Cancelled (23 page)

“Alright, I picked out my part. What's the rest of the name, Mommy?”

Kellie's eyes bulged out of her head for a moment before she relaxed and smiled.

“No one's called me that, yet.” The bucket styled seat in his car bunched up her T-shirt, allowing her seven month belly to poke out of the bottom. Furtively, she tugged her T-shirt back down under the seat belt.

Johnathan frowned at seeing her discomfort and wrongly blamed the shirt. “You know, if you need some maternity clothes, you can use some of the money in the account. I don't want you to feel ashamed or anything.”

“You mean I'm too fat to wear this shirt and should only wear those solid colored tunics they sell for women in my condition?”

“Too fat? You're not fat, you're pregnant! That shirt isn't even designed for a pregnant body shape.” Johnathan pointed out the logical fallacies in her previous statement.

“I know what you meant. I know I look terrible.”

Johnathan kept his eyes on the road, feeling the strange sense of déjà vu. Simms wasn't kidding about hormones.

“I think you look beautiful.” Johnathan turned his head to make eye contact with Kellie.

“Thank you.” Kellie whispered.

Serenaded by a chorus of crickets, Johnathan walked Kellie to her parents' front door. She leaned in and gave him a hug as close as her large belly would allow her.

“Charlotte Grace Michaels. That's her name.” Kellie smiled and yanked the storm open with a loud squawk.

“I think that's a perfect name.” He called out to her as she remained visible in the top window of the thin, metal door. He gave a quick wave before focusing on a green glow coming from his hand. Anna was calling.

Lifting the phone to his ear, he interrupted her greeting.

“I'm on my way to your house. I want to see Dad's will.”

A royal blue oriental runner muffled Johnathan's steps into the ornate living room of Anna Michaels' town home. A matching perpetual clock to the one in Alex's office chimed the late hour with ten bells.

Anna sat curled up in the overstuffed recliner that had been a favorite of his father. A top-shelf bottle of bourbon, a stack of papers, and a tumbler with minor remains of a tawny liquid sat next to her on a dark consort table.

Johnathan dragged the small Queen Anne styled chair from Anna's writing desk over. He unbuttoned his collar and walked into the kitchen to find his own glass. After puring more for both of them, he set the oak-barrel aged liquor back on the table. He gulped the drink down greedily as gave the papers a cursory read.

“He left me nothing but the car?”

Anna sniffed, lifting her newly filled glass, and nodded. She swallowed. “I made you an inheritance out of my own money. I couldn't tell you why there wasn't any money from the estate for you.”

“But why not? Didn't I deserve to know who my sister is?”

Anna shook her head. “We never did DNA.” She tucked her legs further underneath her, gripping them with her free hand and holding her drink in the other. “It's not right, okay? I'm not saying it is, but you have to understand...”

Anna placed her drink back down and waited for Johnathan to lean back in his chair before continuing.

“Every week my doctor shot me full of hormones, trying to help me get pregnant. We'd been married for five years with no baby. My family didn't understand, kept pressuring me to give up my career and put my marriage first. They had no idea what I was putting myself through!” Anna shifted her posture, pushing herself up slightly. “The summer of '91, Daniel had to fly you home. He stayed for a few days. I was going crazy. Strict diet, hormones, supplements. It was a bad place for both of us.” Anna took another sip of the liquid courage.

“Were you guys separating?”

“No, nothing like that. Just another little spat in a long line of them.”

Johnathan nodded, feeling his own situation matched a little too well.

“When he came home, he was a different man. Suddenly wanting to go to appointments with me, listening to me complain about every pregnant woman I came across...”

“I'm sure it was hard on you, Anna. Alex and I are barely holding on as it is, and we're not even married, yet. You know she wants to try for a kid ourselves right away?” Johnathan stared down at his drink before finishing off the last swallow. He casually set the glass on the table where it rattled a split-second before settling.

“I can't tell you how hard it is on her. But believe me, son, it's hard.” Anna stopped for a moment, staring at the fireplace behind Johnathan. “I don't know how I made it, to tell you the truth. When we visited you for Christmas that year, Nancy was six months gone. At first, I was only jealous that she could get pregnant, and not me. It wasn't until a month later my mind began adding up the months.”

