Daisy (15 page)
It wasn’t Paige who came to my office forty-five minutes later; it was Livvy. Paige couldn’t get off work, and when she’d called back to tell me that Livvy was on her way, I didn’t even care that I didn’t know Livvy very well and that she was going to see me at my absolute worst. I didn’t care that Livvy in some ways embodied every fear I had about becoming lost in those riptides and undertows. I felt as though I’d existed in a state of animated suspension since crying to Paige on the phone and being assured that everything would be all right. I hung on to her promise as tightly as possible, and told myself that Livvy, therefore, must be part of that commitment.
By the time Livvy found her way to my office, she’d already told my boss I was leaving; I didn’t know how she’d figured out who my boss was, and I didn’t care. She packed my purse for me then led me to the parking garage, smiling and nodding at everyone we passed. I could see them all looking at me, evaluating me, trying to figure out what was going on. Amy was nowhere to be seen, and I was glad we didn’t have to pass her office. Just getting out of there was a huge weight off my shoulders. I forced myself not to think about coming back tomorrow and trying to explain myself.
What was there to explain? I was pregnant, my husband had emotionally left me to fend for myself, and one child wasn’t speaking to me while the other one simply didn’t know what was going on with me yet. Was there a better reason to fall apart?
Livvy followed me home in her car, and by the time we got there, all I wanted to do was curl up in a ball and cry myself to sleep. Livvy wouldn’t have it.
“You haven’t eaten lunch, have you?” she asked.
I looked at the clock. It was 12:30. I shook my head and noticed how Livvy brightened, as though glad to have something to do.
“Why don’t you lie down—I’ll have something ready in a jiffy.”
I didn’t have to be told twice. My head was pounding, my eyes felt like sandpaper, and my feet were so heavy. I lay down in the bed Paul and I used to share and stared at the door as tears came, again, and I searched for understanding,
again,
and found nothing.
A few minutes later, Livvy stood in the doorway and invited me into the kitchen. I didn’t want to go. I wasn’t hungry, but she’d worked so hard at it, so I slid into a chair at the table, glad she’d made a sandwich for herself as well so I wouldn’t be eating alone.
“Tuna with spinach leaves,” Livvy said as I lifted the top piece of bread from one of the sandwiches to inspect its contents. “I have anemia issues, especially when I’m pregnant, and this is what my OB called a lunch of champions. I ate it every day. It’s packed with protein and iron.”
I smiled at her as my stomach growled. “Thanks.” She must have found the spinach Paul used for his wilted spinach salad.
“So,” Livvy said after we’d each made our way through the first half of the sandwich. I was sure it was delicious, but I wasn’t really tasting anything. “Do you know what you’re having?”
“No,” I said. “I haven’t been to a doctor.” I paused. “Well, actually I went to a doctor this morning, but it didn’t work out.”
Her pale eyebrows pulled together. “What didn’t work out?”
“The doctor,” I said. “If it hadn’t happened to me, I would be sure it was a poorly written soap opera episode.”
“Really?” Livvy didn’t ask me to tell her about it, but I did. She had her hand over her mouth by the time I finished, her forehead wrinkled with shock.
Once she knew I had finished, she lowered her eyebrows and blinked her wide eyes at me. “That’s so awful,” she said. “You poor thing.”
I didn’t like the pity, even if I deserved it, so I took another bite of my sandwich.
“I bet you could turn him in to the medical board for that,” Livvy said. “That’s a horrible thing for him to have done.”
“I suppose I could,” I said, though I hadn’t even thought of it. “But I’m not sure I have the energy.”
“And you still need to go to a doctor,” Livvy summed up. “Paige said you were about fifteen weeks?”
“Closer to seventeen, I think, but I’m so big.” I framed my growing belly with my hands. “Maybe I’m further along than that.” I stared at my belly, the housing for this baby who had no idea the turmoil it brought with it. I looked up to see Livvy looking at me with an expression of longing on her face that made me feel horrible. Did she want more children too? And here I was the unappreciative brat.
