“Grayson.” I was barely audible.
“Sweetheart, what’s the matter?” His concern was thick, even over the phone.
“Where are you?” My voice grew louder but shakier.
“Derek’s. Becca, what’s wrong?” he asked.
“Come home, baby, please. I need you,” I cried.
“I’m coming, sweetheart. Can you tell me what’s wrong?”
“Just come home.” I cried and hung up. I was sitting on the toilet. There was blood everywhere.
Derek lives fifteen minutes away. Grayson was there in ... it had to be seven or eight minutes, tops. I heard him yelling down the hall for me. I couldn’t even muster the energy to shout out for him. He crashed through the bathroom door, slamming it into the wall.
“Oh my God, sweetheart! Oh my God!” He pulled out his cell phone and called 911. I just sat there, crying and crying.
At the hospital, we learned the placenta had fully detached from my uterine wall, causing the pregnancy to terminate. I was nine weeks along. No one knew but us. We were going to wait until Christmas to tell everybody. Grayson told everyone that I was sick and in the hospital for dehydration. No one knew I was pregnant, miscarried, and had a DNC. I begged him not to tell anybody. I blamed myself and went into a depression. Grayson tried everything to help me out of it, but I was so distraught. I even accused Grayson of secretly holding me responsible.
Two weeks later, Grayson had to do some book-signing dates. He wanted to cancel, but I wouldn’t let him. Then he booked the private jet to get back to us sooner, and he died. If I had let him cancel the trip, he’d be alive. If I didn’t lose the baby and go into a depression, he wouldn’t have chartered that jet. Grayson was frugal. It was all my fault he died! I thought that then, and on some level, I still do.
This is why my PTSD was so severe that I repressed my memories with Ray. I couldn’t bear the thought of any more loss. First my baby, then within a matter of weeks, my husband! Day in and day out, reporters and paparazzi called me and showed up at the house. I wanted to disappear. I wanted to go home. After six months, I sat down and started formulating a plan. Within a year of their deaths, I was in New Hampshire—where no one would bother me.
I pick the letter back up and touch my rounding belly. How could I forget my baby? Oh God, the sad look on Grayson’s face when we were in the car. I wondered then, if we had a son, would he have looked like Grayson? Now, I’m almost sure it was a boy because of his reaction. Is Grayson united with him? Why didn’t he tell me when he had the chance?
“Damn it, Gray!” I yell, but he can’t yell back. I just sit and cry, cradling the letter in my hands.
“Becca?” Stacey opens the door. “Are you all right?” She walks up to the bed. I fold the letter and put it back into its envelope. She climbs up and sits next to me. I close the book and place it in her lap.
“Another mystery solved,” I say, lying back as she opens to the first page. I get up after a minute and go into the bathroom to blow my nose and pee. I get a chill, thinking of what transpired on this very toilet. I finish up and head back into the bedroom.
“Here, your phone keeps lighting up. You have a message.” She passes it to me as she continues with the book. I look at my phone.
“It’s Ray,” I murmur and toss the phone down onto the bed.
“Are you going to answer him?” She glances up.
“No. I’m going to go to the kitchen to make a ridiculously huge bowl of ice cream. Do you want any?” I offer.
“Nope, just had some.” She rubs her belly and smiles.
“Okay.” I head out and down to the kitchen. Boyfriend? I’m trying to sort out how I feel about him saying that instead of fiancé. I don’t have a ring. He hasn’t officially asked. But, since I’ve been out of the coma, it’s been suggested that our intentions are to marry. Maybe he shouldn’t marry me. Oh God ... I feel panic rise in me. I grab the edge of the table to brace myself and sit as everything goes white. My heart palpitates wildly. My palms feel clammy and beads of sweat form on my forehead. I think I’m going to vomit. I grab ahold of the silver salt shaker and concentrate on the cold metal. Slowly, I feel myself normalize. Jesus—I haven’t had one of those in years!
RAY
I jump up and dash to the kitchen when I hear the intro to “Ice Ice Baby” play. I grab my phone and pull the charger from it.
“Hey, baby!” I answer.
