Between The Sheets

by Julie Prestsater

  A giant O forms on her mouth, and her eyes shoot wide open in surprise. “Shelly Fuller, my best friend since I was just a little girl. My only sister from another mister. Are you trying to tell me something?”

  Now, it’s my turn to turn on the waterworks. All I can do is nod.

  In seconds, she has flung herself across the sofa and is squeezing me to death. I can hear her sobs and the shaking of her body in my arms.

  “Oh, Shel,” she blubbers. “I’m so, so happy for you.” She backs away and gazes down at my belly, before looking up at me. “Congratulations, mama.” And then she hugs me again. “Details,” she says, as she scoots herself toward her original seat. “I want all the details.”

  Matty is already in bed with an ereader in his hand when I saunter in with a late night snack. A small bowl of Captain Crunch should hit the spot. If not, there’s always seconds. Or ice cream.

  “Got a little hungry, huh?” A little smirk plays on his face.

  My knee goes down on the mattress first. He reaches out and takes the cereal from my hands so I can’t get comfortable without making a mess of our bed. When I’m all settled, he gives it back after shoveling a bite into his own mouth. “I don’t know if I’m really hungry, or if I’m just being mental. I feel like I’m craving food all the time now that I know we have a little guy growing in here.”

  With his free hand, he reaches over and places a palm to my belly. “Honey, you were always hungry before. I hate to break it to you but this is nothing new.”

  “Whatever,” I say through a mouthful of Crunch Berries.

  “I take it everything went well today. Mel sent me about five different texts telling me congrats and to make sure I take care of you while she’s gone.”

  I shake my head just thinking of my best friend’s concern. “She sent me quite a few too. She told me not to let you blow in my hooha. Who does that? I don’t think you’ve blown in my cooch, have you?”

  Matty fumbles his electronic book and it falls to the floor with a thud on the frieze carpeting. “No, I’ve never blown inside it.” He chuckles. “Now, I can’t stop thinking about a puffer fish.” He scratches his head with a smile as I struggle to keep my food in my mouth.

  “A puffer fish?” I say, when I finally swallow. “I’m going to have nightmares about my vagina inflating like a balloon.”

  He laughs again. “Not that I want to, but why can’t I blow down there.”

  I go on to tell him that Mel read somewhere that it could cause an air embolism. I bet it’s one of her grandma’s old wives’ tales. Matty just raises a brow at me, shuddering while I give him the details. Great, I’ll be lucky if I ever get him to go down there again. Like I really want my husband to think about a bloating fish and the possibility of killing me when he’s staring down my whispering eye. Thanks a lot, Mel.

  “What about your brother? Did you tell him?”

  “Yeah.”

  “And?”

  “He’s a guy. He’s happy. You don’t have to worry about texts from him.”

  I set my empty bowl on my nightstand and flip the light switch to dim my side of the room. My husband reaches over and flips his off as well. Like clockwork, we’re snuggled together like two spoons in a silverware drawer. A light sheet covers us as I settle my booty into his lap, and his arms wrap around mine. His soft kisses on my bare shoulder ignite fireworks up and down my body.

  “By the new year, we’re going to be parents,” Matty murmurs against my neck. “I can’t wait to see my baby in your arms. You’re going to be the most beautiful mother I’ve ever seen.”

  My nose tingles and tears sting my eyes with emotion. “And you’re going to be the best daddy ever.” I tilt my head back and kiss the tip of his nose. “And the hottest.”

  “I love you, Shelly.”

  “And I love you.”

  Chapter 12

  Melissa

  The constant ringing of the phone in my ear isn’t promising. He hasn’t answered yet so maybe he doesn’t miss me as much as I miss him.

  “Melly!” he calls out, breathless. “You there?”

  “Yeah.” He’s still breathing hard, and boy does that do wonders for my lady love.

  “Sorry, babe. I was just getting out of the shower and I heard your ring coming from my room. And then I had to dig around in my bed to find it.” The sound of his voice is slowly getting back to normal.

  “Ring?” Curiosity killed the cat but I can’t help asking. “What ring?”

