Hell Bent (14 page)

I
am lying here
, looking at my wife. Her honey-brown eyes are closed as she is still asleep. Her cheeks are flushed, and there is a luscious look to her skin. I wonder if this is perhaps what pregnancy does to a woman. Whatever it is, happiness or the baby, I’m liking it.

I know she was pleased to see her father yesterday, and I am glad I found him and made it happen. She needs to resolve old issues, needs her family, in whatever sense that may be. She needs to be made whole again.

I want to touch her, to suck upon her, to take her inside my skin and keep her there forever. She is my cream-puff, my Susie, my wife. I am so very proud at this moment of what life has brought to me. I cannot resist but place my hand gently upon her bare tummy, wishing I am able to feel the life beating within.

She awakens at my touch, and I cannot help but make love to her again, this time more gently and for hours. I cannot get enough of her. Eventually, she falls asleep against me again, my cock still within her. This is as it should always be.

I close my eyes.

S
usie’s nursing
talents display themselves over our honeymoon week. She cooks for me, cleans for me, massages my back, and washes me in the giant tub bubbling in our bathroom. She is everything I could have imagined, and more. We watch old movies until our eyes grow heavy and she dozes off. Pregnancy seems to make her sleepy, or perhaps it’s contentment. Somehow, I like thinking it is the latter.

We play board games and go for long walks. The cold deposits color on her cheeks and makes her honey brown eyes sparkle. On the last day of our honeymoon, we awaken to find a thick layer of almost frozen dew over the garden and grounds. I lift her in my arms and take her outside, pushing the cold droplets down her panties. She screams and tries to wriggle loose, only forcing me to hold her tighter. I leap up the stairs and lower her into the waiting hot bath and climb in with her.

“I’m gonna do this to you when it snows too,” I tell her.

“Fine, I’ll do it to you!” she teases and I hold her close to me.

We sit in the bubbles and explore one another’s bodies as though it is the first time. I can already feel her beginning to change—her breasts seem a bit fuller, and she is more sensitive when I enter her.

I finally let her drive her new convertible, and she climbs into it as though it’s a museum piece. She doesn’t want to start the engine until she touches and strokes every inch of the interior. I laugh aloud when she asks whether we might have plastic seat covers made to protect the white leather. Once she has it on the road, kids on foot are passing us, and I urge her to let it run out a little.

“This is a sports car, cream-puff,” I tell her. “It
wants
to go fast!”

Eventually, the old Susie surfaces, and soon we are screaming down country roads, sliding through hairpin turns, and I am amazed at her driving skills. She has excellent instincts and a feather-light touch with the wheel and brakes. I comment lightly that I may find her hanging at the race track from now on, and she laughs with wild abandon.

I don’t want our time together to end, but eventually, the day comes when I hear the back door open and Mrs. Hansen calls out, “We’re home,” out of polite regard for our privacy. We lock our door and carry on. I love my wife more than I could have possibly imagined.

I think of Cam and what lies ahead for him, and I’m angered at the fates. Cam is a good guy and deserves to be happy, as does Milly. I look at my girl, my wife, and know that I will kill to protect her. I am certain Cam feels the same way.

M
y wedding
and honeymoon in the past, I am most likely the happiest gal alive. I cannot think of anything that could make things more perfect—until, of course, the arrival of our baby.

I am scheduled with the obstetrician in a week, and I wonder if they’ll already do an ultrasound. Bryce and I discuss whether we want to know the sex of the baby in advance, and decide we do. Neither of us is the sort who likes mystery in our future.

I choose a room next to ours that will be the nursery and begin visiting baby stores with Milly to look at options for furnishing. There are deliciously cozy rooms of shabby chic, traditional pinks and blues, neutral yellows and greens, and eventually, I settle upon a bright set in primary colors that exhilarates the eye and the brain. I want our baby to grow up in a world filled with excitement and creative fuel. I want our baby to have exactly the opposite of the childhood I remember. Milly chooses baby blue tones since she knows she’s having a boy.

Since the primary colors theme is gender neutral, I begin collecting pieces immediately. I select red lacquered furniture and bedding that mixes greens, reds, blues, yellows, whites, oranges, and purples in a selection of Mother Goose characters. I am choosing on instinct—items that I would have wanted in my room as a child. The curtains match the bedding, and I add a variety of toys and even a mommy bed so I can be nearby when the situation calls for it. Changing table, dressers, and the most adorable rocker with arms carved like the goose’s long neck as it’s flying, are added into the mix. Milly thinks I’m going overboard, but I can’t stop.

I find a selection of stuffed animals in Mother Goose characters and order a dozen. I am in seventh heaven. I have never had such a generous budget, and my thrifty side is screaming in denial…but I love it! I hope Bryce likes everything I am picking out, but he tells me this is my house and I may have whatever I like, so I am taking him at his word.

While I am out shopping, I decide to design a room that will be just for the two of us—me and Bryce. There is a very large, unused bedroom on the main floor, overlooking the pool area. I decide to wallpaper it with acoustic fabric and to line one wall with pink Himalayan rock salt bricks. These are supposed to recharge the ions in the room and make the air pure—the same feeling one has after a thunderstorm.

