Love, Always (5 page)

“Less pink,” I tease him.

“She’s gonna come out looking like an alien. The least we can do is help her look like a girl.”

“Girls wear blue too.” I pick up a blue onesie and toss it in the cart after I stick my tongue out at him. I’ve gotten so good at pretending, I actually have moments of actual joy. This is one of those rare moments.

Adam grabs one of the maternity popsicles and puts it in his mouth. He’s such a dork.

“More diapers?” I ask.

“We already have five boxes. How many do we need?”

“A lot. Babies crap a lot.”

“That’s your department, sweetie.”

“Like hell it is.”

“I am not going near my daughter’s…” he looks around as he turns red in the face, “private area,” he whispers.

I laugh louder than necessary as I try to ignore the internal battle building inside of me at him calling the baby his daughter. She is his. We agreed, but it doesn’t lessen the blow each time he says it.

“You’re cleaning the dirty diapers, Adam.” I take his popsicle away from him and suck on it in the hopes the nausea his words have caused will subside.

“You alright, sweetie?” Have I mentioned how amazing Adam is? He pampers me with spa days and prenatal massages. He makes sure I eat and eat well. He goes to all my doctor visits. He rubs my feet and holds my hair back when I get sick. There’s no logical reason for me to feel anything but joy at him wanting to be my baby’s dad, but emotions are rarely ever logical.

“Just hungry,” I lie.

“Let’s pay and I’ll grill us up some chicken and asparagus when we get home.”

“What if we just grabbed pizza on the way home?” I ask, and he lifts his eyebrows. Why he would choose to go on a health streak while I’m pregnant is beyond me. “Pizza it is,” I determine and he laughs. ”And soda.”

Back home, Adam puts the baby’s clothes into the wash as I take our pizza and plates to the couch. I grab the bag Adam left behind to see what book Adam bought this time. I flip through the pages, holding onto my tears as I read The Giving Tree. That’s Adam; he’s my Giving Tree. And what have I given him?

I go to my bedroom and rummage through my drawers until I find my ultrasound pictures. I take out the frame my parents sent me from London and quickly scribble 
Keep us with you. We love you, daddy
on the back of the picture before putting it in the frame. I don’t have much left in me to give him and hope this is enough.

While Adam washes his hands in the kitchen, I sneak into his room and put the frame in the duffel bag he is traveling with. Pleased with my small token, I go back to the couch where we eat our pizza.

“Good choice.” I wink at him.

“Funny. I want you to keep a food diary when I’m gone and email it to me every day so I can make sure you’re eating right.”

“You’re insane,” I snort.

“I’m serious.”

“Negative.”

“Negative?”

“Ain’t gonna happen.” I put my plate on the coffee table and pick up The Giving Tree.

“I loved that book when I was little,” he tells me.

Figures.

He takes it from me after he places his plate on the coffee table. With his hands running circles on my stomach, he begins to read the sweetest children’s book I’ve ever heard. The Giving Tree; that’s how parents are supposed to be. They should give, without needing to receive. I hope I can do that for Josh’s baby girl.

Adam

I hated leaving Dee, but the truth is I needed the space. I’d do anything for Dee. I’d drape myself in her angst just to alleviate hers. I’d trade places with Josh and bury myself in the ground so she’d never cry a single tear for him again. I’d give up the band and everything I’ve worked towards just to take care of her.

I love Dee, and that is where my biggest problem lies. I love her. I’ve always loved her. And now, like some sick twisted fantasy, I have her, but I don’t.

In one moment in a lifetime of moments, I lost my best friend and brother. I lost the biggest part of who I was and why I started Wasted Circle. In that same moment, I got the only woman I’ve ever cared for and my best friend’s baby. I found a reason to move forward. To move past the wrongs I’ve committed and start anew.

I promised Josh I’d watch over them and I’m trying, but I’ll be damned if it isn’t hard. The more time I spend with Dee, the more my desperation for her grows. The more she grieves for Josh, the more certain I become of my own self-worth. My presence doesn’t diminish her pain, but is a constant reminder of all that she has lost.

Just as I am a reminder to my own mom of all that she lost.

Six years old

I fall back to sleep with the nice lady humming softly beside me, but later wake up alone. I wonder if Tommy’s here yet. I crawl off the bed carefully so I don’t hurt where the needle is and tiptoe over the cold floor until I’m standing in front of a long desk.

“What are you doing out of bed, mister?” one of the nurses behind the desk asks me when she sees me.

“I want to meet my little brother,” I tell her, my heart skipping with excitement.

“Oh, sweetie.” Her eyes fill with tears, and I don’t know why she’s so sad. “Your mom’s resting right now, but you can see her tomorrow.” She wipes at her tears and smiles at me, so I try to smile back at her.

