“Busted!” Bryn hissed.
“Never mind,” Bob said, walking into the kitchen. “It’s a word I shouldn’t have used. Now help me put these things away.”
Bryn returned to the living room with the coffeepot. “Want a refill?”
“No,” Corrie said, rising. “I’d better get home and start dinner.”
“Okay,” Bryn said, hugging her. “Thanks for coming. Thanks for listening.”
“Anytime,” Corrie said. “See you later, Bob.”
She drove home, frowning at the traffic. Why would Bryn even think of going back? Why couldn’t she see Paul for the self-absorbed jerk he was?
Probably for the same reason I slept with Daniel.
She shook her head. Weren’t they both smart, strong, educated women? How could they fall for such jerks?
She pulled into her driveway and smiled. Mums bloomed along the front porch, small explosions of red, yellow, and orange.
I love this house, she thought. I love my life.
“Thank you, God,” she said. “Thank you for . . . well, for everything.”
In the kitchen she turned the music up loud and sang slightly off-key as she made dinner. Then she showered and changed into a pretty green chemise, set the table, poured the wine, and waited for Mark to come home.
27
“What do you mean, you’ll date me?” Paul’s voice rose slightly on the phone.
Bryn smiled. “I mean just what I said. You want me back? Show me you mean it. Show me you can be the man I need you to be.”
“Come on, baby. You know I’m the man you need.”
“I’m not talking about sex, Paul.” Bryn’s voice was flat. “I mean, I need to see that you can be a grown-up. I need to see that you can be responsible and thoughtful and . . . I need to see if you can be like a real dad.”
“I told you, I talked to the university. And we can look at another apartment, if you want.”
“I know what you told me,” Bryn said. “But I need you to show me.”
Bryn smiled, hearing him sigh heavily.
“Okay,” he said, “so, what do you want to do?”
“I want you to ask me on a date, a real date. One where you plan something special, not just sitting at home getting stoned and watching TV.”
“So, like dinner and a movie?”
“That’s a start.”
“Okay, so do you want to go to dinner and a movie tonight?”
She smiled again. “I can’t tonight. Bob and I are taking the boys to see Kung Fu Panda.”
“Oh, you and Bob are going out. So, are you dating him, too?” Paul’s voice was sharp.
“No, Paul. I’m not dating Bob. He’s my friend and he’s been very good to me the last few weeks, and we are taking his kids to see a movie. It’s not a date.”
“Does Bob know that?”
Bryn laughed. “Seriously? Are you seriously asking me that? God, Paul, this is Bob we’re talking about. He’s married to Wendy, and I’m preggers with your kid. Does that sound terribly romantic to you?” She giggled again.
“Fine,” Paul said. “Then what about tomorrow? Are you free for dinner and a movie tomorrow?”
“Actually, I am.”
“Okay, then we’ll go tomorrow. What time should I pick you up?”
“Well, that pretty much depends on where we’re going, doesn’t it? Why don’t you make the plans and call me back.”
There was a long silence on the phone. Bryn smiled and stretched, yawning, on the couch.
“Fine,” he said again. “I’ll call you back.”
“You look pretty pleased with yourself.” Bob walked into the room, carrying a book and his glasses.
“It’s kind of nice,” Bryn agreed.
“Just be careful,” he said. “That guy has hurt you way too much in the past. I don’t want to see him do it again.”
Bryn just smiled. “What are you reading?”
Bob held the book toward her, so she could see the title: Helping Your Kids Through Your Divorce. “My attorney recommended it.”
“So, have you filed papers?”
“Not yet.” Bob sat down in the lounge chair and put on his glasses. “But he’s got everything he needs from me. So, he should have them drawn up in the next week.”
“Has Wendy got a lawyer?”
He shrugged. “I don’t know. I haven’t talked to her since the whole thing with the picture.”
“Do you think she’ll fight you for custody?”
He smiled sadly. “If she does, she’ll lose. I gave the picture to my lawyer, and he said it’s pretty much a slam dunk for me.”
