Life Interrupted (22 page)

His attitude shifts immediately and I work
to not feel guilty that I just used Gracie to divert him.  “Sure.  I’ll get the car-seat after school.”

“Perfect.”  He leans in and kisses me and though I usually pull away and remind him we’re in public, today I hold on, sinking into him, wrapping around him until both of us are breathless.

When he pulls away, he tilts my chin up and stares at me again.  “Rachel, whatever it is, we’ll fix it together, okay?”

I nod,
wondering how he always manages to say the right thing.  He kisses me again, hard and sure, before he heads off to class.

His words stay with me the rest of the day, so when I enter the locker room in the afternoon, I’m much calmer than I was when leaving it this morning.  Katie’s already there getting dressed
and I smile at her.

“Your hair’s normal again.”

              She finishes lacing up her shoe as I dump my bags and begin to strip out of my street clothes and tug on my practice gear.  “Yeah,” is all she says and switches to the next foot to repeat her process.  Knee pad on and up, sock, shoe, lace.  I tug on my dry fit and spandex before sitting down on the same bench and starting my own similar process. 

             
“You okay?”

             
“Fucking fantastic.”

             
I stop what I’m doing and stare at her.  Her brows are drawn together as she yanks the laces tight.  “Katie, what’s wrong?”

“Didn’t I just say I was fantastic?” she snaps and I raise a brow.

“Yeah, I can’t imagine why I don’t believe you.  Did you and Doug have a fight?”

             
“Fuck Doug.”

             
“Is that a yes?” Her lips twist into a smile before she can control it and I take advantage.  “Do I need to go kick someone’s ass, Katie? Because I’m definitely in the mood and now that I’m sleeping with Tripp for real, I think he’d come with me, and together we can really lay it down for Dougie Fresh.”

             
“Jesus, he’d probably shit himself.”

             
“I can take pictures if that event transcends.  You can have his embarrassment viral in a matter of seconds.”

             
Her smile is still there but her eyes are also haunted, her cheeks pale and her posture dejected.  Worry slams into me and I drop my foot to grab her hand.  “Katie, did he hurt you?” Visions of Marcus slamming me into the bathroom wall rush through my head and have me trembling with rage.  Not Katie, my petite little Katie who’s only ever wanted love.  She can’t handle anymore abuse, doesn’t
deserve
anymore. 

             
She looks up at me and though her face is pale, I can’t see any physical marks on it.  “No,” she says and I exhale loudly, nodding because I know she’s telling me the truth.  “He just can’t be what I need him to.  No one can.  Why do I need so much, Flow?”

             
Girls are filtering in and out of the locker area, chattering as they grab their gear and begin changing.  One look at me and Katie has them backing up and into a different aisle.  “What are you talking about, Katie? What happened?”

             
“I asked Doug to move in with me and he said we should slow down.”  She knuckles her eyes and I freeze, momentarily stunned.  “Dickhead.”

             
I nod.  “Agreed, but let’s go back.  When do you want to move in with him?”

             
She jerks her shoulder.  “After I graduate?  June, I guess.  I don’t know, it’s just that my mom’s moving to Vegas permanently with Lance now that I’m eighteen and I thought it would be nice to have someone to live with, you know? I could go to school here, or try LBCC if I don’t have the money and we could get a place on campus.  I thought that’s what he wanted, too.”

             
Though I’m beyond ready to kick Doug’s ass, there’s a part of me that’s also grateful that he said no, because if he didn’t care about Katie he’d have said yes to avoid hurting her, and then he’d have walked when things got tough, just like the rest of her family.  That rejection would be ten times worse.

             
“When did your mom tell you she was moving?” I ask and Katie shrugs again, swiping a hand under her eyes. 

             
“A few days after my birthday.”  Her eyes are haunted as she speaks, her pupils getting smaller and smaller, her face paler.  If possible, she’s shrinking in front of me, and even though I reach out and grab her hand, I know she’s going to break.  “I can go and visit her anytime I have a break from school.  They’d love to have me see their new place.”  She breaks then, her hands going to her face, her shoulders hunching as she sobs.  I wrap my arms around her and bring her to my chest in a gesture my own mother has used for me in the past, one I now use with Gracie when she’s really tired or sick. 