“You make a cute pregnant woman,” Livvy said, startling me.
How could I be cute? I was a forty-six-year-old grandma.
“I don’t know about that,” I said, embarrassed and yet loving that someone had said something positive. I pulled at my purple top, the color represented empowerment and strength—for all the good it had done me. “Paul’s never liked me in purple,” I said, imagining how a few weeks ago he would have teased me about it. Now, he likely wouldn’t even see me wearing it. “He once called it a color for old ladies and little girls.” I laughed. It had been a joke, but saying it now made him sound sort of horrible. “It’s always been one of my favorite colors, though, so he’s learned to deal with it.”
It wasn’t until I stopped talking that I realized I might not have to deal with his complaints much longer. I hoped I was wrong and that he’d tease me about wearing purple again. Silence stretched between us, and I endeavored to change the subject. “How many children do you have, Livvy?” I knew she’d mentioned it during our first book group where we all introduced ourselves, but I couldn’t remember what she’d said. So much had happened since then.
“Four,” she said. “Of my own, at least. Nick has two kids from his first marriage, but they’re grown. His oldest has two kids of her own.”
“Oh, wow, you’re a grandma,” I said. She was younger than I was by at least five years. “You’re not old enough. Do you love it?”
“I think I
would
love it,” she said as her smile faded. “I don’t get to see them much. Nick has been a little . . . hard on his kids.” She shifted in her seat, and I sensed she’d said more than she wanted to. I liked talking about her life, though. It kept me from thinking about my own.
“Oh,” I said, wondering if Nick was hard on Livvy as well as on his kids. Maybe that was why she seemed so . . . mousy sometimes. I felt bad for the negative thought. The woman had dropped everything to rescue me and make me lunch.
“I’d have loved to have had more,” Livvy offered up, tearing off the crust from the remaining half of her sandwich. “Wasn’t in the cards for me, though.”
More guilt. I looked down at my plate and took another bite.
“It’s funny how that works, isn’t it?” she said.
I looked up at her and hurried to swallow. “What?”
“Pregnancy and babies. I can’t think of a single woman I know who has exactly what she wants in regards to that. It seems everyone wants more or fewer than what they have.”
I hadn’t ever thought of it that way, but it made me feel bad to be one of the women who wanted fewer than she had. Or
almost
had. “You enjoy being a mom, don’t you, Livvy?”
She smiled at me. “I do. Well, most of the time. The whole teenager thing is taking its toll on me, but I really do enjoy being their mom, even when they hate me.”
“I can’t imagine your kids hating you,” I said, thinking about Stormy and how difficult our relationship was right then. But I knew that was my fault. I didn’t imagine Livvy ever said things like I had said about Stormy.
“Oh,” she said with a laugh. “Trust me, they do. Just like I hated my mother, and my mother hated hers—at least for a while. Part of growing up, I suppose. Don’t you have a teenage daughter?”
“Yes, and an older one,” I said and gave her a brief recap of December and Stormy. She loved hearing about Tennyson, and then she told me about her kids, really lighting up when she spoke of them.
“So you’re a grandma, too,” she said. “We’re definitely too young to be running around with people calling us Grandma. I could have sworn I had to be collecting Social Security before getting that title.”
I laughed. She had such a way with words.
“You love your kids a whole lot,” I said.
“I do,” she said, nodding. “They’re my world.”
“I wish I were more like that,” I heard myself say. “I’m not sure I ever really enjoyed my kids the way I could have.”
“Then it must be exciting to have another chance,” Livvy said with a smile. “I sometimes think about what a better mother I would be now, as opposed to when I was in my twenties with so much growing up left to do.”
“That’s a good point,” I said, and it was. I hadn’t thought about how much more efficient I was in running a home these days. I felt a flicker of hope that surprised me. What if I was a better mother to this baby than I had been to my girls? How good a mother could I have been to December at seventeen? After talking to Mom last week, I’d realized how much I’d relied on her to take care of my baby. Stormy was different, and I could see that I was better in my role of mom with her, but I’d had a new marriage and financial issues, too. This baby would be different, and maybe not all those differences were bad.
