The Girl in the Comfortable Quiet (7 page)

He doesn’t say anything, but he sits back down on
the sofa. He lets out a ragged breath. “I went to Jack’s to tell you I love
you.”

I search his face, and in dismay, I realize he
just lied to me for the first time ever.
I don’t know how I know it, but
I’m positive of it and it makes dread move through my veins. There is only one
reason Alan would lie to me.

“How did you find out?” I whisper.

He shakes his head, eyes locked on a vacant space
in the room. “Is this really where you want to take us today, love? We’re
moving forward together. As friends. A good thing. Why take us back there?”

He looks as discomposed as I feel. Apprehensive.
Grim. But I can’t brush this under the carpet between us, though every cell in
my body warns that I shouldn’t take either of us back to that part of our
history. Alan is here. We may never be face-to-face again, and staring at him,
I am also positive I won’t ever have closure, not on this, unless I see this
through.

I take a moment to organize what I need to say
into a semicoherent speech. I make a snap decision. I move from my chair to
sink down beside him on the sofa. Close, but not touching.

“I know you just lied to me two minutes ago. You
didn’t go to Jack’s to tell me you loved me. That’s a lie, Alan, but I know you
lied because you don’t want me upset or anything. But I’m the one who decided
to discuss this. You don’t need to protect me from this. And I want to know who
told you about my abortion in April after we broke up and what you came to
Jack’s to say to me. I want to know. I want you to tell me today.”

Alan’s face snaps toward me. I’m not sure what
I’m seeing. “What the fuck are you talking about, Chrissie?”

The earth falls away beneath me. He didn’t know.

“I thought you knew,” I say, my voice breathy and
toneless.

His eyes are rapidly flashing as if he’s trying
catch up with my words. He looks almost in shock.

“Oh fuck. Damn it, Chrissie. Is that why you
called me so many times after Malibu? You were pregnant?”

I stare at him, mute.

“Damn it, answer me.”

I nod.

His eyes are blazing in a way I’ve never seen
before. I can’t look at him. Just feeling him beside me is almost unbearable
because there is something raging through him that I’ve never felt before in
Alan.

“Oh fuck,” he exclaims on a shuddering growl that
makes me jump. “This is all my fault. If I’d called you back you wouldn’t be
married to Neil now. If I hadn’t been so angry. If I had known…oh fuck.”

He seems unable to finish the train of his own
thoughts. When I finally look at him, he is sitting elbows on knees, face in
hands. I can’t begin to decipher what’s pulsing through him, what this reaction
is. It terrifyingly consumes the air around us both. The room is painfully
pulsing with Alan.

His eyes, burning and intense, lift to fix on me.
“Is that why you went back to Neil? Don’t lie to me, Chrissie. Is that why you
married him? Because I was a first class asshole and he was there for you? Tell
me the truth, damn it. Is that why you married him?”

The way he grinds out the words turns my insides
numb with fear. “It doesn’t matter,” I say after a long while.

His eyes flash. “It will matter to me for the
rest of my life.”

The force of his voice makes me jump again. And
his eyes. There is too much to see in them, even though I don’t understand
everything I’m seeing.

He seems shocked. Alarmed. Horrified.

I start to cry.

He lets out a deep, long, shuddering breath.
“Don’t cry, Chrissie. Please don’t cry.”

The tears come stronger. This conversation has
deteriorated in a way I didn’t imagine. I am breathing heavily, hurt, acutely
aware I’ve unleashed something tormenting and ugly in Alan, and that I’ve
probably fucked up even having a friendship with him.

My wounded eyes fix on him. “I didn’t know you
didn’t know. I assumed you did, that that was why you came to Jack’s party. I
would have never brought this up if I had known you didn’t know about the
abortion. I’m…sorry…”

I can’t get any more words through the lump in my
throat, and after a minute or two of my only getting more discomposed, Alan
pulls me against him, his face in my hair, and his lips touching in kisses.
He’s trying to comfort me. I can feel that I’m scaring him with the intensity
of my emotions. But the way he stared at me—nothing in my life could have
prepared me for that. Emotions I’ve never seen before, anguish and other things
complex and beyond me.

I should never have brought up that part of our
history. I should have left it alone. I’ve hurt Alan and didn’t want that. His
muscles shudder as they hold me, and my heart clenches and I cry harder.

