Jenna slid from the bed to the ground carefully so as not to disrupt Jim. He lay there, still propped up on a pile of pillows, sleeping peacefully. Jenna marveled at how he could do that—just lie there in one position for hours like a total zombie. She always tossed and turned through the night, alternating between overheating and freezing and waking herself up with awful night terrors. Come to think of it, this was the best she'd slept in a long time. Shame quickly ate away that thought before it could continue.
Jenna could hear Lulu's squalls from downstairs, but she still paused to check the stitches on Jim's abdomen—none broken, thank god. Enough guilt was racking Jenna already, she couldn't bear it if she had ripped his stitches too, in her crazy, horny rush at him. Even the bruising looked better, yellowing around the edges, with the nasty redness fading to a more typical purply blue.
Downstairs, Lulu was hungry. Jenna got her settled in a sling at her breast and set about carrying her and the crib back up to the now empty guest room. Trying to navigate setting the crib down in the darkened room, Jenna tripped over something. She sat on the edge of the bed and rubbed her sore toe while Lulu suckled. It was only after Lulu was finished and burped and laid back down to sleep in her crib that Jenna bent over and picked up the offending toe-stubber. It was a tote bag filled with some things from home—Dawn must have packed it and brought it back on that day with the Earl thing.
Jenna rustled about in the bag and came up with the baby monitors. If she were smart, she would curl up in this bed right here with her baby and be the responsible, independent mother she should be.
But it was Jim's first night back in the bed—through whatever means he had gotten there—and if he slid off the edge of the pillows, he could seriously hurt himself. Plus, he might be confused if he woke up and she wasn't there.
Jenna could feel the flimsiness of the argument tickling at her, but it didn't stop her from unwinding the cord on the baby monitor and setting it on the bedside table, near Lulu. She felt almost giddy as she tip-toed down the hallway back to Jim's room, unwrapping the cord on the other monitor and setting it on the bedside table on her side. She couldn't think of it as Francine's or she would start crying or come to her senses and leave.
She slid beneath the sheets slowly, trying not to move them and wake Jim. She didn't want him to know she had made the choice to come back after leaving once.
"I meant what I said," Jim whispered. Jenna barely even jumped—she was used to it at this point.
"What?" she whispered with trepidation. She should have stayed in bed. Her toes warmed at the thought of him realizing she had wanted to be next to him.
"Come away with me."
Jenna lay there for a moment, staring at the ceiling in the darkened room. Her ears buzzed with her pulse, catching sounds that didn't exist. She could feel the weight of Jim's longing pulling at her. Shecurled on her side, facing away from him. Maybe he'd think she'd fallen asleep and didn't hear him or something. That would be best.
The squalling on the baby monitor woke her. She sat up abruptly. Jim was gone. Or not gone, but already standing, using the walker to slowly traverse the bedroom to the door.
"Jim, I can handle it. She's my child."
"Shh, stay in bed."
"What if she's hungry? You can't take care of that."
"You fed her an hour and a half ago. She's not hungry. She probably wet her diaper or just needs to be soothed. I've got it. Sleep."
Jenna recoiled slightly at his tone. She couldn't blame him; she had ignored him. He wanted this life with her and the fact that he couldn't understand why she said no didn't make it any less hurtful.
She sat there in silence, listening to him on the baby monitor as he entered the guest room.
"Hi Lulu!" he said cheerfully. "What's up? A bit fussy, aren't we? Give me a moment, I'm not as fast as I used to be. You probably don't remember that, slightly before your time. Well, you were there, but not exactly—how should I say this—cognizant? I was pretty speedy, once upon a time. Ok let's have a sniff here. . . hoo boy! You've got a stinky one. Let's get you cleaned up. Now, isn't this dresser a nice height for this? I'm kind of tall, in case you didn't notice. I guess everybody must seem tall to you, what with the whole baby thing and all that. But this dresser happens to be perfect, because I don't have to bend over to reach you, and bending over too much right now could be a bit of a disaster. And yes, I know what you're thinking; I did bend over to reach into your crib and get you. Don't worry about it. One or two bends per day won't kill me. It'll just hurt a bit. You know how it goes. I'm used to that, at this point. Yeah. Wow. You have sure got some volume in you. What have you been eating? Beans? You gotta steer clear, kid, they'll mess you up for days. Let me just get this wipe warmed up—I know a cold wipe can't feel any sort of good at this ungodly hour. . ."
