Skin Like Dawn (6 page)

Natalie Savannah Chandler Greene deserved a night of forgetting the bottomless pit of shit that he’d placed both of them in. 

And while the rest of the Chandler family sauntered into the restaurant slowly, Natalie halted her husband’s progression and pulled him aside. 

“Tonight.  I’m doing it.” 

“Doing what, exactly?” 

“Telling my family about the baby.  And school.” 

“Natalie, are you serious?” 

“I did it for us.” Arching up on her tiptoes, she pecked his cheek.  “She’ll have to understand.” 

Natalie’s fearlessness at that moment ignited something in him, taking her by the hand and propelling forward with his wife in tow.  They hadn’t once taken a moment to decide what it all meant, and how they were going to handle their predicament; but Natalie’s ease of mind made it feel a little better.  

Taking their seats at a round table in the back, the host wished Natalie a very “Happy Birthday” and offered her a choice of their finest house wines.  Looking at him, her lips curled.  “No wine for me.  But, Brandon...please choose something for the table.” 

“Your sweetest and lightest, please.”  Phew, what a save.  Though, Helen Chandler wasted no time in eyeing her curiously through the flickering candlelight in the center of the table.  

“Drinking, Boy?” Helen leaned into the table, clasping her hands together.  She looked dignified and intimidating in all black, her hair framing her face like an ominous shroud.  If she stared any longer, he’d simply whittle away inside, strangely emasculating and curdling.  “How are you going to get us home safely?” 

He blinked.  Natalie placed a hand on his thigh.  

“Mama,” she began, tempering the warning in her voice.  “A glass or two of wine isn’t going to hurt anyone.  Let him have a little fun.” 

They locked eyes, and she winked at him.  

Helen relented.  “What’s good here?  Have you two dined here before?” 

Brandon intrinsically looped his arm around Natalie’s shoulder.  Her mother flickered at the gesture, then returned her eye’s to her daughter’s face.  “It’s one of our favorite places, actually.  We always come here, right, Tal?” 

Natalie’s lipped curled.  “Well, it’s been a couple of months.  Not since...well...your birthday, right?  When I...” 

He lightly stepped on the top of her foot, distracting her just enough to keep her from finishing her thought.  Recollection covered her face, and with eyebrows raised, she pleasantly replied, “Yea, I always get the same thing.  They have blackened tilapia.  Mama, you love tilapia.”  

“Not anymore.” Sidney stirred at her water.  “She’s been on some new, out-of-the-blue-diet ever since Emmett came around.” 

This revelatory statement took everyone by surprise, even Helen, who appeared appalled that anyone had picked up on it at all.  

Natalie lurched forward, dropping her hand from his knee.  “Emmett...?” 

Marie clicked her teeth.  “Sidney...” 

Maya chuckled.  “Well, it’s out now.” 

“Oh, please.  Nattie, how are you classes?  You don’t know how many people at church are so elated that you’re in med school at Duke University.  My baby girl.  Always been so smart...”

“Mama.” Natalie was eyeballing her mother, regarding her with unkempt judgment.  “Who is Emmett?” 

He remembered an awkward familial moment just like this one, when his mother decided to reveal to his father that she’d tapped into the savings account to put a down payment on a brand new Mercedes.  He was ten at the time, gangly and goofy with braces, and very little knowledge of how his own dick worked.  And he’d looked into his father’s eyes, witnessing for the very first time, the unbridled contempt he may have had for Martha Abbott Greene.  

Now, he squeezed at Natalie’s shoulder to soothe her, feeling the tension in her muscles through her shirt.  

Helen cleared her throat.  “We will talk about this later, Natalie Savannah.” 

“I don’t see anyone at this table who isn’t a part of my family and who doesn’t deserve to know.” 

“Tallie.”  He moved his face closer to hers.  “It’s your birthday.  Let’s save it.  Your family’s come a long way.” 

Maya dropped her napkin on her plate.  “Nat, seems like you need a drink.  Where the hell did that waiter go?” 

Natalie huffed.  “I don’t need a goddamn drink.  I just need to know who Emmett is.” 

Helen’s face curled in alarm.  “Excuse me? Have you lost your mind, dear child of mine?” 

Brandon’s heart leapt to his throat, recalling what the doctor had told them the week before.  The first trimester: nausea, food aversions, mood swings.  Those fucking mood swings.  And the cursing.  Lots of cursing.  

