A Little Bit of Us (18 page)

      “Tell me everything.”

      She pulls up in front of my building
just as I finish. Ex-building I mean. I watch her as she stares straight ahead, clearly thinking of something to say that’ll make it all better. “Shit.” I feel so much better… “Wow.” And again, you’re really nailing it Marie. “I don’t know what to say. I’m glad.” Wait what? “I’m glad you’re going back home I’m glad you two are taking a proper break.”

     “We’re over, completely, totally and completely.”

     She gives me a look that tells me she doesn’t believe me. “I wanted to throttle you these past two months. You’ve been tiptoeing around the issue. He fucked somebody else Maya. I wanted to scream it at you, I wanted you to wake up just like after your dad died. Stop fucking listening to everyone else and go with your own… heart or whatever. Listen to yourself. Don’t respond out of guilt.”

     Ok, that was unexpected.

     She’s not finished, “Summer agrees with me. We think you rushed back here and rushed back to James. You don’t deal with anything Maya. It’s about time you grew up a little.” I can see she’s not being mean, she’s just stating the truth but it still sucks and I still feel insulted. “Stop hiding behind your wit and your ridiculous antics and the emotions you tell yourself you should have. Go grieve your father’s death, go deal with the fact you’re about to become a mom and go get your head together before it’s too late and you end up with post natal depression and leave your kid with its dad just like your mom did.” Ouch. Harsh. My eyes burn, because she’s right. I can’t deny I haven’t thought about it. And yet, she’s still not done, “Do you remember first year in college? We had that safe sex speech which got us talking about having kids one day. Do you remember what you said?”

     I roll my eyes, “I said I’d never let my kid go like my mom did with me.” And I meant it at the time.

At the time?

     Details. Now where were we? “Exactly, and you’re going to grow the fuck up, accept this for what it is and be a fantastic mother that will put the rest of us to shame. You’re going to start talking about your little girl during every conversation. You’re going to
start sending me annoying pictures when you think she’s pulling a cute face that in reality I’ll probably think makes her look like a pug dog. You’re going to monitor every movement and upload it to Facebook to share with the world because that’s how proud you’ll be. You are not and I mean NOT going to give your child to James and fuck off back to a meaningless life of partying and sex because you have some warped view that that’s the life you love and the life you deserve! We had our fun times, fun times we’ll still be able to have.” Wow, she’s really going for it. “This child isn’t a curse Maya. You were never a curse. Your mom was just too fucking stupid to see how great you really are.” I nod, because there’s nothing to say. She leans over the console and wraps me in her arms. It’s shocking because Marie just doesn’t do things like this. Yes she’s blunt and to the point but never mean, only honest. But I never realized just how much she’s wanted to say to me. I vaguely wonder why she hasn’t said anything until now but I know it doesn’t really matter. She’s right. Everything she said is right that’s what matters. Not the timing of her sudden outburst or the reasons behind it. What matters is the truth and the fact that I really need to stop being a selfish bitch and make my life matter again.

     “Why are we crying?” I laugh and wipe the dampness from my cheeks as she wipes hers.

     She shrugs and opens the door, letting in a blast of cold air that chills me to the bone, “Sometimes we just need a good cry. Especially with friends. Now let’s go pack your things and get you to your dad’s. No need to put it off.”

     “But…” I start to say but she silences me with a hand over my mouth. “I’m staying with you. You’re not doing this alone.” Thank god for friends.
Now for the hard part.

     The apartment is dark when I open the door
. This always seems to happen when I come home, usually after a fucked up argument. As usual there is only a tiny sliver of light coming from beneath the door that leads to the living room. Marie gives me a shove, I stumble into the door and with a trembling hand I grasp the cool metal of the handle and push it open.

    “Oh thank god,” James says and jumps up from the couch. Déjà vu. “I should never have left you like that.” He comes over and wraps his arms around me. “We need to talk.” Marie doesn’t follow me in. She’s giving us our privacy, I’m thankful for that.

     “There’s nothing to talk about,” I slowly pull away. “I’m going to go pack a bag. I’ll send someone to collect the rest of my things soon.”

     He blinks and takes a shuddering breath, “You’re actually leaving? That wasn’t all heat of the moment was it?”

     No unfortunately not. I shake my head and give him a weak smile, “No. I’m going to my dad’s.” I walk back into the hall and switch on the light before entering my bedroom and doing the same. James leans against the doorframe just watching with his hands tucked in his pockets and sad green eyes watching my every movement. I pull a suitcase out from the closet and flip it open on the bed. My eyes burn as I start to sort through my belongings, making sure to have at least two weeks’ worth of clothes. James remains where he is, his face a blank mask.

