The Grown Ups (30 page)

Suzie opened the door before Sam had come to a complete stop. Over her shoulder from between gritted teeth she said, “I can get a wheelchair and a nurse at the desk. Find Michael, he's here somewhere.” She hesitated before she tossed Sam her cell phone. She didn't know what was ahead of her. Sam would have a better chance of talking to Michael. Suzie walked away before Sam could even respond. She walked slowly, her coat doubled over and wrapped around her waist. She tried hard not to think about what was happening, even though she wanted to be prepared. A cold sweat broke out on the back of her neck as the sliding glass doors to the emergency room opened and Suzie walked inside.

It didn't take long for the ER docs to transfer her to the maternity ward. Her staff credentials and the presence of her OB sped up the process, and in under an hour they had a diagnosis.
Her placenta was detaching from the uterus. But the baby had a strong heartbeat. For the best chance of a full-term birth, Suzie would have to remain in bed most likely until the end of her pregnancy.

“If you're lucky,” her doctor had said, “we'll get another eleven weeks at least.”

Suzie had stared at him. There was that word again:
luck
. She knew the survival rate increased the longer they could keep the baby inside, but a term pregnancy couldn't really have anything to do with luck, could it? If you counted the previous miscarriages, wouldn't that make her the unluckiest mother-to-be in the world? Why should this time be any different?

Every time the door opened Suzie expected to see Michael. She had lost all track of time, had no idea how long she had been in the hospital, let alone the room. Had everyone disappeared? Not even Sam had shown up yet and she had given him strict instructions to find his brother. Suzie grabbed at a nurse who had just entered the room. “Has anyone seen my husband? Dr. Michael Turner? He's on cardiology—pediatrics.”

“You have to relax,” the nurse said as she removed the sheet to adjust the monitor. She frowned slightly at the belt and smoothed it out before she pulled the sheet back up. “I'll get the desk to page him, okay?”

Suzie nodded. She felt the tears that had been hovering at the corners of her eyes roll down her cheeks and into the creases under her chin. The nurse pulled a tissue from her pocket and dabbed at Suzie's face. “I promise. Don't get your pressure up. They'll make me stick you again.” She gave her a half smile, half frown. She had a kind face, and Suzie searched it for an answer as to what her future would bring.

After the nurse left Suzie, she had nothing to do but listen to
the heartbeats, hers and the baby's, along with the automatic whoosh of the blood pressure cuff. She shifted in the bed. The chux pads beneath her bare ass were bunched between her legs, and she attempted to straighten them out without moving too much. She placed her hands over her abdomen, careful not to disturb the monitor, and tried to tune out the noise from the other side of the door. She knew just down the hall babies were being delivered and she shut her eyes and imagined herself as one of those women. Eleven weeks. She would not accept the other option.

At the sound of the door Suzie opened her eyes. Michael. He took four long steps and bent over her bed and held her face cupped in the palms of his hands. He looked in her eyes and whispered everything she wanted to hear. They would be okay. Their baby would be okay. He wouldn't let anything happen to them. That was everything she needed.

By the time
Marguerite and Hunt arrived at the hospital Suzie was propped against a tower of pillows in bed, attempting to eat and drink from a semi-prone position. Although she was tired and not really up for a late-night visit from all of them, she insisted Michael let them come in. Sam, who had been exiled to the waiting area hours earlier, had finally called his father in a panic, which was what had brought them to the hospital.

Right before they arrived, Sam had come into the room. That was the first time Suzie had seen Michael crack. He frowned at Sam and his face sort of melted into a shudder and by the time he was in front of him he was choking back tears. Sam opened his arms and Michael stepped into them, clinging to his brother. Overwhelmed by the ferocity of Michael's reaction and Sam's awkward attempt at comfort, Suzie had to look away.

