Pregnant in Pennsylvania

by Jasinda Wilder

  “Even better than I remember it being.”

  “Which, considering you used the word ‘magical’ when you told me about it the first time, is really saying something.”

  It’s hard to breathe, hard to swallow past the lump in my throat and the butterflies in my belly. “Magical is the only word that applies.” I hesitate, chewing on my lip. “Other than…home. Or heaven. Or…perfect.”

  “And you still deny that you guys are made for each other?”

  I squeeze my eyes closed, refusing to cry in the middle of José’s. “Stop, Cora. Please…just stop.”

  She grabs my hand. “This is a really big deal for you, isn’t it?”

  “You don’t understand.”

  “I’m trying to.”

  “We can’t be perfect for each other. Because I can’t have him.”

  “I think you could.”

  “No! I can’t! Aiden can’t handle it, and I can’t handle the risk—I couldn’t handle it if it didn’t work out and Aiden had to go through all that again.”

  “Elyse—”

  I cut her off, my eyes on hers. “Aiden saw us kissing, Cora.”

  She winces at that. “Oh. Oh dear. How’d he react?”

  “He was confused, and he had so many questions.”

  “What kind of questions?”

  “Oh, you know, nothing big. Just…did you love Dad? Did you fall out of love with him? Could you fall out of love with me? If Jamie and I got together, would Jamie be his stepdad? Stuff like that.”

  “Jeez.” She swirls her iced tea with her straw. “That must have been tough.”

  “How do you explain to a confused eight-year-old why Daniel and I are divorced?”

  “Saying Daniel was a loser and an asshole probably wouldn’t work, huh?”

  “No, Cora, it wouldn’t,” I say. “He wasn’t always a loser and an asshole. The miscarriage really messed us both up, and we didn’t handle it well at all, either of us.”

  “He should have been there for you. He should have understood, and been supportive and loving and strong for you.”

  “It was hard for him, too, Cora.”

  “Why the hell are you defending him? He basically abandoned you to deal with the emotional trauma alone. You should have seen a therapist, and he should have insisted.” Her eyes water. “I should have insisted.”

  “Cora, stop. Don’t you try to take that on yourself.”

  “Then don’t you either.”

  I shake my hands, blowing out a shaky breath. “No more of that. The point is, Aiden saw Jamie and I kissing, and he was confused, and he had a lot of very difficult questions.”

  “So he wasn’t cool with it.”

  I can’t lie to her. “Well…the last thing he said was that if I wanted to kiss Coach Trent again I could, but maybe just do it where he can’t see because it’s weird and yucky.”

  “That’s kinda funny, but it’s not an outright rejection of the idea.”

  “He said he thought I was lonely, and he didn’t want me to be lonely just because he saw us kissing and I didn’t want him to.”

  Cora claps her hands over her heart. “Oh, my god, that boy. He’s the actual sweetest human being on the planet.”

  “He sure is.”

  “So it sounds like he’d be okay with you and Jamie being together.”

  I shake my head. “You didn’t see the look in his eyes when he first saw us…” I glance at the ceiling, remembering.

  Cora winces again. “Ooh, ouch. That’s a tough one.”

  “Yeah, exactly.”

  “I tried to be honest with him without overwhelming him or giving him more information than he could handle. I don’t know. I’m just so worried I messed that up, that I should have had better answers.” I roll a shoulder. “I lay awake at night thinking about all the different answers I could have given him.”

  “You did the best you could, Elyse.”

  “I know, but what if my best wasn’t good enough?” I tap the table with a finger. “And all this is exactly why I can’t date Jamie. This all resulted from Aiden seeing us kiss one time.”

  Cora nods. “Yeah, I guess I get that.”

  “You guess?”

  “But kids are adaptable. If parents handle these difficult situations with honesty and openness, then I think the kids can manage change. It was new and confusing. He loves you, and he wants you to be happy.”

  “That is just it. My happiness isn’t his job—his happiness is my job.”

  “Elyse—”

  “I need to pee.” I can’t handle this conversation any longer. “Just…give me a minute, okay?”

