“Yeah,” I say.
“So, it’s Ray’s fiancée’s friend who you’re with now? And Beth is her name?”
I hesitate for a moment, and I feel, even across the phone lines, Alexa’s perception of that hesitation. Sixteen years is not nothing, and regardless of what we weren’t able to do together, she knows how to read me.
“Yeah,” I say, eventually. “Beth.”
“Tony…” Alexa begins. “Are you…is she…is there a reason why you’re with her, other than that Holly’s out of town?”
“Well…” I begin.
She waits for me to continue, but I have no idea what to say. Part of me wants to confide in her, to tell her about the utter chaos in my heart right now. But like she said, I still don’t know what the relationships are. What our relationship is. I don’t know if we can be friends like that yet.
Someday, maybe. But in the midst of all this confusion, I don’t think that day is now.
“Should I be worried about you?” Alexa asks.
“I don’t know,” I say, honestly. “I’ll keep you posted.”
She laughs uneasily. “Do you want to tell me about the medical situation?”
“Yeah, if you don’t mind. I…I think everything’s going okay, but I just want to be sure.”
“All right. Shoot.”
I tell her everything that’s happened and she listens carefully, interrupting now and then to ask questions. When I finish, she confirms that it sounds like a solid plan.
“That’s reassuring,” I tell her. “It’s been a long day, and I stayed out of all the decisions, but it’s good to know things went down as they should.”
“I’d say so,” Alexa tells me. “I’d also say, for the record, that I want you to be careful. Okay, Tony? Be careful with your heart. It’s been kicked around enough, and I should know.”
I laugh grimly. “I’ll do my best. Thank you, Alexa.”
“Anytime.”
We hang up and I go back into Beth’s room. She’s sleeping fitfully, tubes sticking out of her arms, the fetal monitor still attached to her belly. They’ve let her change into her own clothes, at least, and the bright red shirt she’s wearing is a flash of color in the otherwise drab room. I sit in the chair beside her and listen to the whir and beep of the machines that surround her bed.
It’s unnatural, seeing her like this. Secured to the bed like a lion held down with ropes. Alexa used to talk at length about how Labor and Delivery units in hospitals disempower women, how they make them feel that their bodies are incompetent to the task of delivering their babies without medical help. Not that medical help isn’t required sometimes; in Beth’s case there’s certainly a reason for it. But the overall effect of all the machinery and white coats is to make women feel like it’s the doctors who are in control of their laboring, and their first days of mothering, too.
All day I’ve watched Beth negotiate that tension. In the midst of her fear for the baby, she’s fought to stay in charge of herself, to carefully weigh the medical advice she’s receiving while still retaining her sense of humor and strength.
Now that the crisis appears to have passed, I know she’ll want to get out of here and go home as soon as possible. To eight weeks of bed rest, or as far as she can make it without going into genuine labor. It’s hard to picture her staying still for that long.
She takes a sudden deep breath in the bed and shifts toward me, trying no doubt to find a comfortable position, but she doesn’t wake.
I study her face in the dim light. Her thick lashes, the soft curve of her mouth. Her dark hair.
She told the hospital staff that I’m the father of her baby, and so I went ahead, all day, and acted like I was. I kept waiting for it to feel strange, to feel like I was playacting and didn’t really belong here. But that feeling never came. The truth is, I was scared for her. I wanted to be here, to make sure she was okay. To make sure the baby was okay.
I was even glad—and I know this is wrong—that Holly was not here. That it got to be me who Beth turned to. Because otherwise, she might not ever have let me see this part of her.
Something happened between us last night. Something deeper than either of us was planning for. I don’t know what I was thinking when we started—that we’d get it out of our systems? That by breaking the glass of what I imagined sex would be like with her, I’d somehow break the spell?
It didn’t happen. I slammed against that glass and I’m the one that got broken.
Yes, it was hot. Physically, it was the most electrifying experience of my life. But it was more than sex. It was getting to know Beth—the full depth and spectrum of her passion, her power. Her beauty.
It was letting her see me, as well. And feel me. And know me. It was scary as hell, to be honest. For both of us.
If this morning had gone differently, if she’d woken up and felt fine and nothing had happened with the baby, she would have gotten up before I woke, and she would have left. In my heart, I know that. She would have set me aside and shut me out. Because this kind of intimacy is not what she wants. She told me that, right from the beginning.
It’s selfish of me to want more from her, especially right now when she needs all her energy for motherhood. And even though I’m glad I was able to be here, to be her friend and partner during this raw, intense day, I have no intention of behaving selfishly once she leaves here. If there’s one thing I know how to do, it’s concealing what I want. Beth helped me understand that, but she doesn’t have to be the person who deals with the sloppy process of me trying to change it. Not now anyway. She has enough on her plate at the moment.
In the morning, Holly will be here. And I will go home and try the best I can to deal with the fallout of these past few days. I’ll be Beth’s friend, moving forward. I’ll do my best not to screw that up.
But God, it’s going to be difficult.
I breathe out, hard, and she stirs again. This time, her eyes open, and when she sees me, she smiles.
“Tony.” Her voice is scratchy, sleep-addled. My heart hollows out at the sound of it.
