Late
Spring 2004
The early evening shadows stretched across her apartment floor, leaving small patches of sunlight on the walls and furniture. It was almost summer and the sun was setting a little more slowly, lingering a little longer on the horizon. She had been watching the spots of light for over an hour as they waxed and waned with the sun’’s movements. Her feet were coated in dark now; the red polish looked shades darker than it had been when she first put it on.
Her arms were wrapped around her knees; her head rested against the back of the couch. She had been sitting in that position for so long that her muscles felt frozen. Harden and set like she had become a figurine of herself. She pushed a heel against a cushion and nearly winced as her muscles let her know their discontent. She needed to move; she needed to find him.
It had been cowardly to leave before he could get his bearings. But she had needed the space and time to think without him hovering over her and so she left. She slipped out of the office and out of the building before he could find her. She felt guilty and she knew he would accuse her of running away. Which, to be fair, she did.
The knock on her door didn’t startle her. Although it surprised her that it didn’t come sooner. She smoothed a stray hair back into the ponytail she had pulled it up in and levered her body off the couch. “Hi,” she said quietly as she opened the door. “Come on in.” She stepped back and held the door open for him.
“Why’d you leave? Are you feeling okay?” he asked without preamble. His hands fiddled with his cover, turning it around and around in his hands.
“I’m fine.” She walked back to the couch, tucking her legs beneath her and angling her body to watch him. “I just needed some time to think.”
“About what?” He sank into a chair and braced his elbows on its arms.
“What do you mean ‘about what’?” she snapped the words out, then sighed and ran her fingers over her toenails, examining them for chips and trying to collect her thoughts.
“I just meant have you decided what you want to do?” he explained, rephrasing the question. His fingers tensed and flexed on the armrests.
“I – it looks like we’re having a baby,” she said, shrugging. The words and the tone sounded casual and she wondered how she managed to pull it off. Her stomach was queasy and she had a headache building behind her eyes. And she hoped that he wouldn’t ask her a difficult question, like how she was feeling. Because she couldn’t answer it, or at least answer it truthfully. She shifted slightly and tugged at the hem of her shorts as she waited for his response.
He tilted his head back and stared at the ceiling of her apartment. The shadows were a little longer and only his face and shoulders remained in the sunlight. “Uh,” he started and then stopped. “It looks – this is what you want to do?” He leaned forward and wove his fingers together.
“You don’t want it?” Cold seeped into her skin, trickling slowly through her pores and her hand tightened on the afghan on her couch. She hadn’t considered that. She knew she was overwhelmed. Terrified by the prospect of being a parent and not being ready for it. But she wasn’t a young girl who had to worry about providing for her baby. The truth was, she wasn’t young anymore. The biological clock she once mentioned to him only had a finite amount of time left on it. She had thought she was ready for it, but now that the time was finally here, she couldn’t help but wish that she had just a little more time to prepare herself.
“No, yes,” he said, “I didn’t say that.” He moved to the couch and sat down next to her. He raised a shoulder and let it drop. “I think I was trying to be supportive.”
“Oh.” She brushed a hand over a cushion. “So what do we do now?”
“I don’t know.”
She sighed and looked out the window. The sunset had doused the city in pale pinks and reds and the bricks outside her windows were painted an orange-red under the sun’s rays. Across the street, people were flicking on lamps and drawing their blinds. Through an open window, she could hear the sounds of dirt and gravel shifting beneath wheels as cars slid into parking spaces. Car doors opened and slammed shut as people returned home from work.
“Well,” she said, ““we’re both lawyers. Should we – do you think we should work out custody and things like that?”
“Mac,” he elongated her name on a sigh. “We have eight months. I think we can wait.” He raised an eyebrow. “Besides, I’d like to think we could be adults about this.”
“Could we?” she asked, doubt creeping into her voice. “I don’t know about that.” She laid a hand on his forearm and rubbed her thumb over his wrist. “Sometimes I don’t even know if we’ll be talking to each other from one week to the next.”
His free hand covered hers, patting her fingers a little. “So we’ll work harder,” he suggested.
“I guess,” she agreed. “We’re going to be stuck with each other for the next eighteen years or so.” She eased closer to him and laid her head on his shoulder.
His chin angled over her head. “Anything you can dish out, I can take.”
“We’ll see about that.” She let out a small laugh and pulled herself closer to his body.
“What do you say you come back to my place and I’ll make dinner? I’ll drive you back,” he offered. “If we’re really lucky, Mattie will have a long, involved story that will take hours to tell and end with ‘I guess you had to be there.’”
Chuckling, she nodded. “That sounds like a good idea.” But she didn’t move and he didn’t stand up. “Harm?” she asked quietly.
“Yes.” His voice was hushed, too.
“We’re going to be parents.”
“I know.”
The room was dark now and cool. She could hear people on the street as they went out for dinner, or just out. The sunset was fading, leaving the sky a clear blue. Her head nestled into the corner of his neck and shoulder and she sighed a little. His fingers tightened on hers and they watched as the last of the light slipped from the sky.