“And Dad never told you Jenn was his?”

Anna waved her hand. “I never gave him the chance. One day, around the time we agreed it was time to stop the fertility treatments because of cost and failure, I snapped. I told him if Nancy's baby was his, he could pack his bags and I would call a divorce attorney. And I would have cleaned him out, too, buddy. A few months later, a letter came from Nancy's lawyer wanting an increase in child support for you based on the recent sale of your Dad's first software company. He didn't fight it. We never spoke about it again.”

Anna's face crumpled into a sob. “It's all my fault.”

Johnathan's own anger and confusion bashed around in his mind, but seeing Anna fall apart was a first. He wondered if she had ever truly admitted her guilt before.

Setting the half-gone bottle of bourbon back in the liquor cabinet, he led a still sobbing Anna in between repeatings of “I'm sorry. I'm so sorry.” to her bedroom.

“I'm going to crash in the guest room. I'm here if you need me.”

Anna nodded and closed her door. Johnathan found his way to the familiar guest room and collapsed on the bed. Lying on his left side, he finally cried for Jennifer. For the little girl who never had her father. He could see his own daughter as a young Jenn, wondering where her Daddy was on the weekends. A few of the tears were for Anna, understanding now where parts of Alex's anger and frustration came from.

The tears quickly ceased when he thought about his Dad. The man could have tried, he could have explained to Anna, or at least confessed before he died. Johnathan wasn't in a logical mood to consider that Daniel Michaels didn't choose to die in a car accident, and Jenn was only fourteen at the time.

Johnathan rolled himself off the bed and marched back downstairs. He only gave the will a glance earlier; he wanted to read every word of his father's will. He had to understand.

Finding the stack of papers on the table where she left them he walked three steps before stopping. On the other side of the room rested the antique cherry liquor cabinet. Flicking the half-moon closure to a vertical position, he snatched the bottle of bourbon. His eyes rested on his glass on the table, but he smiled and left it alone. With the will and spirits in hand, Johnathan finally retired for the evening.

Johnathan slept through the morning, groggily awakening near noon. A note on the nightstand read that Anna left for a hair appointment. Not even making the bed, he grabbed his keys and hit the road back home. Losing half of the weekend to his personal life wasn't getting him back on track with the Hedis project.

Showered and fed, Johnathan blasted serious hard rock with rapid fire drum beats. In three hours, he jammed through the slew of reports and paperwork left on the Claw for the prototype production. Zach's accident from yesterday weighed on his mind, but he wasn't sure if the company was bound to disclose an internal incident. He needed the original scope of work. Before going into the actual office, he counted on Alex to keep a copy in the home office.

Using the key to her filing cabinet from her dresser, he popped open the fire-resistant cabinet. The top drawer was slightly bent on the left side, making it a stubborn mule to open. The scope lay near the back of a the file folder marked HEDIS.

Contractor is responsible for reporting results of all testing required by company, in such a manner as to be satisfactory to the company, not the contractor.

Leaning back in the wooden office chair, Johnathan pushed and twisted to find a comfortable spot. Unsuccessful, he zoomed the wheeled chair back over to the desk with the file in hand and opted to stand. Did the language mean they only had to report results of testing required by Hedis? With that interpretation, the testing on Friday was internal, not required by the addendum listing the required tests.

For now, he would leave the accident out. Replacing the HEDIS file, another file slipped out of the rails and fell to the bottom, pushing a group of files higher than the clearance of the drawer. He lifted the other files to get to the wayward folder, involuntarily reading its label: ARTICLE 19.

A vague memory of discussing this with Alex months ago piqued his curiosity. He flipped it open expecting legal mumblings about the company charter. On top, in Alex's overly neat handwriting, were half a dozen of light blue Post-its giving practical advice about voting out someone in the company. But who? She didn't list a name anywhere.

Failure to act in the interest of the company. Failure to prevent personal matters from interfering with work.

Each note gave a reason to vote Eric out of the company! Johnathan slammed the folder shut and hastily tossed the files back into the filing cabinet. Why would she go behind his back to draft papers against Eric?

