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“Violet,” Mom greeted me in surprise when she opened the door. “I was just on my way to pick you up.”
“Mom,” I cried.
Instantly, her smile melted from her face, her eyes creasing with concern,and she took me into her arms without hesitation.
“Sweetie,” she murmured. “What is it? Is it the baby?” Her tone was tinged with panic now.
“No, the baby is fine,” I pulled back from the hug.
“What did he do?” Swiss demanded, appearing from somewhere in the house. “If he hurt you—”
“He didn’t hurt me!” I yelled.
Swiss jumped back, obviously not expecting me to yell at him. And I did sound a bit manic, to be sure.
“He isnevergoing to hurt me,” I snapped at him. “So you can stand down. I get that you love me, that you want to make sure I’m happy and keep the threat of death and dismemberment over his head to ensure he keeps me that way. But newsflash, buddy, he doesn’t need the threat of death or dismemberment to treat me well. He treats me well. He cooks me dinner. He carries me to bed when I fall asleep at my desk. He rubs my feet. He buys me land in the desert and tells me he wants me todesign our house!”
Swiss slowly backed away once it became apparent that I had not been harmed in any way by Elden and he could not dismember him, realizing that I was hysterical for other reasons that were not easily fixed by violence.
“I’ll just be … finding all the potato chips we have in the house,” he muttered before scurrying .
“She doesn’t like potato chips anymore,” Mom called after him. “It’s pork skins!”
But Swiss was already gone.
“I’m not craving pork skins,” I hiccupped. “It’s green apples. But they have to be a certain kind of green. A fresh kind. And crunchy. And cold. Elden spends likefifteen minutesin the produce section looking for the perfect apples. Because he’s perfect. Yes, he’s a biker, and he’s too old for me—according to you, not me—yes, he’s ornery with a tortured past and wants to protect me from things I don’t need protecting from. But I love him and he loves me and we’re going to have a little girl—”
Mom let out a little scream. “A girl!”
I nodded. “We just found out.”
My breakdown stalled for a second so I could recall the memory at the doctors. We’d chosen to have the genetic blood tests—which thankfully all came up clear—and which also told us what we were having.
“Are you disappointed?” I asked Elden as we walked out of the doctor’s office, me clutching the new ultrasound picture where the baby actually looked like a baby now, not just some tadpole.
Elden hadn’t said much of anything since we found out.
“Disappointed?” He’d stopped walking, his voice strange.
“Yes,” I said in a timid voice. “That it’s not a boy you can craft into a badass and teach to shoot and ride and kill a man thirty different ways.” I looked down at the picture in my hands.
Elden grasped my chin, tilting it upward so I met his eyes. They were glassy with emotion.
“First off, our daughter is going to be her own kind of badass who can shoot, ride and kill a man thirty different ways.”
I smiled, though I was pretty sure it wasn’t a joke.
“Second,” he said, softer now. “Seeing our baby, hearing her heartbeat, finding out she’s healthy… One of the best moments of my life.” He stroked my face. “Just tryin’ to figure out how the fuck I got the whole world and how I’m gonna protect it. Treasure it.”
“Why didn’t you call me?” my mother demanded, hurtling me back into the present.
“Because, Mom, I was amping up for this breakdown,” I groaned, the beautiful memory making my throat burn hotter.
She sobered. “Right.”
“He loves me and bought us land and wants to marry me and give me a life I couldn’t have even fantasized about, but… I’m scared.” I searched her face, hating what I was about to say. “I don’t trust myself. Don’t trust it. Because what if…”
“What if he turns out to be some kind of monster like the one that you never knew your father was?” my mother vocalized the thought that I’d been trying to push away for so long.
