A Life More Complete (30 page)

“I’m in Chicago. I’ll be home
tomorrow afternoon. Why don’t we talk about it then? I’ll come by after I get
in.” His voice is stern, but not as harsh as the beginning of our conversation.

“I’m sorry,” I say out of habit. What
I can’t tell him is that I want him here with me right now. I need him to hold
me in his arms and tell me everything is going to okay.

“It’s okay, Krissy. It’s going to be fine.
Thank you for calling. I’ll text you before I come tomorrow.”

The small bit of reassurance I get
from him makes my stomach tense and the tears begin to flow again. And all I
can think is maybe he does care.

“Okay. I’m not going to work
tomorrow, so I’ll be home all day. Just come by.” I don’t want to hang up. Just
hearing his voice and the small inkling of support makes me want to beg him to
take me back.

“I’ll see you tomorrow. Bye, Krissy.”
He hangs up before I can say another word. I curl up in my bed and cry myself
to sleep. The combination of guilt, mixed with missing him and the struggle to
find happiness amongst the mess of sadness is hard to bear, in addition to my
hormone ravaged body that is still craving that damn Baconator or at least a
Double-Double with cheese.

I’m up with the dawn the next day and
even in the morning light my decision hasn’t wavered. After I lay in bed
watching TV for half the morning, I finally decide to shower. Opening the linen
closet in my bathroom I pull out two clean towels and set them on the toilet. My
hand digs under the pile of sheets to reveal the three pregnancy tests from
yesterday. The day felt so surreal that I feel the need to verify that my day
wasn’t just a dream. But there are the results right in front of my face,
almost appearing darker than I remember. I smile and chuckle a little as I
stuff the bag back in its hiding place. I climb in the shower and let the hot
water rush over me. I look down at my stomach, which to me already appears
rounder. Putting my hands on it I can’t help but be overcome with emotion. “Peanut,
we’re in this for the long haul. You’re stuck with me for the next eighteen
plus years and there won’t be a day that goes by that I won’t love you,” I say
knowing that I mean every word.

My phone chimes and it’s Rachel
telling me to meet her around 11:30 and where. I look at the clock and throw on
a pair of yoga pants and a t-shirt, whip my hair into a messy bun as I head out
the door. I quickly text Tyler to let him know I will be having lunch with my
sister and that he should text me before he comes. He responds instantly and my
heart pounds in my chest. Although all it says is “ok”.

Rachel is waiting for me when I
arrive. Sitting quietly in the corner of the booth looking at the menu, she
smiles when our eyes meet. I slide in across from her and she leans back into
the corner again.

“So,” she says.

“So, what?”

“You’re really knocked up?” I’m not
sure why she has to be so crass.

“Yes Rachel.” It’s hard to hide the
annoyance in my voice. “Aren’t you excited to be an aunt?”

“I guess I am. It’ll be pretty cool. Are
you going to find out what you’re having?” Rachel asks, her eyes glowing with
excitement now.

“Um, I already know what I’m having.
It’s a baby.” I answer mocking her. “But really, I don’t think I’m going to
find out. There are very few surprises left in the world and I think I want to
leave this one until the end.”

“You’re no fun. But I guess that will
make the phone call I get when you have the baby all the better. Nowadays people
know what they’re having, they pick out a name and by the time you read it on
Facebook or get that text that they’ve had their baby, it’s not all that
exciting.”

“I agree.” I pause for a minute
taking in her words about me calling her when the baby arrives. “Rach, I’d
really like it if you are with me when I have the baby. If Tyler decides he
wants no part of this I don’t think I can do it alone. It would mean the world
to me to have you there.”

Rachel cocks her head to the side, “I
wouldn’t miss it.” Tears form in her eyes and just looking at her makes me cry.
“I’m never having kids. Paul and I have talked about it and we both agree. I
can’t do it and I think you’re so brave to go through with this even after our
fucked up childhood.”

