24. Chapter 23
Chapter 23
Marshall
June 23 — 25 Weeks 1 Day, Acorn Squash
C oming home after another hitch away on the rig is a weight off my shoulders.
For the past 20ish days, Elsie and I have kept in touch as much as we can, and each time she says goodbye, I can see the shimmer of tears in her eyes.
It’s becoming harder and harder to be away from her and the baby, but I can’t just abandon my career and not provide for my family.
As much as I know I’m in love with Elsie, I still can’t bring myself to admit that to her. The fear of not hearing those three words back is too intense to take the risk.
But a part of me also fears the risk I’m taking by not admitting how I truly feel about her .
However, being back home takes those fears away, even temporarily.
“Honey! I’m home!” I yell as I come through the front door of the apartment.
“Living room.” I hear Elsie call back.
Dropping my bags in the entryway, I stride into the open living room to find a very clearly pregnant Elsie lounging on the couch.
Elsie is lounging in sweatpants and a loose t-shirt that drapes over her belly, which has finally popped with her pregnancy. Her fiery hair hangs in soft curls around her face and highlights the pink glow she has on her skin.
“Fuck, you’re beautiful,” I say under my breath.
“Oh, shut up.” She snaps. “Pregnancy sucks, and I feel awful.”
“You’re showing now,” I say, admiring her rounded stomach as I walk around the edge of the couch to kneel before her.
Immediately, I’m on my knees before her with my hands outstretched.
“May I?” I ask, gesturing to her stomach.
“Sure.” She says softly.
Reaching out, I place my hands on her and find her body has changed.
What were once soft curves in her tummy have now hardened into a proper baby bump. The stretch marks I adore on her skin have multiplied, with new reddish-purple lines appearing among those that have already settled into their light white stripes on her already pale skin.
I give myself a moment to just let my hands roam her body, and when I finally look up at her, there’s a softness on her face that I’ve yet to see there before .
“You’re incredible,” I say softly, leaning in to give her a kiss on the lips. “Fucking incredible.”
“I’m really not.” She tries to say.
“No. Don’t do that.” I reach over to cup her face and lean in close. “You’re doing one of the hardest things nature asks of your body. You’re creating life. Don’t discredit yourself. I know it’s hard, but you’re fucking amazing for doing it.”
She frowns. “Has my body really changed that much? I barely notice anymore.”
“I guess time away makes me notice the changes more. But, yeah, you’re at 25 weeks, and you’ve definitely popped.”
“You still keep track?” She asks, her eyes lighting up with emotion. “When you’re away, I mean.”
“Of course. I keep track with the app on my phone and listen to our baby’s heartbeat every night before I go to bed.” I admit with a shrug.
A silence fills the space between us, and I let her study me without looking away.
I need her to see how much this means to me. How much she means to me.
“Ugh.” She groans alongside her grumbling stomach. “I fucking hate being pregnant. I’m always hungry or tired or gassy or some other gross bodily function. I want to be done with this.”
Standing, I take her by the hands and help her up from the couch until I’m looking down at her where she stands.
“You’re almost halfway there. You’ve got this.” I say, leaning down to give her a kiss on the forehead. “Now. What do you want for dinner?”
“Whatever is fine.” She says warmly.
“You sure?” I ask .
“Yeah.”
I head over to the kitchen and start looking through the fridge and pantry for ingredients to make dinner.
Locating everything I need, I start making street tacos for dinner.
Elsie sits on her usual island stool and watches as I get into the rhythm of cooking.
When dinner is ready, I bring everything over to the dining room table and lay out our feast. Elsie follows with plates and napkins as we both settle in at the table to eat in comfortable silence.
After both of us demolish several tacos, Elsie breaks the silence.
“I have a doctor’s appointment tomorrow if you want to come,” she says. “We can find out the gender if you want.”
“Wasn’t that appointment supposed to happen at your 20-week check-up?” I ask.
“Yeah, but it was right before you were about to leave again, and I just couldn’t mentally handle it.”
“Why didn’t you tell me? I would have gone with you.” I say.
“I know. I know...” She pauses in a way I don’t like. “I keep thinking that you’re going to change your mind.”
“Elsie...”