I don’t know what is happening here. I don’t know
why Alan is crying, too. We are together in some dark, shadowy place that I
don’t understand, alone
and
together. I can’t seem to calm for either of
us. And Alan can’t seem to calm for me.

~~~

I
lift up my head from the cushion. I grow aware that it’s night and I’m alone on
the couch and I fell sleep in Alan’s arms.

My gaze flitters around the room. Is Alan still
here? I try to pick up clues from my house. My eyes lock on the open door to
the lower level, and then I notice very faint music playing in the studio down
there.

Alan stayed and for some reason he’s amusing
himself with my very inexpertly recorded tracks. Shit. This afternoon was
emotionally draining. It would have been better for us both if he’d left while
I was sleeping.

I sit up, running my hands through my hair,
debating whether I should go down there. Then I hear the music shut off and footsteps
on the stairs. Alan enters the room, closes the door and settles in a chair
across from me.

“What are you still doing here?” I ask.

“It didn’t seem right to cut out on an upset,
sleeping pregnant woman alone on a mountain. Even I am not enough of an asshole
to do that.”

He says that with just enough elegant inanity to
save us both from this extremely awkward moment. He’s here, but tentative and
cautious about how to deal with me. Somehow that makes me feel less
off-balance.

“I’m OK, Alan. You don’t have to hang around here
because of me.”

Alan smiles, amused. “I stayed because I wanted
to, Chrissie.”

I lower my gaze. “Thank you.” I don’t know what
else to say.

He lights a cigarette and settles back in his
chair, more relaxed. Jeez, he’s not planning on staying longer? Even after
sleeping I feel physically depleted.

“While I waited for you to wake I listened to
your music, Chrissie.”

My cheeks flush, since I’ve never shared my music
with anyone but Neil. “It’s just something I’m doing to kill time up here.”

“It shouldn’t be.” His gaze sharpens. “It’s good.
Very good.”

I roll my eyes. He’s just being nice. He can’t be
serious.

“In fact, there’s a song down there I would like
to record, if you’ll let me.”

I’m caught completely off guard. I stare at him,
shocked.

“The music is good,” he continues into my
silence. “The lyrics brilliant. The arrangements not so good. I’d like to
record—” My world starts to spin. I know it before he says it. “‘Parts.’”

This day has gone off course yet again in a new
way I never imagined possible. How does he know that song is about him? I don’t
doubt that Alan has figured it out and that’s why he picked it.

“I’m flattered by the offer, Alan, but I don’t
want you to record my song. I’m not sure I want my songs even to be recorded.”

“I’m recording your song.” He meets my eyes
directly. There is something in those penetrating black orbs that makes me
tense. “I don’t need your permission, Chrissie.”

I frown at him. “What is that supposed to mean?”

“We have a contract. It still has four years left
on it. First right of refusal for all material you copyright. Recording
exclusivity. You signed an all-inclusive contract with me.”

My entire face burns from the too quickly
returning memory. Us in bed in New York. Naked and in love. The papers he gave
me that I signed without reading and tossed in his face.

“You told me that was a release for the tracks we
recorded on
Long and Hard
,” I accuse.

Black eyes meet my blue unwaveringly. “I told you
to read it.”

I let out a ragged breath. “It can’t be legal. I
was in high school.”

“You were eighteen. It’s a legal contract. I
don’t have to ask to record your music.”

My brain and emotions are not working cooperatively.
“So why did you ask?”

“Because I won’t record ‘Parts’ unless you say it
is OK with you. I would prefer that you wanted me to record it. It’s important
to me that it is OK with you. I want you to let me do this for you, Chrissie.”

His quiet, raspy plea makes all the junk inside
me stir up again. The phrasing was so deliberate. “If I say no, you can’t
record it, then what?”

“Then I won’t,” Alan whispers. “But please let me
do this for you.”

The husky intensity of his voice brings me to the
verge of tears again because I know what he’s trying to do here.
Please let
me do this for you.
It’s Alan’s way of coping with whatever it is he’s
blaming himself for because of me. There is something about what passed between
us that he is blaming himself for and is very emotionally ravaged over. I felt
it when he held me.

Recording my song is like the cello Alan bought
me, an Alan ritual of remorse and regret. I shouldn’t say yes. Neil is going to
be furious. But that place in my heart that understands Alan aches for him.

Those black eyes burn into me. “I’d like to do
this for you, Chrissie.”

I tell myself no, but I am nodding anyway.

Without a word, he disappears downstairs. When he
returns I can see he’s taken the tapes and my lyric sheets.

“I should go, Chrissie. You look exhausted.”

