Thank you.
As though I’d changed the oil in her car.
I’d be angry if she didn’t look so stricken.
Like I got under her skin.
As fully and irrevocably as she got under mine.
I don’t know if I should be proud of that.
Or if, like her, I should run.
Chapter 12
Beth
I lie in bed in my own room, alone, contemplating a dull ache in my lower back and wondering what the final months of pregnancy will feel like. If there will be more discomfort, more pain. Like in my heart, for example.
I hear Tony’s movements down the hall—water running, floorboards creaking, a gentle cough. They are sweet sounds, domestic sounds. Quiet and close.
Close enough that I could rise, at any time, and go to him. And he would welcome me, I know that. I also know that I hurt him by leaving tonight.
I didn’t mean to. If I’d been thinking clearly, I would have handled it more tactfully, more graciously. I wouldn’t have been so abrupt.
But I still would have had to leave. I couldn’t stay there with him in his bed and soften into sleep in his arms. It would send the wrong signal. A message of depth and permanence that neither of us can afford.
It scares me how much I wanted to, though.
I’ve never had trouble drawing lines in the sand with men. Each time I meet someone, I negotiate what the boundaries are going to be, and there are always boundaries. Sometimes it lasts a few days and sometimes a few months. But no man is leaving his toothbrush at my house under any circumstances. And I never allow sleepovers if there is any risk at all of long-range feelings developing.
Tony asked if I’d ever been in love, and this is why the answer is no. I end romantic entanglements at the first sign that they’re becoming serious.
It’s not that I’m scared of intimacy. I let Holly in without any hesitation, and my mother, too. It’s that I like my life exactly the way it is, and I don’t need the complications a long-term romantic relationship would bring to it. I don’t want to be worried about losing myself. I don’t want to constantly be defending my boundaries and advocating for my needs with another person who is relentlessly in my space. It’s exhausting, and not for me.
But I’m inviting those complications with Tony, and I know it. There were signs right from the beginning that this could spiral out of hand, and I should have heeded them. The way he looked at me. The way I couldn’t stop thinking about him.
We’re scheduled to end this a few days from now, when Holly and Ray return. We’ll have to go back to being friends, to near-relations, and that will be all we can give to each other. All that we are.
I shouldn’t be wanting to fall asleep in Tony’s arms now. I shouldn’t be making love to him, letting him make love to me, and then staying in his bed. Holding him, feeling him. Letting this go deeper.
It can’t go deeper. It shouldn’t.
There’s too much I need to think about right now, and maybe that’s why this is hitting me so hard. Maybe I’m scared about motherhood, and Tony is…What? A distraction?
If so, it is cruel of me to use him that way. He deserves a lot more than someone who’s only playing at commitment.
Because I know that’s what Tony wants. And needs, for that matter. A long-term partner who sees and accepts him—all of him. Not just the good-guy discipline, but the rawness and desire, too. The confusion and the need.
Someone who sees how beautiful all of that is. How beautiful he is.
I look up into the darkness of my room and remember the look on his face when I left him. The longing there.
Or the way he made me feel, first up on the mountain and then in his bed.
I never understood the term falling in love. It seemed stupid to me that you would lose control like that. That you wouldn’t fucking catch yourself.
But I see now how the ground shifts under you, how your own body leans into the slide. It’s not something you choose.
It chooses you, and you fall.
And I can’t. I just can’t let that happen, to either one of us. I’m already about to be somebody’s mother, and I know I’ll have to fight to not lose myself in that role. I can’t be fighting the pressures of couplehood at the same time.
I know that what I need to do is walk away. Having feelings for each other is only going to make that harder, for both of us. One of us needs to take control of the situation and stop it before it gets out of hand.
I turn to my side. The baby flutters in my belly, and in my lower back the dull ache returns, radiating outward. Crickets chirp and whir outside the window, and I will myself to get some rest.
I’ll need it tomorrow, when it’s time to tell Tony it’s over.
I don’t want to.
It’s sooner than we planned, and I’m not ready. But I think we both know that it can’t go on like this.
We’re in too deep, and we need to put a stop to it before one of us gets hurt.
I close my eyes and try not to think the obvious.
That it might already be too late.
—
When I open my eyes again, the house is silent. My back hurts, and there’s a tightening in my lower abdomen that at first I can’t place.
I wait in the darkness, trying to wake up and think through the confusion, but it passes, and I fall asleep again.
And wake up a few minutes later to the same almost-pain.
My whole belly is hardening, everything seizing. It doesn’t hurt exactly, but it doesn’t feel normal, either.
I sit up in bed and breathe until it passes.
I remember reading about Braxton Hicks contractions in my pregnancy book. How they start a few weeks before actual labor, almost like practice for the real thing. It seems early in the pregnancy for that to be happening. I look it up again on my phone to make sure, and read that they ease up if you drink a glass of water and walk around a little. Or take a bath and try to relax.
I go to the kitchen for a drink and walk quietly around the house. But another one comes, and then another. I run a warm bath and ease down into it. I even wash my hair, and sing to myself to calm down. But every ten minutes or so, my abdomen tightens up again. After an hour, they start to come more frequently.