“Hi,” I say.
She reaches for my hand.
Her eyes close again, so I close my eyes, too. And fall asleep with her fingers wrapped in mine.
—
After a night of fitful sleep, interrupted by nurses coming and going, checking on Beth’s monitor, I wake fully to Holly standing by Beth’s bed. She’s balancing a cardboard tray of coffees in one hand and a canvas bag in the other, and she’s looking at me strangely.
“Hi, Tony,” she whispers.
I sit up abruptly and realize that I’m still holding Beth’s hand.
Shit.
I shut my eyes for a moment, and then I bring Beth’s hand up to her side on the bed and gently release it.
“Hey, Holly.”
I rise and offer her my chair, but she just stands there and shakes her head slowly.
“Is she okay?” she asks, finally.
“Yeah.” I scrub a hand over my face and try to will myself more awake. Holly silently hands me a cup of coffee.
“Thanks,” I say. “I appreciate it.”
“Ray said you drink it black.”
I nod and take a welcome sip.
“Really.” I move awkwardly around to the foot of the bed. “Have a seat. You must have traveled all night. I’ll give you the update since you last talked to her, okay?”
Holly nods and sets the coffee down on a wheeled table. “Yeah, but it’s okay. I slept a little on the plane.” She looks me over. “How are you holding up?”
“Good.” I move to stand on the other side of the bed so she can sit. “I’m fine. Beth’s probably going to be released today. The doctor came by last night and said if she didn’t have any more serious contractions, they’d send her home on bed rest and have her monitor things on her own from there.”
“That’s great,” Holly says, sitting. “I was…” She looks at Beth, covered in wires and tubes, and winces. “I
was scared to death.”
“Yeah.” I breathe in. “I was, too.”
She looks at me then, and her eyes soften. “You really saved the day, Tony. I don’t know what we would have done if you hadn’t been here.”
I shrug. “She would have called another friend, I’m guessing? Or maybe come here on her own?”
“Maybe. But you’re…you’re family. So…”
I smile at that. “Let me see that ring, by the way.”
Holly grins and holds out her hand. “Ray didn’t show it to you?”
“Sure he did,” I say, admiring it. “I helped him pick it out. But I haven’t seen it on you yet. It looks beautiful.”
Holly’s eyes shine. “Thank you.”
“Are you showing your engagement ring to Tony before you show it to me?” Beth opens her eyes and yawns. “That is not right.”
“Beth!” Holly stands and hugs her as tightly as she can around all the machinery. “Are you okay? How do you feel? I’m so sorry I wasn’t here!”
“Whoa there,” Beth says, laughing. “Slow down. Show me that rock and then we’ll talk.”
Holly pulls back and waggles her fingers.
“Keep still, you dolt.” Beth takes her hand and moves it this way and that, so that the diamond sparkles. “Goddamn, that’s pretty.”
Holly beams and sits back down on the chair. “Do you want some coffee? Are you still allowed to have that?”
“One a day,” Beth says, reaching for her cup on the table. “Believe me, I checked.” She sips the coffee and sighs. “Have I told you lately that I love you?”
Holly smiles. “So, are you okay? Are you hurting?”
“I’m a little stiff, just from lying here all day. But I’m all right. Now that things have officially died down, I wish you’d stayed in Niagara Falls. I feel bad messing up your engagement trip.”
“Please don’t. It’s a small place. Four days there was great, but we’re all happy to come home. Drew was missing Alice anyway.”
“I called Beth’s co-worker Kathleen,” I tell Holly. “She went over and took Alice for a couple walks yesterday while we were here.”
“That’s great.” Holly looks up at me and smiles. “Thank you.”
Beth reaches for Holly’s hand. “It’s good to see you. I’m going to need your company for the next eight weeks.”
Holly’s eyes widen. “That’s a long time to stay in bed. What are the parameters, exactly? What can you not do?”
“Well, I can’t work, for one thing. We’ll see how that goes over. I can start my maternity leave early, but they’re only paying me half time, and just for six weeks, so I don’t really know what that’s going to mean for my bank account.”
Holly rolls her eyes. “As if I’m going to let you worry about that.”
“Come on, now—” Beth begins.
But Holly holds up a hand. “Stop. You’re not going to think about it, and that’s that. What else does bed rest mean?”
Beth shakes her head. “We’re not done with that conversation, but anyway, it means limited walking, but unless it happens again or gets worse, I can still get up to go to the bathroom and everything. I can make food. I just have to lie down as much as possible.”
Beth glances at me for a second, and then looks away. “And no sex. Not that, uh…not that that’s going to be an issue.”
Holly’s eyes move from Beth to me, but she doesn’t say anything.
After a few seconds, Beth continues. “I hope I don’t lose my mind. But I mean, whatever it takes, I’ll do it. That was really scary, Holly.”
Holly squeezes her hand, and inches the chair closer.
I clear my throat. “How about I…you know, head out. Let you two catch up.”
I look in Beth’s eyes, only for a moment, and the flash of feeling there grips me right in the chest. She covers it quickly, though, and I back away.
“Ray is at your place, Holly?”
