Merrily Ever After--A Novella

by Jenny Holiday

  “What is it?” he pressed after he’d turned the music off. “Please tell me what’s wrong.” A million things went through his head. Something had happened to one of her friends. Or her father had done something unimaginably terrible. Or, God, she was sick. Something was wrong with her. Or—

  “I wish it would snow.”

  She wished it would snow? That was what was behind this? His wife loved winter, and Christmas, but that…made no sense.

  “Like, really snow.” Her voice was scratchy, but she stopped and cleared her throat before continuing. “Like it did up north. Not this fake Toronto stuff that turns to slush the moment it hits the pavement.”

  He gave half a thought to whether he could rent a snow-making machine. The kind they used to make snow on ski hills, maybe. But that was dumb, even for him—and he would freely admit he sometimes went a little overboard when it came to making Elise happy. “Well, I can see if the cabin is free this coming—”

  “I’m pregnant.”

  Huh? His brain was still stuck on Guns N’ Roses and snow machines. He laughed—it was the only response he could muster—though it wasn’t a very funny joke.

  But then she said it again. “I’m pregnant, Jay.” And the way she said it, sort of low and sure and sad, told him she wasn’t kidding.

  His vision started to get blurry. Black, floating blobs were closing in. He fought against them. Closed his eyes when it seemed like he wasn’t going to be able to beat them back. Forced his brain to work. Elise was pregnant?

  Yes. Elise was pregnant. The throwing up on the way to the cabin. The fact that she had turned down sparkling wine. That he couldn’t remember the last time she’d complained of the pain associated with her period. Probably even that uncharacteristically emotional sex they had had.

  All these revelations came simultaneously. Everything snapped into place with the sting of a single, sharp blow. It wasn’t like in a movie, where it took him a while to put the pieces together. He knew.

  Now. He knew now. But she had known sooner, hadn’t she? If she was turning down her favorite wine on what was supposed to have been a romantic getaway?

  “It was just a little random nausea,” she’d said when he’d pressed her about getting sick in the car.

  Which meant…she had looked him in the eye and lied to him?

  He opened his eyes. Forced himself not to betray his…what? Anger? Hurt? Dismay. Yes. All of that. But she didn’t need to see that. So he unclenched his jaw and asked, “How long have you known this?”

  Her eyes widened, which he found odd, because to his mind it was a perfectly logical question. “I went to the doctor this morning, and she got me in for an ultrasound this afternoon, and it turns out I’m eight weeks pregnant.”

  “Yes, but how long have you known?” An accusatory tone he normally would never have deployed against Elise crept into his voice, but he couldn’t make himself regret it. He was pretty sure the answer to his question was going to confirm his fear that she’d lied to him all weekend. Here he’d thought they were undergoing some kind of mystical deepening of their union, and she’d been holding back this enormous fucking secret.

  She wiped her eyes with her fingers, which had the effect of further smearing her makeup, even as it removed her tears. “I took a home pregnancy test on Friday morning, but I wanted the doctor to confirm it.”

  He sucked in a breath. Jesus Christ. She’d taken the test the morning of the day they left on their trip. So much for feeling like he and Elise were perfectly in sync on everything.

  “I can’t imagine the result of a home pregnancy test when you’re eight weeks gone is inconclusive.” Though how did he know? He had no idea how home pregnancy tests worked. He had spent his entire life actively avoiding situations in which home pregnancy tests would be required.

  “I know I should have told you. Jane told me I should tell you, but—”

  “Jane knows?” Of course Jane knew, what did he think? All the women knew. Hadn’t they all ganged up on him when he and Elise first got together and given him a big speech about how they were a sisterhood, and if he fucked with Elise, he fucked with all of them? He’d even asked their permission before he proposed to Elise—and he’d only been half kidding.

  Elise nodded. “I wanted to be totally sure before I told you.” When he didn’t say anything, she added, “I didn’t want to ruin our weekend.”