Hunt took the chair next to the bed and reached for Suzie's hand, while Michael and Marguerite stood talking in low voices by the door. Sam had been playing with the channel changer and had been sucked into an episode of
Law & Order.
The sound offered a fill-in-the-blank purpose to the silence and now Sam was pressed up against the wall between the monitors and the bathroom, in an attempt to focus on the TV but not take up any more space.

Hunt patted her hand. “Don't worry, Elizabeth. You're going to be fine.”

Suzie froze. “Suzie,” she said gently. “Hunt, I'm Suzie.”

“Of course,” Hunt said, as if they were in on the same joke. “Of course you are, dear girl.”

Suzie looked over at Sam, then Michael and Marguerite. Sam was engrossed in the TV and Michael and Marguerite were still bent together, deep in conversation. Suzie looked back at Hunt. “The baby is good, Hunt, see.” She pointed to the monitor next to her shoulder. A tangle of electrodes and wires from beneath the sheets connected her to the screen, transmitting a constant stream of information.

Hunt relaxed back in the chair as he gazed at the screen. “That's the heart of a strong Turner baby if I ever saw one.”

Suzie smiled, but she recalled several other lapses she had witnessed. At the time she had chalked them all up to Hunt's naturally scattered disposition. Always a million things going on at once, that was her father-in-law. She was relieved when Marguerite stepped forward and placed her hand on his shoulder. “We should go, Hunt. We want Suzie to rest.”

Hunt nodded, totally agreeable. He did not look at Suzie again or say goodbye. Michael caught his father's arm as he passed and gave him a one-armed hug. “We'll talk tomorrow,”
Michael said, to which Hunt offered a singularly unusual grunt of acknowledgment.

As the door closed Sam looked at Michael. Suzie wasn't sure what, if anything, he had heard or noticed. Perhaps Hunt was simply tired, worried, or out of sorts. It was late, and he had been in a constant state of adjustment since his official retirement. Marguerite had been spending more time with Sam than with Hunt, consumed by the project of the restaurant. Hunt hadn't seemed to want a role other than a few routine legal issues that he took care of right away, and he had even delegated the work of budgeting and balance sheets to his accountant. Suzie ran a hand over her eyes and rubbed. It was nothing. It had to be nothing. It had been a long night.

“I should go too.” Sam stood between the bed and his brother. Michael reached out a hand as if they were going to shake and then he pulled Sam to him quickly before they released.

“Would you call Mom?” Michael asked. “I just want her to know, and I'm not sure when I'll get a chance.”

“Sure, I can do that.”

“Thanks,” Michael said softly.

Sam looked over at Suzie and joked, “You can thank me by naming my niece or nephew after me: Sam, Samantha, it works either way.”

Suzie and Michael rewarded him with a laugh, and Michael said, “Is that all?”

“Oh,” Suzie said, her brow wrinkling, “I'm going to miss your dinner next week!” She tried to hide a yawn, but her eyes were at half-mast.

“You can be my first takeout order.” Sam waved a hand in her direction, then nudged Michael toward the chair as he opened the door to leave.

Suzie felt her limbs go limp. She felt the baby flutter-kick beneath her rib cage. Michael hunched over with his head resting near Suzie's stomach, and she picked up his hand and placed it on the right spot. The baby moved again and now there was a tight little knot there until its limbs repositioned. Suzie didn't realize she had been holding her breath until Michael spoke. “That's my boy.”

“What?”

Michael shrugged and looked sheepish, his chin tucked to his chest, looking up at her from underneath heavy lids. “I was being a sexist prick. Our little girl could have that kick too.” He smiled before he put his head back down on the mattress.

Suzie wound her fingers in Michael's hair. She sunk deep into the pillows and closed her eyes. She saw them as they were, united in love for each other and their unborn child. For this one moment they were protected, in a bubble. They had expected the worst and it hadn't happened. Not this time.

