The Weight of Small Things

by Wood Emmons, Sherri

“Oh my God!” Corrie whispered. “Is that why you left Paul?”

  Bryn nodded again.

  “So . . . so what are you going to do?”

  “I’m going to have a baby,” Bryn said.

  “Wow.” Corrie sat back in her chair, staring at her friend. “Just . . . wow.”

  “I know.” Bryn grinned. “Crazy, right?”

  “Are you sure?”

  “What?”

  “Are you sure you’re pregnant? I’ve had times I thought I was . . .”

  “Yeah, I’m sure. I’m positive. I took a test. And then I took another one. And then I took another one. I figure three can’t all be wrong. Plus, I’m puking my guts out all the time and my boobs hurt like hell. So yeah, I’m sure.”

  “Does Paul know?”

  Bryn nodded. “I wasn’t going to tell him, but Bob told me I had to.”

  “Bob knows?”

  Bryn nodded again.

  “Oh.” Corrie’s voice was small.

  “I was going to tell you first,” Bryn said, reaching for Corrie’s hand. “But you’ve been kind of preoccupied, and then you went to L.A., and now . . . well, now you know.”

  “I’m sorry,” Corrie said, squeezing Bryn’s hand. “I should have been here for you.”

  “It’s okay,” Bryn said. “I’ve only known a couple weeks. And now you know. And I’m going to need so much help. I mean, God, Corrie, I . . . I’m really scared.” Her voice trailed away.

  “You can so do this!” Corrie spoke firmly. “And I will be here every step of the way. And so will Bob. And . . . and Sarah will be, too.”

  “Thanks,” Bryn said, smiling.

  “So what did Paul say?”

  “He told me he knew a good clinic.”

  Corrie squeezed her hand. “Did you think about that?”

  “I did at first. But, then . . . I don’t know. I guess then I realized it’s not just a theory. It’s a baby. And then I started thinking maybe this is my only chance, you know?”

  “I do know,” Corrie said softly.

  “I’m sorry,” Bryn said. “I know you want to get pregnant so much. I keep thinking it should be you.”

  Corrie’s eyes filled again, but she smiled. “Don’t worry about it,” she said. “I’m happy for you. A baby . . . wow!”

  “Yeah, a baby.” Bryn’s hand rested lightly on her stomach. “I still can’t believe it.”

  “So, you’re really done with Paul . . . for good this time?”

  Bryn nodded. “I don’t want anything from him,” she said firmly. “He is definitely not father material.”

  “Well, good!” Corrie’s voice was louder than she’d expected. “Sorry,” she said more softly. “I’ve waited a long time to hear you say that.”

  “Me too,” Bryn said. “I mean, I’ve waited a long time for you to be over Daniel.”

  Corrie’s shoulders slumped slightly. She sipped her wine.

  “So . . .” Bryn raised her glass to Corrie. “Here’s to new beginnings . . . for both of us!”

  They touched glasses and drank.

  “I love you, you know,” Bryn said.

  “I know. I love you, too.”

  “And you’re going to get through this.”

  Corrie nodded at her. “And so will you.”

  They sat in silence for a minute, each wrapped in private thoughts.

  “So,” Corrie said, “where are you going to live?”

  “Oh.” Now Bryn’s shoulders slumped. “I’m not sure. I mean, it’s great at Bob’s. But obviously I can’t stay there. He’s in the middle of a divorce and all.

  “Oh!” Bryn sat up straighter. “And speaking of that, you won’t believe what Wendy did.”

  She told Corrie about the picture Cody had brought home.

  “Oh my God!” Corrie gasped. “What is wrong with that woman?”

  “I don’t know,” Bryn said. “But at least Bob is finally being proactive. He took the picture to an attorney and he’s suing for full custody.”

  “Good!” Corrie said. “He definitely needs full custody. I mean . . . God, she’s just a loon, isn’t she?”

  “She is,” Bryn agreed. “But if Bob is going into a custody battle, I can’t be living in his house, right?”

  “Yeah,” Corrie said. “That probably wouldn’t look good. So . . . you can stay with Mark and me.”

