Maddie's Diary

by Dana

This is the journal Maddie kept while in Chicago.

In the episode " A Trip To The Moon" Maddie leaves for Chicago for four and a half months. This is her diary she kept while she was there.



MADDIE'S DIARY
BY DANA




AUGUST 5

I feel silly doing this. I haven't done this since high school. A minute ago I thought I had a ton to say but now my brain is blank.

A therapist once told me that in periods of great confusion in my life, it might be helpful to keep a diary or a journal. Actually, I can't remember a time that I was more confused than what I am right now. So, I figure I'll see if she was worth $85 an hour and give it a shot.

I just flew home to Chicago to visit my parents. Got here this morning on the red eye. No planning no nothing. Not like me at all. But I had to get out of Los Angeles. Everything was getting out of control. David and I, work... I needed to get away, get some perspective. Take a time out. I feel like a soldier under heavy fire who just jumped in a foxhole. I just wonder how long I can keep cover.

My parents were dumbfounded when they saw me. I must look like I've been run over by a bus. No sleep, wrinkled clothes, David's scent still on me. Mom even asked if I had the flu. No flu, but I felt awful so I retreated up here in my old room. For a few minutes I just laid here listening, staring. It seems like the only thing that has changed since high school is me. The same sound the air conditioning makes when it kicks on, the same slam of the garage door. Hell, even the posters on my bedroom wall are still up. Yellow and faded, but they're still hanging. Very strange.

Okay, I feel like I am getting the hang of this. I feel like my brain is opening up a little. I am thinking a little clearer.

I called David a little while ago. I didn't want to, but I thought I should because I didn't want him to worry. Hearing him was harder than I thought it would be. He was angry, maybe even a little hurt. I assured him that this was for the best. I said I needed time, space and to figure out what was going on with us. He didn't agree with me but he didn't disagree either. I don't know if that's good or bad.

I also told him not to call me. I didn't mean to hurt him, but in the best interest of my own sanity, it has to be that way. You see, if I knew he was calling I would wait for him, and I'd wonder why he didn't if there was a time when I needed him to. Does that sound crazy? Yeah, I guess it does.

All right, if I am going to do this diary thing I should be completely honest with myself. The big reason why I asked him not to call was because I couldn't bear to hear his voice. Not that he has a bad voice. It's just the opposite. See, he has this tone, it's almost a whisper. I guess you could call it his "bedroom voice." It's thick and low and slides out his mouth through his smirk. It's the kind of whisper that tickles your earlobe and lets you know he really means it when he says he loves you.

I may be naïve but I like to believe he uses that voice only for me. And for some reason it really gets to me when he uses it over the phone. He knows this and uses it against me all the time. I can't tell you how many times he calls me when I am with a client just to embarrass me. One sentence and I'm hooked. Throw in a "honey" or "baby" and I'm putty. I lose all control.

Okay, okay, so asking him not to call might have been unreasonable but I had too. He would convinced me to come home and had a told him I was leaving he would have convinced me to stay in LA. This is something I have to do my way and if he truly loves me he will understand.

I hope he understands.

AUGUST 7

Well, I'm still here and still getting adjusted. I haven't left the house at all and my parents are really beginning to worry. I keep telling them I'm still jetlagged and maybe I am, but mostly I just don't feel like being social. I don't know how to describe how I feel. I better try though because my parents are really at the end of their rope.

So like I said I am getting adjusted. It's nice being cooked for again. Mom has even done a few loads of my laundry. During the day I pretty much keep to myself, in my room or somewhere else where no one is. I nap a lot too. Truth is, I have turned almost nocturnal, watching TV, reading, existing mostly after midnight. I don't know why, but things seem more urgent at night. My mind won't shut down no matter how much I want it to..

There is one thing that keeps me awake that I am kind of embarrassed to admit. I miss David at night. I mean, the bed is so big and I have grown so accustomed to having him next to me. It's nothing to do with sex or anything. It's just comfortable to have him there.

It's funny, but I have slept alone (with a few short-term exceptions) all my life and I always enjoyed my space. Boyfriends would leave early in the morning and I would be grateful to reclaim their side for a few hours. But David was different. I loved to wake up in the middle of the night and hear him breathing beside me. I can't tell you how many thunderstorms I have watched pass outside my window from inside David's arms. I miss the way he would stroke my hair as I fell asleep. I even miss his snoring.

This morning I woke up just before dawn. Not realizing where I was (and where David wasn't) I asked him if he had set the alarm clock. Whenever we had this conversation, which was often, he usually just groaned and fell back to sleep. But today, I got no answer and when I rolled over the bed was empty. At first I wasn't alarmed. Sometimes David gets up early to go back to his apartment, but when he did he always kissed me goodbye. I called out his name, and then I realized where I was. Thousands of miles away. He wasn't even in the same time zone.

I shouldn't complain, after all leaving was my choice. And overnight companionship is nowhere near the issues I am dealing with. But be that as it may, I still miss him and I refuse to sleep in the middle of the bed. I'll leave the left side vacant, just so I don't get used to the space.


AUGUST 12

I have been here almost a week and things don't seem to be getting much easier. I feel sick all the time, my parents think I am crazy, and I am no less confused now than what I was when I got here.

It doesn't help that I dream about him all the time either. I can't help it. I feel sick, so I sleep and when I sleep, all my brain seems to come up with is David Addison. All kinds of dreams. Sometimes its just nonsensical fragments, sometimes they are perfect little vignettes with a beginning and an end. Sometimes they are a replay of things that have happened before. That's what this was, but with it's own little twists and embellishments that only dreams can provide.

It was about three weeks ago and David came to my house late one night after a Lakers game had gone overtime. It had been raining, and when I answered the door he was soaked. He just stood there with this goofy smile. Next thing I knew he was dragging me out into the downpour and threw me down on the lawn. He wanted to make love right there, and we nearly did until I stopped him. In reality we went back inside, but in my dream we never did. We just let the rain fall over us while we made love. Afterwards, he held me close just like he always does. But in this dream it seemed significant that was holding me under him, as if he were shielding me from the brunt of the storm.

Get it? He was protecting me from the storm. Now I am not one to analyze dreams but that has got to mean something. Maybe it means that he should make me feel safe? Does he? I don't know. I guess so. I mean, its not like he is an ax murderer or anything. But maybe I am being to literal. Maybe I need to ask myself if I feel safe with him in our relationship. Hmmm, well. I don't know. That something to consider.


AUGUST 20

I have been thinking a lot about this fear/David as my protector thing. And now I know the dream is important because I keep having it. But I will pose the same question. Do I feel safe in our relationship? The answer is yes and no.

All right. I will try to be honest with myself. Painfully, brutally honest. I can say that David has never done anything to hurt me. Ever. But the weird thing is, is that that's a big part of why I fear our relationship. What if he does hurt me? What if I do buy into this undying love promise of his and it doesn't work out? Is it fair for me to hold back from him because I am always waiting for the other shoe to drop?

I mean, take monogamy for example. David Addison monogamous? Please. He has had more flavors than Baskin Robbins. But what if he finds something he likes better tomorrow? What if we do stay together and three years, two kids and a mortgage down the road he runs off with some college coed? It's not like he's not the type to do it. What if I don't live up to the goddess image he has built in his head? What if Maddie Hayes is not all he had hoped she would be?

Ok, I am insecure. There, I said it. Maddie Hayes is insecure in her relationship with David Addison. I really don't get why. I can't think of one time he has ever given me a reason to feel that way. I mean, I have seen him look at other women but so what. There hasn't been a day that has gone by he hasn't told me he loves me since he first said it. Except of course while I have been here.

