The Solitude of Passion (10 page)

“You’re at nine!” She gives a single clap. “You’ve been working very hard, young lady.”

“When’s the anesthesiologist coming?” No sense in flooding myself with temporary relief.

I see the needle on the monitor shoot up again.

Temporary relief, my ass.

“Oh, hon.” She comes around and lays the cool of her hand across my forehead. “It’s too late for that.”

“What?” I bat her arm away.

“We don’t administer epidurals this late in the game. I’ll be back in five minutes. I’m going to call the doctor.”

Janice waves from the corner of the room, and I shoot her a hard look. She gave birth to Mitch who was attached to the reproductive organ which got me into this mess to begin with, so I’m livid with her by proxy.

A sharp blinding pain ignites. It immobilizes my thoughts, paralyzes my body, my vocal cords. I gouge into Colton’s hand and squeeze my eyes shut.

I hate you, Mitch.

I hate you, Mitch
Townsend
.

Lights burst overhead like a nuclear explosion. An entire herd of people sweep into the room. My feet are strapped into position, and my gown lay open down the front exposing my breasts, my wide girth just below.

I can’t see the show over the round of my belly. Kat must sense this. She mobilizes and adjusts the pillows until I’m propped up. I catch Dr. Kines in snatches, seated at the base of the bed. The cold shock of her hand inspires another heartfelt contraction from Satan himself, and I give a harrowing cry with wild abandon. I scream so loud I’m sure I’ve rattled Mitch’s bones at the cemetery where they’ve buried his questionable remains. I want him to feel my agony—I hope it interrupts his harp lessons or his rotation on the spit.
See all the pain you’ve caused?
I want to roar until I’m seated next to him in oblivion.

“Push with the next one,” she instructs.

It takes four steady pushes before I feel a bustle of pressure unlock, and a baby slithers out covered in a coat of blood and slime, landing safe in the waiting doctor’s arms. She places the startled being onto my chest, and it turns beet red while letting out a bloodcurdling cry, makes me feel like an amateur at the lingual effort I put in only moments before.

“It’s a girl!” Colton shouts. He leans in and delivers a hot kiss to my forehead.

A girl.

She’s so sweet—a little bleating lamb, perfect in every way.

And I start to cry.

The nurse bathes my brand new baby girl and hands her back swaddled like a cloud with nothing but her tiny face blinking in confusion. Janice and Kat each take turns holding her before passing her back to me.

I’m so sore. No stitches. It just feels like a semi backed into my hind-end.

I unwrap her from the blanket and take in her perfect form, touch her fingers, her toes. She’s so light I hardly notice her heft as she lies in my arms. I gaze at her tiny features—a drop of a nose, dark navy eyes. It feels good to bathe in her beauty.

A tall figure moves in the doorway. Max.

My heart sings at the sight of him. I wish it were him beside me—not Kat—not Colt with his impossible reflection of Mitch.

“We don’t want any,” Colton quips.

“Yes, we do.” I bite down a grin and wave him in. “Look what I did.” I position her toward him.

Colt sticks his chest into Max. “Dude, we’re fucking having a family moment.”

“Hey!” Janice crosses her hands like a referee. “Do not use that language in front of my granddaughter. You got that? Max is welcome, as long as Lee says so.”

“Janice,” I whisper above the sleeping angel in my arms, “why don’t you take Colton downstairs to get something to eat.” I shoot Kat a look that demands she join the involuntary feast.

Janice and Kat drift out of the room without prompting, but Colt remains in a hard stance with his arms crossed tight like an ape waiting to pounce. I’m sure Mitch would be proud—cheer him on even.

“Colton please,” I beg. “I’m so exhausted I can’t do this with you.”

“I’ll be around,” he says storming out the door, good and pissed for Mitch.

“I’m so sorry.” My voice breaks as I motion Max to my side. “You’re more than welcome to be here.” Tears blur my vision. Damn hormones. I wipe my face into my shoulder before continuing. “I want you here.” I confess as he presses a quick kiss to the top of my head.

