Title: mesh
Author: Andrea
Rating: R
Summary. Abby. Carter. And I think it's possible that the 'b' word might come up. Maybe.
Author's Note: Here's another one. I know. But I can't stop. All the endless variations, and I must write about everyone that I think up. This one will be a little different. But not that different … look who's writing it. Big thanks for previewing and/or proofreading to LISA, HEATHER, BETH and SANDY. They mostly liked it, I hope everyone else will too. And major ups to LISA for coming up with the title. Thanks, dude. It's quite clever, as you know. Everyone tell Lisa how clever it is. Oh wait, you don't know the half of it yet … never mind. But anyway … THANKS, LISE!
mesh
mesh: ENMESH, ENTANGLE; to coordinate closely: INTERLOCK; to fit or work together properly: COORDINATE
Chapter 1: New Beginning
"Hi! Hi, baby," I call happily as I walk into the lounge and eagerly cross the room, reaching for the little arms that are already stretched out toward me. "Hey, how are you? I've missed you." My high-pitched voice and big smile win me a smile in return. I scoop the chubby little body into my arms and cuddle it up against my chest. A pudgy little baby arm flails around until the hand finds a purchase on my nose and slips to my lips. I open my mouth and pretend to nibble at the fingers, making growling noises that inspire a fit of giggles.
"I know you probably didn't get any lunch today," Susan says to me, "But could you please refrain from chewing on my baby?"
"Charlie likes it," I tell her in mock defiance. "Don't you, Charlie?" I coo at the baby that I'm bouncing in my arms.
"Of course Charlie likes it. Charlie loves you, and anything you do gets a smile."
"Do you love your Aunt Abby, Charlie? Well, the feeling is mutual. Aunt Abby love you, too. Yes, that's right." And I do. There's something about this baby … maybe it's the cherub face, or the abundance of smiles, or just the fact that this is my best friend's child … but I do love this kid. And I turn into a gushing lunatic every time Charlie shows up. "What are you doing here, anyway?" I coo, shifting the baby onto my hip. "I didn't know it was take your baby to work day."
"Well, it is if your baby's father drops by to say that he forgot that his schedule got changed, and guess what? He's about to hop in a helicopter so Mommy is left holding the bag. Or the baby, I guess. Daddy flaked out on us, didn't he, Charlie?"
"So Chuck just came by and dropped the baby off with you with no warning?"
"Pretty much. Never mind that I'm only halfway through my shift. And oddly enough Charlie's baby-sitter was not just sitting around on a Friday night waiting to see if maybe I was going to need someone to do a little last minute baby-sitting. Stranger still, my father couldn't be persuaded to get off his bar stool and come pick up Charlie. Day care is closed so … if I can just find my address book, we'll keep our fingers crossed that there's someone out there who has no life and is just sitting at home with nothing better to do than baby-sit tonight. Keep your little fingers crossed, munchkin." Susan continues rooting through her bag in an attempt to find her address book while I continue to play with the baby.
"You know," I start, "I'm off in about a half an hour. And since you correctly guessed that lunch was nothing more than a granola bar between traumas, I guess … technically, since I haven't had any breaks today, I could leave right now."
Susan looks up from her search, a strange expression on her face. "Good for you." She returns to her bag, starting to pull things out one at a time.
"I was trying to say that I know someone who fits that description of 'loser with nothing to do on a Friday night.'"
That piques her attention. "Someone who might be willing to baby-sit?"
"Yeah, I think so," I tell her, looking down at Charlie and running my hand over the soft baby curls.
"Who?" She asks eagerly.
"Since your mom's so flustered right now, we're gonna overlook this slight, aren't we Charlie?" I look over at Susan. "Me. I'll watch Charlie."
"You want to baby-sit?"
"Sure. We just got done saying how much I love Charlie, and Charlie loves me. So it'll be fun for me. And it's not like I don't know my way around a baby. Or like I've never watched Charlie before."
"You don't have any plans?"
"Just to sit on Carter's couch.
"Like you do every night."
"Like I do most every night. But not every single night."
"No. Sometimes you have to work. You know, you seem to be spending an awful lot of time on Carter's couch these days."
I just shrug. She's right. But I'm not sure what she wants me to say about it. I finally go with, "Yeah … so?"
"So … I'm just wondering if all you two really do is watch movies and eat pizza."
"Of course not."
"Really?" Her eyes light up, and of course, I realize what she's getting at.
"Sometimes we eat Chinese take-out. And we've been known to play Monopoly."
"Is it really just board games and movies, or is that just what you're telling me?"
"We're friends, Susan. I think you might be familiar with the meaning of the word."
"Sure. You and I are friends. You and Carter are a lot more than that. Or you wouldn't be practically living at his place, spending twenty-three hours a day holding his hand."
She makes it sound so silly. "It's not like that, Susan. He just … he's having a tough time of it, you know that. He's going through a rough patch. And he needs a friend, that's all."
"Come on, Abby. When you're both at work, you're practically joined at the hip. When you're not at work, you're always going over to his place. You're there all the time. Hell, you've got a key to his house."
"I have a key to your house, too. What's your point?"
"You have a key to my place because Chuck manages to lose not only his keys, but also mine, on a monthly basis. Not so you can come and go as you please. Besides, you and I are friends."
"Just like Carter and I."
"Mm-hmm." She manages to pack a lot of skepticism into that sound.
"What's that supposed to mean?"
"Just what I said, Abby. We are friends. You and Carter … you're more like … I don't know …" She hesitates, looking unsure, and then a smile spreads slowly across her face. "Maybe … soul mates."
"Oh, please." I'm sure my voice denotes just how absurd I think that statement is.
"Well, whatever word you like, then. But there's something special between you two. You can't deny it. Not after all you've been through … and the way you guys always just seem to gravitate towards one another no matter what. You know, I saw it as soon as I came back here. The first time I met you, and saw the two of you together, I knew. It was so obvious. It still is. And it always is. Even when you try to deny it. Even when he goes insane and disappears and then comes back here embroiled in what was undoubtedly the stupidest mistake of his life. I don't care how hard he tried to convince us, and himself, how happy he was … he still couldn't manage to stay away from you. And don't give me that 'but that's because we're friends' crap. It's more than that, and you know it."
