Francisco’s presence brought tension to the gathering, but I mostly tried to ignore him. My mother, however, repeatedly referred to him as Francis. I soon realized she was doing it on purpose.
When it was time to leave, I went to the car and started the engine, turning on the heater. When the vehicle had warmed, Thomas walked out with me and fastened Ryan’s carrier into the back seat. “There you go, little man. Ready to roll.”
“I hope he’s ready to sleep tonight, but I know I won’t be that lucky.”
“I’m sorry you have to do this alone.”
“I’m not alone. My parents are there. But no one else can feed him. I wouldn’t trade this experience for anything, so don’t sweat.”
He gazed at me, then asked, “Are you saying I’m forgiven?”
I hesitated. Was he forgiven? Before I could respond, my mother opened the car door to slide inside next to the baby. Audrey and my father followed, arguing over which of them would drive.
“Merry Christmas, Thomas.” I stretched up and kissed his cheek, pointedly not answering his question.
“Merry Christmas. I’ll talk to you soon.” He waved to my family before returning to the house.
~ * ~
Then came New Year’s Eve. Audrey was invited to a party with Julian. She wasn’t going to go, but Mom and I both insisted. Even though there was no romantic future there, I was happy she had his friendship.
I was changing Ryan when the doorbell rang. “Can someone get that?” I called out to the living room.
“Got it,” my father said.
I heard the murmur of voices and then someone padding down the hall. Shay whirled around in the doorway to my bedroom. She smiled from ear to ear.
“What’s up?” I asked.
She just stood there, smiling.
“Shay?”
“I’m pregnant!”
I settled Ryan in his crib and rushed to her, wrapping her in a hug. “Oh, my God. Congratulations! When did you find out?”
“This afternoon. I suspected, but I didn’t want to trust the home test. My doctor confirmed it today.”
“Come on. Sit down.” I led her to the bed. “How’s Maurice?”
“He’s ecstatic. He’s been on his phone for the last two hours calling everyone he knows.”
“I’m so happy for you. What a wonderful way to begin the New Year.”
She moved to the crib and gazed down at Ryan. “I can hardly wait.” She turned back to me. “Maurice and I are going to a party with some of his co-workers. I’d rather stay at home with him and savor the news, but he wants to go out and celebrate. He’s so proud of the accomplishment, you’d think he did it all by himself.”
I chuckled. “Wait a few months until he clearly sees who’s in charge of the pregnancy.”
She patted her hard, flat abdomen. “Yeah. I’m gonna miss this, but…” She pointed at my sleeping son. “It’s worth it all to end up with that.”
“He isn’t this quiet all the time. You should know there’s another side to him. The demanding, crying, spitting, pooping side.”
“And you love every minute of it,” she said with a grin.
“Yeah, most of it. The diapers—maybe not so much.”
“Okay, so I better get back to the house and get dressed. I just couldn’t wait to tell you.”
I walked with her to the door. “I’m happy for you and Maurice. You’re going to be wonderful parents.”
“Thanks. Happy New Year,” she called in to my parents before leaving.
I relished the blast of cold air as I stepped out onto the porch. Ever since the baby came home, my father kept hitching up the thermostat an extra five degrees. It was sweltering in the house.
I made popcorn and we settled in front of the TV. Mom picked up the remote and surfed until she found the channel showing the hours of celebration before the shimmering ball dropped over Times Square. The party sounds faded as my mind soared down memory lane, dragging my heart behind like a tin can tied to a bumper. A new year. Everyone said it was time for a new beginning, a fresh start. What if I didn’t want to start over? Should old acquaintance be forgot?
“Meg?” My mother’s voice pierced the fog in my head.
“Hmm? What?”
“You were off on another planet. I asked if you want a refill on your tea.”
“Oh.” I stared at the empty cup. “No, thanks.”
“Who’s up for a game of poker?” my father asked.
“Points or cash?” I grinned.
“I have some loose change. Let’s make it interesting. Pauline?” He glanced at my mother.
