I nod as I take the cup from her.
“Put it here when you’re through.” She motions to a plastic bin.
I give Kat a sharp look before heading into the restroom. When I come out I place the cup where she told me and follow Kat into the exam room.
“You’re a troublemaker, you know that?”
“I strive.” She hops up on the table and relaxes into the paper pillow.
“I hope they’ve multiplied and they find six in there,” I say. “You know, I couldn’t handle two of Eli. He was colic. Wouldn’t it be something if all six of your babies were colic?”
“You don’t like me, do you?” She winces as a small-framed woman pelts clear jelly onto her abdomen.
The frail looking tech starts poking around her belly with what amounts to a computer mouse while Kat and I struggle to see anything of relevance locked in the shadows up on the screen.
“I’m counting. There’s only three,” the technician says. She gives me a sharp look. “Healthy, though. I’d tell you the genders, but with three it’s tricky. You could count someone twice and mess up the roll call, so I don’t try anymore.”
“How about just tell me if I’ve got a boy and girl. I’ll figure out the logistics later.” Kat grasps onto my hand and squeezes as if I should be campaigning for this as well.
The tech winces as she stares into the screen. “This one’s a boy.”
“A boy!” My fingers fly to my lips. “A little buddy for Eli.”
The tech digs into Kat’s stomach so hard it actually depresses. God, I think she’s going to poke through with her wand. “And, you’ve got at least one other boy. Third one’s shy which is fine by me.”
“Another boy! Eli’s going to be in heaven!” I hop up and down with Kat’s unenthusiastic hand.
“Lee?” Tears stream down her face. “I don’t know boys.”
“Oh, stop. You know Eli.”
“What if I have three boys?” Clearly she’s petrified by the concept.
“Relax,” I say. “Boys are way easier than girls. They turn everything into a gun, even toast. Girls just scream.”
“Firearms? Are you telling me my children are going to be involved with firearms?”
Second thought, I’m not sure Kat being a mother to all boys is a very good idea.
“Maybe they’ll be pensive and studious,” I suggest. “We’ll take them to the library every day. By the time they’re three, it’ll be their natural habitat. Those kinds of places practically train them to be quiet little geniuses.” Unlikely, but I’ll go with it.
“I have three brothers,” the technician offers, wiping down Kat’s belly with a towel.
“And I bet they’re fine—doctors, or lawyers, or something,” I offer.
“Two are in prison, and one is homeless somewhere in L.A.”
I stare at her blankly as she gathers her stuff and heads out of the room. Kat’s face bleaches out like she just saw the ghost of the triplets’ future.
“She’s a breath of fresh air.” I help Kat down as she adjusts her dress, and we make our way back into the hall.
“I’ve got your results,” Lani says, walking past us. “Congratulations. It’s positive!”
“Well!” Kat’s whole affect brightens. In fact, she looks downright vibrant. “I feel better about my budding little convicts now that I know you’ve confused the paternity of your precious angel.” She pats my stomach with a beaming smile.
“I can’t believe you. How can you joke about something like this?” Actually I can believe her, and, oddly, she’s somehow managed to take the edge off my new predicament.
“Relax. Mitch and Max love you. They love Stella and Eli. This baby isn’t going to change any of that. You can still choose Mitch or Max—Mix and Match. You can have a Monday, Wednesday, Friday—Tuesday, Thursday, weekends arrangement.” She winks.
“It’s illegal to ‘mix and match,’ Kat.” I glance out the window and watch as a bird dives off the roof of an adjacent building only to soar straight up again. I wonder when I’ll start to soar again. Or will it be one long nosedive that leads to disaster. Feels like the latter. “If you can have three babies, why can’t I have two husbands?” It comes out more of a spin on polygamy than I bargained for.
“You’ve lost your mind, Lee, nobody wants two husbands. One alone has the power to bring the misery of thousands.”
I’ve compounded my misery with my spousal surplus—me and my husbands to the second power. I hate these cruel mathematics. I’ll keep the baby low key until after I figure out how to shoot one of them through the heart. Still don’t think I can do it. Where’s God? I look out the window as though I might actually find him.
