by Cora Carmack
I was going to look into a career as a mime. Because that appeared to be the only way I was going to stop saying stupid things.
I took the shopping bag back and stuffed it in my giant purse. “How close are we to this Eye thing?” I asked.
We turned a corner, and he pointed up ahead to a giant white Ferris wheel. “Very close.”
Glad for the change in subject, I listened to him explain that the Eye had been built while he was in school, and that on New Year’s they actually fired off fireworks from the Eye itself. He explained that we’d board one of the pods while the structure was still moving, albeit very slowly.
We had to wait in line for a little while, but since it was a weekday it wasn’t too bad. With our fingers laced together, we stepped to the front of the line, the first people to board the next pod.
Another ten to fifteen people boarded with us, and we found a spot at the window that would give us a good vantage point as the wheel continued its slow rotation upward. Garrick said one revolution was about thirty minutes, so I held on to the bar and he wrapped his arms around my waist. He placed his cheek against mine, and together we watched the city become smaller and smaller as we were pulled up into the sky.
The Thames twisted along beside us, steeples and skyscrapers punctured the clear blue day, and little dots of people moved below us in the distance. Up here they looked remarkably small, and there were so many. Some were in line for the Eye, others hustled along the busy streets. I could imagine each one of them wrapped up in their thoughts, contemplating their dreams, falling in love, getting news that changed their entire world.
In life, it’s so easy to get tunnel vision, to imagine this world is a movie set and your story—what you see through your eyes and think with your brain and feel with your heart—is the only thing that matters. But the world was so much bigger than that. Life was so much bigger than that. Sometimes, I couldn’t understand how it could hold all of us, all of the hope and hurt of humanity.
It was just as remarkable to think about the fact that at this very second, a new life could be forming inside of me. I didn’t understand how I could hold that, either, how I could have another person who would be entirely dependent on me. The camera of my life was very focused. There was Garrick, of course, but both of us were concentrated on our careers, on establishing ourselves. But if we had a baby that would change everything for both of us. Our lens would have to refocus, adjust. It couldn’t just be about us anymore.
I could feel the warmth of Garrick’s hand against my belly through my thin shirt, and thought . . . the responsibility wouldn’t be entirely on me. Yes, Garrick was a guy, and yes, most of them were terrified of commitment and babies and all those kinds of things. But he was different. This was a man that would hold my bag of tampons without any complaint, a man that didn’t get angry when I stopped him right before sex, and a man that loved me and cherished me despite all my oddities and issues.
He interrupted my thoughts to point out the window. “Over there, that’s where we were this morning. That’s the church we walked by. And that way is my parents’ place. You can also see the primary school I attended there. Graham and I were in trouble almost every day. Our mums threatened to send us both to boarding school.”
It was the worst transition in the history of the world, but I looked over my shoulder at him and blurted out, “I bought a pregnancy test.”
“What?” He didn’t say it like he was shocked or horrified. More like when someone just didn’t quite hear what you said.
So I continued, “At the pharmacy. I was being weird and sending you off to get drinks because I was buying a pregnancy test, and I was scared to tell you.”
That time I got a reaction.
His hands dropped from their spot on my stomach, and he moved to lean on the bar beside me. His eyes searched my face, and I thought the silence would kill me, tie my windpipe into a pretty little bow, and suffocate my brain.
“Say something.”
He opened his mouth, but nothing came out for several long seconds until, “You’re pregnant?”
Okay. Correction. Say something that actually gives me a clue as to how you’re going to react.
“I don’t know. I’m late. I think. It could be nothing. ”
“Or it could be something.”
Damn it, why couldn’t I read his inflection?
“It could be. Because . . . well . . . I forgot to refill my prescription. For the Pill. Things got busy, and it slipped my mind. It’s still so new to me, and I—”
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
I was going to go crazy if he didn’t say something more definitive soon. I sighed and looked out at the city. We’d just reached the peak of the wheel, and the pod gave a panorama view of the city. I gripped the bar that kept people back from the glass and said, “I was scared. The thought of having a kid is scary. I still feel like a kid myself sometimes. And we both work so much, our apartment is tiny, we live in this huge, sometimes dangerous city that we can barely afford already, and we’ve not really talked about having kids. When they do get mentioned it’s this vague, far-off thing in the future, and I didn’t know how you would feel. So I was going to wait until I knew for sure. Or until I could get home to look at my calendar.”
“But?”
My breathing was too loud in my ears, almost deafening. “But I didn’t want to be scared alone.”
His hands cradled my face, and he touched his forehead to mine. My breath hitched. He said, “You don’t ever have to be.”
I let out a small sob and held tight to him. He lowered one hand to my waist, his thumb brushing over my belly.
“Do you think . . . Do you feel like you are?”
I shrugged my shoulders. “I can’t tell. I’m exhausted, but that could just be jet lag. I’m emotional, but that could be because I’m a social cripple who breaks expensive vases as a first impression. And I did get sick yesterday, but only once, so that could have just been the fatigue and shock.”
