by B. N. Toler
“Sure,” I lied as the nurse helped me stand long enough to move me to a wheel chair.
While they processed my discharge papers, I called anyone I knew that might be able to help. I didn’t have many friends that I was close to; school and motherhood dominating my life had kept me from seeing my friends regularly, and the few I had kept in contact with as often as I could, all had busy lives as well.
Handing me a script for pain meds, the doctor patted my shoulder. “These meds should keep you comfortable, but they will make you sleepy, so you’ll definitely need help with your child. Make sure you call and set up a follow-up appointment.”
“Thanks,” I muttered as I shoved the papers in my purse. I didn’t mean to be rude to him, but I was in pain on top of choking with worry about how I would manage taking care of Pim. Miss Patty could watch her during the day, but I’d still need help getting her ready in the mornings and figure out a way to get her there. Not to mention picking her up in the evenings and getting through the nightly routine.
Handing me my crutches, I held them as best I could as the kind nurse navigated my wheelchair gingerly, careful not to bump my extended leg on anything, through the bustling hospital halls onto the elevator. As we reached the first floor, she asked, “Will someone be picking you up?”
Tears stung my eyes as I searched for an answer. There was no one to pick me up. The only two people I could count on to help me with Pim were halfway across the world. There was no way I could call them and ruin their trip; I’d hate myself for it. Who else could I call?
“Are you okay, hon?” the nurse asked.
Clearing my throat, I rasped, “Yes. Sorry. It’s been a long day. I’ll be taking a cab home.”
She pushed me into the lobby, and we’d almost reached the doors when I saw them—Max and Helen. What in the hell were they doing here?
“Can you stop for a moment please?” I mumbled to the nurse, raising my hand slightly to make sure I got her attention.
As the wheelchair came to an abrupt stop, I stared as Max stood with his arms crossed, staring down at Helen while she spoke. Something was so different about him, but I couldn’t put my finger on it. Even the way he stood seemed different . . . manlier if that even made sense. As I watched them, occasionally Helen wiped at her eyes with a balled-up tissue. Why was she crying? It wasn’t any of my business, but I wondered if everything was okay with her baby. Whatever suspicions I had about her, I couldn’t help my heart from squeezing at the thought that something might be wrong with her unborn child. It also didn’t keep my curiosity from rearing its head. If the baby wasn’t Max’s, why would he be here with her? Unless he’d lied, which was the most logical answer.
Just as that thought flitted through my mind and my hackles began to rise, Helen darted her gaze right at me, almost as if she’d felt me watching her.
“Shit,” I muttered to myself.
In under five seconds, she’d pointed me out to Max who had to do a double-take.
“We can go now,” I told the nurse. She pushed me gently, but we’d only made it a few feet before Max and Helen reached us.
“What happened?” Max inquired as he stood in front of my wheelchair, forcing us to stop. Dressed down again in a simple gray T-shirt and jeans, he once again looked completely unlike himself.
“I sprained my ankle,” I answered dryly, pushing some of my loose bangs behind my ear. “Had a little accident this morning.”
“Oh my goodness,” Helen gasped, genuine concern strewn across her features. “Is Pimberly okay?”
Nodding my head, I realized they must think I meant a car accident. “Yes,” I assured her. “She’s fine. I fell at the sitter’s house. I was holding her, but she wasn’t hurt . . . just a little scared.”
Turning from me, Max looked around. “Who has her now?”
“She’s still with the sitter.”
“Who’s picking you up?”
“No one,” I admitted irritably. Having to tell Max and Helen I had no one to help me was humiliating. “So if you’ll excuse me, I have to get a taxi and pick up Pimberly. Nice seeing you again, Helen,” I mumbled without sincerity.
Max didn’t move out of the way. He and Helen gave each other a look like they were having a conversation with their eyes. “You can’t take care of her by yourself with your ankle like that,” Max noted.
“I’ll figure it out, Max,” I snapped. “Now please move.”