“Ray, it’s Stacey. Becca and the babies are fine, but you need to get your ass out here now! There is some shit going down¸ and I’m afraid she’s going to fall back into ‘Lucy’ mode!” Her words are so fast and frantic, I can barely comprehend what she’s saying.
“What’s going on, Stace?” I try not to panic, given Stacey’s long history of exaggeration.
“Becca opened Gray’s gift. It’s a scrapbook of them through the years, and a bunch of her poems. He wrote replies to them.”
“Wait ... Becca writes poetry?” I interrupt her.
“Yes, Ray, that’s why I’m calling, because of the fucking poetry! She’s walking around now reciting fucking sonnets! Will you stay focused?!” she says flippantly.
“Sorry,” I sigh.
“At the end of the book, there’s a letter. He’s trying to comfort her and encourage her. Ray, she miscarried their second child. I’m guessing a few weeks before Grayson died.” She’s crying now.
“I didn’t know that.”
“Ray, nobody did! It seems like they were waiting to tell people, but I think she repressed that, as well.” Jesus, she is talking so fast again. “Ray, I’m going to get as much as I can out of her, but you need to get on a plane now!” she demands urgently. I’d say she’s at DEFCON 2.
“I’ve already booked a flight. Derek is picking me up at ten tomorrow morning,” I inform her. Looking at the clock, thirteen hours seems too long to wait.
“Can you get here sooner?”
“No. That was the best I could do. Why do you think she’s going to go back to ‘Lucy’?” I grab the small jewelry box on the counter, flipping it open for the millionth time today.
“She saw your message and tossed her phone down. No emotion. I just, I don’t know what to do. I don’t want her to pull away from you. This may have sent her right back to how she was feeling when Grayson died. She blamed herself. Ray ... she’s drained. She did too much today. She faced too much,” she cries. My heart aches. She faced it all for me. I pushed her too much. But this is not what I was pushing for—damn it!
“Keep her grounded and focused, Stace. I’ll be there in the morning.” I close the box.
“Okay, I’ve got to go,” she says. We hang up.
“Shit!” I yell and throw my hands into my hair. I call the airline to see if I can get an earlier flight. It’s a no go. Ugh! Why does she have to be so far away?
BECCA
“Mom ... are you okay?” Morgan asks as she walks in.
“Uh, yeah. I’m all right now.” I manage a smile. “What do you want for dinner?” I ask and start to get up.
“It’s New Year’s Eve, Mom. Aren’t we having Chinese?” She grabs a water bottle out of the fridge.
“Oh shoot, honey, it’s six o’clock. We would’ve had to order that hours ago. I’m sorry, sweetie. I didn’t even realize what day it was.” I throw some water on for tea.
“Well, Uncle Derek’s picking it up now. He’s picking up Aunt Danni and Jasper, too.” She leans on the counter near me.
“Oh, good. Glad somebody’s on top of things around here.” Good ole Derek!
“Mom, you don’t look very well. Are you sure you’re okay?” She puts the back of her hand against my forehead, and I humor her. God, she’s so old for her age—just like I was.
“Morgan, I’m not going to work as much anymore.” I grab her hands. Grayson was right to be mad at me for that. Why was I so silly about the money? Even if I didn’t want to use his, I have been making more than enough on my own. I shouldn’t have been paying extra on the
mortgage. I should have had more staff and given them more hours.
“Really?” she asks, her face hopeful.
“Really. I have enough staff now, so I should only have to work a little. My full concentration is going to be on you and Annie, and, of course, the babies when they come.” I pat my belly.
“And Ray, Mommy?” It’s more of a reminder than a question.
“And Ray, Morgy.” I run my hands down her head and kiss her hair. I hug her to me and lay my head on hers. “I love you so much, Morgan. I thank God every day for blessing me with such an amazing daughter. I’m sorry I took so long to snap out of it. It means a lot to me that you are happy with our new family.” I bring her face up to look at mine. She has Grayson’s chocolate-brown eyes.
“Well, it’s not really a new family, Mom. Ray, Annie, Nana, and Pop Pop have been our family for years.” She gives me a strange look.
“You’re right,” I say, tears springing to my eyes. Oh, my Ray. I’d give anything to be in his arms right now.
