Chapter 17
Britain
Matthias squeezes my hand to pull my attention away from the low hills as we drive. “My dad,” he clears his throat, “asked for your number. Is it alright if I give it to him?”
“Oh, sure.” I go back to looking out the window as we pass a cattle ranch. The moonlight glints off the iron sign at the entrance. I could have sworn it said Scala Ranch for a minute. “Do you know why your dad wants to meet with me?” I turn to look at Matthias.
He doesn’t say anything for a moment, just focusing on the road, but finally he says, “I think he just wants to hear what you’ve been up to. Georgia always kept him pretty well informed about what you were doing, and it’s been a couple years since he’s had an update.” Yeah, not since Georgia passed away. I nod silently.
“What was Constantine like as a dad?” I ask him. I remember being so jealous over the way they were together. Like Sandy was born to be a mom and grandma, I always sort of pictured Constantine the same way. The consummate father, always up for a game of catch, happy to teach you how to change a spare tire, protective and comforting.
“Well, I don’t have anything to compare him to, but I think he was a good dad. He taught me how to fish and about business. He showed up to all my soccer games. He always picked out his own birthday gifts for me each year. Which is good because if it was entirely up to Julie, all I would’ve gotten was socks and underwear.” He laughs, but man that woman is…special. “I don’t know, I mean, I guess I could compare him to Julie, in which case he was a rockstar. Why do you ask?”
“Just curious.” I sit and think about how different Alex’s life would’ve been if Constantine would have raised him instead of Ray. What sort of traumas could have been avoided? Of course, I wouldn’t even exist in that scenario, though. Or Matthias and I would be half-siblings. Ick.
I don’t think about Ray much, if ever. Even the sound of his name in my head is foreign. I have absolutely no association with him. It’s wild, because I look at Matthias, Max, Niko, and Silas, and to remove Constantine from their lives would be removing what makes them, well, them. I can only imagine how different all of our lives would’ve been if Constantine had just been added to ours. I shouldn’t think that because it would’ve led to the destruction of their family, but I am envious. Probably always will be.
“You’re lucky to have him, Mats.” He glances over at me and squeezes my hand.
“I know, babe. I hope I can be half the dad he was,” he says, then moves a hand over to my belly in a loving gesture. Dad. Peanut is going to have one hell of a convoluted family dynamic and father-figure scenario. I feel my chest tighten with shame and guilt. Someday will the peanut be wondering why I didn’t stay with Liam so they could be raised by both parents in the same home? Fuck, I’ve made a mess of my life, my kids’ lives.
I let out an anxious sigh as we start getting closer to my house. It feels a bit like Cinderella coming home at the stroke of midnight. The rose-colored glasses get lifted off, and reality starts to take over. Even with running into Julie and Liam, tonight felt like a dream. Getting to be with Matthias and enjoy each other was something I needed, and didn’t even know. But now, all I can think about is Jess, and Liam’s letter, and custody agreements (yes, plural,) and bicoastal living schedules. And it’s fucking overwhelming.
Like a sixth sense, Matthias sees the shift. As we pull into the drive, he relinquishes my hand to maneuver into park. He doesn’t immediately kill the engine or move to get out just yet, though.
“I know it’s a lot to work out, and a lot to figure out, but I’m here, Brit. I’m not going anywhere, and I’ll support you however you need. Whenever you need it.” He’s not going to like this request, though.
“There is something you can support me with…” I say quietly.
“Anything, babe.”
“I’m going to ask Liam to come to my ultrasound next week.” I pause, trying to gauge his reaction, but it’s unreadable so far. “And I just need you to be okay with it.” He doesn’t say anything, but he turns his head away from me to look out the driver’s window. His body language is response enough, and my shoulders drop with disappointment.
We sit there for several minutes, completely silent when I try again, “This baby deserves to have their dad be part of their life, and I can’t let my feelings or history get in the way of that.” I don’t know if Liam will be a good dad or not, but he deserves the chance to at least try. I won’t be the one to prevent him.
“Brit, please don’t do it,” Matthias says, then turns to look at me with tear-lined eyes. I can understand how hard this is, but it’s not up for discussion.
“I have to, Matthias. It’s non-negotiable. I’m asking for your support, not your permission.” I wait, the next move is his. If he doesn’t say anything, I’ll get out of this car and leave it all behind because I won’t fight over this for the next 18 years with a partner. My partner is going to have to accept that I have two exes that have to be part of their kids’ lives, or they won’t, and they won’t be my partner. I’d rather know now, I guess.
“I want to be the one at the ultrasound appointment,” Matthias finally speaks up without looking at me.
“I understand, but I don’t think having everybody at the appointment at the same time is a good idea.”
“No, I mean, I want it to just be you and me. Don’t invite Liam. He had his chance to be present, and a dad.”
“Well, that’s not really how parenting works. You don’t screw up once and then you’re fired. You screw up, and then you get better. That’s how it goes.”
Matthias turns to look at me, hardly a speck of warmth in his expression. “I know I’m not a parent, Britain, but you don’t have to condescend to me.” What the hell?
