Always Something There to Remind Me

by Beth Harbison

  She’d give anything for a different reality right now.

  “Was it good?”

  He laughed. “There was good and bad.”

  “I bet.”

  “What about you? What have you been up to?”

  Her first impulse was to lie. Or, rather, to omit. To not mention the pregnancy, the shower she’d just had, the baby in eight weeks, but there was no way to get away with that. Even now it felt weird to tell him anything about her life that was so solidly Not To Do With Him, which was stupid since he was the one who’d made the choice that they should go their separate ways and it had been a long time since he’d done that.

  She should have told him about the baby joyfully—she should have been so excited about this new chapter in her life that nothing else mattered—but something told her this call was pivotal.

  If her life had gone a different way, if she hadn’t met Jake—or even if she hadn’t had that one last night with him—this was the call that might have given her and Nate the chance to see if they still had anything together. That was a question she’d had for a long, long time.

  Or at least the chance to put a bandage on the open wound that their split had become.

  But they were never going to get that chance now. “Actually, I’m pregnant,” she said through a tight throat. There. It was done. Out. She’d said it. “The baby’s due in two months,” she added, in case there was any question left.

  There was a pause.

  “Oh. Wow, that’s great!” He sounded chipper. Too chipper. “Congratulations, Erin, really. Are you— Who’s the—” Another pause. It was a hard question to ask regardless of who you were asking.

  “The father is a guy I went out with for a while,” she answered. “Jake. We’re not married. We’re just … going to see what happens.” She couldn’t shut up. It was like she was in a confessional or something. What was she hoping? That he’d say he didn’t care if she was pregnant, he wanted to see her anyway?

  What guy would say that?

  “Wow, you always liked kids,” he said, in a tone that was utterly unreadable apart from the fact that it seemed disproportionately cheerful. “That should be good for you.”

  “Yeah.” Wow, she really wished she believed that. She really wished she had the enthusiasm and excitement he seemed to be assigning her.

  “A baby,” he said, and she could imagine him shaking his head. “Wow. Big news.”

  It was stupid for her to be disappointed that he didn’t sound more upset at her news. Why would he? This wasn’t a significant call, it was just a guy calling an old friend because he’d just gotten back into town and was probably feeling kind of melancholy.

  Now they’d chat for a few minutes about nothing, and hang up, and she’d never hear from him again. He’d be gone.

  Again.

  She didn’t want that to happen.

  But what choice did she have? She had a time bomb ticking away in her womb. There was no putting this off, no playing both sides, nothing.

  Now it was even more awkward. They talked for ten more minutes, making idle conversation, both knowing there were other things to talk about that now had no place in this conversation. She watched the tree branches sway outside the window and wished things were different.

  Finally they brought it to a close, Erin saying, “So … it was good to catch up with you…,” and Nate agreeing and probably neither of them meaning it.

  Then it was over. The call was over. The contact was over. Everything was over.

  Again.

  How many good-byes was she going to have to suffer through with this guy? And why did it always hurt as much as the first time?

  This one, though … this one was hers. She might as well have been telling him she was dying, for all the finality that her pregnancy held.

  She had no idea what he was thinking, of course, but she was seriously disconcerted. In a way it wasn’t surprising that he’d show up unexpectedly—after all, he’d not shown up when she had expected, and hoped, and prayed, for several years. Eventually she’d reached a kind of acceptance of that, if not a peace with it, so there was no way for him to appear again without surprising her.

  But on the day of her baby shower?

  If Nate had ever given any indication at all that he was thinking of her, that he was coming back, that he wanted to talk to her, anything, then she might have made that her priority.

  Then again, maybe she wouldn’t have. She might have met Jake, been taken by all the things that were so sexy about him, and followed the same course anyway, thinking of Nate with fondness instead of angst and this terrible lack of resolution that had hung from her like a loose thread for all these years.

  She’d never really know now.

  Two months later, she had the baby on schedule—Jake and her mother were there—and loved the little girl as soon as she laid eyes on her. She named her Camilla because she was reading a book about a heroine named Camilla when she went into labor. She and Jake tried to make a go of it, but it was over before it began and they settled into a friendship that made for a surprisingly easy coparenting experience.

  For the first year, her life was so consumed by parenting that she didn’t have the time or inclination to think about romantic regrets.

  As Camilla got older, and Erin began to date again, now and then she had the stray thought about how things could have been different. But she didn’t regret how things had gone. She didn’t regret having Camilla.

  The only thing she wasn’t completely glad of was the fact that she’d let that opportunity with Nate go. Not the opportunity to get back with him, but it had been a chance to finally talk to him. To feel some semblance of resolution to an issue that had plagued her for years.

  She’d wanted that so desperately for so long—why had she blown it when she finally had the chance?

  Nate had called and she’d essentially sent him on his way without taking so much as ten minutes to talk honestly before dropping her bomb on him. Instead she’d given him what clearly seemed now like the ultimate dismissal. She’d told him she was pregnant and left no room for discussion, even if he was inclined to discuss.

