Bittersweet

by K. S. Thomas

  “Maybe you could clarify next time before you make a sound that resembles a hippopotamus being deflated,” Lev grumbles as she continues on toward the stairs with a load of bags full of stuff we acquired while at the hospital. It’s amazing the free stuff they will give you just for popping out a baby. Suddenly not having had time to have a baby shower doesn’t seem like such a big deal. Not when the hospital saw fit to bestow upon me two different diaper bags filled to the rim with stuff I’ve never seen before in my life, but will likely become acquainted with here shortly.

  “What exactly does a hippo sound like when it’s being deflated? And, how would that even work? Are we talking about a massive amount of gas? Are you comparing my contented sigh to a hippo fart?” I want to sound outraged, but I’m already laughing so hard Evan wakes up and stares around the room, startled by all the noise. Because I’m not the only one cracking up. Lev is doubled over on the stairs while my mom is busy shaking her head all the way to the kitchen doing her best to hide being amused by the word ‘fart’. Carter is sitting on the sofa next to me laughing louder than I’ve heard him laugh in months and for the first time in a long time, I peer around the room and think, God is in his heavens, all is right with the world.

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Carter ~ Seven Years Ago

  “Un-fucking-believable.” It’s all I’ve been saying since I met with one of the counselors on campus. I must have said it a hundred fucking times already. “Un-fucking-believable.” I throw my bag across the floor and slam the door shut behind me. “Es?”

  She comes out of the bedroom, glasses resting on the tip of her nose and a book in her hands. For a brief moment, I’m distracted by the thought that most people don’t even know she wears glasses to read and that it’s just one more thing, one more detail, one more Esi secret I’m a part of now. Then I see her expression and remember I slammed the door. I’m pissed.

  “What’s wrong? Why is your bag making out with the floor boards?”

  My gaze drops to the ground and I see the flap of my messenger bag turned up. It really does look like it’s making out with the floor boards. I grin again. Why can’t I stay focused when I’m with her?

  “My parents got their money refunded. All my classes have been dropped from my schedule, or rather, I’ve been dropped from all my classes.”

  She takes off the glasses, rubbing her forehead with her fingers. “What are you talking about? That can’t be right. There must be some mistake.”

  I hold out the piece of paper I’ve crumpled fifty different ways since it was first handed to me and she takes it. “Says so right there. As of this moment, I am not a student anymore.”

  I watch her pupils jet back and forth across the paper over and over again. “No. They wouldn’t do this. You had one semester left. One fucking semester. It was already paid for. Your classes were already selected. You got your books.”

  “I know. I know!” I run my fingers over my face and through my hair several times. It does nothing to clear my thoughts. “I mean, I knew I’d be on my own come law school. That I was prepared for. This...they know there’s no way I can get the money together in time to get back into those classes and graduate this summer. They have to know how much they just royally fucked me.”

  Of course they know. They’ve been organizing all of this since before I even started high school. They were the ones who decided I had to go to a prep school. They arranged for all of my extracurricular and charitable activities required to get into the best schools. And it would have to be the best. My father had gone to Yale. Grandfather to Harvard. Naturally, I was expected to meet a similar standard. One that would be completed only upon finishing law school and passing the bar. Because they’d been busy planning my life after school as well. Which was why I’d been working summers at my father’s law firm since I was sixteen. Why I’d been interning there since I enrolled in classes at the University. And why I was now screwed every which way the sun shone. No job. No money. No education and no fucking direction.

  “Maybe not.” The tender tone of Esi’s voice somehow still manages to override the internal screaming going on in my own mind.

  “What do you mean?” I’m not even annoyed by her suggestion. I really want to know.

  “I mean, yeah, they know what they did. They have to know. And, I guess we kind of knew as well. I mean, this is what they said they would do. Although, I agree, it’s an extra kind of shitty to go retroactive on cutting you off.” She folds the already creased up paper in half, putting everything written on it out of sight. “But, maybe you’re not royally fucked. Maybe, you’re royally blessed.”

