by Megan Bryce
Living together on the weekends, giving each other keys. Baby steps. Baby steps toward a finish line he wasn’t sure he was ready to cross.
He stopped staring wide-eyed at the next building over and smiled because here he was, hemming and hawing. Where was Justine when he needed her?
He called his sister because she always knew what everybody should do.
“Paulie! Oh, thank God for another adult. When do you think baby brain ends? By the time the kid turns eighteen?”
He looked at the picture of his chubby niece that he kept on his desk. “Mom got over it pretty quick. I don’t think you need to worry about it.”
“Mom is not a good example. Mom gave birth between lectures. She didn’t even take a week off, let alone a whole year. My brain is atrophying.”
Paul closed his eyes at the mental picture of his mother dashing between lectures to push him and his sister out. Mom always said it was her fault for not planning better, for not having them during summer break. She always said she didn’t know why she hadn’t learned her lesson the first time with Paul.
Mom didn’t know why Karen had taken a year off work. At sixty-five, Mom was thinking about thinking about retiring.
Paul said, “How is Little Princess?”
“Happy now that Daddy is home making faces at her and willing to carry her around everywhere. You don’t think twenty pounds is a lot until you can’t put it down.”
“I’ll have to carve out some time to come over and carry her around. Give you guys a break.”
“Yes. Please. Sometime before she turns one.”
“I should be able to just about do that.” If he was lucky. “But right now I need some adult advice.”
“Use protection.”
He grinned. “That’s kind of the advice I was looking for. How do you know when you’re ready for kids, for marriage?”
“The skies open up, the birds break into song.”
“And in the real world?”
“You’re willing to fork over two months’ salary on a ring that she will wear to change diapers and mop the floor.”
Two months’ salary was a deterrent. He said, “Seriously. How did you know Steve was it?”
Karen stopped with the glib remarks and paused. “Seriously? How seriously?”
“Serious enough to be asking my sleep-deprived sister. Maybe I should talk to Steve.”
“No way. He’s changing a diaper right now. The third one since Little Princess was born nine months ago. I’m not giving him an out.”
“Then just go ask him how he knew when it was time to pop the question.”
“Well. I’m awake now. Are we talking about Justine?”
Paul looked back out the window. “She wants us to move in together, which I think I’m okay with. But the rest? I just don’t know. I don’t want to string her along. If she’s not it, it would be kinder to tell her now. To stop this before it went any further.”
“Are you sure you’re a lawyer? That is such a decent and good thing for any man to think, let alone one who is a lawyer.”
“She was in my office crying that she was thirty-six. She told me that if this wasn’t going to work she needed to know sooner rather than later.”
His sister hummed in the back of her throat. “I didn’t realize. Thirty-six.”
Two years older than Paul. Seven years older than Karen.
She said, “All right, I’ll go ask Steve. But I am not changing this diaper, no matter how much he gags.” She muttered to herself, “I will not change this diaper. Be strong, Karen. Be strong.”
She covered the phone and after a minute Paul heard a muffled, “Oh, come on. You’re gagging over this.”
Steve whined at Karen and Paul listened to them, listened to what a family was.
It didn’t always smell like a bed of roses but he knew they were both happy with what they had. Or maybe it was one day they’d be happy that they’d done it.
His sister came back on the line and said dryly, “He says he thought I was the best he could get.”
She held the phone away from her mouth and said, “You weren’t wrong.”
Steve said faintly, “I know it, babe. I still know it.”
Paul knew why Karen had married Steve, probably even knew why the guy had only changed three diapers. He made Karen feel like he’d lucked out by getting her. They had their moments, moments where Karen would call asking Paulie what the statute of limitations on murder was, but they were a team. They were part of a whole.
Steve came on the line and Paul smiled. “Got out of another diaper, huh? You’re welcome.”
“You’re asking when it’s time to pop the question, man. That’s not something you ask a woman. They’ll always say it was yesterday.”
Paul grinned. “And you’ll say it’s…”
“Always someday. Put it off as long as they’ll let you.”
Paul imagined Steve’s shaggy blond hair, his plaid flannel shirt, the big hulking bear of a man. His sister’s dark hair, glasses permanently perched on her nose, her face in a book. She was on parental leave from Harvard, assistant professor of ancient history, until the end of December. Steve worked for the forest service. They didn’t look like they went together but, somehow, they did.
Paul said, “You didn’t.”
“I know, but I married up. I had to nail that down before everyone talked her out of it.”
“And how did you know you were sure? That this was it, that she was it?”
“I just knew. I knew that I’d never be happy without her. I knew the first time I saw her that she was mine.”
“And you’re not just saying that because Karen’s standing right there threatening you with a gag-worthy diaper?”
Steve made a noise in the back of his throat. “I know Mother Nature can be nasty, I see plenty in my line of work, but the things that come out of my sweet, little princess? It is just not right, man. Just not right.”
Paul closed his eyes, trying not to imagine what could be so horrible that it would make a man who’d sucked an eyeball out of a fish, a man who hunted and field dressed his own game every year, sound so horrified.