“So, is your husband getting used to the idea?” Livvy asked.
Time to look at my plate again. I shook my head. “I’m not sure he’s going to stick it out.” After I said those words, I was shocked I’d been able to get them out of my mouth.
She was silent, and when I looked up at her, she was quickly blinking away tears. She tried to smile but Livvy wasn’t someone who hid her thoughts. “I’m sorry,” she said quietly. “No wonder this is so hard for you.”
I simply nodded. No wonder.
Livvy stayed until three o’clock, catching up on my laundry and mopping my kitchen floor while I took a nap. Before she left, she tapped on the door, and I got up long enough to give her a hug. She wasn’t as soft and powdered as Ruby, but she was a sincere hugger, even if I sensed she was a little uncomfortable. We barely knew one another, and yet suddenly she was exactly what I needed. She’d brought peace with her and let me talk about stuff that had smoothed me out somehow. I thanked her for coming and taking care of my home for me.
“It’s what I do,” she said, shrugging one shoulder. “I love it; it makes me feel connected to the people I care about.”
“My mom’s like that,” I said. “Always doing stuff for people.” Was that how she felt connected? Showed her love? Had I misinterpreted her all these years?
“Sounds like my kind of woman,” Livvy said, and a mask of sadness descended. I remembered what she’d said about losing her mother, and for an instant, I wondered if I would be so missed by my daughters. But I took it a step further. Was there time to repair our relationships? Was there time to make myself miss-able?
“Thank you,” I said, hoping that my sincerity was apparent. “I know it couldn’t have been easy for you to give up your entire afternoon, but I feel so much better. I was in a very dark place.”
“I know all about dark places,” Livvy said. “And it’s often someone else who needs to help you get out of it. I’m glad I could be that hand for you to grab on to. You call if you need anything at all, okay?”
“I will.”
“Promise?” she said, cocking her head to the side as though questioning my commitment.
I laughed, but tears filled my eyes at the same time. She cared about me. Genuinely cared. I had misjudged her as someone who’d lost herself in the people she loved, as though that were a bad thing. Reality was very different. I could learn a thing or two from this woman. “I promise.”
Paige had given me the name of the doctor she’d had for Nathan, Dr. Cortez, who had a practice in Mission Viejo. I made an appointment for the week between Christmas and New Year’s and told myself he wouldn’t be like Dr. Christiansen and that there was nothing to be afraid of. I’d put off telling December about the baby for too long, so I finally picked up the phone on Wednesday evening, three days before Christmas.
She was very quiet, and I felt myself slowly turning to stone as I waited for her response.
“Wow,” she finally said. The fatigue was thick in her voice, and I regretted, again, having to tell her this right now. “Um, congratulations.”
“Yeah,” I replied, playing with the zipper on my jacket. “Quite a shock.”
“Yeah,” she said back. “It’ll take some time to get used to the idea of having a sibling younger than my son.”
“I know,” I said. “It took me a while to wrap my head around it.”
“So, why didn’t you tell me when you were out here?” I hated that she sounded hurt. I hadn’t wanted to hurt her, but I felt as though one way or another I was hurting everyone.
“Things were so crazy, I just didn’t know how to bring it up.”
She was quiet, and I tried to dissect the silence into surprised, mad, or just tired, but couldn’t get a solid impression.
“Is Paul excited?”
“No,” I said honestly. We were living in the same house but avoiding one another. It was awful.
“Oh.”
“Yeah.”
“So, are you still able to come out after Christmas?”
I was the worst mother in the world. “I can’t,” I said. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t get tickets in time, and I have an appointment with a doctor next week. I’m hoping I can come out in January sometime, though. I’m sorry, Ember.”
We were both quiet for a few more seconds. I rescued us by asking about Tennyson, which lightened the mood. December said that Mom had left that morning, but Jared’s sister was able to come for the holiday and help out. She’d fly in tomorrow afternoon. The doctor had said they might be able to bring Tennyson home on Friday, Christmas Eve—wasn’t that wonderful?
