When You Make It Home (20 page)

“But I remember you being so afraid to love him.”

“Yes, I was afraid, but love trumps fear. Your love has to be greater than the fear that goes with it. It’s okay to be afraid. You have to keep moving forward.” Ellie leaned in closer. “Plus, with Theo you must take into account what he’s going through.”

“I do. I always do.”

“I know, but he’s
still
struggling… adjusting. His darkest days may be ahead of him.”

She was right. Who was I to expect so much from him? He said he loved me, and one thing Theo never did was lie. I didn’t know what was going on with him. He had people he could relate to. Guys that understood him in a way I never would. Adding alcohol to his meds couldn’t be a good thing; nevertheless, I didn’t know how to confront him. Yes, I wanted to help him. I wanted him to lean on me. But that wasn’t my decision.

And I had no idea where he’d gone, where he was, or when I’d see him again. Again.

Jake returned from work early in the afternoon, so I left. Holding on to hopes Theo might be around, I called his cell, but as usual, he didn’t answer. Not in the mood to be home alone, I decided to shop for Ellie’s baby shower. At the Super Baby Depot I checked out invitations, thinking about a theme for the party. More exhausted than I’d realized, I mourned that I was no longer an energetic person full of spark. Just under twenty-five weeks, I was a bloated load of tiredness at a time I was told was supposed to be the best of pregnancy. The strain of everything was taking its toll. I was big, and tired, and hungry all the time. I’d finally given in and bought a pair of shoes a half size larger and wore clothes only with a waist made of the kindest elastic for a generous give. My days of buttons and zippers were over for a while. Even the sexy little black number I bought was cut like a tent that could comfortably sleep a family of four or one pregnant woman deep in her second trimester.

Walking past the gliders, I went to the one Theo and I had purchased a few weeks ago and took a seat, propping my feet in the matching rocking ottoman. The one we bought was hidden away in the baby’s room with everything else we’d purchased. If the motion soothed the baby the same way it soothed my nerves, it would end up being the best purchase I made. I cradled my belly and rocked away to the singing of The Bangles, telling me to Walk Like an Egyptian.

A couple checking out baby carriers caught my attention. The man strapped on a Baby Björn, chuckling with his wife, who looked as though she was either past due or carrying twins. My poor legs already ached in constant protest. If I grew to that size, I would have to hire someone to cart me around in a wheelbarrow. She held a cherub-like baby doll with a smooth, round head. Her husband took the pseudo infant and tried to slip it into the carrier. The woman’s patience dwindled, and she snatched the pink, vinyl feet, yanking them into the leg holes, which made my skin prickle in a response that was an absurdly protective, considering no child was harmed. She waved her iPhone around, ordering her husband to smile for a photo.

I rocked to the rhythm of Katy Perry on Muzak.

Turning my focus to a woman about my age strolling along with an older version of herself—clearly her mother—the companionship void in my life widened. Their shopping cart was full of baby bedding, a matching lamp, and an excess of bottle paraphernalia. At the diaper display, they debated brands.

“Mom, the one that costs the most isn’t necessarily the best,” the younger woman said. Her hands pressed into the small of her back. She exhaled, sticking out her lower lip, and blew wispy bangs off her forehead.

Busy inspecting the boxes, her mother didn’t look up as she spoke. “I know, but you don’t want to get the cheapest ones, either. Let’s buy a couple different kinds and let the baby decide which one he prefers.”

“But I don’t want him to like the most expensive ones,” she protested as her mother stacked at first two boxes of diapers on the cart and, after hesitating for a moment, added a third.

“Now let’s pick out a wipe warmer.” The mother steered the cart, and her daughter shuffled along. A twinge of regret hit me that Nina couldn’t be like one of those moms.

I eyed a group of four pregnant women. One held a tiny outfit over her belly as if she could check the fit on her baby in utero. I missed Ellie. I couldn’t imagine having a husband to anticipate my child’s birth with, or a mom who would know what I needed better than I did. However, I had a friend who stayed by my side no matter what. I needed my BFF. Her bed rest wouldn’t go on forever, and before too long Ellie and I’d be shopping with our babies in tow. I focused on that happy thought.

I closed my eyes, lulled by the gliding rocker.

Sun warm on my upturned face… The glow of light penetrating my eyelids is riveting. I’m swinging fast, laughing hard.

“Higher, Momma, higher!” Steve squeals next to me. His stocky little-boy legs flail as he goes backward and forward, opposite of my forward and backward.