“Congratulations,” he says, not taking his eyes off her. “She’s absolutely gorgeous.” He marvels.

“I wanted to call you.” I let the tears fall this time in lieu of an apology.

“It’s okay.” He leans in and continues to take in the beautiful pink being glowing between us. “I’ve been here a couple of hours.” His dimples depress as he takes her in. “I hung out in the waiting room. Good news travels fast.” He offers a heartfelt smile that says I love you more than words could ever say. “Look at her, Lee. You have a real angel on your hands.”

“You want to hold her?” I offer her up to his waiting arms and he takes her, precious as blown glass.

“God—she’s light as a feather.” He presses a kiss to her nose. “Hey you—what’s your name?”

“She doesn’t have one.” My heart sinks for a moment at my first failure as a parent. She’s been here almost an hour with no moniker to call her own.

“You’ve gotta name her. Everyone’s got a name.” Max blinks over at me with those solid steel eyes.

I pushed this moment so far out of my mind. Even when I tried to think up names I couldn’t.

“I thought maybe if it was a boy…” I stop short of saying Mitch out loud. It’s too painful to even go there. “I guess I wasn’t really expecting a girl.” Lame, but true.

“Hmm.” He looks down at her in earnest. “She doesn’t quite look like a Mitch.” Max leans in against my shoulder and holds her between us like an offering. “How about Stella?”

“Stella?”

“Yeah, you know, from the play.”

In high school Mitch and I were in
A Street Car Named Desire
. He called me Stella for months. The entire school did.

“Stella—I like it.” A spike of enthusiasm fills me. I’m in love with the idea of gifting her such a special name. “Hello, Stella,” I say as he cradles her close to me.

“Hello, beautiful Stella,” he whispers.

I pull him in by the neck and touch my cheek to his. Max feels good, warm and comforting—safe. We watch this precious alien being together, and it feels like we’re forming a family.

Mitch

Isolation—a dark cave-like dwelling with a four-by-six-inch window near the ceiling. No bed. A hole in the floor emits a raucous odor. Every evening a small tray of rice along with a bed of loose noodles makes its way under the door—water in a bowl like a dog.

Doubt I would tell Lee if I could. I’m not really interested in sharing the subhuman creature I’ve become.

My father used to say, no matter what you’re doing, bring passion to the table. A dull laugh rattles from me at my father’s advice, his back of the cereal box motto. I wonder if he meant here, too. Bring the passion to the isolation chamber—marinate in the solitude of it all.

I shake all thoughts of my father away. Instead, I dream of Mono Bay—the entire hillside charred and smoking. I look for Lee, my mother, my brother, but they’re all gone—nothing but ashes raining from a kettle-black sky.

Each night greets me with blinding darkness—the kind that makes you squeeze your lids tight just to see a burst of red firing off in your skull. I miss the colors, the vibrancy of life. I lose myself for hours imagining life with Lee as though time had never stopped for us. I imagine her giving birth—her face lost in tears and sweat. A beautiful baby comes, but I don’t know what gender it is. I don’t know its name.

Sometimes I pretend it’s a boy, other times a girl. Sometimes I splice it in two entities, one of each. Lee and I are so happy in our Technicolor world. I make love to Lee night after night—such a wonderful, rich, full life. I wonder who’s living it. Has Colton manned up? She was with Colt for a while. She felt something once. She could do it again. I try not to make a habit of imagining Lee with my older, less cerebrally inclined brother, but it comes to me in jags—them holding hands, sharing a stolen kiss, the delivery room, their wedding day—him rolling on top of her in bed—that one I can’t turn off. Like some bad pornographic nightmare, images of Lee with her legs hiked over his shoulders hack away at my subconscious.

I punch my fist into the concrete.

A burst of tears come to the pity party.

I hate Colton.

I love Colton. It’s me I hate for being so damn stupid.

Max Shepherd’s face pops up uninvited—his sharpened canines, his brimming wide smile.

Colton is welcome to Lee as long as it’s not Max.

There’s no way in hell Colton would let Max weasel his way into her life. If there’s one thing I can count on, it’s that.

