by A. E. Murphy
“Drink this, little sips. Or is it big sips? Can you have a Zofran? Is that allowed? Lucas, Lucas, are pregnant women allowed Zofran? Excuse me ma’am.” I know I’m sick but listening to his frantic and panicked tone whilst firing his multitude of questions without even waiting for an answer is pretty darn funny. Now he has his hand in the air, using it to flag the air hostess down like an idiot. I grab his flailing arm, immediately halting his movements.
“Shut up will you.” I’m laughing but still, he needs to calm down.
His other hand goes straight to my belly, “I’m just worried. We should have gotten a train.” All that rocking and swaying and the long hours not to mention the many stops, no thank you. I don’t get a chance to say this though as he’s started firing questions at poor Lucas again who looks about ready to slap him. Unfortunately Sylvia is snoring away not far behind our own seats so she’s no help right now.
“Uncle James, be quiet,” Amelia snaps and repositions her head phones. Giggling like a piggy I recline my seat, relax back and fumble with my own headphones until I get them to the desired comfort on my head. James can panic alone, Star Trek is on.
I don’t eat the food, I try to sleep instead. We hit a little turbulence at one point but from vomiting four times I’m pretty worn out, that mixed with whatever the invader is doing to me. Is he a battery or something? I swear it feels like he’s charging and taking all of my energy. I might switch the name invader and call him Duracell instead. It seems just as fitting.
Fortunately I don’t fully wake until we are landing, in which case James wakes me up with a light shake to the arm and a soft kiss on my nose. I wouldn’t want to kiss my mouth either. Unfortunately I’ve not put a toothbrush in my travel bag. It’s somewhere in my suitcase, damn me and my disorganized ways. At least James had some mouthwash handy.
We have a driver waiting for us just on the other side of security. We’re all silent and grumpy, not much conversation happens unless you count grunting and humming as conversation, then yeah, we had a hell of a chat. I imagine it to be a lot like how cavemen used to communicate, minus the awesome outfits and makeshift clubs.
As soon as we exit the airport I genuinely feel like rolling around on the ground screaming, “LAND!” A little dramatic but now I’m not a mile high my stomach feels fine apart from a little fluttering in my belly that would rival that of a jar of butterflies.
The ride home is long and tiresome, we drop Lucas and Amelia off first at our old place, and then we drop Sylvia off and finally get to ours about an hour later because of crappy traffic. Now I need sleep, I need it like I need my next breath. I have that feeling where I’m about to cry because all I want is my bed, my back aches, my throat is burning and my legs have seized from lack of movement. Sucks to be me right now.
James clearly feels the same, he looks like he’s about to drop. We head up the elevator in silence, it’s weird to be back, and I’m too tired to put much thought into it right now.
The door opens to the apartment and I step through, there’s a sudden stillness between me and James, we have both stopped in our tracks. An unspoken conversation going on, I’m not sure what we’re saying through the tension that’s as thick as tar. Right now we’re both agreeing that words are better left unsaid until we aren’t fatigued and suffering with discomfort and a little jetlag. We aren’t in LA anymore, there’s no protective bubble around our relationship, there’s no hiding the reality of what is, we’ve just stepped into said reality, we’re standing by the wall where I said goodbye. This is so much harder than I thought it would be.
The problem is you didn’t think of it at all.
At least I didn’t have the slow buildup of nerves and constant unanswered questions swimming around my head that would have made this moment in time so much worse. One thing I am going to have to do most likely, is move out. Just for a while, until we’ve established ourselves and our relationship.
“Come on,” James says softly and takes my hand. I shake my head and pull it away, “I’m going to the spare room.” I grab my case but he takes it from me. “Please.” Even I’m a little disgruntled by the desperate tone to my voice.
Thankfully he nods, his face a blank mask and leads me down the hall, my shoulder’s sag with relief and the tension ebbs from my body. “You take our room, the bed’s better for your back. I’ll take the spare.”
