by Kelli Walker
“I’m not saying it’ll be easy, but it could be done - and a whole lot quicker and safer than convincing everyone to be okay without you plastered all over our image. Besides, you just gave me a great idea: camouflage. If they can’t see or at least don’t notice you, we’re home free.”
I sighed. “We can’t risk it. Which was worse: Having appendicitis? Or waking up from the anesthesia to a stock price almost twenty percent lower than when you went to sleep?”
Joe’s mood faltered but didn’t fall as he remembered and realized that I was tight. “Yeah… Please, god, not again. That’s okay, though; there’s another way… What was it? Ah! Yes. We tell them something so they expect you to not be there.”
I swore, thinking I’d broken his brain. “Joe! We just spelled out how that doesn’t work!”
He shook his head, regaining his smile. “It’ll work if we tell them something that doesn’t send up any red flags.”
I rolled my eyes, waiting for him to educate me with whatever insane example he was about to proffer.
“We could… We could tell them you’re celebrating our recent success with a long holiday - a trip around the world! We could even take a bunch of pictures of you in different cultural outfits with a green screen behind you. Those marketing nutcases will have evidence of you touring the Taj Mahal and climbing the Great Pyramid in no time.”
I started to insult him but realized that what Joe was suggesting was so outlandish… it might work. I hesitated before conveying any sort of compliance but didn’t outright reject the idea.
“I’m not going to comment on that. If we got caught… Oh, boy, I don’t even want to imagine. Do you have anything else along those lines? I like the idea of using a vacation as cover. If anything, people will see that as a sign that we aren’t at all concerned with the steadiness of the company’s position.”
“Well, we could say you’re taking some time for family since the passing of your mother, but we already talked about that before you left for home the first time. I didn’t agree with you at the time, Ryan, but I do now. I think even the suggestion of something negative is a bad move.”
I thought for a moment, then voiced something too ridiculous to consider.
“We could tell them the truth… that I’m off chasing a woman I was stupid enough to dump nearly ten years ago.”
“Ryan, Christ, you’re my best friend, so I’m comfortable seeing you as you really are. But these people… They’d see you as a fool, painting you as insane, or worse, no longer committed to the business. Unless it’s a wedding announcement, we can’t volunteer any information about your love life.”
My entire face levitated out of my hands as I faced Joe with wide eyes. The look caught him totally off-guard.
“What? Ryan, What… Oh, Jesus. Hold on. That is a terrible idea. What if Harley turns on the news? If you think you’ve pushed her away now… Wait until she realizes that you knocked her up and kicked her to the curb RIGHT before marrying another woman. Brother, if she went public with that… there would be a mob dragging you out into the street.”
I shook my head, finally seeing the forest for the trees. I leaned forward, and, for the first time in the conversation, I was explaining to Joe what we were going to do.
“Keep it vague for as long as you can. Tell them that I’m maintaining oversight remotely, enjoying some much deserved time to celebrate our monumental success… while considering the best sequence by which the company will make public our next - I don’t know - advancements? Big moves? Plans?”
“Future plans to advance?”
“Yeah… keep it vague like that, but make it feel to them like it’s right around the corner - like we’ll be announcing as soon as I get back, but, of course, don’t say that explicitly, let them jump to that conclusion. So, don’t say, ‘future’ … use, ‘next round of record-breaking moves’ or something. Also, focus more on describing the emphasis on the sequence… basically that, ‘I’m off deciding which sequence will present the most productive, steady, sustainable growth for the company, maximizing the potential value of our products, services, and company as a whole… while ensuring that our business remains essentially recession-proof.’”
Joe’s eyes were practically glowing. Before he could latch onto his own enthusiasm, I continued.
“Keep the idea of the wedding in your back pocket in case things start to get sketchy. If anyone starts grumbling, wondering where I am, then you’ll attend some sort of event - don’t let it be related to us at all; let it be the Grammy’s or a championship sporting event or something… Whatever it is, make sure there’ll be enough big-name journalists there that they’ll see you and, when they ask about me, you’ll take two or three from the biggest news providers and tell them, off the record, that I’m working on tying the knot, making sure that my bride-to-be gets to have the ceremony she’s always wanted so that, when I come back, she’ll stick around when I go back to pushing the company even farther as the leader of the global economy. I don’t know, Joe, something like that. It doesn’t have to be quite so… in their face, but you and the public relations department will figure out the right way to say it.”
“Ryan, that… That’s perfect. That first part alone… I could feed them that line for months. Add on top of that a rumor of romance… That’s a double hitter. We’ll have the money makers waking up from dreams of you sailing home with another golden goose under your wing… and, by the end of the day, when they’ve just started to forget about the fantasy, their trophy spouses will be there, gossiping around them at dinner, wondering what lucky goddess managed to steal you all for herself. It’s perfect! Ryan, every stakeholder and investor from here to Tokyo and back will wake up praising you from the pulpit of their wallets… then they’ll go to bed envying you, raising you up as the role model they can only wish they’d be able to emulate.”
