Текст книги "Wet"

Автор книги: Ruth Clampett

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She’s full on sobbing by the time I carry her to the living room and sink down onto the couch, still holding her tightly against me. I slowly run my hand across her head and down her back over and over, imagining what this experience would be like if it were my kid. Would she feel differently than as distraught as she seems to be right now? Would she want our baby as much as I would? I ache because I wish it were mine and that’s messed up to even be thinking about when she’s so defeated by the news.

My shirt is soaked and my arm numb by the time the tears quiet. She tilts her face up to look at me.

“What am I going to do, Paul?”

“I would think you’d want to take a little time to figure out what your heart wants you to do.”

She lets out a long sigh and nods.

I can’t help but be tender with her. My heart is broken—not just for what we could have been, but for the tough decisions she has ahead of her. I brush her hair off her damp forehead.

“I must say, Elle, I think you’d make an incredible mom.”

I watch two streams of tears slowly make their way down her cheeks. “I’m not so sure I would,” she says quietly. “How could I properly take care of a baby with my irregular work schedule and travel? There are some events where I have no idea when I’ll get home.”

“But what about Stephan? He would be helping.”

At the mention of his name she squeezes her eyes shut and grimaces. “Stephan,” she sighs.

“What? This baby is his responsibility, too.”

“Yes, but can you imagine? He’d seal the baby in a germ-free bubble. Besides, he’s the least fatherly man I know.”

“I’ll take your word on that. You’d have a super clean baby for sure.” I try to give her a warm smile. “He’d probably wear surgical gloves to change a diaper.”

“Oh I can promise you that he’d never change a dirty diaper.”

“He might surprise you. Fatherhood changes people. I have a friend from college that could be such an ass, but when his son was born he changed completely . . . at least around his kid. He’s a total mush head now.”

She lets out an awkward laugh.

“What?”

“I just remembered my junior high health teacher telling us to never sleep with someone unless you think they’d make a good parent. She was only trying to scare us out of sex, but now I see the wisdom in her words. I should’ve listened.”

“Don’t be so hard on yourself. I know better than anyone that the need for sex can make us do things we wouldn’t necessarily do.”

She nods and leans into my chest again.

“You just need to tell him so you can figure the rest out. Hopefully, together,” I say.

“Okay,” she whispers.

Her eyes glaze over and I wonder what she’s thinking deep in her heart. Elle is a worldly woman. I don’t need to tell her that there are several choices she can make regarding the baby. It’s not my baby, nor my body, so I intend to support her with whatever she chooses.

She makes an effort to sit up and I help her until she’s upright with her legs hanging off the couch. “I think I need to go to bed,” she says.

“Yes, get some sleep. You can call Stephan tomorrow.”

When we get to her front door I turn to face her, placing both of my hands on her shoulders. “Will you let me know how the talk with him goes?”

She bites her lip but nods. “Yes.”

I run my hands down her arms. “I want you to know that I’m here for you, whatever decision you make. Just promise me you won’t sell yourself short. I meant what I said. You’ll be an incredible mom.”

She brushes new tears away and steps up close so I can wrap my arms around her. “Paul, what would I do without you? Your kindness means so much to me. You’re such a good friend.”

And I’ll never be more than that now . . .

My chest hurts as that raw truth hits me.

“Good men make good friends,” I say with a hug. “I’ll call you tomorrow.”

I hold it together as I take several steps down her walkway and turn to wave good– bye. But I clench my fists all the way to the car and my jaw is locked as I pull my door shut. In the silence of my car I finally let out my frustration.

“Damn it all,” I yell as I slam my forehead against the steering wheel. “Why? Why?”

I want to punch my fist through the windshield and then track down the Viking and beat the crap out of him for having a timeshare in Maui when he hates sand. It’s all his fault that I no longer have a chance with Elle.

I feel a stinging in my eyes and I flip down my visor mirror. What the hell? Are those tears glazing my eyes? I never cry. I point at my reflection. “Don’t you dare cry, asshole. Don’t you dare!” I slam the visor back up.

As I fire up my engine my mind goes dark places. How tragically ironic that the night we learn that Elle has a new life growing inside of her is the same night my hope, for the life I finally realized I want, has died.

