Life Interrupted (19 page)

Ready to tease her and lighten my mood, I step into the kitchen and stop when Tripp turns his head and meets my gaze.  I’m vaguely aware of Georgie sitting at the counter with my mom, a Starbucks cup in front of
her, but even when she asks me something, I can’t look away from him.  His gaze is direct, unflinching, and after a brief moment of staring, he pushes away from the counter and takes my hand, turning so I follow him out of the kitchen and down the hall to my room without a word.

When he pulls me
inside, he closes the door and brings me against him before I can say anything.  His arms wrap around me and his lips brush against my forehead before he closes his eyes.  “I have some things to say to you, but I need to know how you are first.  Your mom said Gracie’s doing better, that she finally broke through the worst of it and is now sleeping it off.”  I nod my head against his shoulder.  “How are you? Are you okay? I was worried when I didn’t hear from you again.”

I muster up the energy to tilt my head back and look at him. 
“Didn’t you get my text?”

His eyes darken a little and
he shifts his grip on me until he’s holding me by the shoulders and staring directly at me.  “The one last night that said,
sorry, Gracie okay just fussy now, have fun and I’ll call you later
? That one?”  I nod.  He’s silent a second as he stares at me and I swear he’s counting.  When he speaks next, his voice is low and sends shivers all over me.  “Rachel, you’ve had a long night and because I can see that you’re almost asleep on your feet, I won’t yell at you.  But if you ever, and I do mean
ever
, send me a text and tell me to have fun when I know you’re scared shitless and overwhelmed, you won’t hear for a month after I’m done with you.”

“Tripp, I didn’t want you to worry.”

He releases one of my shoulders and puts his hand to my lips to stop me.  “I can’t have this conversation right now because no matter what your reasons, no matter what you thought I didn’t need, you were wrong.  You were wrong not to trust me to help you last night.  And you were wrong to shut me out and make me worry.”

He steps back and leaves me standing there, the breath hitching in my lungs as I work to process the waves of anger and hurt I can feel coming from him.  “I came over because I needed
to see you, and I needed to tell you that when you wake up I want to talk to you.  Will you call me?”

I nod, fatigue and emotions making it difficult to do anything else.

“Go to sleep, Rachel, and call me when you wake up.”

He turns and opens my bedroom door, walking out and closing it behind him before I can think to respond.  Since not thinking means I might be able to sleep, I do as he says and crawl into bed, willing away the panic that wants to climb up
and grab me as I wait for the sweet oblivion that sleep brings.

              When I wake up, a glance at the clock shows me it’s just past two.  Since the monitor is no longer on my nightstand, I assume my mom has taken it and is caring for Gracie.  Grateful, I stretch and climb out of bed, my body sore from the night of holding and rocking Gracie, from putting her down and picking her up over and over. 

             
Gracie’s door is open and her crib is empty.  Since I don’t hear screaming as I walk through the house to the kitchen and living room, I can only hope she’s at the recovery portion of the bug.  When I step into the kitchen which opens out into the family room, Gracie is snuggled on Georgie’s lap, her Lovey in her arms, her blanket over her as she watches Doc McStuffins.  I try not to be embarrassed or awkward as I smile at Georgie and sit down in the overstuffed chair across from them, but I know Tripp and I know Georgie.  What he doesn’t tell her, she instinctively knows or finds out, so I know there’s a good chance she knows that Tripp is angry with me. There’s an even better chance she knows why.

“Good morning,” she says.

              “More like good afternoon.  Thanks for watching Gracie.”

             
She waves that away and I open my arms as my little girl is even now twisting and climbing out of her lap, dragging Lovey and Blanky across the floor to fall into mine.  Georgie offers me some coffee and I nod, grateful, pressing my lips to Gracie’s forehead to check for warmth.  Although a little hot, she feels less clammy and definitely cooler than last night and I feel myself relax.  Since I’m a young mom, I can’t say for certain, but when your kid is sick, I don’t imagine it matters how old you are, it’s still fucking scary.

             
I take the coffee doctored with milk when Georgie hands it to me, smiling my thanks as I take the first few sips without even pulling the mug away from my lips.  As I drink, I think of my usual Sunday coffee with Tripp, how he always makes fun of me for refusing anything more than milk in my espresso as he orders some java-chip-should-be-a-cookie-but-we’ve-made-it-a-five-dollar-drink Frappuccino.  No matter how cold it is, or how early, he always orders some blended drink that has more chocolate and whip cream than it does actual coffee.  Whenever he tries to sway me, I stand firm.  I like cookies, and I like coffee.  I do not want them blended together and mashed into a cup like I’m some hundred year old corpse who can’t chew her food.