“I’m not trying to be condescending. But really, this isn’t up for discussion. I just wanted to let you know, and I’d hoped that you could support my decisions like you said you would.” It’s always, ‘I’ll be there for you,’ but only as long as it’s on my terms and you’re doing what I want you to. Maybe he thinks I’m being just as immovable on the subject, but I can’t bend on this. I just can’t.
I wait, hoping to hear him change his mind, but it doesn’t come. He doesn’t say anything. At all. But he does move his hands to brace the steering wheel and turn to look straight ahead, giving me the universal sign of ‘I’m ready to go.’ Fine. I unbuckle my seat belt, grab my purse, and get out of the car, but don’t shut the door just yet.
“I know it’s a lot. I know I’m a lot, but don’t tell someone you’d do anything to make it work or that you’re ready to support anyway, anyhow, when it’s not true.” He doesn’t move or turn to me, and he definitely doesn’t say anything. So I shut the door and walk up the pathway towards the house, expecting him to stop me. To call out for me and say, “Wait!” But he doesn’t. Wow. Instead, the only sound I hear is that of his car driving away.
At least I know now. Damn, Britain, can’t you get anything right in your life for once?
I stop at the front door and hesitate. There’s not one part of me that wants to go in. It’s only 10:15, and chances are there’s at least someone hanging around on the main level making a stealth entrance impossible. I can’t pretend to be okay right now. So I plop onto the bench in the front courtyard instead. Slipping off my shoes, I pull my knees into my chest so I have a place to rest my forehead, and I cry.
When does this all get easier? Is it when you remove romantic entanglements? Is that when your life gets simpler? I think back to a couple months ago, when it was just me at the house in Virginia, all alone.
Ha! Things were definitely simpler then. They weren’t better, but at least I wasn’t pregnant, with two baby daddies and a confusing mess of a life. Ironically, if I had just listened to Damian, or even Jess, I wouldn’t be here right now. They warned me against moving into things too quickly. And now they’re proven right and it’s like my 24-hour engagement all over again — embarrassing. Mortifying. Pathetic. Cringe.
“Britain?” The word echoes in my mind like I’m underwater, or whoever is saying the words is. I just clench my eyes tighter; I’m not ready for consciousness.
“Britain, baby, come on,” the voice says, and then I’m floating. I levitate off the bench, weightlessly, into a warm cocoon to travel in. I snuggle in deeper, craving the warmth, trying desperately to get closer to it. “Christ, you’re freezing,” the voice says, sending a chill running down my spine, yet simultaneously soothing me.
It could have been an hour or thirty seconds, but then I feel like I’m falling, gently. Like a feather falling from the sky, weightlessly drifting into another pile of feathers. I snuggle into the feather bed and practically purr from the comfort and the heat.
“Can I get you something to change into?” The voice wafts over me in waves. It’s so deep, it sounds so warm.
“S-ssocks, and a sss-sweatshirt. P-pp-please.” I lay back as warm fingers drift over me, moving me, rearranging me. At one point, they even hold me up prone to slip a sweatshirt over my naked body. I’m here, but a million miles away, my head and heart too dreary to join the living world.
“I’m going to leave now, okay?” the voice grows farther away, taking all the warmth with it.
I shiver and chatter back, “P-please d-d-don’t l-leave m-me.” I feel the presence move closer and I sink deeper when they get nearer. Deeper into my bed, deeper into my slumber, and deeper into blissful warmth.
From the edges of consciousness, I hear the quietest “Never” whispered over me. And then, like a gift from God, peaceful, black, stillness consumes me.
We’re together, in my dream. I can feel him, I can hear him, but he is unreachable. He is all around me, but not connected to me. He is tangible. I just have to wake up and claim him. Wake up, Britain. Wake up!
But then the voice is there, soothing me again. Shushing me. The warmth pulls me against their body, and I feel like I’m home. Wake up! I can’t, though. Not when all I feel is rightness and warmth and happiness right here, right now. I want this feeling to last forever. If I just keep sleeping, maybe it will…
I wake up to a sharp pain in my neck and an ache in my back. I turn over, slowly, to see the sheets and duvet on the other half of the bed are mussed, like someone else was sleeping there. I try to rub the sleep out of my eyes and make sense of it all, but I can’t. Did Matthias stay over? The sleep hangover I’m wading through is unlike any I’ve felt before. My limbs feel heavy and slow, and when I go to sit up, my head slams against my skull painfully and I hiss from the discomfort.
Did someone turn the heat on? It feels like it’s 90 degrees. And why am I wearing a sweatshirt? And socks? The last thing I really remember from last night was sitting on the bench outside and then coming to bed. Maybe somebody helped me to bed? But I don’t think so.
Ugh, I don’t feel good. Dropping back on the mattress, I fumble for my phone on the bedside table. I open my messages and type out a text with one eye closed. The light hurts.
Britain: What cold medicine can I take while pregnant?
I close both eyes and wait for a response, but it never comes. Instead, Jess enters my room, immediately taking a thermometer to my forehead. She lets out a little huff and then the thermometer beeps loudly letting me know, I’m in the red. I’ve got a fever.
