by Grea Warner
“Ha! Ha!” I bounced back. But if Ryan hardly ever swore, I never swore. Unless ... “Drunk mouth.”
“Let’s go find out.” She suddenly was off her tall wooden stool.
“What?”
“Let’s find out!” she reiterated, clearly excited, and then called out for the bartender to close our tab.
“What? How are we going to find out?”
I was still trying to even process the idea that I might be ... Could I be pregnant? Oh, the alcohol swishing in my brain didn’t help comprehension.
“Geesh, I do have to explain everything,” she mocked. “We go to a drug store, get a little white stick, and you pee on it. Voila!” She put her hands up dramatically like she was the magician of pregnancy reveals.
“Now?”
“Uh, yeah. Girls’ night extreme. I love it. Thanks for taking my mind off of ... what’s his name?” she joked.
And, before I knew it, we had made our way to a convenience store. The fluorescent lighting was especially obnoxiously bright as we giggled and swayed our way through the aisles. Slightly balancing onto each other, I tried not to laugh. The situation was not funny—I couldn’t be pregnant. But laughing was better than crying. I was glad Willow was there for all sorts of reasons but mostly because I had no idea how to even go about choosing a test. Who knew there were so many? And I’m sure the clerk at the counter was not impressed at all by our behavior, especially combined with our purchase.
As I finished paying with crinkled bills, a text came in from Ryan. I know to let U B right now. Left light on.
Thanks. I managed to get the word spelled correctly after only three tries. But I wanted to make sure to say it because he was not only respecting my need to be alone but was trusting that I would come back and to our room.
Luckily, the Uber driver had waited, and we slid haphazardly once again into the back seat. And then we were off to Willow’s apartment. It was the same place I had lived at before moving in with Ryan. Some things had changed since then ... some had not. And after a few minutes in the bathroom, I would know if the biggest change in my life was about to happen.
***
I shed my bra from underneath my shirt and stripped off my jeans, all of which smelled of the establishment I had been in for most of the night. And then I quietly lifted the sheet so I could slip into bed. I couldn’t see much of anything since turning off the hall light. It was the one Ryan’s text had been referring to and what I usually did for him when he had a late business night.
“Good night, Mr. Mean.” Since he was sleeping on his belly, I kissed the back of his bare shoulder and then turned over to snuggle tightly with my pillow.
“Hmmm,” he partially murmured and then a little more awake asked, “Are you drunk?”
“Mmmm-hmmm,” I answered, trying not to resuscitate my giggling with Willow from before.
“You all right?” I could tell he turned because of the sound of his voice. “Not bad decisions drunk?”
“Uh,” I said, feeling every bit the next words I would say. “Tired drunk.”
“All right. I’m glad you’re home ... in our bed.” I felt his hand softly stroke the back of my head. “Good night.”
“Uh-huh. Tomorrow.”
Tomorrow we would have to face each other. Tomorrow we would have to talk. But at least in that tiny moment, with his hand caressing my brunette locks, I thought everything was all right.
Chapter Seventeen
Somehow, despite taking a nap the day before, I was the last one up the next morning. Well, okay, not somehow. I’m pretty sure the night filled with drama and alcohol aided in me crashing soundly.
After putting on my pair of loose, gray sweats and a similarly hued graphic tee, I let my nose and slightly hungover disposition lead me directly to the kitchen where the coffee pot was nearly full and hot. I took out one of the larger mugs and poured, skipping any creamer or sugar. I needed it straight. And I wasn’t quite ready for food.
I peeked into the family room. Sallie and Joel were on the floor, munching on some cereal and watching cartoons. When I didn’t spot Ryan with them, I turned to look elsewhere.
“Hi, Bethany!” Shocked at whose voice it was, I swung around to see a jovial Sallie looking up at me.
“Morning, you two,” I acknowledged, and the four-legged furball, who had been lying next to them, scuttled over to greet me.