  “You didn’t want to ruin our weekend,” he echoed. The flatness of his tone didn’t sound right to him. It didn’t convey anything about what was going on inside him.

  The black blobs were back. They were closing in. He had to get the fuck out of there. He was going to die if he kept standing here.

  “You didn’t want to ruin our weekend,” he said again, and there, that had come out more proportional to the swirl of anger and hurt battling it out in his chest. He turned to leave but had to grab the door frame to steady himself. “But you don’t mind ruining our lives,” he added under his breath.

  But it must not have been as quiet as he’d intended, because she sucked in a sharp breath.

  Was he supposed to comfort her now? He couldn’t do that. He could barely see. The black blobs were winning. He had to get out of there while he still could.

  * * *

  For a moment there, before he turned to leave, Elise had thought Jay was going to fall over. She’d even started to get up, to go to him. To steady him. Hug him.

  But she’d been slowed down by her fear, made hesitant.

  Elevated risk of miscarriage.

  The phrase her doctor had used was rattling around in her head, a giant chain that kept her pinned to the bed.

  It had seemed impossible. If her body had managed to get pregnant against the odds, surely it could bring a pregnancy to term.

  If she wanted to.

  Which she did.

  As soon as those words had come out of her doctor’s mouth, she’d known. Her instinctive reaction, her terror over the prospect of losing the baby, had, paradoxically, confirmed that she wanted this baby.

  She’d left the appointment teary and frightened, a million questions racing through her mind.

  What if keeping the baby meant she lost Jay?

  And what if she lost the baby in the end anyway?

  Jane had been right. She should have told him right away. Half her problem was that she’d been trying to bear this all alone. And Jay had taught her, had made her really believe for the first time in her life, that she wasn’t alone.

  So she’d told him. And then she’d tried to get up, to help him like he always helped her, because clearly he was reeling.

  Elevated risk of miscarriage was the phrase that struck fear into her heart.

  But you don’t mind ruining our lives was the phrase that shattered it.

  Still, she respected that he was in shock. And yeah, from his perspective, she’d kept a big thing from him this past weekend. She’d regretted it when she saw the hurt on his face. She had questioned why she hadn’t thought they could face the uncertainty together. Why she’d needed this big plan in place for when and how to tell him. She was doing her usual thing where she tried to control everything, but she should have understood that she couldn’t control this.

  But then he’d hit her with it. Her worst fear. Confirmation that she had needed a big plan. That what she had to tell him wasn’t a joyous thing in his eyes. It wasn’t even a scary-but-ultimately-manageable thing. It was the worst thing he could imagine.

  But you don’t mind ruining our lives.

  Chapter Six

  When Jay woke up the next morning, he immediately wished he hadn’t. There was nothing good about being awake right now. To start with, there was the hangover to end all hangovers. He’d heard the phrase a splitting headache before, but he hadn’t known the reality of that phrase until this moment. His skull felt like it had been cleaved in two and shoved inexpertly back together without a care for the fact that his brains were slowly leaking out. His teeth h
urt. His tongue hurt.

  He also didn’t know where he was.

  He rolled over—too fast; he had to exhale sharply and hold his stomach to keep from throwing up—to take in his surroundings.

  Okay, he did know where he was. This was Jane’s office, which doubled as the guest room in Jane and Cam’s house. Which at least meant he wasn’t sleeping in a gutter somewhere. Which, given that his memories of the previous night continued only to a certain point and then stopped abruptly, was not outside the realm of possibility.

  He’d gone to Finnegan’s Wake, his local pub. He’d had…many drinks. And not his usual Mill Street Lager, either. He’d been drinking straight whiskey. He’d been talking with Danny, the bartender, he was pretty sure. And then…nothing.

  He fumbled for his phone, tamping down another wave of nausea. It was eight o’clock. It was Tuesday. He was supposed to be in the office.

  The phone was open to a text thread between him and his brother. He didn’t remember sending any of them. Which, as he scrolled back to the first one from last night, he realized was because he hadn’t.