“I don’t want to be sick,” I say to Jess, then groan.
“I know, but at least you’ve got me here to take care of you. Unfortunately, you probably got it from Eden. She had a fever last week. Sorry, babe.”
I just nod. “Uh huh. What can I take?”
“What hurts?”
“My head, my neck, my back. But I think the neck and back are from sleeping on the bench outside last night, and–”
“WAIT, why the fuck were you sleeping on the bench last night?!” Jess practically screams at me.
“It’s a long story. I’ll tell you all about it once sights, sounds, and vibrations stop making me want to puke.” I can see Jess simmering with quiet rage.
“Fine, but you will tell me later.” She points a menacing, no-bullshit finger in my direction and I nod. Words hurt.
“I’ll be back with fluids, medicine, and food. You don’t get the medicine until you eat, though.”
“Yes, ma’am,” I say as Jess marches downstairs. I can hear her yelling at Damian to go to the store for something and both girls making their way up the stairs. Caroline and Elodie stop once they get to my doorway though.
“You have a fever?” Caroline asks.
“I do. I don’t want to give it to you, otherwise I’d ask for a hug.” I make a sad face.
“Jess is having dad run out for some stuff. Want anything special? I’m gonna go with him.” Elodie asks cheerfully.
“I would kill for some rainbow sherbet.” I swallow and realize my throat hurts like a mother. Fuck, I hope it’s not strep.
“Done! Love you, Mom. Feel better!” Elodie chirps out, then bounces away and down the stairs.
“Wh-what can you do to feel better when you’re pregnant?” Caroline asks. I can hear the worry in her voice.
“The usual stuff. I’ll be fine. Promise. It hurts to talk, though. Wanna come put something on the TV and hang out in here with me?” Caroline just nods and walks over to the loveseat at the foot of the bed and turns on the TV while I shut my eyes and wait for Jess to be back with food and meds. My respite doesn’t last long when my phone pings.
“Do you need me to get it for you?” Caroline asks, half out of her seat. I motion for her to sit down, then grab my phone.
Matthias: When you wake up, we need to talk. I’m sorry.
Britain: Okay. I’m sick. Hurts to talk. Head is pounding. Is it okay if we talk later?
Matthias: Yes, and let me know if you need anything, okay? Feel better.
I drop the phone back on to the nightstand and wait for Florence Nightingale to come force feed me.
“Knock, knock. Is it okay if I come in?” It’s not even noon when Silas pops his head through my bedroom door. Matthias probably called him.
“Yep,” I croak out, then struggle to sit up. “I’m guessing this isn’t a social call.” I look over to see his medical duffle in hand.
“I mean, if you want it to be, it can,” he says jovially.
“I feel like death and talking makes me want to cry, so no.”
He laughs at me. “Okay, let me just take some vitals and then I’ll check out your throat.” Silas takes my temp, my blood pressure and pulse, then asks me to breathe while he listens. I’m a little embarrassed; I’m not even wearing underwear underneath my sweatshirt, but at the same time, it’s Silas. And he literally watches women take a shit during delivery. I feel like nothing could phase him. He slips the end of the stethoscope up my back, giving me chills.
The feeling triggers a memory from my dream the night before. I had the chills, and someone was comforting me and it felt so nice. I sigh. Not real, though.
“Alright, you clearly have a fever. Otherwise, blood pressure and pulse are good, lungs sound clear. Let’s look at your throat. Say ahh.” Silas shines a light into the back of my throat as I sit there open-mouthed. “Yikes. It looks angry back there. Good thing I swiped a strep test from the office next door,” he says with a devilish grin. Of course, Silas’ version of mischief is stealing a strep test. I laugh inwardly. Such a good boy.
I go to ask him who called him to come, but my throat burns, and I’m too tired to care. Silas takes the swab and says he’ll let me know the results in 15 minutes.
“Don’t forget, Brit, lots of fluids, lots of rest, and don’t forget to eat.” Silas arches his eyebrow at me in his sternest way possible. “We’re gonna have words at your next appointment if you’ve lost weight again.” I nod and close my eyes. I know, I know.
True to his word, Silas texts 15 minutes later.
Silas
Strep was positive. I’m going to send the prescription to the Robles Lake Safeway. Do you need me to pick it up for you?
Britain
No, I’ll send Damian, but thank you, Silas. I really appreciate it.
Feel better. I want to see you at my office this Thursday, okay?
I’ll be there with bells on.
Silas taps back a “haha.”
Britain
Can you pick up my antibiotics from the grocery store? Please?
Damian
Yep, I’ll head over now to wait.
Thank you. Also, did you help me to bed last night?
Huh? No. I passed out watching Top Gun in bed at like 9.
Nm. Will you just send Jess or the girls up with the meds once they’re here? And thank you, again.
Will do
It was just a dream. Maybe in my fever-induced stupor, I slept on the opposite side of the bed first, then moved over. I don’t know, I don’t care. I’m just ready for some meds to kick in and kick my ass.