So this is my problem. My insecurities I mean. I wonder if he has them too? He must. I am sure it's hard to hear over and over how unsure the woman he loves is about their relationship. Now many pacts could he take?

Now I feel terrible. Maybe I should call him and tell him what I have been thinking. But have I really solved anything? No, I would be calling to tell him I was insecure about our relationship. I can just hear his smirking voice "Old news, sweetheart. Old news."


AUGUST 25

So today I was holed up in my room doing a crossword puzzle when the maid slid an envelope under my door. I feel bad. She could have knocked, I would have answered. Anyway, guess who sent it?

For a moment I just stared at it. I knew his handwriting and I could swear I smelled his aftershave on it. Anyway, after a few deep breaths I opened it. It was like a book. Four pages at least. I have to admit, it made me laugh. The whole thing was like a giant memo of business happenings and cases I missed. The stuff he comes up with! Something about flying a vintage bi plane in LA traffic. I wish I knew how his mind worked.

He is trying so hard. With the business. With us. I have to give credit where credit is due. It's not everyone who can just leave their job for an extended amount of time and expect everyone to else to fill in. But David is pulling through, and from what I have gathered from reading his letters, quite well. Business is booming. Maybe he does understand responsibility.


AUGUST 29

I have been here for a while and I am starting to get really nervous about something. I'm three weeks late. The bad kind of late. The kind of late you are when you are going to have a baby. Now, I could be overreacting. I have been under a lot of stress and traveling can wreak havoc on your body. But I should be adjusted by now.

Last month I forgot my pill two days in a row. David and I were on stakeout and I never made it home to take them. It didn't really faze me since I wasn't in a relationship or anything then, but a few days later Sam showed up and then David...well we all know how that went.

David asked me a few times about birth control. I told him I was on the pill and I should have admitted the missed doses but I didn't. I don't know why. He offered to use condoms and a few times we did, but sometimes the spontaneity of it all put a nix on that idea. And besides, I knew my cycle. I had looked at the calendar. The horse had already been let out of the barn.

Well I can't worry about it now. I have to get dressed for this crazy party my parents threw together at the last minute. I think it's their way of getting me out of my room. Now I just have to find my other black dress. The one I planned to wear seemed a little snug.


Sept 2 2am

My hand is shaking as I write this. I have no idea what I am feeling or what I intend on writing but.....I am pregnant. Pregnant. With child. Expecting. All those things. I just found out. There was this doctor I met at the party. We left...anyway how I found out is not important. What is important is the fact that I am.

I have no idea how I feel about this. All I do know is that I had this overwhelming need to tell someone. The first person I thought of was David. You have no idea what it was like to dial those digits. My fingers were numb. He wasn't there and I am kind of glad he wasn't. I have no clue what I would have said if he had answered anyway. There is a whole hell of a lot to consider, and I want t digest it first before I invite him in for a bite. So I figured Agnes was a safe person to tell and I'm sure she will keep it to herself. After all, David needs to hear this from me.

I wonder where he was tonight anyway. It's after midnight and tomorrow is a workday. Maybe he is out with Burt and Agnes. Maybe he took a walk. He does that sometimes when he can't sleep. I probably won't be able to sleep tonight myself.

Go figure.


SEPTEMBER 2, 11am

Remind me NOT to confide in Agnes next time. I just got this cryptic phone call from David informing me he is heading out here. Now what do I do?

The first, and really the only thing out of his mouth was "How long have you known?" I hope he doesn't think I left LA knowing I was pregnant. I have to admit it seems logical. But he has to know me better than that. I wouldn't do that.....would I?

I told him I wasn't ready for the conversation and I'm still not. Him being here won't make it any easier to talk about. I was considering his feelings too, not wanting to say things I didn't mean in the heat of the moment.

I hate that he heard it from Agnes. Like I was conspiring to hide it from him or something. Does he really think I would keep something like that from him? He must because news like that would never make him angry. If I had told him he would have been understanding. Shocked, but understanding. More that understanding. He would have been concerned. Interested.

Then why didn't I tell him? Maybe because I don't want him to be interested or concerned. Not yet anyway. I mean, I have to deal with this myself first. I have to tell my parents.

And what about Sam?

I don't want to even think about that. I know there is every possibility that this is Sam's baby. Does David know that? Does he even care? Would he care if he knew? Add another dilemma to the list of things I need to mull over.

Well, I should call Agnes and see when David is getting in. The least I can do is meet him at the airport.


SEPTEMBER 5

David never showed up and I have no idea where the man is. Either does Agnes. Any other person and I would be worried, but this is David Addison. He probably went to Mexico and got lost in a few dozen bottles of Tequila.

I really appreciate that he honored my wishes by not coming here. It's actually been nice keeping this secret to myself for a while. Getting used to it all. I am starting to like the idea of having a baby. Being a mom. It's funny, but yesterday at the airport I saw this woman with a little boy, maybe a year old. She was reading him a Sesame Street story while he curled up in her lap. I never really noticed things like that before. I just keep thinking how that's going to be me soon.

The idea of having a baby is one thing, but being pregnant is quite another. So far, I really don't see the fun in it. I am tired, and I am really sick of throwing up all the time. I feel like Sigourney Weaver in "Alien"


SEPTEMBER 8

The strangest thing just happened. I was sleeping when my mother burst into my room. She said something about David calling from jail and needing a judge. I hope he hasn't been arrested. He is looking at jail time since he refuses to stop parking in fire lanes. Do they put warrants out for unpaid parking tickets?

I am worried. Mom said he was calling right back. Well, lets see. He can't be arrested because he couldn't call me back. He'd only get one call. Although this is Addison we are talking about. He turns on the charm, he's hard to refuse. He could get his own private jailhouse phone line if he wanted it bad enough.

It's been twenty minutes. Maybe I should call him? I don't know why, but I just have this bad feeling. What if he is rotting away with hardened criminals? I remember last year when he was arrested with Ritchie for disorderly conduct. Something about margaritas out of a fishbowl and lewd comments to a female police officer impersonating a mud wrestler. I don't want to talk about it.

I am sure he is okay. He has to be. But I'm sleeping with the phone by me just in case. If I don't hear from him, I'll call in the morning. He can last twelve hours in the joint.

He just better sleep on his back.


SEPTEMBER 10

David called as I figured he would after hearing my messages, and yes he was safe and sound. I asked him where he had been and mumbled something about Aliens and vodka. I decided not to probe further.

We actually had a pretty good conversation. It was very light, nothing too deep. I asked about the office he asked about the weather. He did say one thing though that at first I didn't really think a whole lot about, but now is starting to bother me.

He asked me how I had been feeling. And I told him how I had never felt sicker or more tired in all my life and I joked how this child was already making him mom crazy. And he said, "Must have his Dad's personality."

I laughed when he said it, but it wasn't until after we got off the phone that it really struck me. Why did he say that? Does he assume that I am carrying his baby? Does he think or know that there is a chance that Sam is really the father? Was that his way of saying that he didn't care about the possibility of Sam being the father?

I knew there was merit on restricting phone contact. Why don't I take my own advice? Don't call!

SEPTEMBER 15

It's three in the morning and I am sick as a dog. Whoever coined the phrase "Morning Sickness" is full of crap because let me tell you it is an all day ordeal. I cannot eat anything that has an odor. I can't even wash my clothes in scented detergent. I gag uncontrollably and lying down only makes it worse.

I am also baffled by is the weight gain. I swear in the past week I haven't kept more than a few meals down and I have gained two pounds. How is that possible? Oh the joys of pregnancy. And it has just begun.