Katie curls into me, her arms reaching around and hooking up and over my shoulders, her tears hot as they soak through my shirt and into my skin.  She cries like I’ve never seen her cry—thinking back, I don’t know if I’ve ever seen her cry.  Yell, scream, walk out in a huff, pout; she’s done all of those several times, but cry?  And then it hits me that I’ve never seen Katie cry, not even when her dad was sent to prison.  She’s everyone’s champion, the girl who always stands for everyone else, her mom included, and when her dad left, she was the strong one.  Now, the person she took care of, the person who was supposed to think of her before anyone else is leaving her, and she has no one.

I think of talking to Kennedy last week and how she said she couldn’t tell her parents that she was pregnant, of how she was more scared of them than anything else.  I think of Mrs. Kash and what Flynny said about her trying to replace Marcus with Gracie.  And now of Katie, my beautiful Katie who has been ignored by the people who were supposed to love her, left when all she wanted was to be there for them, have them be there for her.  No matter how many boys she’s tried to fill the gap with, to try and just feel with, she’s still alone and it still hurts.

“Why doesn’t
anyone want me?” Her words are muffled as she cries them into my shoulder, but I can still feel them all the way to my core.  “What did I do wrong, Flow? Why won’t she stay? Why doesn’t Doug want to be with me?”

I know I don’t have the answer, but I can’t help myself from trying to give her one, to tell her the only truth I know and hope it gives her some kind of comfort.  “You’ve done nothing wrong, Katie,
nothing
.  Your mom, she’s young—the kind of young you never grow out of and she can’t see past what she thinks she wants.  That’s not your fault.”

And it’s not.  Katie’s mom was barely older than we are right now when she hooked up with Katie’s dad and got pregnant.  Since that day it’s like she’s forever been rooted in her teenage years, trying over and over again to find that fairytale ending she
’s always wanted.  What she hasn’t ever done is seen that her daughter needs her.  Gracie and what she’ll be like next year and the year after flits through my mind and I take a second to wonder if my inability to give up what I’ve always wanted will one day leave her crying like Katie is right now.

Lives change every day.  I’m living proof that one decision can alter the course of a person’s life until they’re so lost they have to sit down and find a different map.  The day I came out of my ultrasound holding my girl in all of her three dimensional glory, my course changed.  Until then I hadn’t decided, hadn’t really let myself think about the decision I had to make—that was
one of my skills before Gracie, ignoring things until it was absolutely impossible to ignore them anymore—but walking out of that ultrasound room at twenty-three weeks pregnant with the picture of my girl in my hand,
my
girl, the one with the perfect profile and my nose, already a diva in the womb as she posed for the camera (unlike the boy in the next room, who apparently would show his junk and his junk only), a finger pointed at me as if to say, “Mom, I’m almost there,” I knew I wasn’t going back.  I remember getting back into the car where Tripp was waiting, and then sitting there and telling him what I’d just decided.  I remember his silence as I showed him the picture, the awe and fear on his face as his eyes flipped to mine, linking our fingers as we stared at each other.  I gripped his hand and said nothing, but we both understood the same thing: my life was changed.  I was no longer going to be a division I athlete, I was going to be a mom. 

Over a year later, I’m back on the court, back to playing and working and driving, and I don’t know why, other than this is the one thing I couldn’t give up.  Parents have to sacrifice; I learned that from my own mother when I realized that she had chosen me over my father and his need for her constant attention and coddling.  S
he chose me and Stacy, but some parents don’t, and won’t ever, choose their children.  Katie’s mom is like that—always taking off, always ignoring her, always finding something and someone that keeps her occupied and leaves her daughter alone.  My own father, who truly believes that leaving was right, that staying gone was the best way to give me what I needed when all he really did was make me wonder if everyone did that.  Again, I think of Mrs. Kash and if she chose her son, or if she pushed him to where he is now.

Some
people just aren’t capable of sacrificing, of making the choice.  I was.  The minute I walked into the house and held my daughter at six months old, the minute I chose Gracie I drew a line, a line that was my life before her and a line that would be my life after her.  I separated everything I had and everything I was onto either side of the line, and those things that couldn’t adapt to who I was with her got erased.  Except for volleyball.

