Perfectly Unpredictable (7 page)

“Kalia, you look worn out,” Krista said.
They were sitting together on the sofa enjoying a cup of tea while Mani napped.
She brushed a thumb across Kalia’s cheek. “Those dark circles have become a
permanent fixture.”

“Really?” Kalia asked. Now that Mani was
two months old, it felt like he had developed a routine. He napped twice a day
regularly, and she had learned to take some time for herself in the morning and
to nap with him in the afternoon. He was still up twice a night to breastfeed,
and getting up for the nighttime feeds was brutal, but he was a good baby and
generally fed and went back to sleep.

Unfortunately, in the last two weeks he had
become colicky and cried . . . no, it wasn’t really crying. Screaming like a
banshee would be a better description, she thought with a wince. It only lasted
for two hours, but it was a very, very long two hours. She felt a bit frantic
about it, but at Mani’s check-up, Dr. MacMillan had assured her that Mani was
the picture of health, and his weight gain was right on track. It’s a phase,
she was told. Just ride it out. So, riding it out they were. But it was a rocky
road.

“I think it would be good for you to get
away for a bit. You know, you and I could go to one of those bed and breakfast
places in Emerson. It’s under an hour away, and I’m sure your mom would take
Mani for a weekend. You could just relax and sleep – get a full
night’s sleep for a change. We could go out for dinner and spend some time
together,” Krista said.

Kalia looked over. “I don’t think I could
leave Mani. And I’m breastfeeding.”

“Pump. Lots of mothers do it. You could
leave bottles of breast milk with your mom.”

“I don’t know, Krista.” She sipped her tea.
“I wouldn’t want to mess up his schedule. The breastfeeding is going well, and it
seems too early to introduce a bottle. I read somewhere that babies have
trouble going from bottle to breast if they’re too young. And as much as it’s an
inconvenience to be tethered for feedings, it’s so much easier than worrying
about sterilizing bottles.”

“I’ve heard that’s a myth. That babies are
smart enough to suck on a real nipple or a fake nipple, and you can interchange
both.”

“Maybe. And Mani is a smart little guy.”
Kalia smiled. “But I don’t want to leave him. I don’t think I could relax. I’d worry
about him.”

“What about us, Kalia?” Krista asked
quietly. “Don’t we deserve some time alone together?”

“Us?”

“Yes. Us.” Krista set her cup of tea on the
nearby table. “I love you, Kalia. And I want to spend some time alone with
you.”

“I love you too, Krista. You’re my best
friend. I don’t think I could ever thank you enough for being here with me
these last two months,” Kalia said solemnly. “I don’t know how I would’ve
gotten through it without you to lean on. You’re like the sister I never had.”

“Sister,” Krista repeated. She glanced away
and then looked Kalia in the eye. “The feelings I have for you are stronger
than that.” She brushed a wisp of hair from Kalia’s face. “I love you, Kalia.”

Krista took Kalia’s cup and set it on the
table. Then she leaned in. Running her hand along Kalia’s jaw, she pressed her
lips softly to Kalia’s. She paused, then swept her tongue along Kalia’s top lip,
pressing closer.

Kalia pulled back and put her hand on
Krista’s chest. “Stop. Wait.” She shook her head. “What? What?” she cried, each
one slightly more panicked than the last.

“Sh-sh. It’s okay,” Krista said quickly,
letting go and sitting back with a jerk. She sighed.

“Krista, look, I’m sorry–”

“No. Don’t say anything. I’m sorry,” Krista
interrupted. “Just forget I said anything.”

Kalia hung her head. She couldn’t. And they
shouldn’t. “Krista, we need to talk about this.”

Krista put her hand up and shook her head.
Tears gathered in her eyes.

“Don’t, please don’t cry,” Kalia said,
trying desperately to hold it together. “I’m so sorry,” she said, thinking
back, trying to imagine if she had led Krista on. “I don’t . . . I’m not . . .”
God, how do you say it? “Krista, I love you like a sister, but not . . . um . .
. not like that,” she finished lamely.

“Like what?” Krista asked bitterly.

“Not like a lover. Krista, I’m not gay,”
Kalia said.

“I am.”

Kalia sat back, shocked. “Krista, I’m sorry.
I didn’t see it. I didn’t realize that this was what you wanted.” Had she been
living under a rock? How could she have missed this? “You’re gay?” she asked. “Since
when?”