Anyway, in between trips to the bathroom to vomit I have been watching this movie. It's an old Goldie Hawn/Chevy Chase movie called Seems Like Old Times. Goldie Hawn and Chevy Chase's characters are divorced but they meet back up and discover they still have feelings for each other. But their lives are going in different directions and despite the immense love they have for each other they stay apart.

I find myself completely relating to this plot. Just like Goldie's character, I completely concede the fact that I love David, the Chevy Chase character. But our lives are so different. Our personalities, our hopes and dreams. At least I think they are.

What are my hopes and dreams anyway?

Well, I remember in high school, sitting in this very room, I spent a lot of time mapping out my life. I wanted to be one of the most successful models in the world. Mission accomplished if I do say so myself. I also wanted a "real" career. Well, even though private investigation is not the occupation I imagined going into, I can say that it satisfies the requirement. I also wanted a family with a nice house good kids and a husband that worships me. That has yet to be fulfilled.

It's not like I haven't been proposed to. And I am not talking about the perverted fan letters that I used to get from guys during my modeling days. I mean, offers that were good and sometimes I wonder why I passed them up.

The first serious one came in college, from Sam. I really would have married him then, but I knew I was going to be in Europe a lot and it really wouldn't make any sense. I can tell you though that in the years since I have sometimes regretted that decision. You'd think that I would have said yes when he asked me again a few months ago. Truth is is that I'm glad I said no. Both times. I love Sam but not in the way a woman should love her husband. I love him like I love my favorite pair of slippers or a sunny day. You don't need them but you just enjoy them because they're there. It's a convenient kind of love. The type I know I wouldn't put much work in to preserving if it was ever tested.

There is nothing convenient about my love for David. I don't know if that makes it better or worse. Over the past few weeks, I have thought a lot about this, how I define my love for David, that is, and I'm not sure if I CAN'T figure it out or if I don't WANT to figure it out. Or maybe I don't want to admit to myself how much I really do love him.

I suppose if this whole journal thing is going to work I have write down all my thoughts, even the ones I hate that I am having. It just don't like how seeing them in writing lends them importance. When they are in my head I can shove them around so they are hard to find. That way I don't have to deal with them.
I know, I am avoiding the subject, aren't I?
Anyway, how do I love David? The best way I can explain it is this. I love Sam because it was the right thing to do. I chose to. I love David because I couldn't help myself. It's wild and deep and so beyond my human strength that it takes my breath away. I can't control how much I crave it. It's like a drug and the more I have the more I want. And I can no longer tell the difference between desire and need. And that's what is so dangerous.

Any amount of common sense would tell you that if something is dangerous, stay away from it. But here is the kicker. It's when I try to keep my distance, is when I am the most miserable. David said to me once "Blondie, the thing about you is if you are not IN CONTROL of a situation, you LOSE CONTROL." I would never admit this to his face but he is right.

I am still amazed I had the willpower to say no to David when he asked me to marry him. Usually one look in his deep blue eyes and I melt. But this time..I remember it so clearly. It was at his apartment late one night after we had just wrapped a case. He bought champagne to celebrate and of course we ended up in bed before we could drink any. But just as I was about to fall asleep, he asked me to fish the corkscrew out of the nightstand drawer. He had the oddest look on his face and I was just about to express my disgust at his need to keep a corkscrew in the bedroom when I came across it. It was a small black velvet box and I could tell by the markings it was from Harry Winston.

I remember how he pulled it out of my trembling hand and wordlessly opened the box. I still have no idea how he could afford it. I mean, this was no little diamond chip. He must have read my expression because all he said was "I only want the best for my wife."

His voice was little more than a whisper, the tone I love so much. Tears welled in his eyes and the beginnings of his trademark smirk pulled at the corners at his mouth. I couldn't speak myself, too struck by how much I loved the word "wife" rolling off his tongue. For a split second I thought this was the moment I had waited for my whole life. A commitment from a man I truly loved. But somehow I couldn't say yes. I don't know why.

All I do know is that my silence was interpreted as a "no", and as quickly as the moment happened upon us it was over. David shut the box with a loud snap and unceremoniously threw it back in the drawer. We never talked about it again.

I remember once having this conversation with a bunch of girls on a modeling tour in Milan. We were wondering if people had a one and only soul mate. I laughed it off at the time, but now I think the idea has some merit. I do think David and I were destined to meet, fall in love. I just don't know if that guarantees happily ever after.

I can not micromanage destiny. But that doesn't stop me from trying.

Well I feel another trip to the porcelain God coming on. I should just sleep in the bathtub.


SEPTEMBER 19

Okay I am a little embarrassed to address this topic but I shouldn't be. After all I am a liberated, independent woman who revels in her sexual assertiveness. There is no reason I should be bashful.

I need.... well....I guess you could say I am craving sexual attention, or as David would say, "horny." I don't know what it is. I have gone much longer than this without physical intimacy before. It must be all the pregnancy hormones. All I know is I think about it a lot, and I dream about it almost every night. With lots of different men. Not at once! One dream is about Clint Eastwood. The next its Robert Redford. And of course I dream about David all the time.

I mean it sincerely when I say David is the best lover I ever had. I don't gush about it to him, he doesn't need his ego boosted more than it already is, but I reassure him when he asks me if I enjoyed it.

It's not the physical nature of David Addison that makes it so good with him. I mean yeah he has a great body with great.....parts......but that's just one aspect of it. I have to say without reservation that he is probably the most sensitive lover I have ever had.

I had always figured that if and when David and I ever had sex it would be wild and animalistic; Crazy, frenzied and physical. But it hasn't turned out that way. Sure, we've had our share of crazy quickies and broken our share of furniture, but lots of times it's quite the opposite. He takes his time. He is slow, deliberate and sensual. A side of David I knew that existed but had no idea how adept he was in expressing it.

I remember the first night we made love. At first it was crazy. One minute we were screaming at each other and the next, clawing each other on my living room floor. But all of a sudden the mood changed. Like someone threw a switch or something. I remember him pulling away from our kiss, and just staring at me with glassy blue eyes. It was like he was asking my permission, or making sure that what we were doing was what I wanted.

He carried me to bed and for a few good minutes we just kissed until we both knew this was meant to be. That's when he stopped again, looked me dead in the eye and told me he loved me. It was the first time he had ever said it.

I have never experienced a man more tender than David. He knows exactly what I need when I need it. Where to touch me, when to hold me. It's funny but in the bedroom there has always been a meeting of the minds. No once has he made me feel less than the most desirable woman in the world to him. Who could ask for more than that?

Then why am I?


SEPTEMBER 24

I love my mother with all my heart, but if mom asks me again if I am okay I am going to scream. I shouldn't complain I know. Both my parents have been nothing but supportive of all. I'm just edgy. Hormones I guess.

I know how lucky I am to have parents like mine. Some people my age have lost their parents already or simply don't get along with them. I have always been on the same page as my parents and even though I live across the country from them, I consider us close.

Sometimes I feel sorry for David. He isn't close with his father at all, and he is squeamish around his step mom Stephanie for reasons I won't bother to discuss. He does get along with his brother for the most part, but he doesn't keep in that close touch. I have suggested that he call him from time to time, or even go visit him in Philadelphia but he never seems that interested.

I wish I knew more about David's mom. He NEVER talks about her, but from what I have gleaned from Ritchie, it sounds like she was a real wonderful woman. Ritchie was eleven and David was nine when she died, of what I am not exactly sure. Ritchie told me that David and she were very close, and when she was alive the Addison household was a happy one. Church on Sunday, Little League games, summers at their family retreat in Upstate NY.

