by Eleanor Eden
He shook his head. “I don’t know.”
“What about – are you even going to be here for her?” I gestured at my belly. And in some misplaced response, my stomach growled and my eyes went to the plate on the end table. “Oh, you made cucumber and cream cheese,” I smiled at Money.”
He smiled back. “And chips and pickles!”
“Thank you.”
He booped my nose.
“How are you so awesome?”
“Good Lord”
I looked at Jay. “You should be grateful he cares for me – and your daughter – so much.”
Jay stood. “I am. I’m sorry. To be honest, the only way I can make myself leave at all is to leave you in each other’s hands. I know you’ll take care of each other.” He stuck his hands in his pockets and looked so momentarily forlorn that I felt my anger melt into something more – forgiving.
I sighed. “I’m sorry I got so angry. I know you’re in a tough position,” I said.
Money reached behind me for the plate, then put it on my lap. I took a big bite of the sandwich and picked up a pickle.
“I can see the two of you are joined in ways you and I could never be,” Jay said, his voice so low I could barely hear it over my chewing.
I raised a hand to my lips as I chewed.
“We love you, Jay,” Money said, and it was right.
I nodded.
Jay didn’t look at us. He walked to the archway.
I made haste to swallow, sitting forward on the couch. “Wait! You didn’t answer my question!”
Jay looked back. “I’ll try to be here when she’s born, but don’t count on it.”
I felt myself deflate even as I brought a chip to my mouth. It’s amazing what pregnancy hunger can do.
“Take pictures,” he said, then left, heading for the stairs.
I looked at Money. “Is he leaving now?”
He nodded, reaching for the other half of the sandwich, which I gladly gave up.
“I guess whatever this is – it’s serious.”
I frowned. “What? The balance? If it’s that, why aren’t we going, too?”
Money shrugged and talked around his food. “I figure they’re making a plan, you know? And of course, they don’t want you there; replenishing our numbers is the point, right?”
“And they need you to take care of me,” I grinned, then rested my head on his shoulder.
He continued eating. “Maybe. Maybe they think I’m useless, still.”
I poked him.
“Regardless, I’m where I want to be.”
I wrapped my arms around his waist. “Have you seen the nursery?”
He chuckled. “It’s ridiculous. You’d think you were birthing a king.”
“Maybe I am.”
“Do you want to see it?”
I pondered the question. “I don’t know. On the one hand, yeah, I want to see it! But on the other, it’s kind of sad, isn’t it?”
“A room in the place of a father.”
A lump rose in my throat. “How do you know what I want to say even when I don’t?”
He rested his chin on my head and I closed my eyes. “I’m so glad for you,” I said.
“We’ll be fine, you know. We’ll be more than fine; we’ll be great!”
I looked up at him. “I told Mario and Giselle I could still keep regular hours in the spring. I figured Jay would be here to – you know – parent.”
“He and I talked about you working.” He saw the look on my face and continued quickly, “Don’t worry! We both know how important it is to you.”
“But how will I do it, now? I mean, I can bring her some of the time; they’re so cool about it – but -”
He cut me off again. “I’ll be here, Burden. You must know how much I love her already.”
I frowned up at him. “You’re also an assistant plumber.”
He waved that away. “I’m only the stand-by assistant. Gary won’t flinch if I need a few months to focus on the baby until she’s old enough for you to wear around work.”
I laughed. “You’re amazing.”
“I am, aren’t I?”
Chapter 3 – Growth
The next several weeks passed in pleasant semi-hibernation. Money and I spent most of our time at the tiny house, feeling odd at Jay’s without him, though according to Money, he’d expected us to make it our home.
We spent hours planning our spring and summer garden, and delighted in doing research for our chicken coop. We were kids pretending, but adults in bringing it all to fruition.
To an outsider looking in, we probably would have appeared to be a couple madly in love and anticipating the birth of our child. We were happy! And we let ourselves enjoy it. We saw no reason not to; why waste our time panicking over what could happen when what was happening was just so – wonderful?
Besides, even in the quiet hours of morning when I lay awake and Money slept peacefully on, the possibility of losing her seemed ridiculous. I’d feel her roll and kick; watch my belly dance as she did, in awe. She was so strong, even then.
And something incredible happened during that time; as my baby (and I) grew, so, too, did Money. He insisted on taking walks and going out to eat; we spent hours wandering downtown Ottawa and even volunteering at the shelters. We shopped for the baby and lingered in maternity stores, Money encouraging me to try things on and then pile them up on the cash. Money was coming out of his shell and he took me along for the ride.
