by S. C. Adams
“Please?” I beg.
She just shakes her head and heads downstairs. I stand there in my room listening to her leave my house. Once the front door shuts, I sit down on the edge of my bed. I sit there for a long moment wondering if it all was a big mistake. It surely didn’t seem like one then.
I finally muster enough energy to get up, put on some pajama pants, and head downstairs. Sadie isn’t awake yet, which is probably for the best. I get down into the living room where the wine bottles are sitting on the table.
I rub my head and suck my lips in, thinking that maybe it really was a mistake. I clean up the living room and head into the kitchen to make breakfast. The day after my little girl’s birthday is not a day to disappoint, so I make waffles with scrambled eggs and sausage.
By the time the second waffle is made, I hear her stirring upstairs. A flash of last night pops into my head, and I breathe a heavy sigh of relief. It’s a wonderful thing that Sadie is such a heavy sleeper. I hadn’t even thought of what could’ve happened if Claire’s moaning and screaming had woken Sadie up. Even worse, if Sadie had wandered into my bedroom to find us wrapped together.
I hear her little feet pattering down the stairs, and soon she is up in her chair. “Good morning, Daddy!”
“Good morning. How does it feel to be five?”
“Am I big enough to ride the big-kid rides at the fair?”
I smile and laugh. “You can ride the big-kid rides, but not the teen rides.”
She pouts at first, then smiles with a nod. “I can live with that.”
I chuckle and hand her a plate with a waffle, on which I drew a happy face in whipped cream and chocolate sauce. Then I hand her a plate of eggs and sausage, which is all laid out in another happy face. Sadie laughs and digs into her waffle.
We sit together and eat in harmony. I ask her about her party and how she liked it. She tells me all sorts of stories about the various presents she got and who showed up and what fun they all had playing together. Then she tells me how amazing Claire is for putting it all together.
I nod, knowing entirely well that Claire is amazing. But that’s not a conversation one has with their five-year-old.
We finish our breakfast, and I let her bring down a few toys to play with in the living room. First, she brings down a new dollhouse complete with kitchen, walk-in closet, and Jacuzzi. I’m impressed with these dolls. They’re living the life. Then she goes back upstairs and brings down a few new dolls and stuffed animals.
We sit together on the floor playing with her new dolls. Somehow these dolls, although only a day old in Sadie time, have immensely complicated backstories. One doll has recently gone through a major surgery and only has days to live. Another is a world-renowned wildlife expert on unicorns and has done extensive studies. Her new flamingo plush is just small enough to fit into the doll clothes, and although his name is Jimmy, he looks fabulous in the dresses and all of the other flamingos are jealous.
I am astounded by the stories she can come up with.
There is a knock at the door, and I excuse myself to answer it. There is a small piece of me that really wants it to be Claire, but with how she left this morning, I doubt it very much.
I open the door, and there is Phil with an armful of brightly wrapped presents for Sadie. I invite him in, and he goes straight over to the living room. Sadie jumps up and runs over to hug him, which really wasn’t the best option.
Phil stumbles and does his best not to drop the packages on my daughter, which I greatly appreciate. I grab a few from him, and he safely sets the rest down. Then he picks up Sadie in a twirling hug.
“How’s the birthday girl this fine, cheery morning?”
Sadie laughs and kisses his cheek before he puts her down. “Uncle Phil! Uncle Phil! Look what I got!”
She runs back to her toys and starts to show him her new things. Phil kneels down to talk with her about her new toys, and I think back to last night when Claire was handing out the cake to the other children. She was so calm and happy and caring. She really clicked with them, and I know she’s taken a liking to Sadie.
Phil comes back over to me, and we give each other a hug with a hearty pat on the back.
“Sorry I couldn’t make it, man. There was a snag with a shipment, so I had to be at the office.”
I assure him that it’s perfectly acceptable and that Sadie is happy that he’s here now. Phil smiles and hands Sadie the presents he got for her. She happily rips open the paper and the packages. Phil helps her with the stubborn tape and stuck knots in ribbons. She gives him big hugs after every present and thanks him thoroughly.
After the last present is opened, she plays with everything in the living room. Phil and I head to the kitchen and sit at the island. I pour us each a drink, and we sip them as we talk.
“How was the party?”
“It went really well. Everyone that Sadie really wanted to see was there.”
“Was everyone you really wanted to see there?”
He bounces his eyebrows at me, and I look at him with playful disgust. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Bullshit,” he whispers.
I sip my drink as coyly as possible.
“You hired her because you fucked her, didn’t you?”
“That—that is not why I hired her.”
We chat a little more about the matter. Well, mostly he just teases me about her. I tell him about our encounters with each other, careful not to say certain things too loudly. He listens to my stories rather intently and really seems to be getting into them. I end my tales with last night and how she seemed to be thoroughly pleased before falling asleep in my arms. He gets excited, and then I let him down with how she abruptly left this morning.
He sits there stunned for a moment before sipping his drink. He ruminates on the stories I’ve told him, then looks up at me and smirks.
“So, you like her?”
“What?” I nearly spit out my drink.
