Don't Explain (22 page)

The rest of the ride was silent except every couple of minutes Alexis
would shake her head and sigh, “What a bitch.” Caitlyn was relieved to drop
Alexis off at her house. Before she got out of the car, Alexis turned to
Caitlyn and questioned, “What are you going to do?”

Caitlyn just shrugged her shoulders. “Why didn’t you tell him?”

“It wouldn’t mean anything from me. He needs to hear it from someone he
cares about.”

“I don’t know if I am the best person for that job.”

“Well, obviously Margaret is, but that’s obviously not going to happen,
so it needs to be you. So, what are you going to do?”

“I don’t know.” Caitlyn looked distantly down the street. “But I’ll call
you when I know.”

 On the drive home all she could think about was that question. She was
unsure of the role she was to play, but she did come up with a vague idea of what
to do. She considered getting Margaret to trust her so that she would tell the
truth, but Caitlyn knew that their relationship had not reached that level and
probably never would. For a moment she feared that her distant attitude had
destroyed her plans to manipulate a way to ruin a relationship. This thought
was not comforting to her; it made her feel like the awful one.

Why did she have to do anything at all? When the baby did not come in
eight months, Michael would figure it out; he was a doctor after all. He should
understand how these things work, and based on her answer to Alexis's question
about the “duck bill,” she had a bit more reading to do if she was going to be
convincing.

At the same time, it appeared to Caitlyn that Margaret was trying to get
pregnant now, and if she succeeded, Michael would be in the same predicament
even if it was more complicated than before. He would not abandon his child;
therefore, he would not abandon Margaret. Her moment of enlightenment crushed
her hopes of this working itself out.

Caitlyn sighed with displeasure at herself and at the situation. She
pulled over to the nearest business, a drugstore, to collect herself. She was
not driving with any purpose and realized that she had no recollection of how
she had gotten from Alexis's house to this drugstore. She decided to wander
around inside for a while to regain some mindfulness and confidence in her ability
to drive.

The store was deserted, save a few chatty employees at the front register
and a young man stocking cold medicine. When Caitlyn entered the store, the
employees at the register looked at her, then at the clock, and back at her
again. The final look was a mixture of disappointment and anger for
interrupting their quiet evening so close to closing time. Caitlyn darted into
one of the aisles to avoid their stares. She looked around and found she was
surrounded by lubricants and condoms. Her cheeks flushed for a moment imagining
what the employees must be thinking but got over it when she saw the ovulation
strips. Her emotions immediately reverted to anger and frustration. She sat
down in the aisle and stared at the product, letting out a disgruntled sigh
every once and a while.

 “Can I help you find something?”

Caitlyn was shaken by the presence of another person and a little
embarrassed to be found on the floor. She turned to the young man who had
disrupted her thoughts and shook her head no. As he turned away, Caitlyn detected
a “she-must-be-crazy” vibe from his look. Regardless, she sat on the floor for
a few more moments perusing the shelves.

Her eye was caught by the section that contained pregnancy tests. She
could prove that Margaret was faking the pregnancy by making her take one and
showing it to Michael. She quickly stood up and grabbed one off of the shelf.
She stared at the box as though she expected it to give her all of the answers
she sought if she read it carefully enough. Instead she realized that showing a
negative pregnancy test to Michael would prove nothing except that she could pee
on a stick. She put it back and headed toward the door.

Figuring she should buy something to justify her time in the store, she
grabbed a box of tampons on her way out of the aisle. Sloth-like, she dragged
herself toward the critical eyes of the women at the front. They couldn't fault
her for buying tampons this late. Before she was able to reach their station,
she turned back and grabbed the coveted item. She set before the cashier two
boxes, a two-pack pregnancy test and tampons. The cashier looked at her with
one raised eyebrow.

Thinking about the next day’s events caused Caitlyn to toss and turn all
night.  She didn't let her alarm go off that morning, and she was ready and off
to work particularly early.

She made herself a double-shot latte when she got to work. She threw
herself into baking to keep her thoughts at bay. The more time she spent in her
head, the slower time crawled through the morning. After the muffins were
finished, she attacked a batch of cinnamon rolls. A powerful, sweet smell emanated
from the little shop and began signaling the new regulars that she was ready
for them. Caitlyn made their orders, her hair a mess and her apron and cheeks covered
in flour. Despite her being disheveled, several customers told her how vibrant
she looked that day. She felt a bit ashamed that she looked vibrant because she
was going to destroy her nemesis. But what were nemeses for if not destroying?

She was so completely distracted by her thoughts and her work that she did
not stop to properly greet Michael and Margaret who had come into the coffee shop,
ordered, and received their beverages from her. When she finally slowed her
pace and looked around the shop, she noticed the pair staring at her with a
third chair meant to beckon her over when she was available. Feeling as though
she could not ignore its call, she headed toward them, her forced civility
accompanied by a smile.

“Hey guys. I'm sorry. I was working so hard I barely noticed that you
came in.”

Michael stared at her unconvinced. “So, when you said that you would have
dinner with us tomorrow?”

“Did I say that? I was agreeing to everything. It's kind of what you do
in the service business. That does not, however, mean that I won't join you.”
Service with a smile; she was managing her true feelings much better than
before.

“Looks like business has really picked up.”

Caitlyn couldn’t help but give him a huge smile. “It really has. I sold
$3,000 worth of food and beverages last week? Can you believe that? Two weeks
ago I was lucky to bring in $30.” She was really proud of herself. At least
this aspect of her life fell in to place, and soon everything else would too.

