Like You Mean It

by Jillian Liota

  “Well, I think that went pretty well, huh?” Gary says.

  I leave the check on the counter and plop down at the table.

  “Oh yeah, definitely.” I rest my head in my hands for a minute. “I don’t understand why it’s such a big deal. Why can’t she just accept my help?”

  My mom scoffs, and when I look up at her with confusion, it looks like she has to restrain herself from rolling her eyes at me.

  “Cole, no woman wants to feel like someone else is making choices for her,” my mom finally says. “The issue isn’t that you helped. You didn’t give her a chance to accept your help. You took her choice away.” She reaches forward and pats my hand. “And from what I overheard her say to you down the hall, it sounds like someone else might have been doing the same thing to her not too long ago. Hmmm?”

  I let out a sigh.

  Well. Nothing like a little bit of Mexican food with a side of mom guilt to wrap up this wonderful evening.

  I glance towards the front of the house, where Annie and Jones barreled out just a few minutes ago, as if looking there might conjure them up. Might make them reappear and the last twenty minutes rewind.

  But I don’t live in a fantasy world, and the door stays firmly closed.

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  ANNIE

  I lay in bed that night, long after Jones goes to sleep, feeling like an emotional mess.

  The day had started out so good. I dropped Jones with my mom and then Lindsey and I went to a late brunch and to get a pedicure.

  Things started out a little superficial as we tried to get to know one another again. But by the time I’d finished my bacon, I was telling her how Andrew died and some of what I’d been through.

  “I’m so sorry, Annie,” she said, reaching her hand across the table to take mine.

  I’d waved a hand to shoo her platitudes away. “Andrew was never nice to you in high school.”

  She scoffed. “That doesn’t mean I wanted him to die or for you to have had a shitty relationship or to be dealing with pain.”

  I’d laughed. “Sorry, I don’t know why I laughed. I just, yeah sometimes I think and do weird things. A dead ex and 33 weeks pregnant means crazy thoughts and hormones.”

  She’d laughed then, and we’d moved on to lighter topics.

  It had been just… exactly what I needed. Time with a girlfriend. Someone who wanted me to be happy but wanted nothing from me.

  Jones had returned from his day with mom and we’d gotten him clean to head over to Cole’s.

  And then – the catastrophe of dinner happened.

  I cringe when I remember the way I slammed the check down and glared at Cole. That’s no way to treat your friend. But I was so incredibly embarrassed. So emotional that he’d been orchestrating pieces of my life without my knowledge. And that I didn’t find out about it in a private way, but in front of his parents, who probably think I’m an idiot for not even knowing he’s the fucking owner.

  I called my mom after I put Jones to bed two hours ago. That’s how mad I was. She thinks I’m overreacting, and that he was doing a good thing. And I understand that perspective, completely. But I’m through being maneuvered by men. I’m an adult capable of making decisions, and I don’t like that I wasn’t allowed to know all of the information about my car. Or that someone thought it would be better for me not to know.

  Would it have made a big deal if my neighbor had offered to do a payment plan? I don’t know. I honestly don’t. But I wasn’t even allowed the chance to decide. I was barreled over and the choice made for me.

  I lay in bed like that, fuming, for at least another hour before my mind is able to slow a bit and think about other things. Like the guppy.

  My hands wrap around my stomach, stroking the area where she normally kicks and squirms. I don’t even know her yet, but she’s already become an integral part of my life. She’s a puzzle piece I haven’t placed yet, but I know I need her.

  And she still doesn’t have a name.

  I roll over to my other side and stare out the window leading into the backyard.

  I haven’t thought much about her name, mostly because I got comfortable calling her the guppy. But also because maybe, in some warped way, I’ve been worried. It may have been subconscious, but Andrew’s death has me afraid of losing people. And if I don’t name her, if something went wrong, I wouldn’t be losing a person I love. I’d be losing the idea of something I never had.