“Since forever.”

“Sorry, that was probably rude. But, in
high school? You dated guys then,” Kalia pointed out.

“I dated them, but it never felt right. I
guess I finally acted on it in university, and I’ve been with women since then.”

“Really?”

Krista winced. “Really.”

Her heart ached. She hadn’t seen it. She
hadn’t guessed. “How did you know?” she asked slowly.

Krista looked thoughtful. “I guess it just
felt right. When the guys held me or touched me, I felt like cringing and
backing away. But when it was a woman . . . it was different. I wanted more,
and I wanted to hold them, touch them, spend time with them. I don’t know.” She
shrugged. “It’s hard to explain. I just knew.”

“I never really considered whether I prefer
men or women. Just assumed, well . . . men.”

Krista looked over and smiled. “Making love
with another woman is special. We know what feels good. Having the same parts
and all.” She looked at Kalia speculatively. “Want to try again?”

Krista slid her hand around to Kalia’s back
and slowly stroked. Her other hand slipped under Kalia’s top and mirrored the movement
on the front. She pushed Kalia’s bra aside and touched her bare breast, tracing
circles around her nipple. She leaned in and brushed her lips to Kalia’s,
nipping and gently tugging as she stroked her skin.

Kalia slowly leaned back and pulled away. “Mmm,
you’re good Krista. It felt good, but . . .”

“But . . .” Krista echoed.

“But, yeah, um, I’m not gay. Yeah, sorry,
but no.”

“I’m sorry too, Kalia. I really wanted to be
a family with you and Mani.” She leaned back and closed her eyes. “But I want
someone to love me back. You know, really love me.”

“I’m not it, Krista.”

Krista opened her eyes and shook her head
slowly. “No. No, you’re not it. And you know what else?”

“No. What?”

“I’ve realized I don’t really like kids. They
are a royal pain in the ass. They don’t sleep. All they do is eat and poop. And
they stink.” She shook her head. “And diaper changing? Gross beyond words. They
tie you down and rule over you. I don’t think I’ll be a parent any time soon.”

Kalia laughed. “Okay. Good to know. I love
the whole thing – the fact that this little human being needs me,
and I can give him what he needs. I may not always be the best at it, but I
love trying. I love having Mani.”

“It was the right decision for you. And I’m
glad I was around to help, but I think it’s time I stepped out. Will you be all
right?”

“Yeah. I’ll be fine. I’ll have to be.” She
smiled sadly. “But I don’t want you out of my life completely. You’ll be nearby,
won’t you?”

“Of course. Regular infrequent visits.” She
squeezed Kalia’s hand. “I’ll miss you, Kalia. I’ll always love you.”

“I love you too, Krista,” Kalia said,
giving Krista a hug.

“I’ll get my things together.”

Kalia nodded as tears threatened. It wasn’t
fair to Krista to make this any harder. But . . . another loss. Another person
she loved, leaving.

She couldn’t pretend to be something she
wasn’t. And it wasn’t fair to Krista. As hard as it was, she had to let her go.
It was a little bit frightening to think about coping on her own, but, sink or
swim, she needed to start. It had been a godsend to have Krista all this time. For
the comfort, the confidence building, and the day-to-day stuff. How did single
moms cope with all that?

She sighed.

She was about to find out.

Four hours later, Kalia seriously reconsidered
Krista’s proposition. She rocked Mani as his little body contorted with another
cramp, legs pumping, fists clenched, and tears running down his tiny face. Kalia
tried changing his diaper, offered a breast, patted his back, rubbed his belly,
walked, rocked, sang, and paced. He was inconsolable.

He’s healthy. It’s just colic. It’s just a
phase, she reassured herself as she held him.

Are you sure? a little voice screamed in
her head as Mani wailed and wailed again. He’s in pain. He’s seriously ill. I’m
a terrible mother, she fretted. With Krista, they had taken turns and passed
Mani off. Fifteen minutes with the screaming and fifteen minutes away.
Oh Krista, please come back. I can’t do this.