But his favorite times were when we were alone in the tiny house, fire crackling and warm mugs of tea or hot chocolate steaming on the coffee table.
It was during one of those times that I found myself confronted with how much he’d physically changed, too.
I was on the long couch – we’d been calling it that since he’d built the window seat – and completely lost in one of my notebooks, reimagining the fields of Ciel de Cent Acres, as my bosses had given me leeway to do.
“Can you grab me a towel, B?” Money called from the shower.
I rolled my eyes. “No!” I called back, shaking my head. He left his towel in the loft nearly every time he showered, and fetching it for him had become old very quickly.
“Come on!”
“I keep telling you to leave your towel in the bathroom!” I replied, my pencil poised above my notebook as I glanced at the bathroom door.
He poked his head out, his long hair dripping on the kitchen floor. “Please?” he stuck his lip out.
“Ugh, you’re cleaning the floor up afterward!” I said as I maneuvered my way to standing. “Oh,” I grimaced, my belly hardening in a contraction.
“You OK?” Money asked, his voice laced with anxiety.
“Of course. I’m just – fucking – HUGE!” I laughed, breathing as I waited for the tightening to recede.
The sound of the door sliding open had me glancing up. Money was nothing if not a mild to moderately shocking exhibitionist, and this was one of those times he forgot his barely-there sense of modesty.
“Don’t you dare come out here naked, Money!”
He was two steps into the kitchen, dripping and very much nude except for a square of facecloth he held surreptitiously over his man bits. “Do you need help?”
I made a face, frowning at his expression of sincerity. “It’d help if you got dressed!”
He relaxed, grinning, and my eyes found their way from his face to – well, the rest of him. He’d filled in the previously deep hollows of his flesh with an increasingly healthy appetite, but there wasn’t just that; he was muscled and toned, his dedication to shoveling the long driveways at both homes – this and Jay’s – evident. He tiptoed comically across the floor, leaving little puddles with every step.
“What are you doing?”
He frowned. “I’m getting my towel, weirdo!”
I laughed, but protested no further, as distracted as I was with the view of the other side of him as he ascended the stairs.
And, knowing he
had my attention, he wiggled his butt at the top stair before grabbing his damp towel and wrapping it around his waist.
I was still standing when he reached the ground floor again. Still speechless.
“You like what you see, Burden?” He grinned over his shoulder as he padded through the kitchen again, but his cheeky expression was quickly replaced by surprise as he slipped in one of his own little puddles and had to catch himself awkwardly on the counter.
I tilted my head, eyeing his abs. “Huh; you look good even when you’re being an idiot,” I smiled, then lowered myself onto the couch again as he went into the bathroom.
When he came out again, dressed and smelling delicious, I was staring blankly at my page, having made zero progress. I looked up at him. “You’re becoming rather distracting.
He laughed, then sat, lifting my feet to place them on his lap. “Then my work here is done,” he winked. Then he lowered his eyes. “Sorry; I think part of me wanted you to see what I’ve been noticing.”
“A-HA!” I pointed at him accusingly. “Not nice!”
He sank back against the cushions. “I look healthier though, right?”
“That’s one word for it,” I smiled.
His eyes were on my socks, which he was picking tiny fuzzballs off of, and he was blushing. My stomach did a somersault. He wanted me to be proud.
I sat up and reached for his face. “Oh, Money.”
He looked at me, finally.
“You’re gorgeous,” I whispered, letting my palm run down his cheek and to his shoulder, still damp beneath his t-shirt.
“Cool!” he smiled, and was up and rummaging through the fridge in a flash.
I laughed., then pondered my swollen form. “Kinda makes those of us who are gigantic right now feel a little worse for wear,” I noted.
“You’ve never been so beautiful,” he said, glancing briefly at me as he sliced some cheese. “Want a sandwich?”
I nodded. “Of course.”
“Hey,” he stopped slicing, studying me. “You’re joking, right?”
I shrugged. “No, dude. I really, really want a sandwich.”
He rolled his eyes. “No – you’re not really feeling bad about how you look, are you”
I sighed. “It’s hard even to change position these days! I miss being -”
“Unencumbered?” he raised his eyebrows and I let myself giggle.
“Yes. Perfect,” I mused, my eyes on the snowy landscape.
He didn’t speak again until he sat beside me, again placing my feet on his lap after putting two plates on the table.
“You’re the sandwich king!” I enthused, salivating as I examined the plates.
