Run Away Baby (4 page)

Within a few months of her family’s accident, Abby’s grandmothers, both of them widows, had passed away, further cementing her status as an orphan. Her parents had both been only children. This was when Randall still had something to prove. He took care of all the arrangements for her grandmothers since Abby was their only living descendant. She wouldn’t have had a clue how to handle any of it; She was only twenty-two and had turned to her parents for advice on dilemmas big and small. How to deal with roommate problems, boyfriend problems, professor problems? Her parents had effectually made all her decisions. Their wisdom and experience influenced all her actions, and following their advice gave her the outward appearance of being very mature and pulled together. It was the exact opposite, however; She had barely any inner barometer of logic. With all the answers a phone call away, she’d never needed one.

Abby’s mom’s good friend Sharon had taken care of Abby’s parents’ and sisters’ funeral arrangements and the settling of their estate, and she’d let her, gladly signing over all the rights and responsibilities to her. She trusted people at this time. She believed that pretty much anyone could to do a better job than she could do. She was glad for people like Sharon, glad for people like Randall. She assumed they all knew more than she knew, and that deferring to them was the responsible thing to do.

During that summer, Randall was simply
there
. Everyone else was gone or busy or afraid of what to do with all of Abby’s sadness. But not Randall.

“Come out to dinner with me,” he’d tell her.

“I don’t have anything to talk about,” she’d warn him.

“So look pretty and keep me company.”

For months they had attended classical concerts, eating at places with outside seating where Abby could be shown off. These dates, or whatever they were, consisted of Randall talking about his day and Abby propping herself upright, picking at her food, nodding at the appropriate moments.

As time went by, her college wardrobe began to get in the way. He started bringing her the right clothes to wear. “Here. Why don’t you wear this nice dress?” he’d suggest when he came to pick her up.

“Oh, sure. It’s pretty,” she’d tell him. And she’d put it on, feeling like it made no difference to her, and if it made him happy, why not.

Months of this went by before he kissed her goodbye on the cheek a few times, and once awkwardly on the mouth. And then he invited her on a trip to the south of France. Abby’s friend Celeste recognized the enormity of this even if Abby did not.

“The south of
France”
she’d said on the day when Abby had phoned her to get her opinion on it.
“Oh my God, Abby! That sounds amazing. You’re so lucky. But do you even
like
him?”

“Does it matter?” Abby had asked.

She had just come back from Orlando, having made a special trip there to drive past her old house. A new family lived there now and she’d had a sick need to see what the house looked like with someone else in it. There was an American flag flying beside her old front door and a long, ugly plastic bench on the porch. A white truck was in the driveway. She’d worn sunglasses and had hoped that none of her old neighbors recognized her. She hated how their houses all seemed exactly the same. It felt like a betrayal.

It had been a five-hour drive, roundtrip, and she had cried the whole way back.

“But Abby, are you
seriously
considering going with him?” Celeste had continued.

“Maybe.”

“You’ll have to have sex. He’s obviously expecting this to be a romantic getaway.”

“I won’t
have
to have sex. He’s not like that. He’s not pushy. He’s really nice. Not like guys our age. He understands I lost my entire family and that I can’t even think about stuff like sex right now.”

“It’s been months and he probably thinks you’re ready to move on.”

“I’m not though. And why would I want to with him?”

“I don’t think you should go if you don’t like him.”

“I like him well enough to go on a trip.”

“You shouldn’t go if you don’t
love
him, I mean.”

“I don’t think I’ll ever love anyone again.”

“You will too.” Celeste had sounded exasperated, like Abby was being overly dramatic. It was fall now, going on six months since she had lost her family, and the few friends still lingering on wanted the old Abby back. The fun Abby.

Abby wasn’t being dramatic, though. She was telling the truth. “I need to get away from here,” she told Celeste.

“Why don’t you go somewhere with me then? We could drive someplace and go camping.”

“I don’t know.” Abby thought about it for a second. Camping sounded terrible.

