Rhythm (22 page)

“Amen,” he agrees. “One more thing, though.
Uh . . . I don’t want to push my luck, but . . . can I come home? I
can sleep on the couch.” He sounds buoyant.

I can give him this, can’t I? Besides, Will
and Alexa suffered enough. They deserve a complete family. They
need their daddy.

“Sure.”

He looks at me, stunned. “Sure, like,
yes?”

I nod.

“Oh, thank goodness, Rip. I’ve missed
home.”

“Shall we?” I play it cool, even though I’m
having a nervous breakdown.

“After you, Mrs. Peterson.”

Grant

The reaction of the twins when they learned
that I’m back for real is priceless.

“Daddy, can we go camping?” Will asks.

Camping
is when the four of us sleep
in the living room. Rhy and I will set up a tent and arrange our
beddings where we will sleep. Our only light will be the bedside
lamp, and we’ll have some bedtime stories.

“I don’t know if Mommy’s up for it. Ask her.”
I grin, but only to myself.
Great idea, Will.

“Mommy, can we go camping?”

“I don’t know if Daddy’s up for it. Ask him,”
she says it without looking in my direction.

I know that she heard my answer. She’s
teasing me.

“But Daddy said the same thing,” Will says in
frustration. He thinks we’re not up for it.

“Did he? Well, we’ll let him decide. Besides,
he’s the one who went on a vacation, so maybe we can do whatever he
wants.” Rhy fights the smile that is threatening to show.

“You hear that, Daddy?” Alexa interjects.

I nod. “Okay, we vote. Who wants to go
camping? Raise both of your hands.”

Will, Alexa and I raise our hands.

“Camping, it is,” I declare.

Will and Alexa bounce on their tiptoes.

I look at Rhy. She’s smiling while shaking
her head.

When all are set for our camping, we take our
usual places. From my left, it’s Rhy, Will, Alexa, and me.

“Okay, two stories then we’ll sleep,” I tell
them. They all agree.

I finish my story, and it’s Rhy’s turn.

“Once upon a time . . .”

I miss this. I’m very blessed to have this
chance once again, and I will do my best not to mess up again.

“And they live happily ever after . . . the
end,” Rhy says as she finishes her story.

“More!” they plead.

“What did Daddy tell you?” Rhy asks.

“Two stories then we’ll sleep,” they answer
in chorus.

“You heard how many stories already?” Rhy
continues interrogating them.

I chuckle.

She gives out a soft whimper while looking
daggers at me.

She’s always the disciplinarian in our
family. I’m the one who consents.

“Two,” they answer simultaneously again.

“So what we’re supposed to do next?”

They look at me expectantly.

“Mommy’s asking what we’re supposed to do
next,” I say, hiding my amusement.

They shrug as they say, “Sleep.”

“Okay. Now, come and let’s have our good
night hugs and kisses,” I initiate.

Rhy gives me a warning look.

I act as if I’m innocent.

Another small family tradition we have is the
good night hugs and kisses
. It’s the time when we will all
have our moments to hug and kiss—on the lips—each other. Then after
that, we will tell each other ‘good night’.

Alexa goes to me first, then to Rhy, and last
to Will.

Will goes to Rhy first, then to me, and last
to Alexa.

So when Will and Alexa are giving each other
their
good night hug and kiss
, Rhy and I are stuck with each
other—which has always been the case. Though before, we’re not
pondering before we do it.

We notice that the twins are waiting for us,
so I mouth, “Sorry,” to Rhy before kissing her softly and hugging
her tight.

“Good night, Rip,” I tell her the ‘mandatory’
words after giving the good night hug and kiss.

“Good night, Grant.”

And for the first time in a long while, I
know I will have a real good night sleep.

Rhythm

“Who’s that, love?” I ask Grant once he gets
off the phone. He looks apprehensive.

“Lola.”

Right.

“Babe . . . She’s about to give birth. I
don’t know what to do. Do I go there or wait here?”

He’s consulting me. That’s how sensitive he
became after we get back together. He always makes sure that I am
not in any way offended or hurt by anything he does or says.

I want to tell him to wait here because I
don’t want them to have a moment like they are a real ‘family’, but
the baby is his, so it’s like I’m competing with the child—which is
kind of immature.

