15. Kendall
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Kendall
THEN
“You have your ID?”
James pats his back pocket. “Yeah.”
“And your laptop?”
Another pat against his backpack. “Yeah.”
My hazard lights are flashing, creating a sense of urgency I’d prefer to ignore. People are hopping in and out of cars while airport personnel repeatedly remind them this isn’t a parking spot and their cars will be towed if left unattended.
“Call me when you land.”
“I will.”
“And your mom too,” I add. “She’s going to worry if you don’t.”
He rests his backpack on top of his carry-on, freeing his hands. He scoops me into his arms and we prolong this goodbye for a few more minutes, pushy staff and all.
“Are you going to be at home all day?” he asks.
“Sylvia’s coming over. We’re going to wrap presents and order some pizza.”
We’re making small talk, sharing details to stretch our time to its thinnest point. He releases me, keeping his hands around my waist, when he swoops down to his knees. He’s at eye level with my belly button, his jeans rubbing against the dirty pavement.
“You be good while I’m gone, okay?” he says to my stomach. “Don’t give your mom too much trouble.”
I laugh. “I don’t know how much trouble a growing fetus can give me from inside my womb, but sure.”
He nuzzles his face against my sweater, humming a happy sigh with his cheek pressed against me. “Fine then. Just make sure to stay safe in there.”
His request is met with a harsh thump. I feel it in my belly where it ripples across my skin.
“Was that?”
“I think that was a kick.”
James’s hands encase my stomach, covering every free inch so he can feel even the slightest of movements from inside. Sure enough, we feel another playful tap, this time, it hits James’s palm.
James scrambles to his feet, his hands still on my stomach. “Holy shit. I can’t believe it.”
Another round of bumps flutter across my belly, and this time, it feels more angry and urgent.
“Whoa,” I exclaim. “Easy there, kid.”
“I can’t believe I just felt our baby,” James whispers.
“I guess it’s good you took your sweet time leaving.”
He grins, holding my face in his hands. “I love you.”
“I love you, too.”
“No, I mean, I love you.”
“Do you think I don’t mean it?” I ask through a laugh. He’s nearly bouncing on his toes, unable to contain his excitement.
“No, no. I just want you to know that I love you,” he explains. He kisses me, placing insistent pecks across my lips. “I don’t want you to say it back or anything. I just want you to know…I love you. And I know this whole pregnancy wasn’t what we planned, but I’m really happy it happened.”
All the anxiety and fears crawling under the surface disappears.
Poof. It vanishes into thin air, making me wonder what the hell I was worried about this whole time.
We love each other. We make each other happy.
We fit so perfectly. Like the pieces of a jigsaw puzzle, held together by the curves of our shape.
So who cares if we’ve only been together for a few months?
Or that this pregnancy happened so quickly?
We’re going to do this. And we’re going to be so fucking happy doing it.
My eyes grow blurry as I sniffle back a fresh wave of tears. “I really love you, too.”
He kisses me again, deep and passionate. The ache of being so happy causes a sob to whimper from my lips.
“Okay, you have to go,” I say, tearing myself away from him. I wipe at my face, wearing a stupid smile from how ridiculously happy I am.
“I’ll call you when I land.” One last kiss. One last caress against my belly.
“Bye.”
He watches me the whole time. As he walks through the sliding glass doors. As he walks away into the lengthy security check line. As he throws one last wave and disappears into the crowd.
“Can I get the tape, please?”
I glide the tape across the floor, letting it skitter and hit Sylvia’s foot. She reaches for it without taking her eyes off the slip of gift wrap barely containing the toy car she’s meticulously wrapping. I finish off a roll, left with the cardboard innards, and I boink it against Sylvia’s knee.
“Hey!” she exclaims.
I grin at her. “Sorry. Had to do it. I don’t make the rules.”
Another boink, this time on her other knee, and the spring-like echoey thwack has me laughing with glee. I have my guard down and she uses the moment to jerk my makeshift weapon out of my hand. I cross my arms over my face when she rears her arm back, cardboard brand in hand.
“You can’t hit a pregnant woman!” I cry, the weight of my claim lost in my laughter.
“I can if she started it.” A hollow thunk bounces off the top of my head and Sylvia follows her attack with a set of uncontrollable giggles. “I came here to wrap gifts and all I’ve done is make some kind of paper burlap sack for this toy truck.”
She holds up the crinkled paper and the gift falls right through the mesh of tape.
“I give up.”
“Pizza break?” I offer, nodding at the pizza box sitting on my kitchen counter.
“Pizza break,” she concurs. She stands from her spot on the floor and struts to the kitchen.
I follow, though it takes me about half a second slower.
