Reason Enough (2 page)

In the end, I swallowed the pill. I also took the last dose of antibiotics, because even though my infected finger had cleared up days ago, the instructions on the pill bottle had said to finish the medication. I wasn’t then and doubt I ever will be the sort of woman to throw caution to the wind and ignore even something as simple as a doctor’s prescription.

I thought about it, though, as I slipped my nightgown over bare skin and pulled back the blankets to get into bed beside my husband. He’d been reading a paperback novel with a lurid cover, but now his chin had dropped to his chest. The series of small, puffing breaths that always announced his slip into sleep had begun. His glasses had slipped to the end of his nose.

He woke when I removed the narrow wire frames and set them on the nightstand. His breath gusted hot against my chest and his arms went around me.

“What a nice view,” he murmured into my cleavage.

It had been more than a week since we’d made love in any traditional fashion, if you could call whatever love we’d ever made traditional. It was the longest I’d gone without him inside me since we’d been married. For a couple who fucked more often than we exercised, this had been an eye-opener.

Dan looked pleased when I straddled him, and even more so when I undid the row of tiny pearl buttons at the front of my gown. His hands slid up my sides to cup my bare breasts and push them together. I shivered when his tongue flickered out to taste me. My pulse instantly sped up.

He nuzzled his face against my skin, then used his mouth to pull gently on my nipples. One, the other, then back to the first. Underneath me, nestled along my cunt and ass, his cock got hard. The soft flannel of his pajama bottoms rubbed my bare skin. I wanted to rock my body against it, but held still.

“Take this off.” He didn’t wait for me to comply, but lifted my nightgown over my hips as I tugged it over my head.

The tips of my breasts brushed his bare chest as I leaned forward to kiss him. His lips parted at once. Greedy. Hungry. I kissed him hard and threaded my fingers through his hair. I tipped his head back to gain access to his throat, where I nipped and sucked until he groaned and his cock pulsed beneath me.

I was naked, and Dan was still partially dressed, but I felt no disadvantage. If there was power being played, I was the one in control. If I’d had any ideas about drawing this out, they fled when his hand slipped between us and his thumb settled on my clit. It wasn’t that I hadn’t had any orgasms in the past ten days, but I hadn’t had any with Dan inside me, and I could no longer stand to wait.

He made the noise I loved when I lifted myself to grasp his cock and guide myself onto it. I was already so slick with wanting there was no resistance when I slid all the way down. His eyes closed for a second as he arched to push himself deeper.

We sat that way without moving, our breath coming faster. My heart had started to pound. His thumb pressed again on my clit and a spasm of pleasure rocked me. I moaned.

His eyes opened. “Fuck, Elle, I love that sound.”

I laughed and moved on him; the laugh stuttered into a groan as he made small circles on my clitoris. He knew just how to touch me. I sat up, my hands on his chest for support, and rocked on his prick.

We took our time. In this position he couldn’t thrust too hard, too fast or too deep. I could set the pace, but I had to do the work, too, and with my clit pressing his thumb every time I moved, I was content to go slow.

If marriage had made any sort of change in our lovemaking it was that we did it more often in the dark now. In bed, the way I imagined most “normal” couples did. I hadn’t turned off the bedside lamp, though, and I was glad for the light to show me Dan’s face. I loved the way his eyes crinkled at the corners, and the beads of sweat that formed at his hairline and turned his sandy hair the color of wet sand. I loved the way his blue-green eyes darkened as his pupils dilated with arousal.

I loved everything about this man, not just each piece but how they all fit to make the whole of him. I’d bound my life with his and never regretted it. So why, then, did I fear so much sharing one more piece of myself?

I wanted him inside me harder, faster, deeper. I leaned forward to kiss him and he pumped upward. I no longer needed the help of his hand. My clit rubbed his belly as he thrust, and I cried out into his mouth as I started to come. My cunt clenched on his erection and he grunted. His hands gripped my sides, sliding on my sweat-slick skin. I tasted salt on his mouth.

I wanted to close my eyes when I came, but I kept them open so I could see his face. His mouth tightened. He thrust so hard he moved my entire body. He blinked, his gaze going far away, and knowing he was so close sent another thrill of climax jittering through me.

“Elle,” Dan panted. “Is it okay?”

“It’s great, baby,” I murmured. Sex makes even the silliest sentences all right.

He shook his head a little, still thrusting. “No, baby. Is it okay?”

He hadn’t meant my orgasm. He’d meant his. I hadn’t made him use a condom, and I still had the antibiotics in my system. I loved him a hundred times more for his concern.

“It’s absolutely okay.”

It was like I gave him permission, because that’s when his body tensed and he let out a long, low groan. His cock throbbed inside me and he thrust upward once more before clutching me to him and kissing my mouth.

I couldn’t feel him spurt inside me, but I imagined I did. In my head the army of small, swimming sperm surged upward through the welcoming territory of my womb, seeking their target. Would one find its goal tonight?

Had we made a child?

And if we had, would it really be all right?

Nobody in their right mind would have ever asked me to help plan a baby shower, but Marcy’s sister Linda didn’t know me. Or maybe she wasn’t in her right mind. At any rate, as Marcy’s self-proclaimed best friend, I’d been strongly encouraged to help her sister with organizing this party.

It was supposed to be a surprise, but getting Marcy out of the house and to the restaurant where dozens of her friends and family waited was harder than I’d expected.

“I’m a whale,” she complained from her place on the couch. “A frigging whale, Elle. I’m not going out of the house like this. I can’t buy shoes. My feet are way too swollen.”

“It’s BOGO at Neiman Marcus.” I had no shame. I also had fifty people and a buffet lunch waiting for us. “C’mon. Get your lazy ass off that couch.”

“I’m not lazy,” Marcy said reprovingly. “I’m knocked up.”