“I think this baby belongs to Max.”
In a strange way I think I do, too.
Corporate worship. That’s what they call church these days. Sounds like fiscal records should be discussed—the budget—least of all the gospel. Mitch has been asked to speak today. I scoot into Max who oddly takes up my hand then drops it repeatedly as if it wades in and out of his mind that I have the plague.
“You can hold my hand,” I whisper. “It’s okay.”
He picks it up again before redirecting his gaze back to the pulpit. The pastor introduces Mitch. He briefs the congregation in on the fact he left on a business trip, became a prisoner, and never wavered in his faith.
Mitch looks angelic. The light shines over him, and he glows. He lets out a supernatural smile before stepping up to the podium.
“I’m so glad I can be here today—be anywhere.” His cheeks pick up a bright pink hue as he looks to the floor. “I want to share with you the story of how I came to be that prisoner, how I got here today, but first I want you to know I don’t feel like a victim. I feel very much like there was and is a purpose being worked out for good—that even though I lost a tremendous amount of time with my family, I cling to the fact it was meant to be. Just before I was captured I asked God to please let me see my beautiful wife one more time—to let me hold her.” He swallows hard. “That’s one prayer I’m glad he answered.” Mitch segues into his story, starting with the day he left. How he looked at me with an enormous feeling in the pit of his stomach that something was about to go wrong.
It’s so hard to listen. Painful. I squeeze Max so hard, it’s like labor all over again. All of this un-anaesthetized heartache stings like hell, leaving my soul in dust and ashes.
He details the beatings and for the first time I learn of the torture devices used to break him, to convey facts that were never his to begin with. Mitch was never a spy. He goes on to share the hallucinations he had of me, of his secret life with our nameless, faceless child. My effigy was always the trigger, always the release for a bottomless well of tears. He shares a beautiful story of paper roses. God’s love notes, and his, all rolled into one.
Mitch wipes his eyes with the back of his hand as he brings it to a close. “I’m back, though. It’s been a bumpy ride, but I made it. I’m not sure if I accomplished what he wanted me to. Perhaps I’ll never know. I had two choices when I was going through it. To rely on the unpredictable cloud to govern my every move or build a golden calf in the desert—trust in government, man, myself. I chose the former. And, as confusing as my life’s been ever since I’ve come back, I still trust the unpredictable cloud. God is sovereign. I only need to learn that lesson once. Thank you.”
There’s a mild applause.
I’m in awe of Mitch—his bravery. Just knowing that the light that kept his sanity focused on the future was me—our family, makes me feel smaller than a flea. Mitch takes a seat on the other side of me and feels for my hand. He doesn’t let go, and neither do I. Max shifts in his seat. It’s all uncomfortable. If there were, or is, a purpose in all this, it makes no sense whatsoever. The tears I’ve shed over the last several years—weeks could fill fountains. I feel dizzy trying to decipher the code from this wordless cloud. I’m not picking up on any inner voice telling me when to pitch a tent�
��when to pull up the stakes. How exactly is anyone going to stop me from melting all of my resolve and forming it into some tangible, useless replica of my indecisive heart? I’m afraid I’ve already unwittingly fashioned the heifer. I can say I want Mitch, but I want Max just as much. I want to press them together until they form one person—and then I want to love them in that strange deformed way.
I stare with open anger at the monolithic cross before me.
I need a savior and soon.
Mitch
Mom and Colton take me to lunch after. It feels strange not having Lee with us. Not because she’s been right by my side ever since I’ve come back as my loving, supportive wife, it’s just that this was a big deal, and Lee and I have always shared our big deals together. I rattle the ice in my glass as I look at the ocean. I miss her. Old Lee—the Mitch and Lee version. I can’t wait for this thirty-day standoff to come to an end.
“Hekili!” Colton jumps up and pulls out a chair for his girlfriend. I told him any woman with the reference to he and kill in her name was one to steer clear of. Another girl appears at her side, and I scoot over making room for one extra seat. Colton introduces her as Hana. They’re both tall, dark and gorgeous, but I couldn’t care less.
