Wet (17 page)

She looks terrified, like a little girl accidently left behind at the bus depot.

I hate seeing her like this and I’m so amped up I can’t sit down. “What happened?”

She curls forward and rubs her fingers over her scalp nervously. “Well, to start with he said it wasn’t his.”

Motherfucker did not!

“Classy. Did he forget that you were in paradise together when it happened?” “According to him that doesn’t mean for sure it’s his.”

I grit my teeth so hard my jaw hurts. “So what’s he saying, that you got it on with the cabana boy in Maui?”

“I have no idea what he’s thinking. He insists it wasn’t him, and he also disputes that there was a problem with his condom.”

“That’s big of him. I think all of those cleaning products have gone to his head.

But what can you expect from a man who is afraid of sand?”

“You know, I didn’t expect for a second that he’d be happy about the news, but I didn’t think he’d stoop so low as to say it couldn’t possibly be his.”

“He’s a dirty scumbag. Don’t let all those bottles of sanitizer fool you.”

“I told him that I’m more than willing to do a paternity test if he needs reassurance, but I’m sure it’s his.”

“So what plan did you guys make?”

“Well he left without any kind of plan. As a matter of fact, he said not to contact him and that his lawyer would make sure that he was not responsible for any child support.”

“Are you serious? What kind of man would do this?” I ask as I feel the fury work its way up my neck.

She looks up at me with the saddest eyes I’ve ever seen. “Not a good man.”

Pressing her hands over her face, she starts to cry. I sit down on the couch and slide my arm over her shoulder so she can lean into me. “I’m so sorry, Elle.”

She silently nods as the tears stream down her face. We sit like that for a few minutes and then she clears her throat. “What am I going to do?”

“Just take things one step at a time, that’s what my dad always says. Hey, how about a walk? It’ll be good for you.” I want to say it’ll be good for the baby, too, but I stop myself.

We’re silent and walk almost to the corner before she turns to me. “This was a good idea. I needed to get out of the house.”

“Me too. When we get back let’s burn some candles to get the Viking stink out of your home.”

The corners of her mouth turn up the tiniest bit. “Good idea.”

Two kids wiz by us on their bikes and I watch them until they turn the corner. I’ve always liked this neighborhood but now I’m seeing it in a new perspective. It’s a family kind of place. “This seems like a great area to raise a kid in.”

“It is. That’s part of what drew me to living here. I know I don’t come off as the most maternal person because of my upbringing, but do you know when I was little I was fixated on being a mom? I had a baby dolly that I treated like a real baby. I had a little stroller for it and everything. I loved taking care of it.”

It makes my chest hurt to know she had a dream and life sucked the beauty out of it. “I bet you were a cute kid.”

She smiles. “I’ll have to show you pictures some time.”

“I’d like that. So you make it sound like your attitude about being a mom changed over the years.”

Her expression falls. “I blame a lot of that on my mom. She was always telling me how much work I was, how she couldn’t get a good job or make decent money to support us because she had no help raising me.”

“Where was your dad?”

“Apparently off drinking somewhere. There was a point where her schedule changed at the restaurant she worked at, so she had no choice after school but to drop me off at one of those youth center places with strange people lurking around. I’d have a paper bag with a sandwich and juice box for my dinner. I was only in the second grade.

“Luckily the director of the center took a liking to me and she took me under her wing. She gave me little jobs and taught me how to be strong and self-reliant. It was probably around that time, where I was spending time around kids that were neglected, that made me realize maybe I wasn’t meant to be a mother. If my mom couldn’t handle it, why would I think I could?”

“And what do you think now?”

She lets out a long sigh. “That’s what I’m trying to figure out.”

“You know Elle, sometimes the best way to learn is from poor examples that teach you what
not
to do.”

“I suppose you’re right. Unfortunately, I have a long list there.”

“And you aren’t your mother.”

“Thank you. I hope not. I don’t want to end up bitter and angry at the world like she is.”

“That director lady was right . . . you’re strong and self-reliant.”

