Bring Me Back

by Micalea Smeltzer

  “Blaire, we’ll visit soon. The baby will be here in no time. Speaking of the baby,” my mom says, crossing her hands under her chin with her elbows on the table, “have you decided on a name?”

  I dam my tears back and take a sip of my iced tea. I’ll have to pee in five minutes from drinking the stuff, but it’s so good I can’t seem to stop. “No,” I say, sliding the drink cup away. “I’ve narrowed it down to five.”

  “And they are?” she prompts, batting her eyes, practically begging me to spill the beans.

  I shake my head. “Not telling.”

  She groans and sits back against the booth. “Dan, talk to your daughter.”

  My dad raises his hands innocently. “It’s her decision not to tell anyone and you have to respect that.”

  “Thanks, Dad.” I flash him a grateful smile.

  He tips his head at me. “You two are always conspiring against me,” my mom huffs.

  The waitress stops back by our table and gathers up the dirty dishes. “Can I get you anything else?”

  “Uh, yeah,” I say. “I want a chocolate shake to go.”

  “Whipped cream and cherry?”

  “Yes, please.”

  “Anything for you guys?” she asks my parents. They shake their heads. “I’ll be right back with that milkshake,” she says with a kind smile.

  “So, you’re really going to miss us then, Kid?” My dad asks.

  I nod, pulling my hair back into a messy bun and securing it with a hairband. “Yeah, I am,” I say—there goes my lip wobbling again.

  My mom reaches across the table. “We’re only a phone call away if you need us,” she assures me.

  I nod. “I know.” My mom exchanges a look with my dad. She’s worried about me. She’s worried them leaving will set me back and I’ve been doing so much better. I don’t want her to feel like she has to stay because of me, though, and I know that the best thing for me is for them to go. Then I’ll have to rely solely on myself again. “Don’t worry about me,” I tell her. “I don’t want you to go but I’ll be okay.”

  “You’re a fighter, Kid.” My dad tips his drink glass up and crunches on a piece of ice.

  “Thanks, dad,” I say.

  The waitress returns with my milkshake and the check. I try to pay but my dad insists it’s his treat.

  I slide out of the booth and we head outside. The sun blazes above us and the humidity is thick in the air.

  “Well,” my mom begins, “we have to go.”

  I wrap my arms around her neck and squeeze her so tight she squeaks. I loosen my grip. “I love you.”

  “I love you too, B.” She lets me go and there are tears in her eyes. She hurries to get in the rental car before she completely breaks down.

  “Well, Kid—” my dad ruffles the hair on top of my head, destroying my bun “—we’ll see you soon.”

  I open my arms wide. “Come here,” I say. “There’s no way you’re leaving without giving me a hug.” He chuckles and wraps me up in the biggest bear hug ever. A tear leaks out of my eye, absorbed by the material of his shirt. “Bye, Dad. I love you.”

  “Love you too, Kid.” He ruffles my hair again and then gets in the car.

  I stand in the lot and watch them pull away. My mom looks back and I wave. She lifts her hand too, and keeps it there until they completely disappear from sight.

  I exhale a heavy breath I didn’t realize I was holding.

  I get in my car and drink my milkshake. I don’t have any meetings with clients this afternoon so I have nothing to do until it’s time for Group. I decide to call Ryder.

  “Hey?” he answers on almost the last ring.

  “I just said goodbye to my parents,” I say, the sadness echoing in my voice.

  “Oh. How are you feeling?”

  “Sad,” I answer honestly. “What are you doing?”

  “Just hanging out here at the house with Cole. Do you want to come over? It’s pretty boring here but you’ll be with us.”

  “Yeah.” I nod. “I’d like that.”

  “I’ll see you soon then.”

  “Yep.” I hang up and drop the phone on the seat beside me.

  I finish my milkshake and get out and toss it in the trashcan in front of the diner. I then decide to stop by Target and pick up a few toys for Cole. I get an assortment of things—like puzzle piece alphabet letters and a talking dinosaur thing—since I don’t really know what he likes.

  When I get to Ryder’s house, he answers the door with Cole clinging to his leg screaming bloody murder.