“Are you going to have breakfast with us?” Joel asked.
“No. No breakfast. Need to just start with my wake-me-up coffee. And I should probably find your dad.” I bent to give the dog a rub on his back. “Besides, it looks like Lyric is keeping you company.”
“Oh. Okay. Yeah.”
Because Sallie seemed disappointed, I added, “But we can make something special for lunch if you want.”
Their joint smiles and bright eyes made me feel even better than the couple sips of coffee. As I left the room, I wondered if it was simply my hormones that had me question Sallie’s previous behavior toward me. I had to set it aside, though, because it was her father’s attitude and temperament that I was immediately concerned about. Even though our goodnight in bed was peaceful, I knew with all spoken prior, we definitely had some things to break through.
In just a few more steps, I found him in the living room. He was on the sofa. His own coffee and a few pieces of paper were stationed on the end table beside him. The way the furniture was positioned, he didn’t know I had entered. I was only seeing the back of him and the pencil he was twirling in his right hand. I fondly recalled that was one of the very first things I had noticed and liked about Ryan—his simplicity and authenticity like using paper and pencil instead of all electronics.
“Morning,” I greeted after a beat of praying we could get back to where we belonged. “Thanks for making the coffee.”
“Probably not as good as the coffee expert in the house, but I figured you would need some,” he spoke while putting his pencil down.
I’m not sure I heard everything he said, though, because as I made my way around the sofa to face him, I was taken aback. He was clean-shaven. There was not a trace of a whisker on his face. I’m sure I was staring, and I’m pretty sure he knew why. That sight alone gave me the confidence to sit next to him.
“How you feeling?” He pulled one of my dark, out-of-place hairs away from my face.
“Not bad. Cold or whatever went away. Tequila helped.” I noted his eye roll before I continued. “And coffee is helping the tequila.” I took another sip and placed it on the table in front of us.
“Hmmm.”
It was my turn to touch him, and, of course, it was the back of my hand softly caressing his smooth, handsome, bare cheek. “You didn’t need to—” I offered, although I sure the heck liked it.
“I heard you yesterday.” He looked me dead-on, and I couldn’t help but do the same. “I heard what you were trying to tell me. I didn’t want you to think I didn’t.”
I let my hand drop, knowing I was going to need complete concentration on his words. We needed to talk. We needed to listen. He knew it. I knew it. And it was starting.
“I’m sorry,” he continued. “I was ... I don’t know ... abrupt or defensive or ...”
“Yeah, all those things.” I didn’t say it cruelly or harshly, but it was the truth.
And he double admitted it. “Yeah.”
“It’s not just the beard, Ry.” Again, my words were soft but with a little bit of preach.
“No. No. I know.” He brought his hand over to cover mine resting on the sofa seat. Again, he made sure to meet my eyes. “I talked with the kids. We had root beer floats after you left. Well,” he admitted and let his eyelids dip for a moment, “after I calmed down.”
My eyes blinked a couple times on his admission. We had both been so upset. Was it strange, sad, or wrong of me that I was glad he had been, too? He totally won in the control part, though. Root beer and ice cream were a far better choice than tequila and, well, more tequila.<
br />
I squeezed his hand a bit as he continued. “We sat and talked. Really talked. And you were right.”
“About?”
“I just didn’t want to see it, I guess. I wanted everything to be fine. But you were right—something was bothering Sallie.”
“Yeah,” I agreed in an even tone, thinking the drunk me from the night before would have yelled out an I-told-you-so. “Did she tell you?” I asked instead.
He squeezed his lips together, nodded, and said, “It’s you.”
“Oh, no.” Not only did I release my hand from his, but I squirmed a little in my seat. “What? What’s wrong? I thought so, but that makes me so sad.”
“Listen, okay?” When I nodded, he pushed forward. “She loves you. Both the kids do. You mean a lot to them.” I knew his words should have reassured me, but why then ... what was the “but”? “Sallie? She called you mommy the other day at camp. And it confused the other kids, and it confused her. She feels guilty ... like she is being mean to Kari or forgetting her or both.”