A firm push on my rump and I sail up, up, up. My feet reach for the sky; the pink Mary Janes I’d begged Daddy to buy me for the first day of kindergarten float above me. The white lace on my socks flutters around my ankles.

Then I fall back toward the earth. She laughs behind me, lilting waves of joy. I must see her, but when I try to turn in my swing she pushes me harder. I should say something.

“Watch me, Meg, watch me.” Steve leans back, dangerously far—he is flying. And then she moves between us, glides by. A glimpse of her profile, and I am watching her walk away. Her hair, so similar to ours; a veil of silky blond curls flows down her back. She waves without turning. I can’t slow the swing; I can’t get off. She’s at the end of the street and glances back as she turns the corner, but she is too far away. I can’t see her face. I twist back to Steve; his swing is empty. I am alone, anchored to my swing, fluctuating like a pendulum, moving but not going anywhere.

Alone. I am all alone.

The displacement of air startled me. I opened my eyes, the dream fading.

Theo rocked in the glider next to me, and for a flash I thought I had moved back in time to the day we shopped for the glider.

“When are you going to take better care of yourself?” Theo took my hand in his and squeezed. “I need to pick up one last thing for the baby’s room, and I find you back here sleeping.” He gave me a long, amused look, with wary eyes. Up front, Cortez flirted with the cashiers.

“You’re done?” We hadn’t talked about what we’d do when he finished the baby’s room. “Does this mean I get to see it now?”

“Not yet. I still have a few things to do.” Excitement radiated off of his body, and I savored the moment of normalcy. But disoriented from my nap, I was missing something.

The realization hit me, and I spoke in a mindless rush. “You’re leaving.”

“No,” he said, but his face fell. “I will guard everything within the limits of my post and quit my post only when properly relieved.”

“Theo…” I started to rise, but even with his crutches, he was faster, offering a hand.

“Meg, you’ve got to quit worrying about things before they happen.” He helped me to my feet and draped his arm across my shoulder. “We have an agreement.”

“I know. I want to talk about that.” After last night, I should take the gamble. I couldn’t let Theo leave without knowing my heart.

“There’s nothing to talk about. Hey, anyway, we got two days until your future becomes clearer.”

“You’re still going to join me?” I was surprised he remembered the ultrasound appointment and was counting down the days.

“I wouldn’t miss it for anything.” He placed his other hand on my belly. “I want to find out exactly who’s in there.”

Comfort. Theo always brought me comfort.

“Me, too,” I said. “I’m finally ready for this.”

“That’s my girl.”

“Are you coming home now?”

“No, we have things to do.” Theo pulled away from me. “Do you need something? You craving anything?”

My every craving began and ended with Theo. “No, I’m good.”

Theo leaned in and kissed me. “Do me a favor?”

“Sure.” He never asked me for anything.

“Try not to fall asleep when you’re out by yourself.” He tucked a lock of hair behind my ear. “You’re too trusting.”

“I trust you.”

“Yeah, and how’s that working for you?” Again with the sad eyes. “Come on, I’ll walk you to your car.”

On the way out the door, Theo called to Cortez. “Hey man, let’s hit it.”

“Yeah, yeah, I’ll be right out.” Cortez shot him a meaningful wink.

We crossed the parking lot to my car, and he took my keys and opened the door.

I didn’t want to leave without him. We had a distance between us I had yet to bridge. “I have to tell you I’m sorry,” I said, trying to close the gap. “I’m sorry I wore the ring.”

Theo shook his head, put his hand up to stop me. But I continued.

“I was thoughtless. I care about you, and I shouldn’t have used the engagement ring for security.”

“Don’t.” He took my hand, brought it to his mouth. “No worries.” He kissed my wrist.

I sat in the car waiting for him to say more.

“We’ll catch up later.” He shut the door, and again I found myself alone. In the silence of my car I realized we’d never acknowledged what had happened the night before. I wasn’t sure he remembered what he’d said.

Chapter Seventeen

I
rolled up my sweats, tiptoed across the wet kitchen floor, and filled a bowl with corn flakes. I sliced an overripe banana on top and snatched the near-empty quart of milk from the fridge, draining the carton, which only contained enough milk to half cover my cereal. Tears came with a rush. In the kitchen, with a bowl cradled in my hand, I ate my cereal and cried.

The front door opened. I choked back a sob and forced another bite.

Theo came into view.

“Watch out, the floor is wet.” I pointed with my spoon, eyes not meeting his. I continued with my corn flakes.