             
“Your mom had to go in and do some grading and then she has a meeting with some of her grad students.  She asked me to stay and watch you and Gracie so you weren’t alone.”

             
“Thanks, Georgie, I know you probably have better things to do on a Sunday.  We’re good now if you need to get home.”

             
She cocks her head at me and I can’t help but shrink a little.  “Rae, in all of the years you’ve known me, have I ever not wanted to help you? Have I ever not wanted to make your life easier, more enjoyable? Have I ever made you feel like you were a burden or a leech? Have any of us who love you?”

             
My eyes go wide and I shake my head.  “Of course not.”

“
Good, then you can explain to me why you continue to feel like one whenever someone offers to help.”

             
“Georgie, I didn’t mean to sound ungrateful, I just don’t want to be a burden on you.  I don’t ever want you to think I expect you to take care of me and Gracie, to…”

             
She waits for me to finish, but I’ve lost the words as she stares at me with those eyes so like Tripp’s, patient as they wait for me to explain why it’s so hard to accept the help she’s offering.

             
“I don’t ever want you to think I can’t do this myself, that I need help or expect people to stop their lives and help me live mine.”

             
“Of course you need, help, Rae, you’re a mom.  Is that why you didn’t let Tripp come over last night? Because you were afraid he would think you expected him to fix it and it would scare him?”  I hesitate too long before answering and it gives me away.  Her eyes go hard, her voice dropping several degrees in temperature.  “Or did you not let him come over because you were afraid I would think that?”

             
I swallow and look down at Gracie who’s now dozing off on my lap.  Setting my coffee down, I shift her and stand.  “I need to put her in her crib.”  I walk away without another word, taking time tucking Gracie in when she fusses a little, wrapping her Lovey in her arms, making sure she has a book for when she wakes up.  I know I’m stalling as I go into my room and throw on jeans and t-shirt, but I can’t face her in bright orange boxers with black letters on them.

             
She’s in the kitchen waiting for me, and before she can speak, I start.  “You and Jack have never made me feel like I owed you anything, and you’ve never made me feel like you thought less of me.  But I wasn’t dating your son when I got pregnant, and I wasn’t dating him when I gave birth to Gracie, either.  He was safe.  Whatever we are now, I don’t want you to think that I expect him to give up his future because mine is limited.  Different,” I correct, and take a breath.  “Tripp has a lot to look forward to.  He can go to a JuCo or a DII school and play basketball, maybe even move up to DI.  Why would you want him to be attached to someone who’s probably not leaving her hometown, someone who already has a whole plate of responsibility?”

             
When I finish, her expression is thoughtful, her eyes steady on mine while her hands grip the counter.  “If you hadn’t been coming from such a loving place, however deluded, I’d put you over my knee and spank you for thinking that little of me.”

             
I can’t help but smile at the image.  “Georgie, I have almost seven inches on you.”

             
Her eyes go to slits and I’m reminded just why her boys fall in line when she tells them to.  “I have my ways.  Dear Lord, child, do you really think I don’t want my own son to be happy? That I’m so blind I don’t know that it’s you who makes him happy?”

             
I let out a breath and lean against the counter next to her, crossing my arms over my chest.  “I’m sorry.”

             
“So am I.  Rachel,” she says and I smile, knowing she’s used the name to remind me she knows her son and who I am to him.  “When you two had your falling out two years ago, I knew you were it for Tripp.”

My eyes slide to hers. 
“I always wondered if you knew something had happened.  What gave us away?”

She raises her eyebrows at me.  “Please, Tripp’s like the daughter I never had when it comes to being emotional.  Tanner disappears when he’s dealing with something, Griff shuts down and keeps it in the vault, and Jackson Herbert the
third walks around with his head up his ass until I badger it out of him, for which he is later grateful.”

“I’m sure,” I say and smile.

“The point is, you two have wanted to be with each other since you were young and now that you are, you have to learn to trust that the other person knows what’s best for them.  Don’t push him away when he wants to be here for you, and don’t think you’re holding him back from his future.  He needs to help so you know he’s here for everything, not just for fun.”

“I don’t want him to regret choosing me,” I tell her and feel like an idiot. 

“Oh, sweet girl, how stupid you can be.”  I wince but there’s no sting in her words and she rubs my shoulder.  “The only thing either of you will regret is if you mess this up again because you’re both too stubborn to use your words.  So ready to throw fists and jump into bed—” I choke and she just smiles and slams her fist into my back to help me release air—“but you’re so afraid to speak to each other.  Talk,” she says and grabs my shoulders to pull me into a hug.  “Tell him what you want, let him tell you what he wants, and believe what he says, okay?”

