by Karen Cimms
Either she was ignoring him, or she wasn’t home. He glanced at the clock on the dresser. It was almost three. Given that the sun was still shining painfully, it must be afternoon. That, or God really did hate him.
He stalked into the kitchen. “What?” he yelled into the phone.
“Well, if it isn’t Little Mary Sunshine.”
“Whaddaya want?”
“Not you, that’s for sure,” Joey said. “Where’s Kate?”
“I dunno.”
“What do you mean, you don’t know?”
“It means I don’t know where she is. Maybe she went to the store.”
There was a brief silence. “You don’t know where your pregnant wife is?”
He rubbed his eyes. He needed coffee. And another fifteen hours sleep. “I don’t know. I woke up and she was gone.”
“You just woke up? Do you know what time it is?”
“Do you know how fuckin’ loud you are?”
“Oh, honey, you have no idea.”
After a moment of silence, Joey demanded he have Kate call when she returned.
“Yeah, whatever.” He was talking to himself; Joey had already hung up.
He grabbed his sunglasses, then went to the kitchen window and pulled aside the handmade curtains. Mrs. Lombardi and Mrs. Calabrese were sitting on their bench as usual, but there was no sign of Kate.
She couldn’t have gone far, either to the park or maybe the A&P—although now that he thought about it, the walk had become too much for her lately. The keys to the van weren’t where he usually left them. After digging around in the junk drawer, he found the spare set and headed out to the parking lot. No van. He doubled back. How the hell had he gotten home alive if he couldn’t even remember where he’d parked? As he passed through the courtyard, he was flagged down by the two old crows wilting in the late afternoon sun.
“Where’s Caterina?” asked Mrs. Lombardi in her heavily accented English. “We havena seen her for two days.” She held up two arthritic fingers. Mrs. Calabrese nodded in agreement, producing a couple misshapen fingers of her own.
“Busy,” he answered. “Getting ready to move, you know?”
“And the bambini, eh?”
He nodded and forced a smile. The old ladies loved him, even though until Kate moved in, he’d had no idea who anyone in the building was, nor had he cared. Now she knew the whole damn building, and as a result, they all seemed to know him.
“Have you seen her?” he asked, squinting in spite of the dark glasses. “I was taking a nap. She must’ve gone out.”
“Not for two days.” Mrs. Lombardi shook her head. Mrs. Calabrese held up two fingers again, since he hadn’t gotten the message the first time.
He nodded. “Right. If you see her, would you tell her I’m looking for her?”
Mrs. Lombardi nodded. Mrs. Calabrese continued to hold up her fingers.
When he got to the street, he searched the block. Still no sign of his van. Kate rarely drove it; she couldn’t even park it. So if she had taken it, where the hell could she have gone?
A few hours later, Billy was knocking on Toni’s door. One look at her face and he knew he’d fucked up again. Big time.
“Is she here?”
Toni folded her arms and glared. “Hello to you, too.”
“Sorry. Hello. Is she here?”
Opening the door wider, she stepped aside to let him in.
“She’s in the bathroom.”
“Why didn’t she call me?” he asked, his voice unusually tight. “I’ve been worried sick.”
Toni shook her head and shrugged.
“She okay?”
“Beats me,” she said dryly. “She hasn’t really said much, and she’s too good to speak badly of someone, no matter how much he deserves it.”
He waited in the doorway, not sure if he should go in or go home. Toni wasn’t making it any easier.
“How’d you get here?” she asked.
“Denny. Since she wasn’t with Joey and she wasn’t at the hospital, I figured she must be here. I saw the van out by the street.” This time he’d remembered to look in Kate’s phonebook. Otherwise, he’d never have known where Toni’s new apartment was located.
She motioned to an empty basket on the kitchen table. “I was heading to the laundry room. I’ll fold down there so you can have some privacy.”
After she left, he stood near the door, his hands jammed in his pockets. He straightened up when he heard the bathroom door open.