  Bryn shook her head.

  “You guys are going to need some time,” she said. “You don’t need a houseguest right now.”

  “No,” Corrie said. “You can stay with us. You should stay with us.”

  Bryn simply shook her head again.

  “No,” she said. “I think it’s time, finally, for me to start taking care of myself. I mean, I’m thirty-two years old. I’m going to have a baby, for Christ’s sake. I need to learn to take care of things for myself.”

  “Well, the offer stands, always, if you need it.”

  “I know. Thank you.”

  “So, Bryn . . .” Corrie hesitated.

  “What?”

  “Do you have insurance?” Corrie’s brow furrowed.

  “Actually, I do,” Bryn said, smiling. “Thank God I do! Two years ago, when Paul and I were on the outs, I took out a policy. I figured, I was thirty, I probably should have something, just in case.”

  “Does it cover maternity?”

  “Yeah.” Bryn grinned. “Maybe I had a premonition or something. But I got a plan with maternity. So I’m set.”

  “Thank God!”

  “Thank Goddess,” Bryn said, laughing. “If I had a pregnancy premonition, I’m pretty sure it was from a goddess, right?”

  Corrie smiled, then leaned forward and hugged her tightly. “I really am happy for you.”

  “Thank you.”

  22

  Corrie paced the living room, willing herself not to pour a glass of wine. She needed to be clearheaded now, more than ever in her life. It was almost eleven and Mark wasn’t home yet, but he surely would be soon.

  Bryn is pregnant. She shook her head, fighting tears. Bryn is pregnant! God, that is just so . . . amazing.

  She thought back to all the nights in college when they had lain in bed talking about their futures. Corrie’s plans had always included children. Bryn’s had definitely not.

  Corrie sighed heavily. If only she’d had a baby, maybe she wouldn’t have gone to Los Angeles. Maybe she wouldn’t have felt what she did for Daniel. Maybe . . .

  She would write the story about the community center and then never think about Daniel again. Never! She would be the perfect wife to Mark. Maybe they could start pursuing an adoption. She would make it work.

  When she heard the garage door opening, she went into the bathroom and splashed cold water on her face.

  “Corrie?” Mark’s voice called from the hall. “Are you home?”

  “I’m here,” she said, walking into the kitchen.

  “I thought you weren’t coming until tomorrow.”

  “I changed my flight,” she said, smiling at him. “I missed you.”

  He simply looked at her for a long minute, then sat down at the breakfast bar.

  “So,” he said, his voice measured, “how was L.A.?”

  “Awful!”

  He glanced up at her. “Why?”

  “I shouldn’t have gone,” she said, sitting beside him at the bar. “You were right. I shouldn’t have gone. It was a mistake.”

  He simply sat silently.

  “Daniel is not who he used to be. Or maybe he is and I just didn’t see him for what he is before. He’s got a God complex, you know? I mean, the center is great and they are doing really good stuff. But in the end, it’s all about Daniel.”

  Mark got up and walked to the fridge. “Do you want a glass of wine?”

  She nodded, and he poured two glasses.

  “Why didn’t you tell me when he was here?” His voice was soft.

  “I should have,” she said. “I know I should have. I don’t even know why I didn’
t except . . . he still pushes my buttons. I mean, he’s here for five minutes and I’m questioning every choice I’ve ever made. I see myself through his eyes and I never measure up. I don’t know how he does it or why it still works, but it’s done now. All those years I wondered what my life would have been like if he’d stayed, and now I know it wouldn’t ever have worked.”

  Mark said nothing.

  “I’m really sorry,” Corrie whispered. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you before when he was here. And I’m sorry I worried you. And I’m really sorry I went out there.”

  “Do you still love him?” His voice was so low she could barely hear him.

  “No. I don’t.”

  She covered his hand with hers. “I love you, Mark. I love you and I love our life and I don’t ever, ever want to lose that or mess it up.”

  Mark smiled then, and Corrie felt a rush of tears welling in her eyes.

  “I missed you,” he said.

  “I missed you, too.”

