As if in answer, pie piles up. A brand new pie is waiting for me each night after work, as if he knows he hit his stride and he is going to exploit that knowledge. Fudge pie, pumpkin, apple, pecan, chocolate, strawberry, rhubarb, lemon, peach… I go through a week of pies, then two. I dream about our pretty baby, and end up sobbing over Mama every time I take a shower.
Why can’t things be right? Like books or movies. Why can’t things just ever, once, be right?
That afternoon, I find the pinnacle of pies: a peanut butter Reese’s one.
I’m glad I’ve got a reason for this growing belly. Truthfully, I think it’s mostly pie.
*
Gabe
I lie downstairs in the lacy room and listen to her. Every morning after she leaves for work, I call Victor’s mom and tell her what pie I need made. That afternoon, I bring her $50 and pick it up.
“You so crazy, Gabe,” she says in stilted English.
I shrug. Why deny it?
I’ve fucked up with Marley, paved the space between us with regret. When I first got the idea to leave her little things, I didn’t put my name on the Christmas tree because I thought she might throw it away. Then I remembered what she said about the pies, and I figured if I couldn’t do anything else, I could provide her with her favorite vice.
It’s all I know to do. In the first few days after the hospital, I tried to give her space to digest what had happened with her mom, and time to get over her anger at me. I figured she’d call, or that she’d hug me at the funeral. Instead, when I got to the cemetery and found her crying in front of a long line of mourners, I couldn’t bring myself to approach her. What if she passed out again? No—hugging Marley would be more for me.
And now I’ve dug a hole for myself. I can feel it: the frustration coming from her up above my head. Just like with each passing day, I swear I think I feel her softening.
She’s got to know the pies are coming from me. And still—I haven’t heard from her. Not even a note in my door, or a text.
I’ve reached blackberry pie when I realize I can’t keep waiting.
When I take it to the top of Marley’s stairs at 5:00, I set it on her mat and sit beside it, feeling jittery and cloddish as I wait. It’s cold out here, and slightly wet from rain we got last night.
When I hear Marley’s car, I stop breathing. I sit up a little straighter, then decide to sit with my knees resting on the stair below. The first thing I notice as she comes around the corner is her dreamy smile. Then her gaze hits me, and her mouth rounds into a shocked “o.”
I see an army of emotions march across her face; I notice what looks like relief, but then it’s hidden beneath cautious politeness.
“Gabe,” she says, as she nears the top of the stairs.
I can’t help noticing how tired she looks.
I look up at her as Marley comes to stand over me. I meant to stand and hug her, but I’ve found I can’t move.
“Hey there,” I say in a ragged-sounding voice.
“Hello yourself.”
I stand up. Hand Marley the pie.
“I thought these might be you,” she murmurs. She sounds nervous.
“I hope you enjoyed them.”
“I did, actually.” Her voice is cool. I notice her eyes won’t touch mine. She looks at the pie instead. “What kind is this one?”
“Blackberry.”
“That’s a good, reliable fall pie.” She tucks her camel-colored jacket around her as she says the world “reliable,” and my chest aches.
“Mar…” I reach for her, and she moves slightly. “I’m so fucking sorry.”
“For what, Gabe?” She sounds tired.
“You want to go inside? You look like you might want to sit down.”
“Do I? I think I’m just fine right here.”
I nod, trying to read her face, but Marley is on lockdown. “I’m sorry I fucked up.”
“What does that mean?” Her jaw is tight as she looks at her feet.
“I fucked up that night. I can’t fucking stand to think you had to do it by yourself.”
“Oh, I didn’t. You caught me and carried me into the ambulance. In front of most of Fate, it seems.” Her eyes flash as they briefly meet mine.
“Fuck. Well, that’s not even what I meant. I mean when you found out.”
She shrugs. “What sticks out most to me is how the whole damn town of Fate now thinks I’m dating you. And when they find out I’m pregnant, they’re going to guess that you’re the baby’s father.”
Relief pours through me, warm as water, when she says she’s pregnant.
“Fuck.” I let my breath out.
“That bad, huh?”
“No. God, no. Marley.” I take her hand, closing mine around it. “I don’t fucking care if anybody knows. I’m so damn glad you’re still pregnant.” I blow my breath out, bracing myself to open up to her. To share my thoughts. “I got scared that night, down by the lake. Just like you said. After you left, I did some soul searching and started out to find you, and that’s when I saw the cars.”
“What cars?” She looks confused.
“The ones that gathered for your mother,” I say softly.
Her pretty, red mouth tightens into an angry line. Pushing past me, she unlocks her door and pushes it open, walks into her living room and plops down on the couch. She sets the pie in her lap, draping one hand over it. Then and only then does she look at me.
“What do you want, Gabe? You’ve stayed away for all this time, and that’s okay. I’m fine, and I’ve enjoyed the pies. I’ve got our baby in me, and I have a feeling he or she is going to be strong and healthy, possibly with berry eyes and whipped cream hair. What more can I do for you?”
My throat stings as I look down at her. “I miss you, Marley. I miss your face…your voice. I’ve been wondering about the baby, too, but Marley—I was missing you.”
Her eyes glimmer with tears as she looks down at her lap. “Could have fooled me.”
Because I didn’t come. She doesn’t have to say it. I take two short steps to her and kneel in front of her. “You remember that night of your birthday? Right here?”
“Not that much,” she whispers, still clutching the pie.
I lean over, take one of her hands—and Marley lets me.
“I was so damn happy that night.”
“Why?” she whispers.
“Because you were talking to me. I found out I wasn’t no one to you.”
“No. Of course not, Gabe. You never have been. I never gave you that impression. If anything,” her eyes on mine are lasers, “it’s always kind of been the other way around. I care too much about you.”
“No…Marley. That’s not true. I just go chicken shit around you.”
“Why?” she wipes her eyes under her glasses.
I grit my teeth. “You know why.”
“I’m not in guessing mode, Gabe. Spit it out or get on going.”
I inhale, feeling my stomach bottom out. “Because I love you, Marley.”
Marley starts to cry, and I’m not sure what that means, but I get up on the couch beside her, wrap my arms around her. “Marley—I wasn’t wanting a damn baby.” Her body stiffens at my words, and I rush to explain. “I don’t not want one. But I wasn’t looking for one.” I laugh at how crazy it all sounds—and, in fact, is. I rub her arm. “I wanted you. I wanted to give you a baby. That’s the only reason all this happened, you know. Because I wanted you.”
2
Marley
I look down at my legs so I don’t have to see his face—so stark and honest-seeming, so hope-giving. I swallow and then whisper, “I don’t think that can be true.”