  Hi. This is Danny, the bartender at Finnegan’s Wake. You need to come get your brother.

  Jay? Is everything okay? Let me call his wife—she’s much closer.

  No, don’t call her. I don’t think he would want that. But you need to come get him. My manager is on me to call to cops to get him out of here.

  Don’t do that. I’m getting in the car right now.

  Jesus. The shame of it all washed over him, and—shit—he was going to throw up. He lurched to his feet and bolted for the bathroom.

  When he came out, his brother was leaning against the wall in the hallway, his arms folded over his chest. They stared at each other. Cameron said nothing, but he didn’t have to.

  Jay wondered if this was how Cam had felt all those years when Jay had been on his case for his various fuckups. It was a terrible feeling, to look your brother in the eye and know you’d disappointed him. That he’d seen your ugliest, lowest, worst self. And Jay didn’t even know how much Cam knew. He’d had to go pick up his disgustingly drunk brother, but did he know why his brother had been so disgustingly drunk?

  Finally, Cam heaved a sigh and pushed himself off the wall. “You think you can keep down some coffee and Advil? Might help.”

  He nodded and followed him into the kitchen. “Is Jane here?”

  “No.” Cam got a mug from a cupboard, and the clink as he set it on the counter made Jay wince. “She spent the night with Elise.”

  He nodded. “I’m glad she called Jane. I’m glad she…wasn’t alone.”

  “She didn’t call Jane. Jane drove me to pick you up, dropped us both off back here, and then headed over to your place.”

  Jay sank to a seat at the small kitchen table. “Do you know…what’s happened?”

  Cam nodded grimly. “Jane told me last night on the way to get you. Elise apparently told her on Friday.”

  Jay knew Elise had told Jane on Friday, but he was a little surprised to learn Jane had kept it from Cam. But he supposed that was the sisterhood at work. It was strong. Maybe even stronger than the marriages of its members, which was an unsettling thought.

  His brother poured coffee into the mug and set it in front of Jay. “This coffee has been sitting around for two hours, so I should probably make you a fresh pot, but I’m not going to bother.”

  Jay wasn’t sure if Cam was saying that because he didn’t know if Jay could keep anything down or if he meant that Jay didn’t deserve fresh coffee. Either way, the logic was sound, so he nodded and experimentally lifted the cup to his lips.

  “You want to talk?” Cam asked brusquely.

  “Why would I want to do that?”

  Cam shrugged. “Maybe because you’re going to have a fucking baby, dude.”

  Oh God. His stomach heaved again, but he got control of himself. “I wouldn’t say that necessarily.”

  His brother snorted in what sounded like disgust. “Well, it sounds like Elise would.”

  Jay winced, and not because of his head this time. It was not a good look that his brother knew what Elise’s wishes were in regard to the pregnancy when Jay himself did not. He buried his head in his hands and said weakly, “She would?”

  “Well, I don’t know, man, but you can ask her yourself.”

  Jay’s head shot up—a reaction he immediately regretted as pain exploded through his skull—to see Cam looking out the window over the sink, which overlooked the front yard.

  “Because here she is.”

  * * *

  Holy crap, she was scared.

  “It’s okay if you’re scared.”

  Jane was reading her mind, which in any other circumstance Elise would have found amusing.

  “Remember what Wendy said,” Jane went on.

  They had dropped Wendy off at her place on their way to Jane’s. The girls had spent the night with Elise. Gia had Skyped in for portions of it. They’d talked through everything, and Elise had told them she wanted to keep the baby.

  The girls had not been surprised. They’d reminded her about her breakdown at Jane’s bachelorette party, where she’d gotten drunk and then had a weepy episode on the topic of her childlessness. She had forgotten about that—probably on account of the drunk part.

  “Say it,” Jane prompted.

  “I am a person with free will, a support system, and resources. I can do what I want.” Elise parroted the mantra Wendy had made her memorize, but even though she knew with her mind those words were true, they didn’t feel true in her heart.