“Oh.”
That was all I could say. In only a couple of sentences, he had told me so much. It made my heart both bloom with love and hurt with sympathy. And I didn’t know how to react to it or, most certainly, what I would have said if I had been the one Sallie had divulged those feelings to.
“I explained to her that no one will ever replace her mom. She will always have her in her heart, but her heart is big and she is so loved that she can have more than one mom. She can share that love and can call you whatever she wants. Is that okay with you?”
Well, that was why Ryan was such a good dad. He knew what to do and say. If Sallie’s words didn’t melt my heart, Ryan’s sure did. The fact that he embraced me in that role in Sallie—and Joel’s—life, left me almost speechless, especially after the “parent” comment the night before. I knew to and could definitely let that go. He had more than apologized with his story about Sallie. And I suspect he hadn’t really meant it to begin with, just like Joel and his meanest-daddy comment. We all say things in anger and regret them.
“Yes.” I pressed below my eyes. “Of course.”
His closed smile lit up his dark blue eyes. “She seemed so relieved. You’ll see.”
“I think maybe I already did.” I internally smiled, replaying in my mind my interaction with Sallie in the family room.
“Good. Good. You know, I think it would have happened even if Kari hadn’t died. She looks up to you a lot.”
“And she needed you to tell her it was okay.” I reinforced the conversations Ryan and I had previously had. “She seeks your approval.”
“I know.” He sighed. “I know.” He then went on to his other child. “So ... Joel ...”
“Yeah?”
“I think he’s always going to have some kind of issue with sleeping because, God help us, he is such an active little boy.”
“He is.” I resisted saying the word “understatement.”
“You know, since he was really little, he fought sleep. And I get the nightmare thing. It’s to be expected with what they are dealing with. Plus, we all have those every so often.” Ryan was known to toss and turn himself. “But now ... the middle-of-the-night stuff again? And, yeah, with how he reacted with you yesterday? I shouldn’t have blown all of that off.”
“Ryan, you haven’t. You go to him. You’re trying to reward him.”
“But I didn’t listen to you or him, really.” He plowed forward, “I did last night.” On my nod, he explained, “I guess he’s worried because I said Kari was tired and sick and then she died. So, he’s afraid something like that will happen to him when he’s sleeping. And you? On top of being tired in the middle of the day, you mentioned being sick. He was afraid that you were going to ... to be next.”
“Oh, man.”
“Yeah, right?” He shook his head. “He can’t remember to bring his jacket home, but he remembers something I said—"
“Did you explain it to him?”
“I tried. But there’s such a fine line. I’m gonna talk with their psychologist, too. I just want them to be okay, you know? I know they’ll never be the same. I know. But I want them to be okay. And I’ve got to understand it will take time, and there will be little things like a slip of the tongue or an illness or ... a special day or video that smacks them without warning.” The way he looked down and then back up at me, portrayed his sense of guilt for also being susceptible to the grieving process. He was the one—not the kids—who knew of the days and video. Before I could tell him I truly understood, even regarding his own feelings over the loss of Kari, he spoke again. “So, I sat up and wrote for a little while last night ... everything that was compiling. It helped.”
“I know how that is,” I agreed with the having-things-pressing-down-on-your-life issue and how lyrics seem to ease some of it. Right then, though, I was really beginning to feel the opposite. I had been dreading our talk because I was afraid nothing had changed. But from his fresh, clean face to his conversation with the kids, I knew it was the opposite. So, I decided it was my turn. “Well, there’s one thing you won’t have to worry about.”
“What?”
“You’re not going to be a dad again.”
“I’m not gonna what?” I’m pretty sure his shocked face mirrored mine from the night before when Willow had initially suggested the pregnancy prospect.
“I think you heard me.”
“I did.” He spoke a little slower, while carefully watching me. “What does that mean?”
