Come as you Are: Plantain Series Book Two

by Amelia Oliver

  The memories of my parents have intensified since the news of impending parenthood, I recall the little things my mom did for me, like tuck a box of condoms into my dresser drawer when I turned fifteen and started seeing my first girlfriend. We never talked about it, but when the box was empty, a new one would appear. How my dad taught me how to work on cars, he spent that time with me even when he was busy with work and life.

  Amongst the millions of other memories I have, things I hope I can do for my kids. I’m not bogged down with thinking of their lives ending short or the what-if they were still around, thoughts that normally plague me whenever I think of them. Instead there is happiness in the years I did get with them, and for once it doesn’t depress the hell out of me.

  It’s Friday, Skye and I are sitting in a doctor’s office and I’m tapping my feet from nerves. I don’t know why exactly I’m so nervous but I can’t calm down, even when Skye repeatedly moves a hand away from her magazine and onto my bouncing thigh. I lace both my hands with hers and she gives me a squeeze, she’s not nervous, so I need to chill the fuck out.

  “Ms. Davenport,” a woman in scrubs calls from a doorway adjacent to us.

  We rise and I follow Skye as we walk back to the hallway with exam rooms on either side. The woman shows us to a room where Skye puts her purse down, and I’m told to wait. Taking a seat in the only chair in the room as I watch Skye get weighed, then is asked to pee into a cup in the bathroom at the end of the hall. When she returns to me, she sits up on the exam table, the paper beneath her crinkling as she sits on the edge.

  The scrub lady takes Skye’s blood pressure, and asks her a few questions. Does she have an appetite? Is she having nausea? Is she taking her prenatal vitamins? To which Skye answers ‘yes’ to all. The nurse leaves us and closes the door after announcing the doctor will be in shortly, and my leg goes back to bouncing. I look around the room at the one framed art picture on the wall, a diagram of different types of birth control and their effectiveness hanging on the back of the door, and a weird light thing on a rod at the end of the bed, I don’t even want to know what that’s for.

  “Ms. Davenport?” a voice says on the other side of the door accompanied by a light knock.

  “Yes,” Skye answers.

  A short woman in her early thirties walks in. She’s wearing normal clothes under a white lab coat. She smiles warmly at both of us.

  “Hello, I’m Dr. Granger,” she says outstretching her hand to both of us. “How have you been feeling?” she asks as she washes her hands.

  “Okay, the morning sickness is getting better,” Skye says.

  “Great, have you been able to do any physical activity?”

  I cover my laugh with a cough, since sex popped into my mind immediately. Skye shoots me a look and says, “Yes, I’ve been doing yoga and walking.”

  “Good, that’s really good. Keeping in shape will help with labor and recovery.”

  I move my legs so the doctor can get over to the exam table.

  “Can you lie back, and pull your pants down just to below your stomach.”

  Skye does as directed, and the doctor turns the lights off, flipping on a machine and a monitor positioned in the corner near the ceiling. Dr. Granger squirts some gel onto Skye’s tummy, and then puts a wand there, rolling the tip around as she looks up at the screen. I see grainy black and white, and then a small white blob in the middle.

  “There’s your baby,” the doctor announces.

  My mouth opens, and I see the little blob wiggling and something fluttering inside.

  “You can see the heart right there,” she says zooming and clicking on a keyboard.

  I stand and move to Skye, my hand taking hers as we all look up at the monitor. Seeing your baby for the first time is a life changing event that can’t be described. Skye is sniffling and wiping tears away with her other hand, my eyes blur as the bridge of my nose tingles. I’m not ashamed of crying, this is an amazing moment in my life.

  “Heartbeat sounds great.”

  I smile and wipe my eyes as I continue to look at the screen, Dr. Granger types on the keyboard. Out of a slot on the side of the machine, a strip of black and white photos prints out. She pulls the paper off and hands it to Skye, before flipping the lights back on and running a cloth over Skye’s stomach, then takes a seat on a small stool while grabbing a laptop and typing something.

  “In your medical records I see you experienced a trauma early in your pregnancy, I assume the doctor at your last visit made you aware that it’s a good sign the baby made it through the first trimester. But any long-term damage that may have been caused from your trauma, won’t be known until the baby is born or when development begins.”

  My jaw ticks at the thought of what that motherfucker did to Skye and my baby. Skye must sense this because she tightens her grip on my hand as she sits up. My chest swells with pride as I think about how much my girl endured with that asshole, and yet she’s not jaded. She still trusts and loves. Does she even know how strong I think she is?

  “Yes,” Skye nods.

  “You’re sixteen weeks, and the baby is measuring on point at this stage. You’re gaining weight as you should, and within a few weeks the nausea should be gone. Do you have any questions?” Dr. Granger asks, lifting her eyes from the computer screen.

  “No, I don’t think so,” Skye says, looking over at me.

  I want to ask if Skye can ride on my bike, but I Googled it and every site said no, so I shake my head and look back at the doctor.

  “Okay, well, congratulations, and the front desk will schedule your next appointment, I’ll see you in a month.”

