Baby Please Don't Go: A Novel

by Frank Freudberg

  For the second time since he’d known her, Lock saw that she wore makeup.

  “I might have canceled,” he said, “but I wouldn’t have stood you up. I don’t do things like that.”

  “I know you wouldn’t. I guess I’m a little paranoid when it comes to what you think of me. Thank you for coming. It means everything to me.”

  “Let’s get a table,” he said.

  He held the door for her and they entered the café. It was crowded, but not too noisy. Natalie spotted two teenagers leaving a booth and claimed it immediately by putting her bag on the table. The previous occupants didn’t bother cleaning off their debris. Natalie picked up two cardboard take-out coffee cups and a sandwich wrapper and threw them into a receptacle before sitting down, struggling to fit her belly between the seat and the edge of the table.

  “I’m used to clearing tables now,” she said.

  Lock slid in and sat opposite her. He realized now how uncomfortable he’d been the day before when she’d surprised him at the prison gate.

  “What do you want, Lock?” she asked, rising with some effort. “I’ll go order it. I’m having decaf. Iced tea for you, as usual? Even though it’s freezing out?”

  “You’re a good waitress,” he said. “I half expect you to whip out an order pad and write it down. I bet you charm some big tips out of your customers. Yes. With lemon.”

  “I was a waitress long before I met Witt,” she said. “Remember, I grew up poor in Jersey City.”

  “Then you got rich in Red Cedar Woods,” he said. “My mother was a waitress, too.”

  She nodded. “I was an actress and living that life was playing a part. Poor growing up, burning to be rich. Cause and effect, Lock. I was infatuated with the idea of living a life of luxury. Witt bought me that Mercedes two months after we started dating—and he put the title in my name.”

  She took a breath and touched her belly.

  “He’s kicking,” she said. “You know, my parents worked every day of their lives and were never able to put two nickels together. Now they’re retired on social security and have nothing else. When I was with Witt, I’d send them money every month, sometimes a thousand, sometimes fifteen hundred. Snuck it out of the allowance he gave me when things were okay between us. Now I can’t send them a dime, but they’re fine anyway. Especially when they get to see the girls.”

  Lock hadn’t known that. He had always imagined her spending those thousands a month on herself.

  The moment Natalie stood up to get the beverages, Lock slid to the end of the bench and placed both of his hands on her stomach. He didn’t look up at her face.

  “He’s not kicking now,” he said.

  “Maybe not this second, but he’s been at it all morning.”

  Natalie walked away. She was gone a few minutes. Lock tapped his car keys on the table. She arrived carrying the coffee and iced tea and placed his drink in front of him.

  “I don’t want to be crude, Natalie,” Lock said. “But exactly what do you want to talk about? I’m basically here so I don’t disappoint Abby, who’s strangely gung-ho on you.”

  “Whatever got you here is fine with me. It’s up to me to get you to stay.”

  “I have to be out of here by a quarter to one. I have a dentist appointment,” he said.

  “Okay. Then I’ll get right to it,” she said. “Did you read my letters?”

  “No, but I didn’t burn them, either, and I don’t see the point of tearing open a wound that’s barely healed.”

  “Thanks for not destroying them, at least. Maybe you’ll read them someday.”

  “Anything’s possible.”

  Lock kind of liked the idea of being pursued by the woman who’d broken his heart and cheated on him. He was trying to get himself to feel sorry for her, but it wasn’t working. She was still too in control, despite what Abby might think, to let herself get frantic over anything. In the midst of everything falling apart, she kept cool. Wasn’t cool defined as grace under fire? When the judge had sentenced her to six months at Dauphin County, she had just smiled and thanked him. It could have been much worse, she knew. Her lawyer had warned her that a year or two of incarceration wasn’t out of the question.

  “You’re all I have, Lock,” Natalie said. “Actually, that’s not totally true. I have my parents and I have the girls. And it’s true I want you. But more than that, I need you. Disturbing experiences change people, sometimes for the worse, sometimes for the better. I’m one of those who’s changed for the better. And I’m continuing to grow.”

