Neighbors (14 page)

Twenty-Three

Because my shirt had gotten wet,
Dylan lets me wear his home. Gretta gave me a plastic bag to bring my wet things home in.

As I hang them over the shower bar, he st
ands in the doorway, watching me as I stretch up.

“You really do look better in my shirts than I do.”

“Oh you think so?” I turn and ask with a playful tease. “I don’t think so.” I pull the shirt off. “In fact, I don’t think I like these shorts either.” And I wiggle my pants down past my knees. I step out of them and stand before Dylan in just my lacy pink underwear.

“You know I can
’t stay away from you, right?” he asks as if to warn me.

I
flash him a devilish smile. “I know.” And then we replay what we did in the pool, but without the water.

T
he next day, I’m off from work but Dylan isn’t. His warm lips brush my cheek before he gets out of the bed. He tries not to make a sound as he gets dressed and leaves. I opt to go back to sleep for another two hours.

When I wake up, my head
is swirling. I run to the bathroom and before I can brush my teeth, I throw up what remained of the dinner Gretta had made the night before. Taking a seat on the side of the tub, I rub a wet washcloth over my face and wait for a second urge to vomit to pass.
Oh no, food poisoning
. I climb back into bed and close my eyes.

I
wake with a start at eleven o’clock. When I sit up, the room is still. I get dressed, make the bed, and go downstairs to make breakfast. Scrambling some eggs, I sit at the table and begin eating without realizing I have nothing to drink to wash it down. Mid-way through the eggs, I get up to make coffee. As the coffee maker goes through the motions, I collect the sugar bowl from the cabinet and then head to the refrigerator for the milk. When I open the container the wave of nausea returns.
Hmm, the milk must be bad.
I dump it down the sink and make a mental note to pick up some more when I go out.

I
wait impatiently for the coffee pot to finish and pour the liquid into a thermos and place it in the fridge. Iced coffee will be just as good later. Then I opt for a glass of orange juice. I return to my eggs, but find it isn’t enough. I’m still hungry. I cook another two.

After cleaning
my breakfast dishes, I find my purse and walk the five blocks to the supermarket. When I come home, I put the few things I bought away and lay out on the couch. I wake up when Dylan walks through the door.

“Hey, sleepy.” He kisses
the top of my head.

I pry my eyes open
. “What time is it?” I ask, stretching my arms out. The days are getting shorter and it gets dark earlier now.

“S
ix o’clock.”

“I didn’t realize how tired I was. I think I had food poisoning
this morning from last night’s meal.”

“Impossible. Gretta is the best cook on the face of the planet. I’ve never had a bad meal. I wasn’t sick. Maybe you ate something wrong this morning.”

I think about it. “No, I didn’t wake up until eleven-thirty. Then I ate half the carton of eggs. I had to go to the store to buy more, and a container of milk. The one that was in the fridge went bad.”

“Really? I just bought that two days ago,”
Dylan says. “Whatever. Say, want to grab some pizza?”

“Sure.”
Suddenly, I realize I’m famished.

After three slices of pizza, a new record for me, I’m tired again. I put my pajamas on and fa
ll asleep by nine o’clock.

The
next morning, Dylan kisses me on the cheek again and gets ready for work. As he’s dressing an urgent feeling causes me to run to the bathroom, where I purge what is left of the pizza. I take my place on the edge of the tub and get reacquainted with my new friend, the washcloth. As I wait for the room to stop spinning, panic fills me.
Uh oh, this isn’t food poisoning.

“You okay, Mel?”
Dylan asks through the door.

“Um, yeah. I’m fin
e. Just brushing my teeth.” I run the water to convince him.

“I’ve got t
o go. I’ll see you later, okay?”

“Okay. I have some errands to run today, so I’ll be out most of the day.”

“Kay.”

I do
n’t open the bathroom door until I hear him drive away. I shove my head and arms into a sweatshirt and pull some jeans up over my hips. I don’t even look to see if the socks match as I push my feet into my sneakers. I race down the stairs, grab my purse, and get into my car.