“No. Hear me out.” She sighs. “You’re 29. You have so much life ahead of you, and I just keep feeling like I’ve trapped you in this.”
I sit quietly as she composes herself, my heart thundering in my chest, and I desperately want to interrupt to reassure her.
“I keep worrying that you’re just being a good sport about this and doing the right thing, kind of thing. I worry you don’t actually want this. That you don’t...” She trails off, heavy words left unsaid. “If you don’t want this, I’d let you go, you know. ”
My jaw clenches at her words. “Stop that. Stop giving me an out and expecting me to leave. I’m not going anywhere.” I reach for her hand and lace our fingers together. “Never.”
June 24— 25 Weeks 2 Days, Acorn Squash
T he soft eggshell on the walls of Elsie’s doctor’s office, combined with the oversized canvas prints of parents smiling with their kids, has nerves balling in my chest. The moment we entered the building, all of the ease and comfort of our morning routine together fled, and now I’m just anxious.
Every time I accompany her to an appointment, this dread takes over. Thoughts that something could be wrong with my precious ciruela azucarada swirl through my head like a hurricane gaining speed. My Sugar Plum is everything, including their mother. None of them are founded in reality, but the anxiety is still there.
I blame the creepy smiling faces on the walls.
When the nurse calls Elsie back, we both go through the regular routines of her appointments before being left alone in the patient room.
Thankfully, this one just has framed pictures of babies on the walls.
“Stop with the foot tapping, Marshall. It’s going to be fine,” Elsie says calmly.
“How do you know?” I ask, rising from the chair where I sat to pace the room .
“I just do. Now, sit.” She commands, and I quickly lower myself back into the seat.
Thankfully, it doesn’t take long for the doctor to come by and begin going through the things they need from Elsie, but I stay in my corner, silently panicking all the while.
I think back to my conversation last night with Elsie, how she’s convinced that I’m going to abandon her and our child.
I grew up in a large family with my mamá, papá, and sisters. I know what it is to be surrounded by love. To have the stability that comes with having strong familial relationships. Even after losing my dad, it made our family stronger. We grew closer together. We leaned on each other, just like I want her to do now.
While there is a part of me that’s terrified about the changes that come with having a kid, building a family with Elsie sounds like a dream, not a nightmare.
So much could go wrong between now and when Elsie gives birth. There’s so much more that could happen afterward.
“Marshall?” Elsie’s voice draws me out of my spiral.
“Um. Yeah.” I say, shaking my head.
“Do you want to see the baby?” She asks, with an annoyance in her voice, which tells me this isn’t the first time.
“Of course,” I say, rising to my feet and taking a few steps to her side.
At some point in my panic, the doctor and nurse brought out the ultrasound machine and prepped Elsie for the scan.
Taking Elsie’s hand, more for my comfort than hers, I glance up at the screen where the ultrasound is shown, and my breath stops .
I’ve seen photos before and heard their heartbeat, but nothing compares to the awe of watching your child move around on a screen like this.
My gaze hones in on the minute movements of the baby growing in Elsie’s womb as the sound of the heartbeat, one I’m extremely familiar with echoes around the room.
“That’s our baby girl,” I whisper.
“Marshall. You don’t know that.” Elsie teases back at me before turning to the doctor. “But I think they could tell us if you’re right.”
“Would you like to know for sure?” The doctor asks.
“No. I don’t need to know for sure unless Elsie wants to.” I say, tearing my eyes away from the screen to look back at my daughter’s mother. “I already know what I need to know. She’s ours.”
Elsie gives me a smile that warms my heart, and I look back at the screen where our baby is displayed.
“We’re gonna be parents,” Elsie says, the same awe in her voice that I feel in my marrow.
“We’re gonna be a family,” I whisper.
The rest of the appointment goes by in a blur, and before I know it, Elsie and I are headed to the car to take her back to the office for work, after which I’ll head home.
To our home .
My family’s home.
It’s as though everything in the world around me ceases to exist at that exact moment, and everything goes still and quiet.
Nothing is more important to me than this family I’m building with Elsie.
With that thought, everything becomes clear .
“Marshall. You need to start the car if you expect us to go anywhere.” Elsie says from the passenger seat beside me.
I glance over at her, taking in her soft features and the small smile she has on her lips as she looks at me teasingly.
