Part VI
I didn't hear him come to bed last night, but I wake up wrapped up in him. He's sound asleep and doesn't stir when I wriggle free. He obviously got busy after I fell asleep because the fridge has been stocked up, and there's laundry in the washing machine which I hang out on the washing line. I make tea and take it outside, just trying to let the minutes flow. My house, my garden, my lover - my husband - my baby.
My mother.
I'm going to have to call her and soon. Maybe I should just do it, make the call I never thought I'd make, right now before I've had chance to think about it too much, to start to write the script I know is already drafted somewhere in my mind. Just do it.
"Oh, God, Abby, I'm sorry, sweetie, I don't mean to cry . . . "
"It's OK, Mom."
"I'm so happy for you, for both of you, but you know, I never thought . . . "
"Me neither."
"I'm going to be a grandma, a grandma, Abby!"
"Sure looks that way."
"Did you call Eric?"
"Not yet. I'll do it tomorrow. We could use a day to just get over the travelling."
"How was it? Was it good? Were they pleased?"
"I don't know if pleased really does it justice. But yeah, they were happy about it". I laugh a little then. "I mean, they had about 30 seconds to get over the shock of us getting married on the sly and then . . . this."
"I know how they must have felt." Ouch. " I'd love to meet them, they sound like real nice people."
"They are." Ha. Ivica, nice. The thought of him and my mother together in the same room brings me out in a cold sweat.
"I wish I could have been at the wedding, Abby." She can't quite keep the reproach out of her voice.
"Mom, no-one was at the wedding but us and the witnesses. It wasn't that sort of wedding, you know?"
"Do you have photographs? What did you wear? Did you have flowers?"
"A pant suit, yes we have some pictures and Luka bought flowers for me. " He's good with flowers, my husband.
"Send the pictures, you have to send the pictures." I know what she wants me to say. She wants to come and visit, to hug me, and leave smudges of lipstick on me. And on Luka. Here goes.
"Well, why don't you come and visit, see the house, give Luka the mother in law talk, tell me what a cute baby I was, all that stuff."
"Really? You want me to come visit?" There are tears in her voice. Shit.
"Of course we do." We. I wonder if she notices that.
"Oh, I'd love to, I was so hoping you'd ask." No kidding. "When would be good for you?"
"Look, let me and Luka look at our schedules when we get back to work and I'll call you."
"When do you go back?"
"Day after tomorrow. I'll call, Mom."
"Promise."
"I promise. Look, I have to go."
"Abby."
"Yes?"
"I love you." She's calm now, and serious.
"I know."
"You do?"
"Yes. I love you too. I gotta go. I'll call."
She's surprised. She's not the only one. Carter's eyebrows damned near disappear into his hair when I tell him the day before we leave for Croatia. I'm waiting for the delighted grin, the congratulations and I half expect him to go find Luka, slap him on the back and do that guy stuff, maybe for the words "You old dog" to figure in there somewhere. Doesn't happen. Instead he looks . . . sceptical.
"Pregnant."
"Yeah, you know, sperm, ovum, cell division, implantation. Come on, Carter, med school wasn't that long ago." I'm making with the flippant remarks but I'm feeling panicked by his reaction.
"That why you got married?"
"Not that it's any of your business, but no."
"No?"
"No. I'd have done either one without the other."
"Really."
"Really."
"Well, I'm pleased for you."
"Yeah, I can tell." I get up to go because I'm getting mad now and I want to cry and this jerk sure as hell isn't going to see me do it.
"Abby"
"What?" I don't turn round. He doesn't answer so now I have to turn and look at him. "What?"
"I'm happy for you." I've heard that before, a long time ago; I didn't believe it then either.
"No, Carter, I've seen happy and this isn't it."
"It's just . I mean . we never even talked about this." He's wondering now whether it would have made a difference to us but he doesn't say it and I'm glad because I don't have an answer to that. Maybe I'm afraid that it would have. "I thought you didn't want - "
"Things change, Carter. People change. I didn't used to think so, but shit, I'm the living proof. I changed."
"For Luka."
"No, not for Luka, asshole, for me. I thought you understood that. You know, I'd like you to be happy for me but the truth is, if you're not that's your problem, not mine. I don't need your approval but I kinda expected your support. My mistake, I guess."
I don't wait for his reply. Fuck him. Ha. Been there, done that, and right there I understand what his problem is; he's jealous. Oh, not of me and Luka, that's not even an issue any more; no, I've just overtaken him in the Getting Your Shit Together Stakes. He's like the best friend who finds herself choking on your great new job, or house, or the fact that you lost 40 pounds and got the trophy boyfriend. That's the thing with best friends - they're you, sort of, and then suddenly they're not.
