Sir, Yes Sir

by Dinah McLeod

  Dean had been thrilled, even more so when we found out we were having a boy. He liked to daydream about the future, and often he'd wake early in the morning, thinking. All he had to do was shift in the bed and I, the light sleeper, would be instantly awake. He'd hold me close, his hands resting lightly on my belly and talk about everything he hoped our lives would be. He wanted his son to love soccer and airplane models and comic books, super heroes and the Army. Whenever he mentioned the Army, I’d changed the subject. I didn't want Dean to get it in his head to enlist our boy before he was even out of the womb!

  This time, I nearly fainted. I felt blood rush to my head and I felt lightheaded. I held the stick up to my eyes, disbelieving. But there it was, two little pink lines. I was going to be a mother to an infant again. Dean and I had never done anything to prevent having more children, it just hadn't ever happened. After buying a few pregnancy tests and being disappointed I'd just pushed the whole thing out of my mind, which explained how I hadn't considered it this time around.

  Suddenly, with vivid recall I remembered the first night in our new apartment. Dean and I had both been lying in bed, staring at the ceiling. I’d noticed some yellow stains encircling the molding, and turning away from it in disgust, which just had me facing the dingy wallpaper instead. Home sweet home. Dean and I had both been awake but not saying a word to each other. Then, out of the corner of my eye I had seen him moving toward me. Before I knew what was happening, he was undressing me. I’d stared up at him, saying nothing, not daring to move. As soon as he'd slid my lounge pants down to my thighs he'd climbed on top. He'd entered me with quick, hard thrusts and I'd muffled my moans with my hand. It had been over almost as quickly as it had begun and he had rolled off me without a word.

  That must have been it, I realized with a pang. What a romantic way to bring a child into the world. That was what we were doing, wasn’t it? My stomach heaved at the thought, but mercifully, I managed to stay my stomach and keep my breakfast—but just barely. I could hardly believe it. Was I really going to have a baby again, at my age? Sure, plenty of women had babies at thirty-five, but how many of them also had teenage sons?

  Suddenly, it hit me: Morgan was going to be a big brother. Oh, God. I could only imagine how thrilled he would be to find out that as he was going through adolescence and hormones there would be a baby in the house. Not to mention someone else to vie for Dean's attention and affection.

  Dean. Oh, crap. The way he'd been acting lately didn't lead to me think he'd take this news very well. Another baby meant another mouth to feed. We'd need a crib, and a stroller, and all that baby stuff. My stomach heaved again, and I couldn't tell if it was just nerves or the hormones I now knew were coursing through my body.

  I didn't know anything about having a baby! I thought in near panic. Not anymore. It had been too long! I'd forgotten most of what I'd known. And besides, things surely had changed in the last seventeen years. Oh, God. What was I going to do? I bent over, putting my head in my hands and trying to take long, deep breaths to calm my racing heart. If this had happened earlier, even just ten years ago, I would have been thrilled. I wouldn't be feeling the fear that was gripping me now. But it hadn't and I'd never felt so confused in my life.

  * * * * *

  By the time I made it to work I was almost twenty minutes late. I tried to sneak in quietly, walking in with my head down and nothing more than a mumbled greeting to Dana. I might have imagined the reproach I thought I saw in her eyes. Of course, everyone knew by now that I was taking Dave's place as the new night manager and I suppose it didn't look good coming in late after I'd gotten a promotion. Normally, I would have made big, lavish apologies, but things being what they were I could hardly find the will to care.

  I walked behind the counter and began counting my till.

  “We have a line,” Dana hissed to me reproachfully. “You should just get started. I wrote the total down for you.”

  I shot her a clipped smile. “I would, you know, but Greg told me to always count my own till.”

  Dana mumbled something about showing up on time, but I ignored her and kept counting. The next six hours passed by in a blur. I took customer after customer, being so efficient that I put even Dana to shame. I bagged food, I went out and swept the lobby and changed the toilet paper in the bathroom. I did my best to stay busy. The less time I had to think, the less time I had to worry.