  He chuckles. “Well, I kinda set a new ring tone to your contact info. That way I know when you’re calling and I don’t let it go to voicemail.”

  Or so he knows when he doesn’t need to take the call. Damn it. I’m giving myself some bad mojo. Tyler isn’t like that. “I’ll bite. You already know the FNL theme song comes on for you, so what do you have for me?”

  There’s that laugh again. I wish I could see his face. I bet he’s smiling like crazy, proud of himself with whatever gag song he has picked out for me. “Heard of Ludacris?”

  “Duh. I’m a teacher. I’m not dead. I know who he is. Lil Wayne too. And Drake. And all the rest of them. I guess you’d be surprised to know they’re all on my iPod.”

  “Wow, look at you. My very own hoodrat.”

  I bust up at that one. “Hoodrat, hoodrat, hoochie mama.” Oh, if he only knew how true that statement is. My stomach does a flip in response so I try changing the subject. “Shut up. I’m surprised you know who he is.”

  “What? Just because I’m an artist and hate to wear shoes, you think all I listen to is the Counting Crows?”

  “No, Dave Matthews Band too.”

  “Ha!” he shouts, along with a round of laughter. “You’re priceless, Mel.”

  “Well, c’mon. The song?”

  “Oh, I almost forgot. It’s My Chick Bad.” A little snicker comes through the phone.

  “My chick hood?”

  “My chick do stuff that your chick wish she could,” he says with such rap star flair.

  I crack up at his Luda impression. “Yeah, I bet.”

  “Honey, you are one talented woman.”

  “How would you like to get another taste of my talents?” I saw a window and I took it. My teeth clinch and I hold my breath for a response.

  “I’d love one. Tell me you’re already in the car and on your way up here.” His tone peaks with the excitement of a little boy.

  “Not quite. But I don’t think I can wait three weeks. I may be on my way up tomorrow.” There’s a long silence as I wait impatiently for him to reply. It doesn’t come. “Hey, it was just an idea. I don’t have to. I can wait.”

  “It’s not that, Mel. I want you here. But I feel like I’m being a selfish ass making you do all the commuting. I don’t want this to be one-sided and for you to feel like I’m taking advantage of you.”

  “It’s just a little driving. No biggie. If you want me there, I’m there. If not, then I’ll stay put. It’s your call.” My fingers instinctively cross as I wait, yet again.

  Only this time, it’s less than a second before he says, “Do you have to wait until tomorrow? Come now.”

  My earlier conversation with Tyler makes this very awkward appointment a little easier to handle. Having my mom at my side helps too. The waiting room in this OB office is very modern with neutral colors for the most part with a pop of color here and there. It reminds me of a model home, with all new decor that’s so precise you’re afraid to touch anything. I glance at the wall paintings and they remind me of Ty. Not that they look anything like his work, but art alone, anywhere and everywhere makes me think of him.

  My right leg bounces up and down as I scan each of the women. Some are with their significant others. Some are married based on their ring fingers. Some not. One is probably with her mother like me. I want to stand up and shout, “No, my baby doesn’t have a deadbeat dad. He just doesn’t know yet or he’d be here,” but I don’t. It feels weird though, seeing these couples together and I
brought my mama. Now, I really do feel like a hoodrat. Like everyone is judging me.

  Oh, fuck that. I’m over thirty years old, if I want to have a baby on my own, I can. And I’d probably do a better job single than some married parents. So, bite me is what I say to any judgmental asses in this room.

  “Melissa,” a woman in beige scrubs with a sage-colored patchwork print calls out my name.

  I’m on my feet and walking to the door when I realize my mother is staying put. I motion for her to come with me. Reluctantly, she stands and shuffles over.

  “I wasn’t sure,” she whispers.

  With my head on her shoulders as we follow the nurse, I tell her, “Right now, I need my mama more than ever, so stay close. Always.”

  Before I can even sit on the patient table, the nurse in the super comfortable looking scrubs hands me a cup and asks for a sample. She also explains that I need to get naked and put on the paper gown before the doctor comes in.