     The packing doesn’t take long, even though I properly fold and organize everything. My heart is filled with hope, hope for a sudden sign telling me to stay, hope that all our troubles will vanish and it will just be me and James laid in bed feeling our baby kick and reading the god damn baby books.
This doesn’t happen though.

     When the sound of the zip closing comes to a final stop my shoulder’s sag. There’s no coming back from this.

     “We could still…” he starts to say but stops. “I don’t want you to go,” his voice is breathy and low. My lower lip trembles as I swallow the lump in my throat.

     “I don’t want to go either.”

     “Then don’t. Don’t leave.” He presses his forehead against mine, his minty breath fans across my face. “I love you. Don’t give up on us.”

     I hate to say this but, “I didn’t give up on us James. You did.” He staggers back a step as if I just punched him in the gut. I miss the heat of his body immediately. “It’s the harsh reality, you gave up on me when you took that bitch in your office and I gave up on you when I signed those papers.”

    
I call for Marie, she rushes in and scoops up my bag. “Ready?” she asks a little breathlessly.

     There’s really no point in delaying the inevitable. I nod solemnly and follow her to the door. “Shit,” I forgot the baby books. I dash into James’ room and grab a couple about pregnancy and birth from his nightstand.
“Is it ok if I take these?”

    
His brow quirks up at the edge, “You’re actually going to use them?” “Yes.” “They’re yours. I can buy more. I’ve read them about twelve times anyway.” He scratches the back of his head and moves so I can exit his room. Marie opens the front door but I’m stopped by a warm hand on my shoulder. “Just give us a minute Marie.” She nods and steps into the hall, the door shuts behind her.

     We both look at each other, the past couple of months since my return nothing clearly working through our minds. I was wrong to come here, I should have moved out in the first place. I remember when we first walked through the door and had that silent conversation. I think it’s ready to be said now.

     “I’m sorry,” we both say together and automatically reach for each other. I wrap my arms around his waist
and bury my face in his chest. He wraps his arms around my shoulders and sighs deeply. A sigh that matches my own, one full of remorse and goodbye. He releases me and rather reluctantly before dropping to his knees. With quick hands he whips open my jacket and pushes my sweater up to my breasts. I watch with a pained heart and a quickened pulse as he places his hands on my bare stomach and plants a long lingering kiss above my belly button and another below. “Don’t take her away from me Maya. She needs me too.”

     I wipe away the stupid tear that is tickling my cheek and nod, “I wouldn’t do that.” Never in a million years. “I love you James.”

     He presses another kiss to my stomach before readjusting my clothing. Standing in front of me he cups my cheek with his large soft hand and kisses my lips. It’s only a peck, but it speaks so many emotions and words for us. And then I leave, and this time, I look back.

    
I can’t do this, I can’t go back in here. Marie’s hand in mine gives me little comfort. My hand fists around the keys, keys I’ve not used in so damn long. I can’t do it.

     Marie takes the keys from my fist with a struggle and steps up to the door. She puts the key in the daunting lock that keeps getting further and further away, like one of those dodgy dreams where the corridor is never ending. Normally I hate my conscience speaking up, and my libido annoys the crap out of me but they’ve abandoned me too and I really don’t think I can do this.

     She opens the door and removes the key before holding out her hand for me one more time. I wipe my sweaty palm on my jeans before putting it in hers. Nothing worse than holding someone’s sweaty hand.

You’re doing great.

     Oh thank god, I thought you’d vanished with my courage. Now it’s time to step inside. I kick the door shut behind me and slip off my coat. I’m assaulted by scents, the same scents that always filled this home, bleach and books. The weirdest combination but the most memorable. My father loved his books. I flick on the light and smile at the rows upon rows of books on shelves high up on the walls, just below the ceiling.

     Marie catches me looking, “Your dad was a strange one.”

     I laugh and nod in agreement, “I always asked him why he didn’t just turn one of the spare rooms into a library. He always said and I quote,” I clear my throat and put on a deep voice. “Why confine such wonderful things to one room. You wouldn’t do it with an ornament or a picture. You put them out on show where they belong. So they can be found and read.”

     Marie stays silent as I flick the light on and take in my surroundings. My heart skips as I stare down the hall, expecting to see my father come stomping in, shouting profanities at his nurse who just found his entire demeanor hilarious. The place has been dusted regularly and it smells and looks clean, that’s a hazard of having so many books, dust. There sure are a lot of dust particles in the air.

     “I’m ok,” I exhale a long slow breath and release Marie’s hand. She drops the keys on a desk by the door and hangs our coats up. “Memory lane tonight. Tomorrow we’ll start going through his things.”