  “The Terrible Twos,” Ryder sighs, stepping back so I can come inside.

  “What’s he upset about?” I ask.

  “I told him he couldn’t hold the fish.”

  I snort. “Interesting.”

  “Yeah.” Ryder chuckles. “Being a parent is weird sometimes.”

  “Maybe this will make it better.” I hold out the bag from Target.

  Ryder peeks in the bag and grins at what he finds. He looks back up at me and the look in his eyes makes my stomach clench in anticipation. He looks like he’s about to kiss me, but he quickly shakes his head and the look disappears.

  “You got these for Cole?” he asks, even though he already knows.

  I nod.

  “Me! Me!” Cole cries, having heard his name. He lets go of Ryder’s leg and makes a grabbing motion with his hands.

  Ryder pulls out the large size racecar I got. “Here you go, bud.” He hands it to Cole after pulling off the price sticker.

  Cole starts driving it around on the floor making car noises. “Vroom, vrooooom.”

  “Enjoy the playtime,” Ryder says. “It’s naptime in…” He looks at his watch. “Ten minutes.”

  Cole frowns. “No. No nap.”

  “Yes, nap.” Ryder bends down and tickles his stomach. The little boy’s laughter fills the room. I can’t help but smile at the father and son. “Bring your car into the family room, Cole.” Ryder says and the little boy toddles along, following him.

  I linger behind, just watching them. When I take a seat on the couch I say, “How did you feel when he first started walking and talking? You know, without Angela being here to see and hear it too.”

  He shrugs. “I tried not to think about it. I can’t change the fact that she’s gone so I choose not to dwell on it. I don’t want to feel saddened by milestones in his life just because she’s not here, you know?”

  “That makes sense,” I say, resting my hand on my stomach.

  “You’re thinking about your baby,” he surmises.

  I nod. “Ben’s the one that wanted to have a baby—not that I didn’t want a baby,” I hasten to add, “but I probably would’ve waited if he hadn’t brought it up. Once we made up our minds that we were going to try we both wanted this baby so bad,” I say, my throat growing thick with emotion. “I feel like I took a hundred negative pregnancy tests. I know that’s not true, but all the negatives seemed endless. And then, when it finally happened, Ben wasn’t even here to know.” I lean my head back against the pillows on the couch and rub my stomach. “She’s a gift, that’s for sure.”

  Ryder picks up Cole from the floor and sits him in his lap. “You’ll be a good mom.”

  I quirk a brow. “Really? I wonder sometimes,” I sigh.

  “You will be,” he assures me. “All right,” he says, “naptime.”

  “No!” Cole cries, kicking his legs.

  Ryder laughs and looks over at me. “Want to help with naptime?”

  I eye the squirming child. “Um …”

  Ryder stands and holds his hand down to me. “Come on,” he coaxes. I reluctantly put my hand in his and follow him upstairs to Cole’s room. He sets Cole on the floor and says, “Go pick out your pajamas, Coley.”

  Cole runs over to a chest and tugs on the bottom drawer. He struggles so I bend down to help him.

  The little boy smiles gratefully at me and pulls out a pair of pajamas with various Disney characters on them. He shoves t
hem at me and tries to close the drawer, making the cutest grunting noise.

  “You dwess me.” Cole points at me and then him.

  “Me?” I ask in surprise.

  The little boy nods and starts stripping off his clothes.

  “Whoa, whoa, whoa,” Ryder chants and scoops up the little boy. “Diaper change first.”

  “Ugh.” Cole grunts in irritation.

  Ryder carries him over to the changing table and changes his diaper. He then sets the little boy on the bed in only his diaper.

  “He’s all yours.” He winks and stands back, crossing his arms over his chest to watch me.

  I stand up and dress Cole in the pajamas he picked out.

  “Ook! Ook!” He chants, jumping on the bed.

  “Look? Look where?” I look up at the ceiling and all around.

  Ryder laughs. “Not look. Book. He wants you to read him a story.”