My fingers
drum nervously on the steering wheel as I wait for the traffic light to change color. I barely let the girl unlock the door to the CVS as I sprint toward the pharmacy section. I scan the shelves for the small pink boxes. I pull one off the shelf, race to the cashier, and throw it on the counter with a twenty-dollar bill.

The cashier
glares at me as she hands me my change. “Good luck,” she says.

“Huh?”

“Good luck. I hope you get the result you want.”

“Thanks.” I
snatch the package and race back home. Of course I don’t have to pee. I guzzle three bottles of water and run the faucet to persuade my body to want to urinate. Finally, I feel the urge. Then I wait.

It’
s the longest three minutes of my life.

* * *

Dylan comes home at six. I had cooked a chicken meal and it’s ready when he walks in the door. His arms circle my waist and he kisses me like he hasn’t seen me in years. “I missed you.”

I pull
back. “Come eat your dinner before it gets cold.”

He washes
his hands and sits down as I serve.

“A
re you feeling better?” he asks.

“What?”
I try to mask the panic in my voice.

“
The past two mornings you haven’t been feeling well. Do you still have food poisoning?”

“Um, no. It wasn’t food poisoning.”

“I hope you didn’t catch something. A few of the guys have been out with some kind of flu thing.” He begins to eat his dinner, but I can’t even look at food.

“I’m going back to work tomorrow. I’ll have one of the doc
tors check me out.”

The little voice in
my head says,
You can’t tell him, at least not until you’re sure.

I fight
to keep my eyes open again, but can’t make it past nine thirty.

Twenty-Four

“Gladys, I need your help.”

“Sure, baby. What can I do for you?”

I lower
my voice. “Gladys, I’m pregnant.”

Her face
lights up and a huge smile takes the place of her usually stern mouth.

“I took a test, but you know they aren’t a hundred percent.”

“They’re good enough. Ninety-nine point nine percent accurate.”

I t
ell her about my last two days and the recurrence of nausea this morning.

“I’ll call Dr. Mankoff to see if she can squeeze you in today.”

“Thanks, Gladys.”

I try
to concentrate on my caseload, which of course has two pregnant women and a mother of an infant, all within the first three hours of my shift.

Dr. Mankoff agrees to see me on my lunch break. She dra
ws blood and examines me.

“You certainly have some of the symptoms of early pregnancy. I’ll have the lab put a rush on the blood work and call you tomorrow.”

“Thank you, doctor. I appreciate it.”

“In the meanwhile, take it easy.”

“Okay, I’ll try.”

* * *

Over the next twenty-four hours I’m on edge.

Dylan
walks in his usual time and I have a light meal ready. I don’t want to take the chance of getting sick in front of him, and having him concerned - not until I know for sure. And, I won’t say anything until I hear back from Dr. Mankoff. The questions begin to tumble in my head.
What if he doesn’t want children? What if he thinks I’m trying to trap him? What if he isn’t ready? Am I ready? What do
I
want? What if he gets angry and doesn’t want to be with me any more?

“You’re very quiet,”
Dylan says across the table.

“Sorry. It was a crazy day.”

“Want to talk about it?” His expression is inviting.

I shake
my head. “Tell me about your day, instead.”

He share
s the challenges he faced with the roof of his newest project. As he talks I watch his mouth. I imagine his full lips on mine and his warm, muscular arms wrapped around me. Thoughts of his temperate skin against mine cause me to breath heavy. I can only think of one thing:
I want him.

“Melissa,
are you all right?” The trance is broken. I look into his eyes.

“I’m sorry. I wa
s just thinking about…” I lean over the table and my lips connect with his. He doesn’t protest and I pull him to the floor. Clawing at his clothes, I heave his shirt off. My hands fumble on the waistband of his pants. I can’t get them off fast enough. His expression is mixed with wantonness and confusion. I don’t care. I need him. I have to have him. He’s on the kitchen floor in just his briefs. I stare at him with hungry eyes, like a lioness that’s thrown a steak. I pull what’s left of his clothes from his body.

Without permission I seize
him in my hand. Still in shock from my assertiveness, his body hasn’t caught up with my thoughts but he’s not far behind. I look at him with voracity and run my tongue over my lips. As I bend my head, my hair cascades over my face, causing a veil between us. His back arches off the floor as I take him in my mouth. His half-readiness changes so that there’s no doubt in my mind that he wants what I do. His eyes close and his head rolls back. A moan flows from him.

