Authors: Faye McCray
“Kerry.” Her name escaped my mouth a little too loudly as I saw I had missed her call. A text message had just come through: “Call me when you can.” I glanced over at Allison who was still sleeping and snuck into the bathroom where I could barely contain myself as I dialed her number.
“Hi,” she said when she picked up.
“Hi,” I whispered.
“Why are you whispering?”
“Oh, I’m at work,” I lied. “I’m in the bathroom.”
She was quiet for a moment. “Can you get away?”
“What? Like now?” I asked.
“Yes.”
“Did you want to talk?” Maybe she hadn’t been answering my calls because she was ending things with her fiancé. Maybe she finally wanted to tell me in person that she was ready to do this. That she was ready for us to be together.
“Can you meet?”
“Of course.”
“An hour at your place?”
“Yes.”
I walked out of the bathroom slowly, wondering what I would tell Allison.
“Hey,” she said as I approached. She was getting dressed. “Natalie and Cole will be home soon. I’m pretty sure it would gross her out if she knew we had sex at her kitchen table… and then took a naked nap on her couch.” She laughed, her cheeks full and beaming. She was happy. I knew she had been waiting for this moment.
“Well, maybe I should get going,” I said pulling on my pants.
She looked at me confused. “What?”
“I don’t want them getting the wrong idea.” I was struggling to figure out what to say next.
“Wrong idea? Nate, I don’t understand.”
I walked closer to her and touched her shoulder. “What happened just now…”
“…was good,” she interrupted, reaching out for me. I took her hand and placed it at her side.
“Yes. I just… I just don’t want to rush back into something when we haven’t even really talked about all the shit between us.”
“What?” she asked shaking her head. “What “shit” between us? What was between us was good, Nate. It has been good. We had a fight but we love each other. We made a baby.” She gestured towards her stomach, tears beginning to pour from her eyes.
I looked away. I wanted to get back to my place and get a shower before Kerry got there.
“Look at me, Nate. Why are you doing this? You come here drunk. You tell me you love me and you’re sorry… we have sex… and now you don’t know?”
“Allison,” I began, shaking my head.
“No! This is fucked up… you’re fucked up.”
I took a deep breath and braced myself.
“You know, I knew you were damaged, Nate. I loved you
because
you were damaged. I am, too. But you believed them. They told you that you were fucked up and you believed them. They told you that you could never be happy, and you believed them. What we have is good, Nate. It can keep being good.”
I started to speak but was at a loss. She didn’t understand that what I had with Kerry was better. I knew if I had the chance to be with her again, my life would be what it should have been… not this. I glanced at the clock over the stove in Natalie’s kitchen. It had been ten minutes since Kerry and I had spoken.
Through her tears, Allison laughed. “It won’t last.”
“What?” I asked, wondering if she had overheard me in the bathroom. Did she know about Kerry? Did she know I was choosing Kerry over her?
“Any happiness that you hope to have won’t last until you stop running from who you are, Nate. Until you learn to accept who you are and be happy with that. Until you learn that someone can actually love you for who you are. That I actually love you for who you are.”
I was irritated that she trying to diagnose me when she had no clue what was going on. “You don’t know me as well as you think you do,” I spat.
“Maybe I don’t.” She shook her head slowly. “Just go.”
Suddenly extremely sober, I grabbed my keys and started to go.
“Nate,” she said, just as I pulled open the door. I turned and looked at her. She reached into her purse which was on the floor by the couch. She pulled a small glossy piece of paper out and threw it at my feet. “It’s a girl.”
I looked down at the sonogram picture, laying face up on the floor. I looked back at her one more time before walking out slowly and shutting the door.
***
Kerry wasn’t there when I arrived so I had time to jump in the shower and change my clothes. Allison’s words sliced through me like tiny razor blades as I washed. I had left her in pain with no resolution and now I was questioning if she was right. I wonder if running fast and far wasn’t the way to find happiness, if sometimes, you just had to stand still and fight.
When I got out of the shower, I straightened up. The evidence of weeks of drinking was all over my apartment. If I was going to make it work with Kerry, I needed to try harder. I knew I had to be honest. I resolved to tell her about Allison and the baby. She was engaged. She had to understand.
An hour passed and Kerry still had not shown up. I texted her to see if she was okay, wondering if maybe I had missed her or she had gotten held up. When she didn’t respond, I ordered us dinner. I figured she would probably be hungry when she finally arrived.
Three hours later, the dinner I had ordered was cold, and Kerry still had not shown up.
I called. I texted.
No answer. No response.
I grabbed a bottle of half empty rum from my cabinet and poured a glass.
“This is bullshit, Kerry,” I yelled into her voice mailbox, clutching the now empty bottle in my hand. “If you just wanted to fuck, you should have let me know. If that little bitch you’re with isn’t handling shit the way you like, you should have just let me know and I could have talked to him about how you like to be fucked. No need to play these childish games with me.” I hung up, sending the phone flying across my apartment where it crashed into the floor.
Moments later, I picked it up again. The screen cracked and the battery was across the room. I put the battery back in and dialed her number.
“Look, I’m sorry,” I said, much more somberly. “I was mad, but now I am really more worried about you. Just text me and let me know you’re okay.” I hung up the phone feeling both fucked up and crazy. I collapsed on my bed and passed out.