  Nice. I thought we might get to know each other first before I start handing over my fluids.

  After willing my bladder to let the flood gates open, I leave my specimen cup in the secret pass-through compartment in the wall and make my way to the exam room. Within minutes I’m shivering in my paper gown, having shed all my clothing like a freaking ninja so my mom wouldn’t have to see my white ass.

  The door swings open along with a cold breeze, causing my nipples to stand at attention. And holy shit, if it wasn’t the chill, my nips may have called out anyway. Sweet jeezus, this is not my regular doctor.

  The fine piece of manhood reaches out his hand. “Hello there, Melissa. I’m Dr. Bryant.” When I suddenly become mute, he continues by introducing himself to my mother, and then addressing me again. “Dr. James is on maternity leave so I’m filling in for her until she gets back. But don’t worry, I’ve been doing this for years. I have two beautiful children of my own and my wife tells me I have a great bedside manner.”

  I bet she does. The man is like milk chocolate, all smooth and yummy with his height and muscular build. Dark skin and light green eyes. Holy shit. How am I going to let this god-like creature with soft strong hands and a great bedside manner touch me?

  He goes on to ask the regular questions. Have I had any spotting, cramps, blah, blah, blah? How am I feeling? My medical history which my mom helps me with. Then he gets real personal and asks about my baby daddy. I’m completely honest and tell him I’m not married and I haven’t told Ty because I wanted to be sure I’m really pregnant. He nods with a sympathetic smile and taps away on his computer.

  “So I hear you have irregular cycles and are not sure when you last had your period. Is that correct?”

  I go on to explain how I run and I never keep track, but maybe the last time I had it was around my birthday.

  “Well, according to the good ol’ urine test, you’re coming up positive for pregnancy. What we need to do now is an internal exam, listen for a heartbeat since I’m guessing we’re far enough along. And then we’ll get you set up for an ultrasound.” He places his tablet on the counter and calls out for a nurse.

  “All that? Today?” I ask. It’s not what I expected. Everything online said first appointments were a bit of a let-down. But this, this is way more than I could have imagined.

  “Melissa, it’s important that we get some accurate measurements on your baby. It will help us establish a due date and allow you to make plans for the duration of your pregnancy. I’m assuming you’d like to know when your baby is going to be done cooking, right?” His eyes twinkle with a smile. They freaking twinkle. I may want my baby to stay in the oven if that means I get to ogle this doctor for longer.

  “Yes, that’d be nice.”

  A nurse or nurse’s assistant comes in and she starts flipping up things here and there on the exam table. The most notable, of course, are the stirrups.

  “Mom,” he says, “Why don’t you come up here?” I’ll have to thank him later for not giving my mom a cooch shot. Instead, she’s standing right next to my face and I take her hand.

  The nurse places a light blanket over my bottom half and lifts my feet into the dreaded stirrups. This isn’t my first rodeo, but it’s never a pleasant one. I can’t think of any woman who has ever enjoyed this.

  The doctor slides a pair of purple gloves on his hands and stands beside me. First, he measures my belly with a tiny tape measure. Then, he explains that I’ll feel some pressure as he does the pelvic exam to check my uterus. Oh, fun times.

  When he’s finished with the exam, and I’m done wincing at the uncomfortable intrusion into my body, he says, “Well, you’re definitely far enough along to hear the heartbeat so let’s take a listen.”

  The nurse removes my feet from the stirrups and slides out a platform for me to rest my legs. With the blanket still covering my lower half, the doctor takes what looks like a microphone and shimmies it in the opening of my gown. A switch is flipped and he pushes the sucker onto my belly.

  At first, there is static coming from a small speaker nearby. Then …

  Oh my god. One hand shoots up to my mouth, and my eyes focus on my mom’s as I squeeze her hand with my other one.

  “Is that it? Is that my baby?” She nods and a quick glance at the doc shows off his sweet smile. The rhythm of the whooshing sound is amazing. “This is crazy. I’ve watched this scene in so many movies, but this is real. It’s real, isn’t it?”

  “It’s very real,” Dr. Bryant says. “Wait till you see the ultrasound.”