  “Oh,” I say, stifling my own laugh. Cole holds out his arms for me to pick him up. I hesitantly pick him up and he holds on tight to me. I carry him over to his bookshelf and let him pick. He points and I pick up the book. “To Give A Mouse A Cookie,” I read the title. “Good choice.” I carry him back over to his toddler bed and put him down. “You have to lay down under the covers if I’m going to read to you,” I tell him.

  He nods so I pull back the covers and he scoots under them, giggling when I draw them up to his chin. I lie down beside him and crack open the book. I begin to read and he snuggles against me. I stiffen at first and then relax. He giggles when I make funny voices for the characters and points at the pictures, naming various objects in them. By the time I make it to the end, he’s fast asleep and I close the book, easing out of the bed. Ryder’s gone and I hadn’t even noticed he left.

  I ease out of the little boy’s room and close the door.

  I find Ryder downstairs in the kitchen making a cup of coffee.

  “You left,” I say. “Why?”

  He shrugs and grabs a mug from a cabinet. “You didn’t need me. You’re a natural. I told you that you’d be a good mom.” He gives me a significant look as he pours his coffee.

  I swallow thickly. “But that was only for a moment,” I argue. “This will be all the time.” I touch my stomach.

  Ryder steps around the counter and pulls out a kitchen chair, taking a seat. I do the same. “I know it seems overwhelming, but trust me, once the baby is here you’ll forget all that.”

  “I’ll be all alone,” I say, my voice cracking. “How can I do this by myself?”

  “I did.” His voice is soft. “And look at Cole. He’s happy and healthy, and me? I’m good too.” He leans back in the chair and takes a sip of his coffee. “You will be too.”

  The baby kicks and I smile, pressing my hand against the spot. “I think she’s telling me you’re right.” I laugh. Ryder smiles, looking at my stomach. “Do you … want to feel?” I ask hesitantly.

  He looks surprised but his lips crook up into a smile. “Sure.” He holds out his hand and I take it, pressing against my stomach. She wiggles around so I move his hand to a different spot.

  “Just wait,” I whisper, holding my hand over his.

  She gives a good solid kick and Ryder’s breath catches. “Nothing else in the world compares to that feeling,” he says, looking up at me. She kicks again and he laughs. “She’s a strong one.”

  “She is,” I agree and release his hand. He sits back and his hand falls away. “My friends want to throw me a baby shower.” I sigh.

  He raises a brow. “And that’s a bad thing?”

  I shrug. “I don’t really know anyone except the three of them. My mom said I should invite the people from Group. Do you think they’d be into that sort of thing?”

  He shrugs and takes another sip of coffee. “I think some might.”

  “Hmm,” I hum. “Maybe I should let them do it then. I’m the first one in our group of friends to have a baby.”

  “You should definitely let them. Plus, a baby shower means diapers—and trust me, you’re going to need diapers. I’ll never understand how something so small can poop so much.”

  I laugh. “I’ve always wondered that myself. There’s something else I wanted to ask you …” I hedge.

  “Yes?” he prompts, lifting a brow.

  “I need to start ordering the furniture for the nursery …” I wiggle around, uncomfortable in this conversation. “… and I was wondering if maybe you’d help put it together.”

  “I can do that.”

  He didn’t pause, or hesitate for even a millisecond when answering me.

  “Are you sure?” I ask.

  “Yeah, it’s not a big deal. It’ll be fun.”

  “Fun?” I repeat in disbelief.

  “You’ll be there, right?” he counters.

  “Yes,” I say slowly, unsure where he’s going with this.

  “Then it’ll be fun.” He grins now. “Trust me.”

  “Thanks,” I say.

  He narrows his eyes on me. “You should know by now that I’d do just about anything for you.” I look away, my cheeks heating. “Why does that embarrass you?” He questions, noticing the flush in my cheeks.

  “I’m not embarrassed,” I say. “I’m … pleased.”

  “Pleased?” He smiles and sits back in the chair. “Good to know.”

  “I better go,” I say, standing.

  He grabs my hand. “Stay.”

  “Why?” I ask, my fingers shaking in his grasp.

  “I could give you some bullshit answer here, but really it’s simple. You should stay because you want to, and I want you to, too.”