***
Phil showed up the next night just as I had poured myself a screwdriver with the last of the orange juice. Keith had just left a message on my cell telling me that if I didn’t show up for my shift the next day, I shouldn’t bother coming in. I was considering his offer. Phil walked in slowly wearing another well-tailored suit and carrying a garment bag. He took a big step over a pizza box and looked around.
“Whew,” he said navigating his way to my couch. “This is worse than when we were in college.” I shrugged. “Ally lets you keep it like this?”
“That’s done.” I took a swig of my drink and stared into space.
He shook his head in disbelief. Phil liked Allison. We had lunch with him and Ana last time he was in town. We sat talking at Sushi Samba, our favorite sushi spot in the city, for two hours after we had finished our food, laughing about our time in college and the dumb things we had done. Phil was looking forward to starting his new job in the city so we could hang out more, and Ana couldn’t wait for us to have the baby.
“Should I even ask what happened?” Phil said putting the garment bag down and sitting on the couch. I took a drink.
“You know me…” I flashed him a mockingly-wide smile. I’d been so stupid. I threw away what I had with Allison for a possibility with Kerry. At least I knew there was one way I was different from my father. At least I was giving this kid the head start of not having a perpetual fuck-up in her life.
Her life.
I pictured the sonogram picture at my feet.
“I
do
know you,” Phil said jolting me out of my thoughts. “And knowing you, you probably didn’t try.”
I took another drink. “What’s that?” I pointed to the garment bag.
“Your tux. Since you decided not to show up for the fitting, I’m bringing it to you. Allison told me your size when I called a few weeks ago, so I’m hoping you don’t need to make any adjustments. I had to lie and tell Ana you were sick. She was ready to cut you from the wedding.”
“When is it again?”
“When?” Phil shook his head in disgust. “I know you’re not serious.” I stared at him as I finished my glass. “Wow,” he muttered.
“I’ve had a lot going on.”
“Care to share?”
“Not really.”
“Two weeks from Sunday, Nate,” he said after a moment. “All I need is for you to be at home, showered, and in the suit. The limo will pick you up. Okay?”
I nodded.
“Fuck, Nate. Don’t fuck this up,” he said raising his voice.
“Okay… shit.”
We were silent.
“I saw Kerry,” I said breaking the silence. Phil looked at me waiting for me to continue. “We slept together, and I left Allison.”
“Are you and Kerry back together?” he asked, looking both shocked and confused.
“I have no idea. I haven’t seen her since.” I took a deep breath. “And she’s engaged.”
“Wow,” Phil started. After a moment, he laughed. “It never ceases to amaze me the way you complicate your life, man.” He leaned back into the couch and laughed again. I wanted to be annoyed by his laughter but it made the moment lighter and I had begun to feel so heavy. I smiled.
“Man.” I sighed. “I don’t know what I’m doing.”
“That’s clear,” Phil said in between laughter. “Does Allison know about Kerry?”
“I don’t think so.”
“Then it’s not too late to get her back.”
“You sound like my sister.”
“She’s carrying your kid. Besides, you and Kerry will never work. I responded to a text my ex-girlfriend sent me
two years ago
and Ana is
still
bringing that shit up when we fight.” He laughed. “You slept with Kerry’s best friend… over and over again. She will never move past that.”
“Well she did a few nights ago…”
“No, Nate. She slept with you. There’s a difference.”
I got up to pour myself another drink.
“Look,” he said rising. “I’ve got to go. Ana and I are meeting the wedding planner to go over our seating chart. I have to make sure my Dad and his girlfriend are nowhere near my mother… or her sisters.”
“Okay.”
“And maybe you should ease up on that,” he added gesturing towards my freshly-refilled cup. I looked down at my glass and took a sip as he closed the door.
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
I had chicken pox when I was seven years old. I remember how it slowly made its way around my second grade class like a pinball knocking out the kid in front of me, the one beside me, the last kid in the third row to my right and finally, me. I remember feeling like someone had hit me with a baseball bat, and all I wanted to do was learn to simultaneously scratch and fall asleep.
My mother panicked.
My sister and I rarely got sick and, when we did, it was usually mild and did little to slow us down. This time I could barely lift my head up. Even my father, who was habitually indifferent to my existence, stood in the threshold of the doorway to my bedroom, staring down at me and questioning my mother about whether she was doing all she could. I remember overhearing my mother on the phone with Aunt Laura in the hallway outside of our bedroom.
“The fever won’t go down,” she said in a high-pitched panic. Shortly after, she was stripping off my clothes and placing me a in a cool bath. I remember feeling like I was crying but surprised when no tears streamed down my face.
I finally started to feel better on a Sunday morning. I woke to the sun pouring into my bedroom window and forming what seemed like a halo around my mother who had fallen asleep on the floor beside me. I smiled at her, and she beamed, stroking my hair in a way I had never remembered her doing.
“He feels cool, Nate,” she yelled to my father. My father and Natalie appeared in the doorway staring in at me. My father’s eyes wide with relief. Natalie smiled her toothless smile and started into my room. My father swiftly blocked her with his arm.
“Don’t be a fucking idiot. You want to get sick, too?”