Ready or Not

by Cara Bastone

“Are you sexually active?” she asks the computer screen. “You know, the term ‘sexually active’ has always been so weird to me. It doesn’t make sense. If I had gone on one run in the last three months and that was it, no one would classify me as being physically active.”

More novel writing. This woman is obsessed with typing. Her grandfather invented the typewriter. In her family, it’s a rite of passage to learn how to type six thousand words a minute.

“Are you in a monogamous relationship?” “Can’t we just talk about my feelings again?” She slants me a look. I clear my throat. “No. I’m not. It was a random encounter.”

“Anal sex?” “Haven’t had the honor.”

Because that’s all an unplanned pregnancy really is, right? A speed bump? A tiny little momentary blip that barely affects your regularly scheduled programming? Someone please confirm that for me.

I know how badly Willa wants to be pregnant. How badly her husband, Isamu, wants to be a dad. How many times they’ve been disappointed in the last two years. I knew this wasn’t going to be easy for her.

“I know I didn’t react well,” she says. “But…it was a shock for me.” “Well…it’s been a shock for me too?” For the first time it occurs to me that last night she’d made the entire situation completely about her. Sure, it was a genuine reaction and people need time to have their genuine reactions— “Of course! Of course. I just think I need a little time to, ah, get used to the idea. You know, process it all.”

“You kind of sprang it on me,” she says. And there it is. The reason why I’m so irritated. Because she’s waiting for me to apologize to her. For sitting her down and telling her. What was I supposed to do? Mangle a Newsweek and send her one serial killer letter at a time? .

“What kind of bad news? Is she okay?” Isamu sighs. “She’ll be all right. It’s just…she got her period. We thought this time…I think she’s been hoping that maybe because you…that she would…that you could do this together.”

She was hoping that because I’d found out I was pregnant, this would be the month that she’d find out she was pregnant and then she could finally forgive me for being pregnant. It makes such dreadful sense.

“Did you run here?” “No cabs,” he pants. “Train too slow.” “Your cardio is abysmal.” Still bent over, he scowls up at me in a friendly way. “I run across two neighborhoods for you and this is what you say to me?” He folds over farther. “Hee hoo. Hee hee hoo hoo.” “Are you doing Lamaze breathing?” “Seems apropos?” He stands up, pressing his long fingers into a cramp at his side.

“Why didn’t you tell her your name?”

“Because if she tells him Eve is here to see him and he doesn’t remember my name, that would be the ultimate humiliation.” Shep’s eyes are immediately back on me, softening, warming, going desert gold. “Eve, who could forget you?” “Thanks, Shep,” I say dutifully, because he’s known me forever, and he has to say stuff like that. “Seriously.” His big foot nudges mine under the table. “There’s nobody else like you. You’re a dynamo.” He snaps his fingers. “You’re like a living, breathing Powerpuff Girl.”

How to explain that sometimes being nice hurts? How to explain that every time he’s sweet to me, I can’t help but think about how not-sweet Willa was?

“There’s something I didn’t say back there. I…don’t know why I didn’t…” “Oh. Well. Go ahead now, if you want.” I can’t help it. There’s a small part of me that waits for him to take my hands and tell me he’s happy.

“I—God—I have a girlfriend.”

“You. Have. A girlfriend.” “Oh. No, no…We weren’t together, um, back then…when you and I…I didn’t cheat. She’d left me and I thought for sure she really meant it that time. But she came back. A few weeks ago. And…I love her so much and I…”

“You should’ve seen her, Willa. She marched in there, so brave I—it was really something. And then he wasn’t behind the bar and even so she persevered. And she was patient and really kind to him, and even though he freaked out a little, he was kind too, right, Eve? They hugged at the end. And he told the truth about having a girlfriend. He could have just not said anything and that would have been far worse in the long run. And then, when the truth was hard to hear, she cried instead of pretending she was all right. In my book, that means it went well. She did great. She did better than great.”

Why do we say that we have to get our ducks in a row when we want to get something organized? I text back. What’s so important about lining up ducks? Da-ding. Yeah, yeah, you’re right! And what are we lining them up to do? Oh, God…it’s not for execution, is it? He sends a gif of a little girl crying facedown on the floor. I’m laughing more. That got dark so fast. Thanks for cheering me up.

Why did you need cheering up? Solo doctor’s appointment, cold exam table, no pants, stirrups etc. Straight into a meeting with my boss. That’s so weird! he texts, I had a no-pants/stirrups appointment today too. He sends a gif of a stripper dancing in assless chaps.

“Do you have anything good-smelling in here?” he asks in a panicked whisper. “Something to stick your nose into? Lotion or a muffin or something? Or maybe—” He cuts off because I quickly maneuver the messenger bag away from his chest and unzip his puffy coat. I have no thoughts in my head other than B.O. bad. I’ve got one hand on the pole to steady me, but the rest of me is in the circle of Shep, my nose pressed against his sternum and his jacket mostly closing around me, blocking out the B.O. And blocking in Shep’s scent.

“Well, that’s one option,” he says on a short laugh, looking down at me unexpectedly inside his coat. “It’s better than man-smell.” He frowns. “I have man-smell.” “You have good man-smell.” I take a hearty sniff. “Seriously, you could charge.” “Okay. Pay up.” I shoo his words away with one hand. “Check’s in the mail.”

“Hello? To what do I owe this afternoon phone call? Is this a butt dial? Do I have the honor of speaking with Shep’s fantastic ass right now?” “Do you really think it’s fantastic?” he asks. “I always thought it was just average.” “You’re twisted backward to look at it right now, aren’t you?” “No! Yes. Is it fantastic?” “It’s quite nice.” “Man, thanks. I should randomly call you in the middle of the workweek more often.”