"Susan …"
"Look, Abby … I don't know what it is that pulled you guys apart in the first place. And I certainly don't know what he was thinking when he left you or when he came back with … with … her and tried to pretend like he was over you. All I know is … that's in the past now. And what you're left with is this … force that keeps you two spinning in each other's orbits all the time. And you don't know how lucky you are to have found that. To have someone like that in your life. We're not all so lucky."
"Hey, you've got Chuck," I remind her.
"Yeah. And what Chuck and I have is … nice. But … it's not what you and Carter have. It's not that once-in-a-lifetime, can't-live-without-you kind of thing. I mean, Chuck and I could probably spend the rest of our lives together and be perfectly …content. But if we went our separate ways tomorrow, that would be okay, too. He's a great guy, he's my baby's father, and I'll always love him because of that … but I'm still not sure that he's the one."
"I'm not sure that there's any such thing as 'the one.'"
"You should be," she says with a chuckle. "You've found him. It's the rest of us that are still looking who should wonder."
"Yeah, but …" I play idly with Charlie's little hand, letting my voice trail off while my thoughts swirl.
"What?"
"Well … if he were really … the one … why didn't it work?" I'm horrified to hear the little catch in my voice, and I swallow quickly to get the lump out of my throat.
"Just because things didn't go smoothly doesn't mean he's not the one. Haven't you ever heard that the course of true love never runs smooth? Maybe it was the right guy, but the wrong time. But now … now that you've both had some time to change and grow … maybe you're both ready. He's free now … you're still free … maybe it was all supposed to happen so that you'd find your way back to each other once you could handle it. And all this friendship now is just leading you to a second chance. Maybe last time was just practice. You have to admit, it'd be a lot easier the second time around. Sweeter, too, according to the infamous 'they.' Whoever 'they' are."
It's all too much for me. Maybe she's right. Maybe she's not. But I can't think about it now. Time to change the subject. "So do you want me to baby-sit or not?"
She rolls her eyes at me. "Of course. As long as it's not gonna be … inconvenient."
"Of course not. My true love and I are just gonna be sitting around staring at the TV so I don't think it'll be a problem to have Charlie join us. And if you'd rather I don't take the baby over there, I can always go to your place. I think Carter can make it on his own for one night."
"I don't care if you go to Carter's. I'm sure Charlie would love to visit Uncle Carter, wouldn't you, sweetie?" she asks, coming over and planting a kiss on the baby's forehead. "And you shouldn't joke about true love," she scolds me.
"Oh my God. You know what? I'm not having this conversation anymore. I'm gonna go hand off my patients and get changed, and then I'll come back and pick up Charlie. Okay, sweetie?" I hand the baby off to Susanbefore going back out into the ER to take care of all of the end-of-shift details. Little things like making sure my patients aren't neglected or forgotten or allowed to slip into some black hole or yawning abyss in my absence. I get changed and go back to the lounge where I find Charlie all ready to go in the carseat, and Susan anxious to give me a tour of the diaper bag.
"Okay, we've got diapers and wipes. Bottles. There should be plenty to get you through the evening. And there's a couple containers of food. Spoons, bibs …"
"Susan …"
"Some extra clothes, a few toys …" She's pulling out each item, as if to make sure I know what they are for. I guess she's afraid I'll try to tie a diaper around the baby's neck instead of a bib.
"Susan! I know what a diaper is, and I know how to use it. So unless there are any special instructions?'
"No, I don't think so."
"What about the bottles? Do you heat them up?"
"Yeah. You can just put them in the microwave. Thirty seconds on fifty percent power."
"Okay," I say, distractedly, busy smiling down at Charlie who has a hold of my hand.
"But be sure to shake it up and test the temperature." She really must think I don't know a damn thing about babies. I give her a look. "Just making sure."
"What about the food?"
"Put it on a spoon and feed it to the baby."
"Thanks for the tip, Mom. Here I was thinking I should spoon it into Charlie's ear. I meant, do you heat it up?"
"Oh. No, room temperature is fine. Unless it's been in the fridge, then nuke it for a few seconds."
"Got it. Ready to go, little one?" I sling the diaper bag over my shoulder and heft the carseat in the other arm.
"You'll be at Carter's, right?"
"Right. So just come pick up the baby … whenever. We'll be there."
"Okay." She pauses for a moment. "Do you know how to work the carseat?" What's to work? The baby's already in it, so I just have to strap it into the car. She's a nervous mom, I remind myself; humor her.
I turn and smile at her. "The seatbelt goes through those two doohickeys, right?"
"Is that the technical term? But yeah, just thread the seatbelt through them. Put it in the backseat. And make sure it's tight. Do you want me to come out and fasten it in for you?"
"Well, I think I can handle it, but if it'll make you feel better …"
"No, no. That's okay. Just come back in if you have any trouble."
"I will."
"And call. If you need anything at all. Or even if you just want to check in." In other words, she wants me to check in.
"Okay."
"And you know you can always come back here if it gets to be too much."
"Susan. I've been around babies before. I'm not twelve and this isn't my first time baby-sitting. And it's not like you've never left Charlie with me before. We'll be fine. I promise. But you can call to check in whenever you want. You can call every five minutes if you don't trust me."
"Of course I trust you. And it's not like you were planning to kidnap Charlie and run off to Canada."
"Damn! Now you've spoiled my plans. Oh well, another day, huh Charlie? Say good-bye to Mommy."
Susan leans down and smiles at the baby strapped into the carseat. "Bye, baby. Bye-bye, little one. Be good for Aunt Abby, okay? Mommy loves you." She kisses the baby's cheek and waves to us as she leaves the lounge, calling over her shoulder, "Remember … call if you need anything, anything at all."
