With that, I scamper into the bedroom just down the hallway and move to shut the door. But I don’t shut it. I close it almost all the way so that there’s still a sliver open, and then crouch forwards, trying to listen.
This is pathetic. I easily could have gone home because like I mentioned, I only live down the street. In fact, Buster would welcome my presence at home. Yet instead, I’m purposefully trying to eavesdrop because Dane means so much to me, and I can’t believe this is happening. Is Amelia telling the truth? Is my boyfriend going to be a father? Holy cow.
As I stay perfectly motionless behind the door, I hear Amelia step into the living room and Dane shut the door behind her.
“Have a seat,” he says in a surly tone.
She falls to the comfortable brown sofa with a graceful sigh.
“Thanks. Being pregnant is tiring. Not only am I eating for two, but I also sleep ten hours a night now. I guess making a baby takes a lot of energy.”
“When did you find out?” my boyfriend asks roughly.
Amelia nods, flipping her blonde hair back over one shoulder while adjusting the cushion behind her back.
“Just recently. I missed one period, and that was no big deal. But when I missed two, I decided to take a pregnancy test, and a pink plus sign came up on the indicator. I’m having your child, Dane. It must have happened that last time we were together.”
A shaft of pain lances through my heart because unwittingly, I witnessed the last time they had sex. My stomach convulses and tears come to my eyes. Holy shit.
Dane looks a little green as well.
“But we used protection,” he says in a raspy voice. “I remember.”
Amelia merely shrugs.
“No form of protection is a hundred percent, even when it’s used correctly,” she says. “Even hormonal birth control is only rated at ninety-nine percent.”
I can tell my boyfriend wants to say something, but the only thing to come out of his mouth is a muttered, “Fuck.” His expression is pure agony, and it mirrors what I’m feeling right now. After all, what’s going to happen to our burgeoning relationship now that he’s expecting a child with his ex-wife? It’s like a huge metal door has suddenly been slammed shut, and I can almost hear the ringing finality in my ears.
“Fuck,” he grunts again.
Amelia merely looks vaguely annoyed.
“Don’t say that,” she says. “You’ve always wanted a child, as have I. Of course, this isn’t happening under optimal circumstances, but what’s done is done. We’re expecting a baby.”
Dane looks at her with rage blazing in his eyes.
“Optimal circumstances? Sweetheart, we just got divorced. I’d say these are sub-optimal circumstances, to put it euphemistically.”
The blonde woman merely shrugs while examining her nails.
“It’s going to be fine, Dane. You’re an adult, I’m an adult, and we don’t hate each other. We have the means to make this work.”
Dane jumps up to his feet then, pacing the living room with long, restless strides.
“What the fuck? How the hell can this be happening? We’ve always been so careful because of your fucking career. You never wanted a baby, and now this?”
She shrugs.
“I didn’t ask for it, but don’t even mention a termination because I’m not doing it,” she says flatly.
He spins to face her.
“Of course not,” he growls. “I want my child.”
She nods, looking pleased.
“Of course. I knew you would. I think what would be best is if I moved back here, and we had the baby together. What do you think? It’s best for the child to have both his mother and his father during the early years, and we can figure it out as we go. We were married for a long time, Dane. We can make it through this. It’s just one more challenge in this long road called life.”
He looks absolutely stunned.
“You want to move back in? No! You just moved out.”
Amelia doesn’t look disturbed at all and continues like she hasn’t heard.
“Yes, I think moving in is for the best. The campus apartment I’m staying in is fine, but it’s nowhere as nice as here. My current place quite bare-bones and utilitarian, and that’s no way to raise a baby. This house, by contrast, is perfect. You have three bedrooms, and the small one facing the yard would make a perfect nursery.”
Oh my god, I think I’m going to vomit. What the hell? I’m currently in the small bedroom right now, and I turn to look at it. Almost as if in a mirage, I can see what Amelia envisions. Dappled sunlight streams into the room through pale blue curtains. The walls are decorated with murals of cartoon animals cavorting in a forest. There’s a crib in one corner, with a changing table, loads of stuffed animals, and a big toy giraffe arching its neck.
It’s perfect.
The only problem is that I’m not a part of this picture, and I know it. My heart drops into my chest and tears overwhelm me. Is my relationship with Dane done for good?
11
Dane
Holy fucking hell. No way.
I can’t believe this is happening. I thought I’d settled into my new life, with Margot on my arm and my past troubles over and done with.
Then this happens.
What the hell? Life is not fair.
Reading my mind, Amelia gets up and shoots me an evil smile. Her red-lipsticked mouth gives me the chills and I shudder knowing that I was intimate with this woman for years.
“Yes, it’s best if I move in,” she hisses. “I’ll leave you now, but I’ll have my movers call shortly. It’s best if I don’t move anything heavy, given my condition and all,” she says by way of explanation. “I’ll be back in here in no time. By next week, at the latest,” she says before waving an arm and disappearing out through the front door.
I stare at her back, watching as my ex gets into her car and drives away. Holy hell. My life just got about fifty times worse, and I still can’t comprehend what’s happened.
