A Pact For Life

by Elliot, Graham

  Cale wanted to be back in Jack's room where the only sound came from the TV. Diana's shy, quiet little brother barely said a word all night, but this was normal behavior. In a house where the chromosomes were labeled x and Y!!!, Jack had grown into the tiniest, sixteen year old x.

  In a rare moment of praise for another person, Popa said, “I remember reading your father when he covered Reagan. Now that was a straight shooter. He never beat around the bush.”

  Uncle Vick joked, “Depends what Bush it was.”

  The front door opened, and Diana’s younger sister Caitlyn walked in. With bleached blond hair, silicone, botox, collagen, and a new nose, Caitlyn’s last name may have been Young, but she looked nothing like it. She was a hairdresser in a shop somewhere between chic and trashy on the spectrum of salons. Think neon pink and zebra print furniture, but made of a very fine quality fabric. In fact, that furniture image is a good description for Caitlyn.

  “I was hoping to miss the political talk.” Caitlyn said as she held the door open for a man littered with diamonds and clothing that coordinated in color all the way down to his shoelaces. “Everyone this is Jimmy. Jimmy, this is my mom Terri, dad Benjamin, Brother Jack, Uncle Vick, Popa, my older sister Diana, and… Cale!? What are you doing here? Jimmy, this is my sister’s… what are you guys right now?”

  “We're dating,” Diana answered, choosing to leave out the word, ‘again’.

  Uncle Vick had something to say about that. “That’s the way to do it. Take your time and really figure things out. Marriage is a costly decision. Thank God I avoided that bullet. If you rush into it, you're probably gonna spend money on bullshit like lawyers.”

  “Excuse me?” Diana and Caitlyn said together. For Diana, she didn’t appreciate the insinuation that her work was trivial. While Caitlyn on the other hand was insulted for very different, yet far more personal reasons.

  Surprisingly, it was the Caitlyn’s date in diamonds, Jimmy, who unknowingly stirred the pot. “Nah, he is right, babe. Rushing into marriage is just terrible.”

  Most of the table started to laugh at the mistake Jimmy made by speaking his mind.

  “You never told him?” Uncle Vick asked.

  Caitlyn answered, “This is only our second date. I was going to tell him tonight.”

  By now Jimmy’s mind was running wild with everything from Caitlyn having a child to Caitlyn formerly being a guy. Nothing was off limits. Terri was the one who informed him. “Jimmy, Caitlyn's been divorced twice.”

  Terri could’ve said Caitlyn had been married twice and it would have sounded somewhat better. Maybe she was just a widow rather than a divorcee?14 But then again, as bad as it is to admit that you are a divorcee several times over, it’s infinitely worse to be a multiple widower. Usually criminal charges accompany those people.

  Forget about throwing fuel to the fire, Uncle Vick decided to induce fission from uranium.15 “That first one was the biggest mistake. Didn't we give it 100:1 odds it wouldn't work out?”

  As Caitlyn, Uncle Vick, Terri, and Popa yelled at each other, Cale glanced over at Diana who was explaining to her father about how right she was about the felons being bussed in from other cities. His child would be a part of this family? They would grow up learning about how minorities are ruining the world, or how silicone, botox, and a rushed marriage will solve any problem? He needed all the yelling to stop. Interrupting Diana's conversation with her father, he whispered, “Tell them the news.”

  “What?”

  “Our news. Tell them.”

  Diana turned, looked at her father's smiling face, and tried to soak it in as best she could. She had planned on making the announcement when she had everyone's attention, but now that seemed to lack the necessary gravitas for a screaming table. So instead of an orchestrated presentation, she chose an orchestra’s volume.

  “I'm pregnant!”

  The yelling stopped immediately and there was a split second of silence where everyone had to process what was announced. Terri broke the silence. “Ahhhhh! Ben! A grandchild!”

  Diana turned to her dad and was surprised at how proud he looked. He reached over, gave her a hug, and whispered, “I guess we should look into getting three Rockies tickets now.”