Two Months later

Max

The sky is washed a lavender blue as I pull in behind Lee’s car and head on up the walk. Mitch’s truck is parked high on the driveway, collecting enough dust to qualify as a self-burial. You’d think Colt would take it,
sell
it—do something so it doesn’t sit here like some morbid reminder that the owner is never coming back.

I worked all day at Townsend, sweating it out in the fields with the ranch hands just to give them the feel that someone is actually in charge. I’ve had Shepherd on autopilot for the last few weeks, and its still pounding Townsend in the profit department.

I give a gentle knock. Lee knows I’m coming over, but I hate the thought of waking the baby.

The door flies open, and Lee’s beautiful face brims with a smile. Her hair whips around, glassy and pale as milk.

“Flowers!” She beams. Lee always beams. Her hair is long and flowing with a mirror shine. Her smile radiates a glow that could outfit a nuclear warhead.

“They’re not for you.” I pull them back playfully. “Its Stella’s two month birthday.”

“Should’ve figured.” She makes a face before batting her lashes at me. “It’s Stella’s world, I’m just living in it.” Lee takes the bouquet and offers a quick embrace. Her hand leaves a hot impression over my shoulder as I inhale her scent. Lee holds the fragrance of lilacs all on her own.

We cross over the dark walnut floors I had installed a couple months ago as a gift. I gave her some commemoration-of-Mitch and out-of-friendship bullshit because I knew she wouldn’t accept me paying for it on my own. I meant it, though. Mitch didn’t deserve to die like that, and I’m sure he’s spitting nails in hell, or wherever he’s landed, knowing I’m here hovering over Lee like a shadow. I can’t stop, though. I love her and Stella as if they were my own family.

Lee runs water into a vase and plops the flowers inside, plastic wrap and all. Stacks of mail create mini skyscrapers all over the dining room table, along with various baby toys, diapers, and blankets that lie strewn about like pastel confetti. A week ago I offered to hire someone to come and help out, but she wouldn’t hear it—said she doesn’t like the idea of strangers in her home. Can’t say I blame her.

“Where’s the princess?”

“I’d say right here, but I doubt you’re talking about me.” Lee gives a quick wink as she takes me by the hand. The kitchen opens up to the family room, and she leads me over to the U shape couch with a bassinette situated on the far end.

“Wake up, angel,” she sings, hitching her hair behind her ear, looking desperately beautiful in the process. “We’ve got company.”

“How did it go last night? Catch some Z’s?”

“Are you kidding? This child doesn’t believe in sleep. If you lie to me and tell me you can’t see the dark circles under my eyes, I’ll never speak to you again, Shepherd.”

A soft laugh rolls through me. Of course, I can’t see them. Lee is immaculate, but I hear report, day after day, that Stella is a bit of a night owl—sleeps just fine during daylight hours apparently.

Lee picks up the baby and presents her to me like a trophy. She nestles in my arms for a moment before curling into me. Stella doesn’t bother to open her eyes, just squirms a bit and lets out a muffled grunt. Her fine blonde hair blows like feathers with the slightest movement, her cheeks each their own splash of pink.

“She smells like heaven,” I say, lifting her slightly toward my face—baby powder and fabric softener with a touch of her own special sweetness.

Lee and I get comfortable on the couch, same routine every single night for the past two months. Lee doesn’t seem to mind. She hasn’t evoked the restraining order yet, so I keep coming. She places her head on my shoulder and looks down at Stella while I kick off my shoes and stretch out my legs across the giant ottoman.

“Why don’t you go upstairs and take a nap,” I whisper. “I’ll hang out with Stella. We’ll watch a movie.”

“Trying to get rid of me?” Lee coils her arms around mine and gives a squeeze. “I’m not leaving. I’d never fall asleep, what with all the partying going on down here.” She clicks on the television, and some old comedy I didn’t care for the first time around greets us. “Nothing good is ever on,” she whispers, relaxing her curves into me. I can feel her chest cushion against my arm and close my eyes a moment, memorizing how it feels. “I guess that means you’ll have to entertain me.” She dots my nose with her finger.