Arrest (A Disarm Novel) (4 page)

The sparkly bauble on my hand essentially married me to that life of fear and the unknown; so naturally, the uncertainty scared the shit out of me.

Henry came out of the bathroom after brushing his teeth, wiping at his mouth with the back of his hand. “Do you like it?” he asked, stripping down to his boxer briefs.

I opened my mouth to breathe air to my fears but said instead, “It’s beautiful.”

He snuggled beside me under the covers, wrapping an arm around my waist. He proved that he wasn’t completely oblivious when he said, “I’m going to make you a promise, Els.”

I shifted around to face him.

“I know you’re worried about my job, but I promise you that I will always do my damnedest to make it home safe each day. I’m not planning on dying anytime soon. I want to spend an entire lifetime with you.”

I kissed him, believing in his conviction. But the thing about promises is that, no matter how much you mean them, sometimes fate will find a way to intervene.

The next day, my parents borrowed the Volvo to visit with friends in Longmont. Henry challenged Will to a game on Xbox and both males became quickly engrossed, which left Julie and me sitting around with nothing to do.

“You want to go out? Do something?” Julie asked, sitting on the couch beside her son.

Despite feeling sleepy, I agreed. “Please. I need some girl time.”

We went to a sushi place in the Cherry Creek Shopping Center, a cute little restaurant with contemporary decor and a reputation for the best sushi in town.

“So how is Will doing in kindergarten?” I asked as we sat down at a table.

“Great. His teacher says he’s very smart and that he’s really good at math but has a bit of a habit of getting distracted and not finishing his work.” She paused. “Was Jason that way?”

“I can’t remember. He was smart and good at computers and math, but I don’t know about the tendency to daydream.”

“Maybe that came from me,” she said with a rueful smile. “He’s always daydreaming. A few times I’ve caught him in his room, talking to an invisible friend.”

“I had one of those too,” I said with a soft chuckle. “His name was Bernie and he was a bus driver,” I added, pinching the bridge of my nose.

“What’s wrong?”

“The headaches are back. I thought getting glasses would help, but it hasn’t really.”

Our food arrived then; we picked up our chopsticks and readied our bowls with soy sauce and wasabi. But as I took my first bite, a wave of nausea hit me and I very nearly spit out a piece of my spider roll. I managed to swallow it down with some tea but suddenly the thought of eating another piece made me want to gag.

“Excuse me,” I said and practically ran to the bathroom, getting to a stall just in time to vomit rice and fish into the toilet. I retched a second time when a reason for my nausea planted itself in my head and started to grow.

My hands were shaking and my mind was whirling as I stood back up, kicking at the flush handle. I wiped my mouth with hastily ripped pieces of toilet paper and closed my eyes, leaning my throbbing head against the door and cursing fate and her awful timing.

It took me a few minutes to gather my nerves and go back out to the table. Julie’s light blue eyes watched me as I sat down. “You okay?” she asked.

“Yeah,” I said, busying myself with placing the napkin on my lap just right. “I think I just got a bad batch of sushi.”

She plucked a piece off my plate and chewed on it. “The sushi tastes okay.”

I lifted the glass up to wash the taste out of my mouth then quickly set it back down when I remembered it was filled with sake.

Julie’s eyes got wide. “You’re not”—she looked around then mouthed the rest of her words—“pregnant, are you?”

My head spun and I held on to the table for support. “No. I don’t think so.”

“Have you been dizzy? Tired a lot? Headaches? Peeing more than usual?”

I swallowed hard. I didn’t have to say anything; my horrified expression confirmed it.

She covered her mouth with her hand. “Elsie . . .”

“I’m not pregnant. I’ve been taking my pills religiously!” More or less.

“But there’s always a chance with any kind of birth control,” she said.

Tears sprung to my eyes, adding to the mounting evidence that I might indeed be with child. “I can’t be pregnant,” I said, shaking my head. “I mean, Henry and I haven’t really discussed having kids. I don’t know if we can even afford a child right now.”

Julie reached across the table and gripped my hand, trying to hold me together. Maybe because I looked like I was ten seconds away from falling apart.

“And at this stage of my life, I don’t really feel like I need a baby, you know? I have Henry, my career, our house. My life is full. My heart is full.” I dabbed at my eyes, my stomach a blender of amplified emotions. “I don’t know if we’re ready.”

“I don’t think you can ever be ready.”

“What if Henry doesn’t want this?” The thought horrified me, stopped me dead in my tracks.

“Of course he does. Have you seen him with Will? He
wants
to be a dad.”

