by Britt Morrow
“Dear Heavenly Father, we thank you for the wonderful gifts that you’ve bestowed upon us: a healthy family, an incredible meal, and wonderful friends to share it with. Amen.”
“Amen,” I echo heartily.
It’s the first time I’ve ever prayed. And quite possibly the last. But I can’t deny that the spread before us is heavenly.
Dwayne carves the turkey almost ceremonially while the rest of us watch, unspeaking.
“I’ll let our guests take first pick. Do you prefer light or dark meat, Charlie?”
“Light?” I’m sure that this is her first time eating turkey too. I’m equally sure that it will be much better than Colt’s squirrel pie, though.
Dwayne serves her a generous slice before continuing on to the rest of us. After the turkey is served, we pass around the rest of the dishes, piling our plates high with buttermilk biscuits, cornbread dressing, garlic mashed potatoes, and the famed sweet potato casserole with pecan crumble.
Jeremiah and Nia immediately dig in, forks ringing loudly against the delicate white plates. Charlie and I both wait for Dwayne though, who’s uncorking a bottle of red wine. He pours some for Gabrielle and Jeremiah before offering it to Charlie and me.
“I’m not usually one to encourage underage drinking, but it would be a shame to enjoy such a delicious meal without an equally delicious pinot noir.”
He hands the bottle to Jeremiah, who reaches for Charlie’s wine glass.
“None for me, thanks. I’m preg…” She stops mid-sentence realizing her mistake. “Not much of a drinker.”
I can tell by Jeremiah’s slack-jawed expression that the recovery came too late, though. I’m afraid to survey the looks on everyone else’s faces, but I can’t help myself. Gabrielle looks disappointed, Dwayne proud. They’re both thinking about Jeremiah. They’re both wrong. I didn’t get conned into it by some girl mistakenly thinking that this will make me love her, or feel forced into it by some misplaced sense of duty.
“Congratulations!” Gabrielle belatedly exclaims - but it lacks her usual warmth.
“You’re going to be a dad, Levi?” Jeremiah asks, shaking his head as if to trying to dispel an insect.
“Yeah, I can’t wait,” I respond, reaching for Charlie’s hand. It’s clammy in mine, and I can tell that she’s nervous. I give it a reassuring squeeze. Maybe it wasn’t the ideal timing, but I’m relieved to no longer be keeping it secret from Jeremiah.
“When?” Nia asks. She’s the only one who actually appears to be excited by the prospect of a baby.
“In May,” Charlie replies.
“You know, I probably have some of Jeremiah and Nia’s old baby stuff in storage in the attic.” Gabrielle appears to have recovered from the shock of the admission. She seems reassured by our display of affection - that this was a decision made out of love instead of fear and confusion.
“I keep telling her that she’s a hoarder,” Dwayne chuckles in an apparent attempt to lighten the mood.
The effort may have been transparent, but it works. Jeremiah and Nia immediately jump in to give their mom a hard time about the various art projects, clothing items, and keepsakes from their childhoods that she insists on saving. The awkwardness having subsided, I eagerly return to my meal, eating until my stomach feels like it’s straining against my other internal organs. Even Charlie manages to consume an impressive portion, and Jeremiah hasn’t mentioned the calorie count of any of the dishes even once.
The combination of the wine, copious amounts of carbs, and blithe conversation is starting to make me tired, so I’m relieved when Gabrielle suggests showing Charlie and me to the guest room that she’s made up for us. Like the rest of the house, it’s charming and well-appointed, with a handmade quilt and plenty of throw pillows that I’m sure Gabrielle made herself.
As soon as Gabrielle leaves, bidding us goodnight, I’m stripping off my jeans and eagerly climbing into the bed. I’ve never slept on anything this comfortable, or felt this satiated, so I’m anticipating a deep, dreamless sleep.
Charlie’s moving more slowly. She sits at the foot of the bed, withdrawing the ultrasound from her purse to stare at for a minute.
