It’s a Friday night at ten pm and I am currently sweating with my arms over my head and dancing with a stranger.
It’s the third weekend in a row that Willa and I have come to Good Boy.
On New Year’s Eve, the three of us walked in post–Cuban food and were immediately treated to a view of a very droll-looking pit bull being vigorously humped by a collie. “This is my new favorite bar,” Willa decided, and further events did not disappoint.
The music was good, the company was fantastic, and the drinks flowed (for free, courtesy of Ethan). He even made me a long string of virgin mojitos with his very own two hands. Halfway through the night, Willa turned our corner of the bar into a dance floor and it only took about ten seconds before at least five more people flocked towards her energy. By the end of the night, the entire bar was rocking.
I flopped into bed that night happy and sore and feeling more normal than I had since the ol’ pregnancy test flipped my life upside down.
The next weekend, Willa had decided to replicate a great night.
“You can’t,” I’d insisted. “It’ll pale in comparison.”
But I’d been dead wrong. The second night out at Good Boy was even more fun than the first. Isamu joined us for the last half and if you’ve never seen Willa and Isamu on a dance floor together, well, honestly you’re probably lucky because it’s basically soft-core porn.
The third weekend, I didn’t argue when Willa showed up at my house with a new dress for me and a big smile on her face. I texted Ethan to let him know the two of us were coming and got a thumbs-up in return.
So we’re friends now? Or at the very least, people who can coexist peacefully. Which is exactly what you want from someone you’re having a kid with…except for the part where his partner hates me and he hasn’t said whether or not he actually wants to help with said kid’s life.
I mentally slap myself away from wanting it all. That silly little impossibility where absolutely everything is right all at once.
Because, Eve, Eve, don’t you know this by now? No one has it all.
But what I do currently have is an excellent dance partner. Most men take one look at the bump and either invisible me or sprint from me. This man simply offered me a hand and a smile and spun me around during an old Drake song we both clearly enjoy.
“Am I gonna get beat up?” he asks a few songs later.
“Huh?” I shout back over the music.
“By your boyfriend.”
“Oh,” I laugh reflexively. “He doesn’t exist. No boyfriend.”
“Then who’s the guy behind the bar staring at us.”
I glance over my shoulder just in time to see Ethan looking at me with what appears to be utter misery. I blink and the expression is gone. He’s saying something to the bartender and sliding out from behind the bar. He disappears into the back hallway that leads to his office.
“The baby’s father,” I tell the man.
His eyes grow large. “Ah.”
“I think I should go…” I point with my thumb in the direction that Ethan went.
“Yeah. Sure. Of course.” He’s all palms up and already bopping to the beat of the next song. “Good luck, mama.”
I dawdle at the entrance to the hallway. It’s clearly an employees-only zone and to boldly infiltrate seems like a girlfriend-y thing to do.
Luckily, Ethan is heading back out before I have to decide whether or not to head in.
“Oh. Hey,” he says, hands in his pockets. “You looked like you were having a good time.”
“The dance floor’s fun tonight!”
He purses his lips, covering a smile. “You know that there is no dance floor…unless Willa’s here.”
I grin at him. “Yeah. She’s good at that.” I glance behind me and spot an open booth. “Wanna sit?”
“Yes. Sure.” His eyes track around the bar and I wonder if Eleni actually knows I’m here.
When we get to the booth, silence descends. “So,” he says, drumming his fingers. “Twentyish weeks, huh?”
“Almost twenty. Halfway there.”
“Wow.” He scrapes a hand over the back of his neck.
“Yeah. I have the big ultrasound on Wednesday morning at nine. They do all the 3D imaging and genetic testing and stuff.”
He nods. I wonder if he’s going to ask to come with me, but he stays quiet. His eyes go to my belly. “So, uh. Is the baby…moving and stuff?”
“Yeah! A lot, actually.” It’s been my little secret for a few weeks. But if Ethan is outright asking, I’m telling. “The kicks are getting stronger.”
“Kicks?” His eyes press closed for a second. “It’s been kicking?”
“Yup. Every so often.”
He lifts a hand and lowers it. Lifts it again. “Do you think I could…?”
“Oh, sure! Of course! Actually, if I drink something cold, I can sometimes get some butterfly kicks if you want to try that.”
“Great. Yes.” He’s standing up and disappearing towards the bar. He seems…stoked right now.
He comes back a few minutes later with one of his virgin mojitos that is about ninety percent ice.