“Let me help,” Max demanded, his tone gentle but firm.
We stared at one another, neither of us saying a word. The bustling of people around us didn’t seem to deter him. “I’ve managed without your help for a long time, Max. I don’t need it now,” I lashed out. Whipping the crutches around, I tried to stand, but the wheelchair had my leg sticking out. My face heated with embarrassment as I grunted awkwardly trying to get up.
“Waverly,” Helen said my name softly as she placed a gentle hand on my shoulder, stopping me. “Please let us help you. I’ve been a single mother before. I know what it’s like to be hurt or sick and need help. It’s okay to need help, ya know?”
My stare dropped to my leg, my chest seizing as a memory barreled through my mind.
After Max left the apartment the evening I’d told him I was pregnant, I’d paced the floors all night, praying he’d calm down and regret his reaction. I’d hoped with some time he’d realize what a gift it was, but that didn’t happen. Instead, he texted me the next morning, just as he’d said he would. He’d done it. He’d made an appointment for me to have an abortion.
The word devastated didn’t even come close to how I felt.
Packing a bag, I left and went to Matt’s. I lied and told him Max was out of town and I didn’t like staying at the apartment by myself. Max texted me that afternoon, hours after the appointment had been scheduled.
How’d the appointment go? I stopped by the apartment, but you weren’t home. Where are you?
He thought I went through with it.
I didn’t respond.
Maybe it was the hormones from pregnancy. Or maybe, as much as I hate to admit it, I was a pathetic woman convinced I could change him. I don’t know, but somewhere in my warped brain, I convinced myself Max would change his mind about it; that he would want our child. My first move in helping him come to this conclusion was to give him time and space. Though his words had cut like a knife, I could understand how having a baby so soon might have panicked him. We had only been married a few months, and our courtship had been short. So much had happened so fast, maybe he felt overwhelmed. Space—I’d give him space. He just needed time to wrap his head around the idea.
I hid out at my brother’s house for a week. I had to contact all of my professors and feign stomach flu so I could miss classes and do my work from home. Other than the text he’d sent after the appointment he’d scheduled, Max didn’t attempt to contact me again.
Hurt.
Unadulterated raging hurt.
I felt like I was suffocating in it.
Finally, unable to stand it anymore, I went home to our apartment, hoping that night we could sit down and try to discuss it again. I wanted to understand his feelings; why didn’t he want our child? Was he scared? Did he think he’d be a bad father? What was it? Maybe he just needed some reassuring.
I was worried but determined. We would work this out. I would not let us fail. With a heavy sigh, I inserted my key into the lock, preparing myself for the discussion ahead.
It didn’t work.
He’d had the locks changed.
Numbness washed over me as I felt the blood drain from my face. Sliding down the door, I melted into a heap as tears streamed down my cheeks. Pulling out my cell, I called him.
“Waverly,” he answered.
“Hi,” I croaked. “I’m trying to get into the apartment, but my key isn’t working.”
“That’s because the locks have been changed. You won’t be living there anymore.”
“Max,” I breathed, my he
art sinking. “Why are you doing this?”
“You didn’t go to the appointment.”
“No, I didn’t,” I agreed, swiping the tears from my warm cheeks. “I couldn’t, Max.”
“Then you made your choice. The front desk has an envelope for you. It has the location and key to the storage unit where I had all your stuff sent. My lawyer is working on an annulment. I don’t want to see or hear from you again.”
Then he hung up.
I must have sat there for hours, numb and clueless. How did this happen? I knew Max was selfish to a degree. I knew he could be insensitive, but this . . . was this who he was? Had I been blind?
In the following months, I reached out to him thousands of times. I sent him sonogram photos and texts and emails. He never replied. He never lifted a finger to help.
And now he wanted to be a hero; be a father?