“Sure. I’ll take your money.”
We played several hands before Ryan’s whimper sounded in the monitor.
“Feeding time,” I said.
“I’ll clean up here. Besides, you’ve already cleaned out my pockets.” Dad carried the empty bowls and glasses to the sink.
“I’ll be back.”
“Don’t forget to set your wallet on the windowsill,” my mother said.
I smiled. Placing one’s wallet on the windowsill before midnight had been a tradition in our house. My mother swore that doing so would ensure prosperity for the coming year. Of course, wealth to my mother meant simply having enough.
Sitting in the rocker, moonlight streaming into my face, I gazed down at my nursing son. Love I had never known washed through me, and I knew I would walk across broken glass for this child. I was beginning to understand my parents and grandparents.
After his feeding, I carried Ryan into the living room with me and settled him in his carrier. I needed to have him near me as I ushered in the New Year—the new beginning for both of us. I pulled my wallet from my purse and set it on the windowsill beside my father’s black leather billfold and my mother’s tapestry clutch.
On the TV, a chorus of voices counted down, “Five, four, three, two, one.”
Dad leaned over and kissed my cheek. “Happy New Year, sweetheart.”
“Happy New Year, Daddy.”
He kissed Mom then my mother wrapped me in a hug. “It’s going to be a Happy New Year for you and Ryan. I’m sure of it.”
I hoped she was right.
Chapter Thirty-Four
My parents returned to Florida the following week. It was hard to say goodbye. I was terrified of being alone day and night with Ryan. I somehow managed to get through the following month and settle into a routine with the baby, learning to sleep when he slept. That would end all too soon, however, when I returned to work. Thomas had begun to visit more frequently, often in the middle of the day to see the baby. I tried to give him space and alone time with Ryan.
February fourteenth—St. Valentine’s Day. It was also a Monday and my first day back to work. Elena arrived at my house at seven-thirty a.m., ready to spend the day caring for Ryan. I had changed him, fed him, and then pumped milk for the rest of the morning. I’d had Nikki set my schedule so that I’d have two hour lunches and time to run home.
I cuddled Ryan against my chest and breathed in his sweet scent. “Mama’s going to miss you so much.” I pressed my lips to his downy soft head. “Be a good boy for your abuela.”
Elena came in from the kitchen holding my travel mug. “You’re going to be late,” she said, setting the mug on the table next to my purse.
“I know. I don’t want to leave him.” I kissed his cheek and handed my son over to his grandmother. “If you need me, just tell Nikki it’s urgent and she’ll interrupt my session. Oh, and his wet cry is more of a whimper than his hungry cry. That one’s a little more insistent.”
Elena lifted the baby from my arms. “I’ll figure out his language and we’ll be fine.”
“Of course you will. I’m not worried about you. I just… God, it’s so hard to leave him.”
She handed me the travel mug. “Meg, go to work. We’ll see you at lunch time.”
“I know. I’m being ridiculous.” I swiped at an errant tear that slid from the corner of my righ
t eye.
Elena patted my arm. “Not ridiculous. You’re being a mother. I’d worry about you if it was too easy for you to leave him.”
“I’m going. I swear I’m going now. Where are my keys?” I rummaged in my coat pockets and Elena picked up my keys from the hall table and handed them to me. “Thanks.” I opened the door and then turned back. “Oh, and he loves the song Crazy Love by Michael Buble. I have it cued up on the CD player in the nursery. Just press the play button.”
Laughing, Elena gave my arm a playful shove. “Go. We will be fine.”
I sat in the car for a moment, staring back at my house, thinking about my late mornings with Ryan. I would nurse him, then lay him on the bed beside me and just stare at him, watching him sleep. His little bow-like mouth would pucker up and he would suck at nothing, his eyelids lifting slightly, then closing again. I would place my hand on his chest and feel it rise and fall with every breath. He would wrap the tiny fingers of one hand around my finger, and I would fall in love once again.