I smile and follow him to the door. It occurs to
me, belatedly, that he never answered my question about why he came to Jack’s
party. It’s funny that I should remember that now. We’ve both been through
enough today. This one I should let go and just let Alan leave.

I open the door and then stop him with a hand on
his arm. I tilt my face toward his. “Alan, why did you go to Jack’s party? What
were you really there to tell me?”

Alan stares at me. Beautiful. Enigmatic. He says
nothing. He leaves.

CHAPTER SIX

I
squeeze my fingers around Linda’s hand as I bear down, fighting through this
unbearable pain that no one warned me would be this way.

“Push, baby girl. Push. That’s it, sweetheart.”

The voice is not the one I want, but I’m too
overwhelmed to try to figure out how I ended up with Linda Rowan as my birth
coach.

She wipes my face, shifting her gaze to the
doctor before she smiles into my eyes.

Her arm tightens around my shoulders. She kisses
me on the side of my head. “You are doing so good, Chrissie. Just a little
while longer.”

I stare up at her. “Neil—” I can’t finish the
words. It’s starting again.

In between panting with me and keeping watch on
the doctor, she says, “Not here yet. Last call Jack got, two hours away.” She
laughs in an unsteady, anxious and overly happy way. “I don’t think he’s going
to make it and I don’t think there is anything you can do about that.”

“Hold on, Chrissie. Don’t push. Not until I tell
you,” the doctor says.

How the fuck am I not supposed to push? I
struggle and pant, listening to the medical staff and Linda’s quiet, loving
ramblings.

Linda turns my face. “Look at me, sweetheart.
We’ll just breathe together.” She sucks in and pushes the air out loudly.
“That’s good, Chrissie. Focus on me. Kaley is almost here.”

“Push, Chrissie,” the doctor says. “Give me a
good push.”

There is unbelievable pressure, burning pain
ripping through me.

“Oh, Chrissie, look at the mirror,” Linda gushes,
excited. “Open your eyes. See your baby girl being born.”

But I can’t open my eyes. It hurts too much, but
then there’s finally relief to my body. I collapse back against the bed,
panting, and there are wails in the room, angry and alive. Linda starts crying.

“It’s a girl, Chrissie,” the doctor announces,
turning her toward me then away too quickly as he finishes checking her.

Kaley is laid on my stomach.

“Oh my, Chrissie. She’s gorgeous.” Linda starts
kissing me waywardly on my face and I feel tears from her plopping onto me,
mixing with my own moisture on my cheeks. “Thank you for letting me be here
with you for this. It was incredible. Look at that girl!”

The baby is whisked away too quickly. We both
wait impatiently for the nurse to clean her and give her back to me.

The nurse sets her in my arms. I stare down in
wonder. “Is she OK? Is she perfect?”

The nurse smiles. “You have a beautiful, healthy
baby.”

“Better than perfect,” Linda says
enthusiastically. “Ten fingers. Ten toes. And absolutely beautiful. Look at all
that hair. Listen to her scream.” Her laughter intensifies and she leans in to
stare at the baby in my arms. “Hello, Kaley Stanton. You are amazing.”

My heart swells and Linda is hugging me and we
are both staring, crying and laughing, mesmerized by my little girl. I touch
her feet. Her hands. Her tiny fingers. The skin of her arms. Her dainty face.
The soft black hair.

I smile up at Linda. “She is beautiful, isn’t
she?”

“The most beautiful baby I’ve ever seen. She’s
going to be a heartbreaker for sure.”

I adjust her against me so I can see her face
more clearly. The medical staff continues busily in the room, and I study
Kaley’s little body, her pudgy arms and legs. So perfect. How can something
this small be so perfect? The line of her brow. Her nose. The shape of her
mouth.

Then everything inside me goes still. Oh God.
Even I can’t hide from
this truth
, what I’m seeing in my tiny girl. It
is too distinctive. And instinctively I know it doesn’t matter that her eyes
are blue now, they are soon going to turn dark.

Once we’re alone, Linda sinks down on the bed.

A new worry springs from the jumble already in my
head. Fresh tears fill my eyes.

“Linda?”

She looks up from Kaley, startled. Her glowing
expression vanishes. “What’s wrong, Chrissie?”

“What did Molly die of?” I choke out in a barely
discernable whisper.

Her gaze meets mine, intense shards of rapidly
flashing light, and I can tell she has known just like me since she first saw
Kaley. I just brought into the room what we both haven’t said, but I couldn’t
crush down the rising panic. Not when I looked at Kaley and had Molly pop into
my head.

Linda’s severe features melt into something raw
and gut-wrenching. “Oh, Chrissie.” She buries her lips in my hair, touching me
once lightly before she whispers, “It was nothing genetic, sweetheart. Don’t be
afraid. Meningitis. That’s what killed her. Nothing is ever going to happen to
Kaley.”

