Tangled Up in Daydreams (32 page)

“Molly, I don't know how to help, and that's what scares me.”

“Look, after being here for the last few weeks, my head is finally clear again and I know now that I can't walk—or really run—away from him. It's weak to do it. That's not who I am. I have to give this one more try because I know the meaning of family from all of you. He is mine, and I have to try. I need you to say that's okay and that you will be there for me.”

“Whether or not I think this is okay, I will always be there for you. I love you more than anything.” Holding her daughter.

Helen and Molly stayed entwined for what seemed like hours. The phone interrupted their silent reverie.

“I'll get it.” Molly ran to the other room to grab the phone.

“Hello.”

“Hi, is Molly there? This is Dr. Marcus.”

“Who is it?” Helen called from the other room.

“Hi, it's for me, Mom.” Clearing her throat. “Hi, Dr. Marcus.”

“I have the tests back and there is no sign of any bacteria or parasite in your system.”

“Well, that's great, right?”

“Right, but I have some other news. Congratulations! You're pregnant. You probably have been experiencing some early morning sickness, which should ease as the pregnancy continues.”

“Excuse me?” Paling, even though she knew this was what he was going to say.

“You're pregnant. I would, when you get back to LA, go see your gynecologist who can help you get on a prenatal routine.”

“Uh.” Not knowing how to respond, feeling her tongue swell in her mouth.

“Molly?”

“Yeah, I'm here.”

“Are you okay?”

“Not really.”

“So, I take it this was not planned?”

“You could say that.” Wrapping the cord around her good hand.

“Take some time for it to settle. You'll be fine.”

“Okay, yeah.” Whispering into the phone.

“By the way, I need you to come in in five days so I can remove the stitches, or you can get them removed back in LA.”

“Sure.” Spitting out the words as her throat closed. “Okay.”

“Take a deep breath.”

“Thanks.”

“Congratulations, Molly.”

“Yeah, yeah. Thanks.” Choking out the words.

Molly hung up the phone and slid to the floor. It's all fun and games until someone gets pregnant. Molly swallowed hard. Although she had that creeping feeling that this was what was going on with her, it felt like a Mack truck ran over her the minute the words tumbled from the doctor's lips. The Mud Flap Girls were smacking her head. Hearing it out loud confirmed by another person made it stick. Molly was covered in glue. A baby. Her baby. Her and Liam's baby. How? When? They were careful. She had been sick recently, antibiotics fucked with her pill? She was the one percent? How? Why? When? A baby? Her baby? His baby? Molly swallowed again and took a deep breath. This definitely changes things. This changes everything. She set her hand on her stomach and rubbed. She didn't feel anything. A baby, her baby. Their baby. Molly stood up quickly and ran up the stairs to her room. She locked the door, threw herself onto her bed, and started to cry softly.

H
enry went to bed that night with an ambidextrous four-hundred-pound gorilla on his chest braiding fishtails with his hair. He felt like an anchor—heavy, cold, and numb. Molly refused to come out or speak to any of them. He didn't blame her. He had acted like a real shit. Yelling at her when all she wanted was to be held tight and listened to. He had screwed up, but how could he play the easygoing dad when all he felt was rage? Rage at Liam, rage at her, rage at himself for not being able to keep her safely tucked away from needy men looking to feast on the tender flesh of innocents. Henry had trouble keeping his emotions at bay; they were percolating under the surface. He was a terrible liar, no poker face whatsoever. He just wished for once he had reigned himself in instead of railing against Molly.

All he could think to do after his petulant exit was feed her. He made her a grilled cheddar cheese and a small salad and left it by her door on a ceramic tray. She had only eaten a few tiny bites when he went to retrieve it later. He couldn't even feed her the right way. He couldn't do anything right. What are fathers supposed to do when daughters grow up and move away? When they have their own issues, dilemmas, and crosses to bear? When no matter what the advice or help is, they remain stubbornly steadfast on their own path? Of course, it's truly what you want them to do. A father wants his daughter to be strong-minded, independent, and passionate, but he also wants to be able to somehow always keep her safe, keep her not quite strong enough, and keep her not quite independent. When Molly was born, Henry wept. He remembered sitting next to a napping Helen, holding his precious girl in his arms and weeping. Glad he had a girl, happy she was healthy, but devastated that one day she would leave him for another man and enter an embrace that was just not going to be as protected as it would be for a boy. She was so small and fragile, so easily hurt. Her skin was almost translucent. Henry was so fearful.