I sighed and started the car.
~ * ~
That first day back in my office seemed like it would never end. But in the following weeks, I fell in to an easy rhythm of preparing for work, nursing the baby and then turning him over to Elena’s care. On Wednesdays when I worked into the evening, Thomas took over for his mother.
When Ryan was four months old, I told Thomas we needed to finalize the divorce. “It’s time. We both need to move on with our lives. And I’ve found a reasonable health insurance plan. You can keep Ryan on your insurance as a dependent, or I can add him to mine.”
Silence hissed in the phone.
“Thomas? We’ve talked about this.”
“I know.” He paused. “Are you…seeing someone?”
I laughed. “Yeah, in my spare time, I’m having a torrid affair with Brad Pitt.” I raked a hand through my hair. “Come on, Thomas. When would I see someone? If I’m not at work, I’m with Ryan.”
“I’ve told you to leave him with me overnight and give yourself a break.”
“That’s a little difficult when I’m still nursing him.”
“If you wean him, then it won’t be an issue. He already takes breast milk in a bottle.”
“It’s too soon.” But I was starting to feel like the family cow.
“For whom, you or the baby?”
“I’m not going there. When he’s a year old—”
“A year? Are you telling me I can’t keep my own son overnight for a year?”
“Look, in a month, perhaps. You’re right. I’m already pumping breast milk for him, so I can prepare bottles for you to take.”
“Meg, I live ten minutes away from your house. And it’s not like I’ve never handled a baby before.”
“I know. But I think he’s getting a cold. Let me take care of that first.” I felt trapped. “So, can we sit down and talk about finalizing things?”
“Friday evening?” he asked.
“Okay, I’ll see you tomorrow, say around six-thirty.”
“Tomorrow?” he asked.
“Tomorrow is Friday.”
“Oh. Right. I was distracted. See you tomorrow.”
I closed my eyes, wondering if I looked up, would I find a boulder teetering on a ledge just above my head.
Settling into the recliner, I picked up the remote and scanned the TV for a movie. When the program began, the movie showing was The Break-Up. “Oh, hell, no.” I jabbed the off button and tossed the remote onto the table then removed my laptop from its case and turned it on. My intention was to play solitaire, but I soon found myself surfing the Internet. I looked up a few recipes, logged into a child development site to check Ryan’s progress in comparison to other babies his age. Then I typed into the browser ‘gay husband.’ I was stunned by the list of websites and blogs that came up. Huh. I guess I’m not the only one.
Chapter Thirty-Five
I was nursing Ryan when Thomas arrived. Not wanting to shout for him to come in, I juggled Ryan who had a death grip on my breast. I opened the door for Thomas to come inside.
Thomas’s eyes settled on the baby sucking vigorously. “He’s serious about his dinner, isn’t he?”
“Nothing wrong with his appetite. That’s for sure.” I returned to the living room and eased into the recliner once again. “I’m sorry. I thought he’d finish before you arrived, but he hasn’t come up for air.”
Ryan released my nipple and grinned. I dabbed at his moist lips, then handed Thomas the diaper I’d had over my shoulder, followed by the baby. While Thomas burped him, I tucked myself back into my nursing bra and buttoned my blouse.
“He’s gaining weight,” Thomas said.
“I’m not surprised, given the way he eats. Speaking of eating, I’ll call Datillo’s and order a pizza.” I headed to the kitchen for the restaurant’s phone number hanging on the fridge.
Thomas shook his head. “None for me. My stomach’s been a little off lately. Probably too much spicy food. But you go ahead.”
Next to his mother’s enchiladas, Datillo’s pizza was Thomas’s favorite. “Now I’m worried if you’re passing up pizza.”
“Maybe I’m turning into my grandfather. He always complained of indigestion as he got older.”
My breath caught. “Yes, and he also died of a heart attack.”
Thomas sat on the sofa and propped Ryan up on his lap. “I’m not going to have a heart attack. I just don’t want to eat pizza this late and then be up all night.”