“Fuck” was her favorite word to use.  Then came “shit”.  But “goddamn” was a new one.  And, for once, he wasn’t the reason that prompted her to use it.  

He needed to try and calm her again, before Helen reached across the table and slapped her foolishly in front of the entire restaurant.  That would be a birthday she’d never forget, surely.  

However, thwarting his advances, Maya and Sidney stood to their feet in an eerily synchronized fashion.  Then, the youngest Chandler sister reached for Natalie’s hand, tugging upward.  “Can we see you in the bathroom for about five seconds?” 

Natalie complied in a rather uncharacteristic way, leaving him with a sympathetic glance as they disappeared through the restaurant.  Marie then placed her hand atop his.  “Is she alright?” 

He swallowed thickly.  Glaring into Marie Chandler’s sweet, open face filled him with immediate open guilt as he formed his lips to emit a lie, knowing full-well what she was really asking.  Nodding his head, almost hypnotically, he parted his lips and replied, “She’s fine.  Just a little tired and a little overly excited that you guys are here.” 

“Hmph.” Marie seemed less than satisfied with that answer.  “Just make sure you’re looking after her correctly.  Take our Natalie too far out of her element and she...well...”

He smiled.  “She’s fine.  I’m looking after her well.  We’re better than ever.” 

He figured that if he spoke it into existence, then maybe it would become so.  His own inner guilt had surmounted against him, to the point where he had difficulty seeing things as they were.  Instead, he made a point to idealize his situation, with no regard to wallowing in it, looking at this incident of fate as an opportunity for he and Natalie to rekindle the facet of them that they’d lost along the way.  He’d make love to her the way he fantasized about when they were younger, when he could only ogle from afar, touch with the tips of his fingertips, but never fully submerse himself in.  It would keep him from admitting fault in himself, at having failed her once again, in an attempt to prove his love and loyalty to her.  

How the hell did she view him now?

Helen Chandler was staring at him again, willing him to reveal something.  But how could he possibly word it?  And wasn’t that Natalie’s role?  Who was he, even in his aggressive and loud-mouthed disposition, to speak for his wife that way?  

“Helen, did you want to try the tilapia or something else?  There’s a ton of great dishes on the menu.” 

She cleared her throat.  “Brandon Greene, you have about two seconds to tell me what’s going on with my daughter before I lose it.” 

“There’s no need.”  Natalie’s hand were on his shoulders.  Sidney and Maya had returned to their seats, with conscience-stricken expressions slathered on their faces.  “I can do that for him.” 

He reached for his wife’s hand to stop her.  She gazed down at him reassuringly and murmured, “It’s okay. I promise.” Her sense of calm frightened him.  

“Natalie, you’d better start talking, girl.” 

“Lately, I’ve spent my mornings vomiting to the point where I feel as though I’ve lost ten pounds.  I now consume more than the average three hundred pound man.  And I once loved pistachio ice cream, but the smell of it makes me vomit even more.  I cry more often now than I ever did as a child...over little things here and there that upset me or make me really happy.  Like, whenever Brandon cleans up after himself without having me tell him to, or when I get a great grade on a test that I never thought I’d make it through.  If you haven’t guessed it already, Mama, Brandon and I are going to have a baby.  I’m about two months along.  And I was so frightened...the point where I sat in the Dean’s office and withdrew from Duke University’s School of Medicine.  I’m sure at this point, they’ve found someone to replace me.  Someone young, fresh, and unattached.  Someone who hasn’t the slightest clue what it feels like to love someone more than you’ll ever love yourself...and...and give up your life for that person.  I’m talking real sacrifice, Mama.”

Natalie returned to her seat that the table, placing her napkin in her lap.  Helen was staring at her daughter.  Marie was staring at Helen.  Sidney and Maya were looking down at their plate chargers.  Natalie snaked her hand across his lap and reached for his.  She squeezed it tightly.  For strength, he figured.  Her palms were clammy.  

Marie started to cry.  “Another great-grandchild?  Just for me?” 

Natalie smiled.  “Yes, grandma.” 

Then, Helen glared at him.  “You.” 

He parted his lips, but the waiter returned to the table and tapped him on the shoulder.  “Mr. Greene?”

His mouth was dry.  He could barely speak.  “Yes?” 

“The package you requested has been delivered.  It’s...uh...it’s in the parking lot.” 