  When Dana came to find me and say goodbye I realized with some surprise that our workday was at an end. With that realization my earlier anxiety returned full force, like a punch in the stomach. The only bright side was that Dana had thawed toward me as the day wore on–due in part, I was sure, to the fact I'd picked up a lot of her cleaning around the restaurant. At this point, I'd take what I could get.

  As soon as I climbed into the car, I turned the heater on to ward against the cold outside my windows, straining against the glass. Part of me really, really didn't want to go home. Part of me wanted to avoid Dean forever, as if it would make the news go away. And the other part was mad at myself for feeling this way at all. It was in such contrast with the joy and tears I'd felt when the doctor had told me I was pregnant with Morgan.

  “What's wrong with me?” I whispered to my empty car. “I should be happy.” Saying it out loud made me realize how true it was. I was having a baby. Never mind being older, never mind having to learn all over again. A baby! I thought, for the first time in years, about Morgan when he was born. He was all chubby legs and gummy grins. The memory made me smile. He'd been an excellent baby. While all my other friends had complained about colic, projectile vomit and sleepless nights, I’d had Morgan on my hip, cooing and giggling as he played with his own fingers.

  Of course, there was nothing to say I might not get a baby that vomited all over everything and kept me up for nights at a time. Even that sobering thought couldn't wipe the smile from my face. I was pregnant.

  The only black cloud was Dean. Right now I wondered if he could handle another baby as perfect as Morgan, much less a baby that had some of the traits I’d heard about. Right now I didn't think he could handle much more change. Of course, there was nothing to do for it. We’d gotten ourselves into this, and we had to make it work, no matter what. The thought of him being upset by the news was almost enough to sour my own newfound joy. I didn't let it, though. No matter what, someone would be thrilled about this baby. And maybe I wasn't giving Dean enough credit. It would be a shock at first, but he’d come around eventually. He just had to.

  I cranked the car with feelings of resolve. I had to break the news sooner or later, might as well go home and face the music. I didn't care if I was the only one excited, I decided suddenly. Both of the men in my life would come around or have me to answer to, and that was all there was to it.

  * * * * *

  I was in the house and almost to the kitchen when I heard Dean come in. Taking a deep breath, I turned to face him. “Hey.”

  His blond eyebrows quirked up. “Hey. Are you okay?”

  I couldn't help but do a double take. It had been so long since he'd asked me how I was feeling that I almost didn't know how to respond. Of course, we’d be doing plenty of talking soon enough. “Yes...” Just not yet. I quickly chickened out. “How was your day?”

  “It was okay,” he replied with a shrug. “Did some job hunting.”

  I gave him a smile before I turned around and continued to walk toward the kitchen. I could hear his footsteps as he followed behind me. Without turning, I could feel his eyes on me. If I guessed correctly, he was leaning against the counter, watching me as I rifled through the fridge. “Really? How'd it go?”

  “Okay, I guess.”

  I shook my head slightly at the predictable answer. To hear him tell it, the last three months of job hunting had only ever been okay. Nothing more, nothing less. “That's good, right?” I replied with my own practiced answer. I wondered if he was getting as tired of this same old song and dance as I was.

  “
I got offered a job, actually.”

  I was so caught off guard that I dropped the glass bowl I'd been holding. It thunked to the ground and rolled, spilling diced tomatoes all over what had been a clean floor only moments ago. It looked to be fine, but I didn't care about that. “Really?” I exclaimed, stepping around the counter and moving toward my husband.

  “Yep. They offered me a store manager job at Target.”

  “Dean!” I exclaimed, so happy I could cry. “That's so great, honey! That...” I trailed off, my smile dimming when I realized that he looked anything but excited. “You're not going to take it, are you?”

  “Give me some credit, Shelby. Of course I took it,” he said with a sigh. “It’s just...I don't know how to do this, okay? You know the guy that interviewed me is half my age?”

  I furrowed my brow. “He was nineteen? He was a manager?”