I don’t want to do it, but eventually I go and wake Tony. I sit by the side of his bed, dawn light coming in through the window, and put my hand on his arm.
He bolts upright immediately.
“What is it? Are you okay?”
“I…I don’t know.” I shake my head. “I’m having these…I don’t know what they are. They feel like they might be contractions.”
He scrubs a hand over his face. “What do you mean? Are they…is it painful?”
“No. I mean, not really? It just gets kind of tight. Like, my whole belly. I don’t know what’s going on.”
“Are they…do you think they’re Braxton Hicks contractions?” he asks. “Have you read about those? I remember them happening with Alexa…but it was a lot later in the pregnancy than this.”
“Yeah, that’s what I thought, too, at first. But I’ve been walking around for two hours. I drank water and took a bath, but they’re not stopping.”
He moves the blanket aside, and I rise so he can stand. Then he goes to the corner of the room and starts rummaging in his suitcase for clothes.
“What time is it?” he asks. “Early still, right?”
“Yeah, it’s a little past seven.”
“And you’ve been up for two hours? I wish I’d been there to help, or at least sit with you.”
“I didn’t want to wake you.” I rise, but then abruptly sit back down. “Oh.”
“Are you having one?” He moves back and sits beside me.
“Yeah.” I take a deep breath and hold my belly in both hands. “God, it feels so weird. Like my insides are clenching up.”
Tony waits quietly beside me, watching my face. I’m not quite panicking yet, but I’m scared.
He takes my hand.
“Are you timing them, by any chance?”
I look back at him and nod slowly. “They’ve been every six or seven minutes for the past hour.”
A little flash of worry appears on his face and is quickly hidden.
“Okay,” he says, and holds my hand. “How many weeks are you again?”
“Twenty-nine.”
“Yeah.” He nods. “It’s pretty early for Braxton Hicks contractions, and they’re fairly regular. So, uh…I think we should go to the hospital.”
My eyes widen. “Really? I was afraid you’d say that.”
“Your water hasn’t broken or anything, right?”
I shake my head. “Not that I know of.”
“You’d probably know if it had. But that doesn’t always happen on its own, so…”
“You don’t think it’s actual labor, Tony, do you? Don’t real contractions hurt?”
“Yes, eventually. But listen…” He holds my hand more tightly. “Let’s just go, okay? To be safe. Let the doctor check you out and see what’s what. You have a doctor, right?”
I breathe out. “A midwife.”
“Okay, great. Can you call her and let her know you’re heading to the ER? I’ll drive you.”
He waits until I nod, and then he stands and takes off his T-shirt. He finds a pair of clean jeans in his suitcase and puts them on. When he turns back to the bed, I’m still sitting there, motionless.
“But I’m—” My voice falters. There’s a pitch to it that I don’t like but can’t seem to control.
Tony comes and kneels in front of me.
“Do you think something’s wrong?” I wipe at my eyes with both hands. “With the baby?”
“No,” he says firmly, and takes my hands in his. “We’ll go to the hospital and see what’s going on, okay? But the baby is going to be fine.”
I look into his eyes for a moment. I want to lean on him. To believe him.
“Have you had any bleeding?” he asks.
I shake my head.
“Okay, good. That’s good news. And you’re not in pain, so that’s positive, too.”
My belly tightens and I bend forward a little, squeezing his fingers.
“Again?” he asks.
“Yeah. Shit.”
“All right.” He holds my hands in his. “You’re doing great. Keep on breathing through it, exactly like that.” He waits with me until it passes, and then helps me stand.
“Can I pack a little bag for you? While you call your midwife?”
“No, that’s…I can do it. I’ll call her on speaker while I get some things together. Can you…will you stay with me, though?”
“Of course.”
I stop and turn into his arms. For just a moment. “Thank you.”
He gathers me against him and kisses the side of my hair. I have no idea what is appropriate or right in this situation, whether it’s all right to let him comfort me. To ask for that comfort.
I take a step back, uncertain, and go in search of my phone.
Tony follows me down the hall, car keys in hand, and waits while I make the call to the midwife’s office. It’s met by an answering service, but a few minutes and one more contraction later, she calls back and confirms that I should go to the hospital. Her voice calms me, so that when I hang up the phone I am steadier and more sure.
“Think we have time to brush our teeth?” I ask, zipping up my overnight bag.
“Let’s just bring our toothbrushes, okay?”
I nod and he goes to get them, taking my bag with him. “You have enough stuff for an overnight stay, just in case?” he says from down the hall. “I can always come back if you need more.”
“Yeah.”
It takes him a minute to find my toothpaste, and when he returns, I’m waiting at the front door with a thermos. “Coffee,” I say tightly, and put a hand up on the wall. He wraps a steadying arm around me.
“Thank you,” he says, and I sag a little against him while another contraction rolls over me. When it’s over, we walk carefully out to his car.
The streets are empty as we drive in the dawn light to the hospital. I try to breathe through my rising fear as Tony watches the road, and he watches me. Finally, he suggests we play a game.
“For distraction. Okay? An A-to-Z game.”