I knew it was the only way I was going to get back to South Dakota, but Joe’s analysis knocked my confidence in the plan down a notch or two. “Jesus, Joe, take it easy. You have to promise me this won’t go too far. Remember, we don’t know how long we’re talking about me being gone. Let’s play this smart and set things up so that we’re protected for as long as possible. That means holding onto the whole wedding suggestion until absolutely necessary, right?”
“Right, Ryan, right. Of course! It’s just so good! I wish we’d done this sooner. It’s better than any marketing strategy we’ve ever put out!”
I trusted Joe, knowing that he always kept his head when our chips were on the table and our cards were limited. Still, I was uncomfortable thinking of myself in the light he’d presented.
“And… Joe? If it does come down to the whole wedding hint… don’t make me out to be some kind of… I don’t know. I guess just let the journalists do their thing, but when all of this is over, making me out to be too much of an elitist, celebrity, playboy could hurt us in the long term. Remember, we don’t need them to love or approve of us… all we want for them is confidence. We need them to KNOW, without any doubt, that there is absolutely nothing that can diminish the company’s future potential.”
He nodded, recognizing my tonal shift toward the philosophical. My eyes met Joe’s, and we smiled, realizing that we’d just laid out a plan that could hatch into something everybody could benefit from. Before I could suggest how we might start putting the scheme into motion, Joe’s expression softened to that exclusively of a friend, devoid of any and all business considerations.
“So… Ryan… now we’re just left with the two things that you’ve been refusing to commit to, one way or the other.”
Thinking he was still talking about the plan, I tilted my head in Joe’s direction but retained my smile.
It soon vanished.
“The first one: We just concocted a way for you to go after Harley… and I might be slipping to the news that you’re in the process of getting somebody to say, ‘I do.’ Should I expect you to be a married man when you come back?”
“I… Christ, Joe. How does someone even answer that?”
“Why don’t you start with whether or not you want to.”
“Do I… want to marry Harley?”
Joe nodded, patiently letting me spell out his question in what he knew was a subconscious impulse to avoid giving an answer.
It took me a long time to voice a response, but when I did, it was laced with a confidence I recognized to be real. “Yes. Absolutely, I do. I mean, it isn’t the idea of marriage, necessarily… You know me; I tend to stray away from anything associated with organized religion. But the thought of spending every day with her, turning our lives into a single life that we enjoy and suffer through together… Honestly, Joe, I don’t know if there is anything I wouldn’t give up for that chance, including my position here with you.”
He nodded in approval, fully aware that there wasn’t an ounce of uncertainty in my conclusion. Unfortunately for my renewed confidence, Joe wasn’t done.
“That leads us to the second thing. You told me that you never said to Harley, ‘I don’t want to be a father,’ but I’m pretty positive that you also neglected to tell her, ‘Harley, I want to be there for our child.’ So, Ryan, I’m asking you. Does Harley being pregnant change your answer? Do you still want her to marry you? And… Are you ready to be a father?”
Those questions would continue to haunt my psyche for years after that conversation with Joe. Still, during that inaugural inward dance between my honor, hubris, and humility, it must’ve taken at least ten minutes just for me to clear the emotions from my throat.
When I did finally speak my mind, it was initially to reposition Joe’s proposed fragments. I cleared my throat and spoke to Joe with a vulnerability I wasn’t sure we had ever shared before.
“I think that those three questions, to be answered effectively, first have to be rearranged for presentation in an order reversed from their original positions. The last question, ‘Am I ready to be a father’ - if answered honestly - should determine the outcomes for the other two.”
I took a deep breath, seeing that Joe was listening with intent and genuine interest.
“I don’t know if I’m ready. And, even if I was certain that I was, I’m pretty sure that I’d be wrong. So, instead, I’ll answer by saying… I want to be ready. More than that, I’m ready to do more than wanting… as long as it’s with Harley by my side. The idea of being a father, just on my own, is absolutely terrifying. When I try to envision that, all I see is the image of my own dad and me… which isn’t at all comforting. He’s a good man, and I love him, but our relationship has been one of transferring pain back and forth, over and over.”
I had to pause, clearing my throat again as my lungs seemed to fill with emotional pneumonia.
“But… when I think about being a dad from the mindset of a family with Harley, my father fades from my mind… and, even stranger, so does the image I have of myself. It’s hard to describe, but I see Harley and me, not as we are now, but as we want to be. I don’t see myself when I think about becoming a parent… I see something better. I see something that I can’t achieve on my own. So… Am I ready to be a father? Hell no! But, in the exact same moment… I’m ready to commit the rest of my life to give it every ounce of energy I will ever possess. No, being pregnant doesn’t change how I feel about Harley. I’m going to ask her to marry me, Joe. I want us to be together, beginning our own little family. And, honestly, I don’t know what I’ll do if she doesn’t say yes.”
