Winter
2011
She smothers a smile as she pushes open the door that leads to her oldest child’s room. Only the nightlight is on. The stuffed animals and dolls scattered around the room cast large, exaggerated shadows on the walls. The floor is littered with dolls and clothes and a baby carriage, one wheel still spinning slowly, lies on its side. She surmises that it was the source of the noise she’’d heard downstairs.
In the midst of the clutter, two little faces stare at her with large eyes. Dolls sit mid-change on their laps. “It’s time for all good little girls to be in bed,” she says softly.
“But we were,” Claudia begins to explain, holding her doll out in front of her.
“No buts,” she stops her youngest daughter. “Bed.” She sighs as she surveys the room. Toys and dress-up clothes are piled around the toy chest. She plucks the crown off Molly’s head and nudges her to her bed. “I’ll come back in a minute to tuck you in. Come on, Claud, beddy-bye time.”
Claudia rises to the tops of her toes. “Up, Mommy.” She holds out her arms and bounces a little.
Mac offers her hand and hopes that her little girl will accept it instead. But Claudia only shakes her head and repeats, “Up.”
Sighing, she gives in and hauls the child to her hip. “Okay, sugar, bedtime.” She pulls Molly’s door shut behind them and walks to Claudia’s room.
“Mommy,” she declares, “I want to sleep in Molly’s room tonight.” Claudia wraps her arms around her mother’s shoulders and rests her chin against Mac’s clavicle.
“Not tonight.”
“Yes, tonight,” Claudia insists. Her lips pucker into a frown and she nods against Mac’s neck.
“You need your sleep if you’re going to play in the snow tomorrow.” She pushes open the door to Claudia’s room. When she turns on the nightlight, she realizes tiny fingers must have been hard at work because the room fills with music. Little tinkling notes float into the corners of the room and settle in the shadows. Claudia has lined her stuffed animals up on her bed and tucked a few beneath her comforter.
“They got cold,” she explains to her mother.
“Well, how about we put you in bed, too?” She pulls the blankets down and lowers Claudia to the mattress.
“Can
I have the fish light tonight?” She smiles at her mother. “You
wouldn’t let me sleep in Molly’s room.”
Mac reaches across the bed and turns on the soft light that makes fish
appear on the wall. As the lamp turns on its base, the fish swim over
the pale blue and white walls. Claudia claps her hands and snuggles under
her covers. “Night, Mommy.” She lifts her arms for her hug
and kiss.
Kissing her nose, she murmurs, “Night, baby,” before slipping quietly out of the room.
Late Summer 2004
They were barely speaking to each other. July had sailed into August, the days merging and blending into a stream of hot, humid days. The sharp, bright light of summer was fading into a softer hue as fall moved closer. The sun set minutes earlier each day and the nights were getting a little cooler. Before she had realized it, she was sliding into her second trimester and was starting to show. She could start telling people but she found that the words were locked tightly away. It was something she had once looked forward to and now she couldn’t do it. She knew she had to tell the Admiral, but she couldn’t push the words out of her mouth. She didn’t want to have to answer the questions that she knew she would be asked. She didn’t want to have to tell people the story of the shotgun wedding proposal and so she said nothing and each day that passed and she stayed mute, the words moved a little farther away.
But on the day her zipper started to strain, she realized she had to say something. And she owed it to him to talk to him first. She brushed a piece of lint off her skirt and knocked on his apartment door. Licking her lips, she clasped her hands in front of her and waited for him to open it. Through the metal, she could hear whispers of movement inside and she had to clamp down on the desire to turn and run.
“Mac,” he said as he opened the door, “what are you doing here?”
“I need to talk to you.” She leaned forward to see over his shoulder and into his apartment. “Is this a bad time or can I come in?”
He glanced back into the room and stepped out into the hall. “Why don’t we go out?” he suggested. “It’s a mess. I’ve been doing a few repairs.” He grabbed his keys and pushed her out into the hallway. He had taken his frustration out on his apartment and was in the process of putting it back together.
“I – okay.” She tucked a lock of hair behind her ears and followed him down the stairs and outside.
“A café okay?” He called over his shoulder, careful not to make eye contact or look too closely at her. He was unprepared for her visit. He needed a little more time away from her before he could think about what to do next, but here she was and he was, once again, left with very few choices about how to handle the situation.
“It’s fine,” she sighed.
She tried to picture herself on the street. Stared at her reflection and imagined that she could join it on the sidewalk. The air was soft and still. There were no clouds and the first stars were beginning to appear in the sky. She knew that if she stood up and walked out the café door, she could be at the Capitol in twenty minutes, maybe less. She could stand on its terrace and see the city spread out before her. The monuments would be lit against the night sky, the clear white lights surrounding them, giving them weight and presence even in the dark. She could almost feel the air on her face and the stone railings beneath her hands when he placed a tall glass of iced tea in front of her.
“Thank,” she said, pulling her gaze from the window and her escape.
“Welcome.”
She sighed and folded her hands on the tabletop. “We need to talk.”
