The Foretelling (Charlotte Bloom #1) (4 page)

"It’s dirt cheap, too. Sam got us a great deal because he knows the owner. Do you really love it?" She hugged me back and we stood there, clutching each other as we sniffled, both taking in the raw beauty of the venue.

"Yes, I do. I love it. I was skeptical when we pulled up, but seeing this… it’s perfect. I am so happy for you." I gave her one last squeeze and looked into the office. A petite woman with blonde hair was sitting there on the computer. I saw her stand to come greet us.

"Hello! Do you have an appointment?"

"Yes, but we’re a little early," Amara answered.

"Amara Azavedo? I’m Kate, the venue manager." She shook both of our hands and gestured for us to follow her inside the office.

"Nice to meet you, Kate. This is the maid of honor, Charlotte Bloom," Amara said, gesturing to me.

Kate was cute and perky. She reminded me of a retired beauty queen. She was older, probably in her 40s, but she was dressed to the nines and had on bright fuchsia lipstick. She sat down at her desk.

"Have you had a chance to look around?"

"Yes," Amara breathed. "I absolutely love it. I think it’s perfect."

"Great! Did you have any questions about the venue? Just so you know, we do our own catering and we rent all of the furniture, which is built into the base price."

"No questions for me!" Amara squealed. "I’m ready to sign the papers."

"Great! Let me print a contract up so that we can fill it out together."

The way she said it was very business-like. I appreciated the fact that she got right down to business. We sat down in two chairs opposite her desk as she printed two copies of the contract. I glanced over at one of them slyly, not wanting to snoop, and saw that Amara was right. They were getting this place for a steal. I noticed the date was left blank.

"Sam and I have been talking about a date, which I know is still up in the air. We were thinking August, if you have anything available during that month. A Saturday is preferable, but we know you’re probably booked on most Saturdays, so a Sunday would be OK too." Amara looked hopeful, and nervous. I smiled at her.
August.
I could work with August. It would mean Lainey was wrong. I stifled a yelp of joy. August was seven months away. August was not June.

"Unfortunately, we have no openings in August. Even our Fridays are booked."

"Wow. I had no idea Fridays were even a popular wedding day." Amara slumped into her chair.

"But I gather you want to get married this summer, correct?" Kate starting clacking away on her computer as Amara nodded, instantly perking up. "I actually just had a cancellation in June. Is that too early?"

My stomach dropped. No. No, no, no. Not June.
Not
June. Before I knew what I was doing, I was standing up and yelling, a little too loudly.

"That only gives her five months! I, personally, think that’s too soon." I looked down at Amara, who was looking at me like I’d just threatened to blow her family up. "I’m sorry. I just want you to have the perfect wedding." I sat back down. My heart was racing. I felt like a fool.

Kate was looking between us, a confused expression on her face.

"June would be great, thank you, Kate." Amara said this with a bit of grit, and she looked at me with big, angry eyes. I would have a lot of explaining to do in the car.

"Great! June 14th it is. Just sign here and here," Kate said, pointing to the dotted lines, "and you’ll need to leave a 20% deposit to hold the date."

I saw Amara quickly glance over the contract, and then she got out her checkbook and wrote a check, handing it over to Kate. I hadn’t moved since my little tirade. I was hunched over, clutching my purse tightly. What was my problem? I was acting like a crazy person.

Kate and Amara sat there chatting casually about the rehearsal dinner, the day-of, and the cleanup. I wasn’t paying any attention. It felt like a dark cloud had suddenly descended over me, and all I could hear were Lainey’s words.
Around Amara's wedding in June, things will start to unravel.
I'd started to shake with the reality of what was happening. Amara and Kate had wrapped everything up, and Amara stood, looking down at me.

"Ready?" She helped me up and I quickly waved at Kate before walking out the door.

Amara was pulling me along by the hand, which probably looked like a nice, loving gesture, but I knew better. She was pulling me away as quickly as possible so that she could whisper-yell at me. And sure enough, I was right. As soon as we got to the alley, she dropped my hand, crossed her arms over her chest, and started in on me.

"What the
hell
was that, Char?!"

I looked down at my feet. I had to come up with something. Pronto.

"I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to cause a scene. I just don't want you to shortchange yourself, you know? You deserve the best."

"Let me take care of myself, OK? I appreciate the concern, but I’ve got this. Yeah, it’s a little sooner than we had planned, but this place is incredible, and I’m just so happy they had an opening some time this
year
, let alone this summer." I nodded. Of course she was right. I was being ridiculous. She hugged me, and I let her. She whispered into my ear. "Is this because you might be pregnant in June?" I was taken aback. I hadn’t really even thought about that.

"Yes." It was all I could muster.

"Oh, Char, why didn’t you say anything? You know you’re going to look beautiful, and in June, you’ll only be a few months along. No one will even be able to tell."

I hugged Amara tighter. Oh, how I wished that were my only concern. I couldn’t tell her. I couldn’t put a damper on such a happy time for her. I had to face whatever was coming for me with bravery and dignity. I owed my best friend that much, at least. And besides, Lainey could still be wrong. I would know for sure on June 14th. How could a six-almost-seven-year marriage possibly unravel in five month’s time? It seemed impossible. Lainey was wrong. That was all there was to it.

"Let’s get some lunch. I’m starving." We walked to her car, and as we left the venue, I resolved how to defeat Lainey. I would do everything in my power to safeguard my marriage. I was not going to let it slip away.

***

March 2014

Two more months passed with multiple negative pregnancy tests. I wasn't worried yet; I knew these things took time. It didn’t help my anxiety about what the future held, but it certainly wasn’t the end of the world. My cycles were regular, so I knew it was only a matter of time. Besides, it gave us time to start planning. At least, that was what I told myself.