He nodded, this time slipping his hand beneath my shirt to touch my stomach.
“If I am . . .”
“Then everything will be okay. All of those things you said are true, but we’ll be okay. You will be an extraordinary mother, and we’ll do whatever it takes to take care of our child.” He smiled and shook his head, “Our child. Wow. That’s what’s was bothering you yesterday?”
I nodded, and he exhaled in relief. That was a good thing, right?
“Does that mean you’re okay with this?” My heart was skipping.
“It means I love you and want to marry you and call you the mother of my child. It doesn’t matter to me what order it happens in.”
I leaned my head down against his chest, and suddenly the weight of my body felt like too much. His hand slid around to my back, and he pulled me in until my stomach pressed against his. I let him support more of my weight and said, “We do have a tendency to do things out of order.”
“The world has given us plenty of surprises, but each one has turned out better than the last. I have no doubt that this will be the same.”
He lifted my head up and caught my lips in a kiss.
We spent the rest of the ride ignoring the skyline for each other, and by the time the pod let us off back on solid earth, a really small part of me was actually beginning to hope for that plus sign.
11
Garrick
“THANK YOU FOR squeezing me in today, Mr. Woods. I really appreciate your time.” He stood from behind his massive black desk, and came around to meet me.
“Nonsense. Anything for the Taylors. I’m just glad you decided to reconsider. You’ll call me after you’ve talked to your fiancée?”
“Yes sir. I’ll talk to her tonight.”
“Fantastic. I think this could be a really good match, Garrick.”
“Thank you, sir. I’ll give you a call tomorrow.”
A knot sat heavy in my stomach as I entered the elevator, and rode down
the thirty-seven floors back down to the lobby. It had started yesterday when I’d called to set up the interview, and now it felt like it took up my entire midsection. Maybe it had actually started on the Eye. Or when Bliss took that first test, which had been negative. I’d almost canceled the appointment, but the instructions on the pregnancy test box suggested taking multiple tests, so I’d gone out to get another one.
That one had been positive.
Bliss took two more this morning, both negative, and we eventually decided that we were just testing too early. She wasn’t sure exactly how many days she was late, but she guessed just a few, and everything we saw on the Internet suggested testing after a week.
So we decided to wait.
That seemed to be a staple in our relationship.
But whether she was pregnant or not, that didn’t change the facts.
She was about to be my wife. We didn’t have the money for a child any more than we had the money for a big wedding or a honeymoon. Neither of us had health insurance.
I loved acting, but how was I any different from my father if I chose to do that over providing for my family?
When Bliss had met me out on that empty stage after that performance of Pride and Prejudice and I’d gotten down on one knee, everything had changed. She had to be my priority. My job was to take care of her, and if that meant taking a job in London that made more money, then I would do it. Sure it was a job in my father’s world, a world I had never wanted to be a part of, but I knew taking this job would make me different from my father, regardless of whether we appeared the same on the outside.
London had an even better theatre scene than Philadelphia, so Bliss could continue working here, and I’d make enough that she wouldn’t have to work another job, she could just audition. And I . . . I would see her on stage, and that would have to be enough. I’d discovered my talent for theatre because pretending came so naturally to me. It was my way of life growing up. But I’d fallen in love with theatre when I found that it was the only kind of pretending that could also tell a truth. It would hurt to leave that behind, that feeling that I was a part of something bigger, something greater.
I would just have to learn how to find that same feeling in the audience.
Besides . . . marrying Bliss, starting a family, that was my something bigger.
The company would cover our move and health insurance. Baby or not . . . this made sense. It was the right thing to do. The smart thing.
I kept replaying all my reasons as the tube rocked back and forth on the tracks on my way back to Kensington. Bliss was out at her lunch with Mum, but we should be getting home around the same time. I needed to have all my thoughts laid out when I told her.
I wasn’t sure how she’d react to the idea of leaving the States. She’d seemed really excited about coming to London, but visiting and living here were two very different things. But besides a slow start, she’d really held her own here. It was an almost seamless transition, actually. Even better than I’d hoped.
It would be okay. This would make everything okay. And Bliss could stop worrying about the pregnancy because this job would take care of everything. And after a couple years in this job, I could probably find a comparable one back in the States if she wanted to go back.
I arrived back at my parents before Mum and Bliss, and surprisingly met my father on the way in the door.
“Oh Garrick, I’m glad I caught you. I swung by to pick up some things on my lunch. How did the interview go?”
Of course he would know. I hadn’t told anyone, but he must have heard it from Mr. Woods.
“It went well. I’m going to talk to Bliss about it tonight.”
He nodded, pulling his BlackBerry out of his pocket after it buzzed.
“Good.” He started tapping away at a message, and with his head down said, “You’re making the right decision, Garrick. The smart one.”
The knot in my stomach soured as he literally took the words right out of my head.