"I will. We'll be fine. Try not to worry." She smiles bravely, but as Charlie and I are heading out, I can see her sneaking glances at us, probably trying to make sure that I don't drop the baby on my way to the car. And surprise, surprise, we get to the car without incident. I get the carseat wrestled into a seatbelt which isn't as easy as it looks, but it isn't so hard that it sends me running back inside for reinforcements, either. The drive goes smoothly with only one short bout of crying … Charlie, not me. And oddly enough the crying stopped as soon as I stopped singing and turned the radio back on. God, everyone's a critic. We pull up in front of Carter's place, and as usual, there's a spot on the street right in front of his house. I'm starting to think of it as my spot and beginning to wonder if he's paying the neighbors to leave it open. Of course, I could always park in the back, but this seems so much more convenient somehow. Especially tonight with Charlie in tow. As I'm gathering up all the baby gear, I begin to wonder if I should have called and given John some warning. Not that I think he'll mind, but … oh well, hopefully, it'll be a nice surprise. He always seems happy to see Charlie so I'm sure he'll enjoy the company. Still … but he never acts as if Susan's baby is an unpleasant reminder, so I'm sure it'll be okay with him. I hope it'll be okay with him.
"Okay, Charlie, here we go," I prattle as I lift a fussing baby from the carseat, hoping that being held will make Charlie happy. It seems to work, so I head for the front steps. But weighed down with the baby in one arm and the diaper bag and my own bag over my shoulder, I find it next to impossible to open the door. "I guess we'll ring the bell, huh? I hope Uncle John hears it. I hope Uncle John's ready for this," I say smiling at the little face that smiles back. I reach out and ring the bell.
I hear the doorbell ring in spite of the fact that my head is buried in the refrigerator, surveying the left over take-out. I glance at the clock, wondering who could be at my door. It's probably Abby, I think, noting the time. But she never rings the bell. Maybe she forgot her keys. A hopeful thought springs into my head … maybe she had to ring the bell because her arms are so full of carry-out. After surveying the dismal selection in the fridge, I think we'll be needing to consult our stake of dog-eared take-out menus tonight. Unless Abby happened to bring dinner with her. Of course, with my luck, it won't even be Abby at the door. It'll probably be some religious fanatic wanting me to join their church or some college kid selling soap. Nevertheless, I open the door, hoping for the best.
I open the door and for a moment, I freeze. There's Abby, standing in my doorway, grinning at the baby she holds in her arms. And for just the smallest moment, I'm lost in a fantasy of what might have been. Opening the door to a tired Abby, coming home, maybe after a long day at work, with our baby in her arms. Welcoming my family home. Looking forward to another night of nothing more than watching, in amusement and awe, the antics of the baby. This is what it would have looked like. Abby standing there looking happy and beautiful as she smiled at the adorable baby in her arms. And I would have been so proud to call them mine …
"Hi," she says, sounding rather chipper. Her voice breaks me out of my reverie, and I return the smile she's giving me.
"Hi."
"Surprise! I brought us some company."
"I see that. Hi, Charlie," I say with a grin and a little wave. The baby smiles shyly at me. I watch as the little head ducks into Abby's shoulder, nuzzling against her for comfort. Susan's green eyes, only in miniature, stare out at me from under long, blonde eyelashes. "Charlie," I say, realizing it for the first time, "You look just like your mom."
"He's right," Abby says to the baby, stepping through the doorway and into the hall, "You do, don't you? Yes, you do." She's cooing at the baby in happy, high-pitched voice and Charlie responds with a fit of giggles, clearly enamored of Aunt Abby. No shy smile for her, Charlie gives Abby a full body smile, legs kicking and arms waving around.
"Charlie's gonna be hanging out with us tonight. I hope that's okay."
"Of course. So to what do we owe this pleasure?"
"Well, apparently Chuck forgot he was supposed to work tonight and Susan's in the middle of a shift. No one ever scheduled the baby-sitter so …"
"So it's Aunt Abby to the rescue?"
"Something like that, I guess." She moves into the living room and drops her bag and the diaper bag onto the couch and then sits down and settles the baby on her lap, beginning to strip off the baby's outerwear.
"So we're baby-sitting? All night?"
"Well, I'm baby-sitting. I'm the one who agreed to do it."
"So I don't have to?" I ask as a joke. I mean, with the baby here, what does she think I'm going to do? Go in the other room and catch up on medical journals? It's not every day I get the chance to play with a baby.
"Of course not. That's not why I'm here. I mean, of course I can do it myself, but well … since I knew we had plans, but that we weren't … you know, going anywhere … well, when Susan needed someone to watch Charlie … I just figured we could all use the company. But since I didn't, you know, ask you if you wanted to baby-sit, I'm not expecting you to take care of the baby. And if you'd rather we're not here, well just go over to Susan's. I mean, that's not a problem."
"Abby …" Now I know what she's worried about. But I want to tell her that she doesn't have to worry, that I'm okay with it. But before I can get the words out, she interrupts.
She stops tending to the baby and looks up at me. Then she starts speaking in a rush, so that I have to listen carefully to catch it all. "You know what? I should have called. I shouldn't have just brought Charlie over here. I mean, I know it's hard enough for you … and to have a baby here, in your house … oh God, I'm sorry. I should have thought. Maybe we'll just go over to Susan's. I can call you once I get Charlie to bed, or I can come over when Susan gets home. I mean, not that I have to. Not that I think that you need me to. I know you'll be fine. Of course, you'll be fine … it's just that I feel bad because we had plans and then I …" She stops her stream of nervous chattering and, noticing the look on my face, demands, "What?"
I can't help it. I know I'm grinning at her, trying not to laugh. But it's funny. And she's cute when she's all flustered like this. "Abby," I say with a chuckle, "It's okay. I'm fine with you and Charlie being here. Really. I think it'll be fun."
"You're sure you're okay with it?" She looks up at me for a moment before her gaze travels back to the baby in her arms. I can't help but smile watching her smile at the baby. It's cute the way she can't seem to pull her attention from Charlie who is happily gurgling in her lap.
"Why wouldn't I be? I'm okay being around babies," I assure her. "I kinda have to be. They're everywhere, after all. Can't avoid them forever. And I don't want to. Especially not Charlie." I sit down next to them on the couch and take one of the baby's hands. No protests, but I do get eyed somewhat suspiciously. From both Charlie and Abby. Charlie who knows Abby much better than me, is probably trying to figure out if I'm friend or foe. I'm not sure what Abby's thinking. "What?" I ask in response to her narrowed eyes. "I really do like spending time with Charlie."
