Wet (19 page)

“Please be careful, son,” Dad says.

I nod and then Ma steps up and hugs me tightly. I can’t read the hug: is it tinged with worry, protective urges, pride or disappointment? Perhaps it’s a mix of them all.

The following week we’re back at In-N-Out because Elle has a craving. She must be very brave to eat another Double-Double so soon after the last one’s untimely ending. With each bite she moans, closes her eyes, and smiles so it seems like things are going well. Honestly, watching her eat that burger is the closest thing to watching porn but everyone’s clothes are still on.

When she finishes it she elaborately licks each finger, and I keep having to look away.

“What?” she asks before pressing a napkin over her lips to blot the ketchup that remains.

“Oh nothing.”

“Then why do you look uncomfortable?”

“Do you always moan that much when you eat?”

Her cheeks immediately blush pink. “Was I that loud?”

“Uh huh. That would have made a great sex scene soundtrack.”

“Oh no! I’m horrified.”

“Don’t be. It was hot. I’m sure every man within hearing distance of our table has a hard-on right now.”

Her eyes grow wide. “Do you?”

“What do you think?”

She sits back in her seat. “Well, at least I’ve still got it. I thought men didn’t find pregnant woman sexy.”

“Oh, that’s so 1950. I’ve seen some very sexy pregnant women. ”

“Like who?”

“Well, you for one.”

“Really? Be honest now, you just lust after my big boobs. Besides, I don’t even look pregnant yet. Let’s see how you feel when my belly gets round.”

“Will you let me touch it?”

“My voluptuous chest?”

“No. Your round belly.”

“Sure. Anytime.” She pats her tummy gently and smiles.

“Paul?”

I glance over to see my sister’s friend, Holly, holding a tray and standing at the edge of our table.

Awkward.
I wonder how much of that conversation she overheard.

“Hey, Holly. Long time no see.”

She glances at Elle. “Is this your girlfriend?”

While I’m thinking of an equally rude and invasive retort, Elle jumps in. “No, we’re just good friends. I’m Elle by the way.” She gives Holly a little wave.

“Hi there. I was just wondering because Paul never returned my call about coming with me to the reunion next month.”

“But you weren’t even in my class. Why would I go to that reunion?”

“Because you promised me when you wouldn’t go to the prom with me that you’d make it up to me one day.”

I bite the inside of my cheek so I don’t laugh out loud. “Surely you didn’t think I meant that?”

“So you were lying?”

“Absolutely. I really didn’t want to go to the prom.”

I leave out the ‘with you’ part.

I see Elle’s eyes twinkle as she takes a sip of her shake. She’s enjoying this way too much.

“I think you should go to the reunion with Holly,” Elle says.

Traitor!

How could she do this to me after I volunteer to be her baby’s uncle?

Holly lets out a little “Woo-hoo!” and with the way that the other patrons are staring at us, I’m feeling like our booth has become the center of the In-N-Out universe.
Can we leave now?
Don’t get me wrong, Holly is actually quite attractive, but the girl never shuts up and I’m pretty sure I’ve never heard her discuss a single thing that was of interest to me.

“Hollyeee,” we hear some chick screech from across the bright white expanse of booths and mini-tables.

Holly waves at her Neanderthal friend who yells across restaurants. “I’ve got to scooch. I’ll call you, Paul. And great to meet you, Elle!”

And a second later she’s gone.

I squint my eyes and shake my head. “Scooch?”

Elle shrugs. “Does that mean to go somewhere?”

“It sounds like that thing dogs do when they drag their butts along the ground. I actually could see her doing that.”

She nods. “It’s such an ugly word.”

“And can you tell me what I did to you to make you do something so hateful to me?”

Her expression falls instantly from amused to mournful. “Hateful?”

“Enlisting me in reunion hell.”

“Oh, listen to you! You make it sound like torture.”

“I promise you, it would be if I went. And I’m not going.”

“I know you aren’t going.” She has a sly grin that makes me smile.

“So you were lying to her.”

“Of course, what else would get her to shut up and leave us alone? You’re with me, and she has a lot of nerve coming over here and fawning all over you.”

She’s jealous.
The idea of this makes me unbelievable happy.

“Oh man, I love you!” I say, and then grit my teeth. Did I really just use the big L word like some lovestruck pussy boy? “I mean, I love that you did that,” I correct quickly.

She takes a sip of her shake and nods. “She
is
pretty in a
‘trying way too hard’
kind of way, but she’s not for you.”

“Who
is
for me?”

You, you, you . . .
my brain whispers on autopilot.

She gets a faraway look in her eyes. “We’ll see.”

We’re at Elle’s house curled up on the couch in our third attempt for her to stay awake long enough to watch
Baby Boom
with Dianne Keaton. My sister shocked me by loaning me the DVD two Thursdays ago after family dinner night. She shoved it at me while I was leaving.

“Here, watch this with Elle.”

I held up the DVD case and studied it. “What’s it about?” Although with the name
Baby Boom
, I was pretty sure it wasn’t a
Star Wars
kind of flick.

“She’s a career woman who suddenly has to take care of a baby. And you remind me a lot of the Sam Shepard character.”

“Is he an asshole, or something?” I ask since she always seems to have the lowest opinion of me.

“Nah. The opposite really. He’s calm and steady and just naturally looks out for her . . . like you’re trying to do for Elle. I really like his character.”