T
he incessant buzzer caused Bella to sit straight up in bed,
the blankets and sheets wound tightly around her limbs as if she'd been riding a bicycle in her sleep. For a minute, she had no idea where she was and her heart pounded in her ears until her eyes focused on the familiar shadows in the room. Home. She had been deeply asleep after nights of not sleeping at all. She was home. She peered at her alarm, afraid it was time to get up for work, but the clock confirmed that was hours away. This block and her building were usually quiet and she wondered if someone had been locked out and was randomly hitting buzzers. Except the consistency with which her buzzer was being hit would suggest it was more than coincidence.

She crawled from her bed and pressed the intercom. “Seriously?” she asked, her voice clogged with sleep. She hoped her anger transmitted through the ancient system and out the front stoop to the person with the excitable finger.

“Bella! Bella, it's me, Sam.”

“Sam? What?”

“Sam Turner.”

“Sam, I know who you are. Why are you here?”

“Can I—can we talk?”

Bella looked around the room as if someone, anyone, would tell her how bad an idea this really was. Sam probably had no idea that Ted was gone. Bella had been so embarrassed by her gigantic relationship fail that it had taken her forever to even tell Suzie, and then she begged her to keep it a secret. So for all he knew Ted could come bursting through the door. “It's almost two, do you know that?” Bella asked as she pressed the button to unlock the front door. She put her ear against the door and heard the front door open and shut and then the thud of feet on the stairs. She realized she was standing in her pajamas, and she grabbed at the first thing she saw, her mother's fur, which lived on a hook by the door.

Bella's apartment was on the top floor. She stepped out onto the landing. As Sam rounded the third floor he looked up the flight of stairs. Bella crossed and uncrossed her arms over her mother's old fur. She ruffled the tangles out of her hair with her fingers and touched the pillow crease in her cheek. Sam stopped short and just looked at her before he slowly walked up the next flight to where she was standing.

Bella rubbed at her eyes with a curled fist and blinked as he stopped on the step just below her. “Why are you here?”

“I was at the hospital with Suzie.”

Her eyes widened, and she felt instantly awake. “Oh my God, no. What happened?”

“She was bleeding, and then they did something to make it stop. I think she has to be in bed for the rest of, well, you know.” He hesitated. “I'm sorry, I didn't really think this out. I wanted to
tell you but I guess I don't know the correct terms or—the thing is that she and the baby are okay.”

“Way to bury the lede.” Bella exhaled. “I'd like to kill the messenger now.”

“I'm sorry. I was thinking all the way here what I was going to say and then I saw you.” Sam shook his head. “I'm sorry,” he said again.

“That still doesn't explain why you're here. You could have called me to tell me. Anyone could have called.”

“I left my phone in the car.” Sam hesitated. “Is that your mother's coat? I haven't seen that in—”

Bella stroked the fur and hugged herself harder. Of course: the night her mother died they had slept in her bed wrapped in this coat. “Sam,” she said in a weary voice.

“Bella, I know I didn't have the right to say any of those things to you. I'm so sorry.”

“Okay,” she said slowly. “I think you already apologized.”

“You wouldn't answer my calls.”

“I couldn't, Sam.”

“Bella—” Sam looked behind her to the open door of her apartment.

Suddenly, she understood his apprehension. “Are you here to challenge Ted to a duel? He's gone.”

“What?”

“Ted. He's gone.”

“When?”

“Since before Thanksgiving.”

“He never came back from that writing thing?”

She sighed. “There wasn't a writing thing.”

“But—” Sam hung his head as he figured out exactly what Bella was telling him. “I told you he was no good for you.”

Bella's mouth twisted into a smirk. “He moved out before I came back after Thanksgiving. It was mutual.” She shrugged. She hoped it appeared casual.

“Why didn't you tell me? At Thanksgiving, you should have told me.”

“Why are you here, Sam?” She felt a flush start on her chest and rise up to her neck, past the fur collar.

“I never wanted to hurt you, Bella.” Sam leaned against the doorframe. “I want another chance.” He hesitated. “Can you give me—us—that?”