I couldn’t quit playing, couldn’t quit dreaming of that one piece of my future.  And here I am, dressing down like I do every day, getting ready to go out on that court and work my ass off for the tournament we have coming up in Reno at the end of the month.  It’s to qualify for junior Olympics, and both tournaments will be filled with college coaches, coaches who come from every university in every time zone to see if we can help make their team the best, and despite the fact that I’ve had a baby, they’ll still look at me, still think of offering me a scholarship if I can prove that I’m dedicated, that I haven’t let myself go soft or weak.  They can give me my dream, but holding Katie I’m not sure I can take it without taking Gracie’s chance to dream with it.

             
Katie’s mom is in town for a few more nights, so she declines my offer to come and hang out at my house.

             
“I love her—I know it’s stupid, and I might be asking to be hurt, but she’s my mom, Flow.  I want to be with her while I can.  As for Doug—” she shrugs.  “He’s not that good in bed anyway.”

             
I bark out a laugh and bring her in, holding her tight for a second before releasing her and telling her to call me if she needs anything.  A second after she leaves, my phone beeps and her name flashes.  When I swipe my finger across the screen and open the text, I laugh again.

Katie:
go get ya some;)

It’s only one line, but
it’s enough to let me know she’ll be okay.  I park at the curb outside my house and go inside to find Tripp and Gracie lounging on the floor playing with Legos, and I know without a doubt I’ll be okay, too.  Whatever Mrs. Kash thinks she has on me, it’s not real, and no matter how many mistakes I’ve made, I love my daughter, and anyone who really knows me knows that.  And then there’s Tripp, so willing to help me when I was so scared that I’d always be alone.  Now he’s here, not just here, but with me, and for some reason he makes me feel stronger, not weaker, for being able to depend on him. 

Dropping down beside him, I lean over and kiss him, my lips finding his and taking them.  It’s not a long kiss, especially since Gracie stands and begins pushing between us, her knee digging into Tripp’s chest until he’s forced to pull away, but it’s one that shows him everything I feel.

“Hi, gorgeous,” I say to Gracie and swing her up and over my head airplane style.  Tripp’s still staring at me when I glance at him and I smile.  “What?”

“What was that for?”

I shrug, playing it off.  “Because I can.  That okay?”

He nods and then points to his mouth again.  “I think you missed a little spot, though.”

“Oh yeah?”

He nods, and then he’s next to me, Gra
cie squealing as he takes her and tickles her while his lips find mine, devouring them in an intense and all too brief kiss.  Pulling back, he grins.  “That’s better.  I’ll make dinner.  Pasta okay?”

I nod, unable to breathe. 
More than okay
, I think and lay there while my heart settles and I listen to Gracie’s feet patter into the kitchen followed by Tripp’s quieter steps.  Whatever happens, we’ll be okay.

~

              I have to admit that although I’m capable of raising my daughter on my own, having someone else to share her with, someone who loves her and me in that way that makes my heart hurt, makes things a little easier.  Bath time takes twice as long with Tripp here, but I don’t mind as I laugh while he lets Gracie splash him—breaking all of the rules I worked hard with Stacy and my mom to implement (rules Stacy assured me were the foundation for a happy kid, and though I hate to admit it, she wasn’t wrong)—shooting baskets into the small hoop with palm trees on it that’s attached to the side of the tub.  When he gets her dressed in her jammies and offers to read bedtime stories and settle her down for the night, I start to decline.  I’m used to this being my time with her, and then I remember that he’s offering not just to help me, but because he wants to.

             
Swallowing back my refusal, I nod.  “Sure.  Lovey’s in her crib, and she likes Boynton at bedtime. 
Moo Baa La
and
Barnyard Dance
, sometimes
Snuggle Puppy
.”

             
He nods and kisses me, long and sweet before pulling back and swatting my ass in a friendly gesture.  “Go shower.  I’ll come find you when I’m done.”