Chapter Nine

THE HERO

The next two days at work are living hell. I’m worried about Elle, and not sure what I can do to help her. She texts me to let me know she’s meeting with the Viking after work on Tuesday. She promises to text me whether he took the news better than she’d hoped, or worse.

Stephan isn’t the only thing I’m concerned about in regards to Elle. I’m worried she isn’t taking good care of herself and my internet research has shown that her health habits in this first trimester are key. At lunch I go to the pharmacy in the building across from our office and get a recommendation from the pharmacist for pre-natal vitamins. As I pay for the purchase it occurs to me that she may have trouble keeping them down. I hope she does better with them than she did with her Double-Double.

By early evening Tuesday I find myself lingering behind at work and doodling at my drafting table while I try to imagine how I would take the news if it were my baby, and not the Viking’s. I know I’d be a better dad than him. As soon as the kid was old enough I’d start taking him to the park so we could play in the sand box barefoot together. Hell, I’d buy a sandbox for our house, and I sure as hell wouldn’t be caught dead in those pussy water shoes.

Our kid would know sand, and messy hand paintings and food all over their little face. We’d pitch tents in the living room, and there’d be Lego pieces under every piece of furniture or tucked into every cushion crevice. I’d smile at every sticky fingerprint because I’d know that they were like footprints in the road proving I was on the right path with my life.

I pick up my phone and check it again. Nothing. By 7:30 I can’t take it any longer and I text her.

You okay?

She responds almost immediately.

No.

Is he still there?

No.

I’m on my way.

I curse him the entire drive over. Motherfucker. How could he leave her alone after the news she just shared? My hate for him hits new levels. I plot revenge the entire ride over so that I hardly notice the drive. When I arrive the front door is cracked open and I find Elle in the living room sitting in the corner of the couch.

She looks terrified, like a little girl accidently left behind at the bus depot.

I hate seeing her like this and I’m so amped up I can’t sit down. “What happened?”

She curls forward and rubs her fingers over her scalp nervously. “Well, to start with he said it wasn’t his.”

Motherfucker did not!

“Classy. Did he forget that you were in paradise together when it happened?” “According to him that doesn’t mean for sure it’s his.”

I grit my teeth so hard my jaw hurts. “So what’s he saying, that you got it on with the cabana boy in Maui?”

“I have no idea what he’s thinking. He insists it wasn’t him, and he also disputes that there was a problem with his condom.”

“That’s big of him. I think all of those cleaning products have gone to his head.

But what can you expect from a man who is afraid of sand?”

“You know, I didn’t expect for a second that he’d be happy about the news, but I didn’t think he’d stoop so low as to say it couldn’t possibly be his.”

“He’s a dirty scumbag. Don’t let all those bottles of sanitizer fool you.”

“I told him that I’m more than willing to do a paternity test if he needs reassurance, but I’m sure it’s his.”

“So what plan did you guys make?”

“Well he left without any kind of plan. As a matter of fact, he said not to contact him and that his lawyer would make sure that he was not responsible for any child support.”

“Are you serious? What kind of man would do this?” I ask as I feel the fury work its way up my neck.

She looks up at me with the saddest eyes I’ve ever seen. “Not a good man.”

Pressing her hands over her face, she starts to cry. I sit down on the couch and slide my arm over her shoulder so she can lean into me. “I’m so sorry, Elle.”

She silently nods as the tears stream down her face. We sit like that for a few minutes and then she clears her throat. “What am I going to do?”

“Just take things one step at a time, that’s what my dad always says. Hey, how about a walk? It’ll be good for you.” I want to say it’ll be good for the baby, too, but I stop myself.

We’re silent and walk almost to the corner before she turns to me. “This was a good idea. I needed to get out of the house.”

“Me too. When we get back let’s burn some candles to get the Viking stink out of your home.”

The corners of her mouth turn up the tiniest bit. “Good idea.”

Two kids wiz by us on their bikes and I watch them until they turn the corner. I’ve always liked this neighborhood but now I’m seeing it in a new perspective. It’s a family kind of place. “This seems like a great area to raise a kid in.”