  Just like at her firm's basketball night, the announcement turned the night's focus squarely on Diana, and so she brought everyone up to speed on her current status.

  The Diana Young Pregnancy Update

  Estimated weeks till delivery: 33

  Shape of stomach: Slightly convex from a full stomach, causing her obliques/lower waist v muscles to become more pronounced. Actually it was pretty attractive.

  Food Craving: Nothing at all.

  Mood: Relieved and enjoying the spotlight.

  As Diana started to go over the details of the pregnancy, Cale got up and walked to the kitchen in desperate need for another drink. He stood in front of the refrigerator waiting for ice to fill his cocktail glass when Benjamin Young came up from behind and said, “Congratulations Cale. So are you excited about being a father?”

  “I think I went straight for the fear stage. How much longer till I reach acceptance?”

  Again, there was a true, meaningful, cardigan laugh. “I'm afraid the fear stage lasts until you stop paying for them. Have you told your father yet?”

  “Yep, last weekend when he was in town. You know, it was important to tell him in person.”

  “Was he excited?”

  Cale looked over at Terri crying on the phone to some distant relative and said, “Oh yeah, he was as thrilled as Terri. We both were.”

  IT’S NOT A CHEMICAL IMBALANCE IF THE SCALE WAS ORIGINALLY BROKEN

  It was a gray, icy morning made all the worse by the gusts of wind sweeping through the skyscrapers of downtown Denver. Outside the conference room where Diana was meeting with Andrew, a row of icicles hung.

  “And we received this request of distribution from your ex-wife's lawyers. I'm sorry to put this so bluntly, but,” Diana slid a stack of papers across the table. “She certainly is greedy.”

  The papers were loaded with lines that began, Kristen Felts-Finnegan requests ______. As Andrew read what he was being asked to give up, Diana reassured him. “Now these are only their requests, and will likely change when everything is said and done.”

  “I hope so. They are asking for more assets than I own.”

  “I've been handling high wealth divorces for almost eight years now, and I've never seen such absurd demands. I don't mean to be unprofessional, but when I first read this, I thought about photocopying my middle finger on our letterhead and mailing it back as our reply.”

  Andrew laughed and said, “Go for it. What's the worst they'll do? Request everything you own as well?”

  “Didn't you see? They already demanded my possessions somewhere between pages thirty and thirty-five.”

  “Ah, so it's somewhere between her wanting my organs and my eternal soul?” Andrew chuckled and stuck the papers in his fancy, black leather briefcase. “So what's next?”

  “Well, I already sent a somewhat polite letter back to Kristen's lawyers earlier this morning.”

  “Somewhat polite?”

  “No expletives or threats of bodily harm,” Diana responded. Where were these replies coming from? She always acted two notches above professional with her clients. If this linear progression continued, she'd be suggesting nothing less than a double murder in roughly fifteen minutes.

  Andrew leaned back in his chair and said, “You seem different since our last meeting.”

  “I do?” Diana felt her face grow warm.

  “I guess I didn't notice how funny you are the last time we met. It feels like I'm talking to one of my close friends.”

  Andrew's compliment brought the redness in her face to fruition. It was ripe for the picking, or at least Andrew hoped as he said, “Diana, stop me if I'm overstepping some sort of client/lawyer line here, but would you want to go out and get a drink some night? I'm not on call Fri
day if you're interested.”

  This was one of those situations that only happens to people who are rarely in relationships. When you're single, no one seems interested, but the second you start seeing someone, it starts this stampede of suitors.

  Diana fought against all her urges to lie when she said, “Actually Andrew, I'm pregnant.”

  “Oh... oh, congratulations! That's excellent!”

  Diana looked down at her ringless finger and said, “Thanks. I'm still dating the father. It's a long story.”

  “I'm sure with all of the bad divorces you've seen, there is no rush to get married. It's good to hear you're able to maintain a healthy relationship with all the time you spend here. That's been a challenge for me ever since med school.”

