Maybe Don't Wanna

by Lani Lynn Vale

  I needed to be able to read, because reading gave me that sense of rightness that I always seemed to be missing in my life.

  Nothing ever felt right, and I wasn’t sure that it ever would.

  “So then do breads and books,” she said. “You make good bread, and those Amish Friendship Breads are the bomb.”

  I agreed with her on that.

  I’d had to stop making them so often because I couldn’t fit into my jeans.

  Though, since Janie had gotten pregnant with Rafe’s baby, she’d forced me to make them a lot more than my waistband had allowed.

  I’d had to start tying my own jeans together with a hairband over the last week because I refused to buy any more pants.

  Usually, when a woman got pregnant, it was her spouse that sometimes felt the pregnancy symptoms with them. This time, it was me.

  I was nowhere near pregnant—because a virgin couldn’t get pregnant, and I was most certainly that—but yet I gained that pregnancy weight right along with Janie. I’d put on twelve pounds—the exact same amount that she’d gained.

  And where she had the body to hide it—other than her obviously pregnant belly—I didn’t. I was short, had no boobs, and was now sporting a giant ass.

  I looked awful.

  At least, to myself.

  Janie acted like I didn’t look any different, and Rafe agreed with her.

  Whatever.

  They were just being nice.

  But my pants didn’t lie!

  “Yo,” I said, pointing down suddenly when I saw that Janie was now tracking wet footsteps on the street. “You pissed yourself.”

  She flipped me off. “Fuck you.”

  “No, really.” I pointed. “Look.”

  She frowned and looked down, then frowned.

  “One would think they’d feel it if they had fluid running down their legs,” she said laughingly.

  I rolled my eyes.

  “You never could do anything right.”

  ***

  Fourteen hours later

  “Pleassseeeee,” Janie whined.

  I flipped her off.

  As per our norm.

  “I refuse to stay.”

  Rafe snorted.

  “You, no helping.” Janie pointed at Rafe.

  “Shiloh offered to stay,” I whined right back. “Why can’t she?”

  “Because Shiloh doesn’t know me like you know me,” she countered.

  I rolled my eyes to the stupid white-tiled ceiling and snorted when I saw the mirror up there.

  “But, Janie,” I growled. “I don’t want to see your vagina. I especially don’t want to see your vagina when something is about to exit it. I draw the line at this. What if you poop? I really don’t want to see that!”

  “Then you distract Rafe so he doesn’t see it. It’s the rule of best friends. If one poops, the other distracts the man she eventually wants to sleep with again. We have a pact!” Janie pointed her finger at me accusingly.

  I sighed. “Whatever.”

  Janie fist pumped like a five-year-old, and I stood next to Rafe.

  “If she poops, you act like you never saw it. Got it?” I whispered to Rafe.

  Rafe bumped my shoulder. “You’re good to her.”

  I shrugged. “She’s good to me, too. We made this pact when we were twelve. There are a whole bunch of stupid rules. Such as, if she has a kid, I have to have one, too. Two years max. That way they can grow up to be best friends.”

  “What else does this pact entail?” he asked, watching as the nurses flurried around the room as they got ready for Janie to push.

  Janie was pumped up on the good drugs, and she didn’t care at all that she was open for God and country to see her hoo-ha.

  And honestly, I didn’t really care that I was seeing it.

  We had a very open friendship. There wasn’t a thing about her that I hadn’t seen before, and vice versa.

  We hadn’t gone as far as to actually do anything with each other—neither one of us swung that way, and Janie had a thing for Rafe way before we were that curious. Sometimes people looked at us and wondered if we were, indeed, lesbians.

  Not that we did anything to discourage their thoughts.

  Sometimes it was easier to allow them to think what they wanted rather than dissuade them of their illusions.

  It also served our purpose. If they thought we were lesbians, then they left us alone. Plain and simple.

