30. October 5th
Angie
Tiny kicks from inside wake me up the next morning and I’m greeted by a cat that’s not mine. “Good morning, George,” I mutter, staring at Cora’s gray cat as she sits on the floor watching me like a psycho. “What? Didn’t feel like joining us last night? You seem like someone who’d enjoy a good fem-rage.”
We stayed up until our pregnant hips got too sore to sway and our breath ran out. Last night was exactly what I needed. It doesn’t mean I’m ready to face him though. This time away needs to be spent reevaluating our dynamics and how I’m supposed to move on from him.
A soft knock has me looking to the door where Cora slips in wearing a matching white pajama set and carrying a tray. “Morning,” she sings sweetly. “Want some breakfast?”
“Of course,” I smile, but when I shift my round body to sit up, I feel the urge to pee like a racehorse. “I’ll be right back.” Cora chuckles knowingly, and when I return, she has the tray sitting on my bed.
Sitting cross-legged on the bed in my borrowed mumu, I look at the tray. Fresh fruit and tea, but then I see the two things I’ve been having every morning for weeks now. “You have a craving for cottage cheese and mustard too?” I ask her. Before she answers, I add with a pinched brow, “Wait, is this carrot and turmeric juice? I love this.”
“Um,” she hesitates. “Actually, Rafael dropped them off on our porch this morning. Along with a ton of homemade food, your Tums, pregnancy pillow, and a small weekender bag.”
My head falls into my hands and I groan. “How am I supposed to fall out of love with him when he does shit like this?”
“I don’t know,” she says solemnly.
“I think I need to move out, Cora.” She sighs and waits for me to continue. “As much as it pains me, as much as I know it’s going to be harder as a mother of newborn twins, I don’t see how else I’m supposed to get over him.”
“Have you considered, oh, I don’t know, talking to him about the possibility of being together?”
“You and I both know where he stands.”
“No, babe. That was with other people. They’re not you.”
Her statement hits me harder than I expect it to. Maybe she’s right. I know I have to talk to him, and I will. I want to. But this something I can’t bring myself to fathom. Can Rafael change? Does he want to? Based on the way he looked when I finally confessed my love to him, he’s never even considered me as more than a friend. As more than a teenage crush.
“Good morning, ladies,” Marco says, peeking into the room and holding my bag Rafael apparently dropped off. He sets it down and leans against the door frame. “Sweetheart,” he says to Cora. “Are you ready for your prenatal massage?”
Her shoulders bunch up in excitement. “Yes, please.”
This lucky woman gets to be married to a massage therapist. I envy her.
“Angie, would you like one after Cora’s done?”
“Yes please!”
“Okay. You’re up first, my love,” he smiles, then heads down the hall to his home massage room.
“We’ll talk after?” Cora asks, squeezing my hand.
“Yeah. I’ll enjoy my breakfast. Go ahead.”
After she leaves, I open my weekender bag and immediately am surprised to find my mom’s journal on top as well as my Kindle.
Of course he would do something nice like this. Ugh.
Taking both, I sit on the bed again and crack open mom’s words, hoping to find solace in them.
4/18
Today my sweet girl, you had a poop so big you scared yourself. So while I finished folding laundry, Dada changed your diaper. You were so upset, screaming and crying. But I listened from the other room as he sang the silliest little song to you. And that was it. You stopped crying and listened to his awful singing voice while I fell deeper in love with him.
He’s wonderful with you, Angela. Serendipity brought you to our lives, but I know it was for a reason. He was made to be your father, I just know it. I know it like I know everything about you.
You’re almost two months old and I can’t believe it. It’s been both the hardest and most joyful time. Time has slowed. Our days and nights are the same. But you remain our bright light.
Never dull your shine, baby girl.
Love,
Mama
4/19
You smiled today, my sweet girl! Your first real smile, and of course it was because of your father. Apparently him blowing tiny raspberry kisses on your belly is the funniest thing.
We were obsessed with watching you. I don’t think I understood or experienced true joy until that moment. Sure, I’ve been happy, in love, and excited before… But until that first smile of yours, I can’t remember a time I felt that level of profound emotion.
You’re incredible.
Also, please stop scratching my breasts when you nurse. I love you, but that hurts.
Love,
Mama
4/20
Two months old and the doctor confirmed our suspicions today: you are perfect. You’re extra perfect because you slept for seven hours straight at night, and then took a three hour nap in the afternoon. Well, we took a three hour nap in the afternoon, so thanks for that. Mama needed it.
You’ve been eating so well lately, and it looks like your father and I have a routine down. At night, if you wake up, he changes your diaper and brings you to me and I feed you, then he takes you back and rocks you to sleep.
I don’t know what I would do without him, Angela.
Love,
Mama
4/30
You rolled over today my strong girl! It took us by surprise but we stopped everything we were doing to watch you. I was so happy your father was home from work to catch it. He was the one who alerted me. “She’s going to do it, Zo!” he hollered. It was like watching the finale of a TV show or a tied game being battled to a nail-biting finish.
And we saw it. We watched you take your first roll from tummy to back like the champion you are.
I’m so proud of you, my sweet girl.
Love,
Your cheerleader, Mama.
I read dozens more journal entries over the next hour as Cora got her massage. All of them are similar and yet unique. My first this, my first that. More gushing about my dad and how tired but happy she is.
Her words ruminate as I lay on the massage table and wait for Marco to enter the room. I’ve had several with him over the last six months or so and that man is talented. What’s even better is this table having a cutout for my belly so I can lay face down. What a luxury that is these days.
At my request, Cora sits in the chair in the corner of the tranquil room as Marco starts to dig his fingers into my stressed back.
“Maybe moving out isn’t the right thing,” I tell her while staring at the floor with my head in the padded cradle.
“Why’s that?” she asks.
“I was just reading my mom’s journal, and I’m afraid if we live apart, both of us are going to miss out on those special first moments, you know?” What I don’t voice is how painful it would be to miss out on those firsts. How painful it would be to witness those firsts and know Raf isn’t there to see them, too.
If we can just get back to the way things were before I got pregnant. Before the arrangement. Before the confessions.
How can I erase mine? How can I forget his?
“So, what does that mean for you and Raf?” Marco asks, pushing his thumbs into my neck.
“It means I need to set clear boundaries. Maybe in a more rational and less emotional way than what happened last night,” I mutter. At that, the twins start kickboxing, making me giggle. “Or maybe not. These two seem to like the theatrics.”
“Speaking of theatrics,” Cora says. “Jay’s mom, Kathleen, showed me the invite list to our combined baby shower, and it’s huge, Ang. She rented out a country club for this.”
“Does she know what kind of buffoons rugby players are? That seems far too nice for the likes of us.”
“She’s going hog-wild,” Marco adds. “No expense is too high.”
“I think she’s making up for the fact that we got secretly married,” Cora says.
“Well, I’m not stopping her,” I say.
Marco chuckles, gliding his broad hands down to my lower back. “I can’t wait to see what kind of event our mother-in-law and your brothers put together.”