  “I know exactly what you mean!” Diana shouted in excitement that someone could finally relate to her college life. “Relationships always felt like a more time consuming job than actually working. I can't even begin to guess how many boyfriends I lost while I was studying for the bar.”

  Andrew asked, “Did you ever get the ultimatum from them? If you chose one more late night at work instead of seeing them, then they would leave? I caved in the first time at this demand and wound up behind on my reports. After that I never caved again.”

  “That happened to me too! I wound up getting a C on some common law class and that was it for him.”

  They both said at the same time. “It's so interest...”

  “Sorry, go ahead,” Andrew said.

  “No, you.”

  Andrew smiled and said, “I was just going to say it's interesting to meet someone who knows what I've gone through. I thought marrying a nurse would solve my problems since we worked together. Turns out the other doctor's warnings were right. Never marry a nurse.”

  Andrew stood up and towered over the table. “Well, I should be going. Let me know when the new request comes in. It was good talking to you.” He shook Diana's hand and walked away. At the door, he turned back and lifted a finger like he had something else to say, but put it back down, gave a little wave, and left.

  Later, Diana was back in her office with a smile that could penetrate the walls. It screamed, 'Notice me!' to anyone who walked by, but Jenny was the only one who passed.

  “What's with the smile?”

  “Today's been good, that's all.” Diana's phone beeped and she knew exactly what it meant. “Ah, dammit, I gotta get over to that Dr. Lincoln's office, and take some Chromosomething test. I swear I go to this doctor's office every week.”

  “Wait, how did it go with Andrew?”

  “He asked me out.”

  “What!?”

  “I know, I know, good timing right? I had to tell him everything. ”

  “I suppose it was good you told him.”

  Diana looked down at her ringless finger again and asked, “Would it be inappropriate if I proposed to Cale?”

  It was a Wednesday night at Full Steam Ahead, and the coffee shop was empty except a corner table with its usual three occupants.

  Brian plopped a black backpack down on the table and announced, “Pharmaceutical Wednesday fellows. So what will it be?”

  Inside Brian's backpack was every controlled substance known to man. He had drugs that could make a person feel like they were traveling through space, time, or most importantly, mind. Pharmaceutical Wednesday. The name pretty much says it all. Over the years, it had become a weekly tradition for the three men to ingest a pill or two and fly to the stars.

  Nick immediately said, “Adderall,” and was slid a small blue pill.

  Brian was next. “I'm going with Vicodin tonight. Right now, all I wanna do is just sit back and melt away.”

  Cale was unsure what he wanted to take. His mind wasn't focused on pills, but rather the inevitable mess the baby would bring to all their lives. He wasn't the type of person who should be a father, and Diana certainly wasn't motherly. What chance did their child have of having a happy, healthy life?

  “If you're not going to decide, then I'll pick for you.” Brian said as he produced a large white pill. “Here, take an Ativan. Fair warning though, you probably want to snap this in half. This is two milligrams which will make your head feel like a bag of popcorn in mid-pop.”

  With all the issues swirling around in his head, there wasn't a chance in hell he was breaking that pill up. He needed escape. So with the Ativan in hand, Cale breathed deep and hoped for the best.

  There was a drink, swallow, and that was that. Two milligrams of CHClNO were working their way into Cale's bloodstream all to fire up a few neurons that would hopefully make him feel better.

  As they waited for the drugs to take effect, Nick asked Cale, “So I suppose Pharmaceutical Wednesday will be over for you after the baby is born?”

  On top of all of the other sacrifices Cale had thought about over the past week, getting high had slipped his mind. He added it to the ever growing mental list which included other girls, late nights, offensive music and movies, swearing, spontaneous travels, adventures, sleeping in, spending freely without need for saving, and uninterrupted night’s sleep.

  After twenty minutes, several jolts tickled the inside of his head. They didn’t make him think any differently, but at least there was evidence the drugs were working.

