Life Interrupted (23 page)

             
I lean back against the pillows and scrub my free hand over my face.  “Stacy Ann, get off of the internet.”

             
There’s silence on the other side of the line for a minute.  “I’m not on the internet.”

             
“Please.  You’re a terrible liar, you always have been.  Comes from being perfect most of your life.  Get off of WebMD, Stacy.  You do not have breast cancer, you have a baby in your belly who’s high-jacking your hormones and taking you to Crazytown.”

             
“Rae, this is serious.  My breasts are changing shape and my nipples feel different.”

             
“Of course they feel different, they
are
different.  Wait until it’s your hoo-hah.”

“What? What does that
even mean?”

“It means that y
ou’re pregnant, Stace, so shit changes and sometimes it feels weird.  Other times it just feels really bad.” 

             
“Maybe I should take a picture and send it to you.”

             
This has my eyes snapping open.  “Jesus Christ, don’t do that.  I repeat, do
not
take a picture and send it.  Call mom if you want advice that includes staring at your naked boobs or anything else.”

             
“I did, she said I was being a hypochondriac and told me to go to bed.”

             
“So naturally you called me.”

“Well, I need to talk to someone.”

Like a therapist
, I think but wisely keep that to myself.  “Why don’t you ask Nick?”

             
“He doesn’t have boobs, he won’t know if they look weird.”

             
I want to tell her that he’s the one person who
should
know if they look and feel different, but I know she won’t respond to my humor, so instead I laugh because there’s nothing else to do, and after a minute, I hear her let out a chuckle, and another, until we’re both giggling like idiots over the phone.  “Christ, I’m going crazy.”

             
“I hate to break it to you, big sister, but you’ve always been crazy.  Pregnancy has just funneled it all into one place.”  I pause to catch my breath.  With a sigh, I lean my head back against the headboard.   “Get off the internet, Stace, it only makes things worse.  If you’re really worried, go see your doctor tomorrow.”

             
Her laugh is short and sarcastic.  “I’m afraid she’ll run the other way and refer me to someone else if I call her again.”  Then she takes a deep breath.  “Okay, I’m getting off of the internet.  And I won’t go for a mammogram just yet, but no promises that it won’t happen before the end of this.”

             
“One day at a time.”

             
“So they say.  Tell me about you.  Mom says you’re being threatened by crazy Kash and his family.”

             
“Ha, not really by him, though I think he’d like nothing more than to make me disappear.  His mom found out about Gracie, and when I told her I wasn’t interested in sharing Gracie with her or letting her help me with my future, she pulled out the big guns and sent me some photos.”

             
“Bad?”

             
“Bad enough.  More irritating than anything now that I’ve calmed down.  I hate being backed into a corner, and I hate that someone’s trying to bully me and I can’t confront her about it.”

             
“Why can’t you?”

             
“Because punching her isn’t the way to prove her wrong, however satisfying.”

             
“Well, no, but you can go see her, meet her somewhere and explain exactly why she can’t see your daughter.  Tell her exactly what her son did when you were pregnant, what he does every day that every person in this town knows about.  And tell her you’ll go to the top defense lawyer in all of Oregon with proof if she threatens you again.”

             
“I don’t have proof,” I say, but she has me thinking about it.  I hate waiting, hate being on the defensive.  I’m a hitter on the court and in real life; I don’t react, I act, and though that’s not always positive, it’s who I am and by waiting for the Kash family to make the moves, I’m allowing them to change who I am.  What if this is really a way I can confront her, a way to make her see that I won’t back down, and I won’t be used? “And even if I did, I don’t know the top defense lawyer in Oregon.”

             
“You will. 
His
daughter is having
your
Dad’s baby.”

             
I’m momentarily stumped.  “Huh.  Is this what they call a silver lining?”

              Katie and I became friends in the second grade.  I have a vivid memory of that first day when I walked in wearing the leggings and skirt my mom and Stacy had forced on me, only there was a hole in one knee and my hair was half out of my ponytail because I’d thrown a shit fit once we’d gotten to school.  Entering class, I sat down and crossed my arms, scowling at the room in general, vowing revenge on Stacy for her love of dressing me up like a Barbie.  When a petite blonde urchin in a pink track suit sat next to me, I turned that scowl on her, aware at even eight that people were intimidated by me, but Katie just sat down and crossed her short legs Indian style under her on the chair, resting her elbows on her knees before she sighed.

“What’s wrong with you?” I asked.

“I hate girls.”

Although I’d often shared the sentiment, I laughed
and rolled my eyes.  “You
are
a girl.”

She just shrugged.  “Yeah, but I’m not a mean girl.  That one over there? She just made fun of me for not having a dad.  I have a dad,” she said with fierce conviction.  “He’s just not here.”

I stared at her for a minute, and then shrugged.  “Mine either.”

She turned her eyes to me and assessed, so still as she looked to see if I was telling the truth before she asked, “Where is he?”

I shrugged.  “Somewhere else.  He comes to visit sometimes.  Where’s yours?”