“Shoes,” I said sternly.

“Fine. Bitch,” she said and held out her hand. “Help me up.”

I wanted to laugh. I wanted to run away. I most definitely did not want to be the woman sprawled on the couch with a belly so big she wouldn’t be able to see the shoes I was supposedly bullying her into buying. I tugged her to her feet. In the car I had to help her buckle her seat belt and we both laughed until I felt sick to my stomach.

I also didn’t want to be the woman weeping at the sight of her friends shouting, “surprise.” Marcy’s tears didn’t seem to embarrass her, but little did. I, however, would’ve been mortified to break down like that in public. It would have been like wetting my pants, or throwing up on myself. I never wanted to be that woman with such a precarious hold on her emotions. Not ever.

“You’re quiet.” Marcy, plate laden with cake and pasta salad, wore a hat festooned with ribbons and bows from the packages she’d spent forty minutes unwrapping. “Everything okay?”

“Absolutely.” I smiled. “You made out like a bandit.”

“I love you,” Marcy said suddenly. Tears welled in her eyes again.

I’ve never been a hugger, but there wasn’t any graceful way to avoid her embrace. “Oh, Marce. Hush.”

“This was the b-b-best…” She sniffled and then dug into her cake. “You’re the best friend ever!”

“I just helped, that’s all.”

“Thank you,” Marcy said. “I mean it, Elle. I’m so…thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” I told her, because there wasn’t much else to say.

Marcy was pulled away by some other friends who wanted to take her picture, and I was left alone for a moment to look around at the heaps of baby items she’d received. Diapers, wipes, blankets, tiny little outfits in pale colors and decorated with ducks and bunnies…. Only a few months ago she and I had gone shopping for sexy lingerie, and now her entire life had changed. Her entire focus had turned toward the stranger in her belly.

She didn’t notice when I slipped out.

I drove for a while before going home, just trying to clear my head. When I pulled into my driveway and saw a familiar car parked in front of my house, I wished I’d driven a lot longer.

My mother rarely visited us, but when she did she never called first. I think she knew if I had warning I’d probably make excuses about why she couldn’t come over. Since my father’s death, her life had changed a lot and so had our relationship, but it would never be the sort to write about on a greeting card.

My mother might not view me as the perfect daughter, but she loved Dan. This brought me no end of amusement and surprise, because she’d been set on hating him at the start. I never knew what changed her mind, aside from the fact I didn’t see how anyone could not love Dan. Still, my mother wasn’t known for loving anyone, and every time I saw her smile at him I couldn’t help wondering when she was going to sink the knife in his gut.

Dan, on the other hand, had no doubts about his ability to charm my mother. I watched them through the kitchen door before I went in. He poured her coffee and offered her the creamer. He was talking about something, his hands waving, and she watched him, nodding. I might have been jealous if I really wanted her to like me as much as she liked him, but thankfully I’d managed to get past yearning for that.

“…rip out the floor and put in hardwood.”

Ah. He was telling her about his grand plans to renovate the house. Dan talked a lot about what he wanted to do. I talked a lot about how much it would cost. We usually found a compromise.

“Elle.” My mother looked up from her coffee. “You’re home.”

I bit my tongue on the sarcastic “duh” that wanted to come out. “Hi, Mom.”

Dan came to kiss and hug me. “How was the shower?”

“Fine.” I wanted some coffee and helped myself.

“Shower? What shower?”

“My friend Marcy is having a baby,” I said.

“How lucky for her mother,” my mother said. “She must be thrilled to become a grandmother.”

Dead silence filled the kitchen. I glanced at Dan, but he was getting ready to flee. My husband is a smart man.

“Mom,” I said mildly, turning with my cup in my hand. “You’re a grandma, too.”

“I’ve got some…stuff…to do…in the place….” Dan said, and exited the kitchen before my mother could reply.

“I need a cigarette,” my mother said. “Come outside with me.”

I’d learned to pick my battles. I went outside. My mother lit up at once, smoking and looking out over our small backyard. I waited for her to talk.

“He sent me a picture of her.”

“Her name is Leah, Mom. She’s adorable.”

My mother glanced at me sideways and blew twin streams of smoke from her nose. “I know you think I’m being awful. But I just can’t, Ella. I just…”

“Oh, why not?” I asked, weary of her drama. “Because she’s black? Because he’s gay? What the hell is your problem, Mother, really?”

“Because I’m not sure how to be a grandmother!” she cried in a thin, high voice nothing like her usual one. Her hand shook as she stabbed out her cigarette and lit another.

I couldn’t speak at first, not until I’d swallowed some coffee. “I thought you wanted to be a grandma. God knows you keep dropping hints about it.”

“It would be different with you.”

“How would it be different?” I demanded.

My mother looked at me. “You are my daughter. It’s different with a mother and a daughter, that’s all.”

I hardly thought our relationship qualified, but I didn’t say that. Sometimes the things we most want to say are the ones that should never be said. “She’s just a little girl, Mom. All you have to do is…all you have to do is love her.”

I was horrified at the way my throat closed on those words and at the burning of tears in my eyes. “Just love her.”

We stared at each other for what felt like a very long time while my mother’s cigarette burned to ash in her fingers, unsmoked.

“I don’t know if I can.” Her words came out low and soft and naked. “I just don’t know if I can.”

Honestly, I wasn’t sure she could, either.

“You should try.”

How had the tables turned? How had I become the one who knew what should be done and how to do it? How had my mother become the child needing to be taught?

“Maybe we could…go see them together,” she said after another long, long minute. “Would you go with me?”

She had asked, not demanded. I couldn’t remember if she’d ever asked me to do anything in my entire life. And though we never touched, I reached for my mother’s hand.

“Yes,” I told her. “I’ll go with you.”