  I know that’s the biggest lie I could possibly tell myself, but sometimes, we have to believe lies to keep moving forward. A tear tracks down my cheeks and I bat it away, frustrated that I’m a ball of emotional mess all the time.

  “Mom?”

  The little whisper has me sitting up in bed and looking to the door, where Jones is standing in his Spiderman jammies.

  “What’s wrong?” I ask, my heart shooting up into my throat as a million things track through my mind at what might be wrong. Jones doesn’t really come to my room in the middle of the night like I’ve heard other kids do.

  “I thought of a name for the guppy,” he says.

  The breath releases from where I’d lodged it in my chest, and I pat my bed, indicating he should climb up. He scrambles towards me and snuggles up under the covers, his little eyes so big and wide.

  I settle down into the bed and pull the comforter up for both of us so it tucks in under our chins.

  “What do you want to name her?” I ask.

  “You said she was like a superhero,” he says.

  My mind crawls through my recent memories and finally lands on the night I fell. Halloween. I told Jones that the guppy was a superhero, throwing herself into danger to save the day.

  “Jones,” I say on a laugh, “we are not naming the guppy Gamora.”

  “No, no, I know. But there’s another one. Remember Wonder Woman? She had an Amazon mom, like you, and she’s strong and nice and amazing!”

  I smile at him. At my Jones. At his sweet little heart and ability to see the world in such a wonderful way.

  “You wanna name her Diana?” I ask.

  He gives me a big shit-eating grin and I burst into laughter.

  “Okay,” I say, leaning forward and kissing him on the forehead. “Princess Diana it is.”

  «««« »»»»

  When I wake up the next morning, it feels like someone is stabbing me in the back. I’m just about to cry out in pain, and then I realize that Jones is still asleep next to me in bed. I’m in serious pain but don’t want to startle him, so I settle on digging my fingernails into my palms and breathing deeply.

  I glance around and spot my phone on my nightstand. Stretching out to grab it, I let out a sharp cry, unable to help myself.

  “Mom?” Jones’ sleepy voice hits my ears just as my fingers wrap around my cell and I twist back to settle into a semi-comfortable position.

  “Hey mister,” I say, straining to give him a smile. “I’m gonna call Mimi really quick. Can you go feed Cheeto?”

  Jones’ eyes get big and then he sprints out of bed to go check on his new pet.

  I give my mom a call. It rings and rings and rings. When it finally clicks over to voicemail, I leave a horrible message that no child should ever leave on their parents’ voicemail. But hindsight is 20/20.

  “Mom,” I squeak out, “I’m in so much pain. I need you.”

  And then I hang up.

  Jones comes flying back into the room and jumps on the bed and I cry out again as my body gets jolted.

  He freezes. “What’s wrong?”

  “Oh honey, it’s just my back. But I’ll be okay.”

  He doesn’t look convinced, but I manage to get him to settle in next to me watching videos on an iPad that Mimi bought him for his 4th birthday. Even now it makes me want to roll my eyes.

  I take the next few minutes to call and leave a message for Carly letting her know I’m having back problems and probably won’t be in. Then I let Jones’ daycare know not to expect him. Then
I settle in and try to deal with the pain as I wait for my mom to call back. But after thirty minutes, Jones is starting to get hungry, and I can barely move any muscles in my body.

  “Do you need a doctor?” gets whispered into my ear.

  I look over to where Jones is sitting next to me, his little brow furrowed in worry.

  I nod, hating to admit it. “Yeah, baby. I need a doctor.”

  “Do you want me to call 911? Mimi taught me about that when she cut her finger.”

  I smile at him through the pain. “No, I don’t need 911. I’m just going to wait for Mimi to call me back. But can you do me a favor?” He nods. “Can you go grab a box of your favorite cereal out of the kitchen and bring it in here?”

  He nods and makes his way slowly out of the room, looking back at me with worry in his eyes.