“Well, what’s my job, then?” “You’re a…you know…” I raise my eyebrows. “You’re the lady who gets it done!”

“Micah’s allergic,” Shep cuts in. “Dang. That’s a pickle.” “Don’t say pickles to me right now. I’m starving. Hey, how did you know that Micah’s allergic to peanuts? And how did you know my co-worker’s name, for that matter?” He squishes up one side of his face and gives me a look. “I listen when you talk, Eve.”

A savory smell that I’d recognize anywhere wafts out. It’s a tempeh Reuben from my favorite vegetarian sandwich joint.

I flip open the box and laugh when I see it. He’s ordered me an extra pickle.

And inside…is a shoebox. I flip it open and there are two of the most perfect slippers I’ve ever seen in my life. “The woman at the store said that pregnant women sometimes need extra arch support, even in slippers…so they’re like gel liners or something? And if they’re not the right size I bought three pairs so we could size up or down. I’ll obviously return the ones that don’t fit. And don’t worry, that’s not real fur. I know you’re a vegetarian. But if your place is anything like mine the floors are like ice in the morning.” He just keeps talking, probably because I haven’t said anything.

“You slept in my bed.” “Yup.” “In high school.” “Yes.” “Where the hell was I?” The look on his face makes me burst out laughing. “I forget. It was during the summer, so probably computer camp?” “Fucking computer camp,”

“Oh!” he says, lifting his head, his eyes big. “Was that one?” I chuckle and shake my head. “Just a gurgle, I think. My stomach is in there too, you know.” “Ah. Right.”

“You brought flowers for Corinne too?” I ask. He shrugs. “It’s Christmas. She was my friend, you know.” “Wait. Really? You and Corinne?” He nods. “She was only two grades above me. We knew each other. I’ve been trying to visit her every so often.” I’m gaping at him. “I…have never really thought about that before. That you are pretty much the same age as Willa and Shep’s parent. How come I never knew you were friends?” Dustin gives me an uncharacteristically sheepish look. “I had a pretty big crush on her in high school. But I enlisted without asking her out. And then the next thing I heard she’d had Shep. And then Willa too.”

“You can do this, you know. The single mom thing. Corinne did. And you had all those years of watching her do it.”

I’d like to spread him on toast and eat him in the bath, please. Thank you.

The room is filled with tubes and vials and equipment that looks like R2-D2’s elderly uncle.

“Face! Face! There’s the face!” I shout. “Look at the eyes!” Ethan whisper-shouts. “The nose.” The baby’s mouth opens and it’s a perfect oval. There’s something extremely familiar about that posture. “That’s a yawn,” Nurse Louise says. “A yawn.” Ethan has two hands covering everything but his eyes. “Please tell me you got a picture of that,” he tells the tech.

Every ten seconds of every day my mind wanders to his too-long hair, his brown-gold eyes, the scent of the inside of his coat. Every twelve seconds of every day I mentally Taser myself.

“You…went shopping for yourself, thought of me, scrapped the plan, and just bought me a bunch of produce?” He closes the fridge and dusts off his hands. “Is that a problem?” A problem? Yeah. It’s a huge one.

My erotica stash has never seen so much action. My ebook reader slams a Gatorade when it sees me coming.

A wash of stubble on his face? Brown eyes and messy hair and his Shep face that I just wanna sit on? Yeah. It’s a problem.

I would have what? Taken the train up to Heather’s apartment and tucked him into bed? Made him hot cocoa? Listened to him talk for hours on the phone and made sure he had at least one square meal a day? Yes, yes, yes, yes and yes. Yes to all. Of course I would have done those things for Shep. Just like I did those things for Willa.

“This must be killing Shep, then.” His eyes are on my belly. “What?” He smirks. “He was so protective. I personally saw him get his ass beat over you at least twice in high school.” “That can’t be—” “Man, this is so like him. Still following you around after all these years. Even when you’re…”

A tiny bit shaggy on top, but really, very short, faded on the sides, and look, there are the cords in his neck and who knew that foreheads were, like, so hot? Sleepy Shep is nowhere to be found. I immediately face forwards because I physically cannot look at him and keep my tongue in my mouth at the same time.

“First trimester.” I point at the second one. “Second trimester.” His face lights up, and he studies them with renewed interest. I haven’t told anyone else that I’ve bought myself good-job jewelry. Two little milestones. But then again, no one else notices enough about me to ask.

He’s not even pretending to watch the movie. My eyes close and my whole world spirals down into focus. The only thing I care about is whatever the hell he’s drawing on my palm.

Then, finally, as the credits roll, one last shape. An arrow. And it’s pointing up my arm, straight towards me and—I fear—straight towards my heart.

There’s a buzzing energy in my toes. They want me to tip up, give me three extra inches. They want my arms around his neck, my fingers in the buzzed hair at the back of his neck. They want his stubble against my cheek. They want irrevocable and they want it now.

“You never wear your hair like that,” he says in a low voice, his eyes on my complicated braid, and then on my face. “I wanted to look pretty,” I whisper. For you, I don’t whisper.

And then he does the thing. The one thing that’s hotter than a fresh haircut. He rests his elbow on the doorframe over his head and lets his wrist hang down around forehead level. I can see armpit hair and the scaffolding of his rib cage. Hello, sir, you look like you’ve come to absolutely destroy me.

I am no longer confident this thing with him is ignorable. I…? Think…? I…? Might…? Love…? Him…?

If I had to make a list right now of people who will almost definitely be there for me after the baby is born, it’s him. He’s the list. And I refuse to throw away the list just because I’d like to kiss his kiss. On top of him, naked.