Having Nathan's Baby (10 page)

“Claire, come on…” He crossed to me and sat at the other side of the table. I felt a brief, stinging connection between us, as though he wanted to touch me
but didn’t dare. “Nothing’s going to happen. The doctor said you’re in great shape; good weight range; no signs of high-blood pressure.”

I looked at him again in surprise. It seemed significant that he’d know the symptoms of pre-eclampsia. The notion that he might have been reading up on this pregnancy like I was curdled the existing resentment in my head. I felt less overwhelmed for a moment.

“I want to tell people,” he said, and his expression was taut. “I want to celebrate it! I at least want my family to know.” He frowned. “You want to tell your sister, right? I mean, you tell her everything.”

I
looked down at my stomach. My eyes strayed to the picnic bench and then out to the frozen park scene. People were running around, going about their business as normal. In the meantime, a new human being had just been identified in my womb; a boy ... I could scarcely believe it. I couldn’t process it for a moment.

Numb,
I rummaged in my bag and brought out a now crumpled piece of paper. “I wrote a list,” I said. I held it out towards him.

He took it from
me, his expression waking up. “Of names?”

“No.
Other things we need to take care of.” I paused. “Though we do need to decide what name to put on the birth certificate.”

He stilled. His features flinched marginally. After a moment, he came to his feet and paced away from
me. He stood for a long time staring out at the activity in the square below us, while I sat in a kind of confused stupor. What was wrong with him now? Was he mad? Sad? Was he just savoring the moment, knowing he was having a son?

A smile lifted
my mouth suddenly. It was like a touch of warmth cracking hard ice. A little boy ... I saw a dark-haired child with my serious blue eyes and Nathan’s indomitable optimism. Good God, we were having a boy!

“What the hell are you thinking, coming at me with something like that?”

His harsh words broke
me out of the reverie like I’d received a slap. I stared at his black expression in surprise. I hadn’t even seen him turn around.

He brandi
shed the piece of paper in front on me. “What else is on this list?” he asked. “Child support? Visitation rights?”

Off-guard and smarting from his attack,
I just stared at first, shocked by the sight of his anger.

He threw the paper down on the table. “And what do I get? One summer every two years? One weekend a month?” Disgust, an emotion
I’d never seen before in him, and certainly not directed at me, made his features hard and frightening. “How dare you come at me with this after all these years?”

It was like he had spat at
me. A tremble started low in my stomach. “Nathan, come at you with what-?”

“Do you really believe I’ll waive any of my rights to this child?”

I felt my brain start to wake up from the shock, start to fight back. “Wait a minute-”

“No, you wait!” His voice almost snarled. He leaned his arms on the table. His glare forced
me back in my seat. “I should have known. You’re a goddamn lawyer-”

“But I haven’t even-”

“If you think you can measure out my place in this child’s life, you’re wrong.” His voice was like stone grating against the jagged surface of my nerves. “I’m not even going to look at that-” He swore savagely. “-that pathetic list on a crummy piece of paper. Did you think I wouldn’t notice? Did you think you could shove it under my nose, disguise it as some kind of shopping list and get your way?”

My
heart was beating so fast I thought it might jump out of my chest altogether. His face was close, close enough that I could smell the heated scent of his skin. The safe, familiar scent was twisted, unrecognizable in the wake if his anger. I’d never have believed him capable of this type of rage before. He looked like he wanted to hit me. I clasped on to the table for support; my hand was shaking. I realized my whole body was shaking from the sheer shock.

“
There’s nothing on it,” I managed, trying to force some answering anger in my voice.

He snatched the piece of paper up again. “We’ll see about that. I’ll give it directly to my lawyers.”

“Your lawyers?” I felt my stomach lurch.

His laugh was stinging in the
icy air. “I don’t know how you have the gall to look so injured," he said, shaking his head. “You started this!”

I
was genuinely galled. “You haven’t even looked at it-”

“I don’t need to look at it!
” he cried. “I don’t care what’s on the goddamn list. If you can even question whether or not this child takes my name, then you’re further gone than I thought!”

Further
gone ... gone where? I watched him stalk back over towards the square, his back rigid. What was he talking about? Why was he reacting like this, when I hadn’t even suggested not including his name on the birth certificate?

I
stood up on tired legs. “Nathan-”

“I’ll get you a cab.”

“I don’t need a cab!” Approaching him, I stalled when he turned on me, his face a mask of hostility. I had to search his features just to remember who he was. “I didn’t suggest we leave your name off the birth certificate. I -” I swallowed, feeling nauseous again. “I only wanted to suggest we could add mine, too. Since we’re not married.”

“What do you mean: since we’re not married?” His words rapped against
me abrasively.

“I have rights, too!”
I felt some of my normal tenacity return. “You can’t just steamroller me like this, laying down the law and threatening me...” The tenacity didn’t last. The recent emotion started wearing on me again; it was like the aftermath of adrenaline pumping through my system. The nausea was joined by a distinct feeling of dizziness, but I frowned through it. “I can’t believe you just threatened me with lawyers! Of all the-”

“You just threatened to take my name from the birth certificate!”
he countered hotly.

“I just explained what I meant by that! You – you’re jumping to conclusions, and you have no right to barge around like that, threatening me! I’ve never given you any reason…”
My voice trailed off.

“Are you all right?”

I swallowed. Was I?

“You look really pale,
” he said ominously.

My
head spun. “I think I need to sit down.”

