by T Gephart
“Beautiful girl, you will always have our blessing.” My father smiled. “Troy, if you mess this up, I know ways to kill you and make it look like natural causes.”
“Mitchell!”
“Dad!”
“I’m not going to mess this up.” Troy grinned, no doubt or hesitation in his voice.
“Good, now tell me when we can expect this grandbaby.”
“So you going to make me beg, is that how you wanna play this game?” I kissed her neck in the spot I’d knew would make her squeal. Our bodies lying on top of the makeshift pallet bed I’d made out of blankets and pillows on my living room floor. The bullshit movie we’d been trying to watch no longer holding our interest.
“Troy Harris, stop that! You’re playing dirty.” She threw her head back laughing, but made no attempt to move—not that my arms locked around her would have let her.
“Last time I checked, that’s how you liked it.” I nipped at her shoulder, loving the noise that was coming from her mouth.
“I do, I do.” She laughed as she tried to wiggle out of my hold.
“See, it’s not that hard to say. Now, just let me get you in front of a preacher and you just need to repeat that again.” I moved my arms from their strong hold and maneuvered her onto her back, my legs caging her in as I hovered above her.
“Who knew you were such a traditionalist.” She raised her hands to my face. “God, could you be any more adorable?”
“Can we quit calling me adorable? I thought we agreed on calling me bad-ass, fierce will also work.” My hands worked their way up her sides, tickling her.
“Whatever— you are just a big teddy bear, Troy Harris.” She threw her head back in a laugh; the smile she was wearing rocking my world.
“You’re lucky I’m secure in my manhood.” My fingers traced the lines of her body, part of me not believing that she was actually mine. “I thought the idea of a shrink was to make people less crazy not give them a complex.”
“I’m off duty, so messing with your mind is allowed.” Her grin got bigger. Jesus, there was nothing I wouldn’t do for this girl.
“Is that why you are refusing to set a date? My mind not pretzeled enough for your liking?” My head dipped down, my mouth deciding it had something better to do than talk.
“I want to marry you, I do —but it’s so soon.” Her thumbs moved over my lips and her eyes clocked mine. “Like sooooo soon. We have just started telling people we’re dating, we get married— everyone is going to know it was a shotgun wedding. Besides, Dan and Ash haven’t even had their wedding yet.”
“Fuck what people think, and the only shotgun will be the one I’ll be lugging if we end up having a daughter. No one is forcing my hand, but I want a ring on yours.”
Marrying Megs was not something I needing to think about. Not sure when I’d wised up, but her carrying our baby wasn’t the reason. Sure it might have sped up the process, but there was zero doubt that it was what I wanted. Her and me forever, I was more than okay with that game plan.
“But I’ll be fat in the wedding photos.” Megs screwed up her face in disgust. “Is that what you want to look back and see? Me being poured into a wedding dress like the Stay Puft marshmallow man?”
“You will look fucking perfect, like you do everyday.”
“See, you don’t need me to mess with your head, you’re already delusional.” She rolled her eyes not understanding that for me, her body changing was a turn on, not a fucking turn off.
“I sure as hell was in the past. Looking at you and pretending that I didn’t want to be with you, yeah —it doesn’t get more delusional than that.” Ain’t that the truth.
“Aw. You’re being adorable again.” Her smile was back, this time even bigger than before.
“I’m motherfucking fierce I told you.” My mouth attacked hers, trying to prove my point.
“Fiercely adorable,” she mumbled against my mouth.
“Killing me. You are killing me.” My lips moved to her neck, kissing their way down.
“Tell me you love me.” Her hands locked into my hair, pulling my head back to look at her.
“I love you, marry me,” I said with zero hesitation.
“I love you too. Not yet.” Her eyes got glassy as she nodded her head.
“Then I’m going to ask you every day until you say yes.”
And so started our game, everyday a new proposal.