“What if—”

Julie squeezed my hands. “Look, we’ll get a pregnancy test at the drugstore on the way back. Then you’ll know the answer either way.”

I drank water and chewed on edamame for the rest of the meal. Afterward, we went and bought the pregnancy test. Julie said I needed to use early morning pee to get the best results, which meant I’d have to wait until tomorrow.

“I wish you didn’t have to leave this afternoon,” I said, staring at the box in my hand, wondering how I was going to survive the next sixteen hours.

“Call me tomorrow and let me know, okay?” she said. “I don’t care what time it is in Texas, I want to know the results.”

When we got back home, we found Henry and Will still playing. Will jumped up, the controller in his hand, and cried, “I beat Henry! Mom, I beat Henry!”

Henry picked him up and held him upside down by the legs. “You weren’t supposed to tell them, you little squirt!” he said, making Will laugh uncontrollably. After setting him down, Henry turned to me. “What do you have there?”

I panicked, clutching the bag tighter in my hand.

Julie, thankfully, was on the ball. “We brought you back some sushi.” She carefully reached into the bag for the plastic box that held my nearly untouched spider and Philly rolls.

“Will, you like sushi?” Henry asked.

The boy made a face. “Ew. I don’t like fish.”

Henry opened the box and showed him the round pieces. “Try one. If you don’t like it, I can make you a peanut butter and fish sandwich.”

“Ewww!”

“How about a peanut butter and seaweed sandwich then?”

I felt a hitch in my chest as I watched Henry lead Will into the kitchen, but for the life of me, I couldn’t decipher what emotion was going through me. All I knew was that tomorrow morning everything was going to change.

—

“Henry, wake up.” I poked him in the arm but he didn’t stir. I pushed at his side but still nothing. So I flicked his nose.

His eyes flew open and he sat up, assessing his surroundings. “What’s wrong? What’s going on?”

“There’s no emergency,” I said.

He glanced at the clock as he lay back down. “Then why are you waking me up at four in the morning?” he asked with a croaky voice.

“Because of this.” My fingers were trembling and my heart was pounding when I pressed the white stick with the pink cap into his hand.

“What . . .” He stared at the object in his hand for long moments. I guess he’d never even seen one before. He rubbed his eyes then looked at it again. “Is this what I think it is?”

My voice trembled when I said, “Yes.”

He sat up and stared at that stick, as if he was trying to glare holes into it. His body revealed nothing about his reaction; his breathing was normal, his posture relaxed.

“Henry?” I finally said when the silence became too much. “What are you thinking?”

“Well,” he said, his Adam’s apple bobbing up and down. “I’m wondering if I’m holding the end of the stick that you peed on.”

I let out a surprised laugh and smacked him on the arm. “Be serious.”

His face split into a wide grin. “We’re going have a baby,” he said and pulled me on top of him. Kisses rained down my face, making me wonder if I was wired wrong. Shouldn’t I feel overjoyed too?

I pulled away and sat up, straddling him. “Aren’t you even a little bit scared?”

“Why?”

“Because!” I threw my arms out to express how monumental it was. “A baby!”

He sat up and wrapped his arms around my back. “I know, it’s huge. But right now, the only thing I’m feeling is incredibly lucky.”

“But . . . what if I’m a bad mom?” I asked.

He shook his head. “Not even possible.”

“I like my career, and I sometimes have to work long hours when we have a big campaign. I don’t want to be like . . .” I looked up at him, afraid of giving voice to my fear: that I’d somehow become like his mother. Helen had worked hard and was a sought-after lawyer, but at the expense of her relationship with her son. I admired her work ethic but in no way did I want to be like her.

“You won’t be like my mom,” he said with all certainty. “Just the fact that you’re worried about it means you’ll never be like her.”

“What about you? Are you ready to be a dad?” I asked. “It’s a lot of hard work. It’s not like with Will, where you just hang out and have fun all the time. There are diapers to contend with, and crying, and puke, and interrupted sleep.”

He took my face in his hands and gave me a solemn look. “We’re having a baby, Elsie. We made a human being together. I would do anything and everything for you and for that little miracle inside you,” he said, his hand sliding down to rest on my belly. “The rest we can deal with as it comes.”

I had my doubts but I let him pull me down on top of him, still wishing I could share his enthusiasm.

“Aren’t you the least bit excited about it?” he asked, running his fingers up and down my back.

A guilty tear squeezed out the side of my eye. “I’m . . .” I stopped, searching for words. “I wasn’t expecting this yet.”

