Chapter 8
8
STEPHANIE
She must have read the email from Lance ten different times, looking for hidden meaning, comments, suggestions, innuendo, and coming up with nothing— but yet – she still searched. There had to be something up his sleeve in wanting to talk face-to-face. She wasn’t sure she wanted him to come here, witnessing just how panicked and nervous she was.
Having a baby was a major life change and not something that had been on her radar at all. Her one-bedroom apartment would quickly become too tiny. She had thought about working on getting an associate's degree so she could have a chance to earn more money or take a better position, only to find that they wanted more experience and more college than what she could offer – even if she went back to night school .
How would that work anyhow? What would that be like to be seven or eight months pregnant and taking classes? What would it look like a year from now with a baby on her hip?
Only to get another email.
Welcome to Target Baby Registry, Mrs. Cavanaugh!
“What in the…?”
Her voice trailed off as she clicked on it and stared in shock. There on the registry page was a package of diapers, a package of baby wipes, a baby onesie that looked like a sailor, and a dressing gown that had a tiny little star on it that said ‘Mommy’s shining star.’
Stephanie put her hand over her mouth, staring at the screen that blurred before her eyes as a tear splashed onto her phone. Had Lance created a registry for her, for them? Was he implying that he knew already what she wanted to talk about? How did you deal with someone who inherently knew how to get under your skin?
She wanted to be angry, but in truth, Lance scared her. He terrified her in a way she never expected because he could reach her so easily – and she was such a fool when it came to him. He smiled at her, and she dropped all her guards. He crooked a finger, and she came running. He opened a registry, and she was practically melting at his feet.
“Pathetic,” she whispered tearfully, trying to hold on to some semblance of a backbone. “Maybe he shouldn’t visit just so you have at least one iota of strength within you – and you should tell him that,” she continued, staring at the weeping, hormonal woman who was staring back at her. Angrily, she took another bite of celery dipped in a small cup of blue cheese dressing, chasing it with a Flaming Dorito chip and sighing in a mixture of delight and disgust.
She hated celery, blue cheese, and Doritos, but apparently, the baby loved the combination. Her once passionate love of ranch dressing on everything – wings, pizza, french fries – was now one of disgust. You just cannot vomit up something, and it taste normal at the next meal.
Her morning sickness was limited to evenings, strangely enough. She was fine all day long until about seven in the evening when she finally started to slow down. It was like her body said, ‘ oh yeah, we’ve got time to yak up our innards now… SO HERE WE GOOOO! ’ – and she would hug the toilet for an hour before it eased up.
“Hang onto that frustration and fear,” she whispered encouragingly as she typed. “He ditched you the next morning and never looked you up. He’s not going to stick around and is going to do the bare minimum from Mayport. You’re a single – married, yet single – and a mother. Let’s just face the facts, dummy.”
Lance,
Obviously, you know why I reached out. Thank you for starting the registry. It was thoughtful. I guess I need the password so I can add to it eventually. I’m not asking you for anything, I just thought you should know. I’ve got this handled.
“I soooo do not have this handled,” she muttered, still typing.
And I thought I would share my information again since I haven’t heard from you except for the registry email notification. I’m not sure visiting in person is necessary. In fact, you stay there. We can communicate like this.
You’re busy.
I’m busy.
You have your life. I have mine. I believe you put it succinctly when you said as you were leaving that morning, ‘You’re you. I’m me.’
You were right.
I’ll update you in a few months on how the baby is doing.
All the best,
Stephanie
She clicked ‘send’ on the email – and threw her phone into the passenger seat cushion before grabbing another stalk of celery. Biting into it angrily, she chewed with a tearful vengeance, trying not to start blubbering again as she sat there in the parking lot under a tree in the shade, enjoying the warm breeze.
Cursing angrily as a tear rolled down her cheek, she grabbed a handful of Doritos, cramming them into her mouth, before scooping up a blob of blue cheese dressing and crunching down on everything in an abhorrent show of table manners, chewing and crying.
What am I gonna do?