“You go, love. The baby needs you.” I
emphasize the word
baby
to imply that he’s not going there
for Lola.

“You sure, honey? I’m fine staying here if it
means you’ll be more comfortable.”

“Hundred percent sure. Give me updates, will
you?”

His lips are pressed together in a slight
grimace.

I hold his hand and his gaze. “Love, I’m
fine. I may not be able to go there as a friend because honestly,
I’m not ready yet. But I won’t let you stay here to neglect your
responsibility.” I kiss and hug him tight just to remind him that
I’m
his wife.

“Okay, babe. I’m sor—”

“Come on, Grant. You told me you’d never say
those words again.” I smirk to let him know I’m kidding.

“Thank you, Rip. I love you so much.”

“I love you, too, Grant.”

Grant

Dr. Collins was right. Women are
different.

Lola is not as blessed as Rhy when it comes
to childbirth. She’s in so much pain when I arrive.

Cale’s the only close person with her that is
here. Her family doesn’t know yet about the baby.

“Hey, man,” I greet him.

He gives me a civil nod and walks out.

Cale is in love with Lola. He even
volunteered to be the child’s father, having no idea that I’m the
one responsible. He wants to take care of them, and even after
knowing the truth; he’s still a willing volunteer.

Lola opens her eyes and sees me. She smiles
as if she’s not in pain. “Thank you for coming, Grant. This means
so much to me.”

I know.
I silently thank Rhy for
allowing me to be here.

“You going for the epidural?” I modestly
change the subject.

She nods. “Yeah, I don’t think I’ll be able
to do it like Rip.”

The monitor beeps indicating another
contraction. Then she closes her eyes and winces.

What am I going to do? Should I hold her hand
like I did with Rhy? Or should I just stick with words of
encouragement? Or is it better if I just call Cale and let him do
it both?

I’m being a jerk, I know. Can’t help it.

I don’t notice that Lola’s watching me until
she speaks. “Look, you don’t have to do anything. Your mere
presence is more than enough.”

But my conscience is nagging at me. This
isn’t right. I should at least do some effort to show her support,
and standing here, watching, is not the kind of support a woman
giving birth needs.

“Sorry, Lola. I’m a jerk, but I’m not as
callous as you think I am.” I wait for a beat then ask, “Let me
hold your hand?”

She smiles and offers me her left hand just
in time as another contraction dominates her body and mind.

The doctor gives her the anesthesia. She’s
about to go on labor.

“You’re doing great, Lola. Keep pushing. Our
baby will be here in a moment and all of this is going to be worth
it,” I speak encouragements in her ear.

I want to say, “I love you,” because I do
love her . . . as a friend, but I don’t want her to misinterpret
it.

“Say it, please,” she says as if she has read
my mind. “I know you’ll say it. Don’t worry; I’ll make use of it
only for this moment. I’ll throw it once I get past this.”

“You’re silly, Lola.”

She laughs and goes back in the world of
child labor.

Then we hear her cry—
our
baby’s
cry.

“You did it, Lols. You did it.”

I don’t realize how near our faces with each
other is until she kisses me.

“I love you, Grant.”

Okay. I’ll say it back, just this time.

“I love you, Lola.”
As a friend
, I
silently add, and then I kiss her

“I knew it,” she jokes and kisses me
again.

The nurse gives her our baby after cleaning
her.

“She’s beautiful,” I tell her.

“Belle. That’s her name.”

My mouth opens but nothing comes out. Is it
from Rhy’s middle name, Isabelle?

“Yes, Grant. It’s from Rip. Also because you
said she’s beautiful.” She beams. “Come on, hold her.” She gives me
Belle, and I think the emotional baggages I’ve been hauling are
lifted. She makes me feel . . . alive and hopeful.

I hear an unnerving sound. Where does it come
from? The monitor—the monitor is going haywire. I look at the nurse
then at Lola. She has the same look Rhy had, back when she was in
the hospital. I remember Blaire.

“What’s going on?” I blow out a series of
short breaths.

No one answers me. They get Belle from me and
assist me outside.