“It is. That’s part of what drew me to living here. I know I don’t come off as the most maternal person because of my upbringing, but do you know when I was little I was fixated on being a mom? I had a baby dolly that I treated like a real baby. I had a little stroller for it and everything. I loved taking care of it.”

It makes my chest hurt to know she had a dream and life sucked the beauty out of it. “I bet you were a cute kid.”

She smiles. “I’ll have to show you pictures some time.”

“I’d like that. So you make it sound like your attitude about being a mom changed over the years.”

Her expression falls. “I blame a lot of that on my mom. She was always telling me how much work I was, how she couldn’t get a good job or make decent money to support us because she had no help raising me.”

“Where was your dad?”

“Apparently off drinking somewhere. There was a point where her schedule changed at the restaurant she worked at, so she had no choice after school but to drop me off at one of those youth center places with strange people lurking around. I’d have a paper bag with a sandwich and juice box for my dinner. I was only in the second grade.

“Luckily the director of the center took a liking to me and she took me under her wing. She gave me little jobs and taught me how to be strong and self-reliant. It was probably around that time, where I was spending time around kids that were neglected, that made me realize maybe I wasn’t meant to be a mother. If my mom couldn’t handle it, why would I think I could?”

“And what do you think now?”

She lets out a long sigh. “That’s what I’m trying to figure out.”

“You know Elle, sometimes the best way to learn is from poor examples that teach you what not to do.”

“I suppose you’re right. Unfortunately, I have a long list there.”

“And you aren’t your mother.”

“Thank you. I hope not. I don’t want to end up bitter and angry at the world like she is.”

“That director lady was right . . . you’re strong and self-reliant.”

She loops her arm through mine. “So enough about me. What about you, do you want to have a kid one day?”

I shake my head.

Her expression falls. “You don’t?”

“No, I don’t want a kid, I want a whole lot of kids. You know those reality shows with the super-sized families? When I was younger I wanted a super-sized family. We would be our own village. How cool would that be?”

“You’re insane,” she says with a laugh. “That’s a baby factory, not a family.”

“But I’d have my own posse.”

“You say all this like it’s a good thing.”

“I used to be a camp counselor—four years at Camp Yallani. I loved the little tykes. The more little ones swarming around me, the better.”

“Sounds like chaos.”

I grin. “Managed chaos.”

“So you better get moving on this big idea. You’re getting a little old to have a super-sized family.”

I let out a long exaggerated sigh. “I know. I’ve had to downsize my dreams.”

She purses her lips. “Plus you have to find a woman with breeding tendencies who has lots of ideas for first names that start with the same letter. That’s the rule with big families, right? Something like: Timmy, Terry, Teresa, Tess, Thomas, Taylor, Toodles . . .”

My eyes grow wide. “Toodles?”

She nods. “Catchy, right? You need at least one wacky, far-out name.”

“Sorry . . . Toodles is a no. And you’ve nailed the biggest issue. It’s not easy to find women who will let their vejays be clown cars.”

She sputters a laugh and her cheeks turn hot pink. “Yeah, great point. Good luck with that.”

It’s great to see her happy even if it’s just for a minute.

I glance up and realize that we’re almost back to her house. “I’m going to walk you in and then I’ll take off. You ate dinner, right?”

She gazes off in the distance. “No. I didn’t have a chance.”

I give her a stern look. “You know I’m not going to put up with that.”

“Aren’t you the bossy one?”

Once we’re in her kitchen I fish through the fridge and pull out some stuff. “I’m going to scramble some eggs so you get protein.”

She slaps her hand over her mouth and shakes her head. “No eggs! Just the idea of them makes me gag right now.”

I put the egg carton back in and continue with my foraging. “How about some fruit and yogurt?”

“I think I can handle that, thanks.”

I quickly cut up the fruit and mix in the yogurt, then slide the bowl over to her. “Eat up.”

She digs in. “Mmm. This is good!” She waves her spoon in the air.

“Awesome.” I settle on one of the stools and lean my elbows on the counter while I watch her eat. It’s a glorious thing to behold, especially when she licks the spoon clean and runs her tongue across her sweet lips.