But after she was gone, everything kind of fell apart. Mr. Addison withdrew from the boys, spending all his time with his business. They quit playing Little League and there were no more summer vacations. In David's eyes Mr. Addison was to blame for everything. He regarded it his father's job to keep his family safe, and resented him for failing miserably. David still blames his father for not protecting his mom from whatever killed her, and according to Ritchie, on the day they buried her, David swore that he would succeed where his father had failed, and when he grew up he would never let any harm come to his family.

The Addison boys had to raise themselves and David really never got over his mother's death. Ritchie says for a year after, every morning on his way to school David would visit his mom's grave. Some mornings Ritchie would secretly follow, hiding behind tombstones and mausoleums so he wouldn't be discovered. Everyday it was the same; David would give her headstone a kiss and sing over and over "What a Friend We Have In Jesus". It was his mother's favorite hymn and the song she would sing to coax the boys back to sleep after a nightmare.

I know his mother's death is something that still deeply affects him, and I also know it has influenced his respect for the family unit. Whenever we have a case that has to do with divorce or a spouse's death he always asks if there are children involved and how they are. I remember just recently we had this case involving Margaret Kendal. We were investigating the integrity of her fiancé and her father didn't much approve of him. Anyway, her mother had died when she was small and her father had raised her. To me she was just another case, but for some reason David really took it to heart.

I vividly remember a conversation we had about her. Right after we had closed the case, we ended up in bed. I was just about to fall asleep when I realized David was wide-awake staring at the ceiling. I was sure he was mulling over our situation, but he denied it. He just turned to me and said, "I was just thinking about Margaret Kendal. Her Dad is gone, and I know what it's like not have a mother. It's hard losing your mom when you're young. You don't ever get over it. You're never really happy. I mean you are.. It's kind of like having an ice cream sundae and never allowed a cherry on top. There's always something missing. That guy better take care of her."

He kissed me on my forehead, and held me tighter than he ever had before. For the first time, I think ever, I realized just how painful his mother's passing was. I mean here he was in bed with his...me.. and he is talking about missing his mom. But I know what he was saying. To him a mother transcends everything. He puts them on pedestals. I just hope that if this is his child, I will make him happy, and have my child love me the way he loved his mother.



SEPTEMBER 29

I have only been pregnant for two months I swear I am showing. My clothes are tighter and I can definitely see a difference in my shape even if nobody else can. It's strange to think that there is something growing inside of me.

I cannot believe I have already put on eight pounds.. How is that possible when I am vomiting all the time? If I was going to gain the weight I would at least like to get a few good meals out of it. Oh well, if the doctor isn't worried, then I shouldn't be. I just wish I could fit into my clothes.

For the most part I am happy with my body. I know I don't have the same physique that I did when I was eighteen, but I still look good in a swimsuit. David loves my legs. I can't tell you how many piggish ways he has asked me to wear a mini skirt to work.

I wonder what David will think of me when he sees me? I mean when he sees how my body has changed. Not that I am insecure. After all, pregnancy is a very natural thing, and I strongly believe that a pregnant woman's body is beautiful. I just wonder if David will think so.

Okay I admit it, maybe I am a little self conscience. I just wonder if David will still feel the same attraction to me when I'm nine months pregnant as he does when I am toned and slim. He has always made such a big deal about my physical appearance, and I admit that I love his attention. Sometimes though I wonder if he would think less of me if I wasn't the Blue Moon Girl. What if I was just another blonde?

I can't tell you how many times I have caught him looking at my framed covers on my bedroom wall. Sometimes I would pretend I didn't notice, but once in a while I would tease him and ask what he is looking at. Usually he just smiled, say something lewd and laugh it off. But once he said something I will never forget. He said "You don't have to look like that for me to love you, Maddie Hayes."

Corny I know, but it was just what I wanted to hear. All my life I never knew if men wanted me simply because I had a nice face or because I was a nice person. Most people before David knew me as the Blue Moon Girl, world famous supermodel with a pretty smile and a nice rack. David knows me as Maddie Hayes, entrepreneur with substance and smarts. Of course he likes how I look, but he loves me for who I am.

Well, I should look at things this way, now David has much more of me to look at.

OCTOBER 2
I am feeling a little lonely tonight. I could use a close friend, a buddy. This is one of those few times that I wish I had a sister to confide in.

David has a lot of friends and sometimes I am envious of that. I would NEVER admit that to him, but its true. He has his basketball friends, his softball friends, his drinking friends. I haven't met many but whenever I have seen David in his element he is always the ringleader, ready and willing to have a good time.

I wouldn't know how to be a ringleader, and I guess over the years I have depended on David to entertain me. He worries sometimes that I don't "go out" or "do things" enough. I think he thinks I am lonely. But the truth is I like solitude. Being alone doesn't bother me. I can do what I want when I want to without worrying about anyone else. Everything is on my time and done my way. Being David seems so complicated, always going in different directions never a moment's peace. But I love him like that. He wouldn't be David if he wasn't complicated and I wouldn't miss him if he didn't keep me guessing.


OCTOBER 5

Its probably premature but I am starting to think about names for the baby. Agnes sent me a baby name book and I have been thumbing through it. I think I have come up with a few good ones.

I have always toyed with the idea of naming a child after one or both of my parents. Alexander or Virginia. Virginia is really only fitting for a female and quite honestly I don't really like it. But I do like Alexander, and for a girl it could be Alexandria. Although I couldn't really use one parents name without the other.

If it were a boy and if things all worked out with David, I suppose I would have to go with David Addison III. Just what the world needs. And I hate sequels. Although I remember David saying once that if he ever had a son, he wouldn't be that upset if that tradition was let go. I don't think he likes being a sequel either.

So for a boy I like the name Dylan. I don't know why, I just do. But for a girl I am having a harder time. I remember once David and I had a conversation about someone named Chelsea and he commented on how pretty he thought that name was. I thought so too and for some reason that has stuck with me. So for a girl I would have to say my choice is Chelsea.

The big question is the last name. I haven't really given it much thought but I suppose I couldn't go wrong with "Hayes". I could always do "Hayes-Addison" if I had to, but that's stupid. Can you imagine being six and writing that last name on all your belongings? Well anyway, I like the name Chelsea and it blends with everything. Chelsea Hayes sounds good, but I like Chelsea Addison even better.


OCTOBER 9, 2AM

I cannot believe how hungry I am all the time. I mean, I am either sick beyond belief or famished. There is no in between.

Little known fact about David. He is a great cook. I know, I know, I was shocked too. Single guy like him. You figure all he has in his kitchen is peanut butter, a six-pack and maybe a forgotten pizza crust here or there. That's all I ever found until one night I came home to my house with a five-course meal waiting for me. There David was standing in the doorway of my kitchen wearing my apron and a smile. I couldn't believe what I was seeing. The table was set, candlelight of course, Barry White was playing on the stereo. And the smell coming from the kitchen. I still have a hard time believing he didn't hire a caterer.

His specialty is fish. That is surprising too since he has always claimed how much he hated it. I have come to learn that he doesn't really hate it, he is just sort of sick of it. Plus I think it reminds him of things he rather forget.

When he was growing up, his Dad owned Seaside Fish and they always had fresh cuts in the icebox. After his mom died his Dad wasn't really around a lot so he made his own meals. He knows everything from how to make a perfect beer batter for a fish fry to how to season clams casino. As person who loves fish and loves to eat even more, this particular talent of his is quite appealing.

I could really go for his special swordfish concoction. He does it on the grill with dill and other spices. Then he makes these really good potatoes, and fresh asparagus. (He makes that special for me. He hates veggies) He calls it "Dave's Big Tasty Sword". I know, there is even sexual innuendo contained in his dinner recipes.