He was at
my side in a second. One arm around my waist at the back and the other at the front, he sat me quickly and efficiently on the bench again. I leaned my head forward, feeling partly foolish and partly scared. My head was really spinning now. “It’s my blood sugar,” I managed, trying to dampen my anxiety.

He rummaged in his pocket, coming out with a candy bar. “I got this in the vending machine. I thought you might want it after the chips.
Here-” He ripped it open, breaking a piece off. “-eat it. It’ll make you feel better.”

I
took the piece of dark chocolate and popped it into my mouth. At first the nausea was worse, but as the chocolate melted and started to fill my stomach, I felt a slow return to balance inside my head. I breathed slowly. I realized I was gripping on to his arm. I loosened my hold gradually as sense returned. His arms made no move to unclasp my waist, and I didn’t complain. I just let the chocolate settle and kept my eyes closed, glad for the momentary lull in the storm. I wasn’t sure how long we sat like this.

“Do you feel better?”
When he spoke eventually, I heard the thread of real anxiety in his low voice. I became aware of the welcome warmth of his body next to mine in the chill.

Cracking one eye open,
I nodded.

He exhaled.

“It’s my blood sugar.” I said again, swallowing. “I usually carry an orange juice around with me. It helps if I drink something sweet until I can find food.”

“Do you need a doctor?”
he asked.

“No. I’ll be fine.”

He exhaled, looked almost angry again. “You never told me about this,” he said, his tone accusing. “You need to eat.”

My
stomach grumbled in agreement and I felt the baby kick. My son, kicking my stomach for food. Without thinking, I covered the spot where I’d felt the sensation, crooning. “I know, I know…” I said, “… we’ll get something to eat in a minute. You’re like a starving horse.”

When
I looked up, Nathan was open-mouthed with silence. He was staring at my stomach with a kind of wonder on his face. A smile touched his mouth. “Was that him? Was he kicking?”

I
sighed. “Not only does he want to eat every thirty minutes,” I said, “but he’s got your temperamental left leg. He can’t keep still.”

“He does?” Nathan looked at
my tired expression for a moment and then back at my bump, laughing to himself. “Can I?” His hand went to my stomach before I could respond.

Our
son kicked animatedly.

“Whoa!” As though he’d been burned, Nathan’s hand shot back. “My God, how can you stand that? Doesn’t it hurt?”

“A little. He keeps me awake at night, which is worse,” I said.

Nathan’s hand palmed
my belly again. I experienced a sort of out of body sensation, far different from the dizziness earlier, as though I had split in two; on one hand, I was watching the father of my child make a first attempt at communication with his son, and on the other, I was being touched for the first time in a very long time by the only man I’d ever really loved. The woman and the mother splintered away from each other until I couldn’t contain them both.

I
touched his hand and moved it away. “I need to eat, Nathan,” I said, feeling exhausted.

He glanced at
my face, searching my features. It was as though he didn’t recognize me for a moment. “Sure,” he said. A shutter closed over his eyes. “Come on. We’ll go to my place.” Coming off his haunches and straightening, regret lowered his tone. “We need to talk. We can’t have a scene like this every time we see each other.”

Halleluiah … t
hat, I could agree with. However, right at that second I would have agreed with anything to get out of this freezing park and get some food.

“You can have whatever you want.”

His response some two hours later as
we poured over the crumpled list was as casual as it was preposterous. Full and warm, I sat across from him on the sofa, my legs tucked up under myself. I’d called in to work in the end, cancelling my appointments, too tired to even think about making it to the office. Instead I was using the last of the day’s energy to barter with Nathan. I let my eyes wander across his dark features. I saw the same roguish charm that had dazzled me for half of my life, and yet he seemed so different in the dim light of this late winter afternoon. I’d seen how far he would go to protect his relationship with his son, how vicious he could be, even turning on me if threatened. I still felt shaken by the realization, and my gaze desperately tried to reconcile the two men in my eyes; the lover and the father.

Was any of this real? How could he have been so distant recently if it was?

I shook my head at him and focused on the present. “I don’t need a new apartment, Nathan.” I brushed my hair back, tired of trying to understand him.

“You said yourself you have no
where for the crib,” he said.

“Not right
now, “I countered, “but I’ll move a piece of furniture. I don’t need you to buy me a whole house to make room for a crib.”

He shook his head but looked down at the list again, on to the next item.
I was starting to wish I’d never written the damn thing. He was throwing large amounts of money at every single detail to make it go away, his usual tactic. I let my eyes wander around our surroundings; we were in the front room of the brownstone, and I had to admit that the decorator had done a decent job. The place had really only been spruced up; it was a blank canvas in whites and creams, ready for someone to make it personal, make it a home. Nathan had purchased a minimal amount of furniture it was an assortment of wood and leather, all very classic and clean. I liked it, even if it still felt a little cold and unloved.

I
wondered for a moment if I looked like this house from the outside with my neat dress and even expression. For a moment I felt like it. I spruced myself up with normalcy every morning, but inside I felt as bare as this empty family room.

“I don’t see why you can’t at least just stay
here for the first few weeks after the baby’s born.” He frowned and changed tack. “You know, we need to think of names. I’m tired of calling him ‘the baby’ or ‘it’-”

“We finally have a pronoun, Nathan!
” I said with a curt laugh. “Let’s just get used to using ‘him’ and ‘he’ for a while-”

“You’re not thinking about one of those old-fashioned New York names everyone’s using now, I hope. Like Terrence or Arthur-”