When Molly was a teenager, they seldom fought. Maybe it was the distance he maintained or the fact that both of them were not very good at confrontation, but once the gloves were on, the battles were vicious. Henry couched his fear for her in anger at her. He couldn't express to her how terrified he was, he could only yell at her when she was late or forgot to call. Gradually, as she got older and more mature, he let her live her life and he got on with his. He truly thought that he was done being frightened and overprotective, but he was mistaken. Every bone in his body was aching, and he knew no amount of Advil would ease his discomfort. He was vulnerable and he was livid. He just didn't want to yell anymore, but he was lost without his voice.

Helen lay awake as well. She could feel Henry's body rigid beside her. She knew he was up, but she didn't dare speak. With so much flying around inside, articulation was impossible. Were things just harder now? More difficult for women, for girls? Helen couldn't get her head around what Molly was dealing with. Sure, she and Henry had had their share of problems, moments of isolation, moments of “Is this going to work?” But those issues now seem simple in comparison. Also, before Henry there had been other men. One particular rebel with thick black hair, bell-bottoms, and a knack for undressing her in under a minute. They had a brief scorching affair filled with philosophy and music, and Helen was completely obsessed. She lived and breathed his patchouli smell, scribbled every exchange in her notebook, but she got over it, got over him. Got tired of the hell she endured wondering whether other women may or may not be sharing his bed or holding his lid of weed in her dorm room. Got tired of seeing countless movies alone when he never showed. She got over her obsession with that bad boy, the one her parents warned her about, outgrew him, stopped loving him, starting seeing him for the man he was. Why couldn't her daughter do the same? Find someone steady and sweet and easy most of the time like Henry? Liam was damaged goods no matter how wonderful he could be, a piece of yolk-stained silverware. Molly was an antique set gleaming with the shine of soft-cloth attention. Grand and bright with promise.

What kind of father would a man like Liam be? If and when Molly had her children, could a man like Liam support her, them? Teach them, inspire them? Could Molly make a home with a firm, solid foundation with a man so unsteady? Could she have forever with a man who kills himself slowly? Even if he gets treatment, will he always walk the edge? Live on the precipice of danger? Would he be happy in the simplicity of a normal life? Would he make Molly happy? Helen grabbed the blanket and pulled it tightly around her. She was shivering. She knew she would always have doubts and she hated that. How could she be strong for her daughter when she felt so afraid?

Alex and Renee slept soundly that night wrapped in each other's arms. Despite her burgeoning belly, Alex managed to somehow swallow her in his embrace. Renee breathed in his scent, let the fine hair on his arms tickle her sides. She felt relief. After a long afternoon of yelling and crying and talking to each other, they were centered again. Alex was furious at her for divulging their secrets, yet he knew he couldn't make demands on how Renee needed or wanted to handle the situation. Renee knew he felt ashamed that his sister was well aware of how low he could stoop and it almost made her regret her decision, but she also knew it would never be spoken of again. Maybe everyone, now that all could finally see one another on more human terms, would connect on a more profound level.

Renee snuggled deeper into Alex's embrace. Some days she imagined something bigger, better, something without the baggage they had, but she felt grateful for something reliable. Even after all they had been through she felt blessed with a man who adored her, who never really yelled without good reason. She was lucky to have a man who always bought her small presents and who talked pleasantly to everyone even when reservations were fouled up or parts were missing, broken, or delivered late. She knew she could depend on Alex, always, especially after the storm they weathered. Maybe she was nuts to be grateful for a man who had strayed once, but she was sure that he was the man for her, and that his action was one mistake in what would be a long life of loving moments.

