22. Court
22
COURT
W ho knew cargo capris could be kinda hot?
Lucy twirls in a peachy-melon pair with a clingy white top that the sales lady has assured her will stretch and then revert to its previous shape with washing.
After seeing her in nothing but flowy dresses and an oversized T-shirt, watching her roll down the waistband of the cargos and tuck in the tight shirt is unexpectedly sexy. The heathery-textured top emphasizes the womanly shape of her breasts and belly.
When she asks me, “What do you think?” I’m unexpectedly tongue tied.
She frowns and crosses her hands over her stomach. “It’s too much, isn’t it? I should stick to dresses.”
I clear my throat. “No, no. It’s a great look. You’re showing off that baby.”
She turns back to the mirror. “It’s so comfortable. I’ve been awfully tired of dresses.”
“Get every color,” I tell her.
The sales assistant holds up a pink and green camouflage pattern.
“Except that one,” I add.
Lucy giggles. “I don’t think that camo will hide anyone anywhere.”
“It’s meant to be seen,” the woman says but switches it out for a traditional khaki pair.
“That’s better,” Lucy says. “But only two. The ones I’m wearing and those.”
“We have a minimum spend, you know,” I tell her, although really, we don’t.
She turns in front of the mirror. “You’re terribly generous.”
It’s been a good morning. I woke up feeling different. Like, tired of her suffering. Crap family. Hard life. Knocked up.
I want to fix everything.
She seems so happy.
Her happiness feels good.
“Try on some more,” I tell her. “I want to see you in those short shorts. I seem to remember those thighs.”
She leans over to smack my shoulder. “Court!”
The sales woman smiles. “I predict a lot more babies where that one came from!” Then she hustles off to pull the shorts.
Lucy sits beside me on the bench. “That’s an interesting thing for her to say. Do you think we’re acting like a couple?”
“I think I’m acting like a sugar daddy.”
She smacks me again. “Like I would ever have one of those!” She fingers the various pockets down her legs. “I had to give up most of my clothes when I moved into the yurt. There isn’t a lot of space, and I only had two trunks that sealed tightly enough to keep the bugs out.”
This makes me grimace. “Everything you own is in the yurt?”
“It is. I stored some things at April and Summer’s place, but then they both left.”
“Does your yurt lock? Is someone stealing everything you own right now?”
She shrugs. “It’s made of canvas. There’s no point in locking it even if I could. You can slit the side. I don’t have anything valuable. No electronics or jewelry.”
“Is the yurt hidden?”
“Totally. It’s in the foothills on private property.” She laughs. “I have more to worry from raccoons and termites.”
I have so many questions about how she stores food and where she showers, but the woman returns with several colors of shorts. “These the ones?”
“Looks good,” I say and help Lucy up with a boost to her waist. “Let me know if you get tired. We can always rest before we go.”
“I can sleep in the car!” she says.
“Where you two headed?” the woman asks.
“The Farm Expo.” Lucy takes one pair of shorts and heads into the changing room.
The woman tilts her head. “Where’s that?”
“Upstate,” I say. “They show animals and have vendors and booths.”
“Sounds fun.” She hangs the extra colors of the shorts on the rack. “What else should I look for?”
“Comfortable things. I think the pregnancy is going to get harder before it’s done.”
The woman nods. “She didn’t want regular maternity clothes?”
“She’s so close to the end. She’s particular about companies and fabrics.”
“She’s in the right place.”
Lucy comes out in the shorts, showing miles of leg. “I can’t button these either, but they tuck nicely. They’ll be good transition shorts after the baby comes.”
“Turn around,” I tell her.
She blushes but makes a circle. The shorts cup her ass just above the start of those thighs I can’t stop staring at. Now I’m picturing her in them but topless.
Cool your jets, Court.
“They look good,” I say.
She tries to peer over her shoulder to see the back of them in the mirror. “I’ll have to take your word for it.”
We try on sneakers until she finds a pair that makes her cry out with pleasure. “They feel like clouds!” She speed-walks around the store. “My feet will never hurt again!”
I wonder how much she has endured lately. The belly pains. One pair of worn-out shoes.
If I have anything to say about it, she’ll have everything.
We make one more pass through the store, grabbing socks, underwear, more T-shirts, and another dress like the one I got her, only pale pink.
“Last night, I dreamed the baby was a girl,” she says as we head to the counter.
“Despite the string test?”
“It’s just a dream.”
“Not nearly as reliable as a string test.” I shake my head.
The woman rings us up. “My mama was big into that black magic witchy stuff. She says if your pupils dilate when you look in a mirror, it’s a boy.”
“Really?” Lucy’s gaze flicks toward a sunglass display with a mirror.
I chuckle. “Go on. Try it.” I’d prefer she be away from the register at totaling time, anyway. I don’t want her to feel like she’s not worth the amount, and she will. She always does.
I wonder when was the last time someone spoiled her?
Probably not since she lost her grandmother. That woman lavished her with time and love and teaching. Those are the best expenditures. I knew it once, too.
I shake that off.
While Lucy peers into the sunglass mirror, I quickly pass the woman a credit card.
“How dilated are we talking?” Lucy calls.
“Beats me!” the woman calls back.
Lucy takes out her phone. “I’m googling it.”
I tuck my card back in my wallet. “I’d trust black magic over Google these days.”
“Same.” The woman passes me three large bags. “Have fun with the farmers.”
We take our time strolling to the apartment building. Lucy holds my arm so she can walk with her face upturned to the morning light, her eyes closed.
There aren’t many people downtown on a Saturday morning, mostly dog walkers from the nearby high rises. But they spot her belly, and all my bags, and smile at us. We must be the picture of expectant couple bliss.
I try putting that role on for a minute. Lucy is my wife. Our firstborn is about to arrive. We’ve been in love for ages. This is our neighborhood, our life.
To be honest, it doesn’t feel too bad.