“Lucy! We’re home!” I hear Derek call out, the ruckus of his family not far behind him. I laugh at the irony of his word choice.
“Hey there, friend.” I smile as he walks into the kitchen. “Where’s the army you’re feeding with all that food?” I ask as he places four large brown bags on the counter.
“I’m the army, Becs!” he states and starts pulling containers out.
“I brought the fancy china!” Danni says, waving New Year’s–themed paper plates. I laugh.
“You guys are awesome!” I give them each a kiss and a hug. “Hey, I’ll let Stacey know it’s time to eat. I have to call Ray. I’ll be out in a bit.”
Derek nods, and I leave the kitchen.
“Bec?” Stacey’s already halfway down the hall.
“Following your nose?” I tease.
“Bec ... why didn’t you tell anyone?” Her face is red, and I can see she’s trying hard to hold back her tears.
“I was only nine weeks. We were waiting for Christmas to announce it.” I pull her aside. “I was devastated, Stace. I was miserable to be around. I pushed Grayson away, positive he thought I was somehow to blame. Then he ...” I trail off, choking on my tears. “I blamed myself again. Stace ... how could I forget about my baby?” I shake my head in disbelief.
“Bec, you know firsthand the tricks grief can play on your mind.” She rubs my arms, trying to console me.
“Well, Ray will be happy to know he’s not the only one I forgot about.”
“Wow, Bec. I’m pretty sure that this is not something Ray would be happy about!” she snaps.
I wince. “Christ ... I don’t even know why I just said that, Stace.”
“Well, make sure you don’t say it to him!” She crosses her arms.
“I won’t. I’m actually going to call him now.” I take in a deep, shaky breath.
“You do remember that he’s your boyfriend, right?” she asks, seemingly unsure.
“Who’s my boyfriend?” I shoot her a strange look.
“Becca?” A look of panic comes across her face.
“Just kidding.” I bite my lip to stifle my giggle.
“You asshole!” She slaps my arm.
“Sorry, I couldn’t pass it up! Yes, Mr. McNeil has made it abundantly clear several times that he’s just my boyfriend.” I sigh, thinking about his text and the comment he made before I stormed out of his office.
“What do you mean?”
“Never mind. Look, go ahead to the kitchen before Derek eats everything. I’ll be down in a minute.” I pat her arm and head to my room.
“Bec?” She calls after me. I look over my shoulder at her.
“Go ... I’m all right,” I say. “Hey, Stace ... thanks for being here with me. It’s New Year’s Eve; you should be home with Max. It means a lot to me.” I smile.
“Max is fine. Somebody’s got to be the ‘Ethel’ to your ‘Lucy’!” she says. I hear the appreciation in her voice.
“Just glad you’re not Lavina ... that bitch be crazy, yo!” I laugh. She shakes her head at me.
“Go call him!” She waves and heads down to the kitchen.
It’s almost ten on the East Coast. Ray’s definitely up. I grab my phone and dial his number.
“Stace?” he answers, panic in his voice.
“If your phone is ringing ‘Ice Ice Baby’ for Stacey ... we have a problem, McNeil!” A spark of jealousy hits me. Damn! Where did that come from?
“Wow, that’s fucking hot, babe! I should make you jealous more often,” he adds.
“Ray, why would you expect Stacey? Did she call you from my phone?” I sit on my bed.
“Yeah, baby, she did.” His voice is soft and patient.
“She told you, didn’t she?” I ask, knowing the answer already.
“Becs, I’m so sorry that happened to you guys,” he says. I take in a sharp breath at his condolence. He referred to Grayson and me both. I’m in awe at this—at him. “Hold on, I’m getting a text.” I sit in silence. “Oh, Becca—c’mon, baby.” He sighs with what sounds like frustration.
“What?” I sit up straight.
“Would you rather I continue to refer to myself as your best friend, like you have been doing for five years?” he asks.
“Fucking Stacey,” I sigh.
“Well?”
“No.” I have no argument. “I’ll just call you my baby daddy,” I laugh.
“Yeah, there we go.” He laughs. “I’m going to marry you, baby. Let me be your boyfriend for a little bit first,” he says.
“Rings or no rings, you’ll always be my boyfriend.”