  I hate that he’s had so many things to be concerned about at only 4 and a half. He should be enjoying his childhood and having fun with friends, not dealing with a dead dad, a crying mom, fears about a new baby and the scariness of starting over in a new place with no one he knows and nothing familiar.

  I let out a sigh. Then I hear Jones walking back to my room. Only… it sounds like he’s stomping his feet along the hallway.

  “Jones what are you…”

  But my voice trails off when Cole’s dominating presence walks through the doorway and into my bedroom.

  “Mom, Cole can help you get to a doctor!” Jones says, a huge smile on his face, looking so proud of how he’s fixed the problem.

  But all I can do right now is burst into some blend of maniacal laughter and tears. I’m in so much pain, and I have to pee, and I want my mom, and Cole is looking at me like he wants to solve all my problems if I just give in and let him and what the fuck, universe?

  He kneels down next to where I’m curled up on my side and rests a hand on my arm.

  “Hey Annie girl. How are you feeling?”

  I suck back my sobs and manage to say “really shitty”, and he smiles at me.

  “You wanna go to the doctor?” he asks, and I nod, even though it’s literally the last thing on this earth I want to do right now.

  His eyes scan the room and land on Jones. “Hey bud. Can you grab your mom’s purse and make sure she has her wallet and wait at the front door?”

  Jones nods and runs off.

  Then Cole’s eyes are back on me.

  “It’s your back right?” he asks.

  “Yeah. It feels like someone’s stabbing me. It hurts so bad.” And then I start crying again.

  “Alright, it’s probably gonna hurt when I pick you up. But I’ll be careful, and feel free to shout at me, okay?”

  I laugh a little bit, then wince when a shooting pain goes up my back again.

  Cole rolls me slightly so I’m laying flat on my back, then pushes his arms under my knees and under my back in order to lift me in his arms. I bite the inside of my cheek and let tears fall, but refuse to cry out.

  He lifts me up without looking like he’s pulled all of his muscles, which I find incredibly surprising considering he’s picking up a pregnant lady who weighs as much as a small cow, and then moves slowly out of my bedroom, down the hall, and into the living room. My back pinches a bit with each step he takes, and when he has Jones open up the front door and he takes a step down the stairs, I can’t help it but cry out and bury my head against his chest.

  “I’m sorry, Annie. But I got you.”

  He keeps directing Jones, getting him to grab a blanket, open the back door of my car and run back to lock the front door. But instead of focusing on his words, I focus on where my face presses into his chest and the faint smell of his cologne, so subtle but so soothing. He settles me in as gently as possible so I’m sitting in the back seat next to Jones’ car seat. Then he buckles in my kid, and takes off.

  Fifteen minutes later, he pulls in to an Urgent Care, parks the car and does the whole routine again, carrying me inside and stopping at the reception desk.

  Even from my position snuggled against his chest, I can see the adoring look on the nurse’s face when she takes in the strapping man that’s carrying me in to see a doctor. She looks positively enamored with him.

  He finally sets me down in a wheelchair so I won’t have to get up again once I’m admitted, and then returns to the reception desk, my wallet in his hand, to handle the paperwork.

  I don’t say much until we finally get settled into an admitted patient’s room and I’ve been put into a hospital bed while I wait for the doctor.

  “Your mom is on her way,” Cole tells me as he hands over my purse and then takes a seat in the corner. “She called you at least twenty times. I finally answered and told her what’s up. She’ll be here in the next half hour.”

  I nod, watching as Jones climbs up onto Cole’s lap and starts whispering secrets into Cole’s ear.

  Cole’s face is serious as he listens, and then it breaks into a smile that has warmth shooting through my veins and restarting my heart.

  And right there, in that moment, as I watch Cole and Jones whisper secrets to each other while we sit in the hospital, I realize why I’ve been so frustrated with Cole’s consistent, persistent, never-ending help.

  Because I’m falling for this good, good man. This man with a kind heart and a soft spot for my son.