Still, he finds me just as I'm about to leave, looking a bit sheepish and carrying a patient's effects bag.
"I'm sorry," he says and he grins, and it works every time, I can't stay mad at that smile. "I still worry for you, you know. And . . . didn't see this coming, you caught me on the hop." I don't tell him that he just used Luka's exact words, although it might make him feel a little better. "If it's what you've decided you want then I am, I'm happy for you." There's a moment's pause and then he steps forward and hugs me. "Really, I am."
"You are? Because you know, I was kinda hoping . . . babysitting and stuff."
"I'm not that happy for you."
"Jerk."
"It's what the J in JT Carter stands for, I thought you knew that."
"What's in the bag?"
"Oh, a present for you. Thought that maybe they'd come in handy."
"That's cute," I say as I look into the bag, "real cute."
"I thought so."
"And stolen."
He shrugs. "Call it payback for years of being barfed on in the line of duty."
The bag is full of emesis basins.
It's a relief to have called Maggie and I can sit in the spring sunshine and watch laundry blowing in the breeze and think that the grass needs cutting. I don't want a drink, I don't want a cigarette; I want my husband to wake up and come watch laundry with me. And at this moment a kiss is planted on top of my head and he leans over my shoulder to say "Penny for your thoughts."
"No thoughts."
"Good." He settles himself beside me and takes my hand, long legs stretched out in front of him.
"Nice isn't it?"
"Not thinking?"
"Clothes on the line; I never appreciated laundry before."
"No?"
"No. I think maybe I'm turning into my grandmother. She used to hang it out in all weathers, bring shirts and stuff in stiff with frost. Smelt so good when the iron got to it."
"Simple pleasures, huh?"
"Yeah." We're quiet for a moment and then he says "Maggie . . . "
"I called."
"You did?"
"Half an hour ago."
"And?"
"She's coming to visit."
"You OK with that?"
"I invited her."
"When?"
"Just now."
"No, when is she coming?"
"I told her we'd check our schedules and get back to her."
"Want me to call the hospital and see what they have lined up for us?"
"No. Let it wait." I lean in close then and he drapes an arm around me. "Let it wait."
I didn't hear him come to bed last night, but I wake up wrapped up in him. He's sound asleep and doesn't stir when I wriggle free. He obviously got busy after I fell asleep because the fridge has been stocked up, and there's laundry in the washing machine which I hang out on the washing line. I make tea and take it outside, just trying to let the minutes flow. My house, my garden, my lover - my husband - my baby.
My mother.
I'm going to have to call her and soon. Maybe I should just do it, make the call I never thought I'd make, right now before I've had chance to think about it too much, to start to write the script I know is already drafted somewhere in my mind. Just do it.
"Oh, God, Abby, I'm sorry, sweetie, I don't mean to cry . . . "
"It's OK, Mom."
"I'm so happy for you, for both of you, but you know, I never thought . . . "
"Me neither."
"I'm going to be a grandma, a grandma, Abby!"
"Sure looks that way."
"Did you call Eric?"
"Not yet. I'll do it tomorrow. We could use a day to just get over the travelling."
"How was it? Was it good? Were they pleased?"
"I don't know if pleased really does it justice. But yeah, they were happy about it". I laugh a little then. "I mean, they had about 30 seconds to get over the shock of us getting married on the sly and then . . . this."
"I know how they must have felt." Ouch. " I'd love to meet them, they sound like real nice people."
"They are." Ha. Ivica, nice. The thought of him and my mother together in the same room brings me out in a cold sweat.
"I wish I could have been at the wedding, Abby." She can't quite keep the reproach out of her voice.
"Mom, no-one was at the wedding but us and the witnesses. It wasn't that sort of wedding, you know?"
"Do you have photographs? What did you wear? Did you have flowers?"
"A pant suit, yes we have some pictures and Luka bought flowers for me. " He's good with flowers, my husband.
"Send the pictures, you have to send the pictures." I know what she wants me to say. She wants to come and visit, to hug me, and leave smudges of lipstick on me. And on Luka. Here goes.
"Well, why don't you come and visit, see the house, give Luka the mother in law talk, tell me what a cute baby I was, all that stuff."
"Really? You want me to come visit?" There are tears in her voice. Shit.
"Of course we do." We. I wonder if she notices that.
"Oh, I'd love to, I was so hoping you'd ask." No kidding. "When would be good for you?"