“Hey, baby, that’s ... I think that’s one of the sweetest things you’ve ever said to me.” His voice is soft.
“Oh, come on, Ray! That can’t be!” I defend myself.
“Well, no, I just mean the sentiment of me always being your boyfriend even when I’m your husband. That’s really ... I like that.” I can hear the thought he’s putting into it.
“Did you eat dinner yet?”
“And here we have Becca James coming in from left field. McNeil must have overwhelmed her, folks.” He laughs when he hears me giggle.
“I love you, Ray.”
“I love you, Becca, and I miss you. Yes, I ate ... four hours ago,” he says.
“I wish you were here, but I’m glad your surgery went well and you’re back to being my loving, patient boyfriend,” I tease as I fight off becoming verklempt.
“Um, handsome and sexy as hell, don’t forget those.”
“Mmm ... you are sexy as hell, baby,” I agree.
“Ugh! I can’t wait until you’re back in my arms ... in my bed.” He makes no attempt at hiding the desire in his voice.
“I’ll be home soon,” I say with promise. “Ray, I need to go eat dinner. Will you call me for the ball drop?” I ask.
“Yeah, babe,” he finally manages to say after laughing a moment. He’s such a guy!
“Ugh, you’re ridiculous!” I grumble.
“Go eat, baby. I love you. Give Morgan and our babies a kiss for me.”
“Love you, too.” I kiss into the phone and hang up.
I take in a deep, cleansing breath. I’ve been through a lot today—a lot more than I was prepared for, really. I text Ray.
December 31, 2012 7:04 p.m.
Me: “Love” by John Lennon and the Plastic Ono Band. Just heard this today and thought of
you. So good hearing your voice. You always know what to say ... most of the time.
Love you!
Ray: Research! Research! Where do you find these songs? Thank you for loving me again
today! :)
Ray: Love your Boyfriend, Best Friend, Secret Lova :-o
Me: Not much of a secret anymore (pats rounded belly) ;-p
Ray: Hmm ... quite the scandal!
Me: Yes ... Nanarazzi has been off the hook since I’ve been home.
Ray: Nanarazzi knows no boundaries!
Me: Clearly!
>
Ray: Go eat, baby! I’ll call you soon!
Me: McNeil benches his best player ...
Ray: That’s a good one, baby! Now go feed my children! :|
Me: Yes, Coach! :)
“Did you guys leave me anything?” I ask as I walk in.
“Nope!” Derek teases. I smack his shoulder and grab a white Styrofoam container with God knows what in it.
“How’s Ray?” Danni asks.
“He’s good. Back to his old charming self!” I sit and open up my mystery dinner. Not quite sure what it is, but there’s no fish and there is pork-fried rice, so ... it’s a go!
“No arguments?” Stacey asks nervously.
“No, your text did not cause an argument.” I give her my best “thanks for meddling, bitch!” smirk. She mouths, Sorry. I shrug it off. I’m not mad, really.
“So, what do you wild preggos have planned for tonight’s festivities?” Derek asks, wiping his mouth.
“Sleep!” we say in unison.
“Wild enough for you?” Stacey adds.
“You and Grayson threw the best New Year’s Eve parties! People still talk about them!” Danni pipes up. The three of us look at her. I don’t know if we’re all thinking the same thing, but our collective stares clearly make her feel uncomfortable. Danni only went to one of our parties—the last one, and she was so shitfaced, she threw herself at Grayson. She and Derek were broken up for a few months after that.
“Well, Mom throws a great party! That’s why people love when she does their weddings,” Morgan says proudly, melting my glacial stare.
“Thanks, sweetie!” I smile her way.
Danni excuses herself from the table and heads to the bathroom. Derek lets out a huge, frustrated sigh.
“D ... why would she mention that? Is she Daffy Duck, or what?” Stacey asks, making Derek and I erupt into a fit of giggles.
“Shit, Stace! I haven’t heard that in years!” Derek says through his laughter and grasps his stomach. He takes a deep breath like he’s trying to control himself. Nothing like watching a six foot something, three-hundred-pound black man giggling himself silly.
“Christ, Derek, you sound like a little girl!” Stacey teases him.
Goodbye Uncertainty Page 13
