It wasn’t a conscious act, holding her breath. Nor was it her choice to have a hot, jagged knife rip through her chest. Expecting the words, suspecting the truth, didn’t lessen the torture they brought listening to him explain how he came over to start a casual relationship, and that his kiss had nothing to do with her pleasure or even expressing his feelings, other than thumping his chest, that is.
They had not parted in anger, well, not toward each other anyway; but they had not parted with spoken promises either.
He had given her exactly what she had asked for, honesty, even at the cost of her suffering. It had been obvious that she was not alone in that. As promised, she accepted his answer, but that didn’t make it easy to swallow.
Kissing him goodbye had been bittersweet. Nothing was set in stone, as far as their relationship went, but they were both on the same page. That was something, at least, something that balanced all the “I don’t knows.” Their path was not going to be easy, but at least they both seemed to be willing to entertain the possibility.
Knowing where he was headed and what he would face only made things worse. Tomorrow was the anniversary of Troy’s death. John would fly back to where he was buried and spend the night at his grave, flogging himself with guilt. Stacy quit going with him a few years back. She said she couldn’t watch him carry that weight. “I watch him shoulder that shit every single fucking day, but I can’t stomach it on that particular one anymore. It’s like it weighs ten times as much.” Stacy had told Gus that last year when John took off.
There was a moment where Gus thought the sun was breaking through the emotional storm clouds they had created—a split second where she believed John looked at her with love, and even fancied the words were coming, but they didn’t. John confessed that he cared deeply for her, and he wished to explore where things were headed. He was willing to see if he could stand by her, as more than her friend, for the remainder of the pregnancy. She appreciated the gesture, but she would never allow it. Opening that wound had not been easy for him, and she refused to rub salt in it.
As devastated as she was, the logical part of Gus believed that once this pregnancy was over and little Butterbean was in the loving arms of Marco and Andy, then John would be better equipped to cope. However, right now, it wasn’t the logical part that was in charge, it was all emotions, all the way.
The sound of her front door brought her attention outward. January was sound asleep. She had gotten in late last night then sat up with Gus until all hours of the morning, so her little sister was wiped out. And there was only one other person who would be so bold as to come through the front door unannounced.
“I’m in here, hooker,” Gus yelled in the direction of the front. Sure enough, just as she suspected, Stacy came charging in. She threw her designer bag to the floor and rushed to Gus’ side. Gus didn’t even have a chance to sit up, not that she had the energy to anyway.
“What happened, Pixie Pants? John called me last night and told me everything went to shit and that you would need me first thing, but to let you sleep. So, spill?”
That was just like John, even with all his own stuff going on, he always thought of the people he cared for first. Many a night he had called on Gus to check on Stacy, or bring her pizza, or whatever. If he felt Stacy needed someone to talk to and wouldn’t ask, he’d send Gus for one reason or another.
Now, he did it for me. Despite what he believed was the case, John was a good guy. He couldn’t seem to see it in himself, but he was. No matter that he slept with her for all the wrong reasons, it was obvious, looking into the face of his sister, that he cared.
“First off, my problems aside, how are you doing? I know that—”
“I adore the fuck out of you, Pixie, and I appreciate how you always try to help me with all this emotional crap, but I’m good. Really. I have Dax and Macy, and this whole big family who love all this touchy-feely crap.” There was sadness in her voice, but it wasn’t overwhelming as expected.
“Really?”
“Really. I’m in an okay place with it. It’s challenging, but I worry more for John than myself. Who would have thought, I would be more well-adjusted than him?” Stacy paused reflectively, then snapped back to her typical self. “Okay, so spill it.”
“Well, where do I start? Went out with Jesse. Awkward. When he tried to kiss me goodnight, John opened the door. Awkwarder. Then, we made love, and he said he only did it out of jealousy. Awkwardest.”
“Wow, you must be tired because half of those weren’t even words.”
“That’s what you got from that? How are we even friends?”
Gus’ pain was still real, raw, but a little banter with her BFF was called for.
“Well, yeah. I mean, what are we, twelve? Anyway, skip the made-up words and just get to the point. Why does my brother sound like someone just told him Santa isn’t real and my bestie looks like she was rode hard and put away wet…and not in the good way, either.” Stacy’s voice shifted from playful to serious in less than a millisecond. “Seriously, you made love to the man you love, why are you both so miserable?”
“Because we are. John finally opened up about his issue with this pregnancy, and I finally opened my legs, but sex doesn’t cure everything.”
“Then you aren’t doing it right, Pixie. Sex does cure everything when two people love each other.”
“That’s just it, John made no promises, spoke no words of love. But even so, I was fine with that. I was even okay with the fact that our potential relationship may be on hold while he deals with his crap and I give birth. What I am having an issue with is he admitted to sleeping with me just because he couldn’t stand me dating.”
Stacy was silent, like she was listening to a testimony and preparing her cross-examination. When she spoke, Gus realized how accurate that was.
“That doesn’t sound like John. Making love to you just to keep you from dating, I mean. Were those his exact words? If not, could what he said have another meaning besides the obvious. Many times, it is those meanings that are more important than the definition of the words.”