“Good! Because those boys need you. They need to be here.”
“I think so, too.”
“Do you think it will hurt your chances if I’m staying here?”
Bob shook his head. “I talked to the lawyer about it. It’s not against the law to have a houseguest . . . even a pregnant one.” He grinned at her.
“Okay,” she said. “But if Wendy starts to make a big deal about it, I’ll go stay with Corrie.”
“Don’t worry about it, Bryn. I already told you, you can stay as long as you want. The boys like having you here, and so do I.”
28
Bryn paced the living room, checking her appearance every few minutes in the hall mirror.
“Calm down,” Bob said. “You’d think this was a blind date.”
“It feels like one,” Bryn said. “God, I don’t even know why I agreed to this.”
She jumped when the doorbell rang.
“Six o’clock, on the nose,” Bob said.
“I can’t believe he’s on time,” Bryn said. “Paul is always late.”
She opened the front door and found Paul holding another huge bouquet of daisies.
“You didn’t have to do that,” she said, taking the flowers from him. “Give me just a second to put them in water.”
He followed her into the living room and smiled at Bob.
“Hey, how you doing?”
“I’m good,” Bob said. “Here, Bryn, I’ll take the flowers.”
Bryn handed the bouquet to him and picked up her sweater.
“I’ll see you later,” she said.
“Okay, you kids have fun.” Bob smiled at her.
“Where are you going?” Cody appeared from the hallway carrying a comic book.
“Bryn is going out for dinner with her friend Paul,” Bob said.
Cody stared at Paul suspiciously. “Why?” he asked.
“Because she’s hungry,” Bob said.
“Why doesn’t she just eat with us?” Cody looked from his father to Bryn.
“I thought you might want some time just with your dad,” Bryn said.
Cody didn’t respond. He took Bob’s hand and simply stared at Paul.
“Okay, well, I’ll see you later,” Bryn said.
Paul held the door for her as Bryn got into the car.
“What’s with the kid?” he asked.
“What do you mean?”
“He acted like you were his mom or something.”
Bryn smiled. “He’s five, and he really misses his mom. That’s all.”
They drove to Bryn’s favorite Italian restaurant. She felt her heart lift. This might actually go well, after all.
They ordered and the waiter brought their drinks—sparkling juice for Bryn, a glass of red wine for Paul.
“So, how are you feeling?” Paul asked.
“Okay,” Bryn replied. “I’m sick a lot, but I’m feeling good right now.”
“So, what does the doctor say about it?”
“That it’s a normal part of pregnancy.”
“But can’t you do anything about it? Isn’t there some kind of pill you can take?”
She shook her head. “It’s okay, it’s just a pain in the ass.”
“Do you know if it’s a boy or a girl?” he asked.
She laughed. “Not until at least sixteen weeks, the doctor said.”
“What do you want?”
“I don’t know,” Bryn said, smiling. “Either one would be okay, I guess.”
“Yeah,” he agreed. “Have you thought of any names?”
She laughed again. “Nope! I’m still getting used to the idea of the baby. I haven’t even thought about names.”
“Well, if it’s a boy, maybe we could call him Will. That was my dad’s name.”
“I didn’t know that was your dad’s name.” Bryn leaned forward to stare at Paul. “You’ve never talked about him at all.”
“Well, he died when I was a kid, so there’s not a lot to talk about.”
“Will . . . I guess it’s a good name. Not William, just Will.”
The waiter brought their salads. Paul drained his glass and asked for another. Bryn raised her eyebrows but said nothing. Talking about his family always made Paul uncomfortable.
“So, if it’s a girl, are you going to want to call her Helen?” Bryn asked.
Helen was Paul’s mother.
“God, no!” He spat out the words. “I mean . . . no.” His voice softened. “I’ve never really liked that name.”
“Okay, then. Maybe Will. Definitely not Helen. Any other ideas?”
“No,” he said. “That’s all. I just kind of like Will.”