I laugh and he looks a little embarrassed. “You said cold,” he mumbles.
“Come sit.” I pat the bench beside me and he slides in. His hand is flat on the table in front of us and instead of both of us just awkwardly staring at it, I do the kind thing, the Willa thing, and take the wheel. His hand is heavy and tense in my hand and I press it firmly to one side of my belly. “I usually feel them around here.”
He’s stock-still, his eyes on his hand. My eyes are on his hand too. Kick, kick, I think. He really seems like he needs this.
The door to the bar opens and, bar owner that he is, he looks up to clock the new patrons. “Oh,” he says. “I didn’t know Shep was coming tonight.”
I didn’t know either and my eyes shoot to the door. There he is. In his puffy coat and gigantic winter hat.
The horny-for-Shep thing has not subsided like previously hoped. It…is gaining energy and I have absolutely no idea what to do about it. As evidenced by the fact that I would very much like to do bad things to that puffy coat. No one on earth has ever been aroused by a puffy coat before, yet here I am ready to sleep naked inside of it.
“Oh!” Ethan says. And then looks down at my belly. “Oh. Wow.”
“Yeah!” I agree, brought back to this current moment. The one where the baby we made together just kicked for Ethan. “Isn’t it awesome?”
“Yes.” His eyes flicker to my very cold drink, which I have yet to take a sip of. And then to my belly, and then, once more, to Shep. “Yeah. Yeah, it is.” His hand slides away.
Shep spots us and heads over, sliding off his big hat and unzipping from his coat. The collar of his plum purple button-down is turned under on one side, and his hair needs a trim. I’d like to spread him on toast and eat him in the bath, please. Thank you.
This is a nightmare.
He half trips over a passing long-haired dachshund who shoots him a withering look. He laughs and gives her a little bowing apology before he slides into the opposite side of our booth.
“Hi!” he says brightly, fluffing a hand through his hair and making it even more messy. “How’s it going?”
He seems genuinely happy to see Ethan and I can’t explain it, it just…deflates me a little.
I’ve been wondering if Shep is feeling at least a teaspoon of the horny-toast-bathtub thing that I’m feeling. If he is, it doesn’t seem to go beyond that. Because if those horny feelings were at all tender, then how could he be so chummy with the man who got me pregnant?
Ethan, on the other hand, is always the tiniest bit stiff with Shep. “Not much, man. How are you?”
See, Shep? That’s how it’s done. Technically polite, prickly enough to soothe my ego.
I’m officially a mess, by the way.
“I’m good,” Shep says, a happy expression on his face.
The three of us sit there in silence until Ethan sits up straight. “I’ll, uh, I’ll grab you a drink. IPA, right?”
“Oh, you don’t have to—”
“I have to check something at the bar anyhow. I’ll be right back. Eve, you good? You need anything?”
“No. I’m fine. Thanks, Ethan.” He nods and stands up and leaves.
“So, how’s it going here?” Shep asks, scanning the bar. His eyes snag on Willa on the dance floor. “Yikes.”
“Yeah, she’s been a little more…vigorous than usual.”
Shep studies his sister for a moment, a line forming between his brows. When he turns back to me, the line is still kinda there when he says, “So, you and Ethan seem…good?”
His words surprise me, but so does his expression. Is it my imagination or does he seem not happy about that? Am I piecing everything to pieces? Am I likely raising my blood pressure right this very second? I take a deep breath.
“I guess so. It was encouraging that he told his family. I feel like that’s a forwards movement? That maybe I’m in less of a holding pattern with him? I guess we’re becoming better friends. It’s been nice spending more time…But that’s all. Come here.” I wave him closer to me. “I can’t look at this anymore.”
He’s confused but he leans across the table towards me. I hook a finger under his collar and it’s a sunny-hot day at the beach under there. If I didn’t already know he smelled like trees and fresh air and bread, I’d bet a million bucks he’d smell like sunscreen. I smooth his collar and then pat some of his wavy hair back into place. His eyes are cast down towards the table, patiently waiting for his grooming to be over.
“There. Much better.”
He clears his throat and sits up straight. “Thanks.”
“You know, Shep, you’re a real head-turner.” I’ve got my chin resting on one hand and I’m feeling a little sleepy and warm. Probably I’m drugged from the residual effects of putting my fingers inside his clothes. It’s the only explanation for why I’m complimenting his looks right now.