“Seems all I want to do lately is sleep and pee.” She stopped when she saw him.
“Where’s Toni?”
“She went to the laundry room.”
She remained in the hallway, one hand resting on her belly, the other on the small of her back. Her hair had been loosely braided, and she wore a lightweight sundress. Some of the weight she gained over the last few weeks showed in her face, and without makeup, she really did look like jailbait.
He took a few cautious steps. “If you keep running away, you’re gonna destroy my ego.”
She looked down, refusing to meet his gaze. Okay. Humor was out. He covered the rest of the distance between them.
“I’m sorry, Katie.” He tilted her chin and lifted her face, forcing her to look at him. “It was stupid of me to drink so much.”
She looked sad and tired, her face pale under what remained of her summer tan. “You could’ve missed it, you know? You could’ve missed the whole thing.”
It didn’t take long to figure out why she was so pissed.
“The contractions started around midnight. I was so excited. I couldn’t wait for you to get home.” She looked disgusted as she turned away.
Shit. “Are you okay?”
She folded her arms across her chest and nodded. “False labor.”
“Katie.” He reached for her, but the look she gave him stilled his hand.
“How would you have felt if you missed it, Billy? How would you have felt if you woke up this morning, and your child had been born while you were passed out on the couch?”
The lump in his throat felt about the same size as the baby she was still—thank God—carrying. If he tried to answer, no sound would emerge.
“Why?” Her voice broke on the single syllable.
Why? Because I’m scared to death. Because I don’t know what I’m doing, or how I’m going to take care of you and a baby. Because you’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me and I know someday I’m just going to fuck it all up.
He couldn’t say any of that. Instead, he just shrugged. “Dunno. Just got out of control, I guess.” Knowing he’d disappointed her was the worst feeling he could imagine. If he’d had a tail, it would be between his legs. “I’m sorry. I really am. I won’t ever drink like that again. I promise.”
She seemed to be weighing his words.
“Come home, Katie. Please?”
“You mean it? You won’t ever drink like that again?”
“I do.” And he did—mean it. At that moment, he really did.
Chapter Thirty-Six
The worst Billy had ever gotten from Kate was some occasional moodiness, but here in the final days of her pregnancy with her hormones on overdrive, he was having a hard time keeping ahead of her tears and snippy remarks. If he hadn’t done so much reading about pregnancy and birth, he might’ve thought she hated him.
Although the way he’d been behaving, he wouldn’t blame her if she did.
Trying to redeem himself, he took charge of the move and the unpacking. There was a lot to do, and not much time to do it. In order to get it all done, not to mention still earn a living, he snuck a little speed now and then. And really, he was doing it for her. If he needed a little help himself, what was the harm?
The only thing they were waiting on now was the baby.
“First babies are often late,” Dr. Landry reminded them. “If we go two weeks past your due date, then we’ll talk about inducing, but in the meantime, just sit tight.”
/> “Maybe that’s the problem,” Billy said, straight-faced. “You’re sitting too tight.”
Kate shot him a dirty look.
“Okay, folks,” Dr. Landry gave him a sympathetic smile, while Kate continued to glare. “I’ll see you next Monday, if not sooner. And this probably isn’t advice I need to give you two, but sex could help move things along.” She winked as she slipped out the door.
“This baby is never coming out,” Kate grumbled as he slipped her panties over her swollen ankles.
“Yes, it will.”
“I can’t remember the last time I saw my feet.” She pointed her toes inward, then outward. “They’re enormous.”
“They’re not enormous.” He said this several times a day, either about her ankles, her belly, or her ass. He helped her off the table, and when she couldn’t reach to pull her panties up, he did it for her. No wonder she was cranky. Being pregnant was a pain in the ass.
They were almost to the front desk when she stopped. “I have to pee.”
He almost pointed out that she’d just gone, but caught himself in time. “Do you need help with your underwear?”