“Thank you,” I murmur, just loud enough for him to hear. He smiles sadly at me and starts to turn, he stops again and leans forward. Before his lips touch mine I turn my head giving him my cheek. His hand cups the cheek that he kissed, with sad eyes and a thin lipped smile he backs away before leaving completely. I finally let out the breath I didn’t realize I was holding and pad into the bathroom. I’ll shower tomorrow, right now I have a furry tongue with matching teeth, brush first then bed.
Looking at myself in the mirror as I brush my pearly whites I prod my face, I don’t look different. I turn to the side and lift up my top. There’s definitely some rounding of the belly going on. I look back at my face, my skin is smoother, I have zero zits which is great but nothing is different, yet I feel more mature. I feel like I have aged ten years in the past few months alone. Is it possible that I’ve been tamed? I don’t feel the need for sex, I don’t feel the need to party?
You’re in love and you’re pregnant, take your pick of answers to that question.
I miss the old Maya.
I don’t even remember the old Maya, I don’t think I’ve heard from her in a while now, maybe since before my dad died. Tomorrow I’ll take some flowers to his grave before work, whenever I go there are always flowers there, he has a lot of visitors because he touched a lot of hearts that’s why I wasn’t too sad about leaving the state. That and I feel stupid for going, that sounds mean but I just don’t feel him anymore. I wish I could say, “Yes, he’s all around me.” In my world I feel him in my heart. Whether I visit his grave or not I keep his memory with me and that’s the best my mind can conjure, the best my emotions can feel and or handle.
There’s a moment, a moment in time where you get a feeling of deep despair. I got it when my dad told me his chemo had failed, that earth shattering moment when your heart stops and you struggle for breath. I got it when those pictures fell from that brown envelope. My hands trembled and my heart physically hurt. I have it again now as I stare down at our empty bed. My quivering fingers clasp the edge of the deep purple blanket and my arm moves forcing it to slide back revealing the grey bed sheet. The empty grey bed sheet. One that had no significance before but does now for whatever reason. I slide in, sighing as I sink into the mattress, a sigh of pure comfort. Resting my head back I place my hands on my belly and stare at the ceiling. This should be a happy moment for any couple, I should be over the moon, and we should be laid together right now with his hand stroking my stomach fondly. Arguing about names and talking about who he’ll look more like, what features he’ll get, etc. Am I really that bad of a person that I despise the situation I’m in? I’m unhappy and a little frantic at the fact an invader has taken up residence in my womb. Does this make me a bad mom? If I’m this angry and solemn over it now how will I be when I actually have him? What if I don’t love him enough, what if I fail? He’s just a baby, an innocent little being with no choice in this and he gets stuck with me as a mom. At least he has James for when I do suck. That helps me feel a little bit better.
I don’t doubt that I’ll love him.
And you will.
I don’t doubt that I’ll treasure him. I doubt my abilities as a person to give him what he needs emotionally. There are so many things I’ve messed up in my life I don’t want this poor little thing on the receiving end of my bullshit like so many before him.
You’re being morbid because you’re tired. Go to sleep and think more in the morning.
Now that sounds like a grand plan.
I don’t know why but I had a dream last night about a certain event in my life, it was about James’ prop
osal. I remember it like it was yesterday.
A week after my father told me to marry James, he called me and invited me to the Ritz for dinner. I knew what was coming, I remember feeling like the world was about to end, much like I do now. He picked me up looking handsome as usual in a black tailored suit. The full memory is obviously hazy but from there we sat at a table in a private room. He was nervous, all of his movements were shaky and a little clumsy. He even tipped his glass over at one point. Fortunately it was only water and the wave missed us both. Still funny though.
Like the bitch I was (and still am) I said, “Look, we both know why we’re here. Let’s just get the ring on, discuss the terms and go home to our lives.”
His mouth fell open in shock, he obviously found it funny, probably thinking I was as nervous as him. I wasn’t, I was just impatient and annoyed with the situation, that and because I wanted to see the ring he’d chosen. “Ok. Sure.” He went to stand, no doubt to get on his knee. I stopped him, there was no need for romance so I held out my hand. Keep in mind I wasn’t in a good place as it was with my father being ill and all. “Maya Elizabeth Johnson. Will you do me the honor of becoming my wife?”