Leaving the rest of his work for Sunday, Johnathan zoned out to watch documentaries on the American Revolution with a six-pack of Sam Adams. It felt appropriately patriotic. Occasional firecrackers and other early fireworks interrupted his quiet evening. He had no idea when he finally passed out, stretching his long legs over opposite edge of the couch into free space.

“Johnathan? Come on. Wake up. I'm home.” A small hand jostled his left shoulder. Johnathan moaned and tried to roll over landing him on a very hard wooden floor with a crash of breaking ceramics. Suddenly very alert, he frantically searched his surroundings.

“Hold still.” Alexis leaned down to untangle Johnathan's legs from the lamp cord attached to the shattered green base. “I'll get the broom.”

Johnathan scrambled back up on the couch, realizing it was still dark outside. What time was it? He yawned and read his watch. 5:30 AM. Bones in his neck and upper back cracked as he tightened his shoulder blades. Damn uncomfortable couch.

“What happened? You're supposed to be in New Jersey,” he said.

Alex shrugged, gingerly picking up the larger pieces of lamp and placing them in the dust pan. “I couldn't sleep. My parents and I aren't really seeing eye-to-eye, so I left. Four hours later, a bunch of stops for coffee, here I am.”

Johnathan reached out for his fiancée, waving off the mess. “Later.” He gave her the strongest embrace her small frame could take, ending with a kiss while holding her face in his hands. “I'm sorry. About everything. You shouldn't have to fight with your parents over me.”

“But I'm not. I'm fighting with my parents over me!” Alex protested. She shook her head and shifted back. “How can I make a vow to love you for better or for worse and bolt when the worst comes before the wedding? I don't want a life without you, Johnathan.”

He turned his face from her and considered her words. He couldn't argue with the logic, but didn't know what to say to agree with her, without setting her off. “I can see your point.”

“They're just conservative. In their world, babies aren't born out of wedlock. 'You having a baby, you get married.'” she mimicked her father's Spanish accent.

“So I should marry Kellie?” he asked, mockingly. Alexis made a face of horror, her eyebrows nearly making a 45° angle. “Relax, I'm kidding. I don't want to marry anyone else on this earth. But you.” He rubbed the sides of her arms as she gave a shiver, though the room wasn't cold.

“Me either. And don't worry, they'll come around. I'll make them.” Alex ran her hand along the inside of Johnathan's thigh as she leaned in for another kiss. The movement incited his growing need for intimacy, but he stopped her hand.

“We're running out of do overs.”

“By the time we're married, we'll be out of fights to have.” Her face brightened and she gave him a large smile.

“That's just it, I don't want to fight anymore,” he said. “We need to stop going for each other's jugular. Me included.”

Alex rolled her eyes.

“I'm serious.”

She stood up from the couch and took her shirt off, revealing a lacy bra in pale pink. “Do you want to make up or not?”

Johnathan picked up her shirt from the floor and carried it with him up the stairs. He wasn't going to turn down make up sex. There was such a thing as too much talking.

15

J
ohnathan blew off working on Sunday to treat Alex to a Nationals game. He pushed everything to do with the baby and his stepmother out of his mind.

“Come on, Jefferson!! Woooooooooo. GO JEFFERSON!” Alexis leaned over the metal railing separating their seating section from the next to cheer on the racing President of her choice. The large inflatable versions of Thomas Jefferson, George Washington, Theodore Roosevelt, and Abraham Lincoln hobbled down the line from first base towards home plate.

“AND OUR WINNER AND STILL CHAMPION: AAAAAAAABE LINCOLNNNNNN! MAYBE NEXT TIME, TEDDY.”

“Boo!” Alexis plopped in the seat next to Johnathan and grabbed the popcorn from his hands. Setting her feet up on the railing, Johnathan admired his beautiful fiancée in a Nationals T-shirt, jogging shorts, and her hair pulled back into a poofy ponytail. The game was already in the bottom of the fourth. Johnathan checked his watch.

“You know, I think they have it rigged. Why would they cast an Olympic runner for Abe Lincoln and let some slow poke run for Jefferson?” Alex took her UVA loyalty a tad too far.

“I doubt it's rigged.”

“It is! Why do you think Teddy never wins? Huh?”