  He stood and pulled her to her feet, wrapped her in a tight embrace, and kissed her cheek, her nose, her mouth.

  “Do you want something to eat?” she asked.

  “No,” he said, pulling her toward the stairs. “I want you.”

  For the first time in as long as she could remember, she let herself relax and enjoy her husband. After, they lay curled together, his arm wrapped tight around her.

  “I love you,” she whispered. But he was already asleep.

  She lay awake in the dark, quietly thanking God for Mark, for her home, for her life.

  “I promise, God,” she whispered, “I promise I’ll be a good wife. I’ll never mess up again. And I . . . just, thank you. Thank you, God. Thank you.”

  She fell asleep just before dawn, still curled against Mark’s sleeping body.

  23

  “Hey, Kenetha!” Corrie called as she walked into the offices of The Current.

  “Hey! How was California?” Kenetha followed Corrie into her office.

  “Eh.” Corrie shrugged. “It was okay, I guess.”

  “Just okay?” Kenetha grinned at her.

  “Yeah, just okay.” Corrie set a pile of folders on her desk. “I think it will be a good story, anyway.”

  “You had a bunch of phone calls yesterday.” Kenetha pointed to the phone on Corrie’s desk, its red light blinking frantically.

  Corrie sighed. “I’ll listen later. Right now, I’m going to write this article while it’s still fresh.”

  “Okay,” Kenetha said. “There’s coffee, if you want a cup.” Corrie turned on her computer and opened her email account, which quickly filled with messages. Most of them were from Daniel.

  She moved the messages to the trash folder and highlighted them, her finger poised on the delete button.

  She sighed again and opened the top email.

  Come on, Corrie, you can’t just ignore me forever. Please call me.

  She scanned through the rest of Daniel’s messages, each more pleading than the one before.

  I’m so sorry I hurt you. It’s the last thing I wanted to do. I love you. I’ve always loved you. Please come back and let me explain. Or I’ll come there. I have to see you.

  She squeezed her eyes closed, willing her stomach to settle. Then she took a deep breath and hit reply.

  Daniel, please don’t email me or call me or try to get in touch. What happened was a mistake, and I don’t want to even think about it, let alone talk about it. I let myself get caught up in old feelings that don’t have a place in my life anymore. I love my husband. I love my life. What you and I had was over a long time ago. If you ever cared about me at all, please, just let it go.

  She hit send and deleted Daniel’s messages. Then she poured herself a cup of coffee and sat down to write. Three hours later, the article was done. She read it over quickly, smiling at the quotes from Capri. Then she emailed the article and related pictures to her designer, deleted the photos from her camera, and leaned back in her chair, surveying her office. Maybe she would paint it again. The cream-colored walls were starting to look a bit dingy.

  “Hey, do you want to get lunch?” Kenetha stood in the doorway.

  “Sure,” Corrie said. “That sounds good.”

  Normalcy, she thought. That’s exactly what I need now, just normalcy .

  After work, she drove home, congratulating herself on getting through the day without falling apart. She pulled into the driveway and skidded to an abrupt stop. Standing on her front porch, Daniel raised his hand in greeting and walked toward the car. Corrie’s stomach lurched.

  She parked in the driveway and got out of the car, not looking into his face.

  “Hey, you,” he said softly.

  “What are you doing here?”

  “When I didn’t hear back from you, I just . . . I needed to come and make sure you’re all right.”

  “I’m fine,” she said firmly.

  “Corrie-Andy.” His voice was pleading. “Just talk to me, okay? I just want to talk.”

  “Go home, Daniel.” She raised her eyes to his, willing her voice to stay flat. “Go back to Los Angeles and leave me alone.”

  “I can’t.” He reached for her hand, but she pulled back, edging toward the front door.

  “Well, then go to Bob’s. Go to New York. Go to hell. I don’t care where you go, just go away!”

  “You don’t mean that,” he said, his blue eyes wide. “We still love each other. We belong together. I know I messed up before, but . . . but don’t I get a second chance? Don’t we deserve a second chance?”