"I know. But … that doesn't mean you want to baby-sit … all night."
"Because I've got something better to do?" I ask skeptically, joking around. We both know I had no big plans. Dinner and a video with Abby, as usual. No reason Charlie can't join us on the couch.
"I don't know. You tell me. You didn't seem too excited about having the baby here all night."
"What? Oh," I say as I get a sudden flash of understanding. "I didn't mean it like that. I just meant … is Charlie staying all night? You know, over night. Not that it's a problem, I just don't know where a baby would sleep. The cribs are long gone, you know." I give her a lopsided smile.
She closes her eyes and takes a deep breath, "Don't do that." She gives me a look. I know she hates it when I try to make light of things. And she doesn't let me get away with it. For months now, she's been making me face all the things I've wanted to bury and ignore. She says that bringing Charlie over here was a spur-of-the-moment thing, and I'm sure it was … but that doesn't mean that she didn't see this as an opportunity to help me along in the healing process. Exposure, right? That's how to conquer your fears. Not that I'm exactly afraid of babies, but …
"Sorry," I say, clearing my throat and getting serious. "But the baby stuff is all gone."
"I guess I know that," she snaps.
Well, of course she does. She was the one who was there the day that I finally opened up the door to reveal the room filled with all the baby things that I'd hastily packed away. All the opened and unopened gifts. All the tiny little outfits. Every last piece of furniture and equipment. And it was Abby who was there beside me, packing up the boxes, helping me dismantle the crib. She was the one who had the idea to take it all to the crisis nursery -- an emergency children's shelter where it would all get put to good use. It was only after it was all taken care of that she finally let herself cry with me. But in the end, I think she cried more than I did that day. Sometimes I think she feels this grief even more acutely than I do. But then she has a soft spot for babies … and parents, too, I suppose. Especially when they are in need. I heard all about her rise to stardom during her NICU rotation, and I've seen her compassion for parents and children in crisis firsthand more often that I can count. And, in fact, the first time I ever really talked to her, she mentioned the tragedy she'd seen in OB with moms and babies. This should come as no surprise to me since it was one of the first things I knew about her … one of the first things that gave me an indication of who she is. Watching her now with Charlie, I see her love for and ease with babies even more clearly.
"Why are you looking at me like that?" She demands, finally tearing her eyes from the baby and looking at me. "Look, I'm sorry I snapped, okay? I just don't want … I mean, I just don't think you should … some things aren't meant to be joked about, that's all."
"I know. You're right." She nods in acknowledgement, and the conversation is suspended while we both make faces and ramble nonsense at Charlie. "You never said if Charlie's sleeping over or not," I say to Abby.
"Oh. No. Susan's off at midnight." She pauses, and I watch as a thoughtful expression crosses her face. "But I suppose Charlie probably goes to bed before midnight. Where are you gonna sleep, huh Char? Aunt Abby didn't think this through, did she?" Abby's shaking her head at the baby who has a good fistful of her hair. Abby just laughs when that fistful of hair ends up in Charlie's mouth.
"I guess there's always the floor. Or the bed … we could put a bunch of pillows around the outside."
"The carseat!" Abby declares triumphantly. I look around, but I don't see it anywhere. "I left it in the car. I just took the baby out of it because …" she pauses and looks back to the baby, her cooing face turning her features soft as she slips into baby-talk. "Charlie was getting fussy, weren't you, Charlie?"
"You want me to go get it?" I ask since Abby's gotten comfortable on the couch, her feet up on the coffee table while she slouches down against the back of the couch. The baby is standing up on her lap, facing her and busily trying to suck on anything within reach … namely Abby's chin at the moment.
"That would be good," Abby says barely moving her jaw in deference to the baby that's attached to it. "Keys?" she calls just about the time I get to the door.
"Keys. That would help." She extracts them from somewhere and tosses them over her head to me. I see Charlie's little face come to into view .. I guess the arc of the keys flying across the room was intriguing. I smile at the baby and wave … and Charlie immediately bursts into tears.
"What's wrong?" I watch Abby pull the baby away from her shoulder and settle Charlie into the crook of her arm before I run out and retrieve the baby seat. By the time I get back, all is quiet again. But Abby and the baby are no longer on the couch.
"Ab?"
"Down here." I walk around the couch and find Abby and Charlie on the floor. Abby's pushed the coffee table out of the way and spread a blanket on the floor. And I could have sworn I was gone for less than a minute.
"You really don't need my help, huh?"
"Nope. But … it's more fun with two of us." She pats the blanket next to her, clearly issuing an invitation.
I settle in with them, and for a while Abby and I act as goofy and silly as we can, trying to coax smiles from the baby. Charlie invariably grins at Abby, mostly ignores me, and seems to have a great time trying to mouth a variety of soft toys. Eventually though, the baby must tire of this game, and begins to fuss. Naturally, Abby scoops the baby up before I even realize that the fussing is escalating to full-blown crying. I'm about to ask some dumb question about what's wrong with the baby when Abby answers it for me.
"It's dinner time, isn't it, Charlie?"
Dinner. Sounds good. I'm hungry. "What are we having?"
"Hmm … I believe mushed up peaches and formula is on the menu."
"Appetizing as that sounds, maybe we should order a pizza."
"I think Charlie's a little young for pizza."
"Yeah, but we're not. And believe me, there's nothing in the fridge to eat."
"Okay. Want me to call while I heat up Charlie's bottle? What do you want?" She asks, while bouncing the baby on her hip, trying to get Charlie to take the pacifier.
"I don't care. Whatever you want."
"Okay. I'll be right back then," she says. And then she holds the baby out to me. I take Charlie, and we watch Abby disappear into the kitchen. Charlie looks at me and starts to wail. My first thought is to follow Abby to the kitchen. But then she seems able to handle the baby without my help, I guess I should be able to do the same.
