How to Be a Grown-up (30 page)

He frowned as I tugged on my jeans. “I couldn’t be party to your leaving. They’d have a case for tortious interference.”

“But you’re the lead investor, you could pressure them to pay me.”

He opened his hands. “Can’t, unfortunately.”

“So you’re not going to help me?” I hopped back to the bedroom door to retrieve my sneakers.
Okay, I had to pack a bag for Wynn and call Val and my parents so someone could stay with Maya tomorrow—

He walked over to me. “It doesn’t mean we can’t find something else to do down the road. Or now.” His hands slipped around my waist, his pelvis pressing into mine. He bent to kiss me, but his spicy cologne and pricey whiskey breath were suddenly a little much for the here and now. “I like seeing what’s behind your curtain,” he said as if the chaos was a set of lingerie I’d donned for his amusement. “Ugh!” he jerked his hand out. “What’s this?”

“Vomit.”

I heard the front door open. “Rory?” Claire called.

“In here.” I pushed him away as the buzzer also rang, meaning Blake was downstairs.

“Thank you for coming to get me,” I said as I looked between the map on my phone and passing road signs.

“Of course,” Blake said.

“I mean, I’m sure you could have choppered there or whatever.”

“They offered me a car, but I couldn’t deal with someone else driving right now.”

“I’m glad you’re the one driving,” I said. I was. No one else in the world cared about Wynn as much as I did. No one else ever would, not in a parental way. We would be forever united by this. “I mean, for what it’s worth.”

The song on the radio ended, and Blake turned up the volume on the news.
“Now entering day two of the crisis. Engineers are working around the clock in the luxury high rise to override the security system, which has shut in approximately seventy residents and building staff.”

“So, what’s happening?” I asked.

“It’s amazing. You know that super lux new tower that just opened on Fifty-Seventh Street?”

“The one blocking the sunshine in Central Park?”

“Yeah. It has this, like, Pentagon-level security system.”

“Because the owners are all from Russia and Qatar?” I asked.

“Yep. So, anyway, yesterday morning it got triggered by some glitch, and went into lockdown. No one can get in. No one can get out. I feel bad for them, but the timing for Up Fronts couldn’t be better. Our show isn’t just cutting edge, it’s, like, psychic. So what was this thing that Wynn was at?”

“Karate exhibition. He really wanted you there,” I dared.

“I know. I hate being so far away from you guys,” he said miserably.

My phone buzzed with a text from Claire.
“Her fever is up to 101. What should I give her?”
Looking down at my left hand, where my wedding band caught the light of the passing streetlamps, I saw the smudged “t.”
Tylenol. Shit.

“There,” he said, pointing to the red glowing word in the distance. Emergency.

Blake dropped me off to park and I made my way along the hospital walls, following the colored arrows to recovery, my ankle forcing me to move much more slowly than I wanted to. I remembered when Blake brought me in to St. Luke’s to have Wynn. Despite my relentless contractions, we were twice sent away because I wasn’t dilating. As per the doctor’s instructions, Blake walked me all over midtown at the pace I was currently hobbling. He was amazing, letting me grip his shoulders, drop my head to his chest, and scream as needed. Wynn’s birth was so hard and so long I dreaded Maya’s, but her labor was ninety minutes start to finish. I had never known what to expect.

When I limped in and saw Wynn hooked up to a monitor and IV, my heart twisted in on itself. He looked so much smaller than he had in my bedroom doorway that morning—too little to be here. “Hey, baby,” I said, tearing up as I went to take his hand. He shifted in my direction but didn’t wake. “I’m so sorry. I’m here now.”

“They have him on a morphine drip so he’s pretty zonked.” I turned to see Josh stretching up from a chair. He opened his arms, and I slumped against him.

“Thank you for being here. I don’t even know what to say.”

He dropped his chin to my head. “He’s a tough little guy.”

“I was so horrible to him this morning, Josh. To both of them. He just wanted to know where his dad was and I totally lost it.”

“Hey, now,” he said gently, sweeping my hair from my forehead.

“He doesn’t deserve any of this.”

“Neither do you.” It was the kindest thing anyone could have said. His embrace tightened around me, just enough to make me give over my weight.

“Oh, Jesus,” Blake murmured as he walked in and Josh jerked back.

“Josh, this is Blake,” I said. “He drove me up,” I added although I wasn’t sure why.

“Hey,” Blake said. “From soccer, right?”

“Josh’s been with Wynn all evening,” I told him.

“Thanks, man. So what happened?” Blake asked.