             
I smile and do just that.  Thirty minutes later when I come out of the bathroom, Tripp is leaning back against my pillows on my bed, his bare feet crossed at the ankles, the monitor held lightly in his hand, his eyes closed.  They open when I close the door, and his lids are heavy, those eyes dark and sleepy.

             
I secure the towel around me and smile.  “Hey.”

He’s just tired enough that I see his move before
it comes, but I don’t avoid it; instead I’m smiling as I fall to the bed.  When I’m pinned beneath him, he grins down at me.  “Hey yourself.”

“Gracie asleep?”

He nods.  “How was the shower?”

“Good.”  I reach my hand up and brush it across his face, tracing the line of his cheekbone, down to his lips, lower to his jaw.  “Thanks for being here.” 

“Always,” he murmurs and then his lips are on mine and my hands leave the towel to anchor themselves at his back in the fabric of his t-shirt.  I know we have to talk, that I have things to tell him, but I haven’t been with him in too long and everything inside of me craves everything inside of him.  Soon, my towel is parted and I’m yanking his t-shirt up and off, my knees bending to bring him closer. 

“Touch me.”  I hear the words escape my mouth and then his lips are
at my throat, journeying down to my collarbone, my breasts, my belly.  When they come back to mine, I wrap my arms around his neck and give him everything I have, pushing at the remainder of his clothes, desperate to feel all of him, to move with him.

“I love you,” he says as we come together.  His weight is on his forearms and he’s looking down at me, his jaw clenching as I arch into him, and still, he doesn’t move, not yet.  “Rachel, I love you.  Always.”

I nod, understanding his need to say the words, and my own to give them back.  “Love you back.  Always.”  And then we’re all feeling, all movement, sighs and clashing mouths, falling into oblivion together.

~

I’m on my stomach with my arms wrapped around a pillow.  My hair is only damp now, and my eyes are closed as my bare skin shivers at the gentle sweep of Tripp’s fingers.  Up and over, down all along my spine to my lower back and beneath the covers, back up my side along my ribcage and the side of my breast, over and up my shoulder blades to the curve of my neck.  We’ve been laying here for some time—minutes, an hour, I don’t really know—and I’ve already told him about Mrs. Kash, from the day I saw Gabriella in the locker room to the first time Mrs. Kash met me in the parking lot, to yesterday when I told her no, she couldn’t meet my daughter, and then the photos. 

He asked minimal questions, holding me the entire time.  When I finished, he stayed quiet, only murmuring the small “
I got you.  I’m here, Rachel, you aren’t alone anymore.”  And though I know I’m one of the lucky few who have never been alone, I understand his meaning.  We’re a unit, a couple, and he won’t make me fight this battle alone.  If I were the swooning type, I might have fallen at his feet in gratitude at that moment when he brought me close and whispered those words, but since I’m not, I did the next best thing and rocked his world a second time (and I think he appreciated that more than the weeping expression of gratitude).

Now h
is fingers travel up into my hair, sweeping it away from my cheek to trace to my cheekbone, my jaw, and I muster up the energy to open my eyes and look at him.  He’s on his side, resting his weight on one elbow while he uses his free hand to stroke me.  The look in his eyes is reverent, as is his touch, and for a second I wonder if it can really be this perfect.  Like each person’s individual fingerprints, are Tripp and I unique in our feelings, or does everyone have this bone deep desire for the person they love? Is it so consuming, so fulfilling that they crave more even as they’re feeding on it?

“What are you thinking?”

I smile because I know that should be my line, but I don’t tease him.  I feel too good to be a smartass right now.  “That we’d better get dressed because my mom will be home soon.”

He nods and shifts until he’s sitting, the sheet falling around his waist.  I turn a little and stare at him, perfectly comfortable to ogle him while he scrubs his hands over his face.  If I reach out to trace my fingers over his chest
, who can blame me?

“You’re pretty
hot,” I tell him as he jams his feet into his jeans and pulls them up. 

He laughs and leans over
the bed to kiss me.  “So are you.  Especially right now.”  His fingers tug playfully at the sheet I’ve pulled up to cover myself and I knock them away.