I tune out the conversation at regular intervals, consuming the interim with obsessive thoughts of Lee. My mind wanders aimlessly, wanting to get lost in the pressing details; what’s she doing, wearing, eating, with or without whom? All of these things I want to know. I’m not really interested in the temperature difference between the California coast and the South Pacific. I feign a polite smile every now and again and wish to God I could transport myself anywhere but here—hell, I’d take China right about now. Sometimes I wonder if I ever really left.
I pull out my phone and text Max. Ask him where he is. I want an accounting of somebody for something, or I’m going to go insane.
A minute later my phone vibrates. Townsend fields. Pipe burst. You’re fired.
Max. He’s the one they called. I told the field manager not to bother him anymore, that I was in charge. I can see how far that went.
“What’s wrong?” My mother extends her hand over mine.
“Pipe burst. Max is on it.”
“Thank God for Max.” She raises her glass as if she’s toasting him. “Just enjoy your lunch. He’ll take care of everything.”
Colton and his girlfriends break out in a fit of laughter. Probably over something moronic he said, like I’m going to sleep with you both before nightfall. And I’m betting he will.
“Yeah, thank God for Max.” I let out a breath. I’m so damn tired of everyone worshiping at the altar of Max Shepherd. With both Lee and Mom he can do no wrong—and I can add Stella to the worship team.
“Max cares about you, too,” she offers.
“Really?” I’m amused by how this might work.
“Really.” She leans in. “We had a nice heart to heart the other day when he came by to pick up the kids.”
The thought of my mother having a heart to heart with Max guts me on some level. “So what’d you find when he ripped open his chest? Maggots? Narcotic tissue?”
“Stop. Max has a heart of gold. He loves Townsend like it was his own. Did you know he took out a second on Shepherd to keep it afloat for the first six months? He wasn’t with Lee back then. I asked him the other day why he did it, and he said he did it for you, Mitch. He said your friendship meant the world to him, and he knew he could never tell you that again, so he stepped in and cared for you the only way he could.”
Somehow I doubt Max said I meant the world to him. I wouldn’t put it past my mother to sprinkle this conversation with her own special brand of euphemisms.
“Well, Max means the world to me, too,” I say it mostly to get a rise out of Mom. She swats me with her napkin, and I give a lazy smile.
“You should make things right with him. Stella adores him, you know.” She leaves out the fact he’s her legal guardian, and although we’re genetically bonded, I have about as much authority over her as the postman.
“I’m trying,” I whisper. “Its taking Herculean efforts, but I’m trying.”
“As long as you’re trying, I’m satisfied with that. I could never accomplish that with Sheila. Lord knows I wanted to, but you’re a better person than I am, Mitch.”
Doubt it.
Max and I decide to take the kids bowling. It’s dark out, and Lee looks exhausted, but insists she’s going to Kat’s to watch a movie. I want to reach out to her, take her for a nice long walk on the beach, but it goes against the principle of leave-Lee-the-hell-alone month, so I resist the effort.
At the Mono Bowl O’ Drome, Stella chooses a bright pink ball, and Eli gravitates toward the one with painted flames carefully protected by a square of glass—a gift to the establishment signed by a bevy of pro bowlers. A major meltdown ensues once Eli realizes the ball isn’t landing in his hands, and Max stays behind to deal with it. Eli’s next choice is the bright pink ball that Stella is busy cradling like an infant.
“Get your own,” she barks.
“Stella,” I say it soft, pleading with her on a subliminal level. “It’s not a big deal. You can share.”
“It is a big deal.” She looks at me wild-eyed. “Sometimes I don’t want to share. You shouldn’t have to share everything, and bowling balls are one of them.”
I want to add, a wife, too, but don’t.
“Enough.” Max plucks Eli off her. “You’re sharing.” He points hard at her. “It’s done. Let’s play.”
Stella frowns into Max before getting distracted by seeing her name on the board.
I like how Max handles the kids, how he treats Stella as though she were his own. Who am I kidding? She is his own.