“No, I don’t need help with my underwear.” The bathroom door slammed shut. What happened to the sweet girl he married?
He was waiting to make an appointment for the following Monday when Kate waddled up and poked him with her elbow. When he looked down, she shoved something into his hands.
“Stick this in your pocket.”
“What is it?”
“Just take it,” she insisted.
In the elevator, he pulled the wadded ball of fabric from his pocket and burst out laughing. “Your underwear?”
“I couldn’t pull them back up, so I just took them off.”
He grinned as he backed her into the corner of the elevator and slipped his hand under her dress.
“No underwear, huh? You heard what the doctor said.”
She pushed her hand against his chest, laughing. “Don’t even think about it.”
Back at home, Billy made her comfortable on the couch, then headed for the market. She was asleep with a magazine open in her lap when he got back. Her eyes popped open when he kissed the top of her head.
“I have to pee.” She held her arms up so he could help her stand.
Instead of returning to the couch, she waddled into the kitchen. There was barely enough room for him, let alone her and her belly, but he’d been trying so hard lately, and she’d been so crabby. Helping with dinner was the least she could do.
She pulled two plump, red beefsteaks from a paper sack. “Fresh tomatoes!”
“We haven’t had a frost yet, so you’re in luck. I got them at the farmer’s market on Avenue B. They also had sweet corn. I told him I had a pregnant wife who was a week overdue, and if the corn wasn’t fresh, you’d be by tomorrow. I think I scared him.”
“Yeah, well.” She laughed.
She didn’t hold out much hope for the weathered-looking ears, but this was the Billy she’d fallen in love with. The one who listened when she spoke; who paid attention to the things she loved, then did his best to give them to her, whether it be tickets to the theater or a jar of green olives. A couple ears of stale field corn couldn’t mar what she was feeling right now.
She watched as he tucked a loose strand of hair behind his ear as he leaned over her cookbook and studied the recipe for béarnaise sauce.
This Billy? He made dealing with the other Billy worth it.
When everything was put away, the steaks seasoned and the potatoes baking in the oven, he insisted she go sit in the living room and put her feet up.
“I’m tired of sitting. I want this baby to come out. How about a bumpy ride after dinner?”
His gaze flickered over her face. “I have a better idea.”
Taking her hand, he led her into the living room and flipped on the stereo. Dancing wasn’t easy with her belly in the way, but they muddled through, and for a few minutes, with her fingers in his hair and his hands pressed against the small of her back, she felt almost normal.
When the song ended, he continued to sway with her until the buzzer sounded over the stove.
“Kitchen or couch?”
“Kitchen. The couch keeps trying to swallow me.”
After a detour to the bathroom, she followed Billy into the kitchen. The table was set, including a small vase filled with pink carnations. She was about to thank him for the flowers, when he cursed.
“I left a bag of lemons in the van.”
“I’ll go.” She dreaded having to sit again.
“Sorry, but I can run down three flights of stairs and back before you make it to the elevator.”
She would’ve argued, but he was right. While he was gone, she rinsed the tomatoes and sliced them, then drizzled them with olive oil and sprinkled them with salt and pepper. She was licking her fingers when she heard him knock.
“You’re lucky I didn’t sit down.” She pulled the door open and gasped. “Daddy!”
She wrapped her arms over her belly as if trying to hide her pregnancy.
“Hello, Kate.”
Her father looked older, tired. His hair more salt than pepper, and badly in need of a trim.
“Aren’t you going to invite me in?” He smiled nervously.
Where are your manners, Kate? She heard her mother so clearly, she peeked into the hall to see if she was there.
“Of course. Please.” She stepped back, although part of her wanted to slam the door and go hide in her room.
He glanced at the kitchen table. “You’re making dinner.”