“Come on,” he says, his cheeks going pink as he slides his palms down his thighs.
“No. I’m serious. You’ve got this messy/handsome charm. You look like you’re the kind of guy who could teach an uptight businesswoman how to sleep in on Sundays. Women love that kind of thing.” I’m dead serious, but I’m also putting a liiiiiiittle extra sauce on my assessment. It is very fun to watch the tips of his ears get that pink.
He’s gaping at me.
“Actually,” I continue, “now that I say it, why aren’t you regularly rocking some uptight businesswoman’s world? You’re single now.”
He clears his throat again. He’s looking…nervous. I try to think of the last time I saw Shep nervous and come up empty. “Oh. I…I’m not really thinking about that these days.”
I drag some of the condensation down my glass and onto the table. I draw a squiggle. “Still caught up on Heather?”
“Ah. No.” His eyes are on my hand. “No, that’s been over for a long time.”
I look at him until his eyes finally lift to mine. “About a year and a half, huh?”
He nods.
“Can I ask…the whole breaking-up-but-still-living-together thing. How did that work? You really never fell back into old patterns?”
I’m pretty much asking if he and Heather kept sleeping together even though they were technically broken up. Sue me.
“No.” He shakes his head. “Honestly…there wasn’t much of an old pattern to fall back into anyhow. By the time I broke things off…let’s just say that most of our romantic feelings had been gone for a really long time even before that.”
“Oh. Wow.”
He eyes me. “That’s a surprise to you?”
I shrug. “You always seemed…” Happy with her? It’s an automatic response, but now that I think about it, is it right? Shep pretty much always seems happy no matter what, but did he specifically seem happy with Heather? “Like it was working for you.”
“It did. For a long time it was exactly what I needed.” He switches the way he’s sitting and slides his hand across the table to steal some of the condensation from my glass. He draws an arrow and it’s pointing right at me. “I can’t believe you called me messy/handsome.” He modifies the arrow and then wipes it away. “I’ve been called messy before. But not handsome.”
I purse my lips in disbelief. “Oh, give me a break.”
“No, really. I think it’s having that one for a sister.” He juts his head towards the dance floor, where Willa is having a ball dancing by herself while about ten different guys watch her out of the corner of their eyes, salivating and daydreaming about her in the shower. Probably. “I suffer in comparison.”
I raise an eyebrow. “Try having her for a best friend. At least you’re a boy. For me and her, it’s always been a direct comparison.”
He gapes at me. “You can’t be serious.”
I shrug. “It’s always been that way. Willa’s the movie star and I’m…an extra?”
He bursts out laughing. “Tell me you’re joking. You have to be joking. There’s no way you actually think that.”
I shrug again, laughing a little. “Okay, I’m exaggerating. But, I mean, just look at that.” I gesture to the crowd of men dancing in Willa’s vicinity, eyeing her up.
He studies the dance floor and then points at me. “Men are absolute buttheads and for the love of God, please don’t let them dictate your self-worth.”
I’m really laughing now. “Fair enough.”
“It just kills me that you think that, you know. Because it’s so far from reality. You and Willa just have completely different vibes. But the two of you…”
“What?”
“You know that you two were, like, the only thing that the guys in high school ever talked about.”
I have no idea what to say to that. “The conversation must have really changed when I accidentally got that short, short haircut.”
“You were cute!” he insists. And then pauses. “In a…gerbil sort of way.”
We both burst out laughing and that’s how Ethan finds us. He slides a beer in front of Shep and a little bowl of raspberries in front of me.
“Wow! Thank you!” I start in on them.
“What’s so funny?” he asks, pausing for a moment and then sliding in to sit next to me.
“High school,” I tell him.
“Ah.” His eyes flick between me and Shep. “You went to high school together too?”
“Yeah,” Shep says. “I was a grade older. Nerd.” He points to himself. “Hot girl but didn’t know it.” He points to me. “What were you like in high school, Ethan?”
“Oh.” He squints and thinks back. “I was…my sisters’ chauffeur mostly. They were always going shopping and on dates and to the library, and I just tried to look after them all.”
“Four sisters,” I explain to Shep.
His eyes go wide. “Wow.”
“I played lacrosse,” Ethan lists. “I got decent grades, but not great. And my junior year I got drunk in the woods with some buddies and tripped over a tree root and broke my leg. So I had to be on crutches for like three months.”
“Ah,” I say. “You were the drunk-injury-sloppy-mess kid. We had a couple of those at our school too.”