Okay,
I need to focus on something
peaceful.
She straightened her spine. She looked outside the back door and
watched as the setting sun caught a neighbor’s glass sun catcher. She cradled
Mani and walked out onto the porch. She took deep, easy breaths and focused on
trying to relax.
Think happy thoughts. Think
happy thoughts.
Mani hiccupped as his cries subsided briefly, and then the
wailing started again.

What
is she doing to him?
Mack listened to the sound of
the crying baby out his window. It was relentless. A nails-on-the-chalkboard,
nerve-racking, stress-level-raising, relentless scream of agony
.
Why wasn’t she doing something? He
watched Gay Momma carry around Screaming Baby.

He hadn’t met the new neighbors next door
and really wasn’t interested in ever meeting them, but the word on the street
was that she was a Gay Momma. And the kid never stopped screaming. Every night
like clockwork, from six until eight o’clock, Screaming Baby did his thing. Screamed.
Two weeks of it. What was the matter with them?
Holy fuck. Figure it out, Gay Momma. Make it stop.

Unable to take it any longer, Mack grabbed
his guitar.
Play loud, play long, and drown
it out
. He played the first thing that came to mind – a new riff
he had in his head. He strummed it over and over, changing it a little each
time. Refined the timing and the chords. Made it smoother, worked the
transition. It was good. He liked how it grew and came together. Focused on his
music, he lost track of time.

Kalia took deep breaths and crooned a song
to Mani as she rubbed his back. She paced outside in the garden and silently
apologized to the neighbors. As she moved around the garden, the guitar playing
started. It was coming from the next-door neighbor. She hadn’t met him yet but knew
he was a musician. She hadn’t realized he was back.

He was good, really good. She didn’t
recognize the tune, but it was a great beat with a spark. She started to dance
around the backyard holding Mani. And Mani quieted. He hiccupped, and Kalia
braced for it to start again. But it didn’t. Mani listened, and Kalia danced,
and slowly Mani’s little body relaxed and his eyes drifted shut.
Poor little thing.
The crying racked his
body and left him exhausted.

She stayed outside a little longer until
the music stopped and then carefully carried Mani inside and took him upstairs to
his crib. He’d be up again in a couple of hours for a feed, but she had a bit
of time to straighten the kitchen and grab a shower.

Thank
you for the music, neighbor. A heartfelt thank you from both of us.
She stroked Mani’s cheek and covered him lightly with a blanket.

She sighed. One day down.

Kalia pounded on her neighbor’s front door
with her free hand. The other cradled a screaming Mani. In the last fifteen
days, except for the past three, the neighbor had played his guitar from six
until eight every night. And soothed Mani. It was the only thing that worked to
calm the colic. No amount of rocking, walking, or singing worked to soothe the
baby like fifteen minutes of guitar music. It was faintly amazing and fairly
irritating that Kalia had to depend on the neighbor’s guitar playing.

He was home. She knew he was home. There
was a new car in the driveway, and she could hear voices. So why wasn’t he
answering the door? She pounded again.

The door swung open, and Kalia yelped at
the suddenness of it. Mani screamed louder.

Mack frowned at them. “What?” he asked
tersely.

Kalia groaned inwardly. It was the first
time she had seen the neighbor close up. Six foot two, short dark hair with a
sexy scruff, broad shoulders in a dark T-shirt, slim hips covered in worn sexy
jeans, bare feet, and angry green eyes. Great. Just what she needed. A pissed-off
lifeline. “Hi. I live next door. I need you to play guitar,” she said in a rush
above Mani’s wailing.

“What?” His eyebrows winged up, and he put
his hands on his hips.

“Why aren’t you playing guitar? You play guitar
every night at this time.”

He shook his head. “I have company.”

“Well, you’re very good at guitar. I’m sure
they wouldn’t mind listening to it for a few minutes.” Mani screamed louder. Desperate,
Kalia strode in, noting that the layout to his home was the same as hers. Getting
a fleeting impression of dark colors and sparse furniture, she moved past him into
the living room. “Hello,” she said to the gorgeous brunette curled up on the dark
leather sofa. “Would you mind very much if . . . he,” she gestured vaguely,
realizing that she didn’t know his name, “played guitar for a few minutes? Just
a few minutes. It won’t take long.”

Mack followed her in. “Renee, this is my neighbor,
half of the gay couple that lives next door, and her screaming baby,” he said
wryly.