I wasn’t like my father. We were different. This was different.
He left with one more proclamation that this was the right thing, and I had the massive, empty house alone to fill up with thoughts.
I’d taken a turn of pacing and sitting and stressing in nearly every room in the house by the time Bliss arrived home. It was hours after I expected them, and I was in the dining room, drumming my fingers against the long table, when the front door opened, and I heard laughter.
“Did you see her face? I haven’t laughed so hard in . . . well, decades probably.”
“I thought she was going to murder me, right there in the shop.”
“I thought I was going to lose a lung laughing. You don’t know how much I can’t stand that woman.”
I crossed into the foyer, and Bliss and my mother were smiling like the oldest of friends.
“What have you two been up to all day?” I asked.
Mum waved a hand. “Just causing a bit of mischief. It comes quite naturally to your future wife.”
Of that, I was very well aware.
“And where have you been all this time?”
“Oh, here and there. Don’t worry. I took good care of her. And I was nice, as you put it. To her anyway.”
Bliss laughed, and whatever I was missing, it must have been one hell of a story. And I wanted to hear it . . . later. Right now I had about a thousand things to get off my chest, and I had everything I wanted to say arranged in my mind. I needed to say it before it all came tumbling down like a house of cards.
“I’m glad you two had fun, but can I steal her away for a while?”
“By all means,” Mum said. “Steal away.”
I held Bliss’s hand as we climbed the stairs up to my room. I shook my head, chuckling. “Unbelievable. How do you do it?”
Deadpan, Bliss said, “I knocked down five racks of clothing at some upscale boutique she took me to. Seriously, it was horrifying. The most expensive domino line in the history of the world.”
I burst out laughing.
She said, “That’s about how your mother reacted, too. She was civil before that, but then it was like some kind of flip had switched. We had a blast.”
This was a good sign. A great sign. Maybe she would want to be in London.
“My mother is all work. Today was probably the most fun she’s had in ages.”
“It was good for me, too,” she said. “Listen, I—”
“I need to talk to you about something,” I said.
“Oh.” She frowned. “Of course. Go ahead.”
I sat her on the edge of the bed, and out of habit my eyes went to her midsection. I think I’d looked at her stomach more in two days than in the entirety of our relationship before now.
“I did something today. Something a little crazy.”
“Okay,” she said tentatively, her fists clenched on top of her knees.
I blew out a breath.
“I interviewed for a job.”
“You what?”
“I know, I know.” I paced the length of the carpet in front of her. “I know it’s out of nowhere, but an old boss talked to me about it at the party the other night. I didn’t think anything of it until yesterday, but it solves all of our problems. The money is great, and they’ll pay for us to relocate. We’ll have health insurance to cover the birth. We’ll be able to afford to live in a very safe part of the city with good schools. You can audition here, and you won’t have to worry about working any other jobs.”
“You interviewed for a job here in London without telling me?”
“I haven’t accepted it.”
“You sure as hell better not have accepted it.”
I was mucking this up completely. I forced myself to stop pacing and kneel in front of her on the bed.
“I know this is a lot. I’m only asking you to think about it, to think of all the problems it could solve.”
“What about all the problems it creates? I’m already booked for a show in the
fall.”
“You’d have to give that show up if you’re pregnant anyway. You’d be showing by then.”
She stood, and then it was she who started pacing.
“We don’t even know if we’re pregnant yet. You want to uproot our entire life on a possibility?”
I took hold of her elbows and said, “No. No, of course not. We can wait to answer until next week, until we know for sure. But even if you’re not pregnant, Bliss, you might be someday. This job is a rare opportunity. Most people have to work their way up for years to get this kind of job.”
“And what kind of job is it?”
“What do you mean?”
She gripped my shoulders like she wanted to shake me. “What will you be doing? You love theatre. You said it made you grow up. It led you to me. You’re going to leave that for what? A job behind a desk?”
“I love you, more than I’ve ever loved acting.”
She pulled her elbows out of my grasp and threw up her arms.
“What does that have to do with any of this?”
“Bliss, I’m doing this for you. For us.”
“Well, stop.”
I shook my head. “What?”
“You heard me. Stop. I didn’t ask you to do any of this.”
“You don’t have to ask.” I dragged a thumb across her jaw. “I just think it’s time for a bit of realism. It would be stupid not to take this job.”
“I’m hearing a lot of stupid things at the moment.”
Okay. So she wasn’t excited about the idea of living in London.
“Damn it, Bliss. We need this. I’m trying to grow up, to get a real job, and be an adult about all this.”
“Being an adult doesn’t mean you change everything about yourself. You were an adult already without this fancy job and the money.”
“But now I can be an adult that can provide for you.”
“You already provide all I need. You said we needed a dose of realism?”
“Yes. We do.”
I could see that now.
“You said almost the same thing to me on the first night we met, on the night we kissed. We were talking about theatre, about Shakespeare.”
