Page 21 of Jeremy
Hergaze meets mine. “This is extraordinary. Your others are fantastic as well, andI’d be happy to feature them, but this, this is the spotlight. Do you have atitle?”
“Mistake.”The word tumbles out before I can second guess myself.
“Perfect.”
Myfeet barely touch the ground when I leave the Lindon Gallery an hour later,three paintings lighter, my mind filled with plans for my next projects. I’vebeen on my own for a few months now, living in my own place, making my owndecisions, but this is the first time I’ve started to feel a tiny bit like theold me. I’ll never be the girl I was before True Life, but I can be a betterversion, for myself and my baby.
I’mstill learning my way around town, so I use my navigator to point me toward astore with maternity clothes. It turns out to be a place called Mom and BabyWear. I had no plans to buy anything for the baby yet, but who can resist theadorable little outfits and stuffed animals?
Myimpulse is to buy the whole damn place, when I don’t even have the nurserystarted yet, but I restrain myself and settle for starting a registry. I don’thave any friends other than Agnes, and she’s in Florida, so I’m only doing itto keep track of what I want when the appropriate time comes.
Theygive me a little scanner gun, and it makes it so real, choosing a crib andfurniture, décor, and supplies. I don’t know the sex, but it doesn’t matter.I’m not a fan of pastels, and the bright blue and white color scheme will workequally well for either gender. Once I have everything on the registry, Ichoose a few pairs of maternity pants, each a little larger than the last. Myshirts still fit fine, and I can probably find some large sweaters that I likebetter online, so I forgo those for the moment.
Theonly item other than the clothes that I actually leave with is a little moonshaped lamp. It was just too cute to pass up.
Rightnext to the Mom and Baby store is a donut shop, and if that isn’t a perfect placefor such a business, I don’t know what is. The smell wafts over to me and thedecision is made. The baby wants donuts.
So,maybe the baby doesn’t need two dozen donuts, but they all looked so good Icouldn’t pass them up. When another lady with a protruding belly walks in,accompanied by a man, she looks at the bag in my hand, and we both chuckle.Yeah, great place for a donut shop.
Whilethe girl behind the counter boxes up my donuts, I watch the couple. The mandotes on her, having her sit and making sure she’s comfortable. It sends a waveof sadness over me. That’s the way it’s supposed to be. Two people united intheir joy over a new life.
Maybeit’s the hormones, but self-pity sinks in. I’m missing out on that experience.There’s no one who loves me to help me tie my shoes when I get too big to bendover, no one to send out for tacos and ice cream in the middle of the nightwhen I’m overcome with a craving, no one to hold my hand and tell me everythingwill be okay.
Allthose special moments to come; the first time I feel a kick, finding out thegender, and seeing my baby for the first time will all be spent alone.
Steppingout into the sunshine, I try to shake off the gloomy feeling. After all, todayhas been a good day, and I’m far more fortunate than most. Like my sister, whois still under their control with no desire to be anywhere else.
WhenI pull into my drive, Jeremy is sitting on his porch, and I make a suddendecision to take him some of the donuts, since I really did go way over thetop. After all, he did fix my stairs, even though he was weird about the way hewent about it. I don’t have a problem with strange people. They’re often themost interesting. As long as he doesn’t pull that drunk asshole act again, Ican deal with him.
Ipop the hatch on my car and pull out the bags of maternity clothes. When I turnaround, he’s standing beside me again. I’m going to get the man a damned bell.“Would you stop sneaking up on me before you give me a stroke!”
“Youcan’t give someone a stroke.” His gaze falls on the Mom and Baby bag, and hetakes it from me. “I’ve got it.”
“Thanks,but I can manage.”
Hislips press together, but he doesn’t reply, just carries the bag to my door andwaits on me. “You shouldn’t be lifting anything while you’re pregnant.” Damn,am I big enough he can tell? I have to laugh at myself. I’m carrying a bag froma maternity and infant shop. Not hard to figure out.
Idig my keys out of my pocket. “Yes, I’m aware. That’s why I wasn’t out herebench lifting. It’s a five-pound bag.”
Hehands me the bag, and I set it just inside the door. Woody streaks out onto theporch, yapping and licking me as if I’ve been gone a month instead of a fewhours. I fasten him onto the lead that’s tied to a tree in the front yard, sohe can relieve himself and stay out from under our feet.
Jeremystarts back toward his place without asee you laterorkiss my assor anything. Talk about mood swings. My shower can’t go from hot to cold thatquickly.
“Ihave donuts!” I call, once again showing off my stellar social skills.
Heturns, and I swear for just a split second, his lip tilts up. Almost a smile. Ilean in my car and pull out the top box of donuts. “My eyes were a littlebigger than my stomach, and I got too many.”
Hetakes the box and opens it, stuffing a glazed ring in his mouth like a starvingchild, and a giggle spills out of me.
“Thanks,”he says, but his gaze is pointed behind me. “Your gutter is clogged. The wateris running down the wall. It could cause water damage or flood your basement.I’ll clean them out tomorrow.”
“Youdon’t have to. I can hire someone.”
Heshrugs. “Got nothing better to do.”
Okaythen.
“Thankyou. Maybe I can make you dinner in exchange,” I offer, trying to extend adelicate branch of friendship.