That's my David.


OCTOBER 13

I really like Dr. Hill. I have had a few questions, and when I call he is more than nice. My Dad likes him too. And his lawn of course.

I actually met Steve the night my parents had that awful party. He brought mail that had gone to his house by mistake. Anyway, details are not important but the short story is that I needed to get out of the house and I made him take me.

In all honesty, I didn't take off with him for some urgent need for fresh air. I think what I wanted was to test myself. I wanted to see what it would be like to be with a man, a different man, a man that under any other circumstance I would be attracted to if I wasn't so preoccupied with everything else.

He must have thought I was crazy. I don't think I said a word to him. I just remember sitting there hearing him speak but not listening. I didn't like sharing the space like I do with David. I didn't like looking beside me and seeing stranger's profile. I didn't like how he listened to talk radio and I hated that he signaled when he turned.

If this was a test, I'm not sure if I passed or failed. I have no idea what I was looking for to happen, but whatever it was it didn't. All I knew was how helpless I felt, and confused and scared and angry and lonely. What was I doing driving around late a night in the middle of Chicago with some guy I just met a half hour before? Why couldn't this guy save me? Why didn't he know exactly how I felt and exactly what to say? Why wasn't he the answer to all my problems?

Why wasn't he David?

I just turned toward the window and watched the street light pass in a thick blur. And I remember thinking how badly I missed the way David would reach across the seat and rest his hand on my knee when he knew I was upset about a case or something.

Next thing I knew I was at the hospital urinating in a cup. And then I was home, and Steve became Dr. Hill and I was no longer just me.

And I still missed David.

OCTOBER 18

Lately I have been daydreaming about what the baby is going to be like. I mean his traits, what things he might get from me, what things he might get from David. What kind of person the two of us combined would make.

If I could place an order, or "build the perfect baby" so to speak I wouldn't really know what to ask for. I'd want him to be smart of course, and a good person. Well adjusted and happy I guess. But what if I had a say in things like appearance. I wonder if he would have dark features like David or light like mine. I wouldn't mind David's complexion. I burn in the sun and he tans. I love David's eyes. I would definitely want the baby to have his eyes. And his smile. That little devilish smirk is irresistible.

I would want the baby to have my tenacity and self-confidence. A sense of humor like David's along with his sensitivity and gentleness. Both David and I are athletic and musical so I hope those assets are passed down. Throw in a helping of spontaneity and a dash of spunk, and we end up with a recipe of our perfect child.

Really, I just hope he or she is healthy.

And happy. I want my child to be happy. If I could give him my childhood I would. I can't imagine one any better.

I lived in this very house in upper class Chicago all my life, the only child of two doting parents. Dad owns his own advertising agency and mom stayed at home with me. I guess I was spoiled, tennis lessons, ballet class; When I was twelve, my Dad even bought me my own horse. I enjoyed being the center of attention and I milked it for everything it was worth. When Daddy called me "princess" I definitely believed it.

In elementary school, I made friends easily. I was a tomboy and I loved playing with the boys. You name it, I played it and most of the time I won. I had the best jump shot on the block, and I was cleanup hitter in little league. I was the kicker for our town's Pop Warner football team, and when I fished I put my own worm on the hook. God, did that earn respect from the boys.

I had a lot of girlfriends too, but I don't remember enjoying my time with them as much as I did with the boys. Once in a while I would hang out with Sophie and Jane, the Lavin sisters down the street but not that often. I was never all that interested in Barbie and that's ALL they ever played.

If I could rewind my life and spend time with myself, I would go back to being nine for a few days. Go for a bike ride, run through a sprinkler, maybe shoot a few hoops. But mostly I would want to just experience that feeling. Where everything is just fun. Nothing is urgent or threatening. Its just easy and free.

That's how I want my baby's life to be. Easy.

Do you think David would ever believe that I played football? .




OCTOBER 25

My mother thinks I am a tramp.

I have been wondering when my parents were going to break down and start bombarding me with questions. And now they won't have to. I just unloaded everything my mother ever wanted to know and some stuff she probably didn't. I told her point blank that I wasn't sure who the father was. She asked me if it could be David's and I said yes. Call me crazy but I think I made her day.

I was surprised she didn't ask who the other possible father was. That's the one thing I have no intention of revealing. I don't know why. Its not that I hate him, because I really don't. I just hate the situation he put me in, or I put myself in, when he came to Los Angeles.

Sam. Its funny, but some of my first memories are of Sam. I can still picture him as a little kid, skateboard in one hand math book in the other. He was kind of clumsy and very shy. He was teased a lot in school, largely because he was so smart, but also because he was kind of nerdy looking. Bowl cut hair, thick glasses. It's almost hard to reconcile what he was then to what he is know. Lets face it. Sam is one hell of a good looking man. But before he was anything else to me, he was just the boy next door.

The Crawford's moved here the summer before we started kindergarten. Our parents became really good friends playing bridge on Friday nights, golf on Sunday. Our dads even were partners for tennis. I met Sam the first day of school at the bus stop. We had the same yellow lunchbox, and we thought it was so cool that we started a secret yellow lunch box club. From that day on we were inseparable.

We were both only children and we each depended on the other for company. Rainy days were passed in his basement playroom, Saturday afternoons were spent on my jungle gym. Most of my fifth grade summer I was camping in Sam's backyard. I remember the cannonball contests we would have at the country club swimming pool. I had the best form, he made the biggest splashes. And I still remember the secret handshake we invented on my tenth birthday. He was the only boy allowed at my party.

As we matured so did our friendship. In middle school his parents divorced and we would have these marathon phone conversations lasting well into the morning hours. We would talk about everything school, boys, girls, parents, life. There were even a few occasions where he would scale my trellis and spend the night in my bed, just so we could be close to one another. Those were some of the best nights sleeps I ever had.

When we got to high school we drifted, Sam's mom sold the house and they moved across town. I rarely saw him except for Christmas parties at the club or the occasional run in at the supermarket. But when our paths did cross it was as if time hadn't passed. It was as easy and comfortable as it always had been.

It wasn't until years later that Sam and I had any romantic involvement. I was in a Boston restaurant after a photo shoot and in he walked with a bunch of fraternity brothers. We struck up a conversation and the next thing I new I was planning my modeling schedule around his semester breaks.

I guess you could say it was a good relationship. But now that I look back, I think it was good because it was mostly long distance. Because of my work and his school, we only saw each other a few days a month. Sometimes nothing more than a weekend. Months later he went to grad school. He got his own apartment and to me, it made our relationship more "grown up". Sam made me feel like a woman. He showed me what it was like to really have a man love me. He was my first real sexual relationship and with him I learned to express my self as a woman with no fear and no reservation.

I did not love him, but I loved what he did for me.

But gratitude didn't mean I owe him my life, and I knew a long term commitment was what he was looking for. We broke up after a year or so and I lost track of him for a long time. Until he showed up in Los Angeles.

I don't feel any different now than I did a decade ago. No matter what he meant to me in the past doesn't mean he has a place in my future. He simply doesn't fit. I refuse to even consider him as a potential father to this baby. He's more like an intruder or a virus. I don't know if I can explain it, so I guess I won't try.

Anyway, I truly feel better that some of my secrets are out of the bag. Maybe in time I will tell my mom about Sam but it's nothing I need to go into now. I'd rather just stick to the crisis at hand and thank God Mom and Dad have been so supportive. I just hope when this is all over they will understand everything and be proud of me and their grandbaby.