Once he’s ready enough, I stop. His eyes fly open. He lifts his head with co
nfusion, but relaxes when he sees that I’m taking my clothes off. He doesn’t protest as I mount him. Trailing light kisses on his chest I feel his erection underneath me, wanting me, needing me as much as I need him. Taking control of him again, I place him where I want him. His eyes are on me. I lower myself and take him. It feels heavenly as I absorb all he has to give.

My hips flex and I ride him,
slowly at first. Then I increase the speed as I build. His breathing is heavy, but it’s so hot. I want him more. And I take it. His body is almost convulsing, but he holds steady until I’m done. He doesn’t release until I scream out and let go around him.

I roll off of him and lie next to his heaving body.

“Whoa! I don’t know what kind of day you had today, but do you think you could repeat it tomorrow?”

T
ears pour from me. “I’m so sorry. I don’t know what happened. I…I just…I needed you. It was like my body took over without checking with my head.”

Dylan
rolls to face me. He places his arms around my sobbing body. “It’s okay. I loved it. It was very erotic.” He kisses me and holds me as we lay on the kitchen floor without another word. Several minutes pass before he says, “Go take a shower. I’ll clean up from dinner.”

When
Dylan is done in the kitchen, he showers, but I’m fast asleep when he gets out.

* * *

The next morning, I wake before Dylan. I take care of everything I have to in the bathroom, including controlling the morning sickness with a handful of saltines I hid in the bandage box the night before. As I get dressed, I rub my stomach.
What if it’s true? What am I going to do?
I look at my reflection, but she’s useless. She doesn’t have an answer for me. I pull my hair back into a ponytail and walk out of the bathroom. Dylan kisses me gently as he passes me on his way in.

Realizing that bread has become my new friend to combat nausea, I put some raspberry preserves on a couple of pieces of toast and I wash them down with a large glass of orange juice. Dylan walks into the kitchen as I’m putting my dishes in the sink.

“Done so fast?” he asks.

“I have to meet with one of the doctors before my shift this morning.” Dylan looks at me with curiosity. “It’s about one of my patients from the other day. She had a procedure done and I just want to make sure she’s okay.” I hate lying to him, but I can’t tell him yet. Not until I know for sure.

When I get to work, I leave a message with Dr. Mankoff’s office letting them know that I’m in the ER.

Later in the day,
Dr. Mankoff stops at the nurse’s station and asks for me. I’m behind the curtain with Mrs. Anderson. I excuse myself and greet her. I motion toward the staff lounge. It’s empty and I close the door behind us.

“Well, it’s official. Y
ou’re pregnant, Melissa.”

Shock washes over me as I
absent-mindedly lower myself onto the couch, although I don’t know why. I figured this would be the news she was coming to tell me. Gladys is right. Those tests are ninety-nine point nine percent accurate. Dr. Mankoff reviewed the options we talked about the day before during the exam.

“Now you have to decide if you want to move forward with th
e pregnancy.” Dr. Mankoff waits for an answer. “You know the faster you make the decision, the easier it will be. If you decide not to keep the baby, I can schedule you for Thursday at the earliest. If you are moving forward, I want you to fill this script for pre-natal vitamins and come to see me in four weeks.” She hands me the small paper with her signature. Then she stands. “Go home and talk about it with your husband. I’m sure the two of you will make the right decision.” She leaves and I’m alone with this heavy news.

Happiness fills me as my hand rests on my stomach. I’m going to be a mother. It’s so surreal. I think of little clothes and
the smell of powder. Dr. Mankoff’s words repeat in my head…“Fill this script for pre-natal vitamins…talk about it with your husband.”
My husband? Crap! If Dylan doesn’t want this, I’ll be a single parent, without him. Now what do I do?
Nice going, Ace!

A light knock
breaks my concentration. “Come in.” I barely get the words out.

Gladys pokes
her head in. “You okay?” The door doesn’t hide her full-figure.