    
She nods in agreement but remains silent. Time to go forward. I step out of the long hall and into the living room. It’s not too bad in here, everything is in its place. No rush of emotions or sorrow or such. I feel along the back of the large brown leather sofa and smooth out the beige comforter that’s placed neatly over the back. My dad would fall asleep here, I’d come in and pull this same throw over him, kiss his head, fold his glasses and put them away and place his bookmark in the book that would no doubt be either on his face or chest and then place it back in its rightful spot on one of the many shelves he took it from. Then I’d switch off the fire, the TV and the light and head to my room. This became a regular routine until he got ill. Then, said routine, moved to his bedroom but I found myself doing it at all hours of the day rather than just at night.

     Right, the kitchen. Nope. Still nothing. The
refrigerator is empty, same as the freezer which is to be expected really. I rinse a couple of glasses out and pour us both a water each. Marie gulps hers down, I cradle mine in my hands, using it as an excuse to stay right here, so I don’t have to venture further just yet.

Stay strong.

    My glass goes on the side as I get the courage to go that little bit further. To my own room. Marie grabs my bag and follows me in. Everything is exactly the same as it was in high school. I didn’t change it when I moved back home to help my dad. Obviously things got moved around a little but nothing important.

     I drag my fingers across the top of my desk and open up my old laptop.
Instantly a picture of me and my school friends pop up, I smile. I don’t even remember half of their names.

     Sitting on my bed I look around, there’s a large board above my bed with hundreds of photos on it. Only two catch my eye. The first is a picture of me and my dad the day I graduated. Another is a picture of James and I, we’re at some boring barbecue function. I’d just turned nineteen, lost my virginity and was preparing to leave for Europe.

     I remember James, the boy who had ignored me the past three years. Now his eyes were on me constantly, I remember flirting with him, playing with him, laughing with him. He rarely moved from my side, he had it bad after this very same barbecue. If someone had told me then, “Four years from now you’ll have married James and divorced him and be carrying his child.” I’d have sent them off in a cuckoo wagon and said bye, bye.
Would have thrown them a party too.

     Marie drops my bag on the floor with a thud and sits on my mint green and brown bed. I join her, still clasping the photos in my hands. “Do you think he’s angry at me for fucking it up?” I ask no one in particular.

     “No. Your dad never got angry at you Maya. He’ll understand.”

     I hope so. Hopping to my feet I place the
photos back on the board and exit my bedroom. “I’ll just be a minute.”

     She nods and squeezes my hand before flopping backwards over my bed and searching through my nightstand drawers. Crazy girl.
Now for the hard part.

     I decide to rip the band aid off and just push it open. Now I wish I hadn’t. I’m standing in the exact room where my father died. The medical bed that he died in is gone and replaced with his normal king-size, similar to the one in my own room.  He’s everywhere in here, everything is still in its place as it always has been. I… I can feel him. My eyes burn as I sit on the side of his empty bed. He’s not coming back.

     I pad into his bathroom and grab his usual aftershave from the counter. It’s probably weird but I need to do it, I spray it on his bed, on his curtains, on the front of my top. This room isn’t the same without his scent drifting through, like cinnamon and spice. My favorite scent in the world.
With a shuddering breath I climb onto his bed and wrap my body around his pillow.

     “I miss you,” I whisper into the dark room and the tears flow. The largest, heaviest most painful tears I’ve ever cried. Tears for the times my dad kissed my scraped knees and attempted to put my hair in pigtails. Sobs for the times he would pat the couch and I’d curl into him as he’d read the newspaper. I was never interested in the news, I just liked him to read it to me. Heaves for the times when he would laugh off my crazy shit and make me pancakes. Convulses for the times he’d call me and beg me to come home and see him. Of course I was too busy until he got ill. Always at some stupid party or having some adventure. My weekly visits turned into monthly by the time I was twenty. It got to the point where he’d beg me to come home and see him. At that point I’d cave because in all honesty, I loved my dad, I loved spending time with him.

     My hand tingles, I’m not going to say that my dad is holding my hand. Because he’s not. But I’d like to think that he is, I’d like to think that wherever he’s spending his days he’s taken five minutes to come down and sit with me whilst I mourn
, god knows I need the strength. “I love you daddy,” I sob quietly and squeeze his pillow tighter to me. “So much.” And then sleep claims me.

     I awaken on my dad’s bed, my shoes are gone and the blanket is pulled over me. Marie must have tucked me in when I cried myself to sleep. I hate crying, my eyes are puffy, my face sticky and swollen and my throat hurts along with a headache from hell. There’s banging coming from the kitchen and the smell of bacon instantly makes my mouth water.