“You’re crying in your cereal.”

What could I say? He didn’t remember.

“We’re out of milk.” I swiped at my cheeks with the back of my hand between bites, but the tears kept coming.

“I’ll get more tomorrow.” He reached out and pulled a few tissues from the box, and walked over to me.

I turned my back to him and rinsed my bowl, put it in the dishwasher.

When I faced him, he dabbed my cheeks. “The house looks great. You’re nesting.”

I sniffed, went up on my toes for a kiss. He met me with forceful need. Wrapping me in his arms, his mouth took mine. Beer lingered on his breath, with a trace of something stronger. He swayed against me. I tried to pull back, but his hand moved up my spine, his strong fingers cupped the back of my neck, holding the kiss. A shock of pleasure rippled through me as the demand of his lips grew. He wanted me—that was unmistakable.

“No.” I stepped back, worked myself free from his embrace. “Not doing this again.” Pushing against him, I took in his hurt expression and felt a wave of victory. I waited for him to say something, anything, but he only looked away. I left him there, looking dejected, and walked slowly to my room. At the door, I glanced back at him, lingering a second longer, giving him the chance to speak, but he remained silent. I slammed the door as hard as I could, using both hands. The sound, a bang that echoed through the bones of the condo, reflected my frustration. And yet, the undertow of shame smacked into me. How wrong for me to think that hurting Theo would solve anything. Stripping off my grungy sweats, I climbed into the shower. Underneath the hot water I pulled myself together. I couldn’t pretend anymore. I was done denying I didn’t want more. The risk he’d leave was always there, but I decided I had to tell him how I felt. If only he hadn’t been drinking when he told me he loved me. Then I would’ve opened up to him. But it was time I stopped pushing him away.

I owed him an apology.

The kitchen was still lit up when I came back to make amends with Theo. He sat upright, his back to me. Only as I came around and called out his name did I realize he was asleep, head back, mouth open, snoring softly.

I put my hand on his arm, and he slumped toward me.

Finding my soft fleece throw, I covered him, kissed his cheek, and returned to my bed alone. As a peace offering, I left the door to my room opened wide. I hoped he’d wake up and accept my olive branch by joining me in bed.

The next morning I was jolted awake by someone pounding at the front door. I stumbled out of bed and out to the living room. Theo and the blanket I left covering him were both gone. I glared with contempt at the vacant sofa, as I passed by, not ready for another day of uncertainty.

My stomach bumped the door as I peered through the peephole. I gasped and yanked the door open.

“Dad!”

“Wow!” He put his hands on my shoulders, leaning in to kiss my cheek. “You look fantastic!” He walked in, arms spread wide. “I love what you did to the place.” He kept his eyes carefully diverted from my belly. Forever the realtor, he mentioned the updated light fixtures and the atmosphere created by the built-in bookshelves. “Your library is impressive.” Dad had always been amused I shared his father’s infatuation with books, and I’d always been amused the book obsession had skipped a generation.

“What are you doing here?” I peered out front, expecting Nina to waltz up and make her entrance.

“You can shut the door. I’m alone,” he said with the tone parents use when there is more news to follow.

I shut the door. “What’s going on?” I waited for the other shoe to drop.

Dad carried himself well, always a sharp dresser even when casual. Silver streaks infiltrated his thick, dark waves of hair. He slid his hands into the front pockets of his Levis and rocked back on his loafers. “Honey, I left Nina.”

Whoa. When I was a little girl I prayed that he would leave her. I was considerate enough to vocalize the plea in high school, and by college I’d accepted that my father was entitled to love my evil stepmother even though for the life of me, I could never figure out why.

“What are you talking about?” I couldn’t wrap my head around what he was saying. Dad was loyal to a fault.

He took a seat in the center of the walnut-hued Pottery Barn sofa, with arms outstretched across the twill cushion back.

“There’s nothing to talk about. I wanted to come home.”

“Dad, what’s going on?” I asked again, crossing my arms over my belly. I could tell he was holding something back. “This isn’t your home anymore. It’s the baby, isn’t it? Is that why you’re here without Nina?”

“You’re going to need help.” He shrugged. “I want to be here for this.”

“And Nina doesn’t. I can’t be the reason you left.”

“Don’t worry, honey. It’s not you.” He cleared his throat, leaned forward, and pressed the tips of his fingers together. “Look, I want to say she shouldn’t have acted the way she did when she found out. You surprised us. We thought the whole thing was a joke.”