  What she’d really wanted, though she only started to realize it a lot later, was for him to make some grand gesture. But what was he going to do? Swoop into the delivery room, like Dustin Hoffman at the end of The Graduate, to proclaim some undying love for her?

  Even if that was what she wanted—or maybe something a little less grand—he wouldn’t do it. Man, if there was one thing she knew about Nate by now, it was that he was never going to be the guy who makes the big gesture. It wasn’t a fault of his or anything, just a fact. He’d no more step in and claim her as his girl than strip naked and dance in a fountain.

  She was always the one more likely to strip and dance in a fountain.

  The problem was that she’d always hope, despite knowing it wasn’t in his nature, that—just once—he would fight even half as hard as she had to get back together.

  If he had, she would have given him everything—her heart, soul, her life if that’s what it took.

  Then again, she’d already done that.

  And he hadn’t wanted it.

  Chapter 25

  Present

  There are a lot of ways I might have expected this to end. It would have to be a huge grand gesture, right? Because that’s what he never did before? Maybe some sort of skywriting overhead when I was leaving for work, apologizing for his lack of vision, vowing his eternal love and devotion. Or perhaps even a simple mix tape, like the one I’d been assembling in my head for months now, saying every flowery romantic sentiment he had but couldn’t put to words.

  Well, none of that happened.

  What actually happened was that six months passed with no contact from Nate at all. It was six months during which I had to work to get over him—to get him out of my mind—all over again. Age had brought me some wisdom in this way, but the heart never learns to stop loving very qu
ickly or easily.

  So it was hard.

  Then, one frigid December night, the doorbell rang while I was doing the dishes and I heard Cam talking to someone who had a vaguely familiar tone to his voice.

  Obviously the sound of Cam talking to any man at the front door would draw my attention, so I dried my hands on the dishrag and went—garbed in Mickey Mouse sweatpants and a V-neck T-shirt that was a little bit tight in the bust but good enough for around the house—to see who it was.

  And even though on some level I’d known the voice the moment I’d heard the timbre of it, it was still a shock to see him standing there: high cheekbones, chiseled jaw, cleft chin, soulful eyes, and that particular stance of his that always seemed like he was equally ready to relax or fight.

  Odder still, there he was standing next to Cam. Two people I never thought I’d see together.

  “Nate,” I said stupidly, taking a step toward him, my unglamorous sweats crying Oh, boy! in Mickey’s voice with every step.

  He met my eyes. Same penetrating gaze that had met mine a million times before, same fringe of lashes that stopped short of being girlie and always made my heart trip, and the same curve of the lips I had long ago memorized and fallen in love with. I knew what it felt like to my fingertips and to my tongue.

  “Erin.”

  I glanced at Cam, who suddenly seemed like a strange being placed out of time, then back at him. I didn’t know what to do, what to say, who to say it to. “What are you doing here?” I heard myself ask him. “Is Theresa okay?”

  Like if Theresa wasn’t okay for some reason, he’d come running to tell me. Quick! Only Erin can help! It was a stupid question, but I wasn’t capable of conjuring a good one now.

  “I’m sure she is,” he said, holding my gaze and speaking quietly. Gravely. “But I haven’t seen her in five months.”

  Something in my chest lurched. It was immediately dampened by caution. After everything I’d been through with this man, and all the time in my life I’d spent getting over him, there was no wisdom in jumping to conclusions. “You haven’t?”

  Five months?

  “No.”

  More information, please. I tried to still my pounding heart and had the passing thought that if this visit didn’t mean what I was sure, deep down, it did, then I might never get over it this time. “Why is that?”

  He looked at Cam. “Would you mind,” he asked, “if I took your mother out in order to talk? I think we have a lot to catch up on.”

  “Absolutely!” she said with a smile.

  “Wait, don’t I have a say in this?” I asked.

  “Not really,” Cam said.

  He smiled at her, then turned his gaze to me. “You heard your daughter. Maybe we should talk about this, just the two of us.”

  “I … don’t know.” I didn’t know anything.

  “Erin. Please.”

  I swallowed hard. There was a lump in my throat that I was pretty sure would never go away. “Maybe it’s too late.” I straightened my back, as if that would lend credibility to the idea of my lack of interest.

  He sighed and leaned against the doorframe, a half smile playing at his mouth the way it always did when he knew I didn’t mean what I was saying.

  And he was totally right, of course. There was plenty to say.

  Which made tears spring to my eyes. “I can’t do this,” I said to him. Then I looked at Cam and said, clearly about five minutes later than I should have, “Go to your room.”

  She looked like she’d just been caught watching something wildly inappropriate on her computer. “Oh! Sorry. Okay.” She scurried off.

  I watched her disappear down the hall and around the corner into her room. Then I returned my attention to him. “This is crazy.”

  “It has been for a long time.”

  “I don’t know what you want, but I’m not sure I can go through this.”

  He took a step toward me. “You know what I want.”

  I shook my head. “I don’t know anything.”

  “What do you want?” he asked. “That’s the question.”

