Chapter 21
A lex
January
Taking what Dom and Kate said to heart, I begin making a conscious effort to get to know Natalie more. Hell, we’re going to be raising a child together. I should know more about my child’s mother.
But, knowing how my body wants to get to know Natalie, I decide to begin with texts and phone calls.
Me: Hi.
Natalie: Uh, hi?
Me: How was your day?
Natalie: What is this, Alex?
Me: Just seeing how your day was.
Natalie: Fine. Long. Tiring.
Me: Ben told me you ran out of the room once. Is everything okay?
Natalie: Ah. Now I see why you’re texting.
Me: I can be checking on you AND seeing how your day was, Nat.
Natalie: Fine. Your child kept kicking my bladder, and I had to run to the bathroom.
Me: MY kid, huh.
Natalie: Yup. Definitely your kid when he is being all troublesome.
Me: He? Do you know something I don’t?
Natalie: Gut instinct. I don’t know. I promise I won’t keep you from another appointment.
Me: Thanks. I know things are weird between us, but I’ll always support you in whatever you need.
Natalie: Right now I need to sleep for fifteen hours and eat my weight in ice cream. Well, maybe not my weight. Half of my weight.
Me: Noted. Other than needing sleep, how are you feeling?
Natalie: Okay. I guess I can’t complain. Ari told me horror stories about pregnancy, and so far none of those have panned out, so I’m counting my blessings.
Me: Never believe anything my baby sister says. She embellishes heavily.
Natalie: Oh? So that story about you putting a live toad in her bed was embellished?
Me: Okay, so a lot of what she says is embellished. The toad story is true. I didn’t think she’d be excited and decide to keep the damn thing as a pet, though.
Natalie: And that the toad got out of the room somehow, but you and Dom convinced her she had killed it in her sleep?
Me: In my defense, that was almost solely Dom. Although Luca put the little ‘murderer’ notes all over her room.
Natalie: Is sibling bullying a genetic trait? Should I worry about Abbie and Ben?
Me: I doubt it. Abbie is way too excited about having a baby to boss around, and Ben probably won’t worry about that kind of thing.
Natalie: He’ll be too invested in his own world of science experiments and hypotheses about the way everything works.
Me: Very true.
Natalie: I love that about him. I can see the cogs moving in his mind as he works out a problem.
Me: My mom said I was like that at his age, too.
Natalie: When I met Ben, he told me he wants to be a pilot in the Air Force when he grows up.
Me: Yeah. He’s felt that way for a few years. He wants to go to the United States Air Force Academy after high school.
Natalie: And you’re okay with that?
Me: Of course. Why wouldn’t I be?
Natalie: It’s a scary world, and I can only assume it must be nerve-racking to think about your son joining the military.
Me: It is. But I’d never hold back any of my kids from what they want to do based on MY worries. I’ll support them as best I can.
Natalie: That’s pretty awesome of you, Alex. There are quite a few parents who are the exact opposite.
Me: Not me. I’ll support my kids. All of them, including ours.
Natalie: I like that.
Me: It’s supposed to snow tonight. Do you need anything?
Natalie: No.
Natalie: Interesting that I’ve found a teenager shoveling the sidewalk when it snowed last week. Will the teenager be shoveling tomorrow as well?
Me: I don’t know what you’re talking about.
Me: But yes.
Natalie: Alex!
Me: You said you didn’t want me to do it, but you never said I couldn’t hire someone else to do it.
Natalie: It’s not going to hurt me.
Me: Maybe, but maybe not. Did you know that people over a certain age aren’t supposed to shovel snow, because if you’re at a certain angle, the force could give you an instant heart attack?
Natalie: Really?
Me: Yep.
Natalie: For pregnant women? Or women in their thirties?
Me: Well, no, the info I saw was about people over the age of forty.
Natalie: So by asking you not to shovel, I was actually saving YOUR life.
Me: I’m not forty yet, Sunflower.
Natalie: I’m rounding up.
Me: Nice.
Natalie: There was more gray in your beard the last time I saw you. You get a walker yet?
Me: No, a cane looks better with my uniform.
Natalie: You should bedazzle it!
Me: What do you think I’m doing right now?
Natalie: I will give you everything in my bank account if you can send me a selfie right now.
Me: You know, my phone camera is acting up.
Natalie: Uh-huh.
Me: Next time, I’ll definitely take a pic.
Natalie: You plan on bedazzling more canes soon?
