Then Doc called to me from the room next door-the room he shared with Mrs. B.
“Come here.” He crooked his finger at me from where he was sitting on the bed with his laptop when I peeked my head inside the door.
I went, like a petulant child.
“I’m sorry.” He reached a hand out, stroking my wet hair, looking at the droplets of water beading on my skin. “It’s complicated. I wish it wasn’t.”
I just nodded, not saying anything.
“I thought you’d like to see.” Doc patted the bed beside him.
I hesitated for a moment, climbing up and sitting next to him, leaning back on the propped up pillows. I gasped when I saw what filled the screen.
My own pussy. My clit, to be exact, the hood pulled back slightly, the pink skin around it wrinkled, convoluted. The picture was so clear and sharp it was stunning. You could see every little grain of sand sticking to my skin.
“Look.” Doc pointed, touching my clit-on the screen-and I felt it throb between my legs. Oh my God, I could have sworn he was stroking my clit, just like he was doing to the image in front of us. “So fucking lickable.”
That made me whimper and squeeze my thighs together. I leaned my head against his arm as he flipped through each image. We both looked at them, silent. I went from wearing my bikini to nude, the photos zooming in closer and closer. There was a shot of my nipple, pink and pursed, that Doc paused at. He made a low noise in his throat before moving on.
“I just want you to know,” he said, when he minimized the last photo. “It’s taking every ounce of self-restraint I have not to take you. Right here, right now.”
“What’s that?” I pointed at the screen, looking for a distraction. There were thumbnails at the bottom, and they weren’t pictures he’d taken on the beach.
“Oh, those are some of the other pictures I’ve taken.” He clicked on another folder, flipping through some of the other photos. Some were of Mrs. B-I recognized her body, although I’m sure he didn’t think I could, since I wasn’t ever supposed to have seen her naked. There were other women too. I even recognized Dani and Mrs. B together, although I couldn’t see their faces.
“What about that one? She looks…” I reached over, clicking the laptop mouse, bringing the picture full screen before he could stop me.
I gasped out loud, covering my mouth with both hands.
“You weren’t supposed to see that.” He closed it quickly. Not just the photo, but the laptop too.
“Doc!” I exclaimed. “That was Mrs. Holmes!”
He winced, nodding.
I wasn’t supposed to know that the other woman I’d seen in the photograph was Mrs. B either.
“She was so young!” I whispered, staring at him.
“It was in college,” he said. “That’s… that’s where we met her.”
“You… and Maureen Holmes…” I was incredulous. “And Mrs. B?”
“Yes,” he admitted, setting his laptop aside on the nightstand, turning to me to take my hands.
“But not me,” I whispered, looking down at my hands in his, lifting my gaze, meeting his eyes. “Not me.”
“Gretchen!” he called.
But I couldn’t listen. I went into my room and shut the door, ignoring his knock.
I curled up, pulling the covers up to my nose, wondering what in the world was wrong with me. Because, clearly, it was something. The Baumgartners said they loved me, but it wasn’t really true. They wanted me-I felt it, I knew I wasn’t crazy-but they wouldn’t act on it. I didn’t understand. They’d been with-my God, who hadn’t they been with? Dani, Ronnie, even Maureen Holmes, who was the most fundamentally Christian, straight-laced woman I’d ever known. She obviously hadn’t been on the straight and narrow in college.
Doc said it wasn’t about me, but it was. It had to be.
When I heard the baby crying and Mrs. B called me, I got up and went downstairs, because it was my job. I took Holly and made her a bottle, curling up on the couch and feeding her while Mrs. B ordered a pizza. We were supposed to barbeque steaks and hamburgers on the grill, but it was still storming.
Janie and Henry decided on The Princess Bride, a family favorite, and we put that into the DVD player and watched it while we ate pizza in the living room. Mrs. B wanted the baby, so I handed her over, cleaning up paper plates, putting the leftover pizza in the fridge. I did all of that on autopilot, just going through the motions. Doc stopped me in the kitchen when I was cleaning up, trying to explain, but I couldn’t listen. It hurt too much.
It was still raining when bedtime rolled around. I got the kids into pajamas, their teeth brushed, tucking them in at the end of the hall. The baby slept in a Pack’n Play in my room and she was already out, sucking on her fist in her sleep. I heard Mrs. B call my name as I headed down the hall to my room.
“Everyone tucked in?” she asked.
“Safe and sound.” I stuck my head in, seeing them sitting up in bed, watching TV. “I’m going to turn in.”
“Goodnight, Gretchen.”
I went straight to bed. I just wanted to close my eyes and disappear. Maybe when I woke up, this week would be over. Outside, rain pelted against the side of the house. As bright and gorgeous as the day had been, tonight was just as turbulent and dark. All of my hopes, even my expectations, about what would happen with the Baumgartners, had blown away with the wind.
I heard Doc and Mrs. B talking, their voices low. If I had to listen to them have sex tonight, I was going to kill myself. I thought about going downstairs to sleep on the sofa, as I listened in on their conversation. I had forgotten to shut my door and theirs was slightly open, as usual.
“She feels like it’s her fault.” That was Doc.
“Oh Doc, no,” Mrs. B protested. “Did you tell her?”
“What do you want me to say? ‘I’m sorry, Gretchen, we love you but we can’t be with you because Carrie’s afraid we’ll lose the baby?’”
I blinked, frowning at the wall.
“I know you think I’m being stupid.” Mrs. B sighed.
“Not stupid.” Doc chuckled. “A little overly cautious, maybe.”
“Once she’s ours, Doc, I won’t worry so much,” she pleaded with him. “I just don’t want anything to go wrong. If I lose this baby…”
“We’re not going to lose Holly.” He sounded resolute.
“But… we could.”
“Carrie, anything could happen.” He sighed. “I could walk outside and get struck by lightning.”
Thunder crashed, followed by a flash of lightning, as if to prove his point. They were quiet for a while, the sound of the television filling the gap. They were watching Seinfeld.
“I feel awful,” Mrs. B said.
“So does she.”
“Oh Doc. What are we going to do?”
“I love you,” he told her. “I’ll do whatever you want.”
“You know what I want,” she cried.
“Yes,” he replied softly. “I want Gretchen too.”
I felt my heart swell at this revelation. Was it really true? They did love me? They did want me? It was just Mrs. B’s fear of some social worker coming along and taking the baby because they found out the Baumgartners were polyamorous that was keeping them from acting on it? Not that I blamed her, really. The social worker who had been assigned to the Baumgartners was a very straight-laced sort. She reminded me, in many ways, of a young Maureen Holmes. And the requirements and background checks and home visits had been extensive and rigorous.
Mrs. B was right-if we were all lovers and anyone did find out, they would take Holly back. I closed my eyes, feeling tears stinging my eyes. I couldn’t risk them losing the baby. I would never do that. I wasn’t going to jeopardize Holly’s future for my own selfish pleasure. So once again, the thing I wanted most, I couldn’t have.
“We can’t, Doc,” Mrs. B said, and I nodded in agreement, feeling tears slipping down onto my pillow.
“Yes we can.” Doc’s words didn’t change my mind-and I knew they wouldn’t change hers either. But what he said next made me doubt. “What we can’t do is live our whole lives afraid of something that may or may not happen. What kind of life is that?”