“And my dad?” I ask, the nightmare from a few hours repeating in my head.

The nurse turns away from me to wipe away more tears, so I go to her and crawl on her lap so I can take her tears away the same way Mom takes away my tears.

My days consist of cleaning the condo until every surface sparkles, taking short walks around the block, cooking well-balanced Adam-approved meals, and skyping with Adam when he’s away. I don’t allow myself to step foot in my room until ten PM, because I know if I go in, I’ll crawl into bed and not want to come back out.

My body hurts all the time, my head spins with migraines that leave me exhausted, but I rarely sleep anymore. I spend most nights staring at the back of my eyelids, wishing for sleep. Every day is a struggle, and I’m not sure if it’s the pregnancy or the depression that’s keeping me hostage this time. I’m seven months pregnant, so it could very well be the pregnancy and the hormones that come along with it. Then again, it’s been one hundred and sixty-six days since I last saw or spoke to Josh, so maybe...

The only time I feel relatively normal is when Adam comes home. It must be exhausting for him, but he usually comes home for a couple days a week as the band travels to their next stop, and then he’ll fly back to do their show. He looks tired when he gets here, no longer the happy image on the computer screen I skype with, and often spends his time at home sleeping. I know I’m selfish. I know I should tell him not to worry about me. I know this, but I don’t because I need him. He and pain are my only constants.

Instead of partying with his band, he’s coming home for his twenty-first birthday, so I’ve decided to surprise him with his favorite meal. After a quick phone call with his mom who offered to help me cook, but settled on giving me clear directions and joining us for dinner, I go to the store to buy everything. Because I’m pregnant and should indulge in my cravings, I pick up a pack of chocolate cookies and head to the register after I grab everything I need. Once at the checkout lane, I spot a popular magazine declaring Adam as one of the sexiest men in the world. I smile back at the picture of him as I pick it up and pay for it so I can read it at home. Josh would have crapped himself at the sight of Adam on the cover of a magazine.

With Adam’s stew boiling, I settle on my couch and stretch my aching back before I read the article about Adam. He looks cocky, arrogant, not at all like the Adam I know. I giggle at the list of models he has supposedly dated, but grow sober when I get to the part about Josh.

My world stopped. We’d been friends since elementary, and if anything, he was more like my brother. This was our dream. Music was our common ground. I wasn’t sure I wanted music in my life after he died, but I owe it to him to try.

It’s good gettin’ back into it. It’s right, you know? Music’s in my soul. I’m nothing without it. But still, sometimes it feels like I’m going through the motions without feeling the emotions. Does that make sense? (laughs)

Going through the motions, without feeling the emotions. Yeah, Adam, that makes perfect sense. I’ve been so self-absorbed in my own pain I haven’t once thought about what Adam is going through. I’ve seen the traces of his sadness, but never the extent of his pain. Desperate for air, I open the balcony doors and crumble onto the floor in sobs. He’s been there for me, picking me up and nurturing me while his own needs went unattended.

I don’t hear Adam when he walks through the front door, but know the exact moment he is behind me. He kneels down beside me and holds me as my body trembles with each agonizing sob.

I turn around to hug him to me, but stop short when I see a group of ten or fifteen people behind him in our living room. They are holding pink balloons and presents wrapped in pink wrapping paper, but are trying to look at anything and anyone but me.

With Adam’s hand in mine, I stand up slowly, wiping the snot dripping down my nose with the back my sleeve. I can’t believe it. On his birthday, Adam has decided to throw me a baby shower.

“Surprise?” he says sheepishly, and I force a laugh that probably makes me sound maniacal more than anything else. He wipes my tears away with the palm of his hand and hugs me quickly.

“I was making you beef stew,” I tell him, just as nervous. “Your mom gave me the recipe.”

“You’re the best, Dee.” He kisses the back of my head and I laugh again before I walk towards the group of people who have come to help me celebrate the upcoming birth of my daughter.

“I’m pregnant,” I tell them and shrug my shoulders. “I’m supposed to be an emotional train wreck.” Thankfully, they all laugh.

After making my rounds greeting everyone, including my parents who were kind enough to grace me with their presence, I grab the magazine from the couch and throw it in my bedroom. Adam puts his stew to simmer before handing me a plateful of Cuban pastries. I listen to Ricky, Wasted Circle’s bassist, tell the room stories of the mayhem the band has caused in their after-parties.

“Some chick offered to pay Adam for birthday sex!” he shouts and sends his head back in a roar of laughter while Adam’s mom listens from beside me on the couch with disapproval etched on her face. “She was perfect, a little sex kitten with boobs that came out to here.” He motions his hands forward and we all laugh at the expression on his face. “How could you say no to that?” Ricky grabs Adam in a headlock, but Adam gets away quickly with a laugh that I know is fake.