  Perhaps because it was broken. The girls might not have been surprised by her desire to keep the baby, but Jay had been. She really was pulling a bait and switch on him. But did he need to be so cruel about it? But you don’t mind ruining our lives.

  Cam came out to meet them as they pulled up in front of the house. When Jane got out of the car, they exchanged a look, and he took her hand. “What do you say we go for a little stroll?”

  Jane looked questioningly at Elise, and she nodded. Jane had done enough. They didn’t need an audience for…whatever this was. The funny part was she had no real agenda here. She wasn’t here to force Jay’s hand or to make any speeches. She just…needed to see him. Was tired of wallowing at home in her sadness.

  And through all this shit, she still had that feeling like she’d had at the cabin, like he was her rock. Like even though the cause of her anxiety was, basically, him, he would still somehow be there for her. Like his reaction last night had been an aberration. One she could understand, given the nature of the bomb she’d dropped on him, but still, ultimately, an aberration.

  So she supposed she was here for a do-over.

  She let herself in Jane’s front door. He was in the kitchen, which was at the back of the open-concept space, but the house was tiny, so Elise’s eyes went right to her husband.

  He was already looking at her.

  “I’m sorry.”

  They spoke in unison, and relief flooded her.

  “How are you?” he said as she moved toward him.

  She wasn’t sure how to answer that, but as she drew closer, she settled for, “Better than you maybe?” Because he looked terrible. Ashen and red-eyed. She’d known that Cameron had to pick up his drunk ass last night, but wow.

  He nodded his agreement, his eyes downcast.

  “I’m keeping it.” She wanted it out, now that she was here. He might as well know where she stood. Her heart started to pound. She felt like she was standing in front of a judge, waiting for a verdict to be brought down.

  He didn’t speak, though, just kept nodding, looking down at the table.

  “You’re not going to say anything?”

  “Are you eating enough?”

  “Am I eating enough?” What? She was waiting for a verdict here. For him to rule on her fate. Their fate.

  “If you’ve been throwing up. Are you eating enough?”

  “That’s what you want
to talk about? My diet?” And even worse was the way he was asking her about her diet. He still wasn’t looking at her, and he was reciting his questions like they were prewritten lines in a risk-management manual he was reading.

  “There was unpasteurized cheese on that cheese plate we ate at the cabin.”

  “Oh, for God’s sake, Jay. Who cares about the cheese?” Her voice was high but strong. She was glad of it. If they were going to fight—which apparently they were, though there was really no precedent for that—she didn’t want to appear the way she actually felt, which was weak and shaky and sad.

  “And you just let me fuck you over and over again?” His voice had gone the other direction. It had gotten deeper. But that was what it always did when he was aroused, so she supposed it made sense that it also did so when he was angry. She didn’t have any experience with being the object of his anger.

  But you know what? Screw that. The fact that he was angry at her made her blood boil. Why had she been thinking, a moment ago, that she was waiting for a verdict from him? She wasn’t on trial here. “Yes. I just let you fuck me over and over.”

  “But dammit, Elise, there’s a baby in there!”

  If she wasn’t so mad, she’d be amused. “There’s a fetus the size of a kidney bean way up in my uterus, nowhere near my vagina. You have a nice dick, Jay, but don’t flatter yourself—no one is that big.”

  She couldn’t really blame him, though. She herself had googled just to make sure, before their weekend. She’d known with her mind that sex was harmless, but she’d wanted to see it confirmed in black and white on the Mayo Clinic website. And that’s how she knew to make the kidney bean comparison—her googling had also led her to a site where they showed you by analogy how big the fetus was each week of the pregnancy.

  So she softened a bit. “Sex doesn’t hurt anything. I promise.”

  He sighed. “I’m sorry. I just…want to know that you’re taking care of yourself.”

  Wow. That sounded like something a person would say to…a co-parent. A friend. Someone you were logistically but not emotionally invested in. Especially coming from Jay, who made it his personal mission to take care of her in ways both big and small.