"It's okay, Charlie," I say in what I hope is a baby-friendly voice. "Don't cry. Uncle John's here. I've got you." This doesn't seem to instill any confidence in Charlie who just cries harder. So I figure my choices are to sit here and watch the baby cry or to get up and try to do something to stop the crying. Okay, we'll see what we can do to calm down the baby. I try walking. I try jiggling. Bouncing, rocking, singing … none of it seems to work. Charlie's cries have turned to screams. Where the hell did Abby disappear to? Did she run out the back door? She must hear the baby crying … so what's taking her so long? She's probably in the kitchen laughing her ass off at me.
"Abby?" I call. No response. I wait through a couple more minutes of crying. I try reasoning with the baby. I try shaking rattles in Charlie's face. That doesn't work … which I can't say surprises me. If I were upset I don't think I'd want some fuzzy, rattling thing being shoved at me either. "Abby?" I'm sure I sound more desperate this time.
"Sorry," she says, rushing out of the kitchen, bottle in one hand, container of food in the other.
"What took you so long?" I ask, handing over a wailing Charlie.
"The pizza place put me on hold. Hey, what's wrong, baby? What did Uncle John do to you?" I watch as she cradles Charlie in her arms and with a few coos and cuddles and a little swaying back and forth, the baby magically stops crying. Or at least settles down to a more fussy, hiccupy cry. Abby holds the bottle up where the baby can see it, and Charlie reaches for it, chubby little hands wrapping around the warm bottle. Abby settles on the couch to feed the baby, and I stand rooted to the spot, just staring at her.
"You're staring at me again," she says, glancing up from the baby to give me a coy little smile.
"I'm just … in awe."
"Of what?" she says, laughing at me.
"You. You're really good at this."
"Feeding the baby? It's not that hard. All I have to do is hold up the bottle."
"Not just feeding the baby. The whole baby thing." She shrugs. "You can't fool me. And you can't fool Charlie. The minute you walked out of the room, the baby started screaming and didn't stop, no matter what I did."
"I know. I heard. But that's because Charlie knows me better than you, that's all." She smiles down at the baby, and lightly strokes a little apple cheek, giving the baby a loving smile.
"It's more than that, Abby. You just … "
"What?" She looks at me with curiosity.
"I don't know. There's just something … you just have that mommy vibe."
"Mommy vibe?" She sounds slightly skeptical. Okay, a lot skeptical.
"Yeah."
"You haven't been putting together model airplanes today have you?"
"Model airplanes?"
"Yeah, and using the model glue in a small, enclosed, poorly-ventilated room?"
"I'm not high. And I'm not crazy. You are good at this. I think you missed your calling," I say, shaking a finger at her in jest.
"I should have been a baby nurse?" She snaps her fingers. "Oh, that's right … I was."
"Not exactly what I was thinking. But being such a natural must have made you a great 'baby nurse.'"
"Did you ever think that maybe being a baby nurse has made me a 'natural?'"
"No." I say that in my most sincere tone of voice because I mean it.
I have no doubt that Abby was born with this ability to nurture anyone, but especially children. For a long moment our eyes are locked together … and I'm reminded all over again about how all that's left unsaid can say so much. I don't know exactly what she's thinking, but looking at her with our best friend's baby in her arms and seeing how at ease she is and how happy she seems, suddenly I'm envisioning a whole world of new possibilities. I always knew Abby was great with kids in a professional setting, but this is different. This is like that moment when I first opened the door. A little taste of what might have been. A little taste of what could still be? I find myself somewhat breathless at the thought. Somehow I know she's thinking the same thing. Talk about an emotionally charged moment. I don't know what to say. I couldn't begin to figure out what words would be appropriate. Lucky thing we've never needed words. Even with nothing said, I know that in this moment there's been a subtle shift. We've just crossed some invisible line and somehow I know things are gonna be different from now on.
Just look away. I keep telling myself that, and yet somehow, I can't seem to pull my gaze from his. I'm not exactly sure what's going on here, but something is … of that much I'm sure. The very air around us is charged with an unidentifiable energy, and it feels like it's settling around me like a fog. I try to clear my head, but all this talk from Carter of my 'mommy vibe,' whatever the hell that is, and how good I am with babies has me kinda freaked out. Not necessarily in a bad way. Just in a totally surprised way. And put it together with the way he's looking at me right now … like there's something that he wants that only I can give him … well, I'm not entirely sure where to go with that. If it weren't for the baby in my arms, I'm not sure where this moment would take us, but I can feel my cheeks tinting pink at the mere thought of the possibilities. I didn't realize … I didn't know that this is what we were doing. I guess I should have known.
But in all honesty, when I told Susan that we were just friends, I meant that. And technically … that's all we are. In all these months, things have been strictly platonic. And up until now he hasn't given me the slightest indication that he was looking for anything more than friendship. But that look in his eyes … I know it well. And it has to do with a lot more than friendship. And who am I kidding? My feelings for him are a lot more than friendly, too. I was willing to be friends, just friends, if that's what he wanted. I even thought that maybe that's all we were meant to be. And if it meant that I could be a part of his life, watch over him, help him be happy … well, then maybe that would be okay. The whole being just friends after being … well, more than friends thing has worked out fine with Luka and I … of course, it's different with John and I and always has been. Still, I thought if there was a way to be friends … well, maybe that was the best of both worlds. The fun, laughter, and companionship of being friends without the pain, fear, and risk that seemed to be so much a part of our … romantic relationship. Even if the romance was dead, I wanted the friendship back. I missed it. I missed him. And I kept telling myself that it was enough. And I kept hoping that someday I would believe that.
I didn't expect this to ever happen. Or then again, maybe I did. Of course, I remind myself, nothing has really happened. He's just looking at you. Okay, sure he's looking at me with a longing and hunger in his eyes that I've never seen before. And sure, there's a softness in his face … a wistful, hopeful look. And yes, he's looking at me with the same … affection and fondness that I used to see all the time when our relationship was still brand new. But maybe I'm imagining all of it. Maybe I'm reading more into a simple gaze than I should be. If this were anyone other than Carter … but it is Carter. And we've always had this ability to look into each other's eyes and know what the other is thinking. It's Carter, and so I know that I'm right. He still … what? Loves me? Needs me? Wants me? Is drawn to me? Yeah, maybe that's it … he's drawn to me still. What did Susan say? We're always spinning in each other's orbits? I guess that's a good way to put it. God knows my life doesn't seem quite right without him in it … at least in some capacity. I imagine it must be the same for him and that's why we always manage to find our way back to each other in one form or another. But … undeniable as all that may be, I'm still not sure what it means for us.