  Since we were young—fifteen—Janie has literally had a thing for Rafe. She’d wanted him since she was old enough to realize what it was that she was feeling.

  Me? I just plain hadn’t found anyone I liked.

  Or wanted to be with.

  One day I would, but until that day came, I’d just continue being comfortable alone.

  “What else?” I asked. “I have to be your child’s godmother. If anything ever happens to her and you, I have to be her new mother. I’m to come over to the house three out of seven days a week at least and help her. There’s way more and…”

  “Oh my God!” Janie screamed. “There’s a fucking mirror up there!”

  I started to laugh.

  “Can I film this?” I asked.

  Janie shrugged. “I wouldn’t mind watching it. You may.”

  I rolled my eyes and pulled out my phone, but Rafe took it from me and shoved it into his pocket. “I don’t want her vagina on your phone. One day she’ll piss you off, then you’ll make a YouTube video of her and post it.”

  “I would never!”

  Rafe ignored my obvious lie, then moved to the head of the bed where he started to whisper something in Janie’s ear.

  The doctor took his place between her legs, and then she started to push.

  Two hours later, I was still standing exactly where I was when all of this started, and I was wondering how much longer this could possibly go on.

  “She’s like a yo-yo,” I said. “You push, her head comes down, then goes right back up.”

  Janie moaned.

  “I don’t think I can do this,” Janie cried, fat tears dripping down her cheeks.

  I stared at her. “Don’t be a pussy.”

  Janie flipped me off, and Rafe looked at me like I’d lost my mind.

  “I’m trying!” she wailed, wiping tears away from her face.

  “You’re being a pussy,” I countered. “Start pushing like we all know you know how to push. Seriously, you’re so fucking good at pushing our buttons. Pushing your nose into places it doesn’t belong. Pushing me when I don’t want to be pushed. Pushing your luck. We all know you have this in you.”

  I knew it without a doubt.

  Janie just needed that extra little nudge.

  Which she had now.

  Narrowing her eyes, she curled up and started to push.

  This time the baby’s head didn’t slide back in after it popped out.

  This time, she came out and stayed out.

  Janie bellowed. “Oh my God. My cooter!”

  I started to snicker and pulled my phone out of my pocket.

  I’d gotten it back from Rafe for this exact moment.

  I pulled up my camera and started to record.

  “Jesus Christ. I can’t feel it anymore! Is my cooter okay?” Janie roared.

  I couldn’t help it. I started to laugh so hard that I was sure that my video would be impossible to watch for people with extreme motion sickness.

  “Yes,” the doctor said, clearly not bothered by my best friend’s mouth. “Your vagina is fine. Her entire head is out.”

  Rafe looked down and didn’t say a word, but I saw a sheen of white cross his features before he popped his head back up to look at Janie’s face.

  I, on the other hand, was utterly fascinated.

  “Reach your hand down there and feel her,” I told Janie.

  Janie did so, and her eyes rounded in shock. “I’ve never had anything this big
in my cooter before.”

  I winced and looked at Rafe, who was shaking his head.

  “Your cooter will be okay,” I told her. “I promise.”

  “It had better be, or you’re going to go with me to get plastic surgery. I can’t have a flappy cooter,” she told me bluntly.

  The nurse beside me choked on her own spit, and I snorted.

  “Push, dammit. I’m ready to meet her.”

  Janie did the moment her next contraction hit, and her shoulders were delivered.

  Janie said a slew of more curse words, and then the baby was suddenly there.

  “Can I cut the cord?” I requested.

  Janie nodded.

  “No!” Rafe said. “Jesus. This is my kid, not yours.”

  I shrugged and allowed Rafe to cut the cord.

  The jerk.

  “Can I hold her first, at least?” I begged.

  Janie was steadily laughing as she clutched the slimy, slippery, rather nasty-looking child that had just shot out of her vagina to her chest.

  She didn’t seem to care that the baby was dirty, either.