But Margot. Where was Margot in all of this? When I turn back from the door, I see the curvy girl standing in the middle of my living room with tears in her eyes. Obviously, she heard every word.
“Dane,” she says in a choked voice. “I have to go.”
“No,” I say roughly, going to her and trying to take her in my arms. “Don’t go, sweetheart. We’ll figure this out together.”
But she shakes her head, the tears pouring down her cheeks now.
“No, you’re going to be a father,” she says in a trembling voice. “I can’t come between you and your child.”
“Margot,” I say more insistently, grabbing her arm this time. “It’s going to be fine. You heard what Amelia said. We can work this out. Nothing is impossible. You know that I don’t love her the way I do you.”
That only makes the curvy girl let out a wail of pain.
“But the child! What are we going to do about the baby?”
I hang my head.
“I don’t know,” is my reply.
“And she’s going to be living in your house!” Margot practically screams now. “You are living with your ex-wife and your soon to be child in your house! How am I supposed to deal with that? Where do I belong?”
I shake my head, my gut churning.
“Again, I don’t have any answers right now, Margot. This happened only fifteen minutes ago, and I’m just as stunned as you are. But I can’t turn Amelia away right now, not when she’s pregnant and expecting my child. It’s not the humane thing to do.”
Margot takes a deep, trembling breath. Then she turns to look at me with a loving desperation in her eyes.
“I know, and I agree, Dane. That’s why I have to let you go. I can’t be a part of this fucked-up situation, and yet there’s no way for you to extract yourself from this fucked-up situation. The baby changes everything, and you have responsibilities. I love you so much for owning up to your responsibilities and for being a loving father, but I can’t do thi
s to myself,” she says in a choked voice. “I hope you understand.”
With that, the beautiful woman turns on her heel and flies out of my house. I can hear sobs as she runs down the street and back to her own home. I hope Buster is there to greet her with a doggy-kiss and a happy smile.
Meanwhile, I’m completely done for. The woman whom I adore and who brings sunshine to my life just walked out. I feel that I’ve seen the last of her. Even if I haven’t seen the last of her, our relationship has changed forever. From here on out, it will be only polite smiles and stilted greetings. I know I’ll never hold Margot in my arms again. I’ll never kiss those plushly pink lips, nor hear her moan in my arms while reaching the highest heights of pleasure. That part of my life has passed, and my heart breaks as the lovely girl leaves.
12
Margot
Three months later.
I get to Pretty Pink Nail Salon and let myself in through the back door.
“Hey chica,” greets Trish, my co-worker. “How’s it going?”
I smile, hoping I look okay.
“It’s going. I’m just going to put my apron on, and then I’ll come right out.”
Trish nods before going back to her customer’s nails. It looks like she’s doing a rainbow design today, studded with clear crystals and heart appliques. It’s going to look amazing.
Meanwhile, I glance at the appointment book. My first client doesn’t come in for another hour, so I busy myself with cleaning my workspace. I sweep the floor, and then Windex the small table. Then I make sure all of my instruments are heat-treated and sanitized, and place a couple of hand towels into the warming oven so that they’ll be ready when the customers arrive.
Thus is life. I’ve been going through the motions, and my co-workers know it. They know what happened with Dane, and were totally sympathetic.
“It’s going to be fine,” cooed Hannah, one of the older ladies, while stroking my hair. “Men come and they go. You just be strong for yourself.”
“But we had it so good,” I said pitifully while wiping my eyes. “And in a way, I can’t blame Dane. His ex got accidentally pregnant, and what is he going to do? Walk away from his child? If anything, I only respect him more because he wants to do what’s right.”
Hannah nodded, her double chins jiggling.
“It’s alright, child. That just means you met a good man, but there are more good ones out there. Look at me and my Herbert! We’ve been together thirty years and still going strong. And trust me, after eight children, Herbie and I have had some tough times.”
I nod and shoot her a teary smile.
“Thanks, Hannah. Sometimes it just doesn’t feel like I’ll ever meet anyone as good as Dane again.”
“Have you been dating on-line?” she asks kindly. “My oldest daughter Angela says that SundayBongo is the site to be on. It has a funny name, but you know that doesn’t mean much. They just think of funny names because it’s catchy.”
I smile despite myself.
“No, I’m not online because I want to give myself some time to recover from my broken heart,” I say ruefully. “But I’ll consider it. SundayBongo? Is that a new site? There are so many different dating sites these days, and they cater to everyone under the sun. There are dating sites for Christians, for farmers, for Christian farmers, and for Christians who used to be farmers. It’s crazy.”
Hannah chortles.
“I know, right? I don’t know if SundayBongo has a particular focus, but my Angela tells me that it’s a good one. Give it a try, honey,” she says encouragingly. “I’ll even pay for your first month.”
I smile again at her while shaking my head.
“No, that’s okay, although I really appreciate it. I have to get out of this funk and it just takes time. But don’t worry, I’ll let you know as soon as I’m signed up with SundayBongo,” I say cheerily. “Thanks for the tip!”
Hannah smiled and turned to a customer who had just walked in. That conversation took place probably a month ago, but of course, I haven’t signed up for SundayBongo nor any other dating sites. It just doesn’t feel right because the truth is that I don’t want to move on from Dane.
