Without a Net

by Kimberly Cooper Griffin

  “She’s not seeing anyone.”

  “She doesn’t date women?”

  “She’s a lesbian.”

  Betty cocked an eyebrow. “I don’t see a problem then.”

  A customer came in and Betty took their order. Meg thought about what dating a pregnant woman would be like. Would Fiona even consider it? What about the kiss? It had been brief and only on the cheek, but Fiona had kissed her. Some full on lip locks hadn’t affected her as much as that peck on the cheek. There was definitely some sort of chemistry going on between them, but did she really want to go there?

  “Can I tell you something in confidence?” Meg asked when there was another break in customers.

  Betty’s head whipped around. “You slept with her, didn’t you? I knew it!”

  “I did not sleep with her.” Meg turned back to the machine. “Never mind.”

  Betty grabbed her wrist. “No! No! You can totally trust me. I have kept secrets that would put people in prison if I told anyone. I am a lock box, the place where secrets remain. Come on. Tell me.”

  “I don’t know…” Meg pulled her arm away.

  Betty shook her hair back. “Hey, it’s cool. You don’t need to spill your guts to me. I joke around a lot, but I’m actually a good listener. If you want to talk about something, I’m here for you.”

  Meg hesitated. She did want to talk about it and she liked Betty. “Well, I don’t know if she wants anyone to know. So, please keep this between you and me?”

  “Absolutely.” Betty turned an invisible key in front of her mouth.

  “She’s pregnant.”

  “Oh, wow.” Betty fell back against the counter. “I didn’t see that coming.”

  “Me either.”

  “And you said she isn’t seeing anyone?”

  “Yep.”

  “Are you sure she’s a lesbian?” Betty crossed her arms.

  Meg nodded. “She told me.”

  “So, how did she get…?” Betty cradled her hands in front of her belly.

  “I don’t know. She hasn’t told me.”

  “Interesting. There is technology.”

  Meg stuck her hands in her apron and lifted her shoulders. “None of my business. The thing is, I’m not sure how I feel about dating a pregnant woman.”

  Betty pointed at her. “It would be your business if you started dating. You do want to date her, right?”

  “If the pregnancy thing hadn’t come up, I might have asked her out, yes. Except I’m leaving. There’s that, too.”

  Betty nodded. “Well, maybe you can hang out and see what happens. You leaving sort of limits how far things can go anyway.”

  “True. Maybe we can enjoy each other’s company. No expectations.”

  “I personally like no expectations.” Betty smiled.

  33

  Fiona locked the door after Meg left and dropped onto the sofa. She pulled her legs up under her and thought about the quick kiss she’d given Meg. Her lips tingled and the smell of Meg’s unique fragrance lingered in her memory. She sighed and opened the sketchbook. The painting she’s seen in Meg’s room had already demonstrated her talent, but she was amazed at what she saw on the pages of the book she held in her hands. Most of the drawings were of people, although there were a few objects and even a couple of abstracts. Fiona knew very little about art, but she did know the sketches were good. All of them, even the barest of outlines, conveyed feeling, and Fiona knew that what she was looking at was, in a sense, Meg’s journal. She probably didn’t intend it as such, but the stories told in some of the pictures were personal, and Fiona was honored Meg trusted her with them.

  Fiona pored over the book and noticed that, like the painting, none of the women in the sketches had faces—they were either undrawn or purposefully obscured. Initially she assumed it was because Meg didn’t like to draw faces, until she got to the last one. The sketch of her. Meg had drawn her sleeping with her head resting on the arm of the sofa. The expression on her face in the sketch conveyed tenderness and vulnerability. Fiona wondered what Meg had been feeling when she drew it.

  When the kittens started to stir, Fiona finally put the sketchbook aside to tend to them.

  Once the feeding was complete, she decided she would put her contemplative mood to good use. She fetched her journal from her room and went back to the sofa. After wasting several minutes staring at the leather-bound book in her lap, she opened it to the next blank page. Placing pen to paper, the familiar resistance to think about her situation returned. Frustrated, she almost tossed the journal to the side, but instead she mentally braced herself and consciously held the door open in her mind.