  On the way home I keep looking over at Skye, we both have dopey smiles on our faces, and every chance I get to stop and kiss her, I do. As soon as we get back to the house, the baby’s first photos are put on the fridge, and I can’t help myself from just staring at them, even if it’s just a white blob.

  “I think at the next appointment we find out the sex,” Skye says taking a sip of water from the glass she’s holding.

  “Oh yeah?” I ask.

  “Mhmm…but, I don’t think I want to know,” she smiles.

  I smile back because I kind of don’t want to know either. I step closer and press her back into the countertop, wrapping one arm around her waist and placing my other hand over our little person. Kissing her forehead, Skye sighs and we just stand there in quiet bliss. With the last few days being all about sex, my home improvements have been taking a back burner. I decide I need to at least finish the frame for the sunroom so I can drywall.

  “I’m going to yoga,” Skye announces as I get my tools together.

  Turning to see her standing in the doorframe while holding back the thick clear tarp hanging around the demolition area. She is so beautiful, sometimes it just catches me off guard that all I can do is look at her, my mind even stops functioning.

  “Hello?” she says with raised brows.

  “Yeah, what?” I ask.

  “I’m going to yoga,” she chuckles at having to repeat herself. “I’ll be back in an hour.”

  She comes further into the room, leaning up on her tip toes to kiss my chin as I kiss the top of her head. Still in her clothes from the day, knowing she has to go to the apartment above the garage to change I say, “You should move in here.”

  She looks up at me, furrowing her brows slightly, and I know what she’s thinking.

  “But-” she begins.

  “I know you want your own space, but it makes no sense for one of us to always be going back and forth for clothes. The house is big enough, and there are plenty of rooms if you get sick of me.”

  A smile slowly spreads over her lips as she sighs before nodding.

  “Okay.”

  I lift her up with my arms wrapped around her waist, causing her to giggle as I spin her around.

  “Let me down caveman, I’m gonna be late for my class.”

  I tap he
r ass as she walks away, suddenly she snaps her fingers then turns back to me.

  “Oh, after class I want to go get some painting stuff, so I might be a little while longer.”

  I scratch my beard and ask quietly, “What kind of painting stuff?”

  “Ya know, canvas, paints, brushes. I don’t have any of that stuff anymore.”

  I nod.

  “Hold on.”

  I grab her hand and lead her upstairs. I know she’s only seen the bathroom and bedroom up here. I always keep the other doors closed, especially the one to this room. The door being closed didn’t take away the pain my brother left behind, but it helped not remind me of him every day. Grabbing the handle, I turn it and push open the door to Rob’s studio. I haven’t been in here since he died when I took out all his psychotic scribblings, so really I’m not sure if these are the things she needs. Looking over at her, Skye’s eyes are wide and bright, her mouth agape.

  “Holy shit balls, this is like an artist’s wet dream,” she says stepping inside the room.

  There are easels beside both windows, tables with papers and charcoal, and three huge shelving units filled with assorted paints. Along the walls are various sized pieces of canvas, and the materials to make them since Rob always stretched his own. Skye is running her hand over the brushes sitting on a table in front of one of the windows, her eyes scanning everything in the large room.

  “I don’t know if you want to use any of this, but it’s just sitting here so…” I trail off, rubbing a hand across the back of my neck.

  Skye walks over to me quickly, practically jumping into my arms.

  “Nathan, this is perfect.”

  I can hear the happiness in her voice, and I always want her to feel like this, I always want to be the one to make her feel like this.

  “Fuck yoga, I’m staying in.”

  I leave her taking stock of the paint supplies, and get to work myself, putting my favorite Louis Armstrong record on. The music is loud through the house because I can hear it over my hammering, and after a while it occurs to me that Skye might not like this music. But as the album ends, I hear her come down the steps and start the record from the beginning, which causes me to smile. It’s dark out when she appears in the door frame again, I’m shirtless and sweaty with my hair tied back.

  “Dinner,” she says.

  I follow her into the kitchen and grab one of the hot dogs she’s made, scarfing the entire thing in two bites. She eats hers almost as fast, and I see the various colors of paint on her hands and forearms. She’s so damn cute, and with both our mouths full, I lean over and press my lips against hers. A small giggle leaves her as she runs her hand down the center of my face, pushing me away playfully. We both eat another hot dog, before she takes a sniff near my armpit and dramatically begins to cough.

  “Christ, you need a shower,” she says, pinching her nostrils together.

  Since I’m a man and love to get her going, I put a hand on the back of her head and bring her in, as I lift my arm and bury her face against me.

  “Oh my God,” she laughs and smacks at me.

  I laugh, and make sure she gets sweat all over her face before letting her free. With both hands, she rubs them over her nose repeatedly, while still giggling and I can’t help but laugh at her. I can’t ever remember laughing as much as I do when I’m with her. Taking her hand, I pull her upstairs, guiding her since now she’s saying, “I can’t see, my eyes are burning,” and she refuses to open them.

  Stopping at the entryway to the front room, I stop the record player. Placing the record back into its sleeve and slipping it into the box on the floor with the rest of my records.

  “That’s what you keep those in?” Skye asks through squinted eyes.

  “Where else should I keep them?” I ask, taking her hand again and leading her upstairs to the bathroom.

