The noise that bubbled around in my throat reminded me of the sounds Louie and Josh had made when they were babies. Unlike me, Vanessa had three older sisters. Three bitch-cunt-twat sisters, but they were blood nonetheless. I’d sworn a long time ago that some day before I died, I was going to cut each one of those pieces of crap for what they had done to my best friend when she was a kid. But in that moment, I was reminded of what I had always known—we were sisters, Van and I. Blood or not. Different races and all. She’d been the serious, quiet one who kept us out of trouble, and I had been the reckless, loud one who tried to talk her into getting into trouble. We were each other’s yin and yang.
“We’ll start with PG-13 when he’s eight,” I croaked out, leaning over her again to hug her and kiss her cheek repeatedly as we both cried and snotted on each other according to the moisture on places I couldn’t reach. “I can’t believe you really did it. You have a baby.”
“I can’t believe it either.”
I pulled back enough so we could look each other in the eyes again. “We’ve been through some shit, haven’t we?” I asked her, smiling.
Her laugh filled the space between us. “We’ve been through all kinds of shit, D,” she agreed, her voice choppy.
I was sure we both thought the same thing: it was only the beginning.
Together we had been through crushes, boyfriends, heartbreak, fights, family problems, twenty miles, thousands of miles, school, a marriage, death… everything. She must have been thinking of those exact same things because Van, who was so much more reserved than me on a regular basis, kissed my cheek again. She squeezed my hand.
I squeezed hers right back. “There’s no one else I would rather have gone through all that shit with than you, you baby whale. I love you.”
“I love you too,” Van said.
We were all wrapped up in each other when something nudged my shoulder, and when I glanced up, my face feeling puffy and wet for the second time that day, I found Aiden standing right by me with that not-so-little baby in his arms.
“Here,” this massive, mountain of a man whispered.
Using my shoulders, I wiped at my cheeks as much as I could, and cried more as he set the baby—Sammy—in my arms. It had been a long five years since I’d held Louie for the first time. And as I took in that little alien face, my heart swelled and swelled and swelled. “I love him,” I told his parents, meaning each syllable. “You chubby, little chunky monkey, I love you already.” Leaning in a little closer to take in those wrinkled, pink features, I couldn’t help but glance up at Van and puff out my cheeks. I tilted my arms so she could see him again. “You made this. Can I have him?”
“I know.” She sniffled. “And no.”
“You too, Aiden,” I added absently, letting my request go and glancing back at the face inches from mine. Then I glanced back at Van. “This was in your vagina—”
“Diana,” she hissed without the usual amount of zing in her voice.
Looking back at Sammy, I nodded, smiling. “You aren’t the first thing I’ve touched that was in your mommy’s body—”
Vanessa made a choking sound, and I thought her husband might have, too.
She remembered. She remembered that one thing she’d made me hold in my hand that one time when we were twelve.
“But you sure are the best,” I finished whispering to him. I propped him up so she could see him and shook my head. “He would have ripped your ass wide open, Vanny. Look at this head. He has your head.”
She groaned, and I’d swore on my life The Hulk made a sound that was pretty much considered the closest thing to a laugh I’d ever heard from him.
I felt pretty pleased with myself and winked at her. “I really can’t believe you did it. He’s amazing.”
“Whoever thought, huh, Di?”
“I sure as hell didn’t,” I agreed, tearing up again, glancing at my best friend looking like shit on the bed. “Remember how after we watched The Princess Bride, we used to say we were never going to have boyfriends or get married and have kids unless it was with the actor who played Westley?”
Leaning against the bed, I could see Van glance at her husband, smiling. “I’ll never forget.”
“We were going to take turns being his wife,” I reminded her, taking in her child some more. He was such a miracle.
“You were going to get him ten months out of the year and I could have him two,” she informed me. “My mom broke up our fight when we started pulling on each other’s hair, screaming. I remember.”
“Well yeah, I was going to give you half the winter with him. That sounded fair.”
“Cheater.”
I sniffled. “Cheater? You snooze, you lose. I found him first.”
*
It was exactly five days later that I found myself in bed with Vanessa. She was on one side, I was on the other, and Baby Sammy was passed out in the middle. We were watching television; at least that was what we had planned on doing. After spending three days in the hospital following her C-section, she’d been released. I’d taken Van’s car back to their house every night, and her husband had stayed at the hospital with her.
Now that she was home, I was helping her with everything possible, trying to enjoy spending time with her and the baby before I had to fly home. I wasn’t sure when the next time we’d get to see each other would be, but I’d bet it would be months. A lot of months.
“Enough about me, how’s everything with you?” Van whispered from her spot a couple of feet away.
I crossed one ankle over the other and kept my gaze on the rerun we were watching of The Fresh Prince of Bel-Air. “Good. Busy. The usual.”
“You’re a liar,” she muttered, rolling her head to the side to look at me since she couldn’t roll on to her hip to do it.
“No I’m not.”
“You’re rubbing your hand on your leg. You know I know you’re full of shit when you do that.”
My hand was frozen on my leg. Damn it! I hadn’t even realized I was doing it.
“Tell me,” my best friend whispered. “I know something’s up.”
Was something up?
Yeah, it was. Just an hour ago, my phone had rung, on the screen Dallas’s name had showed up.
The day before, he’d called me, too.
And the day before that.
I just hadn’t answered any of his calls. Or called him back. He hadn’t left voice mails, and honestly, it was a relief. I was being a wuss.
Did I know I was being immature? Yes, but every time I saw his name, I couldn’t help but think about what I had said to him in the restroom after the Christy incident.
I could say it: my feelings were still a little raw at her words. Then I felt dumb for opening my fat mouth and telling Dallas his wife was an idiot and hinting that I liked him. I felt stupid, and I hated feeling stupid unless I was doing it on purpose.
I also hated to admit feeling that way, but who else could I tell if I couldn’t tell Vanessa?
“I did something stupid,” I told her.
She went “I knew it!” before asking, “What’s new?”
“Shut up.” I reached over to poke her in the forehead. “Let me make a long story short. There’s this guy—this man, really—”
The pillow hit me in the face so fast I didn’t get a chance to dodge out of the way, and by some miracle managed to catch it before it hit the baby and woke him up. “What the hell, Van? You trying to wake him?”