  I leave our booth and head for the bathrooms at the back. I keep my head down and focus on getting to the bathroom and into a stall—I allow myself a few quick, sobbing breaths, and then shut it down. This is why I can’t be with Jamie. I can’t fall apart in public like this, and I can’t let Aiden see me like this…being his mom and taking care of him requires everything I’ve got, and I can’t afford any distractions.

  Even kind, handsome, thoughtful, caring, and amazing distractions like Jamie Trent.

  I spend a few moments in the bathroom stall, breathing, getting myself under control. And then I do my business and leave the stall, wash my hands, and exit the bathroom. This time, on the way back to our booth, I see something I wish I hadn’t.

  Because there, in a booth in the back of the restaurant, huddled close and talking in low tones, are Jamie…and Debra Eisenhart.

  Debra is a fifth-grade teacher, another Clayton transplant. She came to Clayton from California, with California good looks: tall, perfect wavy blond hair and pretty blue eyes, and a trim, tight body with curves in all the right places.

  Sweet, funny, a great teacher.

  Single. Young.

  Looking for a husband.

  She laughs at something Jamie says, leaning close and touching his arm.

  My heels clack loudly against the tile floor. Jamie’s eyes go up, find mine, and he blanches.

  My heartbeat trips, and then my stomach squeezes and my throat closes.

  I shake my head, stand up straight, and let out a short, sharp breath. Lift my chin, and head for my booth.

  I slide in opposite Cora, and I focus on breathing slowly and evenly.

  Cora sees how upset I am and leans forward. “What? What happened? You look pissed, Elyse.”

  “Jamie is here.” I close my eyes, but all I see is Debra laughing, leaning close to Jamie and touching his arm. “With Debra Eisenhart.”

  “Ohh boy.” Cora rubs the bridge of her nose. “Like, with her, with her?”

  “Seemed that way to me, judging based on body language.”

  “Elyse, there could be—”

  “I know—there could be all sorts of explanations,” I say, “but in the end, it doesn’t matter, does it? I’ve rejected him three or four times now. I snuck out on him after we slept together, and I told him we couldn’t be together next time we saw each other, and I’ve told him so again several times since. And then we kissed last week and I kicked him out of my house, telling him it just wouldn’t work.”

  I close my eyes, breathe in slowly, hold it for a few seconds, and let it out just as slowly.

  “He’s…” I shake my head, open my eyes. “He’s allowed to go to lunch with another woman. I rejected him, and he’s moving on. I have no right to be jealous or upset.”

  “It is a bit soon.”

  I shake my head again. “No, it’s not. We slept together one time, weeks ago. We kissed once, a week ago. More than a week, actually. So…it’s fine. I’m fine.” I fake a smile. “See? Totally cool.”

  Cora rolls her eyes, snorting. “Yeah, okay. You’re a crappy liar, Elyse, and you’re an even worse actress.”

  “I am not.”

  Cora laughs. “You are. You’re terrible. You couldn’t lie your way out of a paper bag. It’s a good thing, but it means you just shouldn’t ever try.”

  I laugh, sniffli
ng. “Aiden said something similar. He asked if I wanted to kiss Jamie again, and I said I didn’t know. Which was a lie, because I did know I wanted to kiss him again. And he asked if I knew how I told him I always knew when he was lying, and I was like yeah, and he said, well, Mom, I know when you’re lying too.”

  Cora barks a laugh. “Oh—my—god, he did not say that.”

  “He did.”

  “What a little punk!” She shakes her head in disbelief. “So, what’d you say?”

  “That it was complicated.”

  “Cop-out.”

  I shoot her a look. “Cora—do you really expect me to tell my eight-year-old son that I wish I could kiss Jamie and never stop? Oh… hi Jamie.” He’s standing at our table, arriving just as I was making that admission to Cora.

  “Hi.”

  I wish I could truthfully say I feel nothing, that I’m cold, that I’m unaffected, but it wouldn’t be true. I’m none of that.

  “Having a nice date?” I hear the snarky vitriol in my own voice.