Me: It’s the talk of the entire department. Everyone wants a bedazzled police cane now.
Natalie: You’ll be the talk of the entire state if that’s true.
Me: Tourism is about to be booming!
Natalie: Good to know lol
Me: Ben told me you’ve started a unit on the human body, and now he wants to know specifics on how babies are made, as well as how they’re born.
Natalie: I’m glad he asked you, because he brought it up in front of the class, and I will admit I choked. Told him to have you talk to him, then he could come back and report what he’d learned. I totally forgot to text you and warn you. Whoops.
Me: Whoops?
Natalie: In my defense, I came home and accidentally took a three-hour nap.
Me: Growing a baby is exhausting.
Natalie: You have no idea.
Me: How specific am I supposed to get? If he’s reporting back to the class, obviously I can’t tell him about the ole C in the V, right?
Natalie: Just when I think you’ve forgotten about that, we’re here again.
Me: Never gonna forget, Sunflower. Honestly, I’m surprised that verbiage didn’t end up on that gossip website.
Natalie: Well, it did. Very briefly. Then I threatened to sue, and the article mysteriously disappeared.
Me: Seriously?
Natalie: Yeah. Quoting private conversations? Not cool. I said it was illegal, but I’m honestly not sure if it is, but apparently that was enough, because they took my threat to heart and deleted the article. I figured they’d just remove the parts about our conversation, but they removed the entire article.
Me: How did I never know about this?
Natalie: I completely forgot. I started my job, and then started getting so exhausted that I’d pretty much eat dinner and fall asleep. I can’t believe it took me as long as it did to realize I was pregnant.
Me: I assume when a woman is really busy, it’s easy to ignore little symptoms.
Natalie: I guess. It’s definitely not easy. Never realized how tired I’d be. Maybe if I was pregnant a decade ago, I’d have been better able to handle it.
Me: I don’t know. I remember Sara telling me she was really tired with Abbie, but not with Ben.
Natalie: And you were deployed for both?
Me: For part of each. Fortunately I was home for both births. I had colleagues who were deployed for births, and I can’t imagine how hard that must have been.
Natalie: I’m sure it was equally hard for you to be gone, no matter the time.
Me: Yeah, but it could be worse.
Natalie: It’s not a competition for who has it worse, Alex. Your worst is still your worst, regardless of someone else’s life. Don’t undervalue what you experienced, and how you felt.
Me: That’s true. Sara basically said the same thing. But I always felt guilty, like I was dropping the ball.
Natalie: It sounds like guilt is a four-letter word in your world.
Me: Yeah, it is.
Natalie: I need to tell you something.
Me: What’s wrong? Do you want to call me?
Natalie: Nothings wrong with me or the baby. Well, at least the baby is fine. And I’d rather do this over text.
My mind whirls, thinking about what she could want to tell me. Immediately I think she’s dating someone, and a wave of fury catapults over me so fast I forget to breathe. I have absolutely no right to be angry if she is dating anyone. I have no claim over her. And I honestly don’t understand why that was my first thought, or why I reacted to it with such animosity.
Because you’re falling for her.
“No I’m not.”
Yes, you are.
“Stop it,” I snap.
Not until you admit I’m right.
“You never argued with me like this before,” I mutter.
Maybe I should have.
“Why didn’t you?”
Because it was easier.
“Bullshit.” Sara popping into my head right now is pissing me off.
Natalie: I yelled at Ben today. Like actually yelled at him. And I feel awful. He cried, which made me cry, and then I couldn’t get a hold of myself, and the teacher across the hall had to call the admin team to come relieve me. Ben wouldn’t talk to me for the rest of the day. I tried apologizing a dozen times, but he wouldn’t listen. I don’t know what to do. I’ve never felt so awful about treating a student like this.
Me: You yelled at him? About what?
Natalie: Our math unit is something Ben clearly knows very well, because he kept interrupting me to tell me how I wasn’t teaching it correctly. I was trying to show the class there are different ways to estimate numbers, especially when fractions are involved. When he interrupted for the fifth or sixth time, I blew up at him.
Me: Define blew up.
Natalie: I sort of blacked out a little, so I’m not entirely sure of everything I said. But I know I told him since he’s so smart, he should tell the principal that I need to be fired and he can take my place.
Me: Jesus, Natalie. That’s a little extreme.
Natalie: I’m aware of that. I don’t know what came over me! One minute I was patiently telling him to sit back down, and the next, I’m in his face.
Me: In his face?