  Overwhelmed, a myriad of feelings swept through her and she found it difficult to focus on a single, coherent thought. In an effort to stop her head from spinning, Fiona turned to the last entry in her journal. It was the entry from the night of the pregnancy tests.

  I took a test and I failed it.

  The understatement of the words embarrassed her.

  She remembered the first moment she suspected she was pregnant. She’d been getting ready for work and felt a little off. Attributing it to not having eaten breakfast yet, she’d powered through, blow-drying her hair, when, out of nowhere, sudden nausea brought her to her knees in front of the toilet. In that moment, she went from thinking the chances of her being pregnant were impossible, to maybe-possible, to a couple weeks later and seven tests later, holy-shit-I-guess-it’s-time-to-face-the-facts-I’m-fucking-pregnant-possible.

  She thought about the night she took the pregnancy tests.

  Aside from the sudden nausea, she’d been sleeping more than usual, but it never seemed enough. She was ravenous all the time, even though the smell of most food made her want to hurl. Other times, she couldn’t eat enough, especially pizza. Oh, and her nipples. Her unbelievably sensitive nipples. She’d become overwhelmingly aware of them. And finally, as much as she hated the term, there was no better description for it—she was horny. Surprisingly, before the hair-drying incident, even with so many indications, it hadn’t crossed her mind she may be pregnant. Even when she missed her period, the idea was so farfetched that pregnancy didn’t even dawn on her.

  The thing was, what had happened between her and Mike—the absurd, awkward, very unsexy groping they’d done—had hardly been sex. They’d both been drunk. She wasn’t even sure he’d even reached the target, truth be told. She shuddered in embarrassment. Or was it horror?

  Either way, when the sudden nausea hit her, the suspicion took hold.

  She was running low on deodorant anyway, so she stopped by the CVS on her way home from work and picked some up, along with a 5-pack of store brand pregnancy tests that were promptly deposited next to the bathroom sink and left untouched for a week. Then, last Friday, she’d needed the deodorant and saw the box she’d been ignoring. Expecting a relieved laugh, she took out one of the tests.

  She hadn’t even finished washing her hands after taking it when the results window started to display a big fat YES, though it was supposed to take up to five minutes. Thinking the test had to be defective, she took another one and received the same result. The same with the remaining tests—YES, YES, and YES. But with each positive result, her disbelief grew stronger. Convinced it was a defective batch, she went back down to the CVS and bought the most expensive test they had. She had her pants half-off before she even got to the bathroom. The little pink ‘+’ in the results window on the two tests she took from the brand name kit confirmed what she’d seen from the first five. She was pregnant. Disbelief turned to shock, and shock turned to fear. What the fuck was she going to do?

  The night of the seven tests, Fiona went into her dark living room, sat on her couch, and checked out. She tried to write in her journal, but when it didn’t go as well as she’d hoped, she zoned out all weekend long. She didn’t change out of her pajamas.
She didn’t shower. She barely ate—even when hunger pangs caused her stomach to ache. She slept or sat in her living room—sometimes on the couch, sometimes in the recliner—and spaced out. On Monday, she almost made up a contagious illness, but instead she went into work and kept herself busy. It was a good way to not think about her situation.

  Now, a week later, with what felt like her whole life behind her and an abyss ahead of her, she sat in her living room. But this time, she did think about her situation.

  It took her a while to realize it, but while she was actually thinking about everything, she didn’t feel anything. If she had to describe it, she’d say she was blank and detached.

  She picked up her pen and opened her journal. She sat with pen poised. Several minutes passed before she wrote anything down.

  What should I feel?

  She stared at the words she’d written, trying to find the emotions she thought she should feel. Nothing would come. Finally, she took a guess and wrote something down.

  Anger?

  She didn’t feel it, but it was something at least.