It’s funny. I know I’m twenty-five, and my life’s not over. In fact, my life is only beginning. I’m considered a young adult, and have many decades before me. Yet ever since that fateful confrontation with Amelia, I’ve been a total zombie. The world looks gray to me, and every day, rain clouds seem to hang over my head. It’s hard for me to even smile sometimes, and I have to force myself to do it so that customers don’t think I’m depressed.
Yet, I just can’t get myself to move on. When I close my eyes at night, I see Dane’s handsome face. I see that cleft jaw, his piercing blue eyes, and the strong nose. I see how his teeth gleam white when he smiles, and how he laughs with the right side of his mouth going higher than the left. I can feel his large hands on me again, that that enormous body huge and dominant, looming above me in bed. It’s then that I wake up with dampness in my eyes, knowing that I’ve dreamt of Dane once again.
Yet what do I do? He’s expecting a child with his ex-wife, who is currently living in his house. After Amelia made her announcement, I saw the moving truck pull up to his home not three days later. The blonde woman was there, directing the movers like she was the Queen of Egypt. Dane, meanwhile, never came out of the house.
So here I am, stuck in purgatory with nowhere to go. It’s like I’m always in a state of in-between, neither here nor there. I’m a ghost, drifting through life aimlessly, and it’s hard for me to focus.
Suddenly, Trish comes to the back to get me.
“Someone’s here to see you,” she announces rather loudly. Her hair is bright red this week, and done up in a rockabilly style with suicide curls and a bright red handkerchief. It’s really cute actually, and suits her pale skin and crimson lips.
“Oh okay,” I say, wiping at my eyes. “Is it my next client?”
Trish stares at me, her hands on her hips.
“No, it’s not your next client, and here, we need you to look better,” she says. “Take this,” she continues, handing me a Kleenex.
“Thanks,” I say. “It’s that obvious, huh?”
She nods.
“It is that obvious, but we can’t have you looking like this.” Trish magically procures a make-up bag from behind her back and literally descends on me like a Fury. She’s patting powder on my face and lipstick on my lips even as I draw back in confusion.
“Trish, what’s going on?” I cough through the mess of talc in the air. “What the hell? I mean, I know I look like Death warmed over, but it can’t be that bad, can it?”
She merely shrugs, her eyes intent on my face.
“A little bit of blush,” she murmurs to herself, “a wee bit of mascara, and then some glitter for your cheeks.”
“No glitter!” I shriek, throwing up an arm bar so that she can’t touch me. “Absolutely no glitter.”
But Trish manages to get a few sprays in, even as I duck to avoid the sparkly stuff. She backs away, still staring at me while reflecting on her work.
“Okay, you’re good to go,” she says. “You’re presentable.”
I roll my eyes.
“Thanks Trish. I didn’t know that Pretty Pink Nail Salon required its nail techs to look like movie stars. Do actresses use glitter on the red carpet, come to think of it? Or is that considered tacky?”
She merely shrugs.
“You need to look good, Margot. It’s high time because he’s waiting outside.”
I stare at her before narrowing my eyes.
“He? My next client is a woman. What are you talking about?”
But Trish is now pushing me out from the private office area in back and into the public area of the shop. I try to carry myself with grace and dignity, slapping a smile on my face to meet this new client. But instead, I stop in my tracks when I see who it is. Because it’s Dane, looking huge, forbidding, and just a wee bit anxious. His
black hair swoops over one eye, and those blue eyes seize mine.
“Margot,” he rumbles. “Can we talk?”
13
Dane
The curvy girl looks even more beautiful than I remember. Of course, I’ve seen Margot from a distance every now and then, but I haven’t been within a ten foot vicinity of her for months now. She’s even more ravishing than before. Those pink cheeks are flushed and her rosebud lips part in a startled “O.” Her curly hair is wild, and … is that glitter on her cheeks? Somehow, she seems to have gotten some sparkly stuff on her face. But no matter because I’m here to hash out what’s happened.
“Can we talk?” I ask in a low voice. “I need to catch you up.”
Margot shakes her head.
“No, I’m working Dane. This isn’t a good time.”
Suddenly, a sassy redhead from the back calls out.
“I can take your next client, Marg. Why don’t you step out for a coffee? Or feel free to use the back room here, if you want.”
Margot turns and shoots daggers at the redhead.
“Thanks Trish, but Dane was just leaving. Weren’t you?” she asks me meaningfully.
But I’m an asshole when I want to be, and right now, the urge to claim this woman is frighteningly strong. I have to tell her what’s happened, and I grab her elbow, dragging her to the back.
“Thanks so much,” I tell the redhead. “We’ll just be a few minutes.”
The woman called Trish nods and smiles knowingly.
“No problem. Take all the time you want, Mister.”
Finally, I manage to wrangle Margot into a small office that they have at the back of the nail salon before slamming the door shut and locking it. The space is nothing to speak of. It’s small and cramped with a metal desk from the 1970’s as well as metal shelves filled with folders, some of them yellow and aged.
My Neighbor's Husband Page 6