Helen couldn’t know how cruel Max had been to me so maybe she couldn’t understand my reservations. “He’s never bothered to help before.” I glared at her. “So why now, Helen, huh? Why should I accept his help now?” How dare she tell me to accept help from Max. Could she even comprehend what a selfish asshole he was—how terrible he’d been to Pimberly and me? If she was anything like me when I first met Max, she was stupid and blind. I’d thought he was amazing, too. Apparently, she was under the same illusion.
“Maybe . . .” she looked up at Max, then back at me, “maybe Max is a different person now.”
I snorted, almost choking on the knot in my throat. Before I knew it, I was grinning, the idea that Max was now, after a lifetime of being a jerk, suddenly a good person. That he was a different person. Was this lady for real?
Max held his hands up in surrender, clearly frustrated. Kneeling, he met my line of sight. “I’m not going to sit here and beg you. If you don’t want to stay with me, let me at least keep Pimberly until you’re up and running again.”
“Absolutely not,” I sneered as I jerked forward. “I’m not leaving my daughter alone with you for days.”
“You need help,” he pointed at me before pointing at himself, “I’m offering. I understand in the past, I haven’t been there for you, and I can’t promise I always will be, but I’m here now, Waverly.” Standing up straight again, he dragged a wide palm down his face, attempting to calm himself.
Letting out a defeated breath, I turned my head from them, fighting tears. Helen was right. It is freaking hard to be a single parent. I’d been lucky to have Matt to help me with so much, but even with his help, there were days that I struggled.
“You guys can come stay at my apartment,” Max offered. “You two can have my bedroom, and I’ll crash on the couch.”
Lifting my chin, my lip trembled as a tear rolled down my cheek. I hated this. I hated this so damn much and yet, he was my only option for help until Matt and Alice got back. “Why are you doing this, Max?” I croaked.
Cutting his eyes to Helen before meeting mine again he answered, “Because it’s the right thing to do.”
Dropping my head, I sighed. I needed help. There was no way I could do everything Pimberly needed with my ankle hurt. Even though letting Max coming to my rescue was a huge blow to my pride and dignity, it was my only choice.
“Okay.” I nodded. Then I had to say something that nearly killed me to say to him. “Thank you.”
“I’ve got diapers, tons of clothes, a million toys, and her travel crib,” Helen announced as she dropped a bag near the pile of Pimberly’s belongings near the door. Max, with his hands on his hips, stared down at the pile, a bewildered look on his face as he scratched the back of his neck. “A tiny little girl really needs all this?”
“Yes,” Helen and I both answered in unison.
Letting out a heavy sigh, he picked up some of the bags to load into Helen’s car. “If you guys say so,” he mumbled as he heaved the load out the door.
Helen’s mouth quirked up. “Men,” she chuckled. “Now, do we have everything you need?”
“I think so,” I answered still thinking. “Oh, my toiletries, and will you grab the baby Tylenol and thermometer in the medicine cabinet, please? Upstairs bathroom, third door on the left.”
“I got it,” she chirped as she made her way upstairs.
“Thank you,” I yelled. I wasn’t sure what the deal with this lady was, but she was nice. Max and she both vehemently insisted there was absolutely no romantic connection between them and the baby she was carrying wasn’t Max’s. They weren’t related either. So, what was it? Friends? Really? Helen just didn’t seem like the kind of person Max would get close with. She seemed . . . well . . . like me. Middle-classish, normal, not a snob. It wasn’t a stretch to believe he’d be interested in her intimately, she was pretty, but I couldn’t see it outside of that. Whatever, I’d figure that out later.
Max entered again and stood, looking around. Jabbing a thumb toward the kitchen, he jested, “Should I bring the kitchen sink? The fridge?”
Rolling my eyes, I replied sardonically, “Ha, ha, ha.” Then my snarkiness poked her head out. “Not that you’d know this, Max, but babies require a lot of stuff.” It was a cheap stab, one I felt bad for taking, especially when Max let it roll right off his back.