I suddenly remember something. Grabbing my jacket, I find the bottle of pre-natal vitamins in the pocket. As I return to the kitchen I remove the protective seal and get the bottle open before shaking out a vitamin. After setting it on the counter, in front of her, I pour her a glass of water.

“What’s this?” She holds the capsule between her fingers and lifts it to the light.

“A pre-natal vitamin. The pharmacist said this is the best brand.”

Her jaw goes slack and her eyes fill up with tears so fast that it makes my eyes bug out. A second later her lower lip starts to wobble and she looks unsteady.

I lean forward. “You okay? You suddenly don’t look so good. You can wait to take the vitamin if you’re worried it will upset your stomach . . .”

She does this weird wave of her hands and then lets out a sob before slinking off her stool and fleeing the room.

I’m stunned. What did I do wrong? Maybe I was too pushy. The website I was reading warned me that her hormones are in flux and she could be prone to wide swings of emotion.

I gingerly walk to the doorway and pause so I can listen carefully for her. I hear crying with the occasional wail. Damn. I must’ve really fucked up.

Gathering up my courage, I step into her room.

“Elle?”

The only reply is a sob and she turns away on the huge bed. In her vulnerable state this bed feels like it could swallow her up.

“I’m sorry I upset you . . . really sorry. I’m just trying to help, and . . .”

She sits up and turns around, staring at me like I’ve lost my mind. With her puffy eyes and crazy hair she looks positively unhinged.

“Sorry!” she yells. “You’re sorry?”

I jam my hands in the back pockets of my jeans and shrug. “Yeah, I’m sorry I upset you. I didn’t mean to.”

She sits up taller on the bed and bends her knees so she can fold them against her chest and then she takes several deep breaths. “I’m not acting like a crazy woman because you upset me, Paul. I’m crying because I just can’t believe you.”

I extend my arms out in frustration. She’s going to make me work for this. “But I haven’t lied about anything.”

Her head falls until her chin is touching her chest. After a few seconds she lifts her head back up and observes me with sad eyes, then holds her hands out toward me. “Come here.”

I step closer and take her hands in mine. She pulls me down until I’m sitting on the edge of the bed and I hike up my knee on the mattress so I can turn toward her.

“Look at me,” she commands.

I do, and I see a fierceness in her eyes. I can sense that everything about Elle has changed. In her expression I see a mama lion, a woman who’s invincible.

“What?” I whisper.

She scoots toward me and her grip tightens over my hands.

“I need you to understand something.”

“Okay.”

“No one. No one, Paul . . . has ever treated me like you have.”

The tears are streaming down her face now and I have to turn away. It’s so much emotion . . . a blazing fireball. It’s more than I can take.

She yanks hard on my arm to get my attention again. “No one has ever been so kind, so supportive . . . Paul you bought me and my baby pre-natal vitamins. I am speechless.”

Well, technically she isn’t speechless since she’s still talking but things seem to be going my way now, so I keep my mouth shut.

She wipes both hands across her face to catch the torrent of tears. This isn’t her most attractive moment, but even in a state of despair, I still think she’s beautiful.

She quiets so I decide to speak. “It was easy for me to do and the vitamins are really important to start early in the first trimester. I’ll send you the link for the study I was reading—”

Fisting the front of my shirt, she yanks me toward her. “Are you paying attention to what I’m saying?”

“I’m trying—I swear.”

“It’s your kindness Paul. You’re amazing, and I will adore you forever for what you’ve done for me. You’ve given me more than hope tonight. You’ve made me believe I can do this and be all right.”

Okay, this is good. This seems to be going better now. I decide to run with it.

“You’re the amazing one, Elle. I know you will be more than okay.”

She crumbles back onto the bed and starts sobbing again. Holy hormones! I’m starting to see that this is not a job for the weak-willed man. I need to be strong.

I flop down on my back next to her and despite her protests, I tuck her into the crook of my arm. She cries and cries while I make cooing sounds to try to calm her. I’m sure all this upset isn’t good for the baby.

“You really think I can do this?” she asks.

“Absolutely. I hope you don’t mind me asking . . . but can I be Uncle Paul? I may spoil the little tyke a bit.”

She sobs again. Geez

“You would be Uncle Paul?” she asks in between tears.

