Chapter 12 Remy
REMY
“Them again?” Ariel lowers the book she’s reading and peers at me from her bed.
Three days ago, a package was delivered to college with my name on it. It contained the latest iPhone and a note from the Murray twins:
Remy,
This isn’t a peace offering or a trap.
Whenever you’re ready, we’re here. Our numbers are stored on the phone.
Cash and Bash
Ariel, when she saw it, went all gooey-eyed and maternal on me. She said that I should give them a chance, that I should at least talk to them, and hear what they have to say. “You might be pleasantly surprised,” she said. “At least now you know that they believe you.”
But the problem is they didn’t believe me when I was there. They needed time to think about it and plan their reaction to the pregnancy, a luxury that I didn’t get.
“I’d have believed them if the roles were reversed,” I said to Ariel.
“That’s because you’re too trusting.”
Fair point. But still… “I don’t want their pity. I don’t want them to get involved because they have to.”
“What do you want?” Ariel asked.
The answer is: I wanted to be special. I wanted to see it in their eyes that they felt what I felt. I wanted them to want this too, to get over the shock of being a father and promise me that they would make it work.
But more than anything, I didn’t want to have to choose. I wanted the one thing neither of them could give me.
“I want there to only be one of them.”
They waited twenty-four hours before they called me on the new cell phone.
I didn’t answer.
Cash was first to call. Then Bash. Like they were on a tag team, passing the cell between sprints around the track. They left voicemail messages that I didn’t listen to because it felt like a game to them, one that they’re intent on winning.
I place the cell phone upside down on my desk so that I’m not distracted the next time I see one of their names appear on the call screen.
Three days into the new semester, and I don’t recall a thing from any of the lectures I’ve attended.
I barely recall entering the lecture theater or moving between halls.
I’m only convinced that I ate breakfast this morning because Ariel is playing mother hen and feeding me consistently.
“You know you’ll have to speak to them eventually,” Ariel says.
“Before or after the babies are born?”
I’m flippant because I’m not ready to have this conversation. My head is buried in the sand where I can pretend that this isn’t happening to me, and I’m not willing to come back out.
Yet.
My pants are already starting to feel a little tight around the waistband despite my erratic appetite.
My breasts will soon be the size of small islands, and I’ll be forced to shop for bras with steel reinforcements to hold them up.
Soon, the babies in my womb will no doubt develop a sleeping pattern that will keep me awake at night and make me want to sleep all day.
But until then, I can act like I’m still me. Remy Jones. A single woman who knows what she wants.
Who am I kidding?
Ariel closes her book and shuffles along to the end of her bed so that I’m within touching distance. “How much of your assignment have you written?”
I glance at the laptop screen. “Five words.”
“And that’s the title, right?”
I suck on my top lip.
“Speak to them, Rem. Hear them out. Then perhaps, we can both get on with our lives.”
Her words hit home. Ariel is invested in this pregnancy because she’s been with me every step of the way. She’ll be my birth partner. My shoulder to cry on when my hormones are all over the place. My best friend. Of course, her life is on hold too while I figure this out, and that isn’t fair.
“Okay. Next time they call, I’ll speak to them.”
Ariel’s smile is wide. “Hallelujah!”
I smile back at her. “If I didn’t know better, I’d think that you were in cahoots with them.”
“Girl, if I were in cahoots with them, you wouldn’t be sitting here right now. You’d be choosing furniture for a swanky penthouse apartment with a spare room for your best friend.”
I switch off my new cell during my morning lecture.
Then I work a four-hour shift at the café in the afternoon.
By the time I finish, I’m shaky with hunger and caffeine withdrawal, and not thinking straight when I power up the cell and hit the green button on the next call.
“Remy?” The voice at the other end sends a shiver straight through me despite the balmy evening heat. “You answered.”
I don’t speak. Pedestrians walk around me, too engrossed in their own lives to pay me any attention or even notice that I’m in their way.
I realize that I didn’t check the Caller ID, and I don’t know if I’m speaking to Cash or Bash.
The excitement I felt at the sound of his voice clashes violently with the reminder that they come as a package.
Two men for the price of one.
“How are you? On second thought, don’t answer that on the phone. I want to see you. I want to speak to you in person, Remy. Where are you? I’ll send a car to pick you up.”