  He picked up a copy of the New York Times headlining dire economic forecasts, updates on multiple wars, corruption in the senate, an earthquake in California, and a hurricane in Florida. Finishing the last front page article, he said, “The world really is a shitty place.”

  Brian took a sip of his coffee and slid back in his chair. Slowly, he joked, “Look at the back page if you really want bad news.”

  Cale flipped the paper over and there it was staring him down. The New York Times' wedding announcements. A beacon for all of the over-achieving, wildly successful, crop creamers who want to show the world that yes, not only are they more successful than everyone else, but according to the pictures where they're locked in each other’s embrace, more happy and more in love.

  More jolts and shocks were going off inside Cale's head, they were urging him to speak his mind and confide all of his doubts, worries, and fears to his friends. “Do you guys think Diana is going to be a good mother?”

  Nick said nothing while Brian chortled, shook his head ‘no,’ and became one with his chair.

  Cale pulled out his cell phone and said, “Yeah, I think so, too. Look at this text she sent on a flight a few weeks ago.”

  Letting kids onto planes was one of the worst ideas ever. On flights, I wear headphones and read. When people see me on a plane, they pray I sit next to them.

  Reaching the amphetamine high where he could multitask with ease, Nick said from behind the screen of his laptop, “Isn't it dangerous to use your phone on a plane?”

  Brian swallowed some coffee and came alive once again, “That's bullshit. Think about the rays that float around the atmosphere? Radio, TV, UV, X, gamma...manta. With all of that going on, do you really think an iPhone is going to bring down a jet?”

  Nick typed something and began reading, “The major problems are that the mobile phones or other electronic devices may interfere with aircraft systems or computers due to poor or missing shielding and cause a catastrophic failure of the control mechanisms.”

  Brian waved it off. “More Wikipedia garbage. I tell you what Nick, if a 747 crashes because some girl decides to sext, then I owe you an apology.”

  “How about you never say sext again?”

  The two continued to debate as Cale stared out the window at snow slowly falling. He wanted to run out and get buried in it. Or at least suffocate enough to kill a few brain cells, leaving only a happy oblivion.

  Brian interrupted his brain cell killing fantasy with, “I'm worried about your parenting skills too, Cale. Schools start at what? 7 AM? When was the last time you were up that early? Was it even this decade? I don't want to offend, but have you guys looked into adoption?”

  Unknown to Di
ana, Cale had thought about adoption. It started out as a flash in the mind while he was having dinner with his father, but since then has morphed into something much larger. Now, with his head feeling like the skies over Washington DC on the 4th of July, adoption seemed to be the way to go.

  “I'll be right back,” Cale announced and stood up as the room took on a slant from his blood pressure, firings neurons, and damning realization. He walked back to Full Steam Ahead's office, sat down, opened up a notebook, and began to write:

  To my unborn child,

  I'm sure this will be the first of many apologies in this letter, but I want to start by saying I'm sorry for doing something as cliché as the unborn child letter. I promise I'm really not this lame, but I don't know any other way to tell you how I feel.

  There is this question that's been rattling around in this head of mine these past few weeks: Is it better for a child to grow up with unsuitable biological parents, or to be adopted by people who would put the child's happiness above all? Every time I think about this, the adoption answer wins.

  My father, your grandfather, the smoothest man you'll ever meet, always stressed the three basic human rights – life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness. Well I decided there needs to be one more added – a happy childhood. Life is not fair and the world can be a downright awful place, but that should not apply to children. Your world should be magical.

  Although your mother will never admit that she has a weakness, I can tell you that she cannot make time for others. She's determined to a fault and will stop at nothing to get the job done. I would say she is a perfectionist, but that wouldn't do her justice. This isn’t anything against her, it’s just the way she is, and it’s one of the reasons why she's so important to me.

  This wouldn't be such a problem if I had any confidence in my own ability as a father. Depending on how much you take after me, you know this doubt is justified. For me, self-destruction is something as entwined in my DNA as my hair color. I know I'll end up disappointing you, or even worse, hurting you, and there is nothing I can do to stop it.