~~~

My
hospital room is so crowded it is suffocating. People, flowers, gifts and food
everywhere. Flowers for me. Gifts for Kaley. Messages for Neil. Food and
champagne for the celebrating family. The avalanche of stuff from Neil’s fans
overfills the space until there is hardly room to move.

Isn’t there a rule about how many visitors you
can have and how much stuff can be brought into a hospital room? And why isn’t
Neil here yet? It’s been four hours since he was two hours away. 

I stare. Too many people are here. The Stantons,
Jack, Rene and Linda. I wish they would go away. The waiting is excruciating.
What will happen when Neil sees Kaley?

Laughter makes me turn my head. Jack is holding
Kaley, his magnificent smile filling his face, and Michelle is chattering away.
They’ve been passing the baby around like a football. I’ve hardly gotten to
hold her. Everyone is so happy. It’s a happy day.

I choke up and lie down on my bed, curling on my
side.

Jack looks at me. “She looks just like your
mother. Exactly like Lena.”

I feel Linda’s eyes heavily upon me. I smile at
my dad. “Do you think so? I don’t remember Mom very well.”

A hint of sadness blends with the happiness on
Jack’s face. “I remember her well enough for the both of us, baby girl. If your
mother were here she’d be so proud of you, Chrissie.”

“I think she looks like Neil,” Michelle announces
dramatically. “Don’t you think so, Robert?”

“All babies look the same. But her
scream—definitely Neil. Her scream sounds just like her dad’s.” All the
Stantons laugh. “If only we’d known then, Michelle, that Neil would make a
living with that scream of his, maybe we should have encouraged it.”

Michelle swats her husband. “Be nice. You’re
going to hurt Chrissie’s feelings.”

“She’s married to Neil. She knows him.”

Robert winks at me and grins. Michelle glares at
him.

“Black hair just like Lena,” Jack repeats.

Black hair. Why does Jack have to keep saying
that? Out of my peripheral vision I see Rene give me
the look
, as if
Linda’s unrelenting stare isn’t enough. I adjust my position in bed so I can’t
see either of them.

Jack settles Kaley beside me. I stare down at
her. All I see is Alan. But maybe none of us are right. Maybe it’s true; people
just see what they want to see when they look at a baby.

Jack drops a kiss on my head. “Neil should be
here soon. Do you want me to start getting rid of people?”

I nod. “Can you tell the nurses not to bring any
more deliveries in here? There’s too much already.”

“OK. No more deliveries. I’ll see you in the
morning, Chrissie.” He laughs again, this time roughened with emotion. “My baby
girl has a baby girl.”

I tear up. “She’s incredible, isn’t she?”

“Beautiful just like you.”

He kisses my cheek and steps back. Somehow Jack
gets everyone to start leaving. It takes thirty minutes of goodbye hugs and
kisses before all the Stantons are gone, but finally the room is empty. It’s
the first time in a very long time that I feel like I can breathe.

Silence. The minutes tick by, and I try to keep
my nervousness contained by studying Kaley. Her pinkish nails, the texture of
her skin. The shape of her lips.

The quiet of the hospital is shattered by an
earsplitting eruption of sound in the hallway and my nerves prick. The too-loud
commotion means Neil has finally arrived and that the Stantons didn’t leave
completely. They’ve been lounging just beyond the door waiting for him.
Overlapping voices and laughter echo in that haphazard way my in-laws
communicate in. I pick out Neil’s laughter. He sounds so happy…

The door opens and I turn in bed. Green eyes are
smiling and staring at me. 