“You said that already.” He leaned back in his chair and crossed his ankle over his knee. Steam from his coffee cup rose over the table and disappeared into the air-conditioned room. His gaze shifted to the window and he hoped he looked like he was unaffected by the pregnant woman sitting across from him.
“I have to tell the Admiral.” She poured sugar into her tea and stirred. The spoon and ice clanked against the walls of the glass.
“So tell him,” he shrugged. He wanted to wince as he heard how harsh he sounded, but he kept his expression neutral. He wanted to ask about the baby. He wanted to ask about her. About why she had walked away again. The questions were jumbled and confused and piled up on top of each other until he couldn’t separate them and so he said nothing.
She hissed the words out between her teeth. “Any chance that you’ll stop acting like a jackass anytime soon?”
He sat up and looked at her. “Me?”
“Yes, you.” She wanted to shout, but she dug her nails into her palms until she could regain control of her volume. “Just because I didn’t say yes to your little proposal, you-”
Resting his elbows on the table, he breathed deeply and tried to control his temper as he interrupted, “Little proposal?” he repeated. “Well, that’s lovely, Mac. Really nice way to make everything better.”
“Well,
what would you call it? True love?” she asked, regretting the words
as they left her mouth. She hadn’t wanted to fight with him. She
wanted to start over or find a way to put the pieces back together, but
the hurt from his hasty proposal lingered. Like a bee sting, the place
where the words had landed was swollen and sore. It itched and nagged
at her until she found herself hurting him in an attempt to appease her
own discomfort.
A table of women, girls in college really, giggled in a corner of the
café. Over her shoulder, he could see people playing chess. The
sound of milk being steamed hissed out over the restaurant. A bell over
the door rang once as it opened and again as it closed. He listened to
the sounds of the café, feeling the marble tabletop warm beneath
his hand, and waited for the words to come. Words other than yes. Yes,
he thought it was love, but now he wasn’t sure. “I honestly
don’t know what to say.”
She pushed her hair back from her face. “I’m sorry,” she breathed the words out on a sigh. She bit her lower lip before continuing, “I’m not going to marry you.”
“I think it’s fair to say I got that,” he said. “I think it would also be fair to say that the offer is no longer on the table.”
She nodded. “Yeah,” her voice was quiet. Her fingers twisted around the spoon, it’s edges bit into her hand. “I know,” she said. “The thing is – The reason I said no.” She blew out a soft breath that fluttered the ends of her hair. “You grew up with two parents who loved you and each other. Even when your mother married Frank, she still loved you. My parents hated each other. So much that my mom left me to get away from him. I don’t want that for this baby.”
He rolled his shoulders and forced himself to look at her. “It wouldn’t be like that for this baby.”
“You don’t know that,” she argued. “Were you listening to us? We’ve gotten so good at hurting each other. Do you honestly think a marriage would stop that?” She released her grip on the spoon and trailed her fingers over the condensation on the glass. “You don’t love me, Harm. How long would it be until you felt trapped and unhappy?”
His jaw clenched and his hand tightened on the mug’s handle. “I never said that.”
“You didn’t have to. It’s what would happen.”
“No,” he exhaled sharply, “I never said I didn’t love you.”
She blinked. “You have no idea,” she said quietly, “how much I want to believe that.” She leaned her head in her hands and stared at her lap.
“Mac,” he started to reach across the table, but his hand fell back onto his leg, “how could you not-”
She shook her head. Her movements rattled the table, making their drinks slosh in their cups. A puddle of iced tea formed around her elbow. “I don’t know.” Dashing a finger below her eyes, she glanced up. “You never said – I just assumed.” Her shoulders rose and fell as she took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. “What was all that crap about simplifying things?”
He
grabbed a pile of napkins and began to sponge up the mess on the table.
“You weren’t answering me.” He shrugged, wishing he
had a better explanation. “I panicked.”
“Oh.” She cupped her chin in her palm and focused on the street.
“Oh,” she murmured into her palm. “Well, don’t
I feel silly. I must have just read you wrong. I mean, I assumed when
you said that the baby was the reason, it meant you were proposing because
of the baby. Silly me.” Her voice was bitter.
“That wasn’t it.”
“How was I supposed to know?” she demanded, turning her attention back to him. “You didn’t say anything.”
“Would it have made it better?” he questioned. “Would you have believed me?” He saw her flinch and he knew she had already thought of that.
“We’ll never know, will we?” She picked up her purse and shoved her chair back from the table. “We should work out a custody agreement,” she said. “I don’t know how we ever thought we could work things out on our own. I’m going to go now. I’m tired.”
His hand clamped down on hers. “Stay.”
“Why?”
“Because I asked.”
She paused. “Can we,” she bit her lip and looked outside, “can we take a walk instead? I need fresh air.”
He nodded and followed her to the door. “Where to?”
“You pick,” she said.
“The Hill okay with you?”
She sniffled and nodded. “Yeah,” she said, “that’s perfect.”