Page 139 of Not Another Yesterday
We fall into a moment of silence. The sound of the water fills the room, steady and loud, drowning out all the things we don’t say.
I watch her. She watches her toes draw patterns on the white, fluffy shower rug.
“Hey,” I say, breaking into her thoughts. “Whatever happens tonight… I’m not leaving. I’m not bailing. No matter how pissed they get or how loud it gets or what they say. I’m here. You know that, right?”
She looks up at me, eyes glassy, but she doesn’t speak. She doesn’t trust my words. Doesn’t trust that Iwillstick around. I haven’t earned it back. Yet.
But I have nothing but time.
***
I’m sitting in the driver’s seat of Cat’s ancient Subaru Forester. Yes, ancient. Never mind that it’s thirty-five years newer than my Mustang. The lack of sex appeal alone adds at least fifty years to its soul. That thing looks like it went through the wringer before her parents even bought it. The paint’s salt-faded, the dashboard’s cracked, and the leather on the seats is peeling. It still has a cassette deck. Acassette deck. I don’t think I’ve ever even seen a cassette in real life. Only in movies. Maybe one day, when we’re not about to drop a small fortune on baby essentials, I can spoil her like she deserves.
The passenger-side vent won’t stay up. It keeps drooping like it’s too tired and depressed to do its job. Guess we have that in common. The one redeeming quality? The interior smells like Cat’s lavender shampoo and her caramel coffee.
I gave Cat the keys to my Mustang. It was my dad who insisted I pick up my grandparents in something other than my car. “Bud, do you really expect Morai to climb through the front into your backseat?” he chuckled. I had to admit he had a point. My grandparents in a two-door, classic muscle car, when they’re used to crew cab extended-bed trucks? Yeah, that would have been a disaster waiting to happen.
So here we are, my ass in this beige time capsule from circa 2004, while Cat gets to cruise in my Boss. I try not to think about it too hard. As good as she’s gotten, she still tends to heavy-foot the clutch and make my transmission cry. I just smile at her, pretend it doesn’t hurt, then whisper apologies to my car like she’s a wounded war hero. She’s very sensitive. My car, that is. Not Cat. Cat’s a badass.
I’m at the airport. Well, the parking garage of the airport, to be exact. My grandparents are buckled in beside and behind me, their luggage safely deposited in the trunk. And I’m just sitting here. Not moving. Not turning the key.
My damn heart is about to burst through my chest wall.
My grandparents exchange questioning glances. Here goes.
“What’s wrong, baby boy?” my grandma asks.
Ugh, my throat is already tight and I haven’t said a single word. “I fucked up,” I say, tipping my head back against the headrest while my eyes fall shut.
“What happened?” she asks cautiously, not even objecting to my crude word choice.
I sigh. “Cat’s pregnant.” The words are still as difficult to form as they were when I told Shane on Monday and my big brother the next morning.
“Oh, baby boy,” she says, while my grandpa exhales deeply. “Oh,” she just repeats.
“What am I going to do?” I ask desperately. I’ve asked this exact question a hundred times now.
My grandma’s hand is on my shoulder. “You’re going to do exactly what Cat needs you to do. You’re going to walk by her side through this and you’ll figure this out. You’re a Soult. You’ll be fine, Ran.”
“I didn’t want this for her,” I say. “I didn’t want this for us.”
“Aww, I know. I know,” my grandma says, her voice warm, soft.
“Dad’s going to kill me,” I say.
My grandpa laughs ruefully. “Let him try. I’ll gladly remind him that he had to break similar news to us when he was even younger than you.”
“How did you take it when he told you?” I ask, realizing I’ve never actually heard that story.
“Well, it was certainly a shock in the beginning, but there was no question that we’d support him and… and Rica,” he says, hesitating on my mother’s name.
“How’s Cat doing?” my grandma asks.
“She’s scared,” I say. “We saw her doctor on Monday and… we saw the baby on the ultrasound. It’s so weird…” I trail off, still completely unable to wrap my head around the fact that Cat’s pregnant.
“How far along is she?” my grandpa asks.
“Just over eight weeks.”