  I’m leaving early tomorrow morning to San Francisco. That leaves me with less than twenty four hours to figure out how to tell Tyler Gelson that he is going to be a father come December. Less than twenty four hours to tell him I’m fourteen weeks pregnant. Out of my first trimester. There’s a heartbeat. There’s a real baby. I saw her in the ultrasound. Not that I know she’s a she. I don’t want to know yet. For that, I have to wait for Ty. But she’s real. A beautiful face, arms, legs, hands, feet. Eyes, ears, a nose, and a mouth. She’s all there.

  But first, I have to tell my dad. If my mom didn’t already know, I’d have told Ty first. But she does know. And I can’t have her keeping a secret from my dad. That’s just not the way things roll in our house.

  With my feet tucked beneath me, I lounge on my mom’s sofa waiting for my dad to get home. Any minute he’s going to walk through that door and I’ll have to spill the beans.

  The question is, how?

  More than anything, I think every dad dreads hearing their daughters say the words, “I’m pregnant.” But I’m not a teenager anymore. Maybe he won’t be so disappointed I got knocked up out of wedlock. I’ll be the talk of the family with my aunts. That’s for sure. No doubt they’ll all be in church praying for me.

  Maybe I can just do it like that old Molly Ringwald movie, Playing For Keeps. “I’m pregnant, can you pass the turnips?” Who the hell eats turnips?

  There’s a sound at the door, the rustling of the door knob and then the thud of his giant footsteps on the hardwood floors. A few seconds later he appears in the archway leading into the room where my mom and I await.

  He takes off his black police department ball cap and I can already see the worry in his eyes. “What happened?”

  His eyes trail from mine to my mother’s and back to mine again. Then he glances at the death grip I have on the pillow and the tissue in my hands.

  My mother stands and is at his side in one graceful swoop. She circles her arms around him and lifts on tip toes to plant a kiss on his cheek. “Come, take a seat.”

  Before he does, he closes his strong arms around her for a brief moment and presses a soft kiss to the top of her head. My heart fills with admiration of the love they share. Close to forty years and counting and they still have it.

  He sits down across the sofa from me and reaches his hand over to cover mine. “What is it, Melissa?”

  “Well, it’s nothing bad, really? So you can just un-wrinkle your brow?” The crease between h
is eyes always gets to me. That look … like he’s scared and ready to kick ass at the same time.

  He throws an arm over the backrest, relaxing into the sofa cushions, and shifts to face me. “So tell me, mija. What’s not so bad?”

  I glance over at my mom and she nods. “Well, you’re going to be a grandpa?”

  He takes a gasp for air and then a smile creeps over his face. “Whoa,” he covers his chest with his hands, “that’s not bad at all. Congratulations.” His eyes shift to my mom. “We’re going to be grandparents. It’s about time.”

  The fear and worry escapes from my pores as I see the smile on my dad’s face brighten and light up the room. He’s not angry. He’s thrilled. Whew.

  “Wait a minute.” Oh shit. I knew it was too good to be true. “Where is Tyler? Why isn’t he here with you sharing the news?” I can’t help the frown that takes over my face as my fingernails turn into the most fascinating thing in the room. “Tyler Gelson is the father, right?”

  My head shoots up to look at my dad. “Of course my baby is Ty’s. I can’t believe you’d even ask that.”

  “Well, he’s not here. I can’t believe he’d be such a coward,” he says, his voice rising with each word.

  “Daddy, Ty is not a coward.” I pause, my lip quivering and my hands trembling. Fuck. “He doesn’t know yet.”

  “Why the hell not?” A hand flies up to press to his forehead, his signature I’m confused and irritated move.

  Because is all I want to say, but I know better. My dad is a master of interrogation because he happens to be an amazing cop and an even better dad. Shel and I could never get anything past him when we were younger and I still can’t. Apparently. It was dumb of me to think I might be able to share the news and walk out the door without a thousand questions. Why couldn’t he have just stopped at congratulations?

  “As you know, I just got back from San Francisco. I didn’t even know I was pregnant until Mom told me.”