  “I’ve changed too,” he said. “And one thing that’s changed is that I’m not so gullible.”

  “I need more gratitude and more humility in my life,” she said. “And I work on that every day. One thing I learned in group therapy is that if I have the capacity to be honest, I’ll get better, and that’s happening. I’ve stopped being so hypercritical. Except when it comes to me. I’m too harsh on myself. I need to work on that. And I want to go to meetings with you.”

  “You don’t drink, Natalie,” Lock said. “And you don’t take drugs, at least as far as I know. I admit I don’t know as much about you as I thought.”

  “I used to drink a lot,” she said. “Drinking and drugging are addictions, and we’re all addicts of something or other. A substance, a way of thinking, a behavior. So, I never want to drink again, and the only requirement for membership in AA is the desire not to drink. I qualify right there.”

  “Another thing you don’t know about meetings—there’s a lot of talk about a higher power, God, and I know that won’t sit well with you.”

  “Just so you know,” she said, “I’ve already gone to a handful of AA meetings, some with Abby. And I like them just fine. Two women there invited me out to lunch. I didn’t follow up with them yet, but I will. And Abby and I talked about the God thing. He said it bothered him, too, until someone told him that in AA, God stands for Group Of Drunks. When you look at the wisdom you get from the people at the meetings, it makes sense.”

  Natalie winced. She put her hand on her belly.

  “You know more about me than you realize,” she said. “I want to go to meetings because there’s a lot to be learned there. Abby’s right when he calls it the greatest show on earth. You hear some funny stories, and some heart-breakers, too. And a lot of them have happy endings. I want to attend meetings with you so we can grow together. Abby’s been going for thirty years, and he says he learns something new every day.”

  “Abby goes to meetings because he likes to socialize,” he said.

  “That’s bullshit. Maybe he likes to socialize, but he goes for the wisdom, too. He says it keeps him green.”

  “You seem to be quoting him a lot. Didn’t you once call him an old goat?”

  “That was before I knew him. He’s quotable, what can I tell you? He’s an amazing man. He’s full of love and experience and he’s nonjudgmental. He’d have to be to put up with me.”

  “He wasn’t always that way.”

  “I know that,” she said. “And so does he. He knows how he’s hurt people, but that was long, long ago. All he can do now to make amends is live right, help others, and stay sober.”

  Lock sipped his iced tea, and Natalie stirred her coffee while toying with a napkin. A rush of customers entered and the café got noisier. Natalie and Lock leaned in slightly to better hear each other. His hand rested on the table, and Natalie put hers on top of it. He let her hold his hand for a few seconds before sliding it out from under in order to pick up his glass. She left her hand where it was.

  “You wanted to talk about us, Natalie.”

  “I don’t know where to start,” she said. “I don’t want to babble. I was so afraid you wouldn’t meet me.”

  “Well, I’m here, and we only have another half hour. Speak your mind.”

  “I want to talk about
building a relationship and a genuine emotional connection, but there’s something else that has to come out now,” she said. She twirled her napkin on the table and looked into Lock’s eyes.

  “This is a horrible place to start,” she said, “but here goes. In all of my life, from the day I lost my virginity until the last time I was in bed with a man—you—I’ve never been able to make an emotional connection before, during, or after sex. And until now, that was fine with me. It had always been about the physical sensation, the power, the orgasm. But recently, ever since Abby told me they moved up your release date, I’ve been thinking about you, and sex with you, and how one-dimensional I’ve been in bed. I was goal-oriented, and didn’t care how I got there. But it’s different now, and my feelings aren’t theoretical, they’re specifically directed toward you, Lochlan Gilkenney. Toward you. Not anyone else. I want more from you. I want more from us. I’ve never seen the possibilities before, but I can see them now. Clear as day.”