  “How do you know I want to stay?” I ask, my voice soft.

  “Because you wanted to go.”

  “That makes no sense.” I shake my head.

  “You decided to leave because you were feeling too comfortable. It was fight or flight. Simple as that. I’m asking you to fight. To stay.”

  I sit back down in the chair and my breath shakes because this man … this man is getting to me. I’m imagining more with him. Kisses and romantic dates. Cooking dinners together and giving the kids baths. I’m beginning to imagine a life with him. It’s scary, and the reason I wanted to leave—so he’s completely right when he says I wanted to leave because I wanted to stay.

  “This whole thing confuses me,” I confess.

  “It does me too.” He shrugs, wrapping his long fingers around the coffee mug. “This isn’t easy for me, either, you know?”

  I look at him from beneath my lashes. “I never really thought about that.”

  “I know you haven’t, and that’s okay. You have enough on your mind. But when you get freaked out by what you’re feeling just talk to me, I might be feeling it too and it helps to talk.”

  I clear my throat. “D-Do you see a future with me in it?”

  “Yes,” he answers without hesitation. “Do you see a future with me?”

  I blink back the tears. “Yes,” I confess.

  “And that frightens you.” I nod. “It does me too,” he sighs. “I think something would be wrong with us if it didn’t scare us.”

  I smile a bit at that. “This is normal,” I state.

  “Completely normal,” he agrees. “That’s why I keep saying it’s okay to take our time. If it ever gets to be too much for you just tell me and we’ll slow down.”

  “The same goes for you too,” I tell him. “You can tell me if it becomes too much.”

  He nods. “I know.” He stands from the table and holds out his hand to me. I place mine in his without a second of thought. “I want to show you something.”

  He leads me outside and around the side of the house to a shed. He lets go of my hand and twists the round knob on the combination. It comes undone and he swings the doors open.

  I eye him. “You’re not taking me in here to chop me into a million pieces are you?”

  He laughs. “No. This is my workshop.”

  He flicks on a light and the sh
ed is bathed in brightness. “Oh,” I say, stepping inside. Wood shavings litter the floor along with other various debris. There’s a work table in the corner with a saw and an island-type counter in the center of the shed covered in metal pieces. My gaze moves to a wrought iron headboard leaning against one wall. “So, you make things?” I ask.

  “Yes, and refurbish them, like the chandelier in the baby’s room.” He shrugs and stuffs his hands in the pockets of his shorts. “It’s my hobby. I like taking old things and making them new again.”

  I brush my fingers through some wood shavings on the table and then blow the dust off my fingers. “Are you good at everything you do?”

  He chuckles. “Hardly.”

  “This is beautiful.” I point to a step stool. It has the start of Cole’s name carved into it—with letters that can pop out and go back in.

  “Thanks,” he says. “So,” he starts, “what’s your hobby?”

  My brows furrow. “I’m not sure I have one.”

  He chuckles and steps around the other side of the counter so we’re standing in front of each other. “Of course you do. Everybody has one.”

  “Um,” I think, “I like to read?” It comes out sounding like a question. “But you already knew that.”

  “That’s definitely a hobby, but there must be something else.”

  “I like to bake. I’m not very good.” I laugh. “But I like it.” My mind goes back to Thanksgiving, and the ill-fated pie I’d tried to make. Life was so much simpler then.

  “Why’d you stop?” he asks.

  “Life, I guess.” I shrug, picking up a small piece of wood before setting it back down. “I haven’t had the time.”

  “Make the time,” he says. “It helps.”

  “It does?”

  He nods. “I stopped making things after Angela and I got married. Like you said, I didn’t have the time. But when she died I needed something to quiet my mind and my mom reminded me that I used to love this, so I started up again and haven’t stopped since. It takes me a while to finish a project, but that’s okay. It quiets my mind and keeps me from dwelling on things.”

  “Hmm,” I hum. “I’ll have to try. Maybe I can make Cole and you some cupcakes. What’s your favorite?”

  “Chocolate.” He grins. “Cole’s too. We both love chocolate anything.”