I motion
for her to sit next to me on the couch. She turns and makes sure the door is closed behind her.

“Gladys, I don’t know what to do.”

“I think you should talk to Dylan. Don’t make a decision until you know how he feels.” She pats my hand, and doesn’t say a word as I cry. She waits with me until I have my emotions under better control.

“I need to get back out there
,” she says, squeezing my hand. “They can’t be down two nurses. Take your time in here, I’ve got you covered.” She hands me the box of tissues from the side table.

I nod
. When she’s gone, I cry for another fifteen minutes – both happy tears and tears of anxiety - before I compose myself. I stand, straighten my uniform, and lift my head before going back out to the ER, hoping to get lost in other people’s medical conditions.

The phone ri
ngs and Gladys answers. “Sure, she’s right here. Hold on.” She holds the phone up to her chest. “Dylan.”

I take
the phone from her with caution. Gladys gets up to pretend to look for some kind of medical instrument so that I can have some privacy. She’s so good to me.

“Hey, beautiful. How about we go out for dinner tonight? I have some good news.”

I force a smile. “Sure.”

“Great. I’ll meet you at home and then we have reservations for seven. Does that work for you?”

“Yes.” My voice is weak.

I stay
on my shift until five, pretending to be busy, even though I’ve checked and re-checked all of my paper work three times. Even a phone call to Tracy doesn’t fill up time.

“
Dylan and I are going for dinner tonight.”

“That sounds great, but
I bet you can’t wait until dessert.” Her implied suggestion makes me smile with irony. It’s not that I don’t appreciate Tracy’s positive outlook, it’s that I think that I’ll have to move in with her once Dylan tells me he doesn’t want to see me ever again.

“Tracy, it isn’t all about sex.”

“When a man as fine as Dylan is in your life, sex is all it should be about.”

“Stop it,
” I snap.

“
Relax, Mel. You know I’m only joking with you. Sheesh! When did you get so touchy? I know he’s a great guy. He’s good to you and he loves you.”

“You think?”

“You can tell by the way he is with you. Trust me, we all want a guy like Dylan. He’s the total package: looks, smarts, and I’m assuming great in bed.” She giggles. “I’d say you hit the jackpot.” I hear Tracy’s boss yelling at someone in the background. “Uh, gotta go. Boss is comin’. Talk to you later.” She hangs up before I can say good-bye to her or ask her advice on what I should do.

You shouldn’t tell her before you tell Dylan
,
I scold myself. And, I’m right.

With some reluctance, I go home and shower. As I pass the soap over my body, I take extra care along my mid-section. I imagine myself with a big belly, waddling to the ice cream store, then pushing a carriage and changing diapers as I shove pizza in my mouth. My smile melts when I think about Dylan’s reaction.
Will he think I did it on purpose to trap him? I don’t even know if he wants children; we never talked about the future. We haven’t known each other that long and we only just moved in together. Will I have to move out now? Where will I go? Joe’s house is rented. I can’t ask the cute couple who just came back from their honeymoon to leave. Besides, I wouldn’t be able to live across the street from Dylan.
The thought of staying with Tracy revisits my mind.
Can I be without him? No, I don’t think so
.
Tell him tonight
.
That way, if you have to start looking for a new place to live, you can do before you get too big.

I put on my favorite pink sweater and a
nice pair of black slacks and sit on the couch, watching television to distract myself. It doesn’t work.

Dylan
walks in at six. “I just want to take a quick shower, okay?”

“Okay.”

While I hear the water running, I practice all of the different ways to break the news to him, but my thoughts halt when the water stops.

I listen to the
events of Dylan’s day as we drive to his favorite seafood restaurant. We’re seated immediately. The waiter takes our order.

Since my
nerves are frazzled, I have to steady my hands several times when I pick up my water goblet. Dylan eats three slices of bread while he makes small talk. I can’t take it anymore. The anticipation is killing me.

“So, what
is this fabulous news?” I ask, trying to get the ball rolling. I don’t want to ruin the evening, yet.

He wiggles
in his seat across from me, like a young child with a secret to tell. His eyes light up and his smile is huge.  Both dimples are there.  “Jack offered me a partnership.”