A week later, she was walking up to her apartment door, when she saw the Amazon package on the front porch. She was in between paychecks, so that wasn’t her package. Picking it up, she glanced at the address so she could drop it on her neighbor’s porch and hesitated.
It was addressed to her.
Confused, she tucked the box under her arm and got out her keys, unlocking the door quickly. Maybe this was something from a while ago that she forgot was on back-order? Yanking open the kitchen junk drawer, she grabbed her box knife and grimaced. That thing always scared her, but it was ten times better than the cut she’d inflicted upon herself a few years ago opening a box and mistakenly sliding her palm across the cardboard. Who knew a cardboard cut hurt sooo much more than a simple paper cut?
Opening the package, she paused.
This wasn’t a back-ordered item.
It was gift wrapped.
“Noooo,” she mumbled under her breath as she withdrew the bag and hesitated. A slip of paper fell onto the floor, and she wasn’t sure if she should look at it first – or open the bag tied neatly with a bow.
She opted for the bag.
Pulling on the bow, she unfastened it and held her breath as she opened the bag slightly only to hesitate for a moment in sheer confusion as she withdrew a container branded with a logo that claimed it was a ‘Healthy Coffee Alternative’ – made with mushrooms.
… And gagged.
“Oh yuck,” she grimaced, turning it away from her eyes quickly. That sure wasn’t what she was expecting, and had no clue as to who sent the gag gift to her. Pulling out the next item, she saw it was prenatal gummies and started to get a slightly uneasy feeling. The next item was a tiny book labeled simply as ‘Mocktails,’ followed by a thick baby book that matched the one nearby on the couch.
Stooping down, she picked up the Amazon gift note and sighed.
I was looking around online, and coffee is supposed to be bad for the baby, so I thought this might help?
~ Lance
He was researching pregnancy and baby things?
Obviously, he sent this to her before getting her email, which only made her feel worse. Sighing again, she put the container on the counter warily, making sure the bright pink and blue mushrooms were turned away from her.
Opening the fridge, she grabbed a package of sliced watermelon and a bowl of leftover chicken casserole, unbuttoning her pants and kicking off her shoes. She was exhausted, hungry, emotionally worn out, and just wanted to shove food in her face, put her feet up, cuddle in a blankie, and watch television until she fell asleep and did just that.
Four days later, Stephanie was ignoring Natalie and Lila’s whispered plans for the next girl’s getaway. She wasn’t going no matter what they said because she was still dealing with the last one. Finishing up the deposit, she faltered slightly at the sound of her cell phone going off. She had gotten a text message and forgot to put it on silent.
“My apologies,” she whispered quickly as she slid the deposit slip across the counter to the woman. “Thank you for coming in. ”
Two seconds later, as the woman turned to leave, Stephanie dropped down and yanked her phone out of her purse. She put it on silent first and then glanced at the screen.
Did you get your package?
I can’t do this right now.
Are you ignoring me?
No. I don’t think that is possible because you won’t go away. You are doing everything but calling me, and frankly, it’s making me upset.
Good. You understand.
Understand what? That you’re annoying?
That I’m not going away. We’re having a baby, so we need to talk.
Are you pregnant?
We are.
Again – are YOU pregnant? Hmm?
I’M AT WORK
You are pregnant with MY CHILD
AKA ‘We’re pregnant’ because WEEEEEE ARE MARRIED
Don’t cop at attitude with me unless you’re naked…
Then you can say whatever you want because I’ll be focusing on anything BUT your words .
Clicking ‘Call’ she ducked down behind her desk and hissed into the phone the second she heard it pick up. “I’m at work, and we’re not doing this via text, Lance!”
“Fine. See you in two hours.”
… And hung up on her.
“What?” she blurted out and lifted – only to knock herself on the back of her head hard on the counter above her. As she stood gingerly, dropping her phone back into her purse, she winced as Natalie and Lila walked over.
“Are you okay?”
“Oh my gosh, sweetie… that sounded like it hurt.”
“It did,” Stephanie admitted, grimacing. The duo looked at each other, smiling, and eyed her. “What?”
“So, are you coming with us?”