This is Cash.
I don’t know how I know this; it’s a thought that I’ll have to unpack later in the comfort of my bed while Ariel is asleep, but I’m confident that I’m right about this.
“Why?” I might be a little confused right now, but that doesn’t mean I’m going to accept whatever it is he has to say.
“Because I understand that we were assholes, but we’re in this together, Remy.”
How can he have this effect on me through a cell phone? Or are my trembling knees purely down to the sugar crash? I should be stronger than this. I’m pregnant—with twins. I’m going to be a mom next year; I should have the willpower to say no and mean it.
“I’m outside Cakes and Cooks. I just finished work.”
“Stay right there.” Pause. “And, Remy. Thank you.” The call ends with a click.
I’ve never traveled in a chauffeur-driven car before.
The interior is cool. The glass partition separating me from the driver is smokey.
No one on the street glances at the sleek black car, but it feels as if they should.
I can’t explain it but sitting on the back seat of this obviously prestigious vehicle, I feel set apart from the rest of the world.
I’m tempted to text Ariel and tell her where I am, but I don’t. Seems I can show restraint with everyone else apart from the Murray twins. And look where that has gotten me.
They’re both waiting for me in Bash’s penthouse apartment at the top of the Rinse.
Coffee is brewing. They’re both wearing pants and button-down shirts, no ties or suit jackets.
They both look out of place, waiting for me in the living room as if they discussed the best way to greet me and chose keeping it casual as the best option.
I catch the nervous-as-hell vibes the instant I step out of the elevator.
I don’t want to gloat but… they deserve to be nervous. How many twins forget to introduce themselves before they get naked and tell someone that they can’t let them walk out of their lives? It should be standard procedure, right?
I make a mental note to my future self to make this a rule for my twins. Never assume that other folks can tell you apart.
“You came.” Longer hair—this is Cash.
“You sent a car.”
He smiles, and fuck, it travels straight to my core. The weakness is all in me, I realize. Perhaps I should’ve brought Ariel with me after all, but it’s too late now.
“We wanted to make sure you got here okay.” Still Cash.
His brother is watching me like I’m an apparition who can walk through walls and appear unexpectedly at any time to spook him.
I’m wearing black pants and a short-sleeved plum-colored shirt, standard café uniform, but the apartment is starting to feel like a sauna.
The city skyline outside the windows is hazy with a mist that I didn’t see descending from inside the chauffeur-driven car.
The coffee aroma is making me feel nauseous.
The room spins. Voices fade in and out of focus like they’re speaking through a faulty mic. When I open my eyes, I’m lying on the couch with a cushion under my head, and Cash is kneeling beside me, holding my hand.
I think it’s Cash.
“Thank fuck.” He glances at his brother, whose face appears beside him. “You’re awake. You fainted. We’ve called the paramedics.”
“No.” I try to sit up. The world is still tilted at a strange angle, and I rest my head back against the cushion in case I slide over the edge and disappear. “I don’t need paramedics.”
“We need to get you checked out.” Bash speaks now. “Make sure that you and the babies are okay.”
Babies?
It takes a couple of beats for me to remember that I’m pregnant, and my heart starts pumping blood around my body along with a healthy dose of guilt.
“I’m fine.” I dig deep and produce a small smile. “Just hungry.”
They both blink at me like I’m speaking a foreign language.
Their eyelashes are thick and dark; women would pay regular money to have lashes like these.
The green of their eyes reminds me of the woods near my childhood home on a summer’s day when the sun is glinting through the treetops. And their smile…
“You’re hungry,” Cash repeats to make sure he heard me correctly.
“When did you last eat?” Bash asks.
“This morning.”
“She needs food.” Cash doesn’t take his eyes off me. “And coffee.”
“No coffee. Caffeine isn’t good for the babies.”
“No coffee.” I can imagine Cash making mental notes, storing them up for future reference. “Water?”
“Scrambled eggs?” Bash adds.
“Can you add cheese?” The room is gradually settling back into the right shape, but I’m enjoying the panic in their eyes too much to sit up.
“Is that a craving?” Cash asks.
“Pickles are a craving.” Bash kneels closer. “Do you want pickles with your scrambled eggs? I can send down for some?”
“You can send down for pickles?”