Lake + Manning: Something in the Way, 4

by Jessica Hawkins

  “I want a baby,” I said, my voice breaking, “with you.”

  He inhaled through his nose, and for a terrifying moment, I thought he might break down along with me. Instead, his expression cleared. “What’d the doctor say? What’s the issue?”

  “She thinks I have endometriosis, but she won’t know for sure until she performs a laparoscopy.”

  “What is that?” he asked. “I don’t know any of those terms.”

  “I don’t even understand it myself. I was in shock when she told me.”

  “I should’ve been there.”

  I tried to steady my voice so I wouldn’t scare him any more than he already looked. “Endometriosis is a disease that causes my uterine tissue to . . . well, I guess the tissue has sort of blockaded one of my fallopian tubes. Literally keeping your sperm and my egg apart. And there are cysts on my ovaries—”

  “Jesus, Lake.” He released me to run a hand through his hair, leaving it sticking up. “You’ve known this for months?”

  “It sounds more painful than it is.”

  “But is it?” His face fell as he nearly whispered, “Are you in pain?”

  I wanted to tell him no, not ever—as far as my protective bear was concerned, I was perpetually floating on cloud nine. But I also wanted to be honest. “Some women have a lot of pain,” I said. “I’m lucky that I don’t. It’s only slightly more severe around my periods.”

  “Fuck.” He ran his hand down his face, the way he did when his gears were turning. “All right,” he said. “We’ll handle this. When’s your next appointment?”

  “I haven’t made it.”

  I hadn’t realized I’d crossed my arms over my stomach until he took my hand. “We need to, baby. No question.”

  “My gynecologist wants to do a laparoscopy—it’s minimally invasive surgery. It’ll tell us more.”

  “Surgery,” he repeated.

  “It’ll most likely be outpatient and I’ll recover within a couple days,” I reassured him, the memory of my visit returning. I was pretty certain I’d only begun to regain composure because I couldn’t quite believe we were having this conversation.

  “We’ll call her to schedule in the morning,” he said. “Did she mention our options?”

  “Options?” I asked. “There are no options. We just have to keep trying.”

  “IVF?” he asked. “Is that what people do next in our situation?”

  Breaking this news to Manning hadn’t gone anything like how I’d imagined. I’d thought discussing our options would come much later. “What do you know about IVF?”

  “Not much,” he said, “but enough that it concerns me.”

  “I haven’t really thought about it,” I admitted. “I didn’t think you’d be ready to hear any of this.”

  “Not crazy about the idea of involving drugs and needles and labs.” He brought my hand to his mouth, kissing my palm. “After all, I vowed to protect every inch of this body. If it’s what you want, I’ll support it, but . . .”

  I frowned, my cheeks tight with dried tears. “But what? The money?”

  “No. This is why I work hard—to give us options. I don’t want you to rule out adoption, though. There are babies and children out there who need the love of a good mom and dad.”

  I couldn’t handle it. I started bawling all over again, shivering so hard that Manning had to bring me back into his embrace. He rubbed my back, shushing me, trying to calm me down. My tears weren’t sad. They were shock—that Manning would even consider adoption, and so quickly. They were guilt—that I’d assumed he’d never be open to it. And they were relief—this wasn’t a deal breaker for him, and I could finally start asking myself what I wanted. Maybe our destiny was to give another child a safe and loving home. Maybe a son or daughter whose parents wanted better for them—or who didn’t deserve them, the way Manning’s hadn’t deserved him or Madison.

  “You’d really be okay with that?” I blubbered.

  The words must’ve been unintelligible in my state, but of course Manning understood me. “This is our life, Lake. We can do whatever we want. We’ve never followed the conventional path. If we aren’t meant to have a biological child . . . I mean, I can’t lie. Yeah, that’s hard news to take. I know how much you want that. I do, too. But it isn’t the end of the line for us. Not even close.” He tilted my face up with his knuckle. “Even if we have to make the difficult decision that it’s just going to be you and me for the rest of our lives, I’ll continue thanking the heavens. Every day. Won’t you?”

