‘Happy name day to Hannah. May she be healthy and bring happiness to your life!’
He reread his message, then closed the text screen without sending. Rachel never called after the party, which he admitted made sense. After he got Andres home and cleaned up, he copied her plans and drifted off to sleep while reading with him. The queen bed in his son’s room had been a good investment. He’d picked it so he could have his parents stay with him when they came to Houston, but patted his earlier self on his well-aligned back for the choice. He could start awake at midnight and stagger to his own bed without the aches he used to get from falling asleep on the floor during stories, back when Andres was in a toddler bed.
The tossing and turning he did after flopping across his mattress, he didn’t have anyone to thank for. He drifted in and out of sleep wondering if Rachel was irritated with him, and if so, was it for introducing the kids or something more, and also what to do about it.
Thirty-six years old and his emotional life tumbled him into a whirlpool like he was sixteen. At one point overnight he calculated the number of days since he and Rachel met. He hoped the number-work would lull him back to sleep. Instead the total—sixty—spun him into soul-searching about the intensity of his feelings. It wasn’t just that he’d dated women before for a couple of months without the same sense of connection and belonging. He’d fallen deep before. He’d fallen fast before. He’d built what he thought was permanence and security before.
Combining all of those elements into one relationship? That smashed everything into one big ball of jaw-tightening, stomach-lurching confusion.
Because he was all in. Had been since ... when? Since she let him in on the close-held secret of her address? Since kayaking and popsicles? Since being confronted in a rain-damp parking lot by a fury wearing three pairs of cheap sunglasses?
Whenever it was, it stuck claws into him, and that was fine. They weren’t sharp claws. They anchored him in a place he was happy to be. But it wasn’t the same for Rachel. Either she wasn’t hooked, or it made her feel pierced in uncomfortable ways, or she resented claws in general.
Which left him sure of himself, very unsure of her, and without tons of options for bridging that divide. But he did wish wonderful things for Hannah, so before heading to wake Andres, he sent the name day text, and assurance that he hadn’t said anything to either child about their relationship. She might appreciate it, or she might be irate, but he couldn’t spend another night tossing and mulling over her silence.
She had tons of crap on her mind. It was her refrain, her excuse, for too many days on end. So much crap, she justified not making time for in depth texting or calls or dragging Hannah to spend some awkward hours trying to entertain her and Andres together while she and Theo acted like things weren’t strained between them.
Besides, it was too hot for the zoo. And his next suggestion, the Children’s Museum, was extra crowded on summer weekends. And the water park meant a whole rigmarole with swim diapers and Hannah’s newfound love of running to the toilet every thirty-five minutes in hopes of praise and rewards. So it made sense to put Theo off. More sense than his argument that it was the only full weekend they both had custody and were in town at the same time.
If they were going to be in some kind of long-term relationship—and in her mind that was still an ‘if’ no matter his current hold over her—they could force the kids to make friends later. Their Christmas custody arrangements aligned. If they managed to last another five months they could all decorate cookies and visit Santa together.
One more unnecessary weight on her mind was the gut-twist yanking her headlong towards the image of hanging stocking with Hannah and Theo and Andres. Of taking over the vast expanse of his kitchen island with spices and flour and sprinkles and racks of her grandmother’s pfeffernüsse cookies. Of everyone snuggling up with hot cider and holiday movies.
Far as she knew, they didn’t even celebrate with Santa. And if Andres was going to spoil Hannah’s Christmas fun by shattering her childhood illusions, there wasn’t a future for any of them anyway.
She snorted, the picture of elegance walking down the hospital corridors. Classy, on top of being full of dismal fantasies about the future. Catastrophic thinking. Turning every potential good into a disaster. A fine way to protect herself. And a grim way to proceed with a relationship.
Her gut tugged at her more, so she texted Theo suggesting they get coffee later in the week, after she sent Hannah for the two weeks with Sergei. All those nights alone groaned and stretched ahead of her. She sent a second text saying she’d be happy to join him and Andres for dinner some night, if he wanted to invite her over.
Pulling out her phone to text made it impossible to ignore the notification she’d known was burning its message at her all morning. Squeezing her eyes closed after reading it didn’t make it go away, either. She’d set it up after her ridiculous gut threw a strange idea at her on Thursday evening. She’d abruptly stopped coloring in her flower garden and stared off long enough for Hannah to tug the purple crayon from her unresisting fingers. She’d shoved the thought away over and over during the weekend. Gone back to her colorful garden drawing. Given herself the deadline of Monday at work to deal with it. And she had a free quarter hour before her next appointment.
So. Fine. Dealing with it would mean one thing off her mind.
Unless it turned out wrong.
Or right.
Her gut was far too twisty for her to figure out which answer she wanted. Theo did that to her. Loused up her instincts. Made it impossible to know if she’d ever thought straight one minute of her entire life. Or if every instinct was wrong until they met, and somehow now they were all right, and she didn’t know how to operate with a gut she could trust. Left her floundering to take the next step, in case the directions were reversed or her path was down uncharted, pit-filled roads.
And this next step.... She sighed. Time to get on with it.
She made her way to the pharmacy. And then the restroom. Locked herself in the stall. Peed. Waited. Waited more, ignoring her gut and the text message buzzing in her pocket and the gossip happening by the sinks. When she couldn’t bear more waiting, she looked. And the grin and the trembling arms and the soft sizzle in her head all told her something she’d for sure told her gut to not go getting excited about.
It didn’t fit in the plans she narrated about her life.
It disrupted the thousand and six precarious pillars keeping her world semi-stable.
It didn’t make one lick of sense.
Despite all that, despite all reason, there were millions of bouncing bits of spinning whirligigs within her, each and every one of them thrilled to find out she was pregnant.