by Brinda Berry
I school my features so I don’t give my panic away. I don’t really know anything about schizophrenia, except for the movies I’ve seen. I’ve never known anyone with it. “And this is hereditary?”
He takes a bite of his sandwich, purposefully avoiding my question for the moment. I follow his lead take a bite of my own, pretending we have all the time in the world.
He swallows hard and takes a drink. “Yeah there’s a chance of genes passing on. I thought it would be smart if I didn’t get married. You know…in case I’m ever diagnosed or if my kid…”
“But Dane, that would be like me saying I don’t want to have kids because my grandpa died of a heart attack or my cousin has a baby with Down syndrome. You can’t stop living just because something might or might not happen. I’d like to do some research about this when I get back to the bookstore. Maybe you’re more scared than you need to be.”
Dane shrugs. “I wasn’t that afraid of it until saw Ellen have a relapse. She was pretty damn scary. Dangerous to herself and other people. You have no idea how it is when someone is so far outside reality that they think you might be the boogeyman.”
“Oh, Dane. I’m so sorry.”
“But don’t be scared for the baby, okay? I just want you to know how serious it is.”
"Okay. It’s going to be fine. I’m not trying to minimize anything, and I understand the risk.” I reach under the table and rub across his knee. “Can you tell me anything else about Ellen?”
He bites into his sandwich and I don’t rush him to answer. Finally he gives a brief nod as if he’s come up with something. “She’s artistic. She likes to draw and paint.”
“Is she any good?”
“I don’t know if her drawings are good or bad since they’re abstract and I’ve never understood those.”
This makes me laugh. “I can tell you’re very impressed.”
“I’m telling you, Josie, Ellen is strange. I don't know if that’s part of the schizophrenia or if that’s just her personality. She’s suspicious of everything and nothing. She'll ask me what time it is over and over within a half-hour. She has a hard time with understanding money. She won’t get a credit card or checking account because she needs the anonymity of paying with cash. It’s hard for people to deal with her. She argues with people over crazy stuff and then I have to go and intervene so her electricity doesn’t get shut off or her insurance cancelled.”
“She’s lucky that you care.”
I shrug. “I don’t know why I do, but I feel responsible for her. She acts like my visits are the highlight of her life. It’s incredibly sad. Ellen told me that she knew I would never have a normal life if she kept me. She told me that she fell into a dark depression on the day she handed me to my parents. She tried to commit suicide by drinking bleach. Bleach,” he mutters and shakes his head.
My heart contracts sharply. So many emotions play across his handsome face. Guilt. Fear. Regret.
Dane plays with a potato chip on his plate. “I try to go and see her or call once a week. Just check and make sure that she’s in a good place mentally. When she had that relapse earlier in the year, I’d dropped by to see her. When I got there, she accused me of working for the government and spying on her. She’d smashed every light in the apartment. She thought there were cameras in them.” He takes a deep breath and exhales. “But she’s not like that all the time. And when she’s not, she’s almost okay. The thing is….she has no one. Her parents are dead. She has a sister who won’t have anything to do with her. Butterfly, I am the only person she has.” His gaze begs me for understanding.
“Of course you worry about her.” I sit back and rub one hand over my stomach.
His expression grows alarmed. “What’s wrong? Does your stomach hurt?”
“I think I just ate way too much.” I take a deep breath which evolves into a yawn.
Dane gets to his feet and grabs our plates. “Enough about Ellen. You are here to catch up on your rest. I’ll get the dishes, and you go sit on the sofa. Take another nap or read a book.”
“I’m taking you up on this. But don’t take advantage of me if I fall asleep. Don’t even think about putting my head in your lap again.”
The deep rumble of his laugh puts a smile on my face. Maybe I can do this with him. Friends who don’t ever, ever get naked with each other.
Friends who can love a baby together.
On Monday morning, Leo strolls into the bookstore. He wears a relaxed smile that says a lot about his current state of mind. It’s nice that life handed love and romance to one of us.
Too bad that the smile isn’t going to last after my announcement.
“Morning, sis.” He walks to the end of the counter and picks up a flyer from a local band. Flipping his sunglasses to the top of his head, he examines the advertisement. “Mean Girls with Guitars. Are they any good?”
“Oh…uh…yeah. They’re great. Listen. I asked you to come by so I could talk to you about something.” I tap the pen I hold against the wood counter in a rhythmic beat.
Leo reaches across and grabs the pen. “All ears.”
“It's something about me and Dane.”
His eyes crinkle at the corners and he gets this smug look on his face. “Oh yeah?”
I draw in a deep breath and smile reassuringly. “Life is funny, you know? Sometimes things just happen and you’re blindsided by the whole thing,” I say in a rush.
He lowers his chin and peers up at me, the grin widening. “You and Dane? Sis. I could see this coming a mile away–”
“It's not what you think.”
He lifts his chin and gives a confident chuckle. “I know exactly what it is. And quit acting so weird. You and Dane.” He shakes his head. “I have to say it’s about time. You guys should be dating.”
The sibling voice inside my head taunts, Wait for it… “We're going to have a baby.”
He doesn't move. His lips turn downward. “A baby?”
