He puts both side to side. He moves them around curiously, while moving his head from side to side.
"Look at that cute… potato?" He jokes. He chuckles and hands them back to me.
"It's a boy." My teeth show through my smile. This never happens. My smile has taken over my face.
I look down at them again. I gaze longingly. I didn't want a baby when I first got pregnant but now I want him more than anything. I peel my eyes off them and look back at Margaret but I met with something entirely different. A woman sits on the couch. She has a very round belly and looks thoroughly exhausted. A long, pink sheer robe falls from her shoulders, her hair is messy and wavy as always. She looks at me and smiles. My mother. Her hand rubs her abdomen. She closes her eyes lets the euphoria wash over her. She looks so fulfilled.
"Over in Killarney, many years ago." My breath catches in my throat. I remember.
"My mother sang a song to me," She rocks gently back and forth to the tone.
"in tones so sweet and low," Her beautiful voice rings through me.
"Just a simple little ditty," She chuckles, "in her good old Irish way."
"And I'd give the world if she could sing," I close my eyes and listen.
"that song to me this day."
She stops but I don't want this to end. I walk to the couch and sit next to her. I hold my belly gently, softly touching my baby. I feel the song form itself in my throat.
"Oft in dreams I wander," my voice fills the room, "to that cot again."
"I feel her arms a-huggin me." I haven't sang since she left but now that she is here, I know I can again.
"As when she held me then." My smile can heard through my song.
"And I hear her voice a-hummin'," I look at her. She listen to me with tears in her eyes.
"to me as in the days of yore," I feel so at peace that I could keep singing until I grew sore.
"when she used to rock me fast asleep," Even then I would still sing some more.
"outside the cabin door." The verse ends and sadness fills my heart. I don't this to end.
A tear runs down her cheek, as if like clockwork, one runs down my cheek in exact tandem.
"Too-ra-loo-ra-loo-ral, Too-ra-loo-ra-li," Her voice burst forth again, "Too-ra-loo-ra-loo-ral, hush now, don't you cry."
The tears multiply. She rubs her stomach gently as her face grows wet as mine. I reach out to wipe the tear from her cheek but my hand passes through her. I feel the air surround it, I break down. She vanishes with my touch. My mother loves this child as much as I do. She loves me as much I love him. That was the most real experience I have ever experienced.
"That was beautiful, Ana," Tabitha says to me. She heard me. I blush, I got completely taken over by the experience that I totally forgot that life was a tangible ideal and that I was still part of it.
"Thanks," I say, my cheeks red as her robe.
Margaret watches me, her eyes fixed on my face. She sits completely still, entranced. I smile. I lean over and kiss her on the forehead.
"I love you, bug."
Tabitha is looking at me intently.
"You need to call him."
"I know."
I nervously hold the phone. I could dial his number so easily. Just a few twitches of my finger. I can't. The pictures of our son lie next to me on my bed. I feel like a little school girl. I lie in a lilac bedroom, with a phone in my hand, unable to call the boy. I feel the courage build in my stomach. I need to do this for my son. He needs to know at least one of his fathers know about him and loved him. I need to give him that. He deserves it more than either of them. I hold my breath and punch in the numbers with numb fingers. Each beep taunts me for the decision I am making right now. I hit 'call' and the dial begins. I wonder if Kane has tapped into this phone yet. I don't know what he is capable of but judging by his anger, he will do very fucked up things to get me back in his bed. The phone clicks.
"Hello?" I hear his voice and anxiety pours over me. Shit. I don't know what to say. He probably hates me. This could lead to his death. I need to show him his son. "Hello?"
"Hi." I finally speak. There is a moment of silence. I wish I could see his expression, then I could judge what kind of silence it is. Is it anger, sadness, or relief? My leg begins to shake.
"Um," he stammers. "Why did you call?"
"I had an ultrasound." I say straightforward. I need to get the information out so that this call ends sooner than later. But I love hearing his voice. There is a certain calmness to it. More silence. "I didn't know if maybe you wanted to see the pictures?"
I hear a sigh on the other end. I don't know what this means but I am scared to.
"When?" He asks. He sounds bitter, as if he is doing this only for me.
"I mean I don't have to." I backpedal.
"No," he calls out. "I want to see them. Really."
"Oh," I say moving forward again. "Can I just drop by now?"
"Yeah," he mutters. His tone is still filled with pain.
"Alright, I'll see you in li—" He cuts me off
"Why didn't you call for a month?" He asks.
"I had a lot of my mind," I push back at him. “Why didn't you call?"
"Are you dating him?"
With this question, hundreds of knots form in my heart. I don't want to date him. He is a psychopathic asshole. But I was with him for 7 years and I have seen his good side.
"No." I state.
"Really?" He is very torn about this.
"Yes. I promise." I say this with more confidence than my last reassurance. This change in tone makes a difference in his reception.
"Ok," he says significantly calmer. "I'll see you soon."
Before I can get a word in, he hangs up. I am left with silence. I am so good at fucking everything up.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE: THE LAPPING
I knock on the door cognizant of what might greet me. On the phone he didn't seem angry but then again, I don't know how much it actually hurt him. I do hope he just shrugs it off but then again, if he does, does that mean that he actually cares? I just don't want him to be bitter. I am starting to wonder if it would just be easier to this whole parenting thing alone. Day by day, my stomach grows bigger and bigger. With this, I become more and more aware of what lays ahead of me in just a matter of months. I stand for a second staring at the door.
The wood seems newly refurbished. The orange gloss shimmers in the hallway light. The tree from which it was created still makes itself known by the rings that remain present on it. It's almost as if the tree never truly lost itself by being broken apart for parts. It's lifespan is still poured out in front of me with the orange gloss as the finishing touch. It never really gave up. The door opens and I am throw out of my desired reality.
"Hey," Noah says. His eyes remain on the floor. Normally he would immediately look at me and bless me with his radiant blue eyes. Now, I am matched with nothing. He is upset. Fuck.
"Hi," I mutter. Silence breaks out between us. I don't know how to fill it. I don't know how to remain contrite yet loving all in one go. I hold the pictures of my baby boy in my hand. I lift them up to show him. He looks up and his face melts. He reaches out and grabs them. His face of shame is immediately replaced with a face of pride.
"Come in," he tells me, not looking up from the ultrasound. He moves out of the doorway to reveal his apartment. I haven't been in here since the night that I apparently tried to kill myself. Tabitha only told me short description of what she saw. She told me that I tried to hang myself from Kane's fan. It makes too much sense for it to not be true. I shake my head quickly to rid of the thought. I walk into his living room and sit on the couch. Everywhere I go, I sit. I want to preserve my feet while I can.