She wished Molly had found someone a little less intense than Liam, less flawed, but Molly was always more optimistic about people, more trusting. She always saw that inner spark no matter the package, and did everything and anything to cultivate it. If someone caught Molly's eye, and Molly believed in him or her, it would be a permanent, direct, and constant stare. If people looked closely into Molly's eyes, they could see their best selves, reflected back. It made people want to be whatever she saw. She carefully peeled away the leaves of self-doubt and deprecation until she unearthed the soft core of who someone was. Like Molly had when Renee was a chubby, awkward teenager who needed someone to tell her she was fine just the way she was, Liam needed Molly's gaze to feel like a man, to feel like he was something worth anything.

Molly loved him because he must do that same thing to her. When you are the one who makes others believe in themselves, it takes a very special person to do the same for yourself. Renee knew that beneath the confident exterior, Molly never felt like enough of anything despite being everything. Renee had seen the vulnerability lurking under the façade of Molly. Somehow Molly had let Liam in and under everything she had once kept tightly locked away. Renee understood now that this was the one man who made Molly view herself in all her glory. He had seen her inside and out, and the gaze was essential—like sun or water or a basket of hot fish-and-chips. Molly would love him and stick by him until there was nothing left. Renee snuggled back into Alex and said a small prayer for her sister, the hopeless romantic who should hopefully never be hopeless again.

Alex felt Renee relax and settle into sleep. Every night, he kissed her hair and twirled a lock in his free hand. It was his ritual. He did it to make sure that Renee was still there because he knew how close he had come to losing her altogether. How could he have been so careless, so stupid? What must his sister think of him? He was scum. He was embarrassed that Molly knew. She had been right this morning. He was not one to judge, but that did not stop him from wanting to. However, how could he deprive someone of the second chance he himself blessedly received? He just wished that the star player in this drama was not his sister.

He looped Renee's hair around his thumb. The blond looked almost blue. He never fell for a blonde before Renee. Small and dark was how he liked them. He always knew Renee and felt completely at ease around her, but never imagined that his sister's best friend and sidekick would evolve into his ideal match. After college and cooking school, he came home to find her the most sparkling woman he had ever met. It's strange how sometimes one can know somebody forever, see her all the time, know her sense of humor, what she likes on her burgers, how she combs her hair, and one day in a flash it is all new. It's as if the most familiar people become perfect strangers in the blink of an eye. One has to relearn every detail and it all seems fresh even though every story, every laugh line, every scar is familiar. When they fell in love everything was novel, yet they had a history. Their webs of connection were so entwined that they got married only one year after they started dating. Why couldn't his sister have found something like this? Something soft like a slipper, warm like hot chocolate, and comfortable like a worn-in pair of boxers? Molly always did things the hard way, always moving, needing change. Alex hoped she would change all this, but he knew deep down he was grasping at straws.

Molly decided the house was too quiet. She longed to scream, shatter the stillness, but that would probably wig her parents out completely. She wanted everything to be out in the open instead of coiled within her like a shiny new Slinky itching for its first flight of stairs. She felt suspended, hovering just outside herself in an alternate reality, one without sound, just the beating of her heart. Molly could almost hear the extra thump of her baby even though she knew that was impossible. Her baby. It was so strange to have those words milling about. She was going to have a baby. That certainly was not part of any possible plan she had for her immediate future. None of the last few weeks had been a part of her big plan. Not the overdose, nor the store, nor this permanent other priority she was carrying within. Why is it that she could travel along and feel everything was going just the way she imagined them to be and in one rush it all gets flipped on its head? Life can really change completely in an instant. How was she going to have a baby? She slept late, went to bed late, sometimes smoked and drank and cursed and hung out at dive bars with tattooed bartenders and friends with piercings. Wait, she had drunk while pregnant—did she fuck up the baby already? When does fetal alcohol syndrome kick in? There was that doctor's report on TV saying you could have a glass of wine every once in a while that she had watched with Renee....