Monday I went with funny and got a huge ass teddy bear delivered to her office. No shit, the thing was easily six-foot and had a sign around his neck that said his name was Fierce. In his huge paw I’d taped a card that said Marry Troy. Sure I wanted to be the one doing the asking, but I wasn’t scared to call in some help if it meant we got to take the walk down the aisle sooner.
She’d jumped on the horn and giggled for ten minutes straight.
“Troy, I love Fierce. You are so sweet.”
“Just don’t love him more than me; I didn’t pay all that money for the bastard to steal my woman,” I warned, glad I’d been able to make her laugh.
“I don’t know— it’s a coin toss right now as to which one of you holds a bigger piece of my heart.” She teased as if she was trying to bait me.
“Did he give you my message or was he too busy putting the moves on?” I’d hoped that she hadn’t missed the message he had in his hand.
“He did and I’ll think about it.” It was a step up from the not yet I’d gotten yesterday, so as far as I was concerned it was a win.
“Awesome. I’ll get the ball rolling for tomorrow’s surprise then.”
“I can hardly wait. Hey, Troy. Is it okay if I take Fierce to the children’s wing to play? I think the kids would really love him.”
“Yeah, I think that would be the best place for him seeing as I’ve obviously got things covered at home. Besides, it will mean I won’t have to worry about him hitting on you when I’m not looking.” This earned me more giggles.
For Tuesday I went with romantic.
I woke up at the crack of dawn and placed a trail of rose petals from her bed all the way to the kitchen. Then I got busy making heart-shaped pancakes, trying to not set off the smoke alarm while I cooked them. Avoiding third degree burns was also a challenge—accidently grabbing the fucking heart shaped cookie cutter I was using with my bare hand while it was still in the skillet, wasn’t my smartest move.
“Rose petals. Awww, did Fierce sneak in last night or was it my other teddy bear?” She yawned as she took a seat at the kitchen counter.
“Oh no, that fucker isn’t getting credit for my moves.” I swooped around, kissing her neck before placing the plate of pancakes in front of her. Marry me written in maple syrup across the top.
“Is this your way of getting me to eat my words?” Her finger slid along the edge of the plate collecting some Aunt Jemima before popping it into her mouth.
I moved around to the other side of the counter to where her feet were dangling from the barstool, sinking down to one knee and pulled a candy ring out from my pocket. If she wanted me on my knees, she’d have it. Whatever it took to make her say that three letter word, and I would keep asking until she said yes. There was no one else for me.
“This is just a stand in till we find the right one.” I slid the ring onto her left hand. “But I’ve already found the right woman. Marry me, Megs. I love you.”
“Troy.” She teared up as she cupped my face. “I love you too, but maybe we should wait until the baby’s born. Do it properly? The baby will still have your last name even if we’re not married, I promise you.”
This wasn’t about our baby having my last name; this was about having the woman I loved as my wife. “When we do it, either before or after the baby is born, it will be properly. I’ll keep asking you. One of these days you are going to say yes.” And I wasn’t giving up.
Wednesday I hid Post-It notes in all of her stuff. So throughout the day she found little yellow squares that said Marry Me. I had been busy and stu
ck them in shoes, her laptop bag, bathroom cabinet, underwear drawer, in her purse and even managed to hide a few in her office. This hadn’t been as hard to coordinate as I’d thought. I had been picking her up from work all week and every time, without fail she would need to use the bathroom before we left. So I’d used the time Tuesday evening while she was answering her call of nature to stuff a few in her drawers and push some under her keyboard.
“Troy Harris.” The call had come around noon.
“Megs, what a nice surprise.” I grinned into the phone like an idiot even though she couldn’t see me.
“Did you buy shares in 3M and not tell me? It’s like Post-It notes threw up all over the place.”
She was exaggerating, but I hadn’t been shy about how many I’d hid. ’Cause I couldn’t be sure she’d see them all, I played the numbers game and boosted the amount I’d left.
“I figured killing a few trees was less conspicuous than a billboard in Times Square, but give me a week and I’m sure I can get it together.”
“Oh just make sure you don’t replace Mr. tighty-whities in his Calvins, I really like looking at him.”