“If you tell me their names, I might know them. We’re a very tight-knit community,” he says with a straight face.
Both Shep and I burst out laughing and Ethan seems a little bit surprised.
Willa appears at our table panting and fanning herself. “Man, it’s fun out there,” she says, reaching for my half-melted drink and downing it. She parks herself next to her brother.
Ethan is staring at my now-empty glass. “Should I make you another one?”
“No, thanks,” I say with a yawn. “I actually think I wanna head home.” I glance at Shep. “Oh, but you haven’t finished your beer yet.”
“I’m good. You go ahead.” He makes a shooing motion with his hands.
I stand and Ethan makes way for me to slide out from the booth. Willa is standing now too and we’re all just looking at Shep sitting there alone in the booth.
Ethan clears his throat and then scoots around me and sits back down. “I’ll hang.”
Shep looks as surprised as I feel, but then his face melts into a smile. “Great.”
Willa is pinching me by the elbow and hauling me towards our coats. “All right, see you later!”
“Bye,” Shep and Ethan say at the same time, giving identical waves.
I can’t stop looking over my shoulder at them even as Willa is bundling me into my coat. “They’re talking,” I whisper to her.
“Well, it would be weird if they weren’t, considering they’re alone at a table together.”
“What do you think they’re talking about?”
“I don’t know. What do men talk about? And more importantly, who cares? Ooh! A cab.” She’s bustled me out onto the sidewalk and is chasing down a cab. It brakes so fast it leaves two feet of black rubber on the street. We slide in and two blocks pass.
“Whatcha thinkin’ ’bout?” Willa asks.
“Shep,” I tell her honestly. “He…told me that he and Heather hadn’t had romantic feelings for each other for a long time before they broke up, and it surprised me. But then, when I got to thinking about it, I couldn’t actually remember if they seemed happy together or not. It’s weird. It’s like he and Heather are a blind spot in my memory.” I grimace at her.
We pull up to a stoplight and I watch as a crowd of women cross the street in front of us. They’re wearing wholly impractical clothes for January, but they look beautiful and glamorous and fun. Jewelry and hair and laughter. That could have been me and Willa a year ago. I can’t help feeling like last year was a completely different life.
“Were they happy together?” I ask Willa.
“Shep and Heather? Um…yes and no. At the beginning, definitely. Shep has always had this…thing where he feels like everyone’s sidekick. He never tries to be the main event. I think it’s probably because of the way he was when we were growing up.”
I furrow my brow. “What do you mean?”
“Oh, come on, you know. He was dorky and all about computer games. He had friends but got picked on a lot too. The only reason he wasn’t completely annihilated in high school was probably because he was my older brother.”
I just stare at her profile. Those swoops and valleys all adding up to visual perfection. “Wow. What’s it like to have that kind of confidence, Willa?”
She laughs. “You’re saying I’m wrong?”
“No. I’m just saying that most people don’t say that shit out loud.”
She laughs again. “It’s you, Eve. I can say anything to you.”
There’s a distinct pause. I prod her along. “So…Shep’s a sidekick.”
“Yeah. Right. But when he got to New York for school, he, like pretty much everybody who moves here, saw an opportunity to reinvent himself. In the middle of that reinvention he met Heather and she was the first girl who was ever like, You. You and no one else. I think it kind of knocked him off his feet.” She glances at me. “He’d never been liked like that before.”
“Huh.” I consider that. He certainly never dated anyone in high school. I knew he wasn’t exactly a hot commodity back then. But I honestly never gave it too much thought. To me he was just Shep. Willa’s big brother. The kid on the other side of the popcorn bowl. “But then what? They just stayed together too long?”
She nods. “I think so. Neither of them are very confrontational, so they just kept on going. I remember asking him if he was going to propose and he nearly aspirated his drink. Being with her forever seemed like an inevitability, but it wasn’t something that he wanted to…encourage.” Her legs are crossed and she bounces one of her feet, looking out the window as she talks. “He got really sad when Isamu and I got engaged. I think he saw how much I wanted to get married. How happy I was.”
“Ugh.” I tip my head back. “I hate thinking about Shep being sad. It’s the worst.”
“I know.”
A thought occurs to me. “Do you—do you think he’s happy now? These days?”
“I’m not sure,” she says. “It’s hard to tell with him. He’s the sort of person who is happy if you’re happy, you know?”
“Yeah.” And I do know. I know exactly what she means.