He kept prattling on in a gentle, lulling voice, cooing at Lulu throughout the entire diaper change. When he finished, Jenna listened to him begin to soothe Lulu back to sleep. There were a few moments of silence where Jenna figured he had set the baby in her crib, but then she heard him begin to sing.
"Hush little baby, don't say a word, Papa's gonna buy you a mockingbird. And if that mockingbird won't sing, Papa's gonna buy you a diamond ring. . ."
Jenna found it hard to breathe suddenly, sitting there on the bed, listening to his voice through the fuzzy connection of the baby monitor. He didn't know she could hear him. Maybe he was just singing the old lullaby, but when the notes hit her something strange flipped in her stomach. Something wet was on her shirt, and with a start, she realized it was tears. She curled into herself, lying on her side and listening to the voice of the man she so desperately wished was the father of her child. Could he possibly want that too?
Jim came back into the room slowly. Jenna didn't rise to help him get back into the bed, afraid he'd see her tear-stained face. He was slow to lower himself, having to leverage his weight against the walker. Jenna listened to him let out a quiet "oomph!" as he settled, the discomfort obvious in his voice.
The air was tense and awkward. They both knew the other was awake, but neither broke the silence. Jenna could feel her heart pounding in her chest, the damp pillow on her cheek.
"Jim?" she asked quietly, her voice thick and raspy with the tears.
Silence. Jenna began to doubt herself, unsure. The ache in her heart turned from longing to shame.
"What?" he asked.
Jenna didn't turn over, couldn't bring herself to look at him.
"Ok," she said.
He didn't speak. Neither did she.
"Why? Was it the sex? Cause I can't imagine it was very good." His voice was wry.
"No."
"Then what?"
Jenna paused, still afraid to turn and look at him. The air felt thick and solid. She was afraid if she spoke, her words might not cross the space to him.
"Lulu," she finally breathed. "It's like she's already yours."
He didn't reply for a long moment. Then: "It feels like she is."
Jenna finally turned over, sitting up and looking at him. He was facing the ceiling, lying back against the pillows, a fat tear rolling down his cheek.
"Oh Jim, what's wrong?" Jenna scooched over carefully and used her sleeve to wipe the tear away.
"I thought you didn't want me. I thought you'd take her, and I didn't know if I'd see her—or you—again. I don't know."
Jenna wanted to tell him then—tell him that she would only go if it was platonic, if they were friends and nothing else. But she didn't. Because she did want it. She wanted every inch of it: to sleep next to him every night, to bake him pies and have his children and watch him play with them. They'd live in their very own Stanton Grove somewhere very, very far away, and Earl would be a distant memory and maybe they could go on vacations sometimes, and Jenna could volunteer on the PTSA at school and Lulu could play soccer or ride horses or sing and dance or do whatever her little heart desired. Jenna wanted it all. And she wanted it with Jim. And however wrong it may be by anybody else's standards—including her own—they could go suck it.
"I want you," she whispered. The words were filled with meaning, but still somehow sounded weak to her. Jenna took a deep breath and puffed herself up, trying to breath in confidence from the heavy air around them. "Jim Pomatter. Wherever you go for the rest of your life, if you agree to have me, I will follow."
Jim turned to look at her, his mouth dropping open with surprise. Jenna leaned on one elbow and smiled tentatively at him. Already it felt so good, waves of relief coursing over her body. Even the house around them seemed to warm a degree or two, though that could be the way Jim was looking at her.
"It would be really helpful to me," Jim rasped, then cleared his throat, "if you were to move a bit closer. See, I just had surgery a few days ago and I'm not too good on the leaning front, but it might be worth popping a stitch or two right now if it meant getting to kiss you."
Jenna giggled—truly giggled, like a little girl—before closing the distance between them.
Jim did end up popping a stitch that night, but even as Jenna bounced a screaming Lulu on her hip in the ER while the doctor removed the stitch—and the rest, since it was just about due anyways—they couldn't keep the giant grins off their faces. The doctor said he'd never seen a patient so pleased by such a painful, non-anesthetized procedure. Jim told him he couldn't even feel it—he was too busy floating on cloud 9.