“Sam.” Bella sighed. She felt an old ache in her gut. “Don't you see it was all too much? Ted had just left. You were telling me you loved me out of the blue. I just couldn't handle it.” She looked at him. “You really pissed me off. Do you have any idea how long I waited to hear that from you? And it never came. So then I met Ted, only to totally give up myself in the process. I just needed some distance. From him. From you.” She turned and walked back into her apartment. She needed something to do.

She heard Sam follow her in. He hesitated as he crossed over the threshold. She turned to look at him and saw that he was taking in all the packing boxes huddled against one wall. “You're moving?”

Bella gave a slight shrug. “I can't afford the rent alone.”

“Talk to me,” Sam said. “Please.”

Bella stared at him long and hard. She shook her head. “Can you close the door?”

He did as she asked, turning the bolt.

“What happens now, Sam?” She was close enough for Sam to see she was trembling all over and she didn't care. Not anymore. He grabbed ahold of her fingers and tugged her hand, bringing her up next to him. She could smell the old fur coat mixed with
the essence of Sam, his shampoo, his clothes, and his skin, his everything. She ran a tongue over her teeth, aware of her sleep breath. She placed her cheek against Sam's and said, “You're here, but what happens now?”

“I don't know,” Sam whispered. “I don't know. But I miss you, Bella, all the time. I miss you so damn much.” His hands were in her hair as he held her face away from his so he could look at her. “I've never felt anything for anyone like I feel for you. Not then. Not now. Not ever. Do you believe me?”

Bella wasn't moving but every molecule in her being was hurtling toward Sam. Attaching. Her lips moved against his throat, along his jawbone, and to his ear before they finally found his mouth. When Sam kissed her back it was like they were kids, fumbling, unsure of where to put their lips or tongue, of how much pressure to apply before teeth got in the way. When Sam pulled away Bella was scared that they had waited too long and that he would turn around and go. Instead Sam said, “I'm so nervous.”

“Me too,” she whispered.

Sam slipped his arms inside the fur coat and circled her waist. She rested her head on his shoulder. After a while they moved to her bed. The sheets and pillow were still warm from where she had been tangled in the blankets. Sam held Bella tightly and she pressed against him, relieved that she still fit. They talked in whispers even though no one could hear them. Sam told her about Suzie in the hospital bed, fiercely guarding that tiny life. He told her about Michael and how, in Sam's arms, Michael had needed him. He told her about his father, how he wondered if he was losing his mind.

As Bella told him she worried all the time how fucking fragile everything was, Sam ran his hands up the length of her body, finding his way inside the coat and under her T-shirt. Right away
there was the familiar urgency between them. Bella shrugged out of the coat and sat up. Sam pulled the shirt over her head and took a nipple in his mouth as she tugged at his belt buckle and zipper. She pushed him back to climb on top of him. By then both of them were gasping for breath, neither of them able to slow down or make it last. Sam grabbed ahold of Bella's hips roughly, wanting her closer, matching her rhythm with his own.

“Look at me,” she said, and so he did as both of them let go. Bella wasn't sure which of them laughed first or why, but soon they were laughing, clinging to each other, nearly crying. Both of them were breathing hard, as if they'd run a marathon. Bella pushed herself up and Sam reached to wipe the tears from her cheek. She caught his hand and held it as she tried to catch her breath.

The look Sam gave her was solemn. “I know,” Sam said. “I know that I nearly blew it. I'm an idiot.”

“Yup, you are.” She leaned down and kissed him deeply and then pulled away. “But lucky for you I'm fond of your kind of idiot.” Sam looked up at Bella. She saw him at fifteen, at sixteen, at seventeen. They had always been one crush away from each other, and yet this boy whom it felt like she had loved her entire life was now this man who was looking up at her as if she was his everything. Sam rolled her over onto her back and kissed her slowly. There were so many things Bella had to say, so many things she wanted to tell him. But not now. There would be time, much later in the quiet, there would be time.