A sudden cry from Charlie breaks the spell and brings me back to the moment, making me suddenly all too well aware that there's a baby in my arms, needing my immediate attention. The baby fussing and squirming in my lap pulls me away from Carter's stare. I smile down at Charlie, who pushes the bottle away and starts crying in earnest.
"What's wrong, sweetie? Do you need to burp? Huh? Do you have a bubble in your belly?" I shift the baby onto my shoulder and begin a regimen of rubbing and patting to help coax out a burp. When I glance over at him, I find that Carter is lounging back against the couch with an amused smile on his face while he watches me with Charlie. I'm not even sure I want to think about what might be going through his head. Charlie lets out an enormous burp, and my attention turns to the baby once again.
"Did anything come out?" I ask John.
He peers over at my shoulder. "Nope, you're spit-up free."
"Good. Hey Charlie, now that you made some room, you wanna try some of your nasty mashed up peaches? What do you think?"
"I think you probably shouldn't describe the baby's food as nasty. That's hardly gonna wanna make Charlie eat it."
"I'm sorry. Charlie, do you wanna try some of your nasty-looking, but delicious-tasting smashed up peaches?"
"Well, that's better, I guess."
"So how are we gonna do this Charlie? I guess … we can put you in the carseat, huh? Can you find a bib?" I ask, gesturing toward the diaper bag.
"Me?"
"No, I thought maybe Charlie would root through the diaper bag and find a bib. Yeah, you."
"Oh, okay." As soon as he produces a bib, I hand him the baby so I can get the carseat and arrange it at the end of the coffee table.
"Well, can you put it on?" I ask with a chuckle when I notice he's just sitting there with the baby on his lap, holding the bib.
"I'll try. Nope, it won't fit." He's holding it up to his own chin, as if he's going to fasten it around his neck.
"Cute. But can you put it on the baby?"
"Some people just can't take a joke, Charlie."
"Isn't a joke supposed to be … funny?"
"Ha ha."
"Now see who can't take a joke?" I ask as I pick up the baby. Carter's managed to secure the bib, so I get Charlie settled into the carseat and then open up the container of baby food and stir it up with the tiny spoon. Charlie's looking at me with interest so I think this is gonna be easy. I load up the spoon and aim it toward Charlie's mouth, but before I can get it there, a flailing baby arm crashes into my hand and the spoon and its content go flying. The spoon bounces off my head and lands on the couch.
"You got some smashed-peaches goop in your hair," John helpfully points out.
"No shit, Sherlock." I reach up and try to wipe the gunk out of my hair.
"Abby … I don't think you should swear in front of Charlie. After all, this baby is just on loan. We don't own Charlie."
"So if Charlie were ours, the swearing would be okay?"
"Well, no … I'm not saying I'd want you swearing in front of our kids either, but at least then I wouldn't have to worry about the wrath of Susan when the first thing out of Charlie's mouth is a four-letter word."
"The first word most babies say is a four-letter word." I go back to trying to feed Charlie, studiously ignoring the implication behind those words … our kids. Without thinking, I almost responded, 'Oh, we're having kids now?' But I was afraid of opening up that door. I'm not ready for that one yet.
"What kind of babies do you know?" He asks, laughing at me.
"I just said that most babies say a four-letter word, I didn't say it was a cuss word. Dada is four-letter word."
"Okay, good point."
"This isn't working. Charlie's squirming around too much and I'm getting more on the baby than in the baby."
"Not to mention on you. But it's a good look for you. You should wear strained fruit more often. Fruit works for you." I catch myself wondering if that is some sort of double entendre. And then I kick myself for thinking that way. Is this how it's gonna be now? Stop it, Abby; he was just making another dumb joke.
"Be that as it may, I think that the object of feeding the baby is to actually get some food in the baby, not all over me."
"So what do you suggest?"
"Well," I say, as I take Charlie out of the carseat, "Do you want to spoon or hold?" As soon as the words are out of my mouth, I hear how they sound and find my cheeks tinting. Oh God, now is everything I say going to sound like it has some double meaning?
Luckily enough, Carter's mind must not be as far in the gutter as mine because he doesn't seem to notice anything amiss. "I guess I'll spoon. Holding could be a messy job and since you're already a mess …"
"Gee, thanks."
"Besides, Charlie likes you better. The baby would probably prefer that you're the one doing the holding. And maybe if I'm doing the feeding, Charlie will decide to like me, after all."
"Charlie likes you. Sometimes they just need a little time to warm up."
"Who?"
"Babies."
"Oh. See … I told you you're good at this whole baby thing."
"Only I couldn't manage to feed the baby," I say, settling Charlie into the crook of my arm and pinning down the fidgety arms and legs so that John can spoon in the food unimpeded. Things go much more smoothly with two of us on the job. Charlie finishes the peaches and what was left in the bottle and then produces a satisfied burp.
"What now?"
"I don't know," I shrug. "Probably a diaper change.'
"And then?"
"I don't know. Whatever babies do. Play, I guess. Chew on things. Spit up."
"I'm okay with the playing and chewing, but I'm not gonna spit up."
"Good to know. Wanna help me change a diaper?"
"I'd love to." That's a debatable statement, but he does help, and together we manage to get Charlie changed. Then we all move to the floor for some playing and chewing and spitting up. John and I watch with excitement as Charlie pushes up on all fours, and then share a disappointed sigh when the baby flops back down to lay on the blanket and rest.
"Are you trying to figure out how to crawl?" John asks the baby who is now busy trying to eat my keys. "Isn't it too early?"
"For Charlie to be crawling? No, not necessarily. A little early, but all babies are different. Besides, if you didn't notice, Charlie doesn't quite have it down yet."
"Well, everybody needs a little help now and then. Maybe we should show Charlie how it's done." With that, he proceeds to help Charlie back up to all fours and then demonstrate crawling. "C'mon, Abby. Show Charlie how to crawl."