“Yep,” I replied with a fake grin and held out my left hand. Kudos to the man, he picked a good ring, it is a gorgeous platinum band with intricate carvings leading to the huge square stone in the middle. Perfect and elaborate, exactly how I liked and still like things. My fake grin soon turned real, “This is beautiful. Truly, it’s perfect.”
Christ I even remember straight after this I got a text from Paul asking me to come over. It was the first text in ages as we normally just had sex if we ever bumped into each other. He was a good lay though. Wow that sounds vulgar, I apologize. He was good in bed.
The worst part of this is when James took me home I could tell he was expecting me to invite him up by the way he was shifting and the fact he walked me to the door, I was living with my father as I figured he would’ve needed constant care soon enough.
When I stopped at the door to say goodnight he instantly leaned in and gave me the sweetest kiss I’ve ever received, he kissed me with a barely there tongue and a light brushing of lips. It made me burn in ways I’d never felt. So why you ask, why didn’t I sleep with him? This is because during the dinner, after accepting the engagement ring we decided to spend the next year until our wedding, free to do as we please, discretely of course. Worst conversation ever. I think I really broke his heart that moment when I said I wasn’t ready to settle quite yet, it was his idea though, he proposed the whole freedom until our wedding thing but I think he was secretly hoping I’d say let’s start now.
“I should go,” I said and pointed to the door with my thumb. He nodded looking slightly baffled and a little hurt. “Thank you for this,” I flashed my ring. “And for the wonderful evening.”
Then I vanished inside before he could stop me and fifteen minutes later Paul showed up. I grabbed him instantly and pulled him to me, desperate to get the taste of the man who I was going to spend an eternity with off my lips. Paul as usual returned my kiss with as much fervor if not more than myself. After a minute or two we stopped and stared at each other breathing heavily, then that familiar smile stretched across his face. He didn’t hold my hand on the way to the car, I didn’t like that, and he didn’t touch me at all outside of sex unless I instigated it.
We couldn’t stay at mine due to my dad being ill and sleeping, plus having sex under the same roof as your parent… just weird. When we got to Paul’s place we burst through the door and soon I had him pressed up against the wall whilst I ripped his blue top from his body and tossed it behind me. I hopped on one foot, kicking my shoe off as he untied his laces. As soon as we were both bare footed we slammed back into each other, tugging and stepping out of clothes, leaving a trail of metaphorical breadcrumbs to his bedroom where we fell onto the unmade bed.
Paul wasn’t huge or anything, he was average size but he knew how to use it, that and his magic tongue. We fucked, pure and simple and what an amazing fuck it was. Sweaty body on sweaty body. Clashing, slamming, moaning, crying out, grabbing, the entire time my eyes were shut tight.
“Stay with me,” I remember him asking as he had so many times before. The worst part is I never even once felt tempted. Not like I had with James when he asked. Of course I cared about Paul but not enough to make him happy like that. There are lines you don’t cross in arrangements like that. “Please.” He reached from the bed where he lay on his side breathing heavy, his head propped up on his arm. I’d gathered my clothes at this point and was in the process of zipping up my dress.
If I’d been a caring person I’d have noticed the look he was giving me was one of restraint and hurt. Like he was ready to jump up and pin me to the bed. Unfortunately I was too oblivious to those kinds of feelings to recognize them. If I had I could have saved myself and James a lot of heartache by ending it then.
Now to the bad part of this night, the next part I dreamt about. We drove home and he leaned over the console to kiss me. It was then he lay his hand over mine and found the rock sitting there. He suddenly went stiff, his lips lingering on mine. When he pulled back and looked at my hand, clearly my left hand he gulped and then looked back up at me.
“What the fuck is this?” his voice was lower than a whisper, as if he was talking through an exhale. “You’re engaged?”
I nod, “Yeah but I’m free until the wedding.”
“To who?” he said with another gulp, his hands fisted on the steering wheel. All things I didn’t notice as something to acknowledge with any more than a passing glance, at the time I genuinely thought he wasn’t bothered, just annoyed our time was coming to an end. “To James,” I responded around a yawn. “I’m exhausted. I should go in.”