Natalie: Not IN his face. I meant that I just yelled at him. I didn’t get in his face. At least I don’t think I did? But I feel awful. Should I come over and apologize?
Me: I don’t think that’s necessary. Ben needs to know that you’re the teacher, and he has to respect your authority in the classroom.
Natalie: I assumed you’d be madder than this.
Me: I’m not happy about it, but I can see it from both sides.
Natalie: Well, I got reprimanded by admin, and it was reported to the school board. I guess the teacher across the hall also heard me yelling. They understand I’m pregnant and hormonal, but the fact that I’m connected to Ben in more ways than just his teacher makes it a murky area.
Me: I’m glad you were reprimanded.
Natalie: What?
Me: You can’t just go around yelling at kids, Natalie. Pregnant or not. Teachers could have gotten away with it when we were in fourth grade, but not today.
Me: Honestly, you should be counting your lucky stars it was Ben you blew up on, because some parents in your classroom wouldn’t stop until you were fired. You’re lucky it’s me you’re dealing with.
Natalie: This is the Alex I assumed would show up tonight.
Me: What? The parent Alex? The voice of reason Alex? I’m not going to coddle you when you’ve made a mistake like this. I appreciate you reaching out to explain, and I’ll talk to Ben about interrupting you. But if you blow up at my kid again, our history won’t be a factor in how I respond.
Natalie: Noted.
“Dad?” A small voice asks quietly from behind where I’m sitting at the island in my kitchen. I turn to see Ben, a worried expression on his face.
“What’s up, bud?” I ask, knowing full well he’s going to talk to me about the situation with Natalie.
“Can we stop at the store on the way to school in the morning?” Ben inquires.
“For what?”
“Well, I made Ms. Jackson cry today. I didn’t mean to, but I want to get her a flower and a card to apologize,” he says solemnly. Red-rimmed eyes tell me he’s been crying in his room, and I immediately pull him into my arms.
“We can, but I also know that she made you cry today,” I tell him gruffly. “And that wasn’t okay either.”
“But if I had just listened to her, she wouldn’t have yelled at me,” Ben cries. “It’s all my fault.”
“You made a bad choice, son. You did. But Ms. Jackson didn’t have to respond the way she did. You’re both to blame.”
“Can we still stop and get some flowers?” he mumbles against my shoulder, making me smile.
“How about you draw her a bouquet of flowers? Real flowers will die, but a picture can last forever. She’ll cherish that so much more.”
His head pops up. “Really? I could even make her a LEGO bouquet, that way it’s a three dimensional object she can enjoy from all sides!”
I chuckle. “Let’s start with the picture, then we’ll move on, okay?”
“You’ll help me?” he asks.
“Of course. I bet Abbie will help with the building part, too.”
“Great idea. I’ll go get her now. ABBIE!” he shouts, right beside my ear, and I wince.
“God, I’m right here,” my sassy almost thirteen-year old says, and when I glance at her, I find her rolling her eyes.
“Dad said you’d help us build some flowers for my teacher. ”
Abbie’s eyes light with fire. “I’m not helping you do a damn thing for that woman.”
“Abigail!” I admonish. “Language!”
“Oh, please,” she scoffs. “That was barely anything. It’s not like I dropped an F-bomb. Besides, I heard what happened with Natalie. She’s lucky I don’t show up there and give her a piece of my mind.”
“It was my fault,” Ben says, defensively. “Well, mostly.”
“You’re a kid, and she’s an adult. Even I know the difference —” Abbie stops talking when the doorbell rings. A malicious grin slowly spreads across her face. “I think I’m about to get my chance.”
“Shit,” I mutter. “Abbie, no. You keep your mouth shut.”
“What?” she says innocently as she stalks toward the front door. “I’m just answering the door for our late night guest.”
“It’s not late night, it’s late evening at best. And you don’t say a word. In fact,” courtesy of longer legs, I get in front of her, stepping between her and the door, “go sit on the couch. You don’t need to answer it. What if it’s not Natalie?”
“We both know it’s her,” Abbie hisses.
“We don’t know that, so go sit on the damn couch.”
“How come you get to say damn, but I don’t?”
“Because I’m a damn adult, now go sit on the damn couch!”
“I can hear you, you know,” Natalie calls from outside.
I point toward the back of the house. “Go. Now.”
I hear her grumble something as she passes her brother, who stands with just his head peeking out from behind a wall. “Do you want to answer the door, or should I? I’m pretty sure she’s here for you.” Even though I fucking told her not to come over tonight, but am I really that surprised that the woman didn’t listen to me?