I exhale and give a long blink. “Whew. I am so glad to get that off my chest.”
His eyebrows jump into his hairline. “Are you kidding me?”
“I knew you would feel this way. But before you start lecturing me, I'm not upset about it. Not like you think I might be. I mean, sure. Who expects an unplanned pregnancy with a guy they're not even dating. But you know how I feel about Dane. And as far as accidents go, I refuse to be sorry about it.”
The silence is deafening, like charged air after a clap of thunder. I attempt to swallow past the lump in my throat. No crying. Dammit these hormones are going to kill me.
“Does Dane know?” His gentle voice loosens the tears pricking my eyes.
“Yeah.” A tear escapes and I drag fingers over my cheek to catch it. “He’s going to be a great father. You know he will be.”
Leo comes around to my side of the counter and leans against the wall. “I’m going to be an uncle.”
“Um hm.”
He grins—a real one that lightens my spirits and puts a lid on my hormonal mood swing. “Why does this feel so inevitable? You two could never fight that pull. I accepted this a long time ago. So, a baby it is.” He sighs. “I should’ve known you were pregnant.”
My lips part into a smile so large it hurts. “How would you know?”
He leans over and gives me a side hug. “I’ve been queasy for weeks. I should’ve known it was the twin voodoo. Why couldn’t I have a brother? I need to figure out a way to cut this metaphysical cord.”
I laugh at his complaint and push him away with one hand. “Wait until we get to the good stuff in the pregnancy.” I slide onto a stool behind the counter. We’re both quiet for a minute.
He pulls his cell phone out and glances at the display. “Can I tell Harper?”
“I’m pretty sure she already knows. I haven’t actually told her, but she sensed it before anyone else. Intuitively. Maybe she’s caught some of the twin voodoo. I’ll ask her to come by and so I can tell her myself.”
Leo f
olds his arms across his chest and stares down for several seconds before looking up to meet my eyes. “I’m going to be the best uncle any kid has ever had. You won’t be alone. Harper and I will babysit anytime. We’ve got this. Can I ask where Dane fits into this picture?”
“We’re like we’ve always been. That’s not changing because of a baby. I don’t need someone to be with me out of obligation. I need a guy who is crazy in love with me and that’s not Dane.”
Leo only stares at me and shakes his head. His look says he knows better than I do. It’s a standard look he’s given me all my life. “Both of you are idiots. Blind idiots.”
“Thanks. I love you, too.”
Chapter Eight
Family
Dane
June
The restaurant staff loves having Harper as a manager, and it’s a good thing because I can’t focus on my job. When a female customer walks in, I check to see if it’s Josie. When my cell rings, I hope to see her face on the caller ID.
I’m not usually so distracted.
I do a restaurant walk-through after the breakfast crowd thins and find Harper giving instructions to a deliveryman at the back door. “Got a second?” I ask.
She signs a ticket and hands it back to the worker. “Sure thing. What’s going on?”
We walk through the kitchen together and I pause. “Can you cover the noon crowd today? I may go out to lunch.”
“Yeah. No problem. Have you talked to Josie lately?”
It’s like the woman can read my mind. “Actually, that’s who I’d like to see at lunch.”
“Good. You need to do that,” she says as if she’s my boss.
I stride quickly to my office for some privacy while I write a text.
Me: Can you get away today?
Josie: What’s up?
Me: Lunch. Talking.
Josie: I don’t think I can. Busy.
Me: You have to eat.
Josie: Not really.
I refrain from mentioning that she’s eating for two. Babies are small, but they need to eat on the regular, right? I want to ask her how much weight she’s gained, but self-preservation screams to stop.
Me: I’ll bring food to you. Anything you want.
Josie: I brought lunch. Sorry. Maybe some other time.
Me: Come on. Half an hour. Dessert. We have the double chocolate explosion today.
Josie: New inventory. Thanks anyway. TTYL.
Me: Let me know if you have ANY time today. Please. Text and I’ll come.
I rock back in my office chair and the springs protest with a squeak-squeak-squeak. In the days before we had our baby-producing night of stellar sex, Josie was a regular customer on Saturdays. She’d leave one of her two employees to cover the store and she’d walk the few blocks to Dastardly’s. Some days I had time to take a break and have a meal with her.
Other days, I’d wave a hand in her direction, too preoccupied with work to take the five seconds to say hello. She was—no, IS—my best friend. The realization knifes me in the chest. You don’t know what you’ve had until it’s missing, leaving a ragged hole in your life that can’t be filled by anyone else.
Apparently, she’s having a silent argument with me in her head. If only she’d tell me what to do to fix this rift.
I check the time on the television mounted high in one corner above the bar and groan. It’s going to be a long day. Like a Rubik’s cube, I turn over and over with more frustration, I can’t solve the puzzle of exactly what I’ve done wrong in the past couple of weeks. She slips further away with every day of distance between us.
I catch Harper looking at me several times. It’s a covert glance from the bar or while taking a customer’s orders. In the late afternoon, I wave her into the alcove at the front of the bar.
“Got a few minutes? Can we talk about Josie?” I rub my hand over my chin and study her. She and Josie are tight. Maybe too tight to tell me the things I want to know.