Kalia’s eyebrows shot up. “Yup, that’s me. The
lesbian from next door,” she said with some chagrin. Is that what the neighborhood
thought? She
was
living under a rock.
“And we just need a little guitar music if you don’t mind.” She spied two
guitars leaning on stands across the room and waved in their direction. “Whichever
works.”
Time’s a wastin’
.

Renee uncurled herself from the sofa and stood
up like a graceful reed. “Look, I gotta go,” she said to Mack, and carelessly
planted a peck on his cheek. “I’ll catch up with you in the next few days,” she
said as she shuffled her feet daintily into barely there sandals and hitched a
designer bag over her shoulder.

“Oh. Please don’t go on my account. This
won’t take long,” Kalia said, feeling a pang of guilt at breaking up the date. “His
guitar playing is pretty good.”

The tall brunette gave a sultry laugh and
strolled out.

“Pretty good?” He rested his hands on his
hips.

“All right. It’s very good. Please, just
play,” Kalia said as Mani wailed.

Mack picked up the guitar and, sitting on a
nearby chair, started playing the song he had been polishing for the last two
weeks.

As the lively notes filled the air, Kalia
swayed to the rhythm and Mani quieted. She gave a large sigh as Mani’s eyes
slowly closed and his breathing steadied. She glanced over at Mack, who was engrossed
in his playing.

Kalia looked longingly at the sofa. Not wanting
to disrupt Mani, she sat down, cradling Mani on her chest. Oh, it was so
comfortable. And the blessed relief from the heat in the air-conditioning was
heavenly. The temptation to put her feet up and stretch out on the sofa was too
much. She positioned herself comfortably, cradling Mani as he curled up on her
chest and let the music flow around her. Just ten minutes, she thought as she
closed her eyes.

Mack was absorbed in the music. He made a
minute change and played it again, then once more, listening intently to the effect
and trying to decide if that was better, more layered. Pleased with the change,
he looked around for his recorder so he could upload it to share it with Pete
and Tuck. With a start, he realized that Gay Momma and Screaming Baby were
still there. Like Goldilocks and the three bears, just make yourself at home,
he thought with a grimace.

Gay Momma was sound asleep stretched out on
the sofa. Screaming Baby was quietly curled up on her chest. They both hardly
moved, and a bit anxiously he walked over to listen for the sound of their
breathing.

It was the first time he’d really looked at
Gay Momma. She was a tiny slip of a thing. Fully stretched out, her feet didn’t
touch the end of the sofa. Brown curls were pulled carelessly in a tail, which
she’d loosened to one side. Her fine features looked serene in sleep. A little
bit different from the wild, manic expression that had greeted him earlier. Screaming
Baby stirred, smacked his lips, and settled again. Mack held his breath.

Now what? He checked his watch. He had been
playing for over an hour. Should he wake them? Get them out?

He had been away all weekend and had just
returned from a whirlwind gig in Germany. It was an audition of sorts. It still
irritated him that they all had to go over to Germany for three days and play
live. But a gig’s a gig. And it was all expenses paid, first class. So they’d
gone. And it had been extremely well received. Renee was the band’s agent, and
she had dropped by to celebrate the contract they had received as a result of
it. It was a fourteen-day concert tour in Europe tentatively scheduled for
early next spring. The details were still being hammered out, so he wouldn’t
get too excited about it yet, but it looked good.

But the jet lag was hitting him. Even after
only three days, he felt it. So what should he do with these two? Wake them? And
risk more screaming baby? No can do.

He couldn’t just leave Screaming Baby like
that. What if Gay Momma rolled over and dumped him? More screaming, he thought
with a shudder. Would the little guy crawl around? Seemed like a lot of hazards
around the room. Maybe he should just wake them and send them home. Be easiest.

He looked at her exhausted face and sighed.

He glanced over at his guitar case. It was
big enough and it was lined with faux fur, so it was soft. What did babies
need?

He dragged it over and eyed the sleeping
duo. Carefully, he lifted Screaming Baby off Gay Momma’s chest. His fingers
brushed her breasts through the thin fabric of her sundress. She’s gay, he told
himself.

The baby was lighter than he expected, and
he snuggled up in the guitar case and went back to sleep. Mack released the
breath he was holding. He covered Gay Momma with a light blanket and, shutting
off the lights, wondered how long they’d sleep for.