I find a high-end music system store and sit in their especially designed speaker room listening to a variety of sound systems. I end up buying the most expensive one they offer and realize that I tend to buy by the price tag rather than knowledge when the price is no object. I purchase leather seating that can be arranged in different configurations, huge green plants, and thick rugs. I arrange for a light-controllable wall of waterfall to be installed on the panel opposite the pool view. This will be our private room where we can meditate, talk about things, and simply relax from the world outside.

Jesus
, but having money is fun!

M
y cell is ringing
, and I see it’s Milly.

“Susie, will you go with me?”

“I could give you a better answer if I knew where it is you want to go,” I say saucily, even though the tumult in my stomach is making me less than cheerful.

“To the doctor. Cam scheduled an appointment for me with my new oncologist, but he can’t make it on that day and I don’t want to delay it any longer. It was hard to get that appointment as it is. I am just terrified over the whole thing.”

“Of course, Milly, where and what time?”

“Two o’clock at the Cancer Center. I’ll meet you in the lobby?”

“See you there. Hey Milly…don’t worry, kiddo. Whatever it is, we will handle it—you and I, just as we always do, okay?”

“Thank you, Susie. You are always there for me.”

I pause a moment and say softly, “It’s just what we do.”

I set the phone down and make a run for the bathroom. This is not the part of being pregnant that appeals to me. Back on the bed, eventually things calm down, and Mrs. Hansen, in her usual knowing way, comes in with a tray bearing ginger ale and a plate of saltine crackers. I nod to her in thanks and she withdraws, pulling the shades down on the windows on her way out. What would I do without her?

Bryce is at work, so once my tummy has regained its composure, I shower and dress for the day. I can tell my waistband is a bit snug, and it is with some pride that I pooch it out and stand sideways to the mirror, imagining what I will look like in a few months.

I am heading out the door to meet Milly, but first, I have a stop to make. I climb into my little red car and set off for the main road, pulling into a parking lot shortly thereafter.

The building has two stories and is well manicured. There is a clubhouse with an outdoor pool that is now closed for the winter, but I can see a large glass enclosure at the back of the building that, I surmise, is an indoor pool and probably a gymnasium. I check the notes on my phone Bryce left for me and find the building without problem.

“Suzanna,” Dad breathes as he opens the door.

“Hi, Dad,” I hug him and walk past him as he steps back to let me in. Although this is not the first time I have seen him since the wedding, this is the time that has to happen eventually. “I’ve come to talk,” I say, and he nods.

We sit in the spacious living room with windows overlooking a forested area at the edge of the complex. I look out and see late-season geese flying overhead and think of the baby’s room.

“I have bought everything for the nursery already,” I comment as he brings me a cup of tea.

He nods. “You’re excited, aren’t you?”

“Sort of…well, yes, but there are things still in my head that I need to get past, Dad.”

“I understand, honey. I know I have apologies to make—maybe more than I’m even aware of, considering…” His voice trails off as he contemplates about the days he probably doesn’t remember well.

“It’s okay, Dad…sometimes we aren’t always able to see our way. Lord knows, I have found myself there a time or two.” I want to make him feel better and then in another way, I want him to hurt, just a little, like I have been all these years.

“Suzanna, I know it sounds cowardly, and like I’m making excuses, but there are things you don’t know. Things that were never talked about. And while they may sting a bit, they need to be said. You are a grown woman, and you need to know everything—good and bad,” he says, twirling his wedding band around the tip of his finger.

I sense that there is something deep bothering him inside. It is only fair to hear him out and, after all, I’m his Suzanna…I can take it.

“Go ahead, Dad. Tell me.”

He looks at me, making sure there is no fear on my face. I smile to reassure him, and he goes on.

“Suzanna, I had an older brother you never knew. He was two years older than me, and well, sort of a wild guy. His name was Dave.” He stops at this point and looks to see how I am taking this news. He sees my eyebrows are raised, and while I’m trying to be very adult, there is a bit of hurt in my eyes that no one ever told me.

“Go on…” I urge.

“Well…and this may be the rough part…Dave and your mother were “an item” as we called it in those days. They dated their last year of high school and into the summer.”

He stops here, giving out the information in little batches so I can absorb it easier, I’m sure.

He continues. “Dave, like I say, well…he was a wild one. Always getting into trouble, and I think your mother sort of liked bad boys because she never turned her back on him. No matter what he did, he was okay in her book. She had his back. In fact, you remind me of her in that way, Suzanna. You are so like your mother was when she was young.”

Tears are forming in my eyes as I’m listening. I loved her dearly, and to hear Dad say this makes my heart very warm. I want to be like her…I want to be the kind of mother she was to me. Gentle, accepting, forgiving, supportive…do I have all those qualities in me?

Dad is speaking again. “One night, he was down at the local hangout—a sort of what we called honky tonk or dirt floor bar. Not a very nice place, and rough sort of people hung out there. Dave and another guy were shooting pool—he loved the game and was damned good at it. But this night, he had been drinking for a long time and wasn’t too friendly or too coordinated. I guess he went to take a shot, slipped, and fell on the felt, knocking some balls around. There was a hundred dollar bet on the game, and the other guy wouldn’t accept the layout of the balls Dave re-positioned. They got into an argument, and the other guy had buddies there…and well, things got out of hand, and one of the other guys pulled a knife and stabbed Dave in the stomach.”