  She was surprised to hear the kittens stir again. Hadn’t she just fed them? A look at the clock said it was almost half-past four. Somehow the afternoon had slipped by without her realizing it. Shit. She had promised Meg dinner, but she had to feed the kittens. There was no way she could get something started in time. Resigned, Fiona prepared the formula and sat down next to the box to feed the kittens.

  By the time Fiona had finished with the kittens and had opened the pantry door to look for something to make for dinner, there was a knock at the door.

  34

  Meg was nervous. Going to Fiona’s house wasn’t a date, but it sort of felt like one. And she was enough of a dork to have picked up some flowers on her way over. As soon as she did she doubted herself, almost throwing them away twice before she found herself at Fiona’s front door. If she hadn’t already rung the bell she would have considered throwing them away a third time, but instead, she hid them behind her back.

  When the door opened, Fiona’s smile was as sweet as she remembered and she timidly produced the small multi-colored bouquet of Gerbera daisies from behind her back.

  “A little something for staying at home and taking care of the kids all day.”

  “My favorites!” Fiona smiled and took them. “Thank you!”

  Meg was glad she’d kept them. “I figured you probably had a rough day, plus it’s the least I can do since you’re making dinner.”

  “Well, I suck. I haven’t even started dinner yet.” Fiona backed up to let Meg pass.

  “Is there any of the Thai food left?” Meg didn’t care so much about dinner—it was hanging out with Fiona she was looking forward to.

  “Oh, yeah, plenty. Enough for a couple of nights, actually.” Fiona looked relieved. “Are you sure, though? I can whip something up…”

  “I love leftover Thai food almost as much as I love leftover lasagna—which is a lot.” It was the absolute truth.

  Fiona bounced on the balls of her feet, making her look like a little kid. “You’re the awesomest. Flowers, poop expert, graceful acceptance of an inept host. I don’t deserve you.”

  “True.” Meg smiled to let her know she was joking.

  Fiona laughed. “Let me find a vase for these. You’re so sweet!” She took the flowers into the kitchen. “How was your day?”

  Meg followed her into the kitchen. “It was good. Busy. Betty gave me crap all afternoon, though.”

  “About what?” Fiona placed the flowers in a vase full of water in the center of the dining room table, before walking back into the kitchen to get the food ready.

  “The coffee cup. She noticed your name written on it from this morning… and, well, let’s just say she doesn’t believe I slept on the recliner last night.” A blush crept up her neck.

  Fiona grimaced. “Is it going to be a problem for you?”

  “No. Why would it be?”

  Fiona pursed her lips in a way Meg found quite cute. “Betty has a crush on you.”

  “She’s a kid.” Meg took dishes out of the cupboard while Fiona prepared the food.

  “A very attractive kid, whom I imagine is at least eighteen.” Fiona put a plate of food to heat in the microwave. She rested her elbows on the counter and cocked an eyebrow at Meg.

  Meg laughed. “She’s twenty-one. A very mature twenty-one, I’ll admit, but she’s a kid.”

  “Don’t forget attractive,” Fiona reminded her.

  “She’s attractive, yes.” Meg wondered what Fiona was getting at. Was she worried she and Betty were an item? Or, worse, was she actually interested in Betty? Meg didn’t like the idea at all. “Do you want me to put in a good word for you with her?”

  Fiona looked surprised. “What? No! I was wondering if maybe you would be into her if you knew she was into you.”

  “Even if she was, and I’m not convinced she is, I’m definitely not interested. I think she puts off a flirty vibe to lots of people. It’s part of her thing. But she’s young. She needs to play the field, try things on, see what’s out there. She doesn’t need to hitch herself to a twenty-six year old who will probably cramp her style. Otherwise, she’ll never know what she wants when she’s twenty-six herself.”

  Fiona’s expression relaxed and she nodded, appearing to agree with Meg. Meg got the feeling Fiona had more to say, but she turned her attention to the food instead.