“It’s real now,” she says dazedly.
I know what she means. I’m not sure if it’s the ultrasound, admitting the pregnancy to Jeremiah’s family, or just watching Dwayne and Gabrielle interact and cherish their children, but the idea of parenthood has finally concretized for me. The responsibility, the pressure to provide the best of everything, but, ultimately, the life we have to look forward to if we do it right.
Chapter 20
“Did you ever do that assignment where you take a bag of flour for the week and have to pretend that it’s a baby?”
Charlie’s lying next to me in my single bed. It’s Christmas break, and this has become our habitual position over the past week. Jeremiah’s home with his family for the holidays, as is pretty much everyone else in the dorm, so it feels like it’s just the two of us in our own little apocalyptic world.
“No. I think that’s only in movies.”
“I thought everyone was supposed to do it in health class at some point.”
I shrug. “Our health class only consisted of some lady telling us we’d go to hell if we didn’t practice abstinence. I’m not sure if she meant it in the religious sense or was analogizing children to Satan.”
Charlie snorts. “How are we going to know what we’re doing?”
“What about those mother’s instincts you’re always going on about?” I tease her.
Apparently, there is something to those instincts, though. As predicted, she’s pregnant with a baby boy who’s apparently growing like a weed. We went for a second ultrasound yesterday. The nurse reassured us that he’s growing properly, and confirmed that he is, in fact, a he.
The whole way home, Charlie kept touching the ultrasound tentatively as if she couldn’t quite believe that all of his limbs are intact and everything is progressing as expected. I can’t either. It doesn’t seem possible to have both the most incredible girl and a healthy baby boy. I’m wondering what the catch is.
“I’m serious. How are we going to know what to do when he’s crying? How much to feed him? How many blankets to put in the crib?”
I reach for her. “I think it’s trial and error. We’ll figure it out as we go. And anything we can’t figure out, we’ll ask Gabrielle.”
Gabrielle has made a point of trying to be as helpful as possible. She slipped Charlie the contact details of her OB-GYN and a reassuring smile as we were leaving after Thanksgiving. Then, she handed me a box brimming with onesies, bottles, and bibs she had stored in the attic. She told us to come back when we’re ready to pick up the crib and changing table.
The closer we get to the due date, the more anxious Charlie is becoming. I understand it, but I don’t want to wallow in it.
“Come here,” I say, pulling her up into a seated position. “Let’s go for a walk, I want to show you something.”
She shakes her head, no doubt irritated by my dismissing of her fears, but she follows me nonetheless.
December has always been one of my least favorite months. It’s cold and overcast and a constant reminder of all the things that I don’t have: money, traditions, a family. This is the first time that I’m actually experiencing some holiday spirit, though. The toy commercials make me feel hopeful for moments that I’ll one day experience with my future family, rather than resentful over gifts and experiences that I won’t have for myself.
It’s still cold as shit, though. Especially since Charlie’s wearing my sheepskin-lined jacket, given that she doesn’t have a proper coat of her own, and I’m cursing the fact that I didn’t wear another layer under my thin letterman jacket. At least we’re not going very far, and the campus is surprisingly beautiful this time of year.
“It feels kind of magical with all of the lights,” Charlie remarks, voicing my exact thoughts.
Some enterprising students have str
ung lights up in the trees around the quad, and the twinkling makes everything seem otherworldly. Particularly right now, with the campus nearly empty, and the night dark and silent with the exception of our footfalls. We cross the quad quickly, moving hurriedly to ward off the evening chill.
I lead Charlie a couple of blocks past the campus, to a tidy line of brick row-houses. They’re plain, without any architectural adornments or landscaping, but neat and well-maintained.
“What do you think?”
“Of what?” She asks. “The apartments?”
“Yeah, I talked to the landlord. There’s a lot of vacancy in May when the spring semester ends. I was thinking that we could move here.”