  My muscles loosened, and I finally let myself melt in his strong arms. It would be easy not to believe him, or to go on doubting what we had, but deep down I knew the truth. Manning wouldn’t lie to me about this. He was enough for me—why shouldn’t I, alone, be enough for him, too? Any other blessings fate sent our way were only more reasons to be grateful.

  “Every day,” I agreed.

  I let Manning hold me in a nursery that might never be. I wasn’t sure how to be okay with that yet. Tonight, I’d perch on my great bear’s back and let him carry me around the universe until I was ready to open my wings again. We were two stars forever locked in a triangle that only seemed to hurt us. But at least we had each other. I didn’t know how long it’d be until I was ready to soar, only that Manning would support me when I was—and that I’d one day find the strength to do it.

  Summer Triangle

  Fall 2012

  18

  I slid my hand up Manning’s shaft, palming the leathery knob. “Like this?” I asked.

  Manning stared as I stroked his stick shift. “Nice try,” he said.

  “What do you mean?”

  “Sex won’t get you out of this.” He nodded at my feet. “Now, release the clutch smoothly as you feed in throttle.”

  With a sigh, I made my fourth attempt in fifteen minutes to drive a stick shift. Manning’s truck jerked back and forth before I hit the brake. “I suck at this,” I said.

  “You’ll get the hang of it.” He started in again on downshifting and listening to the engine and friction points. The sun shone through the windshield, showing the crow’s feet around his eyes, the two lines that formed in his forehead whenever he spoke about something that mattered to him. Like driving a manual.

  Maybe I wasn’t getting the hang of it because I kept losing myself in how sexy Serious Manning could be.

  “Got it?” he asked.

  “Today is one of those beautiful fall days that’re gone before you know it,” I said.

  He covered my hand with his, ignoring me. “Now, put it in first,” he said, pushing the stick to the left and up, “and slowly release the clutch.”

  “The sun is shining; the temperature is that perfect place between warm and cool. Let’s go out on the lake.”

  “All right,” he said. “Drive us there.”

  I stuck out my tongue at him. We made it farther down our driveway this time, rattling over the gravel as the truck shuddered. But at the entrance to the street, I slammed on the brakes in a panic, vaulting us forward as we stalled.

  He scratched his chin. “That was better, I guess . . .”

  I put the truck in park and flopped over into his lap as my stomach somersaulted. “I’m getting carsick,” I said. “Why do I have to learn this again?”

  “Because I’ve gone all around town bragging about what a badass wife I have. She can move to New York City all by herself. She applied for a loan while working a full-time job, then started her own practice. She saves people’s pets on a daily basis. But always in the back of my mind, I’m thinking, ‘if only she could drive a manual.’”

  I laughed, pushing his chest. “Shut up.”

  “Ooph.” He winced. “Easy, Sugar Ray.”

  I laughed at his faux-pained expression and at the absurd idea that I could hurt him. “Sugar Ray?”

  “The boxer, not the band.”

  “You know they’re from Newport Beach?” I asked. “Tiffany claims she almost made out
with the lead singer.”

  “How does one almost make out?”

  “Right?” I kicked my feet and giggled so hard that my eyes watered.

  “What’s so funny?” he asked.

  “I honestly don’t know,” I said. “I feel loopy from all the jerking around.”

  He put a hand on my face, thumbing the apple of my cheek. “It’s good to see you laugh.”

  It felt good to laugh. Not that Manning and I didn’t have fun. We’d gone drunk bowling a few weeks before and had shut down the alley before we’d come home and made love on every surface of the house. That had been fun. Regardless, fate’s dark cloud crept along with us, reminding us it wasn’t far away.

  After another year of trying to have a child, Manning and I had decided to begin the adoption process. We’d been through a successful homestudy with an agency last year and had just received our third rejection from another birth mother. It turned out Manning’s past had hit us in the one place we hadn’t expected it to. Having a felony record didn’t exactly make us ideal candidates as parents.