“Sure.” Harper tucks a strand of hair behind her ear and leans against the wall. “What about her?”
“Is she okay?”
Her eyes widen. “You should be asking her this. What is going on with you guys?”
“I don’t know. It’s like she wants me to leave her alone.”
Harper sighs. “Well, you’d better not do that.”
“Tell me what I need to do. The girl has shut the door on me and I can’t get in, no matter what I say. I text. I call. I’m all out of game plans. If I continue at this pace, she’ll have a good case against me for stalking. But she’s going to have my baby. Mine. And I’m on the outside looking in.”
“She can have a baby without you. If it’s all about the baby, she can be a one-woman show.”
“What the hell is that supposed to mean?”
“It means…you’re dense.” She rolls her eyes at me and every man throughout history.
“No need to get hostile. Remember that I’m the one trying to do whatever necessary to make this right.” I rake fingers through my hair and rest my hand on the back of my head. “Explain it to me. Have mercy on a desperate, stupid man.”
“Why didn’t you guys ever date?”
“What?”
“You know. Dating. That thing where a guy calls a girl and says, ‘Hey, would you go to dinner with me?’”
“We had meals together all the time. Well, not dating per se, but—”
“Oh come on. If you mean when Josie came in here and you comp’d her meals, I should give up.”
“We didn’t date because she was my best friend. I spent all my time with her.”
“Not the same thing and not an excuse. Really. You’re being an idiot. You’ve chased women, dated them, slept with them. I bet you did more than hang out together and split a check. You didn’t treat them like buddies.” She steps in closer and whispers. “She told me about your offer to be friends with benefits. She deserves better. Don’t you know that?”
Everything in my body freezes—my lungs, my brain, my heart. How could I have said those humiliating words to Josie? “I wasn’t thinking straight,” I say in a whisper. “You know how it is in the heat of the moment when you say stuff.”
“Actually, I don’t.”
“I would never say that under normal circumstances. I was thinking with my….”
“And now that you’re not thinking with that head, maybe you can think with the one containing an actual brain. Prove to Josie that you care about her deeply.”
I’m too stunned to say anything, which is fine because Harper spins on her heel and walks away. Josie must have a sour taste in her mouth when it comes to me. I’ve completely failed her. I can do better.
It’s at this moment I see Ellen standing a few feet away. Unease ramps up my pulse. She’s only been here once when I brought her out for lunch. Why is she here today?
I examine the way her hair looks flat on one side as if she’s rolled straight out of bed to come visit me. Hygiene and appearances are not her strong suit.
It’s amazing how I possess zero resemblance to her. My hair is dark. Hers is bleached from some unknown color. I’m tall; she’s barely five foot. All physical attributes came from my anonymous father—the one she either wants to forget or has forgotten.
I favor my adoptive parents more than my biological mother. People who weren’t close to my parents always remarked on it. “Oh you have your father’s eyes and smile.” Or “You have dimples just like your mother.”
I glance at Harper’s back as she walks across the restaurant and back to Ellen. “Everything okay?”
“I missed my baby boy,” she says and stares at Harper. “Is that your girlfriend?”
“No. She works here. Why don’t you come to my office so we can talk?” I lead the way toward the back and hope she follows. Something has to be wrong for her to come all the way across town to see me.
“I brought you some cookies I made,” she says as we walk down the back hall. “Your favorite. Those sugar coo
kies from the plastic tube.”
Last time I visited her, I ate two for the sake of being polite. I don’t have the heart to tell her they taste like day-old bread. “Thanks.”
“So, the girl out front isn’t your girlfriend. You don’t have one?”
We walk into the office and I close the door. My shoulder blades pull together as my muscles tense. What can it hurt to tell Ellen now? I’m going to at some point. It might as well be today. “I actually do. Her name is Josie.”
“She work here?”
“No.”
“Oh. She’s that kind that don’t work. She’s hoping she can live off your money.” Ellen nods as if she hasn’t said something really insulting about Josie.
Josie busts her ass to run that store and I bite back a remark about Ellen’s lack of employment. I give a slow blink, breathing in and out. My irritation subsides. “She does work. She owns a bookstore.”
“Oh. I love books. My landlord gave me one of those adult coloring books with swear words. Do you think she has those?”
“Uh…maybe. I can ask her.” I walk around to the other side of my desk and sit. “Have a seat. What’s up?”
Ellen makes herself comfortable in a chair near the office door. “I just thought you’d like…” She hands across the plastic container of cookies. “…a treat. You work hard and you do nice things for me all the time.”
“You didn’t have to. You know I’ll be by your place on Sunday afternoon.”
“I’ll make your favorite—chicken and dumplings. Bring your girlfriend. I want to see who has stolen my little boy’s heart.”
Ellen keeps calling me her boy as if we are stuck in some alternate reality where she raised me. It’s weird and a new thing I wish she’d stop doing.
“We’ll see,” I answer.
“Dane?”
“Hmm?” I wait for her to ask something. There has to be another reason for her visit.
“I want you to know I am grateful for you. My life would be empty without you.” She gets to her feet and comes around to stand at the side of my desk.