I nod and bite my lip through a new contraction.
“Inappropriate things to pack in your hospital bag. I’ll start. An anal probe.”
I laugh, despite myself.
“Your turn,” he says.
I grit my teeth, and breathe. “Ben Wa balls,” I say, finally, and Tony chuckles.
“Cock ring.”
“Dildo,” I say. “Obviously.”
Tony smiles and turns onto a two-lane roadway. “An egg salad sandwich. Don’t ask why.”
I groan. “I don’t want to know.”
We play the whole game through, and in fifteen minutes, we’re at the ER.
I signed up for a tour of the maternity ward here, and a package of childbirth and breastfeeding classes, but those are scheduled for a month from now. I’d assumed I’d have plenty of time left for things like that, but being here makes me feel like time has run out. Just walking in summons the Pavlovian effect I always experience at hospitals, even when I’m visiting someone else. The hospital is a place for sick people, and as soon as I arrive, I feel sick.
The smell of illness here pervades everything, and it’s only made worse by the sweet disinfectant they use to cover it up. That plus the hush of pacing medical personnel encourages a kind of helplessness, a passivity and dread, and the cold metallic surfaces don’t help, either.
At the front desk I am registered right away and taken to the intake room. The process is much faster than the last time I was here, when I sprained my ankle and needed an X-ray. I guess they prioritize pregnant women.
Once we sit down, the nurse glances first at my belly and then at Tony holding my hand.
“You’re the father?”
It occurs to me that if he says no, they won’t let him come back to the exam room with me. That thought fills me with a sudden panic.
“Yes,” I say quickly. Tony’s hand tightens briefly around mine, but to his credit, he doesn’t show any other reaction.
“So you think you’re having contractions?” She raises an eyebrow, but otherwise doesn’t look up from the paper she’s writing on.
“Well,” I begin, and almost falter at her dismissive tone. But then my belly seizes up again, and I shut my eyes tight and hold up a hand.
When I open them again, she’s watching me more carefully. She asks a long series of questions about my health history and allergies, measures my weight and height, and takes my blood pressure and pulse. Then she calls someone to bring us up to Labor and Delivery.
I put a hand on Tony’s arm. “I thought we’d stay in the regular ER.”
“It’s just where all the OBs are,” he says, and steps aside as an attendant in blue scrubs rolls in a wheelchair.
“I can walk,” I say, but the intake nurse insists. I sit awkwardly in the stiff seat, and the attendant rolls me down several hallways, with Tony following, to a bank of industrial-looking elevators.
We’re met in Labor and Delivery by a brisk nurse in mauve scrubs. She takes over the wheelchair, rolling me past a nursing station stacked with files, phones, and a stuffed teddy bear holding a box of chocolates.
At the end of the hall, I’m wheeled into a small room with a single counter and an exam table. The nurse cheerfully tells me to take my clothes off and put on a thin cotton gown. “Dr. Hamilton will be in to see you in a few minutes.”
When the door clicks shut behind her, Tony asks if I’d like him to wait outside while I change.
“That’s all right,” I tell him. “Maybe turn around, though.”
This probably sets a new record for the least sexy time I’ve ever taken my clothes off with a man in the room, although I had some encounters in college
that would give it a run for its money. It’s not lost on me that the last time I was naked with Tony, things played out a whole lot differently.
I can’t imagine what he’s thinking now. If I’d been worried about him developing complicated feelings, this certainly should nip that right in the bud. He’s gone from lover to nursemaid in the space of twelve hours, and even a man as generous as Tony would want to run for the hills.
“How are you holding up?” I ask him, and tie the thin robe together the best I can.
He helps me onto the exam table. “I should be asking you that. Are you okay?”
I sit back against the crinkly paper on the table and tuck the edges of the robe around my belly. “I guess so.” The contractions haven’t stopped, although they aren’t getting closer together or any more intense. Tony assures me that’s good news, especially since in between I can feel the baby moving.
I have been monitoring his movements all morning—tracking him with my hands. And talking to him, too, even now that Tony’s in the room with me and probably thinks I’m nuts.
“Stay in there, little guy, all right? It’s not time yet.”
Tony smiles and steps closer to the table. “Little guy, eh? Is that his official name?”
“No,” I say. “His official name is Bunny. I just call him LG when I’m issuing firm instructions.”
I can tell that Tony’s trying to distract me with small talk, but I go along with it gratefully. His brown eyes call me back into the soft space between us.
“Have you chosen a real name, though?” Tony asks.
I haven’t told anyone the baby’s name yet, although I decided what it would be a few weeks ago. I was waiting to share it at the shower Holly and my mom are throwing me in November.
Somehow it seems important, though, to say his name out loud today.
To make him solid. To keep him strong. With Tony as a witness.
“Micah,” I tell him, and he smiles.
“Micah,” he says.
And then the doctor comes in and introduces herself, and everything moves forward in a blur. She asks me about a hundred questions, most of them repeats of the ones asked at intake, and then observes me through a contraction, palpating my belly as it happens. Finally, she has me lie back on the table and put my legs in stirrups so she can check my cervix.
Just Give Me a Reason Page 12