“Yeah, I’d love that. And I can take care of the baby when you need help. Hell, if we get my parents on board they’ll want to babysit. My mom is absolutely wild about babies and small kids.”

“I really like your parents,” she says in a soft, sleepy voice.

I skim my fingers lightly over her back, back and forth, as I feel her settle into me. “Yeah, they may make me nutty at times but they’re really good people.”

A minute later I realize her breathing is deeper and she’s fallen asleep. We lie together like that for a long time. I like her in my arms and I like being with her on her bed. It might be wrong to feel this way under these circumstances, but I can’t help it.

I replay in my head all the emotions she shared with me tonight, from despair to hope and back again. I didn’t think she had it in her to be so emotional, but despite that she seems to be holding on. I try to picture her as a young girl being left at that kid’s center without her mom or friends and it gets me in the gut. Maybe her mom just couldn’t see a better way, but I have to think there could’ve been one.

Despite all that Elle rose above her circumstances and made something of herself. Now I’m more impressed with her than ever.

It’s just past midnight when my eyes open with a start and I realize I’ve dozed off. Elle’s curled even closer to me now, and I have to gently scoot away as not to wake her. I wander into the kitchen and find a pad on the desk so I can leave her a note.

Back in the bedroom, I carefully remove her shoes, open the folded blanket at the foot of the bed, and drape it over her. I prop up my note on the bedside table so she’ll see it as soon as she wakes.

It’s lunch time when my phone prompts and I look at the screen to see it’s her.

“Hey Elle, how are you feeling?”

“Nauseous but otherwise okay.”

“I put that fruit and yogurt in the fridge last night. Can you try to eat that?”

“I’ll try. How are you doing?”

“Fine, doing the work thing . . . figuring out tree installations. Are you working today?”

“I slept straight through my first call of the day so I decided to cancel my meetings and take the day off. I’ve made an appointment with my OB/Gyn.”

“Good, I’m glad you’re going. Do you need a ride?”

“No I think I can swing it. But thanks for the offer.”

“Any time.”

“I was thinking I’d like to cook you dinner. Are you free Friday night?”

“Sure, what’s the occasion?”

“To thank you.”

I rub my chin as I try to figure out what this is about. “For what?”

She lets out a happy sigh. “For everything.”

“That’s kind of vague.”

“Okay, how about for being a good man.”

“It’s a little wide-sweeping, but I’ll take it.”

“I promise on Friday to be more specific.”

I grin into my phone. “Excellent. So call me later, okay?”

“I will.”

I feel good all day. Really good, like my life is in order and I’m grounded to something bigger now. But how can the chaos of Elle’s accidental pregnancy and my compulsion to be her port in a storm, make me feel so settled? It’s freaking weird.

I decide not to be an idiot who questions everything and just go with it. Elle texts me in the afternoon to let me know the appointment went well and the good feelings expand with the news.

I take a longer run after work and skip my beer that night. It’s like I’m a new man, the kind of man I can actually feel positive about.

By the time I arrive for dinner Friday this new scenario between us is feeling normal. Elle’s been impregnated by a Viking, and I’ve traded my dream future as her passionate boyfriend for being a doting uncle to her baby. I’m not sure why it seems to make sense but it does, like we’ve stepped into an alternate universe and find that it’s not bad at all. When she opens the front door I hand her a book on pregnancy for working women and a little stuffed lamb instead of a bottle of wine.

Judging from her reaction to the gifts, I’m totally rocking this uncle thing.

She clutches the gifts to her chest and kisses me on the cheek. “I hope you’re hungry.”

“Famished.”

She sits me down in the kitchen and pours me some wine while she finishes up the beef stroganoff.

“So what did the doctor say?”

“Well first of all she said I’m in really good health which bodes well for the pregnancy. She said I can keep up with my exercise routine as long as I don’t push it.”

“You mean the balls and straps?” I narrow my eyes. “Are you sure that’s okay? I’m not sure I like that.”

Laughing, she shakes her head. “No, I’m staying away from the balls and straps, but I also do the cross country ski machine, so I’m going to keep that up.”

I let out a relieved breath. “Okay. Good to know.”

“And she was very impressed with your choice of pre-natal vitamins and diligence in getting me on them right away.”