  I guess it was because those were her fluids.

  There was a fine line in our friendship, though.

  I didn’t pop pimples on her ass, and I didn’t touch any bodily fluids that came from below the belt.

  Though, there was this one time that she popped a pimple on the back of my thigh…

  “God,” Rafe shook his head in disgust. “Y’all are horrible. I don’t know why I deal with y’all.”

  I batted my eyes at him playfully. “Because you love us. And you know that Janie loves me, so you’ll never let me go.”

  Rafe’s eyes went intense. “Remember that if you ever try to leave.”

  I felt a shot of fear shoot through me for a short moment, and then a rush of warmth.

  I liked that my best friend had that. I really, really did.

  And, while their new, little family was greeting their newest addition, I pulled out my big camera—my Nikon D4S—and started to snap away.

  I’d been doing that periodically throughout the day, and my smile lit my face as I started to scan back through the photos.

  Once I was sufficiently satisfied with what I captured, I waited for the new parents to give up the baby—which they did moments later when the nurse explained that they needed to get the baby’s APGAR—whatever the fuck that was.

  I steadily took more photos, getting almost giddy as I thought about all the great shots I had to play around with in Photoshop later.

  Rafe sidled up beside me as I was taking pictures of her toes and said, “Thank you for getting her through that.”

  I took one last photo before I looked up at him.

  His eyes were wide, sincere, and full of love.

  “You’re welcome.” I winked. “I don’t think I could stand it if she left me. I’m not sure if you fully understand the relationship you’ve entered into.”

  He grinned. “No, likely not. But I’m gonna one day. And when that day comes, I’ll thank you again.”

  I winked at him. “Or you might just kill us.”

  Rafe burst out laughing, and that woke the baby up, who started to cry with a vengeance.

  I started taking pictures of that, too.

  “So, what’s her name? I can’t call her ‘hey, you’ for the rest of her life.” I paused. “Well, I probably could, but she might not like it in a few years when she can finally understand that she wasn’t loved enough to be given a real name.”

  Rafe snorted, as did the nurses.

  One nurse, in particular, picked up the little girl and bundled her up in a swaddle so awesome that I was honestly jealous.

  “Do you think you could do that to an adult?” I questioned. “I’ve always wanted to be a human burrito.”

  “I guess we could always try later,” she offered.

  And that was how, three hours later, I found myself wrapped up beside Janie.

  “You’re not going to leak any fluids on me, are you?” I questioned.

  She snuggled into me, pressing her ass against Rafe’s head who was leaned back in the recliner next to us.

  “No,” she paused. “At least I don’t think so.”

  I giggled.

  “I don’t think I can do this by myself,” she whispered.

  I pressed my face against her hair since it was the only thing I could move, then whispered into her ear, “You remember that pregnancy pact that we made when we were younger?”

  Obviously not quiet enough, because Rafe started laughing.

  “Yeah,” Janie sounded tired, but she was also glowing.

  “I’m never, ever, ever having a baby,” I told her. “You just persuaded me that sex isn’t worth it.”

  Janie started to laugh, then pulled my hair, causing me to screech.

  “You have two years to keep our pact,” she ordered, pointing her finger at my face. “We always said that the other person would get pregnant within two years so that our kids could be best friends!”

  I grunted. “You would be okay with sharing your husband’s sperm with me?”

  I looked at Rafe, who had suddenly stopped laughing.

  “Hey, I never heard that part of the agreement,” Rafe started to object.

  Big, bad, scary Rafe wasn’t so scary when he was faced with the prospect of having to father a child with a woman that wasn’t his wife.

  Go figure.

  Hours after that, when visiting hours were finishing up and the only ones left were me, Janie, Rafe, new baby Abrielle, and Janie’s father, James, Janie and I sat on the couch with our heads pressed to James’s chest. We were all staring at Rafe across the room trying to change Abrielle’s diaper.

  “He looks lost,” I told Janie.