“Come on. You like her. You brought her back here after the party, and she helped you put Sadie to bed. Then she—” He snickers. “—helps you to bed. She stayed the night.”
“And then she left.”
“Okay, how do you feel about her? Tell me honestly, bro.”
I sit there for a while. I have my lips on the rim of my glass, and I look over at Sadie playing in the living room. There are feelings there, I can’t deny it. But do I really want them on the surface? Can I handle putting myself out there just to watch her leave again?
“You’re right. I do really like her. I want her to come back and not leave. Not in a creepy way, but I want her to come to bed and stay the next morning.”
Phil nods, then sets his glass down and shrugs. “You gotta tell her, dude.”
“How can I?”
“Call her up. If you don’t you’ll regret it. At least if you get a no you can move on.”
“And if I get a no?”
“Then you’ll know. But you’re playing with an if. Call her and find out before you start worrying about what may be.”
We finish our drinks, then help Sadie get some of her toys back up to her room. Phil stays for a while longer, long enough to have at least one tea party and one makeover from Sadie. I thank him for coming by and assure him that I will call Claire. He tells me to call him later if I need a friend, and I thank him for the sentiment.
I get Sadie ready for a bath and into the tub. I know that I have at least an hour before I should get her dried off and in pajamas. It doesn’t take her that long to wash up, but she has those weird bath crayons and a small basket of bath toys, so I know I have some time.
I sit on my bed so that I can hear Sadie, just in case. I have my phone in my hand, but I have to figure out what I want to say before I can even make the call. Over and over I think of my options, and at least in my head, none of them have a good outcome.
I have feelings for Claire—I know I do. I didn’t think I would. I thought that this wa
s going to be just a fling, like we’d agreed. I thought that I would never feel something like this again after Mary.
But I was wrong.
Claire came into my life and knocked me off balance. I sit there looking down at my phone, and I can’t help but feel simultaneously sad and happy. I want to call her, to hear her voice. But I know if she says no, I would be devastated.
I contemplate my feelings a while longer and finally muster up the courage to push the Call button. The phone rings and rings. Each time I hear it ring, I want to hang up. Finally, she answers.
“Hello?”
“Hi, Claire. It’s Alex.”
“Yeah, caller ID.”
“Right. Look I wanted to know if we could… maybe talk about things a little.”
“Now is not a good time, Alex.”
“What about tomorrow? Or Tuesday?”
“Alex… I don’t have time right now. Sorry.”
I can hear that there’s something wrong. I start to wonder if it’s me.
“Wednesday?”
“It’s not a good idea. We’ve already overstayed our one night.”
“I just want to talk, I swear. We can get a coffee or lunch or…”
“I’m not feeling very well right now. I have to go.”
“Claire—”
“Bye, Alex.”
The phone goes dead. My heart drops. My hands fall between my knees, and the phone clanks onto the floor. I don’t really know what I’m feeling, but it’s terrible. I feel sick to my stomach, my heart aches, my mind is foggy, and all I want to do is be near Claire.
14
Claire
I’ve gotten no less than a dozen phone calls from Alex within the last forty-eight hours. I haven’t answered a single one of them. I want to, but at the same time I know I can’t. It’s not that he’s done something wrong or that he’s a bad person or anything like that. I really do like him, but I know it’s over. It’s more than over.
I wasn’t expecting to stay over at Alex’s place after the party. It was great that he invited me over, and I’d felt like I should at least help him get all of Sadie’s gifts home safe. It was really nice to get to know him a little better, even if it was over a few bottles of wine. I honestly can’t say that the sex that night was bad. It was more than amazing.
Waking up next to him was wonderful, but that was not supposed to on the table. It took me by surprise and I think I may have hurt Alex when I left like that, but I had to. I couldn’t risk Sadie waking up to me and her father either in bed or having breakfast as disheveled as we were.
Once I got home, I immediately took a shower and just relaxed for a few minutes until it dawned on me that I was late. I’d thought I was just nervous or stressed or whatever, and one or two days isn’t that big of a deal usually. Things happen and hormones and cycles get wonky. But I’ve never been this late.
I went back into the bathroom and took a pregnancy test. That’s when I found out. Mere seconds after reading the dipstick, I got the call from Alex. I both wanted to burst into tears and tell him the exciting news, but I couldn’t muster either.
When I finally got him off the phone, I took another one, just to be sure. That little plus sign came up again, bright as day. I sat in my living room most of the day, wondering what I could do. Alex already told me that he doesn’t think he’d want more kids, and we had already agreed this was a fling. I certainly don’t think I could handle this whole thing on my own, but it would be wrong to go through the final option without talking to him first, wouldn’t it?
I took the day off on Monday to sit with my thoughts and gather any information I could from any help website I could find. I was quite surprised by the sheer amount of information there is out there about this kind of stuff: blogs and videos and message boards all about flings gone wrong. I reached out to a few women who each had their own take on the matter.
Today I’ve been quiet at work and no one has really bothered me, which is just what I was hoping for. I know that I have the time to meet with Alex, but I don’t know what I’d say.
“Hey, I know you didn’t want kids, but I’m knocked up now.”