  “Like a hutch or chest or something.”

  I look back at her and reply, “Yeah, but I’m a guy so, we don’t have any of that shit.”

  She smacks my shoulder and lets me strip her down, before I peel my sweat soaked clothes off, and we take turns cleaning one another. That night I wake to a terrible dream, but it’s not really a dream, not if the events in it are true. I fell asleep wrapped around my girl with my hands resting over our little person, fantasizing of the future and the feeling I had at the doctor’s office. The nightmare, or rather memory, was when Dornan, Joey and I drove out to the desert to get Maven. The truck she was in had just crashed, and Dornan had just killed Maven’s ex who had taken her. Joey and me had one of the guys, a prospect name Spiney, who betrayed the club by helping in her abduction, down on his knees.

  He was begging for his life, but the order from Dornan was to take everyone out who was involved. I didn’t, and still don’t question what we did. Joey and I both shot him, and I haven’t ever thought about it since. But it wakes me from sleep in a cold sweat, my hands shaking, my heart racing. Looking over to the other side of the bed, I see my beautiful woman lying on her side, the white bed sheet covering her nude body just above her tits. The moonlight is shining in and she looks like an angel, her presence calms me, but then the realization hits me as to why I had this dream.

  I feel my stomach churn and I stand from the bed, pulling my boxer briefs on before sneaking out of our room and going downstairs. My feet take me outside and to the front porch. I rest with my hands on the railing, bowing my head as I let the cool night breeze bathe my hot skin. When I hear the screen door close gently behind me, I remain still. I don’t want to confess what I’m feeling, but know it’s the only way I can shake this.

  “I need to tell you something,” I state and look over my shoulder.

  Skye’s standing there wearing one of my t-shirts that reaches down to mid-thigh and nothing else. Looking like my teenage boy fantasy come to life as I see the tip of each nipple poking against the fabric. Her eyes look at me nervously, her fingers fumbling with the hem of the shirt.

  “Okay,” she whispers.

  I bow my head again and let out a long breath.

  “I’ve killed people in the past.”

  It’s like the air stands still, the crickets stop, as the breeze ceases. I think I also stop breathing. I can’t imagine what she’s thinking, or what her reaction will be. All I can think is that she will know I’m a monster, she will leave, and I’ll never see her again or meet our baby. It feels like an eternity passes before

  her small hands gently rest on my back with the lightest of touches, then I feel her cheek press in between my shoulder blades, and I can’t help but exhale a shaky breath. Of course, she would do this, she’s too loving and accepting, and takes me as I am. I reach back and wrap my arm around her, bringing her small body to my side. We stand in silence because I don’t know how to explain why I feel the need to tell her this now or at all.

  “Do you believe in karma?” I finally ask.

  She nods her head against my chest, and I pull her closer to me, setting a kiss on the top of her head. Releasing her hold on me, Skye takes my hand and leads me back inside, up the steps, and back into bed to cuddle up behind me. I can’t help but feel better for telling her, but I also feel more troubled with the feelings I’ve just unearthed, and I hope I can get past them.

  I fear that my past bad doings, all the things I did when the club wasn’t legit, will come back and fuck my life up. That somehow it will affect my girl and our little person, I don’t know how, but I can’t shake the dread now ever present in my soul.

  I can barely open my eyes. It’s early, like sun not even up early. What’s woken me? Skye running to the bathroom and puking. I doze back off and wake when the room is a little lighter, still dark as fuck though, and still early as fuck.

  “Sorry,” she says, whispering in my ear sometime later, while running a hand through my hair. “I’m going to that thing with Maven and Missy, I’ll be back this afternoon.”

  I groan or something
in acknowledgement before passing back out. Later, I text her when I’m a little more coherent and verify that she did indeed leave with Maven and Missy to go to a county wide garage sale. Once again, I fall back asleep and don’t wake again until I hear noises coming from downstairs. Flip-flops smacking against the hard wood floors to be exact, and I know it’s Skye.

  I then notice a colorful patchwork quilt folded at the end of the bed, along with a suitcase in the corner and some of my drawers open in the dresser, she must be moving her stuff in and I better go help. It’s already two p.m. and I feel like a new man after my epic sleep. When I reach the bottom of the steps I see fresh wild flowers in a huge vintage metal milk jug on the dining room table. Glancing into the living room I see another hand stitched quilt on the back of the couch.

  “Sorry, did I wake you?” Skye says, walking in from the kitchen.

  “No,” I smile as we hug. “You get some stuff?” I ask.

  “I did, hope you don’t mind, but this place was too dude for me,” she smiles up at me.

  “Nope,” I reply, smiling just as wide as I run my hands over her hair.

  Her hands slip inside the back of my boxer briefs and she gives my ass a squeeze, before pulling them back out and saying, “I got something for you.”

  I look at her knowing exactly what she can give me, but she smacks my arm and gives me a look before pulling me into the front room. She stops and looks over towards the window, there’s a massive antique chest sitting just below the window frame where my record player and albums used to sit. The craftsmanship is impeccable, and you can tell it’s old even though it’s been refinished and the wood is gleaming.