  Janie reached for some of James’ fries that he’d brought to eat since he’d just gotten off shift.

  “We’re all lost, honey,” James replied. “I thought I was going to fuck up y’all’s lives so many times. Dougie made me promise that I wouldn’t.”

  Anytime James talked about my father, it was bittersweet.

  But it was also something I soaked up like a sponge.

  I had very little memory of my father. He died while he was on a mission, and James had been with him at the time.

  I loved hearing about my dad. I loved hearing the stories that he and his unit—made up of Sam, Max, Gabe, Jack, Elliott, and James—got up to. I loved the good stories, and the bad.

  I especially loved the ones that had me in it.

  Janie giggled. “You haven’t fucked up our lives, Dad.”

  “No,” I agreed. “You haven’t. You should get a sticker.”

  James snorted.

  “Sometimes, you are so much like your father that it hurts.”

  I stole his last chicken nugget and popped it into my mouth, causing him to roll his eyes.

  “You used to steal your father’s chicken nuggets like that,” he teased. “Then mine. I guess I should’ve known and brought double.”

  I shrugged and chewed.

  And smiled when Rafe started to curse. “How do you get it out of all these folds?!”

  Chapter 4

  Life is soup, and I’m a fork.

  -Yes, it’s that bad

  Parker

  “I don’t know why you make me come to this,” I said, sounding as disgruntled as I felt. “You know they hate me. I should be sitting in the section that my nephew managed to grab tickets in.”

  Sterling, my best friend who I met during my Navy SEAL days, ignored me. Instead, he continued packing shit into his bag.

  “And swear to God, if those kids of theirs accidentally spill their beers on me again, I’m going to lose my shit,” I continued as if he’d agreed with my assessment.

  “Listen,” Sterling said. “Y’all are literally going to be like thirty seats apart. I got the entire fucking row. And my seats are bet
ter than the ones Gunner got you, and you know it.”

  That was true.

  Gunner was still new to the game. He’d only been picked up by the Lumberjacks last season. Not that he had even played yet. This would be his first game actually stepping into the batter’s box and attempting to swing in the big leagues. Though that was due to the Lumberjacks’ first baseman, Manny Star something or other, pulling a hamstring.

  But that was life, and unfortunately for Manny but fortunately for Gunner, he was ready and able to step in.

  I didn’t normally go to the games.

  Not with the Dixie Wardens MC in attendance.

  The MC was a brotherhood of bikers, and I’d hurt one of their own. I’d been a kid when I did it, and Loki hadn’t even been part of the MC at the time. But he was a member now, and they knew I’d harmed him.

  Hence the reason I tried to stay away whenever they were near.

  I always feared for my life when they were around. As if I’d turn around at any given time and find one of them ready to stab me in the back.

  “You ready?”

  I nodded.

  While I waited for him to say goodbye to his wife and children, I made my way outside to my truck.

  I’d be giving Sterling a ride to the field then running a few errands in town while I could.

  I’d been living in Hostel, Texas for about eleven months now.

  It was purely a coincidence that my nephew got picked up by the Longview Lumberjacks last year.

  I’d been worried about him. Understandably. So I was glad that he wasn’t too far away. Meaning I could drop in on him and make sure he wasn’t too far gone like he had been for the first year after Jett’s death.

  There’d been a time that I’d really been scared for him. Scared of what he might do when nobody was paying attention.

  “Yo,” Sterling said. “We leaving or what?”

  I flipped him off, but unlocked the doors to my truck anyway and got in. He followed suit, and shortly we were heading down the road to the field.

  “You’re quiet.”

  I shrugged.

  “You still worried about Gunner?”

  I nodded. “Not sure I’ll ever stop,” I admitted, the fear for my sister’s son adding a slight shake to my voice.

  Despite not spending much time with him during his childhood thanks to being in the Navy, I’d more than made up for it in his early and late teen years.