Damn him for being the bigger person.
“You need any help, Hel?” he shouted as he took the first step on the staircase. Though he refused to acknowledge my smartass comment, I could tell he was desperate to get away from me in case I had any more to dish out.
“No, I got it!” Helen shouted back. “Be down in a minute.”
Just before Max stepped down, one of the frames on the wall caught his attention. Leaning in, he stared at it, squinting, before a big grin captured his features. “Damn,” he mumbled. “Pim looks just like you in this picture.”
The photo was of Matt and me; I was three, and he was seven. He was sitting on a hideous brown couch, and I was beside him, resting my head on his lap. “That’s Matt’s favorite. He always teases me about how my head was so big it covered most of his body.”
Max laughed; a deep, hearty, authentic laugh.
“My head was not that big,” I defended.
Max laughed louder, the sound somehow equally thrilling and terrifying to me all at once. I couldn’t remember a time I’d ever heard him laugh like that. Twisting his neck, so his gaze met mine, he gave a little shrug. “It is a little big.”
My mouth fell open as I glared at him. Was he telling me I had a big head? What an asshole.
“In the picture,” he quickly assured me, pointing at the frame where it hung. “Not now. Your head is adequately sized now. You must’ve grown into it.”
Snapping my mouth shut, my nails suddenly became interesting as I stared down at them, pressing my lips together to stop myself from laughing. When you resented someone the way I resented Max, you don’t laugh at their jokes—ever. It’s called consorting with the enemy. I was already going to be living with the man, I’d be damned if I’d laugh at his jokes, too. “Whatever.”
I didn’t look up to see if he had resumed examining the photo or if he was still staring at me until he added, “She does look like you, Waverly. She’s absolutely beautiful.”
When I lifted my head, I found he was watching me, his features serious. It was a true compliment, one of the nicest he’d ever given me. And I had no idea how to respond.
“Okay,” Helen sang as she traipsed down the stairs. “Unless there’s anything else you can think of, I think we’re all set.”
Clearing his throat, Max coughed a little, before taking the bag from Helen. “I’ll take this out to the car.” A second later he was out the door. I stared at him, unsure of what had just happened.
“You okay?” Helen inquired.
“Yeah,” I huffed, shaking my head to clear my thoughts. As I scooted to the edge of the couch to stand, she rushed over to help me up. “Guess we should get Pim.”
When she’d helped me to my feet, foot, and helped me arrange my crutches, I met h
er intense gaze. “I know this isn’t your first choice. I know you don’t trust Max, and you have every reason not to, but I hope you’ll really let us help . . . at least until you’re better or your brother gets back.”
What was she doing here? She seemed like a nice lady, and I hated to think Max had somehow duped her as he had done to me years ago. I wished someone would’ve warned me.
“I don’t know how well you know Max, but this isn’t him,” I stated bluntly. “Max doesn’t go out of his way for anyone, least of all me or Pimberly.”
“I can’t promise you this new Max is here to stay, but I can tell you it’s real . . . for however long it lasts . . . right now . . . it’s real.”
I didn’t understand what she meant, and my pain meds were kicking in, so I let it go. If the new Max only lasted long enough to get me through the next two weeks until Matt got back, then so be it. What happened after that, I couldn’t care less.
“I really wish you’d stay tonight,” I whined to Helen as I followed her to the elevator, moping behind her like a child holding his mother’s apron strings. What was I going to do with these two ladies staying with me for days to possibly weeks? I’d had a few serious girlfriends over the years that would spend a night here and there, but none that officially lived with me. What if I left the toilet seat up and one of them fell in? Outside of that, there was a far larger issue. The biggest problem would be trying to maintain my identity as Max in front of Waverly. She’d already mentioned several times how I wasn’t the same as I used to be. These were all things that were rolling through my mind as I’d stared at Waverly in the hospital lobby, offering her my help. I knew it was a bad idea, but what choice did I have? She needed me.