“You look at him all you want as long as you come home to me.” Some dude with his junk on display didn’t threaten me, as long as he stayed on a billboard.
“Bye, Troy Harris.”
I would never get sick of hearing her call me that, sure as hell meant more to me than calling me baby.
“Bye, Megs.”
And so went the rest of the week. Thursday I dialed it down and went with simple. A big bunch of flowers with a card that said TH Loves MW was delivered to her office. There wasn’t a will you marry me on there but it was kind of implied. She called and told me that they were beautiful, and then warned me her receptionist might try and snap me up herself— like that could ever happen. Friday, I surprised her and took her out to lunch. I got a local deli to get together a picnic basket for us and we walked to Central Park where we ate on the grass.
We had made the trek to Yonkers on the weekend and we’d told my folks we were together. My mom cried with excitement, firstly that I’d brought a girl home—something I hadn’t done in a really long time, and secondly that we were going to be parents. The whole out-of-wedlock thing hadn’t bothered my parents so much, they knew I was going to do the right thing by Megs and my son or daughter, so they did even ask if we were going to get hitched. Besides, my sister had gotten knocked up when she was eighteen—so me being a dad in my thirties —was a walk in the fucking park.
Not surprisingly they loved her and I did tell Megs that she was stuck with me now; my mother would probably disown my ass if I let her slip through my fingers. I’d even managed to ask her to marry me two more times on the weekend.
Everyday we moved a little bit closer, with my calculation being that by end of next week we would be in the courthouse —either getting a marriage license or her filing a restraining order.
It was worth taking the risk.
You know what else comes with having your head down a toilet and peeing every five minutes? Fatigue. Like a black cloud, it rolls in and sucks your energy right when you need it most, i.e. having your shit together at work.
“I hate my parents. I wish they’d never had me.” Brad fidgeted in his chair; progress with him was going at a snail’s pace.
“Why don’t we talk about why you have these feelings. Has something happened recently? Have they mistreated you in any way?” It was the same story every session. He was filled with so much hate.
“They are trying to ruin my life. I didn’t fucking ask to be born. It’s all their fault my life sucks. They don’t give a fuck about me.” The venom spewed out of him, his feet tapping nervously on the floor.
At some stage something had to get through to him; a tiny in was all I needed.
“Brad, I can see you have a lot of hurt and anger, but your parents love you very much. I know things are hard for you to see right now but they are doing everything they can to help you. They care very much; they want you to be happy and well. I care Brad, I need for you to know that.”
“I’m not crazy, I know you and everyone else thinks it, but I’m not.” He flicked his ruffled bangs out of his eyes and looked at me, his eyes pleading with me to take away some of his pain.
“No one thinks you’re crazy, you just need help. Please let me help you.” My thoughts flicked to my own child and the things I would do to save them, save them from this pit of despair. “Please Brad, we can do this together.”
“I don’t know where to start.” It was the first crack—the tiny, tiny step to moving forward but it was all I needed.
“We start slow, by being honest.” I wanted to weep with relief. “We are going to write some scenarios down, triggers.” My hand flew to my desk drawer and pulled out a blank piece of paper. “Things that make you feel not so great.” I handed him a pencil. “It can be anything.”
Brad leaned forward in his chair and tentatively started his list. “Anything? Like if I hate butterflies and they make me mad, I can write that?”
“Yep, you can write anything.” I reassured him as I leaned back in my chair.
Uh-oh. That didn’t feel good. The sudden movement back made me feel weird. Now was not the time for morning/afternoon sickness. I shouldn’t have skipped lunch—you would think it would be easier on an empty stomach but it just made it worse.
“Dr. Winters? You okay?” Brad looked up from his list as I felt a heat come over me. Yep, this wasn’t good. I was probably going to puke.
“Just a little upset stomach.” The heat slowly travelled up my body as beads of sweat started to glisten on my forehead. “I just need a glass of water.”