  Lock sipped more iced tea. “Listen, Natalie,” he said, “I’m here because Abby wanted me to hear you out. But it’s also true I still have feelings for you—maybe they’re even stronger than I’d like to admit. And I can believe you’re recovering from whatever your problems were. But that doesn’t mean we should be together, and it doesn’t mean we’d be good for each other. Look at how much trouble we got into before. We broke a hundred laws and we saw to it that Dahlia got hurt. That was pretty sick.”

  “Those are the negatives,” she said. “Forgive, but don’t forget—play it that way. And keep in mind, there are positives, too. We’re both damaged people who’ve survived. We’re stronger for it. See the past as winter and the present as spring. Now we can thrive. You’ve always wanted to be a father and have a family. Whether you believe me or not, this baby is yours. Funny, but it doesn’t matter if you believe me. I wish you would, but I understand why you might not. But anyway, he’s yours, and now is as good a time as any to start thinking about names.”

  “Baby names?” he asked, his eyes opening wide. “Isn’t that getting a little ahead of ourselves?”

  “Listen, Lock. I understand your lack of enthusiasm about getting together with me again. I’d hesitate, too. But I think you may be in a little bit of denial about how your life is about to change. In a month or so, you’re going to have a baby. You need to get that into your head.”

  Natalie reached into her handbag and pulled out a folded piece of paper. She slid it across the table. He took it and unfolded it.

  “It’s a sonogram from my ultrasound,” she said. “That grainy picture is your son at almost seven months.”

  Lock stared at the image. It took his breath away. He felt his heart pound.

  “I think he looks just like you.” She laughed. “And while you’re letting that sink in, there’s something else.”

  Lock, still lost in thought, looked at the image of what might be his son, barely paying attention to Natalie.

  “Do you know what Lamaze classes are?” she continued. “They’re birthing classes that help pregnant women and their partners understand and prepare for the whole process of being pregnant and giving birth. Breathing techniques, exercises, what to expect during labor, everything. You’re supposed to go during the last trimester. I signed up and I’ve already gone to one…”

  “And…?” he asked, finally glancing up.

  “… and I’m the only woman in the class without a partner.”

  31

  Natalie sat alone in Jerome Freel’s waiting room. The receptionist’s desk was unattended. Freel’s office door was closed, but she could hear men talking.

  She had only a few minutes before she had to leave for her waitressing shift, but there was something she was burning to say to Freel, something she hadn’t decided to tell him until yesterday. She knew he wasn’t going to like it, and that gave her a measure of satisfaction.

  When she’d called and said she wanted to meet, he’d claimed he had back-to-back appointments all morning and that if she insisted on talking, she’d have to come to his office. He’d squeeze her in. Squeeze her in? That pissed her off.

  Her round, pregnant belly made it impossible for her to sit comfortably, so she rose and paced. After a couple of minutes, the door to Freel’s private office opened and he exited, accompanying a man wearing work boots and carrying a file folder.

  Freel showed him out and addressed the man’s back.

  “Don’t worry, your wife will get exactly what’s she’s owed—nothing,” Freel said to his client. “My firm will see to that. Get me those documents as soon as you can. I’ll be in touch.”

  The man left, and Freel motioned for Natalie to come into his office. As she walked in, he looked at the prominent bulge in her uniform without expression. She stood there while he spun his high-backed chair around and sat down behind the massive desk.

  “What are you here to bitch about, Nat?” he said. “Everything’s going fine with the settlement discussions. Going to jail delayed the shit out of things, but now that you’re out, we’re back on track. Your husband’s first offer was much more generous than I expected. But I’m treating that as a sign of negotiating weakness and I rejected it out of hand. They’ll come back with more. Trust me.”

  “What if they don’t?” she asked. She started to ease herself into a chair, but a shooting pain in her abdomen hurt too much. She remained standing. “I can’t take much more of ‘black coffee, rye toast, scrambled eggs and well-done potatoes.’ And why should I? Why can’t you advance me fifty thousand until this thing settles, so I can quit this fucking job?”