He turned to face me, sitting cross-legged as my feet poked out at his side.
“What?”
“I hope you don’t really feel bad about your body right now.”
I chuckled. “I don’t feel bad, really. It’s more that I feel – taken over!”
He grinned, keeping his eyes on mine.
I sighed. “Look at my hands,” I stretched them toward him and the took them both in one of his, gently rubbing my swollen fingers. “Oh, that feels nice. But look how puffy they are! And my feet!” I bent my knees, resting my feet on his shins. “They’re so swollen my skin is starting fold at the ankles! Like – like an elephant!”
He threw his head back and laughed.
I carried on, unable to stop now that I’d started. “I fart all the time, I sweat in places I’ve only ever been unconsciously aware of, and – I’m horny! - I wake up from dreams about sex on the brink of an orgasm, but I can’t reach around my own belly to – uh – help it!” I lost a bit of steam at the end and blushed hotly.
He’d let his laughter fade. “Really?”
“Ugh,” I rested back against the armrest. “Apparently it’s a hormonal thing.”
He was quiet.
I looked at him again. “All in all, it’s pretty great, though,” I said, letting a trace of sarcasm lace my words.
He made a sound like, “pfft” as he shook his head.
“I’m every inch the flower about to blossom!” I smiled. “The hot air balloon sailing through the clouds, just waiting for someone to release some of my air!
He laughed a little.
“The dam about to burst!” I finished, then held my hands out to him. “Speaking of which, help me up.”
He did, even standing to pull me upright.
I met his eyes when he didn’t move. “You’re in my way.”
“Sorry,” he mumbled, then sat.
I puzzled over the change in him as I did my thing in the bathroom. He was still frowning when I went back to the couch, albeit around a mouthful of sandwich.
I balanced my plate on my belly, saying, “Check this out.”
He pressed a hand against his mouth as he chuckled.
The plate jumped and very nearly became floor food before I caught it with both hands. I looked at Money with open eyes. “Guess she’d rather I eat than play!”
Money’s eyes were wide. “See? That’s what reminds us how amazing this is!”
I took a bite of my sandwich. “Mmm, thank you.”
“I know you feel hot and tired and frustrated that your body’s been inhabited by a growing human for eight months, but you have to believe me when I say I’m in awe of you every day!”
I looked at him, then rolled my eyes. “Don’t worry, Money. Most of the time, I feel great! But seeing how – awesome you look reminded me of how much I’ve changed, too.”
He pressed his lips together, like Jay did.
“I know I haven’t been giving you a lot of attention -”
I frowned, then laughed, nearly spitting out a chunk of celery. “Are you kidding?”
His eyes softened. “I mean – ah,” he threw his hands up in the air and leaned backward.
“What?”
“I just don’t want you to think I don’t want you.”
I only frowned.
“Before Jay left, we were getting closer – in a different way.”
I lowered my eyes. I had noticed his attentions lean to the purely platonic side.
“I just – I have no idea what you need right now. I try and take care of you -”
“You’re wonderful, Money! I want for nothing!”
“But I don’t want to push you or make you at all uncomfortable, you know, physically. So, I’m trying to respect that.”
I nodded, more relieved than I was willing to let on.
“Is that the right thing to do?”
Jay popped into my mind, as much as I tried to hold thoughts of him back. “Probably,” I said quietly, then took another bite of my sandwich.
“I guess you could say I’m leaving it up to you,” Money finished, reaching for his plate.
We ate in silence for a few minutes, my mind whirling with confusion.
“That was good,” he said, reaching for my plate.
“Wait.”
He sat back, a plate in either hand, and met my eyes. “You don’t have to say anything; I was just letting you know I still -”
“I think I’m confused.”
He laughed.
“Jay was the first person I’d ever wanted. The first person to teach me how to feel – how to explore -” I blew out the rest of my air, frustrated. “I’m sure that’s not what you wanted to hear.”
“I know you and Jay had sex, Burden.” He eyed my stomach with a wry grin.
“I think I still associate desire with him, even though I’m angry with him.” I looked out the window, gathering my thoughts. “And there are things about him I don’t even like!” I met his eyes again. “And it’s not just that.”
“You don’t have to -”
“I’m scared of hurting you.”
He pulled back a bit.
“You’ve been hurt so much,” my eyes welled up as I took his hand. “I can’t be a source of pain for you, not when I love you so much.”
There
it was. The thing I’d held back for months. The thing that set the highest boundary between us, yet I hadn’t been willing to face it, even internally.