After finishing the call, I didn’t give myself the chance to chicken out of calling my mother. I could admit I was hoping she was still traveling so I could leave a voice mail, but she’d just walked in and answered.
“I already guessed,” she said after I told her the news.
“Guessed?” I said with a jolt. “How could you have guessed?”
“A mother knows these things,” she said simply. “Now, have you been to the doctor yet? Are you taking your prenatal vitamins and drinking your raspberry leaf tea? There are considerations for a woman your age, you know.”
It was a relief when everyone finally knew, and even though Paul was still distant and avoiding me, I was lifted by the other people, whose support was in place.
I finally went Christmas shopping. I spent more than an hour trying to decide what to buy for Paul. I settled on a new bathrobe, a portable propane heater/stove for his camping and hunting trips, and an antique pewter picture frame. Not that I knew what to put in the frame. I stared at the stock photo of a couple on their wedding day with envy.
I wrapped the gifts for Stormy and Paul and left them on the kitchen table; we hadn’t bought a Christmas tree, and it seemed silly to do so now. I mailed December’s and my parents’ gifts, even though they wouldn’t get there in time for the holiday. I was making progress, though, and feeling stronger and more capable.
Paige and I talked only once, though she texted me now and then to check up on me. I was still embarrassed about my breakdown on Monday, and she didn’t seem to know what to do with me exactly, but I was glad that things had healed at least a little bit.
Paul continued to be a phantom. He worked at the office most of the time, and in the evenings he watched basketball, went to his brother’s house, or read a book. The living room had become his domain. By silent support of his secession, I spent a lot of time in Stormy’s room, waiting for him to come to me. Which he never did. Sometimes he cooked, and whenever he did, he made me a plate, for which I thanked him. I took it as a sign that we were still a team, sort of, but we didn’t eat together, and I missed him terribly despite him being within a dozen feet most of the time.
On December 23, “Christmas Adam,” as we called it, Paul came home to tell me he was going hunting with Charlie over Christmas Day.
I stared at him until he met my eyes. “It’s been two weeks,” I said. “We can’t dance around this forever.”
He was putting new batteries in the GPS I’d given him for our anniversary, so he looked at that while he talked—or didn’t talk, as it were.
“I’d rather have an answer than keep doing this, Paul. It’s killing me to be ignored by someone I care about so much.” I hated how vulnerable I felt saying that out loud.
He kept fiddling with the equipment until I put a hand over it. He stared at my hand for a few beats before looking me in the eye. He still didn’t say anything, so I did. “If you want me to leave, I’ll leave. But I can’t live like this. It’s killing me.”
We stared at one another for a full twenty seconds. “You don’t need to leave,” he said, and I felt a spark of hope sputter from the ashes in my chest. “I already am.”
The ashes sent up a plume of dust. “What?”
“I’ve talked to Charlie. After the hunting trip, I’m going to stay with him for a while. I need some space.”
“Space? That’s all you’ve had for the last two weeks. It’s time to face this head-on and make a decision.”
He lifted his chin and looked at me with a challenge in his blue eyes, which suddenly seemed so icy, so cold. “You don’t want me to make a decision right now, Daisy, I promise you that.”
“Oh?” I asked, folding my arms over my chest. “Maybe I do. I can’t live this way.”
Red splotches formed on his neck, something I’d never seen before, but then I’d never seen Paul get angry, and now anger was peeling off him in waves, crashing into me.
“This is not what I wanted,” he said. “I didn’t sign up for it.” His voice was rising, the timbre deepening at the same time.
“Neither did I,” I said. “But we made vows to one another, we promised to weather the storms together. Doesn’t that mean anything?”
“We had plans. And this changes everything.”
“I know that,” I shot back. “But it doesn’t have to
destroy
everything. Think of Mason and Stormy and all they’ve brought into our lives. This”—I put my hands on my belly—“is a child, one
we
created, and while I can sympathize with the shock and even the disappointment of everything it changes, it’s here, Paul. It’s a part of us.”