  “It was a mistake,” Corrie said, staring him steadily in the face. “I messed up. I let myself get caught up in old, unresolved feelings. But we don’t belong together, Daniel. We never did, really. We don’t get another chance.”

  “But . . .” He reached for her arm, and she pulled away again.

  “I don’t love you,” she said. “I don’t love you and I don’t want to be with you. I love my husband. I love Mark.”

  “If you loved Mark, you wouldn’t have made love to me. You couldn’t have. I know you, Corrie. I know you better than anyone else ever will. You couldn’t make love to me if you didn’t still love me. That’s not who you are.”

  Corrie shook her head firmly. “The girl who loved you is gone. She died when you left and she’s never coming back.”

  She stepped onto the porch, fumbled for her key.

  “Go back to California and leave me alone.”

  “Corrie, wait!”

  She slid into the house, locking the door behind her. She leaned against the door, willing him to leave.

  “Corrie!” He banged on the door. “Please come out and talk to me.”

  She slumped to the floor, shaking, waiting. After a long time, the banging stopped. Peeking from behind the curtain, she saw Daniel walk to a car parked at the curb, get in, and drive away.

  “Please, God,” she begged, “please let him go back to California. Please make him leave me alone. Please don’t let Mark find out what I did.”

  The phone in her purse startled her with a shrill ring.

  “Hello?”

  “Hey, babe!” Mark’s confident voice calmed her immediately. “I’m on my way home and I thought I’d stop at the store for some wine. Do we need anything else?”

  “No,” she said. “All I need is you.”

  She paced the floor for several minutes. Then she called Bryn. “Hey, how are you feeling?”

  “Ugh!” Bryn’s voice was hoarse.

  “Sick?”

  “Only all the time. How are you?”

  “Daniel was here.”

  “Shit! When? Is he there now?”

  “No, I made him leave. He was waiting on the porch when I got home from work.”

  “What did he say?”

  “That he loves me. That we belong together. That we deserve a second chance.”

  “Bastard!” Bryn spat. “What did you say?”

  “I told him that I don�
�t love him. I love Mark. And he needs to go back to L.A.”

  “Good! Good for you!” Bryn said. “Do you think he’s coming here?”

  “Probably. He doesn’t have a lot of friends in Middlebrook.”

  “Let him come! I’ll send him packing.”

  “Bryn, don’t!” Corrie’s voice rose. “Please don’t tell him you know.”

  “Why?”

  “Just, please don’t. The only thing I want is for him to go back to California. I don’t want a lot of drama. I can’t handle it. I just want things to be the way they were.”

  “Shhh,” Bryn whispered into the phone. “Someone’s at the door. I’ll bet it’s him.”

  Corrie waited.

  “What should I do?” Bryn asked.

  “Let him in, I guess. But please, Bryn, please don’t say anything to him about . . . us. Promise!”

  “Okay.” Bryn sighed. “I promise. But if he starts in about you, I’m going to kill him. I’ll call you tomorrow.”

  Bryn opened the door slightly and peered out. Before she could say a word, Daniel pushed the door open and walked into the house.

  “Where’s Bob?” he asked, looking around the room.

  “Picking the boys up from the sitter,” Bryn said. “What are you doing here?”

  “I could ask you the same thing.” Daniel sat on the couch and crossed his legs. “Why are you still here?”

  “I’m staying for a while, not that it’s any of your business.” Bryn sat across from him, folding her arms over her stomach.

  “Do you think that’s a good idea?” Daniel asked. “Bob’s going through a divorce, you know. It could get ugly. You could make it worse.”

  “Bob asked me to stay. I’m helping with the boys.”

  Daniel snorted.

  “And you haven’t answered my question,” Bryn spat. “What the hell are you doing here?”

  Daniel said nothing.

  “Fine,” Bryn snapped. “But you can’t stay here. The boys are living with Bob now, and I’m in the guest room.”

  Daniel only smirked at her.

  Bryn rose and stamped into the kitchen, where she had a beef stew simmering on the stove. God damn him!

  A few minutes later, the front door opened and bedlam ensued as the boys raced through the house, yelling and laughing.