He didn’t push, didn’t say anything. One thing I did notice as I was getting out of the car was the tear that trickled down his cheek and fell from his chin. I excused it as his hay fever playing up, he used to get really bad hay fever. Deep down I think I knew, I think I just didn’t want to address it, I didn’t want our casual times to end, because I was selfish. Kind of like the past few days at Jacob’s with James, I buried it all under a barrier of every kind of solid material known to man and left it there until now. Most of the time I don’t realize I’m doing it.
Ok, enough of memory lane, I should really move from bed. I need to jog but I don’t know if that’s allowed, plus I’m too tired in all honesty. Instead I climb into the shower and stand under the red hot spray for as long as necessary. When I’m out I spend extra time on my hair and wear a tunic style black dress with nude stockings and black pumps. I know you aren’t supposed to wear heels in pregnancy, James kindly informed me yesterday. Totally sucks but it’ll be nice to have an excuse to give my feet a rest for a while.
When I’m finished I fill my bag with essentials for work and step out of my room. Each step brings me closer to the noises coming from the kitchen. I know its James, that’s what makes it worse. Is it wrong that I really don’t know how to react?
“I was just making you breakfast,” he says as I step in. His eyes slowly peruse me from head to toe and back up, he gulps. I do the same with him, he’s casual in jeans and a white button up. Hot with a capital H. “Hungry?” I look at the cereal bowl and smirk, it’s one of three things that James can make successfully.
Another awkward silence follows, I slide onto a stool at the breakfast bar and fill my mouth. Easier than talking right now. All that can be heard is our spoons against the bowls, the occasional slurp followed by a crunch and another and another. He opens his mouth after swallowing, decides to not say anything and refills his mouth instead. I look at everything but at him. We have refrigerator magnets, I didn’t know this, cute little silver spirals and stars that are holding up a picture Amelia clearly painted of a… is that an owl? On further inspection I see the large disfigured script of two separate words that I’m sure reads ‘Uncle James’… Ha! There’s also a photo of
me and James in bed, only my eyes are visible over the edge of the blanket. My head is resting under James’s chin, he’s sleeping. I vaguely remember taking this picture a while ago on his phone. When did he print it off?
“Do you want to ride to work together?” he asks suddenly, making me jump a little. I swallow my mouthful and shake my head, “No, I’ve got a driver coming. I’m heading up to my dad’s grave first.”
“I can take you.” A frown forms on his face, he’s preparing himself for my rejection.
He’s right to prepare, “Not today.”
He doesn’t push it, instead he comes around the breakfast bar and kisses my forehead before taking my bowl to the dishwasher. I head to the door with him by my side. “My car is probably waiting.”
“Of course.” He leans forward, I give him the cheek. “I’ll see you later.”
“I’m going to Marie’s after work so I doubt I will be home until late.”
I leave without waiting for an answer. If I think this has been hard I can only imagine how it’s going to be later in the office.
Chapter Seven
The cemetery is completely deserted and completely fucking cold. Not in LA anymore and winter is brewing. I wrap my jacket around myself wishing I’d worn pants instead of my flimsy dress. The grass is damp with dew, I can feel it on my knees and shins after plonking myself atop of his grave none too gracefully.
“I’m sorry I’m not going to be there to see you have kids,” he mumbles and kisses the top of my head. “I’m so sorry princess.”
His words swim through my mind and I can hear his voice as if he’s right beside me. I’m overcome with emotion. “I’m sorry too dad, I know you wanted a boy but you got me. Now I have a boy.” I let out a deep breath. I can do this. “What if I screw up? Like drop him or something. I wish I asked you, what I was like as a baby, I wish we spoke about that, maybe I wouldn’t be so freaked out about this. I remember you used to sing to me almost every night and if you didn’t sing you’d read.” Clearing of the throat and swallowing the lump threatening to rise and form into tears. “I’m talking to a gravestone.” I chuckle nervously and glance around, I’m still alone. “I miss you. You’d know what to do, you always did.”