“I love Mason,” Paul said. “But she picks and chooses when to see me, and she comes only if I buy her something or take her somewhere. I’m not in her life—I have no power in her life—but I worry about the choices she makes and I feel ultimately responsible for her. She tied me to a woman I wish I’d never met, and I take very little satisfaction in being a father to her. Parenting was not what I thought it would be, Daisy, and I’ve always been grateful I only had one. I have been counting the days until Stormy got out of here, and since she’s left, it’s finally felt like I’m free to live the life I want to live. I thought you felt that way too.”
I’d never heard him say anything like this before. It took me a moment to recover and continue the dialogue. “I admit I’ve enjoyed the freedom too.” I was far too raw to lie about it. “But I also miss her, and a hundred times a day, I find myself going over the mistakes I made with her.”
“Another kid isn’t going to repair that,” Paul said.
Another zinger I hadn’t seen coming, but I stood my ground. “I know that,” I said sharply. “But it’s a part of us, and worth us trying to do better than we’ve done before.” I was still shaken by what he’d said about Mason. Was he really so burdened by his daughter? Is that why he didn’t fight for her to visit more often?
“I don’t want it,” he finally said, blunt and razor sharp at the same time. He continued to stare me down. Then he looked down at my stomach. “There are places that don’t care how long it’s been.”
“No!” I said boldly. “I’m having this baby, Paul. That’s not up for discussion. The only question is whether you’ll raise it with me.”
“And I told you that if you’re forcing a decision from me today, my answer is no. I don’t want to be a father again.”
“What about being a
husband
?” I said, holding back the tears as his words twisted inside me like shrapnel. “What about
me
?”
“You’re telling me that if I stay, you’re forcing a child on me. I’m telling you I don’t want it. Why is your choice more important than mine?”
“I’m not going to force this child on you, Paul. It wouldn’t be fair to either one of you.” My head was tingling. “But it’s still my choice to keep this baby. I’d rather do whatever we can to raise it together than do it by myself.”
I wanted to say more about his level of commitment, about him walking away and leaving this child fatherless. I wanted to beat him with my disappointment and share the agony I felt at his refusal to amend his future. But I didn’t. I was frozen and couldn’t utter another word, feeling the emotion I was holding back pressing against the dam. I couldn’t hold it back much longer.
He remained silent. After a few seconds, he gathered up his things and disappeared into the bedroom.
As my tears overflowed, I put a shaky hand over my mouth and ran into Stormy’s room, slamming the door. I sat on the bed, waiting for my heart to explode, but then realized, when the sobs didn’t come, when Paul didn’t come, that I had been watching my marriage crumble for weeks. Though his words cut and bruised me horribly, they weren’t as big a surprise as I’d have imagined them to be an hour ago. He’d been pushing me away ever since I’d told him. He hadn’t talked to me, he hadn’t asked how I was feeling or if I was going to the doctor. He’d simply retreated into himself. Maybe he was leaving
right now,
but he’d abandoned me two weeks ago.
I finally cried, but it wasn’t the wracking, heart-wrenching sobs I’d expected, but a drizzly mourning of what I thought our marriage was. I had been wrong all along. Paul didn’t want me as much as he wanted a specific kind of future. As soon as I threatened that future, I was a liability rather than an asset. I wondered what he’d have done if I’d been in a car accident, or been offered a promotion that required a move away from his comfort zone. Would he have supported me in either of those things, both of which would also have worked against his
plan
? It burned to realize I could be so wrong about the man I’d fallen in love with. Again.
At some point I fell asleep on Stormy’s bed. When I woke up, it was dark. The house was still. It was over. It was done. And while it was heartbreaking, at least I knew where I stood. I got up from the bed and considered my future, a huge, blank canvas waiting for my first few brushstrokes to begin a new image, to guide a new scene. I glanced at the clock radio on Stormy’s dresser.
It was 1:13 on Christmas Eve.
Merry Christmas.