"I don't think that's how it works."
"You never know. C'mon, give it a shot."
I give him a dubious look, but in the end I start crawling around too. What the hell. At least no one is here to see me making a jackass of myself. Well, except Charlie who watches us with what I swear is a bemused look very reminiscent of Susan. Oddly enough, John and I crawling around the room in circle like we are in a very weird conga line doesn't inspire Charlie to get up and crawl. And luckily, after a few minutes of following Carter around on my hands and knees, I'm quite relieved to hear the doorbell. I spring up right away and run to get the door. Of course, it's only after I've opened the door to the pizza guy that I realize that I have no money in my hand. Now where did my bag get off to? I have no idea. But since John's jacket is hanging here in the hallway, I decide that seems like a good source of funds. Sure enough, I strike gold in the inside pocket. I return to the living room with a piping hot pizza in my hands. Carter, with the baby in his arms, is giving me a look.
"What's mine is yours, huh? I mean, just make yourself at home, rifling through my clothes and taking my money."
"I already did. Besides, you're always trying to pay for dinner. And I didn't know where my bag was."
"Convenient excuse."
"I thought so. How about you get the baby settled with some toys, and I'll get us some drinks?"
When I return from the kitchen, the baby is happily playing on the blanket so Carter and I take the opportunity to dig right in. The pizza is almost gone when John turns to me and says, "This is kinda fun, huh?"
I look down at the baby whose antics have been keeping us amused while we eat. "Yeah."
"I could get used to this."
"Pizza and root beer? I would think you'd be used to it by now."
"I wasn't talking about the pizza." He's giving me another one of those looks that I could so easily get sucked into. I busy myself peeling a piece of pepperoni from the top of my pizza. When I refuse to look at him, he goes on. "You, me. Just sitting at home on a Friday, watching the baby."
"So you want to do more baby-sitting? I'm sure Susan will be thrilled." I know that's not what he's getting at, but I'm not sure this is the time for this particular conversation. Besides, I think maybe this is the sort of thing we should ease into.
"Sure, that would be a good start." He takes my hand in his. Not an unheard of gesture these past few months, but why does it feel different all of the sudden? "Practice makes perfect, after all."
"John …"
"Abby, what are we doing?"
"Well, we're baby-sitting for one thing."
"That's not what I'm talking about, and you know it."
"I know. I just meant that … maybe now's not the time." I get up and go pick up Charlie who has grown tired of staring up at the ceiling. I sit back down with the baby on my lap and pick up the little hands, playing a little patty-cake somewhat absent-mindedly.
"Sometimes now is all you have. If there's one thing I've learned, it's that time is … precious. And I'm tired of wasting it."
"I understand. But …"
"What?"
"It's just all so sudden, you know?"
"Sudden? It's been months."
"Months?" To the best of my knowledge, this isn't something that we've been discussing for months.
"Sure, these past couple of months that we've spent … rebuilding … us."
"Is that what we're doing?"
"No, don't do that, Abby. You know better than that." Okay, so maybe I do. Maybe all along, somewhere in the back of my mind, I've expected that this day would come. But that doesn't mean that I have the foggiest idea of what to do about it now.
"We're friends."
"Yeah, we are. You're the best friend I've ever had. And I don't know how I would have gotten through this without you. You've given me the kind of support that I've never really expected to get from anyone. And the way you've been there … well, it's made me realize how stupid I was, and that I don't want to lose you ever again. I know … I know I messed up with you. And I understand if you don't want … if you can't give me another chance. I don't know if I would give me another chance. Of course, in a way, I guess, you already have. I mean, you didn't have to befriend me again. And I'm grateful just to have your friendship. And if that's all I can ever have …" He trails off, shrugging his shoulders. "Maybe I shouldn't be saying this, but … well, it just seems like if you see a chance for a new beginning, some hope for a light at the end of the tunnel … well, you shouldn't let fear stop you from reaching out and grabbing it."
"Sometimes you reach out, but all you get for your trouble is your finger bit off. And when all is said and done, you're left with nothing but pain and a wound that won't heal."
"Is that what I am to you?"
"Sometimes. Sometimes it's hard … being your friend."
"Then why do you do it?"
And that's the million dollar question right there. Why do I do it? "Because … because you can't always control your feelings. When you care about someone and you see them hurting … I just wanted to make it better. I knew you needed someone. I thought maybe I could be that someone."
"Even though it was like tearing open the wound."
"It wasn't that bad. And it's okay now. But at first it was kinda rough."
"But you did it anyway."
"Yeah, well …" I shrug as I plant a kiss on the top of Charlie's downy little head. I don't know if the baby senses the seriousness of the discussion that's going on or if it's just that it's getting close to bedtime, but Charlie is extremely quiet, happily resting in my arms working on a pacifier.
"This is what amazes me about you. I don't know how you could put aside your own pain to comfort me … not after the way I treated you. Not after the way I came back here and … rubbed your nose in it. I didn't mean for it to be like that. I didn't think about how it would be for you. But I wasn't thinking much, period, then. But now, knowing how it must have been for you … it makes me cringe just thinking about it. It couldn't have been easy … watching me flaunt my instant family."
"Actually, that wasn't so bad. I mean, yeah, it wasn't great. A little wounded pride. A lot of jealousy. But, at the same time … somehow … I was happy. Because you were happy. Or I thought you were, anyway. And that's what I really wanted. I knew that you'd been unhappy for so long … and I thought if Kem could give you what I couldn't … well, that's what I wanted for you. Someone who could give you the things you want."
"You were jealous?"
"Well … yeah. It's not easy watching someone else and thinking that they're living the life that was almost yours. You having someone new was one thing, but then there was the baby … that was a little harder to get used to. But I knew that was one of things you wanted. And if you could have the life that you wanted with her … well, I just told myself that it was for the best. You and I gave it a shot, and it didn't work out. So we'd go our separate ways. I guess I just thought we'd be a little more separate. I was doing fine while you were gone."
"But then I came back."
"Yeah."
"That couldn't have been easy for you."
"No. But I was happy … for you."
"Too bad I wasn't."