  As a last resort, we’d scheduled an appointment with my doctor to seriously discuss IVF.

  I ran my fingers against the side of his scalp. His chest rumbled the way it sometimes did when I played with his hair. “You make me laugh,” I said. “You’re a good man, Manning.”

  He nodded. “Because of you.”

  I worried about what the rejections did to him since Manning had a history of beating himself up and blaming himself for things outside his control. Even though he’d remained optimistic, it was hard to forget all the strife he’d put us through thinking he didn’t deserve me. And now others were telling him he didn’t deserve to be a father. There was no way each rejection didn’t kill him just a little inside. He acted brave, but for nights after each of those phone calls, he loved me a little harder, and held me closer as we slept.

  “They don’t know what they’re missing,” I said softly.

  “I know. And I’m disappointed, because I really don’t want you to go through IVF.” He ran some of my hair through his palm, resting it over my breasts. “But it might be the only option left.”

  “We’ll find our baby.”

  “And it’ll be a lucky goddamn kid.”

  Hearing him say that, my heart swelled. He’d come a long way since the days when he’d never let himself believe he deserved anything at all. I was grateful he’d finally found his hope in us. I wrapped my hand around his wrist and brought his palm to my lips. “Yes it will.”

  “With a badass mom who can drive stick.”

  “Point taken,” I said with a sigh. I grabbed the steering wheel to pull myself upright, but I sat forward too fast and a wave of nausea hit. Manning leaned in to kiss me as I covered my mouth and gagged.

  “Jesus.” He drew away. “Way to kill a guy’s confidence.”

  Shaking my head, I opened my door and leaned over the side. My stomach heaved as I prepared to throw up.

  Manning slid over to rub my back. “I thought you were kidding about feeling sick.”

  “I’m allergic to stick shift,” I said to the gravel.

  “Aw, Birdy.” He massaged my shoulder from behind. “Since when do you get motion sickness?”

  “I do sometimes. I told you about that one time as a kid when Tiffany took me on the pendulum carnival ride.”

  “Yeah, but lots of people throw up after that.”

  I eased into a sitting position when nothing came. “You think I’m faking to get out of learning to drive stick?”

  He arched an eyebrow, teasing me. “I wouldn’t put it past you—but no. I was thinking something else.”

  I scanned his face as I registered his meaning. Of course, it would’ve been my next thought if I ever left myself think it. I didn’t, though. After years of nothing, there was no point jumping to such an unlikely conclusion. “It isn’t anything but the car.”

  “You don’t know that.”

  “We’ve been trying too long,” I said, irritation creeping into my voice despite the fact that I’d just laughed until I’d cried. He and I had been through this before, most recently when I’d I thought I’d missed my period, only to get it on the way home from buying a pregnancy test. “It’s not going to happen out of the blue.”

  “Lake, honey. That’s exactly how it happens.” He took my hand, entwining our fingers. “Letting yourself want this, and hope for it, doesn’t mean it has to be heartbreaking when it doesn’t happen. It just means we have to keep pushing forward with all available methods. Not even for ourselves, but for the kid.”

  I stared through the windshield, past our mailbox with the fading Summer Triangle he’d painted in red, into the thicket of trees across the street. Part of why I hated taking pregnancy tests was because with each negative result, I was disappointing Manning. He’d remained hopeful, while I’d only become more jaded. It wasn’t easy for me to wait for an outcome that never came, but over the years, I’d done a better job of mentally preparing myself. Manning seemed to think one day, the pink line would magically appear.

  “We talked about this when we started the adoption process,” I said. “We were supposed to stop wishing for a biological child.”

  “Why can’t I want both?” he asked. “It’s not a crime to want this, Lake. You never lost hope in me, and look at us now.” He squeezed my hand and put it back on the shift. “Wasn’t it worth holding onto?”

  I nodded with a sigh. It was just motion sickness—I didn’t get it often, but like everyone else in the world, I’d had it enough in my life to know what it felt like. The way Manning smiled warmly at me, though, I couldn’t help but give in. “All right. I’ll try to be more optimistic.”