I’d enrolled Harry and I in couple’s counseling. It wasn't therapy, per se. I just wanted to go to be safe. If any issues were about to fall down on us, I wanted to be prepared. I’d booked our first appointment on the pretense that because we were starting a family soon, we should be as stable and solid as possible. He'd agreed, and we’d been going once a week ever since.

That was one of the things I loved most about Harry. He was game for almost anything. After we started dating, I was in Portland and he was in Vermont. We’d casually talked about where we wanted to settle down in the future, just as a way of deciding if we were compatible. I’d grown up in Portland, the child of two older parents who were leftover hippies who'd had me in their forties. I was an only child, not by choice, but because my mother had me at 43 and couldn't conceive another child. I had always felt very loved, and my Irish-born father was very good at making me feel safe and protected. I’d gone to college an hour outside of Portland, and Harry, who loved Portland, suggested we live there together after I graduated.

At the time, he was a manager at Green Mountain Coffee, but it was just a side job in the business that he wanted to be in. He had hoped to find a permanent job in the coffee industry, specifically coffee retail. Harry was a coffee fiend. He’d grown up outside of Chicago and gone to Northwestern for Business before moving to Vermont to follow a girl he was supposedly in love with. It was there that he fell in love with the business of coffee. Long story short, it didn’t work out with the girl, and then he met me. He was a couple of years older than me, which I had loved at the time.

With Portland on the table, however, I'd started to feel claustrophobic. I'd never lived outside of Oregon, and yet Harry was planning on moving in with me after graduation. He’d surprised me, coming to my apartment a day early, a day before I got my diploma in Public Relations. He’d brought one suitcase and one carry-on, and declared he was ready to move in with me. I still, to this day, cannot fathom how he had all of his worldly possessions in two bags, but he swears he was so excited to move in with me that he left a lot of stuff behind. He was spontaneous and fun. He’d quit his job, and the plan was to find a coffee store manager job in Portland.

The day after my graduation, Harry started to settle into my apartment. Mind you, we’d only been dating about six months by this point; so moving in with him was a big deal. Amara, my roommate at the time, was moving to Los Angeles. When she left, something clicked for me. I wanted out of Portland, and perhaps even Oregon. I’d pitched the idea of moving to Los Angeles to Harry, and he was totally supportive. And so, we saved money for three months, and made the trip down to L.A. that fall. I landed a job at a well-known PR firm, and Harry found a position at Intelligentsia Coffee.

Eight years later, we had basically the same jobs (I’d switched firms two years in, but it was essentially the same job with a bigger paycheck) and were almost seven years into our marriage. It didn’t feel that long to me. We’d come to L.A. with almost no money, crashing with Amara for two months before we could finally move into our small studio apartment in Hollywood.

Over the years, we began making more money, as people with steady jobs do. But
we
didn’t change. Our dynamic never changed. Eight years felt like two. I didn’t feel thirty. Harry didn’t feel thirty-two. But we were, and we were here now, chugging along. We’d been settled for a while, but only recently started feeling like real adults. With Harry’s recent promotion, we had even started doing things like saving for retirement and leasing two cars. We’d considered a cat, but our allergies became a concern. A baby was the most logical next step. I thought about this at our most recent therapy session.

"Tell me your plans for the future. Will you stay in Los Angeles? Will you raise your children with religion? Will you let elderly parents stay with you if they can’t afford a nursing home? These are all questions you have to agree on." The therapist was a young Scandinavian woman with high cheekbones and a skirt suit.

"Yes, no, and yes, of course." I looked at Harry as I said this. I knew he agreed with me. We’d discussed all of the above before.

"We plan on staying in Los Angeles as long as it makes sense. My job could relocate me, as could Charlotte’s. We’re open to that, but yes we do plan on staying in Los Angeles. No on religion, because neither of us are religious. And of course, all parents are welcome in our home, if need be." He squeezed my hand as he said this. Like before, it was great hearing him say this. The affirmation in his words comforted me in ways I didn’t even know I needed to be comforted.

Lainey’s prediction had rocked me from head to toe. I was always looking for cracks in our relationship. These "therapy" sessions were for just that: if there were cracks, I wanted to address them head on. But every time we had these sessions, I paid extra special attention to his answers, and our relationship in general. I only found smooth ground. What could possibly turn our marriage inside out in three short months? How bad could three months be, in the grand scheme of being together for eight years? I wracked my brain for an answer, but I only grasped thin air. We really were the perfect couple.

***

April 2014

About three months into actively trying, Harry and I received a false positive. I was elated at the positive result, but I took another test the next day and got a negative. Sobbing, I called Harry, explaining what had happened. Nothing was worse than having something like this come into fruition (or so you thought) and then having it yanked out of your hands a day later. I could feel him worrying over the phone, and he offered to come home. I brushed it off and told him to stay at work. I would be fine. I still had time. In the back of my head, I could feel myself thinking something so completely honest, I didn’t consciously address it:
Time for what?

As much as I loved Harry, I started to feel paranoid and out of control shortly after the false positive. I wasn’t myself. Amara’s wedding was a mere two months away. This had to happen;
or my marriage would fall apart.
That thought crept up on me one day at work and slammed into me so hard, I felt myself clutching my desk for support, even though I was seated. I left, claiming illness, shortly after. I was starting to believe Lainey, and that’s when everything turned upside down. I could feel the strain bogging down our relationship.

Dread settled in with each passing day. I focused my energy on getting pregnant. It was the only thing that kept my mind preoccupied. It was
exhausting.
Especially when we weren’t getting results. Harry could tell something was off. I knew he felt it, but he was too much of a gentleman to say anything, which also bothered me for some inexplicable reason. I didn’t want him to notice how obsessed I was becoming, and yet I was angry that he didn’t notice. He remained calm and collected, while I was freaking out.