AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“I don’t know,” he’d said. “I guess that’s the way God intended it.”
“You’re wrong,” I told him. “If God had intended women to suffer he wouldn’t have invented birth control.”
He looked at me funny.
“Or narcotics,” I added.
“God, I love you,” he said.
I don’t know why he said that. But I was relieved. I didn’t say it back. Some things are too precious to lie about.
Tom meets my eye then as though he knows what I’m thinking. But he can’t. I watch as he takes steaks from the refrigerator. If we’re having red meat, it must be a special occasion. My husband is very particular about his health. Husband. That word didn’t bother me as much as the word that is supposed to come after it. Mother. The thought sucker-punches me. Sweat beads at my temples; my knees feel weak. I might faint. I watch as Tom pulls the raw steaks from the marinade and places them on a platter. The sight reminds me of the birth video. I have to look away.
“There’s something I want to discuss with you,” he says catching my attention. “After dinner.”
He knows.
“Which is why I was hoping you would have read the agreement.”
I feel the blood rush to my cheeks. “I told you. I was sick!”
I wait for him to say something. He doesn’t. He simply washes his hands carefully, soaping them twice. Then he deftly dries them. I hate the way he’s so calm about everything.
I open a drawer, pretend I’m searching for something, and then slam it shut. “Aren’t you going to say anything?”
Tom cocks his head. “What’s there to say?”
“I don’t know—how about I’m sorry you’re sick? How about I’m sorry for knocking you up?”
“Here,” he offers. “I think you should sit down.” He walks around the bar and pulls out a chair. There’s a smirk on his face. It’s faint, but I see it nonetheless. I want to knock it right off.
“I don’t want to sit.”
“Y
ou shouldn’t get so upset in your condition. You really need to take it easy.”
My condition. That’s one way to put it. God. My hand moves to my still-flat stomach. Instantly, I feel relieved. I’m not ready to get fat. I’m not ready to be anyone’s mother. Honestly, I don’t think I’ll ever be ready. I can’t say that’s changed, and yet, I can’t tell him the truth. Not yet.
“You’re going to be a mother,” he tells me. “That means putting what you want aside, Melanie.” His tone is bitter, and I hate it when he calls me by my full name. This and the fact that he combined it with the M word makes my head spin. Just the thought of someone calling me mommy makes me dizzy. My throat tightens. I feel my organs being crushed, panic rushing to the surface. This is why I can’t sleep. I can’t breathe. I’m suffocating in my lies.
Tom doesn’t notice. He pushes the cutting board my way. “Can you finish slicing the cucumber?”
“I thought you wanted me to take it easy?”
“Well, I have to tend to the grill.” His brow lifts. “I assume you want to eat.”
I roll my eyes and step toward him. He hands me the knife.
“You are so beautiful,” he tells me, his hand on mine. I stare at them, our fingers intertwined, gripping the knife. Something in me melts. Or at least it wants to. I’ve never felt more together, more a part of something. I’ve never felt more alone. I read on the internet what I’m supposed to feel, what I’m supposed to think, and I try to make it come naturally. But it rarely does. It takes so much pretending to be this way. People have no idea. It’s only fun sometimes. Mostly, it’s exhausting.
Ask him for the money.
“I was thinking about going shopping tomorrow… Nothing fits.”
He murmurs something I can’t make out.
I shift from foot to foot. “Tom?”