She loops her arm through mine. “So enough about me. What about you, do you want to have a kid one day?”

I shake my head.

Her expression falls. “You don’t?”

“No, I don’t want
a
kid, I want a whole lot of kids. You know those reality shows with the super-sized families? When I was younger I wanted a super-sized family. We would be our own village. How cool would that be?”

“You’re insane,” she says with a laugh. “That’s a baby factory, not a family.”

“But I’d have my own posse.”

“You say all this like it’s a good thing.”

“I used to be a camp counselor—four years at Camp Yallani. I loved the little tykes. The more little ones swarming around me, the better.”

“Sounds like chaos.”

I grin. “Managed chaos.”

“So you better get moving on this big idea. You’re getting a little old to have a super-sized family.”

I let out a long exaggerated sigh. “I know. I’ve had to downsize my dreams.”

She purses her lips. “Plus you have to find a woman with breeding tendencies who has lots of ideas for first names that start with the same letter. That’s the rule with big families, right? Something like: Timmy, Terry, Teresa, Tess, Thomas, Taylor, Toodles . . .”

My eyes grow wide. “Toodles?”

She nods. “Catchy, right? You need at least one wacky, far-out name.”

“Sorry . . . Toodles is a no. And you’ve nailed the biggest issue. It’s not easy to find women who will let their vejays be clown cars.”

She sputters a laugh and her cheeks turn hot pink. “Yeah, great point. Good luck with that.”

It’s great to see her happy even if it’s just for a minute.

I glance up and realize that we’re almost back to her house. “I’m going to walk you in and then I’ll take off. You ate dinner, right?”

She gazes off in the distance. “No. I didn’t have a chance.”

I give her a stern look. “You know I’m not going to put up with that.”

“Aren’t you the bossy one?”

Once we’re in her kitchen I fish through the fridge and pull out some stuff. “I’m going to scramble some eggs so you get protein.”

She slaps her hand over her mouth and shakes her head. “No eggs! Just the idea of them makes me gag right now.”

I put the egg carton back in and continue with my foraging. “How about some fruit and yogurt?”

“I think I can handle that, thanks.”

I quickly cut up the fruit and mix in the yogurt, then slide the bowl over to her. “Eat up.”

She digs in. “Mmm. This is good!” She waves her spoon in the air.

“Awesome.” I settle on one of the stools and lean my elbows on the counter while I watch her eat. It’s a glorious thing to behold, especially when she licks the spoon clean and runs her tongue across her sweet lips.

I suddenly remember something. Grabbing my jacket, I find the bottle of pre-natal vitamins in the pocket. As I return to the kitchen I remove the protective seal and get the bottle open before shaking out a vitamin. After setting it on the counter, in front of her, I pour her a glass of water.

“What’s this?” She holds the capsule between her fingers and lifts it to the light.

“A pre-natal vitamin. The pharmacist said this is the best brand.”

Her jaw goes slack and her eyes fill up with tears so fast that it makes my eyes bug out. A second later her lower lip starts to wobble and she looks unsteady.

I lean forward. “You okay? You suddenly don’t look so good. You can wait to take the vitamin if you’re worried it will upset your stomach . . .”

She does this weird wave of her hands and then lets out a sob before slinking off her stool and fleeing the room.

I’m stunned. What did I do wrong? Maybe I was too pushy. The website I was reading warned me that her hormones are in flux and she could be prone to wide swings of emotion.

I gingerly walk to the doorway and pause so I can listen carefully for her. I hear crying with the occasional wail.
Damn.
I must’ve really fucked up.

Gathering up my courage, I step into her room.

“Elle?”

The only reply is a sob and she turns away on the huge bed. In her vulnerable state this bed feels like it could swallow her up.

“I’m sorry I upset you . . . really sorry. I’m just trying to help, and . . .”

She sits up and turns around, staring at me like I’ve lost my mind. With her puffy eyes and crazy hair she looks positively unhinged.

“Sorry!” she yells. “You’re sorry?”

