“Great! Hi guys, did you have fun today?” As I squat down to receive double-hugs, I feel the skin on my thighs pull against scabs that are working to form over my skin.
“So, any word yet from the university?” There are lots of upper-level students whose kids go to preschool here; this question isn’t uncommon.
“There is,” I force a proud smile, “but I need to wait for it to be official.”
“Well,” she leans in and whispers, “congratulations in advance.”
A few minutes later, as I’m buckling the boys into their car seats, visions of more car seats send my heart racing. Eric and I have never talked about having more kids. Hell, we didn’t even talk about having the kids we have now, and three seconds after telling me it was okay for me to start taking Ph.D. classes again he wants to knock me up?
You’ve got to be kidding me.
I reach for my cell phone and call Eric’s mom.
“Hey Grace, it’s Natalie,” I say when she answers. “Listen, I just picked the boys up from preschool, but something’s come up with a friend of mine. Can I drop them off at your house for, like, two hours or so?”
The ever bubbly Grace doesn’t hesitate in her reply. “Oh, of course, dear! In fact, why don’t you have them stay here through dinner, and come pick them up after? Eric told me the good news!”
“Isn’t it great? Thanks, Grace, I’ll be over there in a few.”
After dropping them off at their grandmother’s house, I stop at the gas station to buy a pack of cigarettes before calling Tosha and asking her to meet me at her apartment.
Chapter 11
“Shit, I forgot to buy a lighter—can I borrow yours?” I reach for Tosha’s lighter on the front steps of her apartment building.
“You smoke now?” She half-chuckles as she takes the lighter back and ignites her own cigarette.
I lift my eyebrows as I take a long drag. “Apparently only on days where my husband tells me he’s got a permanent job at UMass and wants to have more kids.” I look at Tosha, whose cigarette is suspended a millimeter in front of her lips.
“Can we . . . um . . . break that down a bit?” she asks when she finally composes herself.
I recap the “good news” to Tosha, who keeps a striking poker face.
“So,” she starts when I’m in tears again, “it’s a good or bad thing that he has a job, now?”
“Good,” I sigh. “It’s excellent. What’s not excellent is he wants to start talking about more kids. Not, hey Nat, thanks for putting your entire life on hold to raise our boys while I finished my dream, let’s work on yours now. No, he said I could still take classes, but we both fucking know there’s no way I can travel the way I would have been able to six years ago.”
“Do you think he actually wants to start having more kids right now? Maybe he just got wrapped up in the excitement of being done with school . . .” Tosha hesitates to finish as she studies my face.
“You’re probably right. Seriously, we’ve never discussed having more kids. We never even discussed having children when we first got together. Christ, we never discussed a future at all.”
“I remember,” she nods, “you were both so focused on school that it’s amazing you even made it as a couple at all.”
An uncomfortable silence overtakes the steps on the busy sidewalk.
“I’m going to be really lonely, Tosh, with him continuing this many lab hours. It’s like being a single mom half the time.” I wipe under my eyes.
“Nat, you’ve seemed lonely for a while—even when he’s around . . .”
I smash out my cigarette and look at her as I exhale. “What am I supposed to do now?”
Like any true best friend, she shrugs and pulls me into a hug.
*
I hadn’t cut since the night of Liz’s party. It turns out it was a huge pain to hide the marks—more than I’d thought. I didn’t think, really. I couldn’t even wear a t-shirt to bed out of fear that Tosha would see and would question me. But, I didn’t go to any more parties that semester. If one cranky bitch could set me off like that, it was best that I stay in, despite Tosha’s insistence that I don’t “let her win”—whatever that meant.
Luckily, Liz and Tosha hit it off and were spending a lot of time together at Liz’s place. I had a lot more alone time all of a sudden. I used the time to write letters to Ryker, and wait for his phone calls. They’d been getting further apart, and my anxiety was slowly building.
Despite the complete insanity of it all, I was feeling insecure. What if he’s choosing not to call me? Or, worse, What if he’s calling someone else? I tried to drown out the sounds of those voices by cranking Staind or Incubus, but that turned out to be a bad idea.
It didn’t take too long before my schoolwork started to slip. At first, it was a reading assignment here, or an outline there. Before long, I’d failed an essay by not turning it in at all. That landed me in my advisor’s office quickly.
“Natalie, is everything okay?” Angela Davis was my advisor. She was notoriously stern, but had been pleasant enough with me.