"Look, let me and Luka look at our schedules when we get back to work and I'll call you."
"When do you go back?"
"Day after tomorrow. I'll call, Mom."
"Promise."
"I promise. Look, I have to go."
"Abby."
"Yes?"
"I love you." She's calm now, and serious.
"I know."
"You do?"
"Yes. I love you too. I gotta go. I'll call."
She's surprised. She's not the only one. Carter's eyebrows damned near disappear into his hair when I tell him the day before we leave for Croatia. I'm waiting for the delighted grin, the congratulations and I half expect him to go find Luka, slap him on the back and do that guy stuff, maybe for the words "You old dog" to figure in there somewhere. Doesn't happen. Instead he looks . . . sceptical.
"Pregnant."
"Yeah, you know, sperm, ovum, cell division, implantation. Come on, Carter, med school wasn't that long ago." I'm making with the flippant remarks but I'm feeling panicked by his reaction.
"That why you got married?"
"Not that it's any of your business, but no."
"No?"
"No. I'd have done either one without the other."
"Really."
"Really."
"Well, I'm pleased for you."
"Yeah, I can tell." I get up to go because I'm getting mad now and I want to cry and this jerk sure as hell isn't going to see me do it.
"Abby"
"What?" I don't turn round. He doesn't answer so now I have to turn and look at him. "What?"
"I'm happy for you." I've heard that before, a long time ago; I didn't believe it then either.
"No, Carter, I've seen happy and this isn't it."
"It's just . I mean . we never even talked about this." He's wondering now whether it would have made a difference to us but he doesn't say it and I'm glad because I don't have an answer to that. Maybe I'm afraid that it would have. "I thought you didn't want - "
"Things change, Carter. People change. I didn't used to think so, but shit, I'm the living proof. I changed."
"For Luka."
"No, not for Luka, asshole, for me. I thought you understood that. You know, I'd like you to be happy for me but the truth is, if you're not that's your problem, not mine. I don't need your approval but I kinda expected your support. My mistake, I guess."
I don't wait for his reply. Fuck him. Ha. Been there, done that, and right there I understand what his problem is; he's jealous. Oh, not of me and Luka, that's not even an issue any more; no, I've just overtaken him in the Getting Your Shit Together Stakes. He's like the best friend who finds herself choking on your great new job, or house, or the fact that you lost 40 pounds and got the trophy boyfriend. That's the thing with best friends - they're you, sort of, and then suddenly they're not.
Still, he finds me just as I'm about to leave, looking a bit sheepish and carrying a patient's effects bag.
"I'm sorry," he says and he grins, and it works every time, I can't stay mad at that smile. "I still worry for you, you know. And . . . didn't see this coming, you caught me on the hop." I don't tell him that he just used Luka's exact words, although it might make him feel a little better. "If it's what you've decided you want then I am, I'm happy for you." There's a moment's pause and then he steps forward and hugs me. "Really, I am."
"You are? Because you know, I was kinda hoping . . . babysitting and stuff."
"I'm not that happy for you."
"Jerk."
"It's what the J in JT Carter stands for, I thought you knew that."
"What's in the bag?"
"Oh, a present for you. Thought that maybe they'd come in handy."
"That's cute," I say as I look into the bag, "real cute."
"I thought so."
"And stolen."
He shrugs. "Call it payback for years of being barfed on in the line of duty."
The bag is full of emesis basins.
It's a relief to have called Maggie and I can sit in the spring sunshine and watch laundry blowing in the breeze and think that the grass needs cutting. I don't want a drink, I don't want a cigarette; I want my husband to wake up and come watch laundry with me. And at this moment a kiss is planted on top of my head and he leans over my shoulder to say "Penny for your thoughts."
"No thoughts."
"Good." He settles himself beside me and takes my hand, long legs stretched out in front of him.
"Nice isn't it?"
"Not thinking?"
"Clothes on the line; I never appreciated laundry before."
"No?"
"No. I think maybe I'm turning into my grandmother. She used to hang it out in all weathers, bring shirts and stuff in stiff with frost. Smelt so good when the iron got to it."
"Simple pleasures, huh?"
"Yeah." We're quiet for a moment and then he says "Maggie . . . "
"I called."
"You did?"
"Half an hour ago."
"And?"
"She's coming to visit."
"You OK with that?"
"I invited her."
"When?"
"Just now."
"No, when is she coming?"
"I told her we'd check our schedules and get back to her."
"Want me to call the hospital and see what they have lined up for us?"
"No. Let it wait." I lean in close then and he drapes an arm around me. "Let it wait."