I stop and turn around, realizing this is a moment I need to pay attention to. They come so few and far between. “So are you saying I’m a good guy, Trisha?”

“Maybe,” she mutters, glancing down and twisting her watch around her wrist.

“And are you saying that you like me?”

She looks like she’s holding a hot plate in her hands and has nowhere to set it down. “Well, I wouldn’t go that far.”

I nod and open the front door.

She clears her throat. “Well, maybe just a little bit.”

I let out a low laugh and give her an awkward hug. “Well, whatever you’re saying . . . thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”

I’m a few steps into the walkway when Trisha calls out to me. “Hey Paul?”

“Yeah.”

“I’m really am proud of you for how you’re helping Elle.”

I gaze at her intently and the corners of my mouth edge up as I nod. “Thanks, Trisha.”

So Elle and I are watching the movie and are at the part where Sam Shepard meets Dianne in his veterinary practice in rural Connecticut. Elle suddenly turns to me.

“Tell me about your work.”

“Okay. What would you like to know?”

“Do you enjoy it?”

“Most of the time. I love the creative part where I’m envisioning the design, and the thrill of creating something people will see and appreciate. I’m still one of the mid-level men on the design team so far, but I plan to work my way up.”

“I’m sure you will.”

I appreciate her blind faith in my ability.

“You know, like any work, there’s stuff I can’t stand about it: difficult clients, boring status meetings, budget cuts mid-way through projects.”

“That sounds like my job.”

“So then, what do you like about your work?”

“I think it’s the challenge of pulling off events when there are so many ways things can go wrong. I like the strategy of figuring out a game-plan, and I have really good vendors I’ve developed relationships with. I love the adrenalin when the event starts and we’re all amped up . . . showtime!”

“It does sound a bit like live theater,” I say.

“It is in some ways. My busy season is going to start soon. Which reminds me . . . I think I’m going to have to shop for new business clothes already. All those Double-Doubles caught up with me. My pencil skirts are too tight.”

“Well you’ve been eating for two. Are there pregnant clothes for career women?”

She grins. “You mean maternity clothes? I’m not sure, but wearing those ugly slacks with the expanding waistline is a hard limit for me. I’m going to try to buy regular clothes, just bigger for now.”

“Promise me that you aren’t one of those women that goes out wearing a skin-tight knit dress in her last months where you can see the baby kicking—the thing is so revealing. I really don’t need to see that from total strangers.”

“No one does. I promise I won’t do that.”

“Thank you.”

She lets out a long yawn. “You sleepy?”

“Yeah, always these days. I’m lucky that it’s been my slow time at work since I’m so tired all the time.”

“So what’s your busy season like?” I feel a surge of worry that it’s going to sound like too much in her condition.

“Long hours, lots of stress. I have no idea how I’m going to get through it without my coffee.”

“So you really stopped drinking coffee? I’m impressed” She looked at me like I was nuts when I first told her she should wean herself off of it. Luckily her doctor re-confirmed what I said.

“Oh man. It was rough. Good thing you didn’t see me those first few mornings. I miss the coffee a lot more than the booze. Nine months is a long time.”

“It is, but you’re being strong for the baby. See, you’re already a good mom.”

She leans her head on my shoulder and smiles. “I guess you’re right. I want to be a good mom, Paul . . . more than anything.”

“And so you will be.”

Chapter Eleven

THE HOT SEAT

“A
re you really sure about this Paul? Really? Oh my God, I’m freaking out.”

Parking in front of my parent’s house, I turn toward her. “Why are you freaking out?”

“Your parents are very traditional people. They must think very poorly of me for being in this situation.”

“Well, I’m not going to lie and say they think it’s great that you are having a baby without a husband, but they respect the fact that you are doing the best you can. We talked about it. They’ve always liked you, and they still do.”

“How do they feel about you . . . well, you know, helping me so much . . . and being ‘the uncle’?”

I grip the steering wheel as I try to think of what to say so that she isn’t uncomfortable. She could easily take what I say the wrong way and I don’t want to upset her. “They want to make sure I’m helping you for the right reasons.”

“Are you? I mean, I think you are, but only you can say for sure.”

I nod. “I am.”

“But they’re still worried, aren’t they?”

“Maybe a little.”

“That I’m taking advantage of you?”

I point to the house. “Hey, what do you say we shelve this deep-feely stuff for now and go chow down? I swear they’re going to be nice to you. They really like you.”

She folds her arms over her ample chest and side-eyes me. “Okay, I’ll agree because I’m famished. So you get a break now, but we’re discussing this later.”

When we get out of the car she retrieves the dessert she baked from the backseat.

“So is that your apple pie?” I ask, my mouth already watering.

“No, this time I made strawberry cheesecake.”

My eyebrows arch and let out a low whistle. “See there, we haven’t even finished the first quarter and you’re already ahead in the game.”

“Oh my goodness gracious!” Ma exclaims as she clasps her hands over her heart. Her cheeks are pink and she looks positively blissful. “You shouldn’t have, Elle! You should be resting, not baking.”

Ma really should’ve been an opera singer. She’s so theatrical with her booming voice and dramatic gestures.

“But baking is relaxing to me, Mrs. McNeill. Besides, Paul told me strawberries are your favorite.”

“They are indeed. Come in, come in, and call me Millie, lass.”