  He rubs the back of his neck, wincing. “It’s not like that, Elyse. I swear. It’s a working lunch. She asked for help adding some things to her curriculum, and we—”

  I stand up, push past him. “Save it, Jamie. You’re allowed to do whatever you want.”

  “Elyse, wait.”

  “Can you get the check today, Cora? I’ll get you back next time.”

  She eyes me warily. “Yeah, I’ve got it.” She grabs my hand to stop me. “But Elyse, I think you should hear him out.”

  “No point. Nothing has changed for me. I can’t get into anything with anyone, and I’ve made that clear. So…Jamie is allowed to have lunch with whomever he wants, and he owes me zero explanations.” I try to put some casualness into my voice as I look at him, meeting his eyes. “Honestly, I hope it is a date, for your sake. You deserve good things, Jamie. I want you to be happy, and I’m sorry I can’t be a part of it.”

  He reaches for me. “Elyse, now hold on a second—”

  I shake my head and back out of his reach. “I have to go.”

  I hustle out to my car, ignoring both Cora’s and Jamie’s voices as they call after me.

  I drive away, pretending even to myself that I’m not crying, that I’m not hurt, that I’m not being unreasonable, that I’m not jumping to conclusions.

  But, like Cora said—I’m a crappy liar, even to myself.

  14

  I have to put the scene at José’s out of my head. I can’t let it shake me, can’t let it consume me.

  But…it does.

  I pick up Aiden from school, and I force myself to be as normal and cheerful as possible. I ask Aiden about his day, how his ankle is feeling—fine, and fine, respectively.

  “Mom?” he says, as we’re heading to our doctor’s office to get the all clear from his doctor to go back to football.

  “Yeah?”

  “What’s wrong?”

  I smile at him in the rearview mirror. “Nothing, baby.”

  He narrows his eyes. “We talked about this, Mom. I know when you’re lying.”

  I sigh. “Nothing you need to concern yourself with, Aiden, and that’s the truth.”

  He nods, accepting my answer. “So, do you think Dr. Pritchard will let me play now? We have a game coming up and I want to be in it.”

  “I think probably, yes,” I tell him, truthfully. “You’ve been off the crutches for a few days, and you’re moving without much pain, right?”

  “It doesn’t hurt at all.”

  “Well, we will just have to see what the doctor says, but I’m hopeful, for your sake.” I meet his eyes in the mirror again. “Even though I’m worried you’re going to get hurt again.”

  “Coach Trent says I’ll get hurt a lot in football, but that getting hurt is different than getting injured.”

  I frown. “I see. And what’s the difference?”

  “Coach said hurt is something you can play through, injured is something that takes you out of the game.”

  “And how do you know the difference?”

  He shrugs. “I dunno. I guess if you can still play, you’re just hurt. Like, I injured my ankle because I couldn’t walk it off.”

  I nod. “I see. Well, I don’t want you getting hurt or injured. So be careful, okay?”

  He rolls his eyes at me. “Mom, you can’t be careful in football. You have to give it everything, every play. If you hold back, or try not to get hurt, that’s when you get hurt.”

  “Let me guess, Coach Trent said that?”

  He grins. “Nope, actually that was Coach Barnhart. He told us that the first day we started tackling.” His grin fades. “Is it weird for you when I talk about Coach Trent because you guys kissed?”

  Gahhhh. “Nope!” I say, lying through my teeth.

  “Mom,” he drawls.

  “You know what, buster? You need to let your mom get away with a lie now and then. Sometimes it’s for your own good.”

  He frowns at me. “But, Mama, you told me a million times that lying is never okay, and that it never solves anything. Even if it saves someone’s feelings right then, in the end it’s always better to just tell the truth.”

  I groan. “I get the one kid who remembers everything I tell him, and he uses it against me.” I meet his eyes in the mirror. “Okay—the truth is, Aiden, yes, it’s a little weird for me sometimes.”

  “Oh. So should I stop talking about Coach Trent, then?”

  I sigh. “No, Aiden. He’s your coach, and your principal, and your friend. This is my issue, not yours. So you talk about him all you want, okay?” I opt for more honesty. “And, really, this is why we won’t kiss again.”