The water was a crapshoot—it was either going to settle the urge or accelerate the process, either way, I couldn’t leave. I slowly rose out my chair, feeling clammy all over as I slowly walked away from my desk.
My hand started to shake as I poured myself a glass of water from the water cooler in my office. Just keep it together a little while longer, I told myself as my unsteady hand brought the paper cup to my mouth.
“Just keep writing, Brad.” My breathing started to hitch as a different kind of feeling washed over me. “I—I’m okay.” My voice wavered as I took another swallow of water.
Something was wrong, it wasn’t just nausea—the heat, the shaking—it felt like the flu. I felt weak, like I could potentially pass out.
Abdominal pain gripped me—like period pain but worse— as I literally lost my breath. No. Another cramp took hold as I fell to my knees in pain. No.
“Dr. Winters!” Brad leapt out of his seat and joined me on the floor, his face filled with fear. “What’s wrong? I’m sorry I was so mad.”
“No.” I whispered as yet again I felt the contraction of my abdominal wall. This couldn’t be happening. My panties becoming wet as I felt the tell tale drip from in between my legs. “No.” It was barely audible, my voice gripped by pain and fear as I clutched my stomach.
“Dr. Winters, please tell me what to do? Please?” Brad begged on the floor beside me, I had almost forgotten he was there.
“You need to grab my phone, Brad. It’s on the desk. Then I’m going to need you to run outside to Mrs. Bennett in reception and wait with her, okay? Can you do that?” I harnessed whatever calmness I had in me, making sure I didn’t raise my voice. He was just a kid, seeing me on the floor was bad enough—freaking out, that would scar him for life.
Brad ran to my desk and retrieved my cell, planting himself back on the floor with me. His shaky hand handed the phone to me as he stayed beside me on his knees.
“You need to go wait outside, Brad. Mrs. Bennett will look after you until your parents come to get you.” I forced the smile as pain shot up my back.
“Something bad is happening to you, isn’t it?” His eyes were so wide with fear.
“Please wait outside, Brad; I promise I am going to be okay.” I wasn’t sure if I believed it but I needed it
to be the truth.
My fingers started dialing the ER department as I watched him reluctantly move to his feet. His scared eyes looked back at me from the doorway before he finally disappeared through it.
“Hi ER, Ronda speaking.” The call was answered on the second ring.
“Hey Ronda, it’s Dr. Winters from Psych room 3, I need a wheel chair and some assistance. I think I’m miscarrying my baby.” I breathed through the pain as my hand squeezed the phone.
“Dr. Winters, I’ll get someone up to you A.S.A.P. — just hang tight.”
It’s not like I had a lot of options other than hanging, there wasn’t anything I could do but sit there.
“Okay, Okay.” I nodded even though she couldn’t see me, my eyes welling as I ended the call.
“Jesus, Mary and Joseph.” Carrie Bennett ran through the door, sinking to her knees beside me. “It’s going to be alright sweetie, just hang in there.”
It wasn’t going to be all right. No doctor or nurse would convince me of that.
“Please go out and stay with Brad, he’s scared. Please go sit with him.” My breathing was labored as I stared down at the floor. I couldn’t raise my head.
“He’s with Lani, sweetie. He’s fine. I promise you.” Her voice softened as she told me he was safely waiting with the other receptionist.
“Then please go wait with them. I just want to be alone.” I couldn’t do this and be strong for an audience. I was about to fall apart.
“Dr. Winters…” She started to protest.
“Please, Carrie.” I interrupted forcing my head up to look at her, “Please.”
Carrie slowly rose to her feet, her eyes flicking between me and the door. “I’m just going to be outside.”
I nodded as I maneuvered the phone back into my palm so that I could make another call. My fingers were barely able to hit the number keys the pain was so intense.
“Megs.” Troy answered; in his voice I heard a smile. “You going to try and sneak out early? I think we should definitely eat in tonight.”
“Troy.” My throat was thick with emotion as I tried to speak. I just needed to hold it together for a few more minutes, just a few more. “I’m losing the baby. I’m sorry.”