NOVEMBER 1

Today is All Saints Day. I know because it is a Holy Day and every year David is late for work because he goes to mass. Of course, he doesn't tell me why he is late. I think since I told him I was an atheist he is embarrassed about his beliefs and keeps stuff from me. Like I don't notice the smudge of dirt on his forehead on Ash Wednesday or the palms hidden under papers from Palm Sunday.

I feel bad that he thinks he has to hide things from me, but I do know how he feels. I hide things from him too. Like that I am rethinking my position about the existence of God and Heaven.

I don't know why that's such a secret. It shouldn't be. I think David was really hurt when I declared my religious beliefs (or lack there of). I didn't think it was such a big deal. Religion was never a priority in my house growing up. I don't recall ever even going to church except for an occasional Easter or Christmas. The only impressions I had of Jesus or God were from TV or books with pictures of colorful deities with people weeping at their feet. I thought religion was supposed to bring strength and piece of mind. These people limp at the foot of Jesus looked battered and forlorn. That's not how I pictured myself. I wanted to be strong. In control of my own destiny. Not throwing everything over to someone or something I couldn't see. Maybe I missed the point, but religion to me was solace for the weak and I didn't need it. If good or bad things happened to me, it was of my making. I could congratulate or blame myself.

But now...I don't know. Maybe it's David's input or maybe it has something to do with the realization that there is a person inside me. But all of this leads me to another issue. I know that if this were David's baby he would probably like him (or her) to have at least some religious influence. David was raised Roman Catholic, went to Catholic school and takes it all very seriously. I really wouldn't have a problem if David wanted him baptized as such. I don't know.

Maybe I am getting a little ahead of myself.


NOVEMBER 3

I just had this weird thought. I wonder if David has been with anyone else since I've been here. I mean, like in a date capacity. The reason why I am thinking this all of a sudden is because of a couple of phone messages David left on my machine last week. Funny, I haven't really taken them seriously until now.

The first one was this angry declaration about how he had wasted enough time on me and that he wanted to get back to his life and forget about us. Of course I was upset, until I heard his next message a day later. He was babbling about how sorry he was and he didn't mean "it". That's all he said "it". Now, I just took that to mean he was sorry about the message he had left the day before but now I am not so sure. I am wondering if he meant something else.

I am probably reading too much in to this. I better be. Although, now that I think about he did sound pretty guilty. Or tired. I don't know. But what if he did do what I wonder if he did? The thought of it makes me sick. How could he do something like that to me?

Disgusting. I should have known he would pull something like this. For him to keep his pants zipped for more than a week would be like cutting it off. And I know the kinds of tramps he brings home. Plaster face Barbie dolls with mattresses strapped to their backs. God, it makes me sick to think where he's been. Many a time I wished he'd boil himself before he sat on our office furniture after a night of David Addison debauchery.

I can't think about this any more. I am nauseous as it is. And besides if I weren't so angry I would be hurt. You know, I never ended it with him. And I even told him that night in the Laundromat that he better not dance with anyone else. Okay, so I didn't know then that I was leaving for Chicago, but I knew deep down that I wasn't going to see him in the morning.

I may have been gone for longer than I planned, but I still consider David mine. I never let him go, I just sort of put him on hold. If he can't understand that and doesn't respect me enough to keep his eye from wandering than he can go to hell! And I mean that!

I think.



NOVEMBER 10

I was just going through some of my old stuff Mom packed away, and I found my Senior Year Book. Impressions 1971. It's funny, but I don't remember anyone in it.

That could have a lot to do with fact that I was hardly ever there. I mean a month in Paris, winter in Milan, who had time for high school? But hey, I was there long enough to be MVP of the varsity swim team my freshman year. State Butterfly Champion, thank you very much. After that I didn't have time to swim anymore. Plus the chlorine gave me split ends.

Truth is, my high school years were pretty miserable. My "perfect childhood" came to a screeching halt when I turned fourteen. That winter my aunt sent in a Christmas photo of me to some judging committee and next thing I knew I was standing on a stage with a silver tiara on my head. One minute I was my schools star female athlete, the next I was a beauty queen. Hail Miss Teen Chicago!

My life changed completely after that. Miss Teen Chicago led to Miss Teen Illinois, then Teen USA, then ultimately International Model of the Year. All of a sudden I was a cover girl. Seventeen magazine, Vogue, Harpers Bazaar. I couldn't go through the grocery store check out without my picture staring back at me. People I didn't know would stop me on the street and talk to me. Movie stars would call me, rock stars would mail me. The whole world knew who I was. By sixteen, I made five times what my Dad made in a year and I was the most successful model in the world.

The rest of the world may have loved me, but to my friends I became invisible. By the time I returned to school in the fall of my sophomore year, no one would even speak to me. When I had left in the spring I was "Maddie Hayes, the blond with the killer Butterfly. Now I was Maddie Hayes, the blond, killer bitch. Girls who had been so close to me months before were tripping me in the halls or whispering behind my backs. Boys who begged to carry my books would give me dirty looks when I passed. I had gum stuck in my hair, signs taped to my back. Even my teachers would grade me unfairly.

The more successful I became, the more unbearable school was. I was away for longer spans of time, and the longer I was gone the harder it was to get settled back in. As I got older the girls seemed more and more immature. Who cared about sales at the department stores when world famous designers were begging me to wear their fashions? Why go to a stupid prom when I was sitting third row at the Academy Awards? I couldn't relate to them anymore and I didn't want to.

By the end of my junior year I just stopped trying. I became the bitch that everyone thought I was. I was mean and surly and tough. I know now it was the only way I could deal with how hurt I was. As I looked back, I know how starved I was for some kind of closeness. My mother accompanied me sometimes on trips but most of the time I was only allowed a personal assistant hired by my agency. I didn't have a sibling. So I learned to tolerate my loneliness.

Sometimes my desperation got me into trouble.

Senior year, Mr. Farr became my Math teacher. Every girl in the school had a crush on him because he looked like Paul McCartney. He was about forty, but acted a lot younger always talking to the students about the best new records or the latest movies. He was the only person in that school who was ever kind to me. Just a warm smile from him would move me to tears.

One afternoon he asked me to stay late to help me with my algebra. It was the one class I cared about, all because I wanted to repay Mr. Farr for his kindness. But as it turned out, it wasn't my studies he was interested in at all.

It was late in the afternoon, well after most of the teachers had left for the night. I remember waiting in the hall by his office forever before he showed up, and when he did he didn't seem quit right. He looked nervous, out of sorts. I even asked him if he felt okay.

He hurried me in to his office and shut the door behind him. I don't recall any conversation. I just remember his smile and the awkward way he sat down next to me, easing my math book out of my lap. I flinched when I felt his fingers run over my thigh. I am not sure if we feigned interest in Algebra or not, but the next thing I remember was him kissing me. A deep, passionate, wet kiss.

I was stunned, not because I was frightened but because I wasn't expecting how good it felt. I had never experienced that kind of closeness with anyone before. I loved how he tasted, how soft his lips were, how his breath tickled my cheek. I could feel my body tighten and swell.

This was what "need" felt like.

Then all of a sudden something changed. Maybe I mislead him or the moment simply passed but he pulled away from me. He didn't smile or speak. He just stared at me while he nimbly unfastened his belt buckle. I will never forget the look in his eyes. I had seen it before in other men, right before I had been whisked away by bodyguards. It was the same kind of need that I felt but with one big difference. This was the dangerous kind. The kind that requires possession.

I wanted so badly to run but my legs didn't feel strong enough to carry me. The next thing I knew I was laying spread eagle across his desk blotter, watching over his shoulder the second hand spin around the clock on the wall. It didn't feel good but it didn't feel bad. I didn't feel anything. I just closed my eyes, clenched my fists and waited for it to be over.