     After washing my face and brushing my teeth I pad into kitchen and smile at Marie who is serving up breakfast onto plates.

     “I ordered from the restaurant down the road,” she shrugs and motions to the empty take out cartons. “Hope you don’t mind.”

     “This is perfect,” and it really is. We sit and eat in silence for a moment. I’m scared to say my decisions out loud but they need to be said. “I want to turn my dad’s room into the nursery.”

     Marie stops eating and stares at me open mouthed, “Are… are you sure? I mean…”

     “It’s the right thing to do. He’d want it this way. I want to change this whole place. Apart from the layout of the books.”

     “Yeah, they do look rather good actually. Are you sure you’re not making this decision based on your messed up emotions?”

     I shake my head and look around, “I’ve got an entire lifetime of memories with my dad here. He’d have wanted it this way.
I want the baby as close to my dad as possible but I don’t want this place to be like a…” What’s the word?

     “
Tribute to him? A sort of shrine?”

      Exactly, “Yeah.”

      “Do you want me to get Margie to call your interior designer?” She taps her phone.

      “No, I want to do this. Sophie will understand.” Sophie is my interior designer and Margie is my PA who I’ve barely seen since returning. Oliver has her busy.

     Marie stifles her laughter in her hand, “Please. You’ve never even painted your own nails! How are you going to do an entire apartment with fourteen foot high ceilings?”

     I shrug and wave my own phone at her, “YouTube obviously.”

     “Great, I’m going to be covered in paint for the next… god knows how long aren’t I?” she sighs but I can see she’s not really fussed about it. “I’m happy to help.”

     Marie runs out after breakfast to get some boxes and garbage bags, something to drink and oh yeah, Summer is coming too. I switch on the stereo in the living room. My dad’s second passion in life was music. He’d buy hundreds of Albums then burn his favorite songs from each album to a blank disk. I remember asking him why he didn’t just used ITunes.

     “Because then how will I learn if I like another of their songs from their album?” To which I responded, “YouTube.” He just sighed and told me I just didn’t get it. Which I didn’t and I still don’t. I remember he told me how he used to sit with his cassette player and a blank tape with his finger and thumb over the play and record functions. As soon as a song came on the radio he’d click and wait.

     “Hey,” Marie calls and I hear two sets of footsteps plod down the hall. “The snow is really coming down out there.”

     Summer rushes over to give me a tight hug and fondle my pudgy. “I think we should build a snowman later.”

     I nod in agreement, anything fun to help cheer me up would be great.
“If you guys could go through the spare rooms, the dining room etc. Any photo albums and such please keep. Anything that looks like a travel souvenir or whatever.”

    “Don’t worry, we got it,” Summer smiles and gives my belly another pat before rushing over to Marie. “Your dad sure has a lot of music.”

     “I’m only keeping the mixed albums that he did himself. The rest are going to charity.” It’s going to be hard parting with them but I won’t listen to them.

     “I’ll help you with that then. We’ll do a set of boxes for charity and the rest for keeping then once we’ve emptied this entire place out we can put them all back in new places,” Summer gets a wistful look in her eyes. “I do love spring cleaning.”

     “It’s winter.” Marie snorts and places three glasses of Coke on the table. “Not spring.”

     “Same difference. Right, let’s get started.”

     We box up the – I’d say hundreds but I’m pretty sure we’re in the millions – of CD’s. Once that’s done we scrub the empty shelves that surround the sound system and move on.
I hope I’m right about this. I really hope my dad isn’t up there making some sort of deal to have me punished for this. Suffered enough pops. Just laying that out there.

     “She’s staring at the ceiling again,” I hear Summer whisper to Marie. They start snickering.

     “I wonder if she’s just figured out why it doesn’t rain inside,” Marie adds. Oh, yeah, real funny… not.

It is a little funny.

     Summer starts hissing her laugh, it’s a little comical. “No, she’s trying to look at her scalp.”

     More hiss laughter. I lower my head and glower at them both which only makes them cackle and scamper from
within punching distance.

     “James has text you,” Summer announces and throws me my phone. I unlock it and press the message icon.

James:
Appointment with the doctor the first week of New Year. He wants to take some blood tests and perform another scan. Thursday 1:00pm.

Maya:
That’s great. Is he our actual doctor until birth then?

James:
Yeah. My mom recommended him, you told me to pick. Can I come?

     I don’t respond, James is on the to-deal-with-later list. Thinking about him right now when I have this to do doesn’t sound like a good idea.