Josh seemed to remind himself to keep talking. “The kids were worked up from the demonstrations, and the next thing we knew, Wynn climbed on a post in the parking lot. The doctor can fill you in on everything, but Wynn’s okay.”

Blake put his arm around me.

“Well, you’re here, so I should go,” Josh said.

“You must be exhausted,” I answered. “I’m sure you just want to get home.”

“I don’t, actually,” he said quietly, the revelation seeming to surprise him as much as it did me.

“Well,” I said quickly, “thank you so much.” I glanced at Blake. “Can we give you a ride to the train?”

“Oh, no. No, I’ll order a car.” He busied himself with his jacket and checked his pocket for his phone. “Okay then. Glad you’re here.”

Blake nodded, gripping my hand, looking down at our sleeping son.

“Good luck.” Pausing in the doorway, Josh glanced back over his shoulder. And through the mesh curtain I could see it written on his face. This hadn’t been the act of a concerned parent or even a concerned friend. This was something else—something neither of us could let ourselves want.

A nurse took pity on me and bandaged my ankle, and then Blake and I took turns trying to sleep in the reclining chairs while they came in and out, monitoring Wynn’s vitals.

“Okay,” the resident said after giving him morphine at 2:00 a.m. “I’m going to let you guys get some rest for a few hours.” I watched Wynn’s features finally relax into a place beyond the pain.

I felt tears breaking.

“What’s going on?” Blake asked gently, pushing the door in to follow me into the bathroom.

“What’s going on is that when I found out my son broke his leg, I forgot to grab Tylenol on the two-block run from getting reamed out by my boss. Maya’s fever worsened and she was without me, and without you, or her brother, and crying.” My cheeks wet as the day caught up with me. “So while you were dozing, I downloaded the Taskrabbit app on my phone; then I uploaded the task; then some nice kid from Fordham brought Claire the Tylenol for $15.”

“You did it,” he said gently. “Why are you crying?”

Because I couldn’t do this alone anymore.

Blake slid down the tile wall, reached out, took me by my waist, and lowered me into his lap, curling around me. It was quiet save the swooshing of cars passing on the road outside. I gave in to the black pull of exhaustion.

“Remember with Wynn,” he said quietly, “how those assholes wouldn’t give us a bed?”

“Mm-hm,” I murmured as he rubbed my back, my tears dampening his shirt. “Was thinking about it earlier.”

“That’s the night I knew there was nothing I could do.”

“What?” I opened my eyes. “What do you mean?”

“I mean you made him and then you nearly tore yourself in half to get him out for me. How could I top that?”

“
We
made him.” I pulled back to look at him. “Both of us. And nobody expected you to top it.”

He stared intently into my eyes. “I wish . . .” He shook his head, unable to finish the thought.

“What?” I asked. “You wish what?”

He searched for the words. “I wish it could be like when he was born. When we thought that the hardest thing could just be behind us.”

I nodded.

His palm cupped my cheek and then he kissed me, really kissed me, with lips that knew mine. Our tongues coordinated effortlessly. I raised up on my knees and he unzipped my sweatshirt. He pulled back to look at me, really look at me. I loved him, had always loved him. James was an SNL sketch next to what was between us.

“Is this okay?” he asked.

“Yes.” I nodded. “Please.”

He kissed my throat. I found the back of his neck where my hand fit perfectly. I tugged his head back to gently bite his earlobe; then all the rage, the hurt, everything erupted as we pushed against and gripped each other. I didn’t care about any part of me that hurt. I just wanted him inside, wanted our faces a breath apart. Tugging at each other’s pants, he lifted me onto the windowsill. And then he was in me, and we moved together in a rhythm perfected from years in which children could interrupt at any moment. For months, I’d felt like a released balloon, but Blake caught me firmly in his grasp. We came within seconds of each other. And with a last kiss, we collapsed.

It was my phone that woke me as the dawn was coming through the blinds. “Claire?” I answered, sitting up on the reclined chair in the mess of hospital sheets.

“No, Ruth.”

“Ruth?”

“Yes. I have something to say to you.”

I listened for the shower, but it wasn’t on. Had he gone to get coffee?

“I think you should know that you can’t just treat people like this. And I’m sorry, but you really need to know that.”

I spotted Blake’s note on the dry erase board.
“Early call. Big presentation today! Arranged for car to pick you up at hospital. Mom will be at hotel waiting for Wynn, and I’ll be with him tonight. Take care today and time for yourself, seriously.
”