  “Okay.” I’m not seeing it. But I know Es. She’ll show me.

  “I know it sucks being this close to finishing school and moving on to the next chapter of your education, but maybe it would suck even more, if you finished and then added three more years of studying something you never really wanted to learn in the first place.” Her head is tilted slightly to the side and I can’t help but feel like she’s treating me cautiously, like she’s not sure how I’m going to take the news that she thinks the last seven and a half years of my life have been a complete waste of my time.

  “Are you saying I don’t really want to go to law school? That I don’t really want to be a lawyer?”

  She shrugs, a small half-smile creeping up the left corner of her mouth. “Well, do you?”

  I just stand there, stunned. In almost twenty-two years, no one has ever asked me that.

  “No. I don’t.” And it’s the most surreal and completely honest sentence I’ve ever uttered.

  “Then, maybe you should stop trying to be one.” The right side of her mouth curls up to match the left and she takes a step toward me. “Maybe, you should take this royal gift they’ve given you to figure out what it is you do want to do with your life.”

  As tempting as it sounds, it also sounds terrifying. And inconvenient. “Es, if I start over now. If I switch career paths, change majors, I’ll have to start from scratch. It could be years before I finish school. Especially now that I have to pay for everything myself. What about us? What about starting our lives together?”

  She lifts up onto her tiptoes and kisses me. Her arms snake around my neck and she pulls me to her closer until my forehead is resting on hers. “Our lives together started the moment you came crashing into me outside of that astronomy class room. Everything that has led up to this moment since then, has been you and me, making one conscious decision after the next to be with one another. So, you take all the time you need to figure what you want to do with your life, because I promise, I’m going to make sure my life overlaps with it. We have no set path, Carter. There are no maps. There’s just choosing which way to go and then choosing to go together.”

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Esi

  I walk up the stairs taking one step at a time. It frustrates me to no end how useless this body feels sometimes, but at least I know from here on out things will finally improve again. The infection around my heart is gone and with it the mass which was wreaking all the havoc. Without the strain of being pregnant, this time, the doctors are confident I’ll make a full recovery.

  My mother is right in front of me, cradling Evan to her chest and leading the way into the nursery.

  I let out an audible gasp when I walk into the room. It’s exactly how I imagined it that day with Carter.

  “Does that mean you like it?” Lev is standing beside the crib in the center of the room.

  “I love it. It’s exactly what I wanted. I can’t believe it. How did you guys do it? When?”

  My mom smiles, gently placing Evan into her crib for the very first time. “Well, we took turns coming out here, and we didn’t sleep a whole lot for a couple of days, but it was worth it.”

  Lev nods. “Definitely. And not just because it’s nice to see you smiling like that again. But this little witchling, well, she needed a place that was just right for her.”

&
nbsp; “Really? You’re like the last person I would have expected to call her a witchling.”

  My sister grins. “Girl’s a Harper. She might as well start getting used to it.”

  “Well, since the whole coven is currently present, I suppose I can trust you two to watch over her while I take a shower? I so badly want to get out of these clothes and into a pair of my sweats.”

  “Absolutely. Go. Relax. In fact, I can run you a bath if you like.” My mom is already halfway to the door when I hold out my hand to stop her.

  “No, thanks. I’m good. But I do appreciate it.” I blow a quick kiss to my sleeping beauty and then head across the short hall into my own bedroom. I’ve never been happier to be home in my entire life.

  Peeling off the layers takes a while longer than normal. Even though the weather has finally taken a turn for the warm, I’m still pretty sore and trying to get in and out of sleeves no matter how short, is a task I don’t enjoy.

  Once I manage to escape the confines of my clothing, I walk into the bathroom and hang a fresh towel on the hook near the shower. When I turn around, my own reflection catches me off guard. I’ve been face to face with a mirror since the accident of course, but I’d consciously avoided actually looking in one. Until this moment. When I absentmindedly move about on autopilot and forget about the full length mirror behind the bathroom door.