  “Think you can get us back up the driveway?”

  “The sun might set before I do, but I’ll try.”

  After another twenty minutes on our own private carnival ride, I managed to get the car in front of the garage before I shut off the engine and jumped out.

  A few steps toward the house, the dogs came running out to meet us. As I squatted to say hi to Altair, I detoured to vomit on the lawn.

  “Shit.” Manning came up behind me as Vega tried to lick my face. “No, Vega,” he said, pulling her away by her collar. “Go in the house.”

  “I’m fine,” I said.

  “I was talking to the dogs.” He waited until I stood, then put an arm around my waist. “But we better get you on the couch, too. I’ll find something for your stomach.”

  Inside, Manning put chicken soup on the stove as I went to our bedroom. Still queasy, I put a small trashcan by the bed and pulled my hair into a ponytail. As I brushed my teeth, I paced the bathroom, trying to ignore my thoughts.

  That pregnancy test I’d bought but never used? It was still in a drawer under my sink. Even though I’d hidden it in the back, I accidentally came across it now and then, and each time, my heart dropped. If nothing else, peeing on the thing and tossing it would be a good way to get rid of it. I rinsed my mouth, swiped the test from the drawer, and unwrapped it on my way to the toilet. Even though I’d used this brand a few times, my nerves always got the better of me. I read the instructions to calm myself.

  I was supposed to put the stick in a cup of urine—my first urine of the day—but it didn’t matter. It wasn’t going to be positive. I peed directly on it, then set it on the bathroom counter.

  As soon as I’d perched on the edge of our tub, Manning leaned into the bathroom. “Soup’s ready. Want me to go get you something from the drugstore?”

  “No.”

  “I don’t mean a pregnancy test. If you’re coming down with something, I can pick up some . . .” He paused at the look on my face. “What’s wrong? Did you puke again?”

  “No.”

  “You look like you’re about to pass out, Lake. Why aren’t you in bed?”

  True, my stomach was still queasy, but I doubted that was the reason I looked sick. “I took it,” I said. “The test.”
r />   With a glance at the stick on the counter, he started to look a little pale. “Oh.”

  “I just thought maybe—”

  “You don’t have to explain.” Manning crossed the bathroom and came to sit next to me. I hadn’t realized I was gripping the lip of the tub until he put his hand over mine. “How do you feel?”

  “Better with you here,” I said.

  He kissed my temple, pausing there as he inhaled. “I’m proud of you. No matter what it says, it’s okay to want to this.”

  “Will you look for me?” I asked.

  “Sure.” He stood and took a few steps toward the counter, where he picked up the stick.

  Seconds ticked by. “Anything?” I asked.

  “Not yet.”

  “Let’s forget it.” My heart pounded. I could see his expression in the mirror, and I didn’t want to watch it turn from expectant to disappointed. I got up. “I don’t want to know.”

  “Lake,” he said, a warning should I try to leave.

  I got behind him, hiding from whatever face he was about to make. That wasn’t enough, so I pulled up his t-shirt. I stuck my head under first, pulling it down around me.

  “What’re you doing?” he asked.

  “Just pretend I’m not here.” I hugged him from behind—in the dark, where I could hold onto the one thing that mattered—him. My Manning. My first love. My husband. The one thing that wouldn’t disappoint me, leave me, hurt me. I wanted more, but I didn’t need it. Emotionally, he was enough for me. Physically, he was big enough, too, a safe space for me to burrow into. I could’ve stayed pressed against his warm back forever. “I don’t want to know,” I repeated, my lips on his skin.

  He covered my arm, lacing our hands through his shirt.

  From his silence, I had my answer.

  We made love nearly every day. It was the best we could do to move the stars. Maybe, this time, they simply refused to budge.

  Manning’s torso expanded under me as he breathed. I traced the thin black triangle on his shoulder, touching each star. He didn’t know how to tell me the test was negative, but we’d been through this before.