  He frowns. “Because of me?”

  “No…because it complicates things that don’t need to be complicated.”

  He frowns more deeply, as if he doesn’t quite buy my explanation. “But what about you being lonely?”

  I smile at him, touched by his love and concern. “Baby, I’m fine, I promise. I have you, and I have Grandma and Papa, and I have Auntie Cora. I’m fine—I’m not lonely.”

  He doesn’t answer, but he still seems skeptical. He stares out the window as we finish the drive to Dr. Pritchard’s office. He unbuckles after I park, and we head in. We’re in the waiting room, and he’s watching the fish in the fish tank in the waiting room—it’s designed to look like the tank from Finding Nemo, including the same sea creatures.

  “Mom?” he says, still watching the fish.

  His tone of voice tells me he’s got another question.

  “Yes, Aiden?” I say, flipping through an old Good Housekeeping magazine.

  “Are you sure you’re not lying about why you won’t let Coach Trent kiss you again? Because I think it’s about me, and you just don’t want me to feel bad.”

  “Aiden…” I trail off, though, because I need to think about my answer.

  How do I get out of this one? He’s right, in a way.

  I put my magazine down and look at him. “Aiden, honey. I’m your mom. It’s my job to do what’s best for you. I have to protect you, and try to make sure you’re happy and healthy. And I’m going to do that, no matter what.”

  “Even if it means you don’t get to do something you really want to?”

  “Even then, Aiden. Being your mom is the most important thing I could ever do, and I won’t let anything get in the way of being the best mom I can be.”

  “Not even Coach Trent?”

  I laugh, softly. “Not even Coach Trent.”

  He frowns. “So…it is me.”

  “Sort of, yes,” I say, knowing he will appreciate the honesty. “But it’s something I’m choosing, Aiden. You being happy is most important, and I can be happy without Coach Trent.”

  “But you like him?”

  I sigh. “I think it’s time for me to say we’re not talking about this anymore, okay?”

  “Okay.” He looks at me thoughtfully. “But, Mama—”

  I quirk an eyebrow. “Ai
den.” I make my voice firm, indicating that there will be no more discussion on this.

  He sighs in irritation. “Fine.” He glances at me. “One last question.”

  “You can ask, but I reserve the right to not answer.”

  “What does Aunt Cora say?”

  I groan, but it’s also a laugh. “Aunt Cora wants what’s best for you, too.”

  “But she also wants what’s best for you, right? So whose side is she on?”

  “There are no sides, Aiden. There’s me saying Mr. Trent and I are just friends and that’s all we will ever be, and that’s it. That’s the only side there is.”

  “But what if—” he starts.

  “Aiden, enough.” I keep my voice low but firm. “No more, please.”

  His eyes meet mine, and he sees something more convincing in them than my words. “Okay, Mama. No more questions. I’m sorry. I just…what if you could be happy in a different way, with Coach Trent, and not just as friends?”

  “Aiden, you’re only eight years old. You shouldn’t be worrying about this kind of thing at your age.”

  “Papa says I’ve got an old soul.”

  “Papa is right,” I say, relieved to be on safer ground. “But you’re still an eight-year-old boy. So you just worry about football and LEGOs, and remember that girls are gross, and put the seat up before you pee and down when you’re done.”

  “Papa says if he can put it up, Grandma can put it down, because that’s only fair.”

  I laugh. “Well, again, Grandma and Papa have been married longer than you and I have been alive combined, so they can make those kinds of compromises. But I think if you asked Grandma, she’d tell you a different story.”

  Aiden laughs. “Grandma says half of what Papa says is bunk, the other half is nonsense, and the other half is the rambling of a crazy old man.” He frowns. “But that’s too many halves, and Grandma just said that’s because Papa is so full of himself he has a whole ’nother half, and I said maybe that’s because he has a big belly, and Grandma just shushed me and said Papa is sensitive about his belly.”

  “What else does Papa say?” I ask, eager to distract Aiden.

  “Well…? He says a lot of stuff. He talks pretty much all the time. I guess I just only remember the funny stuff, or the really smart stuff.”