“You answer it,” Ben says timidly. I unlock the door, opening it with a steeled expression, ready to maintain my composure, but what stands in front of me steals my breath. Her face clear of makeup, hair in a floppy messy bun, Natalie wears a pair of black leggings, and a robe that covers my shirt. My shirt that she never gave back to me. It’s now tighter around her midsection, but still has room to grow. She looks exquisite. Perfect. I fight the urge to pull her into my arms by gripping the doorknob with ridiculous strength.
You’re falling for her.
Admit it.
No.
“Hi,” Natalie says, her voice as quiet as I’ve ever heard it. “I know you said not to come, but I can’t let Ben wait all night to hear me apologize. I know he’ll probably be up all night worrying, thinking it’s his fault. I know him, and he’ll start to convince himself it’s even worse than it is. I can’t let him do that. I just can’t.”
Fuck me.
She described Ben so perfectly. So incredibly smart, gifted, and creative, but with anxiety that manifests itself in situations where he can take a tiny detail and add to it little by little until it’s a massive ball hurtling toward his world at breakneck speed.
“But it is my fault, Ms. Jackson,” Ben says quietly, stepping out from behind the wall. “If I had listened when you said to sit down, you wouldn’t have yelled. Then I wouldn’t have made you cry.”
Natalie sighs, placing her palm against my chest and pushes me out of the way as she walks to Ben, and I close the door. Plopping onto her knees, she grabs Ben’s hands in her own. “It’s not your fault. It’s mine. I’m the teacher. You’re the fourth grader. I’m to blame, Ben. Not you. Okay? This was completely my fault.”
“But I made you cry, and …” he trails off as his lower lip trembles, tears filling his eyes. I hear a sniffle, and find Natalie crying as well.
“I made you cry first. And then that made me cry, because I am heartbroken over seeing you cry,” Natalie says. “You were excited about what we’re learning in math, and I should have been more patient with you. I promise I’ll be better from now on.”
“Did you get in trouble with the principal?” Ben asks, and Natalie nods.
“I did.”
“I’m sorry,” Ben whispers.
“It’s my own fault. I have to accept responsibility for that.”
“I can be sorry you’re in trouble without feeling like it’s my fault. ”
Natalie lets out a breathy laugh. “Yes, you can.”
“I was gonna make you a bouquet of flowers. Well, Abbie and Dad were gonna help.”
Abbie scoffs again. “Forced help.”
“You were going to make me flowers?” Natalie asks, a beautiful smile stretching across her face. “How?”
“Well, at first I asked Dad if we could stop at the store tomorrow morning, but he reminded me that flowers die, and maybe I could draw you a picture.”
Natalie looks up at me, her eyes softening as she nods. “Your dad is correct. A picture could be something I enjoy forever.”
“Yes. Then I thought about making paper flowers, but I knew Dad wouldn’t like the mess of that, so I didn’t bring it up.” He’s not wrong. For as smart as he is, the child has no spatial awareness when it comes to glue.
“That would be pretty messy,” Natalie snickers. I can tell she also knows about Ben’s use of glue.
“Then I thought a three dimensional bouquet of LEGO flowers would be perfect, because you’d be able to see it from every angle of your desk. Abbie is the best builder in our house, which is why I wanted her to help,” Ben says, casting a quick glance at his sister through his thick lashes.
Abbie looks stunned. “Really? I’m the best?”
“You are,” I announce as I walk toward them. “Which is why you’re going to help us build one now.”
I extend a hand to Natalie, who looks equally as stunned. “What are you doing?”
“Helping you up, Sunflower. I thought that was pretty self-explanatory,” I murmur, waiting for her to slip her hand into mine. When she does, a zing of electricity whips up my arm, followed by a lovely feeling of heat. I watch as Natalie’s eyes dilate, and I slide my thumb to graze her wrist, feeling her pulse go wild. I pull her up, just close enough that her vanilla scent hits my nose. “You’re going to stay and build with us.”
“I am?” she says with a chuckle .
“Yes. Then we can both explain to Ben how babies are made.”
“What?” she hisses. “You were supposed to do that already!”
“Well, I didn’t,” I murmur as I turn her toward the kitchen. Bending down so I can speak directly into her ear, I say quietly, “You want to spend the night? We can practice what we’re going to say.”
I’m not surprised when a speechless Natalie doesn’t answer.