I never returned to school after that. I couldn't. Of course I was hurt and scared, but later that all gave way to this terrible anger. Not only toward him, but toward myself. What if I had invited this? Why did I let this happened? I hadn't even let a boy kiss me and I didn't stop Mr. Farr from doing what he did?

I never told a soul about that day. I just tried to put him as far from my mind as I possibly could. I turned eighteen that spring and moved to New York permanently to pursue my career and get on with my life.

I have heard people describe me as "cold" or "icy" and sometimes I resent it. I want to tell those people that if I come off that way it is just an overcompensation for feeling vulnerable. Believe me, I have spent a lot of money on coming to that conclusion. That ten minute terror in Mr. Farr's office dictated many of my past relationships. There was a period where I hated men. I didn't know how to trust them, so I didn't try to. It was just easier to keep my guard up. If I didn't give to any one, no one would take from me and if I followed my own rules, nothing would hurt me again.

Yeah, right.

Five years later, I ran into Mr. Farr on a flight to Boston on my way to see Sam. I spent the whole flight with my eyes closed, biting the inside of my cheek so I could hold back the sobs. After that, I couldn't bring myself to get on a plane again for almost a year. Sam thought I was suddenly afraid to fly and I let him believe it. I didn't want to get into it. And I didn't think I ever would.

But there was this one night, about a week before I left David. We were lying in bed, discussing my need for yet a new pact when he asked me what I was so afraid of. I could have told him everything. About how Mr. Farr had violated me, about how hard anger made me, and how frustrated I was that I still let it all affect me. It would have been so easy to find the words. They were right there on my tongue. But I kept my mouth shut. Just like I always had, swallowing everything in one big lump.

And I am glad I did. It really was just a moment of weakness that occurred at the worst possible time. A post coital pillow talk with David Addison.

But let me set the record straight so I don't have to mention it again. I am no victim. As David would say, "Shit Happens" and I am the person I am today because of that shit. I like me, my life, my age. Everyone has their own foibles and personality flaws that need to be worked around. I think I have done that quite well.

I'm not afraid to fly anymore, am I?



NOVEMBER 14

I keep getting these phone messages from David. Mom tells me how cute and sweet he is on the phone, and quit frankly I am tired of hearing about it. I am fully aware of his charm. I know what just his voice can do to me. Why do you think I was so adamant about no telephone contact?

I can't get over how much my parents love David. Well, my Dad doesn't really say much but my Mom goes on and on about much fun she had with him in LA. My parents are really pushing the marriage thing too. I am not sure how much David and my parents have talked, but sometimes I feel like they are conspiring behind my back. Okay, so maybe I am a little paranoid. But it is at least fair to say that mom is sitting in David's bleachers.

I also know my mother is REALLY curious about who the other candidate is as far as paternity. She hasn't come out and asked, but she says things like " Well I am sure David would be wonderful father. I can't think of anyone else who would be a better support. Can you, Maddie?"

What can I say to that? It's not like I can blurt out "Well actually I was just thinking Sam Crawford might be a better choice. What do you think, Mom?" Actually I was curious the other day and I brought up Sam in conversation, just to see my Moms reaction. She hemmed and hawed for a while, then came clean. She never wanted to tell me because she knew Sam and I were close but she never really like him. His parents were lousy bridge partners and Sam was a spoiled brat. Guess that answers my question.

As for me, I have tried very hard not to think about Sam being the father. Really, I have only been thinking in terms of David either being the father or NOT being the father. When I chose to be with David, I really meant it. I never regretted letting Sam go, not seriously anyway. I don't make a habit out of looking back, rethinking my decisions. There's no point. The decisions I made were for a good reason. Move forward. Move on.

But I can't get ahead of myself either. I'm not sure if there is a way to prove paternity before a baby is born, and I don't know that I would want to anyway. All I do know is that I would never go back to Sam under any circumstances. And if the baby is Sam's...well that's a bridge I hope I don't have to cross but if it comes to that...

Like I said, it's a bridge I'd rather not cross.


NOVEMBER 23

Well, this week is Thanksgiving and my mom is making a big deal out of it as usual. I actually haven't been home for the holidays in a while. The past few years I have been so preoccupied with Blue Moon that I never really could take time out. Usually I have Thanksgiving and Christmas with my Aunt Ruth and Uncle Charlie back in LA. But Ruth died last Christmas and Charlie moved to Florida, so I had no plans this year anyway.

I wonder what is going on with everyone in Los Angeles this Thanksgiving? Well, lets see. The office usually closes Thanksgiving week and most will leave town. Agnes and Burt will probably go to Bakersfield to visit Agnes's mom. And David....I don't know what he'll do. I know some years he goes home to Philadelphia, but that is normally just Christmas.

Truth is with holidays setting in, I'm starting to miss David even more. It's been so long since I've seen him. Three months. It must be true what they say 'Absence makes the heart grow fonder." because I am even starting to miss the things about him that drive me crazy. He even has rubbed off on me. The other day my mother asked me if I had been taking my prenatal vitamins and I heard my self start to say " Of course. Do bears bear? Do bees be?" What does that say about my state of mind?

Of course I haven't gone completely crazy. I still don't miss pompous attitude, his three digit bar tabs he charges to Blue Moon or his sticky shaving cream on my bathroom counter. But like I said, there are a bunch of things about him, habits, idiosyncrasies of his that I definitely did not plan on missing.

Like his singing in the shower. I can't tell you how many times I have woken up to an off-key heavy-metal rendition of "Love Man" or a David Addison interpretation of "Sexual Healing." One morning I was so fed up that I filled up a cup of ice water and dumped it over the shower stall. That shut him up for a minute, until he dragged me in there with him. That was my favorite silk dress too.

I also miss his backrubs. They are amazing. There has been many a night here in Chicago when I really could have used one. He uses just the right amount of baby oil and has all the right moves. He could patent his massages.

I miss his smirk, the strong coffee he makes most mornings, and the way he runs his fingers through my hair when I'm lying in his arms. I miss the way he winks at me from across the room, how he drives for days with the low fuel light on, and the perverted phone messages he leaves me on my answering machine.

I am glad I miss David. I want to miss him because missing him makes it clearer to me that I do love him. In the right way. The way I am supposed to. I have an agenda now. I know what I have to do and I will be returning to LA, and hopefully to David.


NOVEMBER 28

How many different ways can there be to have a baby? I mean, I know there are two ways, the natural way and caesarian section but today at the doctor I was handed all these pamphlets on labor management for natural childbirth. Its sounds like a cooperation or something.

Anyway, I have been thumbing through them, and I realized that I need a birth coach. A birth coach! Leave it to men to make having a baby into a team sport that requires a coach.

Actually, knowing someone will be with you every step of the way does sound comforting. My mom volunteered but I said no. There is no way I would burden her with that. I don't know how long I am staying here, but I know I can't stay forever, and there is no question in my mind that this baby will be born in Los Angeles. With a coach? That remains to be seen.


DECEMBER 3

I was driving home from the doctor today (everything is fine) when for some reason I took the long way through the park. It snowed last night so kids were sledding, making snow angels and building snowmen. Near the jungle gym a little girl and her father were building a snow fort. I almost parked so I could watch.

I think David is going to be an excellent Dad. I can just see him shooting hoops or going to a hockey game with his son. But I can also see David with a little girl too. Carrying her on his shoulders, taking her to the circus, breaking her fall when she tried to bike ride without her training wheels.

Some times I forget why I left him in the first place. Like this is a big game that should now be called off because of the odd number of players. But I also feel like things are starting to come together for me. I think I am beginning to see the light.