  So there I am. In all of my post-surgery goriness. The wound on my head from the accident while healed up completely now, seems to have scarred in spite of the doctors best efforts. The good news there is that my hair covers it for the most part.

  My body is another story. There’ll be no hiding what happened here. Between the emergency surgery which left me with less than neat incisions, and a handful of permanent reminders left by the accident, I’ll be a marked woman for life.

  Tracing the areas with my fingers, I continue to examine my own body. I’ve always been petite, even throughout my pregnancy, but I don’t remember my rib cage ever sticking out quite as much as it does now. I lean in toward the mirror, checking every angle of my face. My cheekbones seem more pronounced as well. And not in a good way. I’m starting to look gaunt. I guess if I hadn’t avoided mirrors for so long I would have known to increase my food intake sooner. I also would have been far more prepared for my mother and sister’s reactions and their need to treat me like a baby bird that got dropped out of its nest. Because, seriously, I fucking looked like one.

  I sigh and step away from the wrecked reflection in the mirror. If this is what has happened to my body, I can’t help but wonder what my spirit still has in store for me. Sure, there’s been nightmares ever since the accident, but it stands to reason there’ll be more side effects to sift through as time goes on. And that’s my professional opinion. My patient self is cruising right along, fully prepared to live in denial and believe that the worst is behind me. It’s a double edged sword always being on both sides of my mental health.

  I turn on the water and soon feel the hot pearls melt away my tension as they trickle down my body. It isn’t long before the steam surrounds me like a comfy cocoon of hot air. Lingering for far too long in the heat and cascading water, I’m red and splotchy by the time I get out. I dry myself off and hang the towel back on its hook before I step out of the bathroom and into the adjoining bedroom in search of some comfy clothes.

  Carter is sitting on the bed when I walk in. Even though he’s seen me naked a million times before, I know I look different, worse, now I know exactly how different, and somehow, I’m not sure I want him to see me like this. Not that he’s ever made a big deal over any of it in the last eight months. But that was before. Before I knew what I really looked like.

  “Hey.” He says it so quietly I have to give myself a moment to register what he’s said.

  “I didn’t know you were up here.” I hurry over to the dresser to find a t-shirt I can slip on to cover the massive incision down my chest.

  “Wait.” He stands from the bed and comes toward me. “I want to see it.”

  I frown. “Why?” I cross my arms over my chest automatically. This has bad idea written all over it.

  “Because. It’s a part of you. And I know everything there is to know about you. This can’t be any different. I don’t want it to be any different.” His eyes travel first to my forehead. With my wet hair slicked back, I know the scar is completely exposed. Carter takes another step toward me. He winces as if the sight of the old wound is causing him physical pain.

  “Don’t do that. If you’re going to do that, I won’t let you see it.” I reach up to pull down my hair and cover the spot on my head. “Besides. None of these are new. They don’t even hurt anymore.”

  With my arm out of the way, Carter has a clear shot at my torso and his expression turns grimmer still. “This one’s new. And don’t tell me it doesn’t hurt, because I can tell every time you move that it does.”

  “It’s nothing I can’t manage.” I muster a smile and pray he does the same. “Besides, all I need to do is look at our daughter to know it’s all worth it.”

  Carter’s lips do turn upward ever so slightly. “I ever tell you, you’re the bravest woman I’ve ever known, Esidora Harper?”

  “I feel like maybe I’ve heard it mentioned recently.”

  He takes another step closer, leaning his head down and catching my eyes. “You’re also the most beautiful.”

  And even as I stand there with every scar and imperfection visible and vulnerable to the world, I know he still means it.

  ***

  It’s been over a month since we’ve been home with Evan. Most of the time I feel like she’s growing and changing at record speeds, but the truth is she’s still catching up and while she’s doing well, nothing could have compared to carrying her full term. It’s crazy when I think about it. In some alternate universe I’m still pregnant waiting for my due date ten days from now.