Gus should have expected this; she is his sister after all. She got out of bed and stood there looking at her friend, trying to discern if she could be objective. “Of course, you’d take his side,” she said, defeated.
When Stacy rose and stood in front of her, she could see her friend had nothing but love for her, and she wasn’t really taking sides.
“That’s unfair, and you know it. I just want to help you both. I think you two are fucking meant to be, and if I can help make that happen, then I will. Besides, I can’t stand seeing you hurt like this.”
Throwing herself into her friend’s arms felt good, comforting. “He said he kissed me to erase the punk’s attempt to. He said he carried me to bed because he didn’t see why we couldn’t engage in mutual pleasure. That if I had needs, why couldn’t I turn to him to fill them. That he couldn’t bear the thought of someone else…um…being with me in that way.” As liberated as Gus felt and as blatant as Stacy was, she still couldn’t seem to quote John.
Stacy pulled away. “I need details if I…wait, no, ew. Not that kind of detail, but as much as you can manage without making me throw up in my mouth.”
Once they were seated back on the bed, Gus shared as much detail as she could without, as Stacy said, traumatizing her with naked information about her brother.
“It sounds to me like he made the first move out of jealousy and thumping his chest, saying I am man, hear me roar, but, he made love to you because he cares about you.” Yeah, Gus had to agree. Once she had her emotions under control, that’s exactly what it sounded like. But she didn’t know if she could tell her bruised heart and ego that.
A knock at the door reminded her of a small detail she had forgotten. “Shit, that’s the dynamic duo, we have an appointment today.” Gus yelled, “Come in!” and proceeded to get dressed and brush her teeth in record time.
“Listen to the potty mouth on you,” Stacy quipped.
When Andy appeared in her bedroom doorway, Stacy collected her purse from the floor. “I’m going to go see how John is doing on this shitshow of a morning,” she told Gus. Turning her attention to Andy, Gus observed a lot of unspoken…something between them. “Take care of my girl there and make sure to stop for ice cream. Pregnant bitches love ice cream.” Andy inclined his head and squeezed her bicep. Gus watched him mouth the words “thank you” to her friend, but it was Stacy who gave him a look of gratitude.
“Oh great, so he knows, too? Does everyone know?”
Stacy turned back and dropped a kiss on her cheek. “Yes, he knows, and no, everyone doesn’t. It was a need to know thing, and Andy fucking needs to know. Besides, he’s got your back, little mama, and not just because of that belly of yours.”
Then she was gone and Gus was on her way to her final pre-natal appointment before her due date with a very concerned Andy and Marco.
Gus had thought her talk with Stacy and logical analysis of her and John’s…whatever it was, had put everything in to perspective. Not that she had a whole lot of time to reflect on much of it. Marco and Andy were fixers, and being stuck in the car with two fixers for fifty minutes butted up against torture. I’m pretty sure an iron maiden would’ve been more comfortable.
Not that they weren’t helpful. They usually brought a unique wisdom to the table, but she felt trapped. Gus processed better in open spaces, a place where she could pace and think. Somehow, the motion of her legs helped her brain work or petting her cats; that always helped, too.
Gus was thrilled when they arrived and she could get out of the car and stretch her legs. Not to mention the doctor’s office was no place for the kind of conversation they were having. Thank God.
But her earlier perception of perspective was blown out of the water at the words, “You’re dilated about two centimeters, Miss Thorne, looks like you are going to be having a baby.”
Talk about perspective? That made things clear. All the other stuff in her life meant virtually nothing in the face of bringing a healthy child into this world.
The upbeat tone the doctor spoke in did nothing to calm the nerves of all three of the other people in the room. Even though they all knew pregnancy meant labor and labor meant delivery and so on, ending in a new life, they were all shocked.
Gus thought Marco might faint any minute now. Andy looked on apologetically. She wasn’t sure if the look was meant for her or Marco, but it was there all the same.
“But…how? I mean, I’m not writhing in pain. I have a little backache, but that’s nothing new.”
“Despite how it happens in the movies, for some women, the first stages of labor are slow and gradual. And mercifully, relatively painless. Go home, relax. Enjoy the calm before the storm, so to speak. I’ll alert admitting to have your suite on stand-by. These things take time, it could be a week, or it could happen as early as tomorrow.”
Marco piped in, “Honey, we knew this time would come, don’t sweat it.”
“That’s easy for you to say, you’re not the one in labor. You don’t have to push a bowling ball through your hooha.” The doctor found that amusing. Gus found the doctor annoying.
“Besides,” he continued, “your little boom-boom last night probably had something to do with this. Go team hetero!” Gus was mortified that Marco brought that up, and in front of the doctor.
“It’s true, Pixie, semen helps—”
“Ew,” Gus interrupted Andy. “Just stop. I do not need to hear this. Hello, labor here, remember?”
“Relax, Miss Thorne, you’re not in active labor. When the contractions are strong and four to five minutes apart, regularly, come back. Until then, rest while you can, eat small meals and stay calm and hydrated.”
“Thank you, Doctor Johns,” everyone spoke in unison.