She shrugged and said “Don’t know.”  Then she smiled.  “What happened to your outfit?”

I scowled.  “I ruined it because I hate it.  My sister made me wear it.”

“Why?”

I shrugged bad temperedly.  “Because she can?”

Katie nodded as if she understood this and then leaned back and stared out at the other kids again.  “Life’s a real bitch.”

That was the day Katie and I cemented our friendship, and over the years the one constant that we’ve always had is each other.  When Katie’s dad went away for the long haul, when Tripp chose Lauren, when Katie’s mom left for an inordinate amount of time, we survived it together.

I think the day I knew our friendship was going to be forever was
the day she sat in bed with me and I told her about Tripp.  I’ve never seen someone so angry.  She was ready to go beat his ass, and not just because she was offended, but because I was hurt.  When I hurt, Katie hurts.  Up until that day, Tripp had been the only person to ever stand up for me, a consequence of being a good five inches taller than anyone else—no one really thinks you need defending.  But that day, Katie was the one to come to my defense, ready to rescue me and make me feel better, even if it meant taking on someone who had an easy fifty pounds and eleven inches on her.  Even in all of my pain, I knew right then and there what it meant to be Katie’s family.  And that’s what we were after that day, family, sisters, people who chose each other when it seemed everyone else in our lives was choosing anyone but us.

             
Over the years of our friendship, we’ve both stood up for the other with equal measure, her getting me through my heartbreak over Tripp and then my teen-pregnancy, me making sure she understood how much she was worth so she would stop settling for the love her father had made her believe she deserved.  Which is why at just before six-thirty in the morning, I’ve convinced Tripp to skip my morning workout and take me to Doug’s house, where I can figure out exactly what he said to Katie and whether or not I need to do my sisterly duty of beating his ass.

             
Tripp is silent as we drive through the mostly quiet streets, transitioning from suburbia to university housing.  When we get to the apartments near Greek Row, we see a few girls starting their walk of shame, last night’s clothes no longer alluring as they pick their way down the sidewalk in micro-minis and stilettos that can only be comfortable under the cushion of alcohol.  As we turn into Doug and Dean’s apartment parking lot, I turn and smile at Tripp.

             
“That could be you next year, standing on the porch of your Frat, letting out last night’s female and amusing yourself while she tries to stay upright and warm all at once.”

             
“Well, when you paint me a picture like that, maybe I should rethink this whole love thing.  You’ll be here in a few years, right?”

             
I rest my hand on the door handle and smile at him.  “What are you going to do next year, Tripp?”

             
His grin fades a little and he turns his body toward me.  “Rachel, I was kidding.  I’m not jonesing to join a frat and run through a gaggle of girls.”

             
I snort.  “Gaggle’s a stupid word, and that’s not what I was talking about.  We’re together, your answer doesn’t change that.”  He studies me for a minute and I roll my eyes.  “This isn’t a girl-game where you say something I don’t like and I get offended even though I pressured you into doing it, so just answer the fucking question.  What do you want next year?”

He laughs and shrugs, looking out the window and then back at me. 
“I don’t know.  I guess my plans have always been to go to school, get my physics or mechanical engineering degree and work at the shop—maybe expand from putting cars back together to building them custom.”  He shrugs.  “Really, I guess my plans are to make a future.  I’m hoping you want to join me.”

             
You know that saying, take my breath away (or song? I can’t remember)? That’s what his answer does, takes my breath away.  The idea that he wants a future, one that he can see clearly but that’s still unwritten enough to be exciting is amazing to me.  And it makes me feel kind of like an asshole.  When I tell him this, he laughs.  “Why?”

             
“Because before Gracie, even after her, my entire goal was to go somewhere on a volleyball scholarship and play for as long as possible.  I’ve never really thought of the future unless it was to mourn what might not be, and here you are making plans and being all adult-like.”  I scowl.  “It’s a little annoying to realize I’m not as mature as I think I am.”

             
He shakes his head and takes my hand.  “How about this? You work on that scholarship, I’ll make the plans.  We’ll both do what we’re good at.”

             
“What about basketball?”

             
“What about it?”

             
“Don’t you want to try and play somewhere? Go DII or III, walk on DI? Are you really ready to be done?”

             
“Rachel, I’m six-three on a good day and a power-forward.  That means nothing in college.  I need to be six-eight.  And it’s not playing that drives me.”

             
“What does?”

             
He grins and points at the apartment building.  “Do you think I’d come intimidate some wannabe biker kid for just anybody? You, Rachel.  The thought of us, the future, where we can go?  That’s what I want.  The rest is just filler.”

             
It’s mortifying to realize he almost has me in tears, so to avoid them I nod and lean over to smack my lips on his.  “Me, too.  But I kinda want volleyball, too, that okay?”

             
He kisses my nose.  “Most definitely.  Now let’s put a move on or we’ll lose the element of surprise and that’s half the fun.”