  “There you are.” I find Carter standing in the kitchen. “I was looking for you. Were you back in the office?”

  He glances back toward the door leading to his study. “Yeah, I’ve got a deadline and I’m not nearly ready for it.” He averts his eyes. Maybe it happens automatically because his thoughts are already on his work again, but it feels intentional. Like he’s hiding something.

  I shake my head and silently laugh at myself the moment I think it. Carter doesn’t hide things. Not from me. Must just be work.

  “I have a session with Cynthia and her mom in a bit. Are we going to bother you if we’re in the living room?” I reach for a mug. I’m still nursing so I’m still stuck with decaf, but coffee is coffee.

  “Not at all. I like hearing you in the background. Helps me relax.” He’s not smiling exactly, but there’s a sense of satisfaction on his face. “Evan sleeping?”

  “Yep. Just went down for her nap. And, I think I timed it just right so she’ll sleep straight through my hour with Cynthia.” I take a sip. So good.

  “Have you thought about when you want to start going back into the office?” Carter is leaning back against the counter, his long legs stretched out and crossed in front of him.

  “Well, I’m definitely not in any rush, but, I know I can’t stay home forever. Especially considering Cyndie is my only patient these days, and that’s only because she’d rather come to the house to see me than see anyone else.” I cradle my mug in the palms of my hands. “Truth is though, I don’t know how I’m going to leave Evan and somehow I don’t think Dara’s going to let me bring her to work.”

  Carter snickers at the thought. A newborn at a crisis center would be more than just slightly distracting. “Yeah, I’m pretty sure that’s not going to happen. But, you could always open up your own practice. We’ve got the formal dining room off the foyer we never use. Wouldn’t take much to turn it into an office for you. You could see patients, other than Cynthia and her mother, right from here.”

  I tap the rim of my mug thinking about his proposal. It isn’t that I don’t lov
e the idea of working from home. It wouldn’t just mean being here with Evan, it would mean all of us being together, all the time. Maybe daunting to some couples, but a pretty awesome concept in my mind. “You do know how to tempt a girl, Mister Carter.”

  “But?”

  “But, I need the center. It’s how I connect to my patients. If I don’t have the center, how will I find them? How will they find me?”

  He chuckles quietly. “Es, I think we both know, they don’t need the center to find you.”

  “Fine. So I just need it to find them.” I roll the inside of my cheek back and forth on my teeth, still thinking. “Maybe I could work from home and still be affiliated with the center somehow. I don’t know. You’ve definitely got my brain working now though. I like the idea of having a home office. Both of us being here to raise Evan full time. How lucky would we be? I mean, how many parents get to do that?”

  The smile fades from his face and I wonder if he’s thinking about his dad again. “Not many.” He straightens out his legs and pushes up from the counter. “Well, speaking of the home office, I better get back to mine. Have a good session with Cynthia.”

  “Thanks, I will. And don’t you stay buried back there all night. I know we’re probably still totally behind on things, but I don’t care. I miss you.”

  He stops in the doorway to turn back at me. “I miss you, too, Es.” He raps his knuckles over the door frame twice, then lowers his head and disappears into the adjoining room.

  I barely have enough time to refill my cup when there’s a knock on the door signaling Cynthia’s arrival. She resumed her sessions with me two weeks ago and figured out pretty quickly that the doorbell has been disabled to keep Evan from being jarred from her sleep unnecessarily.

  “Hi there.” I use my most cheerful voice possible to offset the depressing mood I’m greeted with as soon as I open the door. Cyndie’s been doing better. Definitely better than she was, but most days I see her she still seems to be walking around surrounded in a cloud of grey. Not to mention her mother, Margaret, who continues to sit through our sessions without any attempts to convey a single thought or emotion. I understand it’s hard for her. I just wish I knew how to make it easier. For both of them.