Five weeks later
Bella stood in the kitchen of Sam's restaurant wearing nothing more than an old T-shirt of his and smearing the last of the goat cheese on a slice of bread. Sam watched her as she scraped the remains of the cheese from the wrapper with
her index finger and held it up by his lips. “Eat,” she commanded. Sam licked the cheese from her finger.

Bella shook her head. His mother really had mastered this cheese. It was tart and creamy, flavored with a nice selection of herbs. “So good, right?” Bella took more bread and then went over to the walk-in. She bent over so that Sam could see the lacy strip of her underpants.

“Enough about the cheese!” Sam groaned. The Styrofoam cooler of goat cheese had arrived from his mother shortly after Sam had called to tell her about Suzie. It had arrived with no note, just the information sheet about the cheese and his mother's goats that was shipped with every order. It was crazy, Sam told Bella, to have any expectations where his mother was concerned; still, she confused him. Nevertheless, he and Bella had been steadily working their way through the cheese in the hours after closing each night.

Bella retrieved a platter of cold Greek chicken just as Sam slid his hands up her bare back and under the T-shirt. “Sorry, buddy, I found something else.” Bella shimmied away from Sam's hands and turned around to put the chicken on the counter. She peeled back the plastic wrap and delicately picked a long strip of pepper and an olive off the top. When she saw Sam watching she dangled a piece of chicken in his face.

Sam took the chicken. Before he ate it he said, “You got a little something there.” He pointed to her incisor as he popped the chicken in his mouth.

“When I get fat will you still want me?” Bella smiled and licked the lemony oil from her fingers at the same time. She took a swallow of water and felt the olive let go from her tooth.

“You have to ask?”

Bella shook her head. Every night they slept in a tight hold,
Bella curled with her back against his chest, as if making up for lost time.

Sam leaned across the prep table and took the chicken platter. They had become midnight food raiders since the restaurant officially opened a month ago. Bella never imagined how thrilling the routine of an ordinary day could be. Every night after closing Sam cleaned the kitchen and then prepped for the next day before crawling upstairs to their tiny room. Bella would wait for him in bed, the only real piece of furniture they had, among a fan of students' papers. As soon as she heard him on the stairs she collected the papers into a pile, removed her glasses, and placed them on an overturned box that served as a temporary nightstand. Sam would take three steps into the room before collapsing facedown next to her on the pillow, bringing with him the slight whiff of what he'd cooked that day along with the bleach he used to wipe down the surfaces of the kitchen.

Bella would climb on top of his back and knead her fingers into the deep tissue, softening the knots in his shoulders. While her hands worked she asked him about the day: what he cooked, what people had liked, and what he had eaten, which, despite the multitude of dishes he'd made, usually amounted to nothing more than tastes, and his stomach would always growl on cue. Somehow they managed to leave the bed and go down to the kitchen for a snack before going back upstairs, where sex took on the flavors of whatever they'd eaten that night.

They had almost lost each other—a fact Bella was reminded of twice a day when she saw her toothbrush next to his in a cup on the sink. It was still a miracle to both of them, she knew, that somehow she had found her way back. They had moved all of her stuff from the apartment she had shared with Ted back to her father's house and into her old room because the space above the
tavern was so small. Bella's father appeared to like Sam no better now than he had when Sam first broke his daughter's heart. But Bella believed her father would soften. In the last few weeks her father had popped into the restaurant after he got off the train, often sitting at the bar for a beer and whatever special Sam had made that day. Bella knew the small talk was minimal, but Sam claimed to have hope that they could work up to complete sentences soon.

Sam wanted Bella to have a place of her own, but he didn't want her to leave him, so he hauled an old door and a couple of sawhorses upstairs and made them into a desk jammed into the eave. When he told her the desk was for her writing she had cried. They slept twisted together on the hammock-like mattress every night, and Bella commuted to the city three times a week to teach her classes at Hunter. It was an arrangement that worked for now because they were making up for lost time. But Bella knew, eventually, they would have to live like grown ups and get a real place.