“Can we afford this?” She asks skeptically.
“If I work a couple of jobs this summer and reduce my course load so that I can continue working full-time during the school year.”
“I have savings too,” she offers.
“That will help. We’ll need those for the baby stuff.”
“What would you think about me moving out here earlier?” She asks tentatively.
“I obviously want you with me as soon as possible. I don’t have enough saved up for the damage deposit and first month’s rent yet, but I’ll have it soon.”
“How soon?” She presses. There’s an urgency in her voice that I don’t entirely understand.
“I can have it by the end of January.” I’ll have to pick up some extra shifts, but I think I can swing it. She seems to be reassured by this.
“Is everything okay at home?” I ask, trying to pinpoint the reason behind her insistence.
She doesn’t answer. It’s an almost starless night, and the moon is little more than a sliver, but I can tell by the way her eyes sparkle in the dim glow of the Christmas lights across the street that she’s starting to tear up. When she realizes that I’m looking at her instead of at the apartment I’m envisioning as our future home, she turns away, pretending to survey the other apartments on the block.
“I just can’t let him find out.” It comes out as barely a whisper.
She’s still worryingly thin. The nurse commented on her lack of weight gain at yesterday’s ultrasound, but Charlie brushed it off as being attributable to her morning sickness during the first trimester. At the time, I didn’t think much of it, but now I wonder if she’s deliberately suppressing her appetite to avoid gaining weight.
I pull her in for a tight hug. Even in my oversized jacket, she feels small and fragile. “Do you think you can keep it concealed for a few more weeks?”
I don’t know the specifics of why she’s so afraid of telling Earl, whether he’s religious or whether other reasons are prompting her secrecy. I do know how terrifyingly belligerent he can be though, so I understand the sentiment.
She nods haltingly.
“I’m going to talk to Mr. Pellman, my grocery store manager, tomorrow to see if he has any other odd jobs that I can pick up for some extra cash.”
The store could really use a fresh coat of paint, and some displays could be rearranged to make better use of the space. Regardless, I’ll find a way to make the money as quickly as possible. I may not be able to allay her fears about parenthood, but this is one thing I can fix.
I didn’t want this moment to unfold like this. I was expecting her to be emotional, but I was envisioning happiness over our shared future, not distress about her father finding out about her pregnancy. The one thing I did get right was the element of surprise, though.
“What are you doing?” She questions, clearly confused by my sudden kneeling position.
“Give me your hand.”
She gives me the right one, clearly still not comprehending my intentions.
“The other hand.” I can’t help but laugh. “Charlie, I want to marry you.”
“Oh.”
I can’t tell what emotion is behind it; it’s more of a sigh than anything. Not exactly the exuberance I was hoping for. I slide the ring on her limp hand nonetheless. It’s certainly not exquisite, breathtaking, or any of the other words usually used to describe wedding rings. It’s just a turquoise stone inlaid in a sterling silver band, but I hope Charlie feels the weight of the intention behind it.
She holds it up to better see it in the dim light. “That’s really pretty. You really don’t have to do that, though. Just because I’m pregnant.”
My knees are starting to hurt on the concrete, and I feel like we should be having this conversation eye-to-eye. Or at least as close to it as we can get given that I have six inches on her.
“I know that. Charlie, I want this baby because I’m committed to a future with you. I’m not committing to you because of the baby.”
“Okay.”
“Is that a yes?”
She kisses me fervently, breathing “Yes” against my lips.
We cross the campus back to my dorm even more quickly than before, Charlie shedding my jacket before we even reach the threshold of my room.
“Should I carry you through?”
“That’s after the wedding, idiot.” She giggles, pinning me against the door as I close it behind us.
I start to pull her henley up over her head, but she whispers, “Wait.”