I draw in my breath…the scene he describes makes me dizzy, knowing that the man who was attacked was my own flesh and blood…

“They took Dave to the hospital and someone had the sense to call your mother. I picked her up and we drove down together. Dave was fading fast, and your mother was crying, lying over his legs, trying to hold him back from leaving us. Dave managed to grab my wrist with what little strength he had left. ‘Take care of her,’ was all he got out, and then he died.”

I am crying outright now…at the idea of my mother hurting so terribly, at my dad’s loss of his brother and the assignment of responsibility.

“We buried Dave, and it was about three weeks later that your mother came to me and told me she was pregnant. Dave knew, and that’s why he asked me to look out for her.”

I look up in shock. This isn’t my father? My father is lying in a cemetery somewhere?

“No, it’s not what you’re thinking, Susie,” Dad says. “I married your mother, just as Dave would have wished, but about a week later, she miscarried. It was a little boy. The doctor said the strain of what she’d been through was too much, and the baby just went to sleep.”

I clutch my throat. This is an awful lot to process, and my hand goes protectively over my own tummy as I listen, tears streaming down my face. Dad slides over and puts his arm around me.

“Listen to me, Suzanna. I loved your mother, I truly did. I’d always been a bit jealous of Dave when they were going together, but she was his, and that was that. When he asked me to look after her, it was like a dream come true. The thing is, though, your mother changed then. She wasn’t the same person. She was sort of…lost.

“A few months later, she found out she was pregnant with you. She was surprised…” He clears his throat at this. “Let’s just say we hadn’t been too cozy.” I get his drift. “Anyway, instead of our becoming closer, she began to pull away from me. I don’t know what was in her head—maybe she thought she didn’t want a baby with me, or maybe she thought she needed to protect you…I don’t know. But the harder I tried, the colder she became. Oh, she was a good wife otherwise…she cooked, cleaned, got that job at the grocery store…but you were all she could think of. It was like she didn’t even see me.”

I am still crying at the images in my head, but now I begin to feel an emotion that is a new experience—sympathy for my dad.

He continues, “Well…and I don’t say this as an excuse, but more of an explanation for why…I started stopping off at the bar on the way home from work. I was tired, and it hurt me that she ignored me. So, I’d stop by and shoot the breeze with some buddies, have a drink or two and then come home. You were born, and if anything, your mother grew even further away, taking your crib into the bedroom and telling me to sleep in the little room that eventually became yours.”

Images of my dad, drunk and curled up on my bed, come back to me in full force—so strongly that I have to grip the arm of the sofa to steady myself. My stomach isn’t happy, and I take a sip of the tea, hoping to calm it.

“A drink or two became three or four, and then a bottle. Well, honey, you’re a nurse, I don’t need to tell you how it works. When I could find my way home, I would go back to that little bedroom and go to sleep. I don’t remember when it became your room…to me, it was always mine, and where I was supposed to sleep.

“Your mom never said anything until after you moved out. She became angry then…I think at the whole world. She knew she had the cancer, and she felt cheated—that she didn’t have Dave, that I was a miserable substitution, and that by that time, you were off and in your own life. She had wanted so much more…not from you, honey, but from life. She threw me out, and I was drunk so much of the time, I didn’t know the difference. I just stopped ever coming home. Lived on the street for a while, and then in a shelter. Anyway, Suzanna, I never left you, honey. I left Dave’s world, that’s all. Dave’s world and Dave’s life.”

With this, he is silent but I am lying over his lap, crying for all I’m worth. “I’m so sorry, Dad. I had no idea.”

“No, no,” he says, patting my shoulder. “Of course you didn’t. How could you? You didn’t know the story, and no one would tell you. You drew your own story from what you saw, and I don’t blame you one bit for hating me.”

“I never hated you, Dad…I was…I was…maybe disappointed. But in many ways, you made me strong. I had to look after myself, and after Mom…so you made me who I am today, although maybe not in the way you might have realized. I love you, Dad.”

A huge dam breaks loose now. All the resentment, all the anger, all the rejection, flow away in the debris that is my past. Suddenly, the light of the sun breaks through, and I can see my dad for the man he was, or could have been. Now, I am free to love him. I no longer have to pretend I hate him because it’s the only thing that makes sense for how I grew up.

I sit there, hugging his arm for a long time, and we talk...about the good times. This makes me feel so much better, and finally, I glance at my phone and see that I will be late to meet Milly if I don’t leave now.

“I love you, Dad,” I say again as he walks me to the door. “I have to meet Milly at her doctor’s, or I would stay longer. Will you have dinner with us Saturday night?”

He nods and gives me a kiss on my cheek, and I return one to his. It is so papery and frail and my heart breaks for all the time we’ve missed. I nod and wave goodbye as I head for the car.

God bless Bryce,
is all I can think.