“Y-yeah,” she says, and starts to rise, but I hold up a hand.
“You don’t have to get up. I’ll…I’ll see you both soon. Okay? Beth, I…”
I don’t know what to say.
Thank you?
I’m an idiot, and I’m sorry, but I love you?
I let out a breath. “Just…take care, okay?”
“Tony…” she says.
But I can’t let her finish. “I’ll see you.”
I turn and walk out the door.
And make it about ten feet before I have stop and brace myself against the nearest wall.
“Beth,” I hear Holly say. “What was that?”
I don’t wait for her answer. However she characterizes our days together to Holly, there’s no way it will be what I want her to say.
That she’s falling in love with me, like I am falling in love with her. That she wants me as much as I want her.
If this were about another woman, and Beth were giving me advice, I know she’d tell me to be honest about that. To say what I want.
But I can’t do that to her right now. I can’t make her worry about my feelings when what she really needs to do is focus on herself. On the baby. On making it through these next eight weeks until Micah can be born safely.
After that, it will be all about him. About Beth finding her way as a new mother. As it should be. The last thing either of them needs is me hanging on the fringes, wanting something Beth can’t give.
The safest thing to do would be to think of her like a close family friend. After all, now that Ray and Holly are getting married, that is what she is. And with everything she’s facing in her life right now, that is all she can be.
As much as it hurts—and God, why does it hurt so much?—I can set aside my own complicated feelings. And just support her.
And hope that in time the ache gets easier.
Chapter 14
Beth
The weeks pass slowly on the couch in my living room. I rewatch all five seasons of Six Feet Under. I read Anna Karenina. Holly visits, bringing Drew along with her. We do mandala coloring books and eat ice cream. A few times, the contractions have come back, and I’ve had to go back to the hospital to be checked again. But while my cervix is effacing slightly, it’s not dilating, and true labor, thank God, has not started. I’m nearing the safe zone of thirty-seven weeks now.
Fall is advancing toward winter. Through my window, I watch the trees change color and drop to the ground, and I try not to think too much about Tony.
I didn’t want Holly to know about what happened between us, but when she came to the hospital, I was too strung out to conceal it. I told her everything.
“Do you have…feelings for him?” she asked. I couldn’t tell if she was horrified or hopeful.
And I didn’t know how to answer. Of course I have feelings for Tony. It’s just that I have no idea what to do with them.
We honored our agreement to scale back once Holly and Ray came home, and we haven’t seen each other since the hospital. But we didn’t cut off contact. I couldn’t do that, after all we’d been through together. Instead, we’ve tried to be friends, and so far, from a distance, we’re doing okay. He emails me at least once a day—long, funny missives about his daughters and his redoubled efforts to rescue his store. Every night we talk on the phone before bed.
He finally relented to Ray’s steady persuasion and accepted some lottery money for the store renovation. He took me on a Skype tour of the aisles, showing me his inventory and presentation, and I’ve offered my advice on changes, since my clientele at Terra Firma is not too far off from the people who have moved into Astoria. Urban customers might be slightly more polished, but the principles are pretty much the same. What this group wants is artisanal, organic, locally sourced, or European-made products. Higher-end appliances. Handmade candles and baskets. And they expect to pay higher prices, which should help.
It’s easier when we talk about work, or about what books I’ve been reading. When he asks how I’m feeling, I don’t know what
to say.
I lie here on the couch for hours, feeling the baby move around, trying to picture what he’ll look like, what it will feel like to hold him in my arms or comfort him when he cries.
I remember Drew when he was a baby. I was afraid to touch him, to be honest. Afraid to drop him on his head by accident and crack him like an egg. I don’t know if it will be worse or better with my own child.
I dutifully went, by car and wheelchair, to the childbirth and breastfeeding classes at the hospital, but I still don’t know what the hell I’m doing. I have no idea what kind of mother I’ll be.
Holly and Mom brought the baby shower to me two weeks ago. It was small but sweet, with only my closest friends and family. I have a co-sleeper to attach to my bed now, for Micah’s first few months, and a crib in his room. Holly and Ray put the rest of the furniture in—a bookcase filled with board books, a changing table, a rocking chair. A box of the world’s tiniest diapers.
I’ve got everything I could possibly need for the baby. I should be ready.
But when Tony asks me how I’m feeling, ready is not the word that comes to mind.
What I feel, if I’m honest, is sad.
I miss him.
I get his letters, I hear his voice on the phone, and I think, It’s not enough. I want more of him than that. I want him here with me through all of this, and it’s selfish and cruel of me to want that.
It must be that I’m lonely. I have visitors of course, but at the end of the day, they go home, and I’m left watching dust motes swirl through stray rays of late-day sunlight. With the whole night ahead of me, and the endless silence of an empty apartment.
I was never a person who minded solitude before. I welcomed it. I wanted it. I wasn’t afraid of being alone.
And it’s not that I am now. I know that I’m fine on my own.
It’s just that in these long, quiet moments, my spinning mind lands on one place, always. On one person.
I think of Tony—his smile, his smell, his gentleness. And I want him. I want him to be here with me.
Just Give Me a Reason Page 14