“How are you going to afford it? Is he going to pay for everything for you?”

Abby didn’t say that now that her parents and grandmothers had all died within a few months of one another, she had close to a million dollars in the bank. Lawyers told her it wasn’t as much as it sounded like, and that she should get help figuring out how to take care of it so it lasted. On the other hand they said, it’s a lot of money, protect it.

Randall had helped her invest it and she had been glad for his help. She’d given him complete control of how it was invested, but it was still hers. That was another thing no one would have believed: that she hadn’t married Randall for his money.

“He’s so generous. He’s paying for everything,” Abby told her friend. It was the simplest answer, and true.

“Suit yourself,” said Celeste.

“It’s only a trip. He even said we’d have a suite with separate bedrooms if that’s what I wanted.”

“Then do it.”

Abby hung up feeling like Celeste wasn’t being very nice, all things considered. Resentment over the material abundance within her reach was affecting her friends’ opinions of her. Despite what she had lost, they had their opinions and jealousies over her getting free trips and presents while they ate toast and ramen noodles and worried whether they had enough money for the gas required to get to work.

On the second night of the trip Randall came into Abby’s room. He started rubbing her back and she was too tired to fight it. She let him have sex with her. He proposed to her on the last night of their trip. She felt guilty about letting him take her on such a nice vacation so she said yes.

Part of her had died with her family. She’d been numb ever since.
Whatever, who cares,
she thought. She’d had this idea that she didn’t have much time left and what difference did it make if she finished her remaining days with him. She was glad that she was able to make anyone happy, since she couldn’t make herself happy. Now, years later, she wondered how she hadn’t realized that each day was still going to take twenty-four hours, and that she’d had her whole life ahead of her. At that time, back when she was a hundred million years old and half dead, it hadn’t felt like that.

“I suppose I can stick around today if you need me to,” Abby told Danielle.

“Thank you. I’m having lunch with a friend from college and we couldn’t schedule it any other time. Thank you
so
much.” She actually looked like she meant it.

“Really, it’s nothing.”

Randall had been surprisingly indifferent to Abby going from eight to ten hours per week, so she’d begun covering for Danielle’s lunch almost every time she worked. These two hours, when the office was empty and Danielle was not around to hover and criticize, were becoming Abby’s favorite time of the week.

A few minutes after Danielle left, the front door opened and in walked the mailman.

“Well, hello there,” he said.

“Hi,” Abby said. The letters were ready, set aside in a tidy pile.

“It’s Abby, right?”

“That’s right.”

“Charlie,” said the mailman, sticking out his hand to her. He’d only introduced himself to her five or six times now. These introductions were becoming his little game.

“Nice to see you again, Charlie.”

“Is that a new dress?”

“It’s not a dress. It’s just a top with a skirt.”

“Well, it looks good on you. You look tan.”

“Thank you,” she said, glancing down at her daisy patterned blouse.

“So, what have you got for me today?”

“Just these,” she said, handing him the pile of outgoing mail.

“That’s it?”

“That’s it.”

“Do you think it’s fair,” he asked, setting the plastic bin of letters by her feet, “that I keep bringing you all this, and all I get in return is one little stack of mail?” He propped his elbows on the little ledge in front of her, leaning over her, grinning.

“Who ever said life was fair?” she asked him.

“Huh.” He raised an eyebrow at her. “I didn’t take you for the jaded type.”

“I’m not jaded. I’m a realist.”

“A realist, you say.”

She nodded, glancing at the door. She didn’t want Clark Lorbmeer to walk in and discover the mailman hanging over her, dripping sweat onto all the partners’ business cards.

“Or maybe you’re sad?” he said.

“No. I’m really happy,” she said.

“Then say it like you mean it,” he whispered.

“I’m happy,” she repeated.

“If you’re not, let me know, and I’ll see what I can do to fix it.”

The door opened and the UPS guy walked in.

“Hello, Yellow!” he said to Abby. “You look like sunshine today!”