  “Can’t do it, baby,” he said. “Don’t have it, you know that. And even if I did, giving you an advance on a settlement is unethical…”

  Natalie snorted derisively.

  “…and I could get suspended again,” said Freel. “And more importantly, you not only have to look destitute for the judge, you actually have to be destitute. Witt is paying for the condo, and that looks good for him. It shows good faith. So we need to balance that out by having you, essentially a single mom, working your ass off for low pay. Relax. It won’t be for much longer. Plus, you’ll be off work when you give birth anyway.”

  “And where will you be then? On the ninth hole somewhere?”

  Freel looked at her blankly.

  “Here’s what I came here to tell you, Jerome,” she said. She patted her protuberance with the palm of her hand. “You see this baby? I love him. And I’m going to see to it he has the best of everything.”

  Freel furrowed his brow.

  “You came to visit me exactly once in jail,” Natalie continued. “And even though you said you came because you missed me, it was obvious you were there to talk me into getting an abortion. In jail. Great. I wouldn’t let those butchers near me. I’m glad I’m having our child. Our child, Jerome, and don’t forget that little detail.”

  “Take it easy,” he said. “All I did was advise you that being pregnant with a child other than your husband’s would probably result in less—not more—of a settlement. That’s all. And I told you I’m not interested in starting a family. I’m thirty-two years old and just getting back on my feet after being readmitted to the bar. Plus, I’d be a terrible father. The kid would hate me in no time. And so would you.”

  “You’re plenty worried the baby’s really yours,” she said. “And I can guarantee you he is.”

  “I’m not worried, I just want to know whose it is. I don’t want to get into the gory details, Nat, but we both know you don’t really know.”

  “I told you, I know. I’m certain. It’s you. It’s biologically impossible that he’s anyone else’s.”

  Freel shook his head. “You only think you know. Don’t you want to know for sure?”

  “If you weren’t worried,” she said, “you wouldn’t be spending twenty-two hundred dollars for an in vitro paternity test.
You’d wait until he was born when it’d only cost three hundred.”

  “It’s just better that we know. That’s all. Plus, if it is mine—and that’s a big if—then this isn’t my fault. You guaranteed me you’d never get pregnant.”

  “It was an accident, and you know it,” she said. “I didn’t want this either, but now that it’s happened, I’ve changed, I guess. I told you, prison transformed me.”

  “You didn’t change a bit. You were in prison for five months. That’s an easy twenty weeks. You act like you were away for twenty years of hard labor.”

  “You try it sometime,” she said. “Anyway, my maternal instinct must have kicked in. I’ve accepted my pregnancy. I’m fine with it. Plus, I’ve always wanted a little boy.”

  “That’s just terrific. And now you’re getting your wish.”

  “You’re right, I am.”

  “And I’ll own up to my responsibility,” he said. “If he’s mine. When are you going for the test?”

  “Thursday, and it’s a complicated procedure,” she said. “They fish a catheter up me through my cervix to test the amniotic fluid. It might hurt. All you have to do is get your cheek swabbed. Real fair.”

  “I’m sure they have anesthesia.”

  “Know what, Jerome? You’re a son-of-a-bitch.”

  “How soon do we find out?”

  “About ten days,” she said, “by mail. I used your address on the form, so you’ll get the news first.”

  “Why would you use my address? That doesn’t make any sense.”

  “Yes, it does. You’re my lawyer. I want you see the results first-hand.”

  “Why couldn’t you just show me the document once you receive it?”

  “I don’t know,” she said. “It seemed like a good idea at the time. Who cares? Leave me alone.”

  Freel shrugged and Natalie smiled inwardly. Although it was a minor detail, she thought that including Freel’s name and address in the paperwork would involve him more in the situation. And she was going to need him to help her. The more entangled he was, she knew, the harder he’d work to help her. He could be a lazy bastard, and getting him more involved would motivate him to try to get her the settlement she wanted, as if his outrageous fee wasn’t enough.