Steve said, “I love Karen more every time she lets me pass that cup. I would lay down my life for that woman. You feel that way about your woman? Would you give her your life?”
That expectation was a lot to live up to. To love someone more than yourself. He didn’t feel that way about Justine.
Paul said, “Did you feel like that before Little Princess?”
“Maybe not. There’s something that happens to a man when he becomes a father. Something magical when you hold your baby in your arms that first time, when you realize you’re what’s standing between her and the world.”
Paul was a lawyer. He’d seen the dregs of society, and he knew nothing magical happened when someone became a father. But he knew Steve, he’d been there when Little Princess had been placed in his arms, he’d seen the tears streaming from the giant man’s eyes.
Paul had always assumed he would get married, have a family.
He’d also assumed that he would put it off as long as he could. He was just wondering if maybe he’d passed that point. It was time; was it time?
Paul heard Karen say, “Take her, you big baby,” and he chuckled.
The longer they stayed married, the more Karen became like Steve, gruff and expressive.
There was a loud smacking sound as Steve kissed his wife. He said into the phone, “If you get the chance to have this, Paulie, you should take it.”
And Steve became more like Karen.
And maybe that was the trick with picking someone to marry. When there were no birds, no halo of light telling you this was the one, no moment where you just knew, you had to pick someone you wouldn’t mind becoming more like.
Karen said, “Bring Justine to dinner one night. It’ll give me an excuse to get out of these stained sweats. Give me an excuse to get a sitter. Oh, please, say yes.”
> “I’ll think about it. In my spare moments.” He looked at the stacks of folders on his desk, behind his desk. “It won’t be anytime soon.”
“Before Little Princess turns one.”
“Before she turns one. I will.”
He hung up, thinking. He knew his marriage wouldn’t be like his sister’s.
She hadn’t married down, but she’d certainly married different. There was no one like Steve in their family. They were studious and bookish while he was rugged. Almost wild.
Justine was driven, smart. She was an accountant. She’d fit in their family.
But he wondered, did he want to become more like her?
And he wondered, was Justine the best he could get?
Paul picked up a spare key during lunch the next day and surprised Justine at work. He knew she’d be there, she always worked through lunch.
Her eyes widened when she saw him and he smiled, holding out the key to her. “In case you’re done before me.”
She blinked when she saw it, her face flushing, and she slowly reached out to take it. She smiled down at it and then up at him. “I haven’t got you one yet.”
“That’s fine. I just didn’t want you to have to wait for me in case I get stuck tonight.” He nodded at the suitcase sitting behind her desk. “Packed already?”
“I thought I could just go straight to your place after work.”
“I’m glad I brought you the key, then. Call me when you leave and I’ll see if I can’t make my escape.”
“I’ll be a little late. I need to do some shopping. I thought I could wear my normal pajamas. I can’t.”
He tried to remember if he’d ever seen her pajamas. “I can’t imagine what you wear to bed that could be so bad, that you would be embarrassed to show me.”
She looked down the aisle to the next desk, then unzipped the suitcase and pulled out a long flannel sleeve covered in jack-o’-lanterns. She stuffed it back in the bag. “I have fall leaves that are bright red and yellow and orange. Neon red, yellow, and orange. And scary green witches. The jack-o’-lanterns are the least embarrassing.”
This was something new, that this intense woman wore theme pajamas. He said, “I love it. How come I’ve never seen them before?”
She muttered, “We’ve never slept together before.”
They’d never slept the whole night together before.
She looked in disgust at the suitcase. “I should have prepared better. It’s silly.”
“Justine, are you ever silly?”
She waved her hand toward her suitcase. “Unfortunately.”
He said, “Do you have Santa pajamas?”
She nodded slowly, closing her eyes. “And snowmen. And Christmas trees.”
He laughed, perching on the edge of her desk. “I can’t wait to see them. You only wear them after Thanksgiving, right?”
Her eyes popped open.
He grinned, tapping her temple lightly. “Everything in its place. And don’t worry, it’s nowhere near as embarrassing as what I wear.”
“Leopard-print bikinis?”
He laughed and leaned down to whisper in her ear, “I don’t wear anything.”
When he pulled back, she said, “Maybe I don’t have to worry about pajamas.”
“Maybe not.”
They smiled at each other until one of her coworkers passed her desk.
He pulled back. “Should we go somewhere for dinner to celebrate our first night sleeping together?”
“I thought dinner at home might be nice.”
“That does sound nice. And then we can model our pajamas for each other afterward.”
He stroked her hand, then stood up. “I’d better get back to work so I can actually make it home for dinner and the show.”
He didn’t kiss her. Too many people walking around her communal desk.
He stopped before he got too far away and turned around. “How come you can wear Halloween pajamas still? It’s November.”
Oh, he knew Justine. He knew she was the kind of person who took her Halloween decorations down the day after Halloween. Put her Christmas decorations up the day after Thanksgiving.
