12. Kendall #2
“And I guess we can tell my mom before she heads out for her cruise.” Another reason I’m spending Christmas with James, though no one had to twist my arm.
My mom is heading off to a Mexican cruise a few days before Christmas.
She told me right around the time James’s mom asked for the final Christmas dinner headcount.
Our holiday plans fell right into place. I just hope everything else follows.
“I’m going to be in Boston that week,” he explains, reminding me of his end-of-year work trip. “Unless you want to tell her on your own.”
I shake my head. It’s not like we’d be having the conversation in person. He would just be holding my hand while I tell her over the phone. But thinking about dropping this bomb on her without James by my side brings on a fresh wave of anxiety.
“Then we’ll tell her when she gets back,” he assures. “New Year’s.”
“We really know how to celebrate the holidays, huh?”
James grins at me, a proud look of triumph stamped on his face. He might as well stand there with his hands braced on his hips and the wind blowing his hair back. “So now can we buy the crib?”
I sigh. “James, honey, where are we even going to put it?”
He looks puzzled. My words have caused his brain to grow jumbled. He actually scratches his head as he considers my question.
“We don’t even know where we’re going to bring the baby home,” I clarify when he remains silent. “Are we going to keep it at my place? Or yours?”
“We haven’t decided that yet, have we?” he admits.
It’s notable—and something I’m quite surprised about—that we haven’t talked about these things.
All the logistics and little details that further establish our relationship.
Would we even be here if it weren’t for this accidental pregnancy? Maybe not.
I shake my head with a sympathetic smile. “No, we haven’t.”
James’s phone trills just then, and it cuts into our sudden revelation. He reaches into his pocket and answers it immediately.
“Hey, Mom,” he says, his eyes still on me. “Yeah. We’re out doing some Christmas shopping.”
I hear jumbled words in the background, his mom sounding a little panicked and acute.
He walks out the door to take his call, whispering a quick “I’ll be right back,” and my eyes take in the crib.
I picture it in my bedroom, most likely in the corner where my dresser now sits.
I’d have to do some rearranging, probably a thorough cleaning to make room for everything else that’ll come with the baby.
A stroller, high chair, changing table. So many things.
Maybe we should consider a bigger place. An even bigger commitment.
I feel dizzy. Just a few months ago, it was just me.
I just had to worry about myself. And suddenly, it’s not just me.
It’s James and our baby and this new life I never expected or even asked for.
All things I now can’t live without. And it scares the shit out of me.
Because what if, after all my efforts to make the right choices, it all crashes and burns?
The bell to the store trills again, and I see James urgently walk toward me.
“Is everything okay?”
“I have to go to my mom’s house,” he tells me, his lips forming a straight line. “Something happened with the water heater, and my dad needs my help.”
“Oh, okay.”
He places a quick kiss on my temple. “I’m sorry.”
“No,” I answer, running a hand down his arm. “It’s okay. Don’t worry about it.”
“I can drop you off first.”
“Are you sure? I can just go with you.”
“Yeah, no, I’ll drop you off. I’m sure my dad needs help getting a new water heater to the house and installing it. You’re just going to be bored waiting around for me.”
I agree to go back to my apartment and wait for him.
We don’t get to finish our conversation, and I wonder if he’s relieved by our interruption.
I don’t want to say it was intentional, but he doesn’t bring it up on our short drive, and I’m too nervous to do it myself.
Instead, he takes me back home where I’m left to mull over this realization that James and I really don’t have a grasp on our future.
We’re getting caught up in cute shoes and stuffed animals instead.
I’m falling into this snare of giddy feelings without even thinking about the consequences. I feel so stupid.
We can’t move in together. We barely met over the past summer.
I have a can of soup in my pantry older than our relationship.
A tube of sunblock in my medicine cabinet I’m more familiar with.
A fucking roll of Scotch Magic Tape I know more about sitting in a junk drawer in my kitchen.
How the hell am I supposed to share a space with a man I’ve known for less time than the numerous inanimate objects in my apartment?
I’m spending some time prepping for the week ahead in my pajamas with a rerun of Law & Order: Special Victims Unit on when I hear a light knock on my door.
With the way everything was tossed into the air, my thoughts have turned all murky and cluttered.
I don’t even realize it’s dark outside, and when I trudge to my door and open it in a distracted haze, I’m surprised to see James on the other side.
“We’ll move in together.”
“What?” I scoff in shock.
“We’ll move in together,” he repeats. “I can move here, or we can find a place with more room if that’s what you want.”
He didn’t forget about it. He came here to hash it out, to get us out of this weird limbo stage that’s been leaving me confused and scared. Because this isn’t some temporary predicament he’s planning to wait his way out of. We’re going to figure things out.
“James, we’ve known each other for like…
five, six months. We can’t move in together.
” I look at him, and I start searching for facial cues.
Any hint or inkling that he’s saying these things just to say them.
Because, somewhere in his decent, virtuous mind, he thinks this is what he’s supposed to do, regardless of what he wants.
I don’t want that. I don’t think either of us wants that.
“Why not? We’re going to have a baby. Shouldn’t we bring it home to a place that’s ours?”
“I don’t think that’s a reason to move in together.” I walk away from the door and he follows me inside.
“Of course it is.”
“We aren’t ready to move in together,” I argue. “Couples who have been together for years aren’t ready to move in together. What makes you think we are?”
“We aren’t other couples.”
I start to grasp at straws. “What if you leave the toilet seat up, and I can’t stand it? Or I don’t recap the toothpaste after I use it, and it pisses you off? Or you hate that I have like, five alarms when I wake up in the morning.”
“You don’t have five alarms to wake you up in the morning,” he points out. Of course, I forgot he’s already privy to my usual morning rituals, including the fact that I like to play music while getting ready.
“Okay, but what if you found something else equally annoying,” I say, still scrounging for reasons, excuses for things to stay the way they are with absolutely no grounds or basis. All because this level of change scares me.
“Then I’ll deal with it,” he states, as if it’s just that simple. He leans down to kiss me. It’s so simple, the way he reassures me, smothering all the mean, hostile doubt that treads deep in my gut. “We’ll tell everyone at Christmas, and I’ll move in here.”
I can’t say there’s a clear-cut approach to my decision-making process.
I don’t have a pros and cons list. There’s no Word document on my laptop with all the research I’ve done on the horrors of cohabitation that could deter me from moving in with my boyfriend.
All I have is my heart and my gut. Both of which are a lot weaker than I thought they were.
Especially when love is thrown into the mix.
I finally fold. “It’s that easy, huh?”
He nods. “It is.”
“You don’t think you’ll change your mind?”
“No.” He doesn’t need to explain why. Not when that single-syllable word is so arrant and confident.
“Okay,” I say, my voice wobbly.
He pulls me into his arms, tugging me closer with his hands running reassuring strokes along my spine. I sink into his chest when he asks, “Can I get a goldfish?”
“You want to get a goldfish?” I ask, grinning into his shoulder.
“Yeah,” he murmurs against my hair. “And one of those little two-gallon aquariums with colorful pebbles.”
“Did Tommy not let you get one?”
“He has a surprisingly strict no pets policy.”
“Of course, you can get a goldfish,” I tell him. I laugh and tilt my face up to meet his lips.
“I love you.”
Maybe I worried for nothing. “I love you, too.”