Slipping out of bed, I grab a t-
shirt and some sweats and pull them on.  He grabs the monitor and we walk out to the kitchen together.  I get spoons and a carton of ice-cream and set it between us before sitting in the stool next to him.

“You’re going to tell your mom, right?”

I nod and scoop some Java Chip into my mouth.  “Yeah.  I probably should have told her when this all started with Marcus that night.”  When he smiles and says, “Oh really?” I roll my eyes.  “Yes, Tripp, you were right.  Happy?”

“You have no idea.  You should probably just get used to saying that.” 

“Not likely.”

“
I had to try,” he says with a grin.  “What’s your plan for Mrs. Kash?”

I shake my head.  “Nothing, I guess.  Wait her out? I mean, what other options do I have? Until Marcus makes a move, or she actually asks for something, there’s nothing I can do.”

“Well, there’s one thing. Until something happens, until Marcus stops popping up places, I’m taking you to your morning workouts with Coach.”

I snort. 
“I don’t need a babysitter, Tripp.  And Marcus is more of a night owl than an early bird.  Comes with the job description.”

“Make as many jokes as you want
, but you don’t need to take any chances, and we both know it.  Don’t bother, Rachel,” he says when I open my mouth to argue again.  “You know it’s stupid to be alone, just like you know it was stupid to try and handle Mrs. Kash alone.”

The agreement that I was about to choke out slides back down my throat and
the familiar urge to punch him burns bright and deep.  “Keep calling me stupid and I’ll show you just how capable I am of taking care of myself.”

He shrugs. 
“You can punch me, but I won’t change my mind.  Think, Rachel,” he says when I open my mouth to speak.  “What happens if you’re alone and Marcus gets angry and follows you to practice, or to G’s, or home and threatens you in front of Gracie? What if something happens and you and she are alone with no one else to help you protect her?”

This stops me. 
I’m a little appeased that he acknowledges I can protect her, but a little shaken up at the picture his words paint.  “You don’t really think he would.  He hasn’t touched me or tried to make contact since January.”

He
nods.  “But he’s seen you, kept tabs on you, and his mother isn’t happy she didn’t get her way.  You said it yourself, Ms. Flynn thinks he’ll escalate.  She thinks he’s a threat, Rachel, and I agree.  I don’t care if you like it, you’ll just have to adjust because I’m not risking you, and I’m not risking Gracie.”

              I sit where I am, my spoon tapping the side of the ice-cream carton.  I agree with his reasoning, but I’m spiteful enough to want to argue anyway.  When I come up with nothing, I exhale loudly and shovel in more Java Chip.  “I hate it when you’re right.  It makes me want to punch you.”

             
He laughs and steels the carton from me.  When my mom gets home, she grabs a glass of wine and sits at the counter while I tell her everything.  When I finish, her eyes are narrowed and her face is flushed with anger. 

             
When she speaks, her voice is tight, and I understand where I get my temper.  My father would have probably told me to sit down and wait it out, to hope for the best or something equally passive that isn’t really advice.  Not my mom.  She stands and addresses me first, her eyes glowing.  “You’re a good mother, Rae, and I will not stand and let someone else threaten you.  That being said, stop being an idiot and trying to keep everything to yourself.  It’s unreasonable and annoying.”

             
Tripp laughs and I pierce him with a glare.  He shrugs.  “I told you.”

             
My mom turns to him and smiles.  “Jackson, you’re smarter than most.  Thanks for being here.”

             
He nods and I roll my eyes again.  “Where are you going now?” I ask her.

             
She smiles fiercely.  “To call my lawyer.  Melanie Kash isn’t the only one who has leverage in this town.”

~

              “I think I have breast cancer.”

             
“Stacy?”

             
“Who else would it be?”

             
“A nightmare.”  I push up in bed and pull the phone far enough away to glance at the time. 
Hello, two a.m
.  “Stace, why do you think you have breast cancer?”

             
“My nipples feel engorged and sore.  And the shape of my breasts has totally changed.  Is that normal? I mean, my books say that you shouldn’t really start getting milk for a while.  I’m only four months pregnant, what if something’s wrong with me? What if I’m one of the one in three thousand women who discover breast cancer when they’re pregnant?”