             
“God I love you.”  I hop out of my side and head up the stairs to the second floor, walking past doors until I find 2C.  I ring the bell a couple of times before pounding on the door with the side of my hand.  A few minutes pass before we hear a thud, a curse, and then a very skinny Doug answers the door in his SpongeBob boxers and nothing else.  I wince and avert my eyes.  I definitely could have died a satisfied woman without ever seeing this man nearly naked.  Christ, lift a weight every now and then, drink a protein shake, get some sunshine. 

             
“Good morning, Doug.  Mind if we come in?” I’m already pushing through, an amused Tripp following me as Doug stands at the door.  It’s clear his instincts are telling him that
flight
is a choice he should make right now, but after a ten second debate, he turns and slams the door. 

             
“Flow? What the fuck? Why are you here?” 

             
Ohh, Dougie’s chosen to fight, bravo.  Points for bravery. 

I lift my eyebrows and give him my best
we both know I can crush you like a bug
look before crossing my arms all casual-like.  “Just wanted to have a chat, buddy, see how you are, what you’ve been doing.  Oh, and what your intentions are with my best friend, cause I have to say, right now it looks like you slept with her and walked when things got real, and that pisses me off.”

             
Behind me, I think I hear Tripp suck in a breath and I turn and wink at him.  “I forgave you, baby, remember? Right after I decked you.” I smile and turn back to Doug who now looks like he might be sick, his arms crossed over his stomach in a protective gesture and for a minute I feel a little bad for him.  He was born with man parts and no manly instinct.  Poor bastard.

             
Before I feel too sorry for him, I remember Katie sobbing in my arms yesterday, her hot tears as they soaked through my practice shirt and burned my skin and I straighten up, taking a step toward Doug.  Sissy or not, he
will
pay for those tears, one by one. 

             
“Doug, what the fu—Rae?”

             
Dean’s voice halts my forward progress, and I see relief blow visibly across Doug’s face.  “Jesus, are you guys ganging up on him? Really fair.”

             
“Relax, dude, she’s just talking to him.”

             
“Don’t tell me to relax,
dude
.”

             
Because I know that Tripp won’t take being spoken to like that anymore than Dean will let me pound his cousin into the ground, I turn and step between them.  “Relax, ladies, I was just about to ask Dougie here some questions.”

             
Dean and Tripp glare at each other for a second more and I roll my eyes before giving Tripp a shove.  He glances down and glares at me but when I just glare right back, he gives in and relaxes his stance.  Dean follows suit and looks toward Doug, giving a small laugh and shake of his head. 

             
“Doug, go put some clothes on.”

             
Yeah, as much as I’d like that to happen, the look on Doug’s face tells me that if he gets out of my sight, he’s never coming back.  “I need a second with him first, Dean.”

             
He looks at me and then shakes his head again.  “Fine, just don’t touch him.”

             
“No promises.”

             
He sighs and scrubs his hands over his face.  “Jesus Christ,
fine
, but remember he’s a virgin fighter, don’t go at him too hard.”  Then he turns to Tripp.  “Do you want some coffee?”

             
Tripp looks at me.  “You good?”

             
“Cleaned your clock a couple of weeks ago, didn’t I?”

             
He smiles and nods before following Dean into the kitchen area.  Over his shoulder, Dean yells “Doug, keep your hands up!” and then disappears, so Doug and I are somewhat alone.

             
“I didn’t sleep with Katie.”  He spits the words at me and I stop, cocking my head to the side.  “We messed around, sure, and I wanted to, but I didn’t.  And I didn’t leave her, she left me after I said we should be careful, slow down, make sure we both want the other person.”

             
“Why did you string her along and make her think once she turned eighteen you wanted to be with her if you weren’t sure?”

             
I step forward, irritated that he would blame her and he puts up his hands and steps back.  “Not me,
her
.  I needed
her
to be sure.  Jesus, Flow, look at her and then look at me.  I’d be lucky to have her forever, don’t you think I know that?”

             
“Do you?” I ask, my voice raised.

             
“Shit, of course I do.  I just don’t think she wants me forever.”

             
I stop and stare at Doug, processing all of this.  “Why?” I finally ask.

             
He shrugs.  “I don’t know—she’s just so great and has all this stuff she wants to do and be and have, and every time we were together I just felt like she was talking to me about it, not sharing so I could be a part of it.  When she asked if I wanted to move in with her, it wasn’t an exciting thing, it was more like a lifeline, like I was the only thing left she had to grab onto.  Even if I said yes—and I wanted to—I knew it wouldn’t last.”

             
Goddamn Doug.  Like I’m going to punch him
now
.  How do you argue with someone who did the right thing? Not even I’m that heartless.  Blowing out a breath, I slump in defeat.  “Well, fuck, Doug.  I came here ready to blacken both your eyes and I now have to say thanks, instead.”  I look up at him, trying a smile and to avoid even the briefest glance at his still mostly naked body.  “Thanks for saying no, and for loving Katie even if she can’t give you what you want.”