“Thanks. It’s funny, because even as
a kid I knew I wanted to be a mom. I guess I’m off to a pretty shitty start,
but I need a chance to do things my way, even if it’s alone.”

“Have you talked to Tyler?” Rachel
asks as she downs her mojito making me just slightly jealous of her ability to
drink.

“Yeah. It wasn’t as bad as it could
have been. He’s in Chicago, but he’ll be in this afternoon. He’s coming by so
we can talk.”

“Do you want him back?”

“I think I do. I need to try to make
it work even if it’s just for the baby. If it doesn’t play out that way, I’m
hoping he at least wants to be part of the baby’s life. I think that’s the part
that I’m struggling with the most. It kills me to think that I might be alone
and that one day I’ll have to explain why to my baby.” I start to cry again.

“You will never be alone, Krissy. If
Tyler chooses to walk away then that’s his loss. That baby will want for
nothing. You’ll always have me and Maizey. And what about Gia and David? They
would never allow you to feel like you were alone. Have you given any thought
to telling Ben?”

When I hear his name it’s like
someone has kicked me in the stomach. I didn’t even think about having to tell
Ben and really I don’t have to. It doesn’t concern him. Rachel raises her
eyebrows, waiting for a response.

“I know I’m not alone. You remember
what it felt like to know our dad and mom really could have cared less about
us. It’s hard to overcome that.”

“You’re avoiding my question about
Ben.”

“I know. I don’t know what I’d say to
him. ‘Hey Ben. Remember me? Your ex-girlfriend who loved you but couldn’t
commit? I’m pregnant by another guy.’ Sound about right to you, Rach?”

“Well, when you put it that way...”
she trails off. “You still love him, don’t you?”

“Yes. But that part of my life is
over. Majorly over now. Who wants to date a girl who’s pregnant by another man?”
I stare at her, but she says nothing. “I need another piece of cheesecake.”

Rachel throws her hand up in the air
to signal the waitress.

Just as I’m pulling in the driveway
from my lunch with Rachel a text from Tyler comes.
           

Tyler: You home? I’m 10 minutes away.
 

Me: Yep.

I pace my house for what seems like
hours. I can’t seem to settle down. My nerves are fried and my body will not
stop perspiring. I’m sweating from parts of my body that I didn’t even know
could sweat. I race into the bathroom and wash my face. I try to sit on the
couch, but the seconds tick by so slowly that I feel like I just might scream. When
he finally knocks on my door I can’t open it fast enough.

He is standing in the doorway with
his eyes cast down and his hands in his pockets. I step aside to let him enter.
Neither of us says a word until the door closes behind us.

“God, I’ve missed you so much,” he
says pulling me into his arms. “I’m so sorry. Please let me make this right.” He
buries his face in my neck. If I had any intention of remaining stoic all bets
are off now. His vulnerability is shocking and when he drops to his knees and
cradles my stomach with his hands I realize there’s no turning back.

“Take me back,” he says.

I can’t even speak. It’s like a
dream, the kind where you scream but no sound comes out, where you try to run
but your legs won’t move. I can see his mouth moving but the words are falling
on deaf ears. I’m in a state of shock. My expectation of Tyler’s reaction was set
so low that his actual reaction knocks the wind out of me.

“This has been the worst four weeks
of my life.” His honesty alarms me and I wish I could say the same thing. For
the last four weeks I’ve felt freer and calmer than I had since Tyler walked
back into my life. My anxiety and OCD had diminished without his constant
badgering and judgment. Even with all the positives that recently began
occurring I feel the need to welcome him back and make everything whole again. “I’m
so sorry for the way I treated you. I want desperately to work this out,” he
says pulling me against his chest once again.

“Ty, I’m all for trying to work this
out for the sake of the baby, but things need to change. You can’t constantly
be telling me what to do and you especially can’t continue to say things to me
that you damn well know are rude and disrespectful.”

He stares at me just long enough for
me to begin to question everything that came from my mouth. Every moment with
him from the time we met has been a roller coaster ride. Yet, despite the
turmoil and the tumultuousness of the relationship, I love him.