“You might be in shock,” he offered. “Sometimes people in shock react in unexpected ways.”

“‘Shock’ is the correct word for it.”

Henry’s soft words reached me through the darkness: “You do want this baby, right?” he asked, the joy gone from his voice.

I tried to think but my brain refused to cooperate. I wanted to give him a real answer, but the truth was that I didn’t have a choice whether I wanted the baby or not. The choice, for better or worse, had already been made. “I want to say yes.”

Henry didn’t say anything else. He just wrapped himself around me, pressing his face into the side of my neck, weighing me down with his silent disappointment.

—

The next few days, I felt wretched both physically and emotionally. The nausea hit hard and fast, occurring at random times in the day so that all I could keep down was crackers and water.

Then there was the emotional toll, the guilt that I was somehow letting Henry down with my lack of enthusiasm. That was coupled with the knowledge that women every day were struggling to get pregnant, even spending hundreds of thousands of dollars for in vitro fertilization, and here I was, knocked up and not even happy about it.

The guilt I wrapped around me like a blanket was thick. Nobody, least of all Henry, was making me feel this way. It was all self-inflicted, and I needed to find a way to make peace with this thing inside me before I suffocated.

—

On Thursday, we were finally able to get an appointment with an OB-GYN. While getting ready, I stood in front of the mirror in my underwear, contemplating how my body would change. I turned sideways, imagining how my stomach would swell in the coming months. I had to admit, the thought terrified me.

Henry came up behind me and pressed a kiss on the back of my neck. “You’re beautiful, you know that?”

But I didn’t feel beautiful. I felt in shambles.

“Henry, are you sure about this?” Because I sure as hell wasn’t.

“I couldn’t be more sure,” he said, resting his chin on the crook of my neck. He wrapped his arms around me and faced us toward the mirror. “Do you remember the last girlfriend I had in Oklahoma?”

“Shelly? Kelly? I can’t remember.”

“Melanie,” he said with a grin. “We went out for a few months.”

“What about her?” I asked, feeling a prickle of jealousy. I hadn’t really liked her—she’d been too possessive—and had been glad when Henry ended the relationship.

“Did I ever tell you why we broke up?”

“You just told Jason and me it didn’t work out.”

His eyes held mine in the mirror. “Because she wanted something serious. She wanted to get married, settle down, have kids. And for a guy in his twenties, that’s the last thing he wants to hear from a girl he’s not that sure about.” He straightened but kept me tucked into his warm body. “I tried to picture a life with her but I couldn’t see her in my future. When I think of the mother of my children, her face is not the one that comes to mind.”

His hands slid up to my jaw and lifted the hair away from my face, tilting my face slightly upward. “It was always you, Elsie,” he said against my ear. “The person who walked down the aisle, the woman bearing our child, the face I’ll wake up to every morning for the rest of my life.”

I closed my eyes, leaning into the solidity of his body. “I wish I had even half of your conviction,” I said. “I’m sure about you too. Just not about a baby.”

I could feel him nodding behind me, knew that he wanted more than anything for me to share in his excitement. But I couldn’t give him something I didn’t have.

—

Later, Henry and I sat in the waiting room of the clinic, tense but putting on a happy face for others. I glanced around the room and seeing the contentment radiating from these pregnant women made me wonder again what the hell was wrong with me.

“Hey, ease up there,” Henry whispered. “Or they’ll have to X-ray my hand for broken bones.”

I looked down and realized I’d been gripping his hand for the better part of an hour. “Sorry,” I said, feeling the blood rushing back to my fingers when I let go.

“Els, it’ll be fine.”

My eyes flew across his face. “What if . . .” But I couldn’t finish the sentence, couldn’t breathe aloud the thought of what we’d do if I really didn’t want a baby. I was afraid to mention the two
A
’s—
adoption
and
abortion
—still unsure of what I really wanted.

Henry gave a slight shake of the head. “Don’t say anything right now. Let’s just talk to the doctor and make our decision then.”

A nurse drew my blood in the back then sent me out to the waiting room again. Several minutes passed before my name was finally called and we went into the exam room together. I changed out of my clothes and into the gown in front of Henry, and I pretended not to see how he was avoiding looking at my stomach.

I lay down on the exam table, ripping a bit of the thin paper cover in the process, and answered questions from Dr. Harmon. Henry sat in the corner of the room, quiet and observant. I could tell he didn’t want to be stuck there, that he wanted to be more of an active participant, but it was my body on the exam table, not his.