“Where?”
“Weren’t you listening?”
“No. I was working, just like you two should be doing.”
“That baby is making you bitter…”
“Thanks a lot.”
“You’re welcome… a lot.”
“Ladies, relax – and yes, you are slightly bitter when you aren’t getting all snivel-ly. Yes, it’s a word. This is Kentucky, so don’t gimme that look. If ‘burgoo’ is a word then snivel-ly is a word, too, Miss Dictionary.”
“Nashville.”
“What about Nashville?”
“There’s going to be line dancing in the street during a block party, and we snagged a hotel room. Wanna go shake your ‘thang’ with a hot cowboy?”
“I already did that with a sailor, and it makes me bitter, remember?”
“Welp, guess what? You sure can’t get any more pregnant than you already are. ”
“Nope – you are actually safe to ‘knock boots’ for the next six months or so.”
“Oh my gosh, do you even hear yourselves?” Stephanie gaped in shock, staring at them in horror. “I’m pregnant – and married .”
“Wood,” Natalie said simply, picking up one of Stephanie’s business cards and holding it up in front of her face pointedly. “It still has your last name on it.”
“Yeah - It doesn’t say Carlton,” Lila added, chiming in and nodding.
“ Cavanaugh ,” Stephanie corrected bluntly and hesitated, looking at them with an uncanny awareness. They wanted her to go so she could watch their purses, hold a table, or drive. She was pregnant, so she sure wasn’t going to be drinking anything. Sleeping with someone was out of the question – because she wasn’t even sleeping with her husband currently if he was actually still her husband. The unsigned marriage license was still on the visor of her car.
Plus, she needed to decipher that bombshell he’d fired in her direction - Fine. See you in two hours. Was he flying here? Why hadn’t he warned her – or was that his poor excuse of a warning?
“I’m not going to Nashville – and I hope you have a good time,” she said simply, trying to keep the frustration and hurt out of her voice. What kind of friends did she have if they were encouraging her to ‘run away, get drunk, and sleep around’… when she was pregnant and married? Were these the people that were supposed to support her and have her back?
The only one that’s done that is Lance – and you know it.
That little voice in her head was awfully quiet and lonely in the darkness of her mind, yet spoke up searching for the truth that couldn’t be argued against. Her friends had barely congratulated her, whereas the man she’d tried to ignore was actually trying in the sweetest ways possible. Hearing the bell at the front door of the bank chime, she glanced up at the clock before turning.
“We’re… closed?”
Her voice stammered as the statement turned into a question at the sight before her. Natalie and Lila were arguing about which of their boyfriends had sent them flowers, with a delivery man standing there, waiting. He was holding a bouquet of yellow roses and white daisies in a bright golden vase.
“I’m looking for Stephanie Cavanaugh?”
“Awww… Steffi, it’s for you.”
“Aren’t yellow roses or daisies a bad thing? Don’t they mean funerals, or did I miss something? Dude, are those supposed to be red? Doesn’t red mean love?”
And Stephanie swallowed, a lump choking out any and all coherent thoughts in her mind as she stared in disbelief at the sight before her. No man had ever thought enough to send her flowers, even the rare few that she had dated in the past. She slowly raised a hand of acknowledgment, not trusting her voice.
“Gotcha,” the driver said simply, handing her a clipboard as he set down the golden vase and turned it slightly. There, before her, the vase wasn’t just any plain shape; but a ceramic egg with a baby chick on the side. “Can you initial on the ‘X’ for me, and then I’m out of here, ladies.”
“Are you heading down to Nashville, handsome?” Lena crooned, as the blood roared in Stephanie’s ears.
This was from Lance… again.
“I’ll see you both tomorrow,” she began numbly, grabbing her purse and clocking out, before plucking the sweet vase off the counter. That was going home with her, and now she had a theme for the baby’s room. He sent her a baby chick, so maybe she would look for little farm animals?
She wasn’t sticking around to listen to her ‘friends’ persuade the delivery driver to join them in Nashville. No, she was going home with her flowers and had two hours to think before whatever happened next.