Page 83 of It's Always Us

“It’s measuring a tad on the small side, but that’s not unusual for twins. Let’s see if we can hear the heartbeat.”

It only takes a second for the screen to fill with color and the room with the whoosh, whoosh, whoosh. Something deep in my chest blooms so full it’s possible it might explode; everything inside me splattering this chilly, dark space.

I lean down, kissing Lex’s forehead as something warm drips from my cheek. She smiles, and her hand slides around my neck to hold me there.

“We’re going to do the same with Baby B,” April says.

I can only watch as baby number two fills the screen.Baby. Number. Two.I see its head, hands, and feet. We listen to the strong heartbeat, and for the second time, it’s like I’ve learned how to breathe again.

Two babies. Twins. Lex and I are having twins. Dos. Double. Bambinos.

April puts her wand away and wipes Lex’s belly off. “Congratulations. Your babies are looking healthy and strong.” She hands Lex a long strip of black-and-white pictures as she pulls her shirt down and hops off the table.

We follow April down the hall to another room, where we’re bombarded with pamphlets and forms about genetic testing, cord banking, breastfeeding, and vaccinations.

Her face falls, and her shoulders slump as she collects one piece of literature after another. It’s a posture I remember, and I slide my arm around her, taking the forms and letting the doctor know we’ll review it all and get back to them.

Lex’s stoic face has me only partially listening as the doctor talks about birth plans and options. All I want to do is take our reusable bag, crammed full of every imaginable tidbit about childbirth, and get Lex out of here so I can understand what’s going through her head.

After making her next appointment, we hit the cold winter air, and I grab her hand. “I’ll drive.”

She hands over her keys, not arguing. At the passenger door, I stop her from climbing in, turning her to face me. I don’t quite know her like I used to, but I recognize this part of Lex. When she feels like the world is closing in or the fear gets too big, she shrinks, closing herself within. I need to be inside the iron-barred gates she’s dropping into place.

I pull her close, my arms wrapping around her back. She tucks her head into my chest, and I hold her tight. “I’m not going anywhere. Ever.” I want her to hear me and believe it. “It’s you and me. It’s always been you and me.” Her fingers dig into the back of my coat like she’s holding on for dear life. “It’s going to be you and me and our babies.”

Babies. Two babies.I didn’t have any kind of example of what it means to be a good parent, but these babies will get all of me—the very best I can give them.

I know she needs a second, so I release her, and she climbs in the truck. I drive us back to Cal’s house with nothing but dread, knowing I have to leave her when we just got the best overwhelming news of our life. We had a lot to figure out before, and now it’s doubled.

______

It’s been sixty-four minutes of nods, ‘yeses,’ and ‘noes,’ and she’s given me nothing. I place the last of my stuff in my suitcase and sit beside her on the end of the bed, my patience sputtering on fumes.

Grabbing her hand, I entwine her fingers with mine, wanting her to feel the connection. “I need you to talk to me. I can’t leave like this.”

She rests her head on my shoulder but doesn’t say anything. I’ve kept my nerves mostly under control, but they start to count off one by one, taking a nosedive off a ledge. The distance between us feels far and wide, and I can’t handle it. Flashbacks of eight years ago singe the edges of my mind, and I have to fan them out before they burn me alive all over again.

I wait with as much calm coolness as a mildly dramatic person can have for her to give me something.

“I don’t know where to start,” she whispers.

“Start anywhere. I don’t care. I just need something.” I kiss the back of her hand. “A sign, smoke signal, pigeon carrier with a clue. Anything that will help me understand what’s going on in here.” I kiss her forehead.

Her chest rises slowly, then falls with a exhale. “When the technician didn’t say anything at first, I . . . ” She doesn’t have to finish that sentence because I know. “What if something happens to them? Like I do something I shouldn’t and . . . ” She sits up straight, pulling away and shifting to face me. “Them, Mark. Them. Two. No wonder I’m huge already, and I have a long way to go.”

“You’re not huge. You’re perfect and sexy as hell. If you want, I’ll show you just how much I think so.”

Her head falls to the side, pure sadness taking over, and it’s enough to split me in two. “How am I going to have two babies in here?” She gestures around the room. “I mean, I thought that with one, but now, two of . . . everything.”

She swallows, gulping down a mountain of emotions.

My stomach drops to the floor and bounces up into my throat at her thinking about the babies being here. Some miraculous force holds my mouth shut, knowing this isn’t the time to point out that I think that idea is total and complete shit.

“I don’t even know what I’m supposed to be doing. It’ll take me an entire month to try to piece together all the papers and information they gave us. Who’s going to teach them to read and help them with their homework? What if they have the same issues I do?”

Her voice quivers, but I force myself to sit tight, giving her space to get it all out. “And my job. I can’t work. Grandpa will pay me to sit and deal with customers but . . . Eventually, the guys will have to roll mearound in his awful, old chair that probably won’t even hold me. I’m having dinner with my mom, and she’ll add to the list of all the ways in which I will never be able to care for these babies.”

A tear makes a slow track down her cheek, and I catch it with my thumb and push it away. “All these damn hormones,” she groans. “And you’re leaving. We aren’t any closer to knowing how any of this is actually going to work!”

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