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“She’ll look like whoever she looks like,” Drake said in a mock stern voice. “But I hope she looks like you,” he added and kissed my protest.
“Okay, you two,” the technician said with a laugh. “You’re all done now. See you again at eighteen weeks. Dr. McAllister will have the results and will call you.”
That Saturday night, at the end of February, Mersey was playing at O’Riley’s.
“I didn’t throw up at all today,” I said to Drake, while we sat in front of the television watching news and were waiting for our dinner to be ready. “I woke up at ten and stayed up.”
His face brightened. “Does this mean I have my wife back?”
“I hope so,” I said and crossed my fingers, holding them up for him to see.
He scooched closer to me and put his arms around me, pulling me tightly against him.
He kissed me and smiled. “Do you want to come to O’Riley’s to celebrate?” Drake asked. “We play two sets. You could come to the second one around eleven so we’ll have had time to warm up before you arrive. We’re usually stiff during the first set, and since there aren’t a lot of patrons in the bar, we don’t feel too bad. By the time you get there, we’ll be ready.”
I put the TV remote down and focused on him. “Do you mind if I come? I understand if you’d rather keep one portion of your meal from touching the other parts, but I’d love to hear you play with Ken and the boys. Besides, this is the first time I’ve felt well since becoming pregnant.”
Drake shook his head, his eyes meeting mine. “Baby, I’m in so deep, I don’t mind at all. I want a stew. A nice mélange of flavors all blending together. Come tonight.”
“Okay,” I said, nervous and excited to be going.
So it was that I sat at home alone in the 8th Avenue apartment, waiting for my ride to arrive. My father had graciously allowed me to use his limo service and so at around ten forty-five, I got a call from the driver that he was waiting downstairs. I finished brushing my hair and checked myself in the mirror, then I went out into the night, my stomach all butterflies, but in a good way.
The small stage was set up in the back of the bar, in the corner. There were a dozen small round tables on the floor as well as a lot of seating space at the bar itself. Behind the bar, a mirrored wall had shelves of glasses and bottles of liquor, as well as several kinds of beer on tap. The polished wood counter top looked ancient and the corners and edge were worn from years of use, although it had been recently revarnished and was smooth. Brass fixtures and railing lined the bar top.
Cocktail waitresses in black dresses with white aprons moved between t
he restaurant that was still busy, and the lounge. Canned music played in the background during the break between sets. About thirty patrons were in the pub itself.
Even though I had been there before for Sunday dinner, I stood in the entrance to the bar and took it in, feeling somewhat shy. One of the cocktail waitresses came up to me, her tray in hand filled with pints of beer.
“Can I help you?”
I hesitated, shrugging my shoulders. “I’m here to listen to Mersey.”
“Go into the bar and have a seat,” she said. “Colin’s bartending tonight.”
I thanked her and walked into the bar.
“Kate!” Colin waved me over when he saw me. He leaned over the bar and kissed my cheek. “I’m so glad you came tonight. What can I get you?” Colin asked, resting his hands on the bar. “Given your delicate condition, I have a selection of sodas and bar lime plus I can make you a mean virgin margarita or piña colada, if you want something fancy.”
“I’ll have a soda and lime,” I said. Then Sarah showed up and came over to give me a hug.
“So good to see you again,” she said. “How are you feeling? Drake told Ken you’d been really sick for the past few weeks.”
“Much better. Today was really the first day I didn’t throw up, so it’s time to celebrate.” I smiled at her and held up my glass of soda and bar lime.
Drake came out of the back room, with Ken following. He smiled when he saw me.
“Don’t crowd the poor girl,” he said and pushed past Ken in a playfully competitive manner. He leaned in and kissed me on the mouth, lingering there a tad longer than necessary, as if he wanted to claim me in front of everyone. He was grinning widely when he pulled away. “You’re just in time for the second set. All Rolling Stones and Beatles.”
“Will you be playing And I Love Her?” I asked softly, not wanting anyone else to hear.
“Count on it,” he replied and then kissed me again.
Mrs. O’Riley showed up as well, and said hello, planting a huge kiss on my cheek.
“So good to see you again, dear,” she said. “And congratulations on the great news! A little girl? Sophia Marie, or so Drake told us.”