“I’m quitting my job,” I say, turning on the engine.
Her eyes grow wide. “What?”
“My job. I’m going to quit.” I say, finality in my voice as I back out of our parking spot and head in the direction of Elsie’s office. “You asked me to quit. That’s what I’m doing. I’ll email my boss tonight.”
“Okay.” She responds tentatively.
“I want to stay home and care for you and the baby,” I explain, glancing over at her as I drive. “I have worked my ass off, and I have more than enough saved up to help support us.”
“That’s really not what I’m worried about here, Marshall,” Elsie says, blank-faced when I glance over.
“Then what worries do you have?”
“Look, I know I asked you to quit your job. You know I don’t like you going out to the middle of the Gulf for weeks at a time like you do or being gone so much. But it is your job, and it’s part of who you are. I am trying to come to terms with it. This feels sudden. Surely, you don’t intend just to become a stay-at-home dad.”
I continue to drive without response.
“Oh, my goddess. You do. You really do.” She says, mouth agape. “Marshall!”
“We can talk through the details later, but my mind is made up, Elsie,” I say sternly .
I know she won’t ultimately fight me on it, but she still pouts in the passenger seat for the rest of the trip back to her office, where lunch is waiting for us.
Silence continues through our lunch, and then Oliver knocks at the door.
“Reminder that your meeting about the site tour is in fifteen minutes.” He interrupts, relieving some of the pressure in the room.
“Oh!” Elsie says, finally looking up from her papers and food at her desk. “Pregnancy brain’s a bitch sometimes. Thank you, Oliver.”
“Welcome.” He says, backing out of the room and closing the door behind him.
“What’s this for?” I ask, curious about her work.
“A client we’re courting wants me to go out and do a visit with them on one of their rigs that we’re surveying.” She explains.
“What?” I ask, bewildered.
“Yeah. That’s what we do. Or at least the first step.” She continues going into the science, oblivious to my mounting frustration. “The Gulf of Mexico is known for its rich deposits of crude oil and natural gas. It’s created the perfect environment for coral reefs to thrive.”
With every word, my pulse increases, and my hands grip tightly at the seat beneath me.
“Salt deposits in the Gulf rise up on the ocean floor, which creates pockets of crude oil and natural gas where companies build their offshore rigs.” She explains. “You should know this, Marshall.”
She chuckles, and not even the music of her voice calms me down .
“So, these deposits rise high enough in many cases to create the perfect environment for coral to receive just the right amount of sunlight. Plus, due to the distance from the coastline, they can maintain the perfect temperature that saves the coral in heat waves which bleach many other ecosystems.” Her words start to muddle together in my ears. “We go out and evaluate different rigs to see if we can basically manually start reefs up around these rigs.”
I stay silent, unable to say anything for fear of hurting Elsie with my words.
“Marshall? Are you okay?” She asks, finally looking at me and away from her papers.
“I want you to give up doing site visits,” I say firmly.
“What?” She squeaks.
“You heard me.” I take a deep breath. “You don’t like when I’m out on rigs? Well, I don’t like you being out there anymore. I want you to stop doing site visits for work. Hire someone else to do them. Hell, I’ll do them for you.”
“Marshall.” She starts.
“No. Hear me out, Elsie, please.” I glance over at her, where she sits across from me in her high-backed desk chair. “You and la peque?a ciruela azucarada mean more to me than anything.” The little sugar plum.
“That doesn’t mean I can stop doing my job, Marshall,” Elsie says, her defenses rising.
“I’m not asking you to stop doing your job, Elsie. I’m asking you to hand off doing this one thing. No more travel. That’s all I’m asking.” He pleads. “When you asked me to quit my job, you said it was because you didn’t want our kid sitting on the porch steps waiting for their father to come home. I’m asking the same thing. I don’t want our family to have to worry about you every time you leave on a trip. I don’t want our child to grow up with that fear. And I don’t want to live with it myself.”
Her expression flashes through so many emotions that I can’t keep up with them. I can see her wanting to fight me, and my shoulders don’t relax even when I see the moment when she makes her decision.
“Okay. I’ll see what I can do.” She sighs. “There may be times when I’m unable to get around it, but I’ll do my best.”
I let out a breath of relief. “Thank you.”