  He shrugged, suddenly looking irritable. “He said he was in college. He might have been a few years older, I don't know. The point is, this guy is just a frickin' kid and I had to sit down and practically beg him for a job.” He went from sounding frustrated to angry in thirty seconds flat. “What is this whole messed up world coming to? I used to be somebody, Shelby. I used to be important.” As he spoke, his voice was increasing in volume with every word. “I never thought my life would be like this.”

  “I know,” I said sympathetically, reaching for his hand. I clasped it and gave it a hard squeeze. “But this is great news, Dean. I'm so proud of you, honey. And maybe you'll actually like it and—”

  He snatched his hand away abruptly, his brows drawing together. “Do you have to try to make everything all sunshine and roses? Can't I ever just be pissed?”

  I frowned at him, unsure what to say. “I'm not saying you can't have your feelings, just...don't you want us to be happy, Dean?”

  He opened his mouth to reply but before I could hear what he would say I saw Morgan poke his head around the corner. “Hey, sweetheart,” I greeted him, forcing a smile.

  “Is everything okay?”

  “Everything's great,” I chirped. “Just great. You ready for dinner?”

  “Uh, yeah. So, Mom, Dad…”

  “Yes?” I prompted expectantly.

  “This is Chloe.” Morgan stepped aside and I saw that he was holding the hand of a rail-thin, dark haired beauty.

  Oh, crap! My mind screamed. I'd completely forgotten that he was having company over tonight. So much for my big announcement—looked like it would just have to wait for now.

  “Hello, Chloe,” I greeted her, forcing a smile that I hoped looked warm and inviting.

  “Hello, Mrs. Davies,” she replied in a near whisper, pushing a lock of her jet black hair behind her ear while staring at the floor.

  I shot my son a quizzical look, but he only shrugged. It was funny, when he'd brought it up I could barely remember who Natalie was, apart from the nose ring, of course, but seeing her twin brought the other girl to mind quite vividly. They shared the same lithe, thin figures, the same shiny black hair and almond shaped eyes. But as far as I could tell from spending even a few seconds with Chloe, she was nothing like her sister. Natalie had dominated conversation and had a very showy personality. From what I could see, Chloe was the exact opposite, though maybe too much so. I smiled wider when her eyes flickered to me, trying to put her at ease.

  “Are we gonna eat?” Morgan asked, shifting slightly.

  It was only then that I noticed he'd let go of Chloe’s hand and stuffed his hands into the pockets of his jeans; a sure sign that he was nervous.

  “Of course. Let's go to the dining room, shall we?”

  Morgan was the first to turn to head that way with Chloe following behind. Dean lingered in the kitchen, watching as they left. “What do you think is going on there?”

  “Between Morgan and Chloe?”

  “CM,” he corrected dryly.

  I ducked my head so that my husband wouldn't see my smile. “Of course. I don't think anything is going on, Dean. I mean, he likes her, obviously...”

  “Obviously. What's not to like? He's a teenage boy; she's a teenage girl. Boom, instant romance.”

  I bit my lip to stifle my laughter and so that I wouldn't be tempted to remind my husband that our son was just a few months shy of the ages we’d been when we had tied the knot. I didn't think he would appreciate such a reminder and I wanted to keep things as civil as possible tonight–for Morgan's sake. “I don't think it quite works that easily.”

  He shrugged. “Well, she's cute.”

  I arched a brow. “Is she now?” I teased.

  He cut his eyes at me with a rare grin and reached for one of the black olives I’d put on the counter. I smacked his hand with the rubber spatula I was holding and he chuckled. “Hey, now, you behave. Remember what happened at our last dinner.”

  I opened my mouth to protest, my cheeks beginning to feel warm as I remembered the spanking I'd earned at our last family dinner. When Dean winked at me though, I began to relax. And then I begin to rethink waiting. We were alone and Dean seemed to be in a rare good mood. I might not get a better chance than this. I started to speak, but all that came out was a croak.

  “You okay?” he asked, pilfering another olive.

  I began coughing, choking on my own fear. “Fine,” I gasped. “I'm okay.”