“I wasn’t feeling well and was emotional ... so, I took a test when Willow and I were out,” I explained our unexpected detour of girls’ night.
“A pregnancy test?”
I might have laughed and been sarcastic—no, a spelling test, Ryan—had he not been so taken aback and focused. “Yeah,” I answered quietly, realizing maybe that had been my bad-decisions-drunk part of the night. I probably shouldn’t have done something personal like a pregnancy test with Willow. I should have waited for him.
But that didn’t seem to be his concern. “I thought we were good. You’re on the pill.”
“Yeah, I am,” I reassured. “But you never know. There is still that one percent.”
“Bethany, back up.” He was definitely getting antsy in his seat, and I felt bad—my news was supposed to be a good thing. “Are you pregnant or not?”
“Not,” I reiterated. “You’re in the clear. With everything going on, I’m probably a little screwed up.”
“What makes you think that would make me happy—you not being pregnant? I mean, I know it wouldn’t have been exactly planned, but ...” Wow, he was so serious.
“You have your kids,” I spoke honestly.
“I do, and I love being a dad. It’s my number one job. Why wouldn’t I want to share that with you?”
“I ... I ...”
I guess I always just assumed he was happy/content with two. We even had that talk about being overwhelmed by more. But we had never directly spoken about it.
“Of course I would have another if that’s what you wanted. I thought we would do it proper and wait to get married first, though.”
“Really?”
“Is that what you want?”
Well, that part of our talk was ending up being the same as the whole beginning part of the conversation—nothing was what I expected. I knew my mouth was a little agape as I tried to prewrite in my mind what I wanted to say. It shouldn’t have been hard. It was the simplest of truths, really.
“I want to be happy with you,” I said, feeling a little teary-eyed. “Whatever road that leads to. Our conversation got cut off last night. So, let me finish it. I’m really looking forward to being your wife, too.”
“Good.” He smiled a legitimate smile. “Because you not only mean a lot to the kids, you mean more than a lot to me. For real.”
Oh ... swoosh. For real. For real. I hadn’t felt ‘for real’ in a while.
I was so much more a
t peace, but it seemed Ryan had one more thing to unburden. “I’m sorry. I know I checked out on you for the last few days. I ... Guess what?”
“What?”
“I talked with your dad last night.”
I think five different reactions scrambled around in my mind before I managed to speak. “You called him?”
“I did.”
“Did you tell him we were arguing? How did that go? Did you say you’d like to have a little conversation about how to deal with his irrational daughter?” I only partially teased.
“No. Hardly.” He shook his head in denial. “I didn’t think you would want me to invade your privacy like that.”
I loved my dad, but Ryan was right. I believed in honesty and truth, but there were things between any couple that should solely be theirs. “So?”
“He had texted me a couple pictures of some antique cars at a car show he had been at.” Ryan had gained a bond with my father the instant he had shown him a photo of his very own classic red Mustang. “So, I took the opportunity to call him. You told me once that I could talk with him ... that he’d help.” As I recalled our conversation on the day Kari died, Ryan continued. “I think it shocked him a little. I knew it was late, but he had just texted, so ...”
“He was probably up working on tomorrow’s sermon and procrastinating online.”
Ryan laughed but then admitted how he used my dad for guidance. “I should probably go to a counselor myself, but your dad ... he’s a good listener.”
“Better than his daughter.” I looked down.
“No ... just outsider perspective. He helped me figure out why I kind of crashed emotionally. I thought things were getting better with the kids ... with everything. I had started to relax a little. And then I knew Kari’s birthday was approaching and then the video. And I couldn’t. I couldn’t handle one more thing, especially when I thought things were turning around. It was like the whole one step forward, but not only two ... it was ten steps back. And, yes, I checked out a little. Subconsciously, I think I knew you were there to hold it all together. But I shouldn’t have put that on you, and I most certainly didn’t mean to hurt you in the process.”