  “So, a little of everything?” Fiona asked, as she started scooping food onto the other plate.

  35

  Fiona and Meg settled down at the dining room table to enjoy their leftovers. A comfortable quiet had descended upon them moments earlier as they performed a graceful dance while they prepared their plates in the small kitchen. Fiona had never been so comfortable in another person’s presence outside of family, which had ended with Aunt Corny’s death. The unique connection was unfamiliar and scary. Bringing it up with Meg was also scary. It was too soon to feel, let alone voice, such a thing, especially with the dark cloud of uncertainty hovering over her future. That alone told her she had no business acting on her burgeoning feelings. Despair threatened to overwhelm her, but she tamped it down and asked Meg more about her day. Meg didn’t seem to sense the tumult within her, for which Fiona was grateful.

  Fiona pointed to the colorful daisies in the middle of the table. “I love Zoom Zoom Bloom.”

  “How did you know where they were from? I discovered the shop today. The steel buckets of colorful daisies on the stoop drew me in.”

  “The wire wrap on the stems.” Fiona used her fork to point out the thin wire twisted up the long stem to keep the heavy heads from drooping. “They’re the only shop I know who takes the trouble to match the wire color to the flower. Quality is in the details. ”

  Fiona watched Meg regard her for a moment.

  “What?” Self-consciousness washed over her. She wiped her mouth. “Do I have something on my face?”

  “Actually, you’ve got something right here.” Meg pointed to the corner of her own mouth.

  Fiona wiped her mouth. “Did I get it?”

  “Other side.”

  “Ugh!” Fiona was embarrassed, wiping a bit of noodle from her lip. “You can’t take me anywhere.”

  Meg laughed. “Before the unfortunate noodle interruption, I was about to tell you, you’re a woman of startling contrasts.”

  “What do you mean?” Fiona was amused.

  “Well, my experience is that most lawyers don’t…” But Meg didn’t finish.

  Fiona tried to prompt her. “Most lawyers don’t what?”

  “What I mean to say is, lawyers usually lack, um, they don’t usually…” Fiona was amused to see Meg put her fork down and pull her hands down her face in frustration before she tried one more time. “Attorneys are awesome people, but they can be a lit
tle stiff sometimes. And you aren’t. That’s all that I meant.”

  “Because I’m a messy eater? I promise I can behave myself in a restaurant.” Fiona enjoyed seeing Meg flustered.

  Meg chuckled. “You’re funny. It’s other stuff. You notice details like wire colors on flowers and kitten belly buttons. Basically, what I should have said was, I’ve been around lawyers my whole life. Most of them are stuffy and rigid, but you’re not.”

  Fiona put down her fork. “Interesting. I’ve never been a very introspective person, but lately I’ve worried I was getting a little set in my ways—going through life with blinders on, you know? I don’t want to be that person.” She waved her hands in front of her belly. “I guess my situation has inspired me to re-evaluate stuff. It’s a little daunting, I have to admit.”

  “I think it would be weird if you didn’t get a little introspective, you know, in light of things.”

  “I’m playing everything by ear right now. I have no idea how things will go.” She wasn’t ready to talk about it yet. Hell, she could barely think about it. She picked up her fork. “But enough about me. Tell me why you decided to become a vet and not a lawyer in the tradition of your family. Was it the stiff thing you mentioned? You’re definitely not a stiff lawyerly person! Or was it simply you didn’t want to go into the same profession as your brother?”

  Fiona was grateful Meg followed her redirect. “It’s simple. I love animals. Only people who honestly love animals choose to go to school for as long as we do, foregoing most of the perks of a medical doctor.”

  “Perks?”

  “You know, little things like prestige and much higher pay. Vets definitely aren’t into it for the money, that’s for sure. Especially small town vets.”

  Fiona was intrigued by Meg’s answer. “It sounds like vets are in it for the right reasons. I can honestly say it isn’t the case with all lawyers. Sometimes we hate our clients, but we’re in it for the money, most of us.”