The pep in my step has slowed with my gradually budding stomach, and getting from the floor to a full standing position requires some effort. And a long-winded groan.
Sylvia hands me a slice thrown on a paper napkin. “Thanks.”
She chews loudly, smacking her lips as she licks off a sliver of grease at the corner of her mouth.
“Did James already make it to Boston?”
I shrug, glancing at the clock on the stove. “I don’t think yet, but probably soon. He said he should land around five our time.”
A gentle knock interrupts our meal, and I roughly wipe my mouth before tossing the hard crust back in the box with the hard thunk and opening the door.
“I have wine,” Kyle sing-songs, his fist wrapped around the neck of a bottle of Riesling. He procures another bottle from behind his back with his other hand. “And a sparkling cider.”
I take the bottle from him. “Thank you.”
“I didn’t forget about you,” he comments, tapping his finger against the bottle. He brisks past me, beelining for the last few slices of pizza.
Sylvia squeals, her reaction to a bottle of alcohol obviously more welcomed by her than me. Kyle works quickly, the cork coming off with a theatrical pop. I open my bottle of non-alcoholic bubbly, not bothering to transfer a serving to a glass like Kyle and Sylvia have done.
“Are we celebrating something?” I ask as we clink our drinks.
“Nope,” Kyle answers.
“How about surviving your first trimester at Joss Elementary?” Sylvia suggests. She tips her glass back, raising her brows in my direction.
“And coming out knocked up at the end of it.”
I smack the back of my hand to Kyle’s chest. When I told him about my “happy little accident” as he likes to call it, there were a few wry jokes involved.
Mainly to lighten the situation, but also repose my state of mind.
I’d wound myself into a twisted state of fear, and it was a welcomed reprieve.
“To Kendall,” both Sylvia and Kyle say in unison.
I hum some variation of their felicitations as I inhale my drink in large gulps.
“So how far along are we in the gift wrap department?”
Sylvia waves her drink in Kyle’s direction, a swish of it sloshing to the floor. “I’ve given up,” she claims. She bends down and wipes up her mess. “I’m leaving it to the elves.”
I laugh at her dramatics, reaching for another slice.
I knew I’d miss James while he’s away, having to spend my night alone in my apartment after growing so used to him.
I got used to the noises he makes when he wakes up.
The smell of his coffee brewing in the small four-cup coffee maker he brought over, a stark contrast to the chai I occasionally brew at home.
The way his footsteps tread through the house when he’s on the phone, pacing from the bedroom to the living room and back.
How he leaves his socks at the end of the couch but always remembers to put them away before going to bed with me.
How, even though we don’t make any spoken arrangements, I know he’s going to be in my bed most nights.
And in just a few weeks, it’ll officially be our bed. Our apartment, our home.
“Oof,” I grunt, gripping my stomach. A little interjection jabbing at my ribcage causes a low wince to hiss from my gritted teeth. “This kid is really learning to use its legs.”
“You felt a kick?”
I nod, smiling at Sylvia. “We actually felt it before James left. Right at the departure terminal.”
I hadn’t felt a kick since I was with James, and I was getting a little worried the baby was less active than earlier in the day. Another kick and I run a protective hand over my belly. Which still somehow manages to look like a result of a large meal.
“I want to feel.” Kyle lunges for my midsection, his own hand joining mine.
“Me too.”
The three of us stand there, running our hands over my stomach like we’re reading a crystal ball, when a ripple of kicks touches each of our hands. A wave from the inside greeting each connection to the outside world.
“Whoa, that’s weird.”
“Does it hurt?”
“No,” I answer through a laugh. “It kind of…tickles.”
“Seriously. That’s so weird,” Kyle repeats.
We stay like that for another minute before we finish our dinner and move onto the gifts. Kyle uses his modest gift wrapping skills to get Sylvia through the night, and by the end of it, we’re stacking mine around the tiny four-foot tree in my living room.
“What did you get James?”
“Wouldn’t you like to know,” I tease, jabbing my finger into Sylvia’s shoulder.
“It better not be something gross,” Sylvia comments
“Like matching couples Christmas sweaters,” Kyle jokes.
I’m about to disclose the big secret double wrapped in Santa prints sitting right below a metallic gold globe ornament when I feel something trickle down my leg. I look down at my gray sweatpants—borrowed from James—only to see a trail of a dark stain steeping into the normally light material.
“Guys,” I whisper. I’m about to tell them I just peed myself, unsure if it’s some unventured pregnancy symptom I’m experiencing for the first time, when a shooting pain hits my lower back.
I gasp, stumbling to the arm of the couch with one hand outstretched to catch my fall and the other bracing my hip.
“Kendall!”