That’s not quite what one-night stands want to hear. In fact, most would become really defensive and start blaming you for being a slut. Clearly, it couldn’t be theirs.
I start to think about all of our various encounters, and my heart sinks. I sit back in my chair and slap my palms against my forehead. Hailey warned me to take condoms with me, and I did have them stashed in my purse, but it didn’t actually occur to me until now that we never used them.
I mentally punish myself and imagine myself sitting in the corner like when I was a little girl and stole the last cookie out of the jar.
“Stupid. Stupid. Stupid,” I chant at myself.
My phone rings, and I ignore it. I certainly can’t face him now. This is entirely my fault, and I know he won’t want anything to do with me now. Maybe one of the women on the message boards will have some advice.
I want a coffee. Can I even have a coffee?
I get up and leave the office with my purse on my shoulder. I hail a taxi and take it to a coffee shop within walking distance from my apartment. I stand in line for the seemingly mandatory ten to fifteen minutes before getting to order. Then I wait at least twenty minutes for my fancy sugar-loaded, chocolate-strewn, iced coffee drink. I decide to take my time and sit at one of the nearby tables, sipping my drink slowly through a straw.
I watch the people come and go. A mother comes in with a toddler on her hip and a grade-schooler behind her. She goes up to the counter and hands the child a cookie, orders a tea for herself, and a cup of milk for the toddler. I smile as I watch them. Her juggling skills impress me as she manages to keep an eye on the wandering grade-schooler while also ensuring the toddler isn’t fussing.
A few customers later, a young couple walks in with their arms linked. The woman has her head on the man’s shoulder, and they’re both smiling happily. The man kisses her forehead softly before asking her what she wants. They order and seem in such bliss together.
I think about how Alex has treated me up until this point. He has been a true gentleman, even in the bedroom. I think about the couple and imagine what it would be like if it were us. I know that Alex would buy our coffees, and I could hold his arm and put my head on his chest. We could be happy, smiling, together.
Eventually, I walk home alone. Once I get home I plop down on the couch, not even bothering to kick off my shoes or take off my jacket. My phone rings again, and I ignore it. I know it’s him. I’m not ready. I know what I want. Or at least I think I do. I want to be happy. I want him to be happy. Do I want to be happy with him?
I flip on the TV and find a romantic comedy to watch. It doesn’t necessarily help the situation, but it at least allows me to yell at the made-up character Roger and his dastardly deeds. Otherwise, I’d just be sitting here thinking about Alex and multiplying cells in my uterus.
After the first ten minutes, I kick off my shoes, change into some sweatpants, and plop back onto the couch with a large bowl of ice cream and a comfy blanket. I watch the movie until it gets dark, then find another to watch.
My phone buzzes. It buzzes again, and again. I stretch my foot out onto the table next to it and slide my foot quickly across it, knocking the phone clear across the room. I shrug and continue watching my movie.
About halfway through, there’s a knock at my door. I look at it, then back at my TV screen. I’m not home, and no one can change that.
There’s another knock. I turn up the volume just a little. I’m still not home.
“Claire? I know you’re home.”
I look up at the door in shock. I consider not opening it for a moment, and then he knocks again.
I get up off the couch and wrap myself up in the blanket, then open the door to find Alex there. He’s in a nice button-up shirt, a pair of slacks, and a long wool trench coat. He looks good while I look like a mess.
“May I come in?”
I stand there pondering the idea that he’s really a vampire and if I don’t invite him in, then he can’t come in. And if he can’t come in, then we don’t have to have a conversation. I wonder if I can really pull that off, but I figure it’s a long shot.
“Sure.”
He enters and I shut the door behind him. I grab the remote and turn off the sappy movie. Then I move to the couch, and he sits down next to me.
“I know you’ve been ignoring my calls and my texts. What’s going on, Claire?”
He looks deeply into my eyes, and I can see the sorrow building inside. “I’ve just not been feeling well. That’s all.”
He reaches forward and gently holds my hand in his. “I know that’s not it.”
I sniffle and pull my blanket closer around myself.
“Did I do something wrong?”
I bite my lip. I know that I should tell him, I really should. He deserves to know. It would be mean to hide something like this from him. But I don’t know how to tell him. “Not really…”
He furrows his brow in confusion. “What do you mean?”
“Nothing to worry about,” I say with the fakest smile I can muster. Inside I regret my statement.
“Okay,” he says. He just accepts it so easily. He doesn’t seem pleased to have to accept it, but he does.
We sit there in silence for a bit. Eventually I pull my hand away from his. I do my best not to look at him because I know that if our eyes meet, then I’ll burst into tears.
“Claire, I’ve been meaning to talk to you, and up until now I didn’t really know how to go about it.”
“Alex…”
“Please, just hear me out and listen to what I have to say.”
I sigh uncertainly at his request. I turn away slightly so he can’t see the pain I feel inside. I know it’s showing through my eyes, and I don’t want him to see.
“Claire…” he begins. “I’ve been thinking about this for quite a while now, and honestly I never thought I’d be saying this. It’s been quite a wild ride, and I don’t know if this is the right thing to say but…”