  “You sure?” he asked with a look of concern.

  “Yes, I'm okay.” I smiled weakly. “Why don't you go into the dining room? You can take the olives with you.”

  “Try and stop me,” he quipped with a grin. He took the bowl and I watched his back as he retreated.

  Stupid, stupid! I chided myself. Not only had I chickened out, I’d sent him away from what had probably been my best chance at having him in the right mindset to get the news.

  When I joined my family I could see that there was an unease in the air. Maybe it was just nerves, but no one was speaking. Morgan kept sneaking glances at Chloe, who was looking down at her hands she had folded in her lap. My husband, the helpful individual that he was, was reading the paper and munching olives.

  “Hey, everyone,” I chirped, breaking the silence. “I brought dinner.” I put down the Italian sausage lasagna and the salad bowl. “I'll be right back,” I said, turning to leave.

  “What do you need, Mom?” Morgan asked. “The bread? I'll get it!”

  He jumped up and practically vanished before I even had the chance to answer him. “Well.” I walked around and took my seat, smiling. “That was sweet of him.”

  Chloe looked up and smiled tentatively. “Yeah. CM's a good guy.”

  “That's good to know,” I replied, ignoring Dean's snort.

  “He is,” she replied before once again falling silent.

  I wanted to keep the conversation flowing, but I had so much on my mind that it was hard for me to focus on anything else. I had to make an effort for Morgan, though, I knew that. “Are you in AP English with Mo–CM?”

  “No, Ma'am.”

  She was polite, but geez, she wasn't a conversationalist, was she? “Oh? What class do you two have together?”

  “We don't have any classes together,” my son replied as he came back into the room, bearing bread.

  “Oh, really? How'd you meet then?”

  Chloe opened her mouth to answer, but Morgan cut her off. “Mutual friends,” he replied in a way that made me instantly suspicious. I was prepared to let it drop, but my husband seemed to have other ideas.

  “Which friends would that be?” he asked, still studying the finance section.

  “We met at a Teens for Peace rally,” Chloe answered softly, blissfully unaware of the effect her words would have. Even Morgan was wincing as he sat down.

  Dean set his newspaper down with a rustle, giving our guest his undivided attention. “A what?”

  “Teens for Peace,” she repeated, talking in his direction even though she never met his eyes. “It's a group at school. We believe that the world would be better if we were a
peaceful nation.”

  “I see.” Dean's playful tone from only minutes ago had vanished as though it had never existed. “And why should we be a peaceful nation? If you believe in peace, wouldn't you believe that every country should be peaceful?”

  Chloe looked up this time. “Yes, sir, eventually. But our primary focus is the United States because for one thing, this is where we live. For another though, since the U.S. starts most of the wars in the world—”

  “Excuse me?” His voice never increased even half a decibel, but I knew that his calm tone meant that he was anything but.

  “Well, maybe not starts, but our country tends to jump in unasked.”

  “Young lady, I don't know what you know about war, what any kid your age knows about war, but I can tell you that it's the hard decision. Peace—”

  “Dad,” Morgan tried to interject.

  “No, you know what? I've put up with this long enough. I can't have my own son disrespecting the Army and what it stands for, much less guests in my own house.”

  Chloe flushed bright red. It made my stomach twist to see it. “I'm sorry, Mr. Davies. I didn't mean to upset you, I just thought you wanted to know.”

  “I don't want you spouting your beliefs when they're so disrespectful to our country, young lady,” he practically barked. “Especially when they're so unfounded.”

  “I'm sorry,” she replied softly. I was as shocked as anyone else at the table when she raised her eyes and met Dean's glare head-on. “But these are my beliefs, and I'm not going to hide them no matter whose house I'm in. In fact, I welcome the opportunity to share them with others. That's the only way that real change happens, by changing hearts.”

  Dean looked about ready to explode. “That's just fine. Can we eat now?”

  That should have been it. I prayed that it was. After all, he hadn’t yelled at her, which I’d expected, or thrown her out, which I’d feared. They should have both let it go, but that wasn’t what happened.