“Well I’m determined to be a do-the-right-thing kind of guy.”

“Indeed.”

“So when do you see her again?”

“In four weeks. It’s the appointment after that we hear the heartbeat.”

I look up at her expectantly. I wonder if she’d feel weird about me coming along. “That’s really cool,” I say as I glance down and take a bite of the salad she’s just put in front of me.

“Would you like to come?”

My head pops up and I can’t stop myself from grinning ear to ear. “Yeah! That’d be great.” After taking another bite of my salad I ask, “So what else did she say?”

“We talked about the challenges of being a single working mom. So she talked about building a support circle. It takes a village, and all that . . .”

“Right,” I say, nodding.

“I’m still scared out of my mind, but she reminded me that women all over the world do it every day. There are some good daycare places around here and with my flexible schedule I’ll have more quality time than a lot of working parents.”

“There you go,” I say encouragingly.

She takes a long sip of her water. “And we talked about sex.”

My mouth falls open and I set my fork down. I thought we were done with that subject for quite a while. “What about sex?”

“Why I want it all the time now.”

I feel the blood drain out of my face. “But you wanted it all the time before. You mean you want it even more now?”

“I do. She says it’s the hormones, but how am I going to manage all of this raging physical need?”

Oh dear God.

“Please tell me you aren’t going to start up Tinder again.”

“Oh no!” She looks alarmed. “That would be crazy.”

“Good. You were scaring me.”

She pulls her shoulders back and straightens up. “And look. My boobs are bigger. I guess they’re going to be huge by the time I deliver.”

“They were already pretty big.”

“And they’re really sensitive, but in a good way.”

In order to know this, she must be touching them a lot.

I can imagine her touching herself way too vividly in my head. I’m sure I’ll be imagining her skimming her fingertips over her breasts and softly pinching her nipples while I’m in the shower tonight.

“Um, wow, that must be cool.”

“Except that I want to touch them all the time.”

“Even now?”

“Especially now . . . well, you know, since we’re talking about it.”

I lean back in the chair to adjust myself. My jeans are too damn tight right now. “Well, don’t let me stop you. Be my guest.”

She cups her hands over her breasts and squeezes a few times with her eyes closed. A huge smile spreads across her face as she lets out a satisfied sigh. “Oh, that feels so good.”

This woman . . . Am I in in a dream—like one of my dreams when I was twelve and obsessed with breasts?

I feel kind of drugged watching her, like the walls in the room are wavy and her large, amazing breasts are all I can see. My hard-on is getting painful. “You know you’re making me crazy, right?”

She drops her hands down and bites her lip. “Sorry about that.”

“You should be. You know about my issues,” I say with a mock stern voice.

“I got carried away. It’s just all so fascinating how different my body feels.”

“So how are you going to manage this? It’s not like you can be touching yourself in public.”

“I went sexual relief shopping after the appointment.”

She carries over from the desk a bag from a bookstore and starts lifting out the contents. Each new book looks smuttier than the last.

I nod. “Impressive.” Frankly I’m just so relieved she won’t be looking for real sex in the world at large that I’m in full support of her lack of regard for fine literature. “Well, you’ve got hours of fun ahead of you with that selection.”

“Wait, I’m not done. I also went to the Pleasure Chest.”

“The dildo place?”

“Oh they’ve got everything.”

“But I thought you already had a vibrator.”

“I do, but I’m afraid my deluxe rabbit has to be put out to pasture for a while. It’s just too intense and I’m ultra-sensitive right now.”

“Back in the day one of my hook-ups showed me her rabbit. That thing is crazy! Is what you usually use?”

She winks. “I like it intense, but now it’s just too much.”

I lean back in my chair. “Wow.”

For a moment I allow myself to imagine what it would have been like if we’d met during my wild days and before she was married. Without a doubt the sex would’ve been mind-blowing.

I watch her open up the package for the simple vibrator, unscrew the back and slide the batteries inside. She turns it on and strokes it, then gives it a nod of approval. “Much less intense.”

“Are you going to demonstrate it for me?”

“You wish,” she says with a teasing tone while glancing down at my plate. “Hey eat up. Your Stroganoff is getting cold.”