I finished with my voice glacial and chipping, riddled by cracks that soon sent splinters of surprise and stoic devotion sprinting like shivers across my frozen vocal cords, steadily shattering shards off of my own heart to melt away in my bloodstream. Revealed beneath was a new aorta, augmented with an autonomy more advanced than seclusion to my own artifice. For the first time, it wasn’t just Harley that I loved… It was us, together, including the life growing within her. To my surprise, the feeling came with a warmth from my gut, instead of from where I would’ve guessed, under my chest, which now stood still, quiet and decisive.
Harley
“How is Ryan handling the news, Harley?”
“I’m… I’m not really sure.”
My mother began to agree, thinking she understood my meaning. “Yes, that’s perfectly normal, dear. I think you will discover that younger men do tend to have trouble communicating as a general rule, but especially so when it comes to talking about their emotions.”
My parents shared a knowing smile, but I shook my head.
“No, it isn’t that. I haven’t been taking his calls or answered any of his texts.”
My dad was the first to process how my rebuttal totally disregarded any pertinence from their earlier stance. He glanced at Mom but directed his words at me, recognizing that I was the only one who could clarify the situation.
“What do you mean, Harley? I know this is difficult, honey, but we’re behind you no matter what you tell us. I don’t want to ask insulting or ridiculous questions as we try to get up to speed… Would it be possible when you’re ready to explain?”
He received a very strange glance from my mom, who hadn’t yet comprehended why my dad would suddenly be choosing his words so judiciously. They had both already shown a readiness to be supportive and loving when I shared the news of my pregnancy. More than that, I couldn’t tell which one of my parents was more excited. It was a bittersweet moment, warming my heart’s love for them but only acting as a reminder for how I wouldn’t see my own story evolve into that same image of partnership, compassion, and familial stewardship.
I nodded and started with as many pertinent facts as I could think of, providing a quick list of information by which they could inform their own understanding of my situation.
“I’m at 6 weeks. Yes, I’m keeping it. Yes, Ryan is the father. No, it was not intentional in any way, from either one of us.” I paused before sharing my heartache with them. “…No, it does not look as though Ryan is interested in being involved, neither as the father of the child… nor, subsequently, by being in any further relationship with me. It… was not pleasant, the way it ended between us. No, I am not devastated by it… At least, not like I would’ve expected to be.”
I absentmindedly rubbed a hand over my stomach as I explained my position. “I have other things to focus on now.”
They didn’t ask, and I didn’t see any reason to add any annotations concerning the sheer amount of attempts Ryan was making to talk to me. I hadn’t answered any of his calls or texts. I hadn’t even begun to think about going back to work just yet, but I was sure there would be emails from him as well.
It was hard, at least initially, ignoring his name popping up on my phone, but I couldn’t bring myself to answer. It would’ve been a waste, having to listen to his string of excuses explaining why he wasn’t going to be coming back and how he’d be sending money or something just as ridiculous.
“He told me to pack up and come back without him. I don’t really know what else to tell you other than that.”
Once again, I avoided adding any mention of my own feelings. There was no use in further giving life to my self-image as nothing more than Ryan’s infatuation, wrung dry - a discarded piece of trash he had thrown away, rather than allowed himself to be burdened by.
“I’m so sorry, Harley. We know how much he meant to you. I honestly can’t believe it. But, then again, I didn’t see it coming the last time either. I guess there are colder sides to Ryan than he ever let on to around us. You’re sure there’s no salvaging things between you?”
I shrugged, so used to my simmering skin of anger and hurt that it was becoming increasingly rare for that pain to flare into any flame larger than a single ember’s fanned spark.
“Like I said, my focus is on what is right in front of me, not what I can’t control. He knows exactly where I am. It’s been a week, but I’m not waiting around wallowing in his inability or refusal to commit or care. If he wanted to, he would be here
.”
Ryan
I stood on the sidewalk, slightly chilled by the Dakota autumn air. Harley’s little floral shop stood in front of me, but I had exhausted all of my determined enthusiasm getting to that point in my journey to win her back. Now that I was right there, only a moment’s decisiveness away from seeing her for the first time since the fiasco in New York, I found myself trembling with apprehension. Nervousness was my only companion as I stood stupidly on the sidewalk, wondering if I would return to that same position as a failure.
In a surge of recklessness totally devoid of courage, I rang the little bell and waited.
She opened the door, and I caught her look of surprise before she hid it behind an otherwise expressionless stare.
“Uh… Hi, Harley. Is this an okay time? Can… Can we talk?”
Her eyes didn’t betray even a hint of what she was thinking. For a terrifying second, I just knew she was going to say no.
To my relief, she didn’t. A brief nod and a push of the door in my direction gave me enough permission to enter. She closed and locked the door behind us.
I looked around the room as if I was just a passing tourist. In reality, I was trying to cover my immediate need to steady both my pulse and my breathing.
Harley walked past me and curled behind a table, taking a position with a counter separating us. She turned her hands and eyes back to the stems she had been pruning. By all accounts, she didn’t seem to care that I was there at all.
I tried to remember at least one of the hundred different ways I had considered opening with, but not a single one came to mind. I was tongue-tied, afraid the wrong thing would come tumbling out of my mouth and leave me truly deserving her rejection.
“What can I do for you, Ryan?”