  I just can’t let that happen. I’ve been through enough. Jones has been through enough. I can’t allow myself to fall for another man that won’t be able to give me what I need. Because even though Cole would be an amazing partner, someone else already fills the role I can’t ever imagine myself deserving.

  And I can’t really handle that.

  When my mom shows up, I thank Cole and tell him he can leave. He looks like he wants to argue, but when my mom says that he should go if he wants there to be any chance that I’ll let him help me once I’m back at home, he gives me a sneaky smile and a salute before heading out.

  My mom catches my eye.

  “Stop,” I say.

  She shrugs, a mischievous smile on her face. “I didn’t say anything.”

  «««« »»»»

  A few hours later, I’ve been prescribed some pregnancy-safe pain medication, I’m a little drugged up, and I’m back at home.

  The doctor in the Urgent Care was fantastic. When I told her I’d been experiencing back pinches here and there for the past month or so, and that I’d fallen pretty hard on Halloween, she decided to do an ultrasound to check on Diana and make sure she’s doing okay.

  It’s the first time Jones is around during an ultrasound, and his little eyes fly open wide at the image on the screen and the sound of the heartbeat.

  I’m told there’s nothing to worry about with the baby, but that I need to give myself a few days of relaxation. So now, I’m snuggled up on the shitty futon couch with Lifetime movies playing on loop, and pain meds on the table next to me.

  My mom comes and goes throughout the day, mostly just focusing on taking care of Jones and making sure I haven’t died of loneliness.

  Cole comes by at some point to check in, but I don’t know what time, other than it’s finally dark outside. He crouches down in front of where I lay on the couch, then drops down onto his butt, leaning against the wall and keeping his eyes on me, not saying anything.

  “Thank you for helping today,” I say. “I know I give you grief about wanting to do things myself. But, I really appreciate your help.”

  He gives me a small smile.

  “I just wanna make sure you’re okay.”

  My brow furrows slightly.

  “But why?”

  He looks away from me, over to the kitchen where mom and Jones are making sugar toast or bagels or something that smells good and carby. But I can’t seem to shut my mouth.

  “Why do you care so much about us?”

  He still doesn’t answer.

  “You’re just… you’re such a wonderful person. But I’m afraid to start relying on you.” The last part comes out a whisp
er. “I don’t want you to weave yourself into the fabric of my life, only to change your mind and rip the seams.”

  His eyes fly to mine, and if I’m not mistaken, they’re a little bit misty.

  “I promise you, Annie. Promise. That’s not going to happen.”

  He reaches over and brushes some hair out of my face. Then he stands and heads into the kitchen, talking to mom and Jones for a second before leaving.

  A single tear tracks down my cheek, but I brush it away before Jones can see it when he brings me a piece of – I knew it – sugar toast.

  Then Jones gives me a kiss on the forehead before racing back to the kitchen to keep helping.

  I take a bite of my toast and let my eyes flit over the movie on TV. Lifetime movies are always romances. The underdog always gets the guy. The broken person always finds their pieces. The lost child is always found.

  I want so badly for the broken pieces of my life to start fitting back into a mold resembling something whole. But I just don’t even know where to start.

  «««« »»»»

  The next few days are pretty similar to that first one. My body hurts, I take pain meds and lie around. My mom takes care of Jones. Cole pops in and out to check in and help around the house.

  Luckily, my mom is able to focus on Jones completely. She takes him to a bounce place that has a ton of trampolines to jump around on, showing me videos on her phone of him launching himself into the air and into a huge pool of foam cubes. The three of us watch a million movies together and eat tons of junk food. Apart from the back pain and the literally drugged-up way I feel, it isn’t an entirely horrible few days.

  Finally, on Thursday, I wake up in my bed and roll over without any pain. I get out of bed slowly, take a long hot shower, and get myself fully ready for the day.

  When my mom shows up at 7 to start taking care of me and the kid, she looks startled when she finds me making breakfast and coffee in the kitchen, a sleepy Jones sitting at the kitchen table with his face literally flat on the table top.