“You can’t speak to me as if I am an
errant child who’s not obeying. It’s embarrassing and demeaning. If we are
going to make this work, we need to make some changes.” Once again my words are
firm, but his response is still blank. “Tyler? Did you really think you were
going to come here and tell me you miss me and I was going to cave? Four weeks
is a long time, enough time for me to realize you treated me like shit all over
again.” I pause waiting for him to respond. I want to scream at him as he stares
at me with a dumb look on his face. “What the fuck Tyler? Did you have a stroke?
Say something.”

I begin to walk away as he grabs my
wrist yanking me back over to him. “I don’t know what to say. Everything you
said is true. I can’t lose you and the baby. I need you both. I’ll do whatever
I need to do to make you stay.”

“Well that’s good because we’re a
package deal. Two for the price of one. Are you in?” He smiles at my comment
and I feel my heart begin to beat rapidly.

“Yes. I’m in. That is if you can
tolerate me. I hear I can be a pain in the ass.”

We make our way over to the couch and
I ask him if he wants to see the pregnancy tests. I return from the bedroom
with the Ziplock bag and he takes it from my hand.

“Well, they’re definitely positive. All
three. Three? Really? Seems a bit over the top even for you,” he says jokingly.

“I had to be certain. I was certain I
was not. We’d been careful, but I guess not careful enough.” I hesitate and
then tell him just how deep my attention to detail really goes. “I actually
called the condom company after the third positive test. I’m pretty sure the
girl who answered is still cowering in the corner. I laid into her on the
effectiveness of the product that I so aptly claimed she played a part in
creating. Oh, that poor girl. She really got an earful from me about the
eighty-five percent effectiveness rating.”

 
Tyler laughs, but it’s forced. There’s
something he’s not telling me and I know for certain when he looks away
suddenly. “Tyler?”

He takes a deep breath and begins to
talk just to fill the silence. Ironic, right?

“I knew you were pregnant when you
called me. That’s why I called you back right away.” I’m confused. He can sense
that and continues without waiting for my response. “Remember your sister’s
wedding?” he asks and I nod. “We were both drunk and well, you know.” Did he
honestly think that was a suitable explanation for how I ended up pregnant? Although
I know what he’s eluding at I expect more detail than his vague answer. I stare
at him, my eyes wide and questioning hoping he continues with his admission. He
says nothing more.

“I know what? That we had sex without
a condom? I don’t even remember having sex with you that night.”

“Obviously that’s what happened. It
was the only time, so the good news is we know the exact date of conception,”
he says trying to make light of the situation.

I don’t even bother to argue due to
the finality of it. I’m pregnant and debating the right and wrong of it seems
like at moot point.

“I know. But your life is about to
change. You sure you’re ready?” He takes a deep breath and nods his head. I
climb into his lap. “I hope the baby is a boy, because if it’s a girl she doesn’t
stand a chance. With a father like you, shit, she’s in trouble. Can you say,
overprotective? I fear for her first boyfriend.”

“I hope it’s a girl and I hope she
looks just like you,” he says as he leans in for a kiss. “I love you,” Tyler
says. He puts his hands on my belly and I start to cry. I can’t even begin to
understand why I’m crying. This is exactly the outcome I was hoping for yet I
can’t get past the feeling that something could still go wrong. He strokes my
hair and shushes into my ear, but like always it makes me cry harder.

“Will you please stop crying? You’re
killing me. From now on, no more crying.” He’s firm in his words and I pull
myself together. We fall asleep talking about baby names. My evening is
complete and as my eyes grow heavy I pray that everything falls into place.

One week later Tyler and I find ourselves
in my OB’s exam room with me wearing a paper gown. His leg is bouncing up and
down nervously as he sits across from me in a straight-backed chair. He checks
his phone far too many times, scratches his neck and wipes his hands down his
pants at least three times in the last five minutes.