She said, “I can’t. But it’s better than the neon leaves so I was making an exception. They’re pumpkins, I thought it would be okay.”
“What about Thanksgiving pajamas?”
She ducked her head. “They’re turkeys. Carrying axes.”
He laughed until she looked up at him. “Now those, I’d like to see.”
“Next weekend.”
“I’m going to have to see the whole collection.”
She nodded, trying not to smile. Trying not to be embarrassed.
He left, still smiling. Still thinking that he knew Justine and he didn’t. She could surprise him with her silliness. But it was ordered silliness.
He liked it. He liked her.
Maybe this was really it.
He thought, two months’ salary? Who came up with that rule?
Friday morning, Delia entered Jack’s office. Late, of course, but not later than her normal, and she pulled on her booties carefully. She studied the ceiling, making sure she wasn’t getting lost.
The blue sky was tinted. Pink, yellow, orange, red. East to west, the breaking dawn, the setting sun.
It needed more detail, clouds and angels. And shadows.
And then they’d have to move his desk and she’d have to do the other side of the room.
She grabbed one end of the scaffolding and Jack said, “Are you going to ask me to help?”
She shook her head and he pushed his chair back. He walked slowly towards her and her stomach flipped and flopped. She watched him and mentally sketched his nose, wondering why some people were considered beautiful. There were all sorts of theories, usually relying on proportions, but she didn’t believe any of them.
Songs weren’t favorites until you’d heard them a few times. And if you liked it the very first time it was because you heard something in it that you liked already.
Love was based on familiarity, beauty was based on familiarity.
Delia knew why his eyes were beautiful. They looked like a pool of melted milk chocolate and what woman could resist chocolate?
They got it positioned just right and she climbed the ladder to the scaffolding, saying, “Is Gus going to come crashing in today?”
“Most likely. She drove in with me this morning and I expect she will make her presence known.”
“Eighteen-year-old girls are pretty good at that.”
“Eighteen-year-old girls are good at making all their wishes known. She told me she couldn’t start work on a Friday.”
Delia snorted. “Well, sure. It’s like starting a diet. You can’t do it at the end of the week.”
“But once I pointed out that she had no money for gas, she somehow persevered.”
Delia closed her eyes, fighting her smile. She had to remember to be careful. She couldn’t take him when he was being funny. When he smiled. When he laughed.
She chewed on her lip, she dug her nails into her palms, and when she couldn’t take it one more second, she peeked over the side of the scaffolding.
He was typing on his computer, smiling into the screen, and Delia just looked at him.
She whispered, “Please stop smiling.”
He looked up. His brown eyes warm and happy and he didn’t look like a perfect asshole at that moment. He just looked perfect.
She said, “We’re going to have a real problem if you don’t stop doing that.”
“Because?”
“Because you’re beautiful and you make me want to paint you.”
“Don’t.”
“I won’t.” She would, she was. She wouldn’t tell him. “And I forget that you’re a corporate shill and I work for you.”
He nodded and looked back at his screen. “I’ve noticed you have a real problem respecting authority.”
“I have a real problem with people expecting me to respect arbi
trary authority.”
“How do you decide if it’s arbitrary?”
“It’s all arbitrary.”
His lips did their slow glide up and she turned back to her paint. Stupid, beautiful men. Stupid, beautiful men who cried out to be painted. She had to paint him just to get him out of her head.
She ignored him as best she could the rest of the morning, taking her frustration out on the ceiling. She jerked when Gus pushed the door open and shouted, “Lunch! You coming, Delia?”
Delia peeked over the scaffolding to find both of them looking up at her. Gus was dressed in a white button-up shirt and navy slacks that looked like they’d been a school uniform. Jack pushed his chair back and stood, a smile threatening at the corners of his mouth. Delia held a finger up at him, warning him about that smile.
He waved her down. “Then hurry up, Delia. Gus is dying to tell us how her first day of work went.”
Delia went. She liked to eat, she was hungry, and she wanted to know how Gus’s first day of work had gone.
Gus dug into her Cobb salad. “I filled out paperwork.”
Delia cut into her steak. Her thick, fatty, cooked-just-right steak that she would never have ordered for herself. Jack had looked at her and said, “Do you eat meat?”
She’d nodded. “I eat it. I love it. I can’t get enough of it.”
Gus had laughed. “I would have guessed vegetarian. I would have guessed vegan.”
Delia had nodded again in agreement. “In my misspent youth.”
And then Jack had ordered them both rib-eye steaks, medium rare. Delia couldn’t decide if she was upset at him for his high-handed ordering or happy that she hadn’t had to look at the prices.
Jack said to Gus, “And did you see any positions you were qualified for?”
She said happily, “I wasn’t qualified for any of them. They were obviously hoping for a best-case candidate.”
“Which you obviously are not.”
“I am. I’m your sister. Anybody who hires me, barely out of high school with no work experience, will get major brownie points, won’t they?”
Delia nodded. “She is not wrong. I could use an assistant.”
Jack choked on his steak and reached for his water glass.