I jam my hands in the back pockets of my jeans and shrug. “Yeah, I’m sorry I upset you. I didn’t mean to.”

She sits up taller on the bed and bends her knees so she can fold them against her chest and then she takes several deep breaths. “I’m not acting like a crazy woman because you upset me, Paul. I’m crying because I just can’t believe you.”

I extend my arms out in frustration. She’s going to make me work for this. “But I haven’t lied about anything.”

Her head falls until her chin is touching her chest. After a few seconds she lifts her head back up and observes me with sad eyes, then holds her hands out toward me. “Come here.”

I step closer and take her hands in mine. She pulls me down until I’m sitting on the edge of the bed and I hike up my knee on the mattress so I can turn toward her.

“Look at me,” she commands.

I do, and I see a fierceness in her eyes. I can sense that everything about Elle has changed. In her expression I see a mama lion, a woman who’s invincible.

“What?” I whisper.

She scoots toward me and her grip tightens over my hands.

“I need you to understand something.”

“Okay.”

“No one. No one, Paul . . . has ever treated me like you have.”

The tears are streaming down her face now and I have to turn away. It’s so much emotion . . . a blazing fireball. It’s more than I can take.

She yanks hard on my arm to get my attention again. “No one has ever been so kind, so supportive . . . Paul you bought me and my baby pre-natal vitamins. I am speechless.”

Well, technically she isn’t speechless since she’s still talking but things seem to be going my way now, so I keep my mouth shut.

She wipes both hands across her face to catch the torrent of tears. This isn’t her most attractive moment, but even in a state of despair, I still think she’s beautiful.

She quiets so I decide to speak. “It was easy for me to do and the vitamins are really important to start early in the first trimester. I’ll send you the link for the study I was reading—”

Fisting the front of my shirt, she yanks me toward her. “Are you paying attention to what I’m saying?”

“I’m trying—I swear.”

“It’s your kindness Paul. You’re amazing, and I will adore you forever for what you’ve done for me. You’ve given me more than hope tonight. You’ve made me
believe
I can do this and be all right.”

Okay, this is good. This seems to be going better now. I decide to run with it.

“
You’re
the amazing one, Elle. I know you will be more than okay.”

She crumbles back onto the bed and starts sobbing again.
Holy hormones!
I’m starting to see that this is not a job for the weak-willed man. I need to be strong.

I flop down on my back next to her and despite her protests, I tuck her into the crook of my arm. She cries and cries while I make cooing sounds to try to calm her. I’m sure all this upset isn’t good for the baby.

“You really think I can do this?” she asks.

“Absolutely. I hope you don’t mind me asking . . . but can I be Uncle Paul? I may spoil the little tyke a bit.”

She sobs again.
Geez

“You would be Uncle Paul?” she asks in between tears.

“Yeah, I’d love that. And I can take care of the baby when you need help. Hell, if we get my parents on board they’ll want to babysit. My mom is absolutely wild about babies and small kids.”

“I really like your parents,” she says in a soft, sleepy voice.

I skim my fingers lightly over her back, back and forth, as I feel her settle into me. “Yeah, they may make me nutty at times but they’re really good people.”

A minute later I realize her breathing is deeper and she’s fallen asleep. We lie together like that for a long time. I like her in my arms and I like being with her on her bed. It might be wrong to feel this way under these circumstances, but I can’t help it.

I replay in my head all the emotions she shared with me tonight, from despair to hope and back again. I didn’t think she had it in her to be so emotional, but despite that she seems to be holding on. I try to picture her as a young girl being left at that kid’s center without her mom or friends and it gets me in the gut. Maybe her mom just couldn’t see a better way, but I have to think there could’ve been one.

Despite all that Elle rose above her circumstances and made something of herself. Now I’m more impressed with her than ever.

It’s just past midnight when my eyes open with a start and I realize I’ve dozed off. Elle’s curled even closer to me now, and I have to gently scoot away as not to wake her. I wander into the kitchen and find a pad on the desk so I can leave her a note.