Returning Ben’s hug, I believe my words, even if for a moment they sound like empty excuses to my own ears.
I feel Ben’s breath on my mouth as he mutters that I make him so happy and that I am and will always be his Cathy just before he kisses me.
We are going to be okay. Yes.
The life growing inside of me will be able to seal all the empty holes I’ve carried with me for so long that not even Ben’s deep love has been able to fill since the first time it happened.
God, I want this baby so bad.
When the kiss ends, a flushed looking Ben pulls slightly away to look me in the eye, our bodies still glued to each other. The smile I observe on his face is so big that I can see his dimples peeking at me, taunting me to kiss them. Planting a quick kiss on my nose, Ben gives me with that naughty look of his, the one that means he wants to get lucky.
“Hey, want to give the love couch a celebratory ride?”
I laugh out loud as I swat his shoulder. “Seriously, Ben?”
A smiling Ben lowers his nose to touch mine as he teases me, “Can’t blame a man for trying. By the way, did I tell you how fucking happy you make me? I love you, Cathy.”
“Cathy…Cathy…Earth calling Cathy. Oh, hi. Hello. Yes, I am still here.”
I laugh as I turn to look at Amy who is sitting across the table from me. Her long red hair is blown out to perfection in soft curls that seem like natural waves flowing down her back and over her shoulders. Dressed in a black suit and crisp white shirt, she is so gorgeous.
It’s not fair.
“Yes? By the way, I hate you. Only you could manage to look so freaking gorgeous in a plain black suit,” I say, smirking.
She waves a piece of bread in front of my face before replying, “Please. Have you looked at yourself in the mirror lately, blondie? Even I, a 100% penis lover, would totally do you. Pregnancy suits you, you know? Anyway, what are you thinking about? You seem lost in thought and haven’t touched your plate. I mean, shouldn’t you be eating for two and enjoying the perks of being preggers, instead of sitting there watching me stuff my face while daydreaming about baby socks or whatever it is you pregnant women like to think about?”
“What makes you think I’m daydreaming about babies and baby gear?” I smile at Amy. Her light teasing about my pregnancy makes me feel better, almost as if it wasn’t such a big deal when in reality it truly is.
I know it’s insane to put so much on this pregnancy, but I feel like my marriage and my own sanity are hanging by a very thin thread, and only this baby can save us, save me. Amy’s jokes help to alleviate the ever-present fear that lays dormant like a sleeping volcano at the back of my mind and in my heart. A constant fear that slowly and painfully gnaws my insides raw, yet, all I seem to be able to do is wish and pray.
Getting my hopes up when I know I shouldn’t.
“Due to your medical history of pregnancy losses, Cathy, I must be completely honest with you. You are considered a high-risk pregnancy. According to the date when you had your last period, you are now five weeks pregnant. We need to be very cautious this early in your pregnancy. Until your first trimester is over we are on shaky ground, so I want to see you every two weeks to monitor the growth of the fetus; you must avoid risky substances…” Dr. Pajaree’s words are still so fresh in my mind; I can hear her sweet voice telling me not to start thinking about baby names. So, yes, I need funny now. I need a lot of jokes.
“Look, I have been stuffing my face with empty but delicious complex carbohydrates that according to my dentist will not only make my ass bigger but give me cavities, so the least you could do is tell me what’s going on in that pretty head of yours? Wait. Is my teasing bothering you? Because I’ll stop. You know I just do it to try and make you feel better.” The concerned and chastised expression on her face makes my smile grow wider.
“Woman, I love your face. No, don’t worry about it. I was just thinking that Ben’s birthday is coming up and what that means.”
“What do you mean?”
“I thought you knew. Ben and I got serious sometime around his birthday. It depends who’s telling the story, really.”
“No, you hadn’t told me that. How many years now? I know you’ve been married for six years, right?”
“Right. Six years married, but eleven together.”
“That’s a long time to be with one person. In the past eleven years, I’ve been married twice and who knows how many men I’ve slept with in between and after. But if I were married to your hunk of a husband, I would probably still be married. I mean, I remember how amazing he looked in swim trunks when we went to Turks and Caicos to celebrate your birthday. Cathy, no joke. He was built better than my gym instructor and my instructor was rocking a pretty lickable six-pack, just saying.”
I can’t help laughing. If I didn’t know Amy so well, I would totally think she had the hots for Ben. I couldn’t blame her if she did, though. Beautiful women, young or old, are always hitting on him, even when he’s with me.
“Well, don’t waste your time. He only has eyes for me, or so he tells me every time some young intern hits on him.” I lean back in my chair and watch as Amy grins at me, acknowledging my comment.
“You’re a very lucky woman. That man never, ever looks at another woman when you’re in the same room. It’s quite depressing actually. I mean, the way he looks at you even after all the years you’ve been together is as if you are the only person with a pair of breasts in the room. Hot and sweet.”
“Mine are very small sadly,” I say, laughing.
“I want what you have, though. Every woman wants that, a man who looks at her as if she were the only woman in the room. You’re so lucky to still have that.”
As Amy tells me how fortunate I am, all I can do is smile because I am lucky. A week ago, I thought Ben and I were going through a very rough patch in our marriage, and then I took the pregnancy test that changed everything. The results brought hope into my life again, hope that we will be okay after all, hope that we can grow closer again, bridging the space between us, and hope that we will finally get a chance to have that family.
Smiling, I realize that our future doesn’t look bleak. Yes, I may be scared shitless of the what ifs, but as I glance around the restaurant full of people, my hands go to my stomach. My body is not empty anymore. There is magic growing inside of me. There is life.
However, I’m afraid that such hope won’t last forever. Cruel reality has a way of always catching up to you, no matter how fast or how far you run; reality has a way to destroy one’s hopes and dreams. Reality doesn’t caress your cheek, letting you know what’s to come. No, reality slaps you across the face harshly, reminding you that a dream is just that…a dream.
The naïve part of me wants to believe that those feelings are gone, gone since I found out we are expecting again, and that the love we feel for each other is enough. But the logical voice inside my head, the cynical one, tells me to stop fooling myself. It tells me that just because I’m pregnant, those issues, our issues, my issues, aren’t going anywhere. They’re still there, will always be there until I address them. They just happen to be concealed by a blanket made of happy feelings at the moment. A blanket that allows me to ignore the nagging sentiment that not everything is as it should be.
After lunch, I drop Amy off at the office and drive to SoHo to pick up Charles Parker. He’s one of the most exclusive and expensive interior designers in the world. His clientele includes many people with famous last names, Hollywood A-listers, and members of the European Jet-Set. Charles has also been featured in every magazine geared for high-end homeowners and the very, very wealthy.