“It’s okay,” she said as she led him down the narrow hall to the living room. She took in the room as if seeing it for the first time. There was an unknown stain on the cushion and a tear in the arm of the sofa. Magazines, her What to Expect book, and empty guitar string packets were strewn across the coffee table, as well as a dirty glass. He took a seat on the sofa and turned to face her as she reached for the glass.
“Can I get you something to drink?” Her voice sounded strangely distant to her own ears.
“No, thanks. I don’t want you to go to any trouble.”
Kate looked at her secondhand wing chair. The floral fabric was faded and the piping frayed around the seat cushion. It clashed with the horrid orange sofa. She sat, still holding the glass, and faced her father.
“How are you feeling?” he asked.
“I’m fine.” To be honest, it felt as if there was a foot wedged against her cervix, and her bladder was the size of a pea, but he probably didn’t want to hear any of that.
“You look beautiful, Kate. You really are glowing.”
Before she could thank him, the front door opened.
“Sorry I took so long,” Billy yelled. “Mrs. Lombardi wants to come over later and look at your eyes and do some hocus-pocus so she can figure out when the baby’s coming.” His voice grew louder as he came down the hallway. When he saw her father sitting on the couch, he stopped.
“What’re you doing here?” he asked, his tone flat. Not quite threatening, but close.
“Billy!” She swiveled toward him as best she could with no waist to swivel with.
His hand settled on her shoulder. “I asked you a question.” That time, he sounded threatening.
“I wanted to see my daughter.” Her father sat up straighter.
Like her furniture, she saw Billy through her father’s eyes now, too. Although his hair was much blonder, the roots, like his mustache and goatee, were darker. In his left ear, he wore a hoop earring. A cross dangled from a second hole. On his left arm, he wore a watch with a thick black leather strap; on his right, a braided leather bracelet as well as the one made from guitar wires she’d given him at Christmas. Black tribal tattoos snaked up his forearms. His jeans were frayed and torn in the knees, and his feet were bare.
As intimidating as he appeared, none of that really mattered. Her father’s eyes had landed on Billy’s black Soundgarden T-shirt,
declaring in bold white letters that Fuck Happens. Her parents hadn’t approved of him when he was clean-shaven, nicely dressed, and on his best behavior. What difference did it make what he looked like now?
“Babe,” she said as Billy stared at her father menacingly, the small muscle twitching along his jaw. “Why don’t you bring a chair in from the kitchen and sit next to me?”
Turning to her father with the manners that had been drilled into her for eighteen years, she asked again if he would like something to drink.
“Maybe a glass of water.” He cleared his throat.
Billy looked down at her. “You need anything?” When their eyes met, she saw something else: Are you okay?
She nodded. “I’m good.”
He ran his hand along her shoulders, then rested it there, his thumb gently rubbing the back of her neck. The tight coil that had formed in her chest began to unwind.
“How’s Mom?” she asked after Billy had left the room. The name tasted bitter on her tongue.
“Fine. Same as always.”
Too bad.
“How’s school?”
“I wouldn’t know.” He gave her a tremulous smile. “We retired in June.”
“Good. I understand she’s wanted to do that for a long time.”
With his hands folded in his lap, his eyes flitted about the room nervously, as if he couldn’t remember why he was there.
He cleared his throat. “Look, sweetheart. I know you’ve been hurt. We’ve been hurt, too. And frightened. We had no idea where you went or how you were. We wouldn’t have known about the baby if Billy hadn’t come looking for you.”
“What?” She looked up at Billy, who had returned with water for her father. There was no ice in the glass, she noticed. He probably hadn’t even let the faucet run until it was cold. “When?”
She looked from one to the other, but neither answered. Other than the little tic along his jaw, which said plenty, Billy gave nothing away. He sat beside her, folded his arms, and stared at her father.
“To be honest, Kate,” her father continued, “we thought you’d eventually come home when—”
“When what? When I grew up? When I came to my senses? When I ran out of money?” Her voice grew higher with each question. “When what?”