“How about turkey sandwiches, then? I can make them.”
He gave a resigned sigh—the kind that said, ‘Fine. Whatever. I don’t want to argue.’ “I’ll tuck him into his crib.”
“He needs to be changed first. I can do it.”
“I can change a diaper. You want a different sleeper on him, too?”
“No, that one’s fine. Thanks.”
I prepared two turkey sandwiches and poured each of us a glass of skim milk. I smiled as I listened to Thomas through the baby monitor, his sing-song way of talking to Ryan while he changed him. Then I heard a shift in his tone. His voice deepened and sounded husky as he said, “I hope you always know how much I love you.” He said it as if he wouldn’t be here to tell Ryan on a regular basis.
I grabbed a bag of potato chips from the cupboard and deposited a handful of chips onto each of our plates. It was quiet and I assumed Thomas would be on his way back to the kitchen. But when five more minutes passed and he hadn’t returned, I got concerned. I didn’t want to call to him and risk waking the baby.
Thomas wasn’t in Ryan’s room. I turned to see him in my room, sitting on the edge of my bed, his face in his hands. “Thomas?”
His head jerked up. “I’m sorry. I thought I’d steal a moment of quiet and gather my thoughts before we talk.”
I crossed the room and sat beside him. “Is that all?”
He rubbed his palms on the knees of his khakis. “I haven’t had a minute to think since yesterday.” He pushed up to his feet and lifted his chin toward the baby’s room. “He went right to sleep.”
“Good. He’s been a little cranky for the last few days. I think he’s starting to get a few teeth.”
“Already?”
“Not unusual at four months. Before we know it, he’ll be crawling, then walking, then driving—”
“I don’t want to miss any of it, Meg. However we work out the custody, I want to be a part of everything, every change.”
I furrowed my eyebrows. “Why wouldn’t you be? Come on. Let’s eat dinner and talk.”
His fingers encircled my wrist. “Wait. There’s something else.”
“What?”
“Sit down for a minute.” He motioned to the bed.
“We can talk in the kitchen.”
“Please just sit.” He sat down and pulled me down beside him. “I have to tell you something.”
Fear clenched my stomach.
His eyes steadied on mine. “I’m…sick.”
“Oh, God. You have AIDS.”
“No. Nothing like that. I’m getting some tests done. They’re not sure what’s going on, exactly. It may be nothing, or it could be…something.”
“How long have you known about this?”
“A couple of months, but—”
“And you’re just telling me now?” Anger sliced through the fear.
“I thought about it today and decided it was time you knew, even though I don’t have the results yet.”
“You decided?”
“We’re not together, Meg. I didn’t know how much I was supposed to tell you. I didn’t want you to worry and I certainly don’t want your pity.”
“I…I. Guess what, Thomas, this isn’t only about you! You’ve been sick for months and you’ve kept it to yourself. Just like you decided I didn’t need to know about your attraction to men. I was your wife! Then you decided it was time to tell the truth.” Anger boiled in me. “You and your damned honesty. You wear it like a shield and think that makes everything okay—as long as you’re just being honest. Saint Thomas the Honest. Damn you!”
He put an arm around me and I slumped against him, half-heartedly pounding his chest. “What if…? What if you…?” I couldn’t finish the thought. I couldn’t imagine losing Thomas completely. Ryan needed him.
“Shhh. We’re not up to wondering about what if’s yet.”
I pulled away from him. “I want to know everything. You sat at my side through every single doctor’s appointment and yet you didn’t mention once that you were getting tests done. How could you keep that a secret? Oh, I forgot, you’re good at keeping secrets.”
His face flushed, and the muscle in his jaw twitched. “I’m not the only one who’s good at secrets, Meg. How about you deciding a baby could improve our marriage? When was I consulted about that one?”
I gasped. “Are you saying you don’t want our son?”
“Dammit, no! That’s not what I said. But if we had talked about it—”
Unconditional Page 21