Charlie stepped back, nodding at him. He couldn’t hide his annoyance at the intrusion.

“Hi, Dave,” said Abby.

“It’s Grand Central Station around here today,” said Dave. “The Fed Ex guy’s right behind me. Sign here, Abby. Do you want these in the breakroom?”

“Sure,” she said, just as the Fed Ex guy walked in.

“See you soon,” said Charlie, leaving without taking her stack of mail.

Abby scribbled her name on the Fed Ex guy’s tablet and ran after Charlie with the mail. He hadn’t gotten far. She suspected he’d left the mail there on purpose.

“Charlie! Wait up! You forgot these,” she said.

“Oh. Sorry about that.” He took them from her, making a point to let his hand linger on hers.

She yanked her hand away. “Okay. See ya,” she said.

“I’m looking forward to it,” he called after her.

She shook her head. If this guy didn’t tone it down, he was going to get her in trouble.

People assumed Abby was a second or third wife, that she broke up something sacred and more real than what she and Randall now had. She was, however, his first wife. His one and only. She could see the irony in something so bad having had an honest start.

Her first year with Randall wasn’t that awful. They traveled more back then, six or eight trips a year, and he worked less, distracted enough by the newness of her to take a hiatus from being a workaholic.

She’d thought having children was part of why he’d married her, until the day she checked the messages on their answering machine and heard a confirmation from the doctor’s office for his upcoming vasectomy appointment. They’d discussed starting a family two weeks earlier while lazing on a beach in Hawaii. She had thought it had been a discussion, anyhow. She’d told Randall that she would like to have a baby and he’d told her that she would be cute when she was pregnant. She had felt like she was beautiful to him that day. Not in a trophy kind of way, but in some softer, sweeter way. It had been an actual aphrodisiac; they’d gone inside their hotel room and had not-even-that-bad sex. “Maybe I should go off the pill?” she’d asked him and he’d said, “Maybe.”

That trip was the happiest Abby had ever been with Randall. She had resigned herself to this being her life, and she’d realized it wasn’t all bad. The vasectomy call was a total blindside. It was the first time Randall’s rampant selfishness and dishonesty had been directed toward her. She was convinced the call was a mistake. When he got home that night she asked him about it and he didn’t even deny it.

“I thought it was for the best. I’m too old to be a father, and you’re too young and beautiful to be a mother. Don’t you think we’ve got a good thing going here just like it is?”

“This isn’t the kind of thing you decide without talking to me.”

“It’s
my
body,” he said.

“What about that talk we were having in Hawaii?”

“What talk?”

“We were talking about maybe starting a family.”

“I don’t remember that.”

“We
just
talked about it.”

“Huh.” He shook his head. “I don’t know.”

“That message said your appointment is in two days.”

“Yeah, it is.”

“I thought we were a team,” she said, desperate to make him understand how powerless he was making her feel.

“No,” he said. “A man and a woman are never a team. I’m the quarterback. You’re the cheerleader. It’s how God and nature intended.”

“Did God and nature intend for you to not have babies with me? ‘Cause if so, you wouldn’t have to have an operation to keep it from happening.”

“Don’t try to argue with me. You’ll never win.”

“Then I don’t know what to say to you.”

“Don’t say anything at all.”

This was her first inkling of how screwed she was. She’d seen and heard him treat plenty of other people this way, but she never imagined she’d be one of them.

A few days after his vasectomy, Randall was on damage control. “Go get your hair done,” he told her.

“I’m fine,” she said. No one from her generation thought getting a haircut was a treat.

“I insist,” he said.

When she got back home there was a silver BMW in their driveway, complete with a gigantic bow on it. It was not anything she’d ever wanted, but he felt good giving it to her, and enjoyed the way she looked driving around in it. He wanted people to believe he spoiled her.

From the time of his vasectomy on, no matter how many times she asked him to stop, whenever people asked them if they had children he’d wrap his arm around her shoulder, give her a squeeze, and say, “Just this one.”