  It took a little while for me to find my voice. Because I knew what I wanted. Of course I knew. On some level, I’d always wanted it. But did that make it right? “It’s been a long time since that was your question,” I said to him. “I’m scared to answer it.”

  “What are you scared of?”

  I sighed and shrugged, holding back tears with everything I had. “Everything.”

  “Mom?” Cam called from around the corner. “Can you come here just for a minute?”

  I held Nate’s gaze. “Not right now!”

  “Please?”

  I broke eye contact. “Fine!” This was ridiculous. “Wait here,” I said to him. “I’ll be right back.”

  He nodded his assent. Like he was ready to stand there in my foyer all night if that’s what it took.

  I started to walk away, then turned back to him. “You’ll really be here when I get back?”

  He gave a laugh. “I promise. I will wait forever.”

  A sigh caught in my chest.

  I went to Cam’s room and the short walk felt like it took forever, each step taking me treacherously away from what might well turn out to be another one of those realistic dreams I had about him.

  I wanted to stay with him, to keep him there, to keep him real.

  “What are you doing?” she demanded as soon as I got to her door.

  I was taken aback. Her words were like cold water on me, bringing me right back to the present. “What are you talking about? I’m trying to handle a very difficult situation. What do you think you’re doing?”

  “I don’t know, maybe trying to stop you from making the same stupid mistake you’ve made over and over?”

  “The same stupid mistake I’ve made?”

  She nodded impatiently. “You’ve made, he’s made, everyone’s made. God.” For a second there, she sounded just like Roxanne. “Whatever. It’s late on a freezing winter night and he just showed up here saying he hasn’t seen his wife, or maybe his ex-wife, in months. Even I know what that means! Now is your chance.”

  I shook my head and found myself pacing back and forth in front of her. “No, now is your chance. At least it was. But my stupid romantic choices have cost you over and over again. You had a chance to have a normal family, a sister, a father figure who lived in the house with us and was there full-time, and I blew that. I blew it for you. Because of silly, childish notions about romance and love and ideals that couldn’t possibly have withstood the test of time.” Tears burned in my eyes and spilled over uncontrolled. “I’m sorry.”

  “Mom—”

  I held up a hand. “If I go out there and chase a teenage dream off into some John Hughes movie sunset, I will be the worst mother who ever lived!”

  “Why?”

  “Because…” Well, why? Because I didn’t marry a man I wasn’t in love with? Because I’d held out and now the man I had been in love with for twenty-three years had shown up at my door with what seemed to be his heart on his sleeve? Because if I went with him, I showed my daughter that there is power in true love, and faith, even if you have to wait for a long time to get to it?

  I was going to him. It had been over for so long, but now I knew—I knew—this was it.

  “See?” she said smugly, and for a moment there she was much older than her years.

  And I was much younger.

  I looked at her, and could see—just barely—the child she had been, there in the face of the woman she was becoming. I had no regrets. If I had done all the things I’d just spent so much time wishing I’d done differently, then I wouldn’t have had her, and that thought was simply untenable.

  My life had gone right; it had gone exactly as it needed to in order to bring me here.

  “Mom,” Cam said firmly, clearly sensing my wobbly uncertainty. “Please do this. You need this.” She put her hands on my shoulders and looked into my eyes. “You’ve spent my whol
e life sacrificing yourself for me. Please do this one thing for yourself.”

  She was right.

  “You stay here,” I cautioned her, following a sudden urgency to move the earth, if necessary, to do this thing. “I’m going out for just a little while. I’ll have my cell phone if you need me.”

  She beamed and clapped her hands together quietly. “Yay!”

  “We’re just going to talk.”

  “I know!”

  Were we?

  Would it stop there?

  “Keep the door locked,” I said unnecessarily. I’d stayed home alone all the time when I was fifteen, almost sixteen, I don’t know why I worried so much about her, but I knew tonight was one night I really needed not to worry.

  “I will.” She giggled. “And Mom…”

  I stopped. “Yeah?”

  “He’s really cute.”

  My heart thrummed. “Yeah.”

  She paused and frowned. “Shorter than I expected, though.”

  I laughed. “But good-looking.”

  She nodded. “Totes. Have fun!”

  I went back to the foyer. Nate was fiddling with the knickknacks on my foyer table.

  It was nice to see him like that, looking strangely at home in my place, with my stuff.

  I caught myself. It was stupid to start thinking that way. Yes, my instincts told me where this was going. He’d intimated as much too. But neither of us knew where it would end tonight.

  Or maybe both of us did.

  This was no time to start counting on my assumptions. I might as well just beg him to kick me in the heart and get it over with.

  “Sorry,” he said when he saw me. He set down a picture of me holding Cam as a baby. He came toward me and put his hands on my shoulders. “I didn’t mean to ambush you like this. I’m not all that great at this kind of thing. The … romantic move.”

  The warmth of his touch was comforting. “It’s okay.” It had been too long for me to play coy. It was okay. It was more than okay.

  In fact, I’d never been so glad to see anyone in my life.

  “Oh, Nate…”

  He looked toward the bedroom where Cam was singing loudly with a Weezer song and then said, “So … you want to go outside and talk?”