Yesterday I got a letter from David. He has been sending them all along but this one had a different tone all together. This one was serious, sincere. Like he is tired of this too. This is what it said.

Maddie,

Hey beautiful. How are things with the 'rents? I don't know if your Dad mentioned it or not but I ran into him when he was out here in LA on business. We didn't hang out long or anything, just a quick conversation. Of course I asked about you. He said you were fine, feeling good. I was glad to hear that. He did mention however that weren't experiencing the easiest pregnancy in the world and that you were a little apprehensive about coming home.

I don't know what you have told your Dad about us or how much he knows about what is going on and really I don't care. What I do care about is you. I know these past four months have been very hard on you. It's been hard on me too. But I just want you to know once and for all that you don't have to be nervous about coming home to Los Angeles. You know, I really am not that bad a person. You are really starting to give me a complex.

Look, It's really important that you know how I feel and where I am coming from because it would really kill me if the reason you were staying in Chicago was because you thought I was going to reject you in some way. Maddie, please believe me when I tell you that you have nothing to fear from me. I love you so much, sweetheart. I just miss you with all my heart. Baby or no baby, nothing is ever going to change the way I feel about you. As a matter of fact I am getting sorta excited about the whole thing. I told you a long time ago I though you'd make a hell of a mother. Now here is your chance.

This is our chance.

I know we have a lot to iron out when you get back and I do want to iron it out. I am here just like I have always been and not because I have to be. I am ready Maddie, for this, for you, everything.

Hurry home, baby.

Love,
David

How sweet is that? I don't know if it solves anything, but it means everything to me. How did he know what I needed to hear?

DECEMBER 5

Okay, I know I am getting way ahead of myself but I can't help but think about it. Well, I guess I'm not that out of line. I have having the guy's baby. I can daydream about our wedding. I think I'm allowed that.

I know most girls growing up dream about their wedding day, what they would wear, where it would be. I admit I did the same, but I haven't thought about it in years. I guess after I hit thirty, "marriage" started to drop down my list of things to think about, knocked out by "what to do now that my money is stolen" and "how do I pull off being a detective." But en light of recent events I have found myself drifting back to the idea.

Of course in my recent version of my wedding the groom is David. I love the way he looks in a tuxedo. As much as the man drives me crazy, he drives me wild in a tux. Add a five o'clock shadow and a hint of aftershave, I am silly putty.

Depending on the decade and the season, my taste in bridal fashion has changed but one thing remains the same. I want to look like a princess. I don't want a dress that makes me look like a prostitute with my cleavage hanging out and a slit up to my eyeballs. I want a full gown with an empire waist, a long veil and an intricate train a mile long. I have always pictured my hair down but for David I would definitely sweep my hair up. He loves it when I wear my hair up. He has this thing about my neck.

I can't see a big wedding. I prefer a more intimate gathering, thirty, fifty people tops. It would be candlelit in a gazebo with fountains of champagne and huge bouquets of red roses. I would have a string quartette playing the Pacabel Canon as we exchange vows, and David teary eyed as he kissed the bride.

Okay, okay, so I got a little carried away. So maybe I have thought about it. I wonder if David has? Probably not, what guy would? I wonder what he would say about my version. I know he would probably insist we get married in a church, probably by a priest. That would be okay by me. But other than that, I don't think he would care much about the ceremony. I think he'd be more concerned with the drink specials at the reception.


DECEMBER 7, 7pm

Just when I thought I maybe could pull everything together, something else comes up throwing another wrench in the works. But this is possibly the worst thing that could happen. I haven't stopped crying in hours.

Let me begin at the beginning. This morning I was sitting in the living room looking at old photo albums when a package was Fed Exed to my door. It was a box of all sorts of baby stuff, books, lists of doctors in LA, baby outfits, booties. I thought it was from Agnes since the return address was the office but it turns out it was all from David. From David.

And then it all finally clicked. David really had meant everything he said, everything he promised. He did love me. He did want this baby, and he wanted this to work out. I understood it and I finally believed it.

So I called Amtrak and booked a train back to LA. I would have flown but Dr. Hill advises pregnant woman in advanced maternal age (I know. Thanks for reminding me) not to fly. I was thinking of flying anyway but why take the chance. All I knew was how badly I needed to be with David right at that moment.

I wanted to call David, but I didn't want to rush our conversation and I had a doctor's appointment. Here is when things went all wrong. Today was my ultrasound. I was excited to see our baby and I figured I could tell David all about it when I spoke to him after, but things didn't work out that way.

Anyway, the ultrasound was fine and the technician told me that I was right on schedule for my due date. I asked casually how she knew, and she said that the ultrasound could tell the day of conception based on size and development of the fetus. All of a sudden I broke in to a sweat and I thought I was going to faint. That's when she said it. She said the date of conception was Aug 8th.

That was the last night I slept with Sam.

I can't even remember driving home. I couldn't believe this was happening. On the way over to the doctor I was contemplating maternity wedding fashions and now.. I can't imagine even looking David in the eye.

Now what do I do? I keep looking at the phone and I want to call David but I have no clue what to say. I haven't cancelled my plans for going home, but I am wondering if I should. I can't do this to him, to us. Just when I thought I had it all figured out...

DECEMBER 7 LATER

I haven't slept at all, and I know I really should but I can't turn my brain off. I want so badly to pick up the phone and call David but at the same time the thought of it scares me to death. See, the thing is, I am not afraid he would reject me. I know David would love this baby as his own but I am not sure I am willing to hold him to that responsibility.

Don't get me wrong I think he would be a wonderful father, but what happens a month, a year, ten years down the line when he wakes up one morning and realizes he is trapped? That I trapped him. That I held him responsible for a mess of my own making. What if he hated me?

I refuse to lie to him. Bottom line. I just wish I didn't know, that I never knew. David wouldn't care if he didn't know, but he might if he did. Does that make sense? Either way, I know the baby is Sam's and I have to tell him. I have to tell him because I love him and I won't lie to him.

What about Sam? I don't know. I know in theory I should tell Sam, but in this instance I think it would be a bad decision for everyone involved. Sam would be angry, put out and cold. He hates kids, always has. He even calls them parasites. I know what would happen if I told him. He would berate me for getting pregnant in the first place, and then insist I get an abortion. But of course, gentleman that he is, he would insist he pay for it.

What a guy.

So I guess I am still going home tomorrow and I will deal with David when I get back to LA. I just can't call him tonight. I wouldn't know what to say.



DECEMBER 28

Well this is it. Its 10am and here I am on a train. Destination: Los Angeles. This has to be the right decision. I hope it is. Of course I am nervous but it doesn't matter. I have to pick up, move on and live my life. I know that there are a ton of questions, but I think I am ready to actually sit down with David and try to find some answers. For the past few hours I have been sitting here watching the scenery go by and making a sort of mental agenda. A list of goals just so I don't lose sight of why I am returning home in the first place. Here are the highlights.

1) I love David. I might have always loved him and as frustrating as it is at times I want to love him. I have come to realize that even through my feelings for him may exhaust me, I can't and I won't look at how I feel about him as an affliction any more.
2) I truly want to try and work things out with David. Of course, that now all depends on David and if he wants to work things out with me. He was right before when he said I never let myself be happy. But now I am more than willing to try.
3) I have to tell David about the baby. This is going to be the hardest thing I'd ever had to do. I know he really wants to be the father and it would be so easy not to say anything but I won't lie. Not to him and not about something as important as this. If he wants to be this baby's father, it has to be for the right reasons. I want it to be his choice.

I still have time to call him and tell him that I am coming, but I can't. Call me crazy but it gives me some warped sense of control of the situation.

So I am off. I'll keep my fingers crossed.


THE END