The waiter brought his second glass of wine and they set upon their salads.
“So,” Paul said after a brief silence, “do you think Bob’s wife is going to come home this time?”
“No,” Bryn said. “I think this time he wouldn’t take her back even if she wanted to come home.”
“Seriously?” Paul’s eyebrows raised. “So old Bob has finally grown a pair. Good for him.”
“It is good for him,” Bryn agreed. “Wendy is a selfish, selfish bitch. Bob and the boys are better off without her.”
She told Paul about the picture they’d seen of Cody and the dog and the drugs.
“Yeesh,” he said when she’d finished the story. “She always was kind of . . . off. I mean, she’s a looker, I’ll give her that.”
He stared into space for a long minute. “I always loved that wild hair.”
The waiter brought their entrees, and Paul ordered another glass of wine.
“Well, it made me think about some things,” Bryn said when the waiter was gone. “If we do decide to try again, if I do move back in with you, you can’t be smoking pot all the time. And you can’t smoke at all in the apartment. It’s not good for the baby.”
“I know,” he agreed. “That’s why I was thinking we should look for a different place, maybe one with a balcony. So I could just go outside to smoke.”
“It would be better for everyone if you just quit,” Bryn said quietly.
“One thing at a time, babe. One thing at a time.”
He laughed and rolled his eyes. Then he signaled the waiter and asked for a fourth glass of wine.
Bryn sighed to herself and hunkered down in her chair, waiting for the inevitable.
By his seventh glass of merlot, Paul’s voice had grown loud and quarrelsome.
“I bet old Bob wants you to stay right where you are, right? I bet he wants you to stay with him for good and take care of his kids . . . and take care of him.”
He leered at Bryn. “I see how he looks at you, babe. I see him look.”
Bryn sat quietly, cursing herself for agreeing to the date. Cursing Paul for his drinking. Cursing fate that this man was the father of her child.
“Well.” Paul rose and steadied himself with his chair. “Let’s hit the road.”
Silently, she took the keys from him, poured him into the passenger seat of the car, and drove back to his apartment. Then she guided him up the stairs, into the apartment, and onto the bed.
He grinned up at her, his eyes glassy.
“How about a hit?” he asked. “I’ve got some killer weed. Let me get it. It’s right here.”
He began digging through the drawer of the bedside stand for his stash.
Bryn walked from the room and out of the building, walked two blocks to the coffee shop, ordered a chai tea latte, and called Bob.
“Hey.” His voice was like a balm on her nerves. “What’s up?”
“Are the boys still up?” she asked, blinking back tears.
“Yeah, we’re just playing with the Wii.”
“I’m at the coffee shop on Third and Kirby. Can you come get me?”
“Sure,” he said. “Hang tight. We’re on our way.”
After he put the boys to bed, Bob sat on the couch next to Bryn, his arm across her shoulders.
“It was bad?”
She nodded and leaned her head against his shoulder.
“It started out so well,” she said. “We were talking about the baby and names and stuff. And then he started drinking.” Her voice trailed away.
“I’m sorry, Bryn. I know you were hoping he could change.”
“The sad thing is, I think he’s trying. I think he’s really trying to change. He brought the flowers, he put some thought into the restaurant, he talked about getting a new place. But . . . but then he started with the wine. And then of course he wanted to get stoned. He’s not even close to father material.”
She sighed heavily. “I don’t know why I thought he could be.”
“Hope springs eternal.” Bob smiled at the cliché. “All those times you guys asked me why I took Wendy back after she cheated, it’s the same thing. I always thought, ‘Maybe this time it will be different. ’ But it never was.”
Bryn nodded.
“At least now you know,” Bob said. “At least now we both know.”
“Bob?”
She looked up at him and smiled.
“What?” he asked.
“If I didn’t like you so much I think I’d fall in love with you.”
He laughed and kissed her forehead.
“Ditto,” he said softly.
29
Corrie stood in her bathroom, staring at the stick she’d peed on, watching it turn from white to blue. She compared the color on the stick to the one on the box, then compared it again. Definitely blue . . . definitely pregnant.