Neil crosses the room, scoops me up in his arms
and gives me a passionate embrace. “God, it feels so good to finally be here
with you, Chrissie,” he whispers between kisses. “Are you OK, baby? It drove me
crazy not getting here in time. Just tell me you’re OK. Just tell me she’s OK.”

He is shaking from his emotion. His eyes have a
telltale shimmer. 

“She’s perfect, Neil. I’m so happy you’re finally
here.”

He sinks down on the bed and stares at the baby.
He laughs, raking a shaky hand through his hair. “We were always so worried
she’d come after the break. And look at her, she decided to come early.” He
laughs again, tracing the line of her cheek with his finger. “Oh God, did we
really create that?”

“Yep, she’s ours.” I laugh even though tears
sting my eyes. “She’s beautiful, isn’t she?”

He nods. Proud. Happy. He looks almost too choked
up to speak. I’ve never seen Neil look so over-the-moon. The color in his eyes
darkens. “So how is my baby today?”

I laugh at him using that overly played line from
my pregnant months since Kaley is now here and Neil can see for himself how she
is—
how she is
—I stop that thought before it fully forms.

I slip a hand around his neck, pulling him into
my kiss. “Both your girls are good, Neil. Even better now that you’re here.”

~~~

Neil
sleeps beside me on the hospital bed, one arm wrapped around me, his cheek
close to me on the pillow. He looks so tired. Twenty hours travel here. And he
still missed the birth. Another six hours with his family since the Stantons
invaded the room again after Neil got here. But the mood in the room was more
festive with Neil part of the celebration. Or maybe it was just I felt happier
because Neil was here and everything was still OK.

Gosh, he is so overjoyed and obsessed with Kaley.

I chew on the tip of my pen and stare at the
blank page of my journal. There is so much inside me that I want to spill onto
the paper. If I can get it written down maybe I can make it go away. Maybe I
can keep it from hurting us.

An hour later, I still haven’t written a thing.
It’s the first time I’ve ever been afraid of putting the thoughts in my head in
my journal. I look at the clock. 3:30 a.m. Neil hasn’t stirred in three hours.
Kaley has been silent nearly as long.

I set my journal on the bedside table and curl on
my side. The door opens, but I ignore it. The nurse again. I might be able to
get some sleep if they stopped coming in every twenty minutes.

I hear something being set on the table.

“Mrs. Stanton?” I turn my face toward her. She
frowns. “Your husband can’t sleep in the bed with you. Hospital rules. Do you
want to wake him or should I?”

I glance down at Neil and pout. “Just let him
stay. Please. He’s been traveling since last night to get here today.”

She reaches for the blood pressure cuff, wraps it
around my arm and pumps it up vigorously. She removes the cuff, writes
something in my chart and stalks toward the door.

She looks at me, making a conspiratorial face.
“Don’t tell anyone I said it was OK.”

I smile and nod.

“Oh, and those arrived for you.” She points to
the table by the window. “I know you didn’t want any more flowers in here, but
they’re so lovely.”

I look in the direction she’s pointing and see a
dozen long-stem violet roses surrounded by dozens of white in a vase with an
elegant violet ribbon.

My lips tremble and my eyes start to burn. “Can
you bring them over and put them on the table next to me?”

The nurse moves the flowers and I wait until the
door closes behind her. I search the vase. No card. Then I carefully pick out a
violet rose and take a fast sniff before I shorten the stem with my nails. I
grab my journal and open it to the page with today’s date. I tuck in the rose
and press it there.

“Are you all right?” Neil whispers, his voice
groggy.

I quickly put away my journal. “I’m fine.”

“You’re moving around a lot. Aren’t you tired?
You should be exhausted. Why aren’t you sleeping?”

I scooch down in the bed, turning onto my side to
face Neil. “I’m too busy watching you and our daughter sleep.”

I kiss him on the nose and he molds his body into
me.

“I love you, Chrissie.”

Neil drifts off on me before I can say, “I love
you, too.” I lie there staring at him. He’s right. I should be sleeping. But
I’m afraid to close my eyes and dream.