Epilogue
WINONA
“You’re really going to make me do this?” Mitchell asked. Around us, the music thudded as loud as the raucous crowd. The man before me had to be seven feet tall, with long mutton chops, ruddy red cheeks, and a massive dead fish in both hands.
“It’s tradition!” I laughed.
“What about you?”
“You come from away, Mitch, not me.”
Come from away—the catchall term for anyone not born and raised on the island of Newfoundland. “Listen,” he said. “You haven’t lived here in—“
I threw Mitchell a look so searing he clapped his hand on his mouth.
He was tipsy already—a commonplace occurrence down here on a Saturday night.
He’d gone off when a seagull had walked in front of us between the last bar and this one.
“There are a million different seabirds here, Winona! It’s glorious! ”
Tomorrow I’d sneak off to buy him those binoculars.
Luckily, I’d been drinking soda water—I was still feeling like a bundle of nerves, and wanted my head on straight. Plus, it looked like I’d be the one getting us home tonight.
The crowd cheered as Mitch took a piece of bologna the pretty barman’s assistant handed him. He swallowed it down with a swig of beer. “Revolting!”
“Next is the best part,” I said.
The barman, whose name was Peeved Pete, held up the cod. Mitchell closed my eyes as the fish came toward him, but Pete winked at me and pulled it back. I swooped in and pressed my lips against Mitchell.
He actually hollered.
The crowd went wild.
“Sorry,” I said. “Can’t resist that pucker.”
“Me next!” A guy with a strong Newfoundland accent called from the crowd.
Mitchell gave a growl, swinging around, but I pressed my hand to his cheek. “Don’t worry, b’y,” I whispered in his ear. “I’ll get him with the fish if he tries anything.”
“All right, on with it!” Peeved Pete shouted. The music intensified, and this time Mitchell kept his eyes open while Pete angled the fish toward him. The giant man pressed the fish’s cold, fishy lips against Mitchell’s.
The crowd hooted as he gagged, and took the glass of screech proffered by the assistant, who winked at him.
“Watch out or you’ll get the fish now,” I warned her, grinning.
Mitchell downed the fiery glass of alcohol—then looked as if he might retch it right back up. “Here,” I said, handing him my soda water. “I’ve barely had a drink since you pulled me out of the pool. Now I’m drinking gasoline?”
“You’re a real Newfoundlander now,” Peeved Pete sang as he clapped Mitchell on the back.
“I kissed a fish for you,” Mitchell said, a little tipsy.
“You did.” I squeezed his hand. “And I’ll never do it for you.”
He gaped, then reached forward and swung my legs up with surprising agility. He carried me right out of the bar as the crowd cheered on.
It was a short walk back down George Street to the hotel, but when we passed a convenience store, I told him to wait outside while I ran in. Nerves tinkling like the bells on the door, I headed for the pharmacy.
“Gum?” Mitchell asked when I came back out. “Or more fish?”
“I’ll tell you tomorrow,” I said, hooking my arm through his.
Mitchell looked at me gravely. “Winona, I have to tell you something. I don’t think I can make love to you tonight.” He waved his arm back in the direction where we came. “The screech!”
I laughed. “I know, baby.” Then I used my shoulder to get him out of the cold and into the hotel lobby. “We can do that tomorrow.”
It took all my effort to get him stripped down and into bed, and though all I wanted to do was the same so I could curl up next to him, I went to the bathroom to wash up, taking the little baggie from the store with me.
It was when I was talking to Mama that the thought had first occurred to me.
That Mitchell and I had spent that time together, and that I still hadn’t gotten my period after that.
I recalled missing a pill that first day I’d been with him, and I couldn’t remember if I’d caught up the next day or the one after.
That whole time had been a blur.
But now, apparently, it was a clear line. Two of them, actually.
My mind reeled. Somehow, I washed up, bringing the test with me. I got into bed feeling like the world was spinning, even though miraculously, I hadn’t had a drink tonight.
I left the test on the bedside table and climbed into bed, my heart thumping wildly.
I was going to have a baby.
We were going to have a baby. Worry began to spin out around me, and I caught my breath as I lay down.
Mitchell groaned, already half asleep. He pulled me into his arms, arranging my head so it was on his chest.
“There,” he mumbled. “Perfect.”
I relaxed slightly, just for now.
He was right, it was perfect.
I was sure he was asleep when he spoke again. “Winona,” he mumbled, his hand pawing at my head.
“Yes,” I laughed, despite myself.
“I know it’s too early,” he said. “I know I’m not supposed to say it, but I’m fuckin’ in love with you.”
I grinned. “Is that right?”
“Mm-hmm. I just wanted to remind you. I also need to tell you I want everything with you. I want to live with you and read in bed and go on vacations. I want to make babies with you Winona, so many babies.”
The relief I didn’t know I’d been hoping for coursed through me like water.
We hadn’t talked about kids—of course we hadn’t.
But all through raising my brothers, I’d always wanted babies of my own, and I wanted them with him.
And now I knew he did too. Even if he wasn’t actually supposed to tell me that.
“Well, maybe that’ll happen,” I said. Sooner than later.
“Deal,” he said.
I bit down a laugh.
“G’night Winona,” Mitchell yawned, and just like that his hand went limp.
“Mitchell?” I whispered after a moment. I rose up on his shoulder, peering at his face. His beard was soft and short. Maybe I’d ask him to keep growing it. I kind of liked the beastly version of him.
“Mitch,” I whispered one more time.
He answered with a snore.
“I love you too.”
Thank you for reading Plunged!