She sat on the edge of the bathtub, clutching the stick in her hand.
Pregnant . . . she was pregnant. After all the years, all the waiting, all the heartbreaks, she, Corrie Ann Philips, was with child.
For a long minute, she simply sat with the fact, the undeniable fact, of a new life in her womb. A baby . . . a tiny boy or girl, the child she had always wanted. Tears ran unchecked down her cheeks and she stared again and again at the stick in her hand. Pregnant!
And then, like a wave, panic overtook her. She was pregnant . . . but whose baby was it?
She walked into the bedroom and stared at the calendar. The date of her last period seven weeks before. Her trip to California two weeks after. Her homecoming to Mark.
Oh God! This cannot be happening. After all these years, after all this time . . . I cannot finally be pregnant and not know if the baby is Mark’s! Please, God, please . . .
She stopped abruptly. She didn’t even know what to ask God for.
Her knees buckled beneath her and she sank to the floor, still clutching the stick. Sitting on the tile floor, she wept until she felt sick. Then she rose unsteadily, walked to the phone, and called Bryn. Five minutes later she was at Bob’s, falling into Bryn’s arms.
“Oh my God, Corrie! That’s great!”
Bryn threw her arms around her friend and hugged her tight.
“I can’t believe it! Finally! You’re going to have a baby and I’m going to have a baby, and they’ll grow up together and be best friends.”
“Bryn . . .”
“Seriously, how perfect is this? I can’t believe we’re both going to have babies!”
“Bryn, wait.”
Corrie pulled away from Bryn and took a step back.
“What’s wrong?” Bryn asked.
“I don’t know . . . I mean, what if the bab
y is Daniel’s?”
“Oh!” Bryn’s face fell. “Oh God, honey, I didn’t even think of that. Oh . . . do you think it could be?”
She pulled Corrie by the hand to the couch and sat beside her.
“I don’t know,” Corrie said. “Maybe. The timing is right.”
Corrie slumped on the couch, cradling her head in her hands.
“I just don’t know,” she whispered. “I don’t know.”
Bryn held her hand while Corrie cried again.
“What am I going to do?” Corrie said, over and over. “What am I going to do?”
Finally, she sniffed and leaned her head against Bryn’s shoulder.
“What you’re going to do is have a baby,” Bryn said firmly. “You’re going to have Mark’s baby, and that’s all there is to it.”
Corrie raised her head to stare at her friend.
“But what if it’s not Mark’s baby?” she asked.
“It is,” Bryn insisted. “It is Mark’s baby. It should be Mark’s baby. It has to be Mark’s baby. So it will be Mark’s baby!”
“But . . .”
“Look.” Bryn held Corrie’s hands tightly. “For all we know, for all anyone knows, this baby is Mark’s. No one ever has to know anything else.”
“I can’t do that!” Corrie cried. “If it’s Daniel’s, I can’t just pass it off as Mark’s. I can’t!”
“Why not?” Bryn asked. “You guys were talking about adoption. That baby wouldn’t have been biologically either of yours. What does it matter, really, who the father is? I mean, the biological father. Mark will be this baby’s father. He will love this baby, and he never has to know it might be Daniel’s. Seriously, Corrie . . . why does he ever have to know?”
“And what if the baby comes out with red hair and blue eyes?” Corrie said.
“Well, Maya has reddish hair,” Bryn reasoned. “And Sarah has blue eyes. So it’s there on both sides, right?”
Corrie simply shook her head and cried again.
“I can’t do that,” she wept. “It’s bad enough I cheated on him. I can’t pass Daniel’s baby off as his. I can’t.”
“Shhh,” Bryn crooned. “You don’t have to decide anything right now. It’s going to be okay.”
“How is it going to be okay?”
Corrie rose and began pacing the living room. It was a beautiful Saturday in October and Bob had taken the boys to the park.
The Weight of Small Things Page 17