Natalie turned to him, brows furrowed and baffled.  “What package?” 

The shitty timing, in tune with the sinking look of contempt on Helen Chandler’s face, made him feel irreversibly nauseous.  “Well...since we’re making unwarranted declarations at your birthday dinner, I guess I’ll share mine.” 

“What the hell do you mean?” 

“There’s a car in the parking lot.  A brand new one.  Black.  A Camry.” 

His wife’s mouth dropped open.  “Brandon...what are you talking about?” 

“I may or may not have purchased a car for your birthday and had it delivered here.” 

Maya leaned forward.  “Is this a bad time to tell you guys that I helped him pick it out?” 

“Brandy, you bought me a car?” 

“Yes, baby.” 

“Where did you get the money to buy me a Camry?” 

“Don’t ask me that.” 

“We need to go home.” 

“What?” 

“Home.  We need to leave now.” 

Helen got to her feet.  She was fuming.  “You’re damn right we do!”

HE FELT SICK ENOUGH to the point where he didn’t know what to do with himself.  Maya and Sidney were on his living room couch, flicking through the channels aimlessly.  Marie had retired to bed, unable to witness what might occur between her daughter and her grandchild.  Natalie and Helen were somewhere else in the house, an awkward, tense silence, pulsating through the house.  He felt propelled to go looking for them, half-afraid of what he might find and the other half, beyond curious of how his wife was handling herself.  

Maya was looking up at him with an amalgam of pity and confusion.  “It’ll be alright.” She sounded earnest.  “Shit happens, you know?” 

This was coming from the mouth of someone who was three years Natalie’s junior and one of the most promising graphic designers in the small agency she worked for in Savannah.  Her idea of dependency lied with her artistic ability, combined with her driven passion to succeed without the desperation to lean on another person for financial and emotional support.  That had been Natalie once upon a time: a dreamer with a hard-edge and a quiet intellect almost as indiscreet as the steam against a window on a hot summer morning.  She had only one direct line of sight and he’d stepped in the way somehow, with his big clumsy feet, forcing his way into her life without a second thought.  He was to blame for all of this shit.  

He cleared his throat.  “It will be soon.” And he excused himself from the room, recalling the conversation that he and Maya had had over the phone a few days earlier, knowing full well what it meant.  He could do the logical, adult thing and find something simple, quick and just enough...until...until when, exactly?  What glimmer of light through an opening of thick, dark clouds was he waiting for?   He’d waited for Natalie to come all of those years ago, but she never really did - he went hurdling after her, clumsily meeting her more than halfway, spouting out confessions of love and devotion while she stared at him dumbfounded.  He’d always tripped over her more than he should her, taking a backseat, itching and writhing the entire time, grinding his lips to quell the urge to lead.  Control.  He’d liked to be in control.  

He went upstairs to splash water on his face, shake the feeling of unsettling resolution, and to catch his breath.  But hushed voices from the guest bedroom stopped him cold, just right within the breath of earshot, through a crack in the door.  He could see Natalie’s face, illuminated by the amber glow of the lamp on the flimsy nightstand.  Tears pooled in her eyes as she stared at her mother, running her tongue over her lips as the saltwater ran straight to them.  Helen placed her hands on her daughter’s arms to steady her.  Natalie wriggled out of her grasp like an insolent child.  “No.”  She took a step back.  “He’s my husband.  I won’t do this to him.  The decisions I’ve made since I said my vows are because of him.  Not because of you or anyone else in our family.  And now, this baby.  I’m keeping my baby, mama.” 

“Natalie, the sacrifices I made weren’t for me.  They were for you and Maya and Sidney.” 

“So, shouldn’t you understand more than anyone what this means?  I want to give this baby life.” 

“I didn’t raise you to be subservient to a man, Natalie Chandler.  I didn’t sacrifice my time and my well-being so that you could go all of this way then suddenly stop once a tall man with a pretty face jumps into the picture.” 

“Why, because it happened to you?” 

Helen lunged her flattened palm toward Natalie’s face, cracking the side of her cheek like the snap of a whip.  Natalie stumbled backward, prompting him to burst through the door and catch his wife before she hit the floor.  Immediately remorseful, Helen attempted to reach for Natalie, muttering apologies through muffled sobs.  Natalie nestled her head into the nook of Brandon’s shoulder blade, quelling her urge to scream.