The doctor and few more nurses run to Lola’s
room, and I’m rendered speechless.

“What’s going on?” Cale asks the same
question as mine.

I shake my head. “I don’t know, man. They
won’t tell me.”

Rhythm

“That’s not funny, Grant.”

Silence.

He’s only kidding, right? He’s just
kidding.

I stare at the phone and see if it registers
Grant’s number. I can’t accept a prank like this.

“Grant?”

“Mmm?” His voice cracks, and I know. He’s not
kidding. My best friend’s dead and he’s not kidding.

I mourn for the best friend I lost.

She suffered and I wasn’t there for her. She
won’t be able to hear the words
I forgive you
from my mouth.
She’s not going to be there for her child as she grows up. She
won’t see her first step. She won’t hear her first word. She won’t
be there for her first birthday. She won’t be there for all of her
firsts. She’s gone.

And I don’t feel any relief. If anything, I
feel regret. Regret that I wasn’t able to forgive her right away. I
chose to forgive Grant but not her.

Man, I feel terrible.

---

After redeeming my bearings, I go to the
hospital minus the twins. I can’t bring them there. I might not be
able to handle it, and they will see me cry again. They will not
appreciate that, especially Alexa.

I hear Grant before I see him. “Babe, she’s
gone. Lola’s gone.”

We hug each other for comfort and cry until
our eyes are dry.

“Where’s she?”

He leads me to a room, and there’s
Lola—lifeless. It feels wrong to use in the same sentence the name
of Lola and the word lifeless. It just feels wrong.

I run to her and tell her how sorry I am. I
tell her that I forgive her, and she’s a beef leaving me like this.
I tell her how I’ve missed her—that I’m going to miss her. I tell
her I love her. Oh, I freaking love her. And I tell her the thing
that tears me apart—that I’ll be there for her child. I’ll be her
child’s mom.

“I’ll show you that I have forgiven you
through your baby. All that I failed to do and say to you, I’ll do
and say to her. I promise to accept her as my own, L. I
promise.”

I weep until I feel Grant’s arms around
me.

“I want to see her,” I tell him.

“Who?” he asks, even though he knows who I am
pertaining to.

“The baby.”

He leads me to the nursery. It’s easy to
recognize her. She’s beautiful, just like her mom.

I’m shaking as the realization sinks in. I’m
going to be her mom.

“What’s her name?”

“Belle. Lola named her after you,” he says it
with much reverence.

Another tear escapes my eye. “I like it.
Belle.”

---

Belle turns one today. We come to visit Lola
before we prepare for Belle’s party.

“Say hi to Mama, Belle.”

“Mam-ma,” Belle baby talks.

“Hi, L. Your little spawn is getting lovelier
every passing day. Today, she turns one.” I let out a heavy sigh.
“This day is bittersweet for everyone. I always wish you were still
here with us. I wish that we could have the ‘mommy talk’. I wish
you’d witness firsthand how Belle grows up. She’s amazing, L.”

Grant puts his arms around me as he notices
I’m being emotional again. I’m always emotional when it comes to
Lola.

“And I also want to say thank you. I just
realize now that I haven’t thanked you yet for giving birth to such
a wonderful child. So, thank you, L. For Belle.”

I wipe the tears that fall from my eyes.

“Belllle . . . burr-daay.” Belle catches my
attention to tell me that it’s her birthday.

“Yes, sweetie, it’s your birthday. Mama says
happy birthday and that she loves you so much.” I kiss her on her
chubby cheeks. “That’s from Mama.”

“Mam-ma.”

“Yes, from Mama.”

Grant

It’s kind of Rhy to do all the efforts a
mother should do. I don’t expect her to accept Belle in our home
because I know that Belle will be a constant reminder of what Lola
and I did to her. But she’s not only accepting Belle in our home.
She’s accepting her in our family. She legally adopted Belle. She
introduces her as the new addition to the Petersons to everyone who
asks. Some raise an eyebrow, some understand. Rhy doesn’t care.
She’s in a mom mode with Belle as if she’s the one who gave birth
to her. Sometimes I even feel that she’s the biological parent, not
me.

“Come here, birthday girl,” I catch Belle
while running.

She squeals.