He wordlessly points over his shoulder at a diagram of weekly pregnancy milestones, and I’m overwhelmed by affection for my dear friend. He’s retained so much of what I’ve told him, going so far as to do his own research. Of course he would commit a diagram to memory.
“Thanks for coming with me,” I say, looping my arm through his as we exit the sliding glass doors. “It’s nice to have someone to do this with.”
“Anytime,” he replies, bumping his hip into mine. “That was pretty fucking cool. I didn’t know baby heartbeats were so fast.”
“Yeah,” I agree. “Pretty fucking cool indeed.”
When he drops me off at home, I immediately pin the ultrasound photos to the fridge with a magnet, snapping a quick picture to send to Ellie. I sit at the kitchen table, not wanting to let the images out of my sight. I pick up the book I’d been reading before Ellie called, a story about a pop star getting stranded in a small town and falling in love with a grumpy local hunk, and try to lose myself in the story, taking advantage of my giddy mood.
Every few pages though, I glance back up at the ultrasound, overwhelmed by a different kind of love story unfolding in front of my very eyes.
I love you so much, Little One. More than you could ever know.
Chapter 9
Jack
Ten Weeks
“Was it weird?” David asks, his voice muffled through a mouthful of burrito. “Being at the appointment?”
“Not really,” I say with a shrug. “I’m glad I was there to support her.”
If I’m being honest with myself, it actually was a little weird. I never imagined that the first time I saw an ultrasound would be with my best friend, standing in where her husband should have been. I figured it would be with my wife, whoever she ends up being, looking at our first child together.
Not that I’ve ever really given much thought to marriage. It’s not that I’m scared of commitment, or want to sow my wild oats or whatever. I’ve just never met a woman that lights a fire in my soul. And if she doesn’t do that, what’s the point?
It doesn’t help that the three most important women in my life have set an impossible standard–Ellie, the first person I ever felt really comfortable sharing my emotions with, Granny, the strongest and most selfless person to ever walk this earth, and Abby. Abby, with her fierce independence and indomitablespirit. Abby, who, alongside Aaron, became the family I never really had.
It was a lonely childhood until I met David and Griffin. Granny did her best–she was caring, and nurturing, and taught me everything I know about character. But there’s only so much a woman in her fifties can do with a seven year old boy, especially one that shut himself away to deal with the horrors of the first years of his life. Try as she might, there was no cracking that exterior, no coaxing me out of my shell. It took two wild twelve year olds (who left me no choice in the matter) to finally start bringing down some of those walls.
I don’t talk much about my childhood with anyone. It’s not exactly fun or comfortable to talk about my drug addict parents, or the way they’d leave me to fend for myself when I was too small to even pour myself a glass of milk. The way CPS got involved when things finally came to a head. The way I had to adjust to living with a grandmother I’d spent no time with because my dad had burned that bridge.
So yes, it might have been a little weird to be at that appointment. But I would do anything for any one of the five friends who I call my family. Especially one dealing with the kind of heartache very few people have experienced so young.
I’ve never lost a spouse, but I know heartache.
“I’m glad you were there, too,” Griffin agrees, wiping at his shirt where he just dropped an entire chip’s worth of salsa. “You’ve been there a lot recently. I feel like I’ve seen your car more than normal.”
“I’ve been bringing her food,” I say. “And she called me the other day because some awful girls were mean to her at the pharmacy.”
Both of their eyebrows raise, but I wave them off.
“It was a whole thing,” I say nonchalantly, avoiding the details. Every time I think about it I get fired up again, and I don’t wantto ruin lunch. “But she didn’t want to be alone, so I was there. The house feels different now. Quieter. I sit at home and think about her alone in that house, and before I know it I’m at her door,” I explain. In a lower voice, I add, “I just can’t stand the thought of her feeling alone, even for a second.”
“I’ll make sure we’re better about going over there,” Griffin promises, guilt flickering across his face. “I mean we’re just across the street, you shouldn’t have to drive over there constantly. It’s tough when Ellie travels for work, part of me feels weird going over there without her.”
“Yeah,” David agrees. “Me and Abby never hang out. I’d do anything for her, obviously, she’s been one of us since Ellie came into the picture. But I think it’d be weird for us both if I just showed up.”
“I get it,” I say reassuringly. “I’m not trying to make you feel guilty, or make you do anything. It makes sense for me to be there. I don’t think she’s upset with you, either. I don’t think she has the energy to think about it.”
And besides, I like being the one there for her. I think I’d be uncomfortable if it was anyone else–out of loyalty to Aaron, and to Abby. It should be me.
It also keeps the guilt at bay, even a little. It’s the least I can do for her.
I quickly shove those thoughts down. Maybe I’ll allow myself to look into that corner of my mind someday. But that day is not today.
“Okay, but what about you man? Who’s there for you?”
