keep you company today so you don’t feel like you’re alone, but another part wonders if you need some time to yourself.” Meg sighed. “You’re probably sick of me by now, anyway.”
She put her hand on Meg’s leg. “Weirdly enough, I am not even close to being sick of you. It’s probably the other way around.”
“Not at all. I enjoy hanging out with you.”
“As much as I want to ask you to stay and hang out with me today, you’re right. I need to figure out what my next steps should be.” She watched the kittens sleep. “Can I call you later?”
“You better.” Meg stood up. “Thanks for breakfast. It was delicious. I’m going to the park for a run and I’ll probably do some painting when I get back. My roommate said something about going to the river to watch the fireworks when it gets dark. But call me whenever you want to. I’ll have my cell.”
“I forgot today is the 4th. My days are all out of whack.” She walked Meg to the door. “I don’t want to interfere with your plans.”
“You wouldn’t be interfering. I’d love it if you came with us.”
Fiona didn’t want Meg to leave, even though she did need to do some more thinking. And probably take another nap. “I’ll let you know later, okay?”
Meg stepped out onto the doorstep. “Sure. Give me a call if you need anything.”
“You’ve been so good to me.”
As Meg turned to go, something overtook Fiona and she grabbed her hand. Meg stopped with a bemused look on her face. Fiona didn’t know how to express the swirl of emotions roiling inside of her. Instead, she threw her arms around Meg and held on like she was drowning. Meg seemed to sense what she needed and held her tight.
Reluctantly, Fiona let go after a few minutes, but she could have stayed like that all day.
Meg smiled. “Call if you want to go with us tonight. I’d love it if you did.” Then she took the steps up to the street two at a time.
40
Meg squinted into the sunlight, buzzing from the hug. Her body hummed everywhere their bodies had touched, especially her hands, which had rested on the bare skin of her back. Her smooth, soft skin. It had taken everything inside her to resist letting them wander.
Thank goodness for the lighter than usual holiday traffic, because her distraction could have been dangerous as she jaywalked across the street to her building. It wasn’t even nine o’clock and the thin fabric of her T-shirt was sticking to her back by the time she entered the air-conditioned building. With all the energy coursing through her body, she decided to get a run in before the heat and humidity of the day had a chance to fully descend upon the city. She couldn’t imagine hanging out in the solitude of her room right now.
Thankfully, the apartment was silent when she entered, and she went directly to her room. Regardless of Aunt Vi’s “don’t ask, don’t tell” relationship with Sherri, their relationship had become increasingly volatile as Sherri grew less tolerant of Aunt Vi’s wandering eye. Meg was in too good a mood to deal with it this morning. All she could think about was holding Fiona.
It only took a few minutes for Meg to get ready and head back downstairs. She stopped on the steps outside the building to stretch before she began a slow jog toward Morningside Park, a few blocks away. One benefit of the heat was how quickly her muscles loosened. She soon fell into a comfortable gait. The route she took was a favorite. Nice and shady in the morning, it ran along Morningside Drive, through Morningside Park, down to 110th, where she crossed over to Central Park.
When she first considered staying in the city for the summer, Meg had dreaded running along what she imagined would be gray city streets. She had been happily surprised to find the location of Vi’s apartment made for pleasant runs, through parks and paths along the Hudson River, which were only a few blocks in the other direction.
Usually hyper-vigilant when she ran in the city, the light traffic and easy pace lulled her into a daydream. Her mind drifted toward the night before, when she’d slept beside Fiona. She’d intended it to be a purely protective gesture, but the soft warmth of Fiona’s body had resulted in a decidedly different effect. Realizing she was going down a mental path she shouldn’t, Meg took a minor detour through a sprinkler to cool herself down. Back on the sidewalk, and dripping wet, Meg laughed at herself and picked up her pace.
By the time she arrived at Central Park, Meg had achieved a pace she could sustain for the duration of her run and she was feeling good. Easily navigating the curbs and barriers at the northwest entrance to Central Park, she disappeared into the shady paths taking her to the reservoir and back. Fueled by the possibility of seeing Fiona later and running in the s
hade of the foliage in the park provided her with seemingly endless energy. The contrast of city and nature was profound in her thoughtful state. She looked forward to going back to the open landscapes and brilliant greens of Seattle at the end of the summer, but she was going to miss the surprise of nature in the middle of a concrete landscape.
Dripping with sweat, and on an endorphin high from her run, Meg shut her bedroom door and plopped down on the edge of her bed to kick off her shoes. Her cell phone rang. Hoping it was Fiona, she was slightly disappointed when it was her mother calling. She considered letting it go to voicemail but answered it instead. She fell back across her bed.
“Hello, my mother. How are you doing this bright and sunny Sunday morning?” She smiled into the phone.
“Hello, daughter. I’m glad you’re enjoying the sunshine. It’s gray and overcast here. The forecast predicts rain today. No fireworks this year.”
“Believe it or not, I miss the Seattle rain. What has you up at…” She consulted her watch/pedometer on her wrist, “…not quite nine a.m. Pacific Time? I thought Sunday was your basking day. You shouldn’t be up for another hour, at least.”
Her mother sighed. “Unfortunately, as I get older, I find it harder and harder to sleep in. I can’t stay asleep past eight anymore. I do miss the basking.”
She heard the rustling of a newspaper in the background. She imagined her mother sitting on her usual stool at the enormous granite kitchen island, reading the paper and drinking French Roast from her favorite over-sized coffee mug. A pang of homesickness squeezed her heart.
“I must have gotten my early rising from Dad. I’ve never liked to sleep in.” Meg barely held back the “unless I have company” qualifier dangling from the tip of her tongue. Her mother was fine with her being gay, and they were close, but their relationship had never been one in which they exchanged that flavor of personal information.
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