She moves to turn off the light before setting to work on my belt. The Charlie I used to know wouldn’t have thought twice about climbing on top of me in the noontime sunlight, her entire body bared to me in all of its glory. That was before it was inhabited by a foreign presence though, so I can understand the uncharacteristic modesty even if I don’t think she looks any different.
I can’t dwell on it anyway. We haven’t hooked up since our breakup in August, and the anticipation as she slides down my thighs until her head is level with my dick, straining against my boxers, consumes all other thought.
“I guess it’s my turn to get on my knees,” she jokes.
I hope she doesn’t feel obligated. But even if she does, I don’t think I have the willpower to stop her. The warmth of her mouth is divine. So much so that it almost takes me over the edge within minutes. I have enough presence of mind to slow her down, though; I have no idea when we’ll be intimate again, and I don’t want it to end like this.
I push back lightly on her shoulders. “Lay down.”
She obliges. I return the favor, persisting until she’s writhing beneath me. The way she exhales my name is so sublime that it’s excruciating: no moment will ever surpass this. I don’t know how I can resume my normal life knowing that this level of ecstasy exists.
Chapter 21
“Here’s the key.” He hands me the small piece of metal.
It’s incredible how light and unremarkable it is, considering it’s the key to my future.
“Call me if you experience any issues,” he tells me, collecting the two cheques from the kitchen island.
“Yessir,” I reply.
I move closer to shake his hand. He’s tall but slight, with neatly cropped hair and a tweed blazer that makes it look like he’s auditioning for the role of a professor. The important part is that he’s clean and respectable-looking though: no lint or stains on his khakis, no dirt under his nails. That’s what I want people to think when they look at me.
He walks over to the front door. “Have a good rest of your day, Levi.”
“You too,” I call back.
And then he’s gone, and I’m alone in my new home. Well, his home that I’m now renting. I can’t stop turning around to look at everything, take it all in. I can take it all in just by turning, though. It’s only 450 square feet, with a bedroom not much bigger than a closet. The crib will have to go in the living room. But it doesn’t matter, because it’s clean and well-built and, most importantly, immobile. It’s a solid foundation for us to build the rest of our lives on, and we’ll figure out how to make it work.
It’s the third week in January, a week sooner than I thought I’d be able to pull together the money for rent and a damage deposit. I spent hours painting the signs in the gr
ocery store parking lot and another few days reorganizing the storeroom in between classes to get the extra cash. And then held my breath for a vacancy. The fact that there actually was one convinced me that it was the right decision.
It’s a brutally cold day, the wind and sleet making my knuckles, cracked and sore from spending time out in the elements painting, even more irritated. Jeremiah doesn’t complain at all though, while he helps me carry over the extra-long twin mattress from the dorm room.
“Homey,” he jokes when we set it down on the floor in the bedroom.
He’s right that it ain’t much, but I think Charlie will be relieved just to have someplace to stay. We can worry about furnishing the apartment later.
“I prefer the minimalist look.”
He laughs. “Are you going to go pick up the missus?”
“Yeah. I’m going to head down there now and surprise her.”
“Good luck, man,” he responds, clapping me on the back. “This is a nice place. I’m sure she’ll love it.”
I watch him slowly jog across the street, heading back towards campus with nothing to worry about other than his next assignment, before I lock up the apartment and head for my truck. The ninety-minute drive to my hometown feels interminable. The wind is howling, blowing hard enough to rattle the truck and whistle through the cracks in the doors. I immediately regret not having brought a pair of gloves with me. I’m too eager to see Charlie and surprise her with the news to turn around, though.
My body is humming with excitement by the time I pull into the parking lot at Pete’s. The idea of being with Charlie every day and getting to know her in a more intimate way is thrilling. I can’t wait to see the expression on her face when I tell her that she’s coming home with me. To an actual home. The kind of loving and supportive one that we both deserve.
My enthusiasm is dimmed when I do a quick survey of the diner and don’t see her there. But she could be in the back grabbing food for one of her tables.