"You weren't?" I ask, surprised. This isn't something we've talked about much.
"I tried to be. I thought maybe I would be … someday. But then this guaranteed family that I thought I'd secured for myself fell apart … and who was there? You. I'm still trying to figure out what I did to deserve that."
"I'm sure I still owed you a couple. But that's not what it was about."
"I know that. And I know that I hurt you. And I'm sorry. I know that doesn't make up for everything I put you through … and I know that you may not be willing to take another chance on us. It's a risk. But without risk, there's no reward. And there are never any guarantees, no matter how much you may want them. I know that now. So I don't know if it would work this time, but I think it might. I think maybe we're ready. This past year has taught me things I never wanted to know, but that I probably needed to learn. And I like to think that I've grown up some because of it. And you … well, you were always amazing, but you've really … blossomed and become an even more incredible person. You're still my Abby, but a little more …"
"Sane?" I suggest.
"Comfortable."
"Comfortable?"
"Yeah. With yourself. With your life. You don't seem to be struggling so much anymore. And all the things that I worried about … all the things that planted little seeds of doubt in my head … I know I don't have to worry about them anymore. And as it turns out, you weren't the one I should have been worrying about in the first place."
"I don't know about that. I was pretty messed up."
"And so was I. But you're not anymore. And I'm getting there."
"Well …"
"I think we're both getting better. Growing."
"Yeah."
"And the one last little thing that I was worried about … well, watching you with Charlie … not just tonight, but every day since this baby was born … it's always Charlie this and Charlie that, and I see how much you love this baby and how good you are at this whole thing … Well, between that and this new risk-taking attitude of yours, I don't think I have anything left to worry about."
He's giving me another one of those expectant looks. I know he's hoping I'll give him confirmation of what he is so hoping is true. But I'm not sure if I can do that. Not yet. So I choose to focus on something else. "What risk-taking attitude?"
He smiles. He knows what I'm doing, but he lets me do it. "You know exactly what I'm talking about."
"You mean going back to med school?"
"Well, that's part of it. But not all of it. You just don't seem so … cautious these days. It's a good thing, I think."
"I guess," I say with a shrug.
"I'm hoping it'll work in my favor."
I smile at that, but instead of looking at John, I look down at the baby. "Charlie, you look tired. I think we should get you ready for bed, huh? Are you sleepy? You wanna go night-night?"
"Okay," John says to me. I know he means he's willing to drop it, at least for now. I give him a little nod to show that I understand. "Let's put Charlie to bed."
"How about if you do the PJ's, and I'll go warm up a bottle?"
"Hmm … somehow I think you're just trying to get me to do the diaper thing."
"Maybe."
"Sneaky."
"Thanks," I say as I make my way to the kitchen. I heat up the bottle and make sure to shake it up and test the temperature before I take it back to John and Charlie. I find them on the couch where I left them, only now the baby is in a footy sleeper, happily chewing on Carter's finger. And the lights in the room have been turned down, everything feeling very calm and cozy.
"Charlie didn't cry this time," I point out, smiling at the two of them.
"Nope."
"So you guys are buddies now? See? That didn't take long. I guess you have a way with a babies, too." He just shrugs and smiles down at Charlie. I hold out the bottle to him. "You want a turn?"
"Yeah?"
"Sure. I don't think the baby will mind. Charlie looks pretty comfortable with you now." And in fact, all it takes is for Charlie to catch sight of the bottle. Immediately the baby leans back into Carter's arms, settling in for a bedtime snack.
There's something about a man with a baby in his arms like this. I don't know what it is, exactly. It's not like John wasn't holding Charlie earlier, but now that he's feeding the baby … it's just different. There's a … tenderness on his face as he watches the baby in his arms. And I can't seem to take my eyes off them. Is this what he was feeling when he was staring at me earlier? He looks so at ease holding a baby, like he was always meant to do this. I'm caught off guard by the wave of sadness that washes over me. Sometimes life just isn't fair. Stop it, I order myself. He's isn't sitting here feeling sorry for himself, so I can't let myself fall into that trap. He seems to be enjoying spending time with Charlie; he's not dwelling on what might have been. Plus, I remind myself, I wouldn't be here now … if the baby had lived. He'd have a different life, one where I would only be on the sidelines. Still, it's a hell of a price to pay. Especially when he would have been such a good dad, and would have loved fatherhood so much. It doesn't seem right that he should be denied something that would have suited him so perfectly. Of course, just because he's not a father right now, doesn't mean he won't ever be. And if you believe that everything happens for reason …
"What's wrong?" John asks in a whisper in deference to the dozing baby in his arms.
I take a quick swipe at the tear rolling down my cheek, wishing he wouldn't have noticed. "Nothing."
"Abby …"
I shake my head. I'm not gonna talk about it right now. "I think the baby's asleep." The bottle is empty and Charlie appears to be very relaxed.
"Yeah," he nods. For a while, we just sit there in silence, watching the baby sleep in John's arms.
"Aren't your arms getting tired?" I ask after a while.
"Yeah, kinda. I guess maybe I should put Charlie in the carseat, huh?"
"That would be up to you." He looks a little reluctant, but gets up and moves over to the carseat where he gets the baby settled. He carefully covers a sleeping Charlie with a blanket, and then pauses with his hand resting lightly on the baby's head. Even in the soft light of the room with John standing in the shadows, I can see the melancholy smile that is etched on his face.
"You're gonna make such a great father."
He quickly turns and looks at me, the smile on his face turning more wistful. "I hope so." He shrugs, denoting some doubt that it'll ever happen.
"You will. You'll be terrific. And I know it's hard to imagine now, but someday … you will be a father."
"I don't know." Another shrug as he looks down at Charlie again, then lets his hand trail down over the baby's arm and leg, before he finally wanders back to the couch and takes his place next to me. "Maybe someday."
"Definitely someday. You will be." He's giving me a skeptical look, clearly not convinced. I take his hand in mine, looking first at our clasped-together hands, and then looking up at his face, waiting for him to meet my gaze. I'm biting my lip in nervousness, but I'm going to say it. I have to say it. "At least … at least you will be … if I have anything to say about it."