“Nice,” I say. We watch Stella help Eli waddle down the alley and roll the ball between his legs.
“Yeah, well, you have to be firm. You’ll catch on.”
“I plan to.”
“You should come with me in the morning and meet their teachers. They love—” He stops midsentence as he looks past me. “Crap.”
I turn around to find Viv—Max’s first ex-wife staring me in the face.
“I heard you were back.” Her dark hair slips just past her jawline as she smiles at me. There’s an evil beauty about her. That wicked gleam in her eye lets me know she’s not above digesting a man for breakfast. “So, glad you’re still in one piece. Look at you! Still the best looking guy in Mono.” She cuts a look to Max to see if he’s enjoying the dig. “You haven’t changed one bit, Mitch.”
“Neither have you,” I say, looking from her to Max.
“So, Max, you ready to relinquish what’s his?” She bares a halfhearted smile. “I’m still single, you know.”
“And I know why.” He doesn’t twitch a smile.
“Oh, come on.” She steps in and runs her finger along his cheek. “You can’t tell me you don’t think about me.”
“Every now and again, in my nightmares.”
“Sweet.” She presses out a dull smile before returning her attention to me. “Rumor has it, you guys are all shacking up together. How does that work? Let me guess, she’s got you on a schedule. Every other night—something like that?”
Stella runs up and hugs my legs.
“Hey beautiful!” Viv kneels down beside her. “Is it daddy’s night out? Where’s your mommy?”
“She’s tired.” She turns to Max. “Daddy it’s your turn.”
“You take it, sweetie.” He directs her back toward the pins.
Viv stretches out. “I bet she’s tired. If Lee needs backup, tell her to give me a call.” She waves her fingers in the air as she struts on by.
I shake my head at him. “And which of her many redeemable qualities demanded you make her your bride?”
“You heard her, she’s single.” Max cuts his eyes across the way to make sure she’s gone. “Why don’t you find out for yourself.”
“I’ll pass. Lee is making her dec
ision soon.” A part of me wants to warn him that he’s not the one she’ll choose—spare him of a broken heart.
“I know.” He looks down at his shoes as though he’s resolved to whatever the answer might be.
For the first time since coming home, I realize that Max cares about Lee as much as I do. I didn’t think it was possible, but the glint of pain in his eyes says it is.
Max
Another seven days stab by, and we’re staring down the barrel of our final Lee-free week. Arduous, is a good way to describe this last month. We get to see Dr. V again once the reprieve is over. Him, I don’t miss.
I head over to Archie’s, a bar slash archery range, and meet up with Hudson. It was Hudson’s idea, and that’s never a good sign.
A bevy of waitresses run around in bikini tops, serving up beer at this ripe hour of the day. A short blonde winks at me as she heads in this direction with her nipples poking through like hat pegs.
It feels like I’m cheating on Lee just being here.
I slap Hudson on the back and pull up a seat next to him.
“TS spelled backward is shit,” he says, holding out his hand for me to shake it. “What’s going on?”
“Stocks tanked.” I smack his hand away. “There’s an investors meeting in the morning. I’m here to make sure you don’t make a rare appearance.” It’s the nicest way I could think to keep him the hell away. I know he gets the company memos, so there’s always the off chance he’d stroll in and hang me by the balls with his presence.
“Nope—can’t make it. Got to take Candi to the doctor.”
“Well, aren’t you the devoted father-to-be. You ever hear from Jackie?” If I had a son somewhere out there in the world, I sure as hell wouldn’t disconnect just because his mother moved.
“She’s gone. I don’t even try anymore.”
“One day a kid is going to walk up and kick you in the ‘nads. That’ll be Joshua.”
“She took him.” He twists the amber bottle in his hand. “It’s basically a kidnapping.” He lets out a belch that scorches my eardrums. “You’ll see. Once Lee and Mitch hook up again, they’ll have to sell the land. The next thing you know, they’ll want to move out of state.” He takes a long swig. “Shit happens.”
The Solitude of Passion Page 31