             
I nod, trying to gain back my composure after her comment.  “Just so you know, we don’t, uh, always, you know, and we use, um, a…we’re safe.”  I press my lips together, wondering what possessed me to just explain to my boyfriend’s mother that we don’t always UH and that when we do, we use a condom. 

             
She pats my shoulder.  “It’s okay, Rae, he’s my third, you can say sex.  And you better be safe, I’m not ready for another grandbaby for at least five years.”

~

              Georgie stays a while longer so I can take a shower.  Before she leaves, she kisses Gracie and hugs me hard, pulling back far enough to cup my face in her hands.  “Trust him—he’s not perfect, but you can trust him.”

             
I know she’s right.  Tripp not’s perfect, that’s probably why I love him so much.  He’s honest, even if he is a jackass sometimes.  And since I’m not exactly exempt from being an idiot these days (or ever), I acknowledge that it’s not necessarily Tripp I don’t trust, more, the idea of him.  I’m good by myself, always have been, but being with Tripp has shown me just how much I’m better with him, and because of that, I reverted to my flight instinct, which kind of makes him right, which is more irritating than the fact that I’m the one in the wrong.

Thinking about it, I spend the rest of the day snuggling with Gracie, rocking her when she gets a little fussy because she wants to play and she’s still too tired, coloring pictures with her until her hands are as covered in marker as her Elmo paper.  She bathes and we eat dinner,
and by six she’s ready for her stories and bedtime.  Just as I finish reading
Moo Baa La
for the third and final time, I hear the front door open.  Kissing Gracie, I lay her in her crib with Lovey and
Barnyard Dance
for company before going out to say hello to my mom.

             
She’s sitting at the counter with her feet propped on the stool next to her, eating cold pasta straight from the Tupperware container.  I stand where I am and study her for a second, wondering if she’s the reason I’ve always worked to be so tough.  I mean, here she is, a woman whose husband walked out and didn’t even have the decency to be such an asshole that she could badmouth him and be justified in it, and instead of breaking, she stood.  She protected what was hers and still does, and never, ever did she ask us to hold her up.  I don’t know if I’ve ever known strength greater than this. 

Walking the rest of the way into the kitchen, I smile when she moves her feet and lets me sit next to her before she props them on my lap.  She offers me the second fork she brought and for a minute we sit in contented silence, twirling cold pasta on our forks
.

“How was work?”

She nods, setting down her fork and resting her hands on her still flat belly.  “Good, but I won’t be sad to see summer come.  I can’t wait to pass these freshman on.”

I smile because it’s a comment she makes every year, along with forcing me to promise her I’ll never walk to class in my morning after clothes, smelling of a bar. 

              “How’s Gracie?”

             
“Better, a little fussy but I think it’s mostly because she’s tired.  I called Dr. Pat and he said it sounds like she’s on the mend but to keep an eye on her fluids.”

             
“Do you want me to stay home from work with her tomorrow? I can ask Edward to take my lectures.”

             
It’s not just the fact that she offers, but more the fact that she would do it if I said yes.  That she loves me enough to take a day off and spend it with her sick granddaughter so I could go to school, get the break I need and be a kid.  All at once I’m struck by just how much I have—in her, in Stacy and G, in Tripp—and I wonder how people without someone like my mother make it all alone.  Like she did.

             
“Mom, when Dad left did it hurt?” She pauses with her wineglass halfway to her mouth and her eyebrow wings up. 

“If you’re asking did I hurt him, then no, but I thought about it seriously for a while.
  Your violent streak comes from me.”

I laugh.  “I know
, and I know that you joke about Dad now, that we tease him and laugh behind his back, but when he first walked away, left you and me and Stacy, did it hurt?”

             
She sets her fork back in the plastic container and leans forward, her eyes still on me as if assessing what I’m really asking.  I wait because I’m not really sure what I’m asking or why I need the answer.  After a moment, she nods her head and looks down at her hands, linking and unlinking her fingers.

             
“At first, all I could think about was you and Stacy.  I didn’t have time to know if it hurt or if I was relieved, if I was scared, because all I could really focus on was whether or not you and Stacy hurt, whether or not my girls were scared or relieved or anything else.  You know how that is now, thinking of someone else before you think of yourself.  It’s the blessing and the curse of being a parent; you’re too busy to think of yourself, so for a while you can ignore anything that might hurt.  When you finally do have the time, you realize you aren’t sure what you are or who you are, but you do know that you have to be enough for them now, and life gets exponentially more scary and wonderful at the same time.”