The MIDI sound of “Ode to Joy” vibrated out of Michael's pocket putting a
disappointed look on his face. He stared at Caitlyn suspiciously then glanced
at his phone. “It's St. Vincent’s,” he started with a vexing look in Caitlyn's
direction. “I need to take this. I'll be right back.” He answered the phone and
headed out of the coffee shop glancing back once nervously at the women sitting
across from one another. She was happy that his practice was starting to get
off the ground; she was even happier that she was given a moment alone with
Margaret.

“So how do you feel?” Caitlyn implored sweetly.

“I’ve felt better. I had hoped the tea would help settle my stomach, but
no such luck. Do you have any of that specialty pregnancy tea? I used to get it
in Sacramento, but I haven’t found it here yet.” Margaret’s voice lacked its
normal animated tone, and she didn’t look like her normal self that morning.
Her face was pale, and she had the beginning of dark circles under her eyes.

“You know,” Caitlyn said as sweetly as she possibly could manage, “I don't.
I should really order some for you though.” She paused deciding her next move. “So
that when you really are pregnant, it will be available.” Caitlyn didn't know
how this was going to go over; she assumed the worst. She was right.

“Excuse me? Why would you say that to me?” She spoke quietly and quickly.

“I saw the ovulation strips.”

 Margaret looked down at her lap when she heard this and frowned. Caitlyn
tried to remain calm, but the anxiety was building in her.

“Those were old.” Margaret refused to look up at Caitlyn. She was lying,
and not particularly well.

“That’s crap, and you know it.” Caitlyn was proud of herself. She knew
that she had become more straight forward in the past few years, but she had
never stood up to a challenge like this one before. This gave her the drive to
push forward and her anxiety was beginning to melt away. She was right about
Margaret. “You had them out and ready to use. If they were old, they wouldn't
be out, and you certainly wouldn't have brought them from California. Admit it:
you're not pregnant.”

“I am so,” whimpered the two-year-old inside Margaret.

“Prove it then.” Caitlyn stood up, went to the cashier's counter, and
grabbed a plastic bag. She returned to Margaret and set the bag on the table.
Margaret's eyes were set on the bag, but she had yet to look at Caitlyn again. “In
this bag is a pregnancy test. You can take it and prove to me that you are
pregnant, or I can tell Michael that I think you are faking the pregnancy and
you will have to do the same for him later. Either way, you're going to have to
prove that you're actually pregnant.”

There was a brief silence followed by Margaret's confession. “I
was
pregnant…” She looked up; tears were rolling down her cheeks. “But… but… I lost
the baby right after I got here, and I didn't have the heart to tell Michael. I
figured no one would notice if the baby was a little late. He's been so wonderful
about the whole thing. I couldn't not produce a child for him. It must have
been the stress of the move. There was too much going on. I exhausted myself,
and I think that I lost the baby because of it. I told Michael that we shouldn't
move, that we should just tell them to bring our stuff back to Sacramento, but
he insisted on staying.” Pools continued to form in the corners of her eyes,
and her face turned a pinkish hue. She looked more embarrassed than sad.

Caitlyn was stunned, and she suddenly felt bad for Margaret. She wasn't
proud of what she did next, but this was the opportunity she had been waiting
for. It was the chance to crush her
bête noire
, and she took it. “You
can tell him the truth or I can. It's your choice.” Her voice was all
seriousness and showed a lack of concern for Margaret's feelings, and it made
her feel a little sick.

Wiping her tear-stained cheeks with the back of her hand, Margaret stared
unbelievingly at Caitlyn. “I can't. He'll throw me out.”

“He has to know. He would have figured it out eventually. It will be
better for you if you tell him now.”

The bell rang on the door to the shop, and Michael reappeared. When he
saw that neither woman was smiling, concern crossed his face. “What’s going
on?” he asked.

Margaret gulped and just shook her head.

Caitlyn tightly clutched the plastic bag that Margaret had flung into her
lap under the table. “Nothing. We’re not doing anything.”

The regulars began to leave and, though cordial in their words, stared uneasily
at the trio. Caitlyn felt her face flush when she realized that she hadn’t been
as discreet as she had planned. “Wow. A lot of people are leaving. I gotta go
clean up. I’ll talk to you guys later.” She quickly stood up and headed to the
kitchen. When she got there, she sat on the floor exhausted from her
confrontation, ashamed by her behavior, and worried that she had only made
things worse.

#

She sat by the phone all night expecting that coveted phone call from
Michael. She glanced out her front window anytime she saw something out of the
corner of her eye, thinking it might be him. To Caitlyn's disappointment, he
neither called nor appeared that evening. How could this be? Another sleepless
night passed, and instead of being invigorated in the morning as she had been
the previous day, she was exhausted and had to drag herself through her morning
routine. The second hand on the clock in the coffee shop seemed to tick by at half
its normal rate, and Caitlyn even changed the batteries in it to make sure it
wasn't running slow.

Caitlyn poured through the possibilities of what took place between Michael
and Margaret the day before, and nothing she could come up with explained the
outcome. She had neither seen nor heard from Michael since yesterday morning. It
did not make sense that Margaret wouldn't tell him knowing that Caitlyn would,
but if she did tell him, he would certainly have come to see her.

Another shot of espresso dripped into the two ounce glass. A brown sugar
cube dissolved quickly into the hot liquid, and in one gulp it was gone. The
burn in Caitlyn's mouth and throat went unnoticed until later. While she
thought that this was an appropriate method of soothing her tired eyes, twisted
stomach, and anxious heart, it made her eyes water, her stomach ache, and her
heart race.

Six shots of espresso and four mochaccinos later, it was time to close
the shop and find out what happened. She rushed through her chores and left
thirty minutes earlier than she usually did.

As far as she knew, she was still expected for dinner at Margaret and
Michael’s. The drive to Michael's was reckless at best, but Caitlyn made it,
untouched by another vehicle or a tree trunk. The length of the driveway
annoyed her, and she almost hit Sam who ran excitedly next to her car.