Part 12

 

~

I know that I can’t take no more

It ain’t no lie

I wanna see you out that door

Baby, bye, bye, bye

~

 

Five days later

 

Grace glanced at the digital clock for the third time that minute.   It was still 12:28.   Two more minutes to go.

 

She sighed and began tapping her foot on the bathroom tile impatiently.   The edge of the bathtub was hard and cold, and she was tired of sitting there.   But if she got up, she knew all she would do was pace.   It was all she could do; she could concentrate on nothing besides the little white object sitting on the counter.

 

Again, Grace looked at the clock.  12:29 now.   One more minute.   She wondered if Brian was still sleeping.   She had gone to the downstairs bathroom to avoid waking him up.   She was doing this in total secret, for there was no use in getting his hopes up for nothing.  

 

Finally, the red digits on the clock changed to 12:30.  Grace felt a flutter of excitement rush through her as she stood up from the cold porcelain of the bathtub.  Feeling rather lightheaded with anticipation, she went to the counter and picked up the little stick, the familiar pregnancy test indicator. 

 

It had to be true this time – it just had to be.   She had bought those tampons in Lexington over a week ago and had not had to use them yet.  She was never that late.   But still, it could end up being just another irregularity, another false alarm.   That was the reason she had decided to do the test after midnight, so Brian would not know, just in case it turned out to be negative again.  


Grace frowned.   She didn’t know how many false alarms she could deal with.   It almost made her afraid to look.   But she knew she had to. 

 

Before she turned the indicator over to look at it, Grace whispered a little prayer in her head.   God, please.  Please, let it be positive this time.  Please…         

 

Sucking in her breath, Grace turned it over and squinted into the little window on the front.   And her heart leaped in her throat.

 

Shrieking, Grace raced out of the bathroom, still clutching the indicator in her hand.   Her screams could be heard throughout the whole house, as she tore up the stairs, shouting, “Brian!  Brian!”

 

***

 

I was jolted from my sleep by the sound of someone screaming my name. 

 

“Brian!  Brian!”

 

Immediately, I was out of bed.  What was wrong?  Why was Grace screaming?

 

Frightened, I ran out into the hall.   Grace was running up the stairs, breathless.

“Brian!” she cried again.   Her hand hit the light switch, and nanoseconds later, the hallway was flooded with light, nearly blinding me.

 

“Look!” she squealed, thrusting something towards me.   Spots were dancing in front of my still-adjusting eyes, but between them, I could see what she was holding.  And as my eyes caught sight of the little blue plus sign, she said the words I’d been waiting months to hear.

 

“I’m pregnant!”

 

***

 

Six months later

 

Grace sank down on the couch with a tired groan. 

 

“Tired, honey?” I asked sympathetically.  

 

She rolled her eyes.  “Very.  Carting around these extra pounds is exhausting.”   She smiled wearily as she stroked her pregnant stomach.

 

“Here, you just lie back and relax,” I said, scooting over so she could stretch out on the couch.   She propped herself up against one of the arms and stretched her legs out so that her feet were in my lap.  I pulled off her slippers and began to rub her puffy ankles.

 

It was the beginning of February, and Grace was now about seven months pregnant.   We did not know the sex of the baby yet – we wanted to wait until it was born – but we knew it was healthy and developing normally, according to Dr. Rainsville, Grace’s obstetrician.   Now we just had to wait two more months until the baby’s due date, which was in early November. 

 

In the meantime, we had plenty to keep us busy.  We had hired decorators to redo one of the guest bedrooms into a nursery, and they were in the process of painting and wallpapering it now.   We had decided on a farm theme, with a farm scene painted on the walls, a light blue crib set with pastel pigs, cows, ducks, and all kinds of other farm animals on it, and a mobile with fluffy-looking sheep that played “Baa Baa Black Sheep”.  Altogether, it was going to be adorable.  I couldn’t wait until it was done, and the baby had arrived.

 

“Mmm, that feels so good, sweetie,” Grace murmured, closing her eyes blissfully. 

 

 I smiled, feeling lucky to be able to pamper her like this.  Pregnancy was something Leighanne and I had never been through, so this was a first for me, as well as for Grace.   I planned to be involved in every way possible.   Grace and I were taking a Lamaze class, and although I found it slightly ridiculous half the time, I went along with it and participated, for Grace’s sake, knowing I was the one who would be coaching her while she was in labor.  

 

“Brian?” Grace said suddenly, opening her eyes to look at me.

 

“Hm?”

 

“I was thinking about inviting Dad and Sheila down to stay for a weekend.  Would you be okay with that?” she asked.

 

The smile left my face.   “Aw, Gracie, do they have to?” I protested.

 

“Bri, come on.  They haven’t seen us since we were in Lexington, and I know Dad’ll want to see me before the baby’s born,” Grace went on.

 

I sighed.  Although I had to admit that Frank had made quite a change, and Sheila seemed like a nice person, I didn’t want them spending a weekend at our house.   But I knew Grace did, and just like she had come to Lexington with me, I was going to have to let her father and his girlfriend come down here.

 

“Alright,” I said, sighing again with much exaggeration.

 

Grace grinned.  “Thanks, honey.”

 

I smirked at her.  “You owe me.”

 

“No way!  I came to Lexington for you; you were the one who owed me!” she protested, laughing.

 

“Uh, I don’t think so.  You wouldn’t have even met up with you dad again if I hadn’t have made you come to Lexington,” I pointed out.

 

Grace stuck out her tongue playfully, as I gloated.   Suddenly she gasped.

 

“What?” I asked in alarm.

 

“She’s kicking!” Grace cried, her eyes lighting up as her hand immediately went to her stomach.  “Feel.”   She grabbed my hand and pressed it up against her stomach.

 

A mile-wide smile spread across my face as I felt the strong kicks of our baby.   “She’s kicking?” I asked.  “That ain’t no girl.  That’s a boy kicking in there.   He’s gonna be a soccer player someday.”

 

Grace just rolled her eyes and grinned.   We had had the girl/boy debate many times already.   Whenever Grace said she thought it was a girl, I fired back that it had to be a boy.   Neither one of us really cared which gender the baby was; I would be thrilled with either one.   But deep down inside me, I was hoping for a son.   A little girl would be wonderful, but there’s just something about that father/son relationship.  I figured Grace felt the same way about having a girl and that mother/daughter bond. 

 

“No, I think she’s gonna be a soccer player,” Grace retorted, continuing the dispute.  I just shook my head and smiled, feeling like the luckiest man in the world.

 

***

 

Two weeks later

 

“Bri, would you pour drinks?” Grace asked, as she finished tossing a large chef salad. 

 

“Sure,” I replied, heading to the refrigerator. 

 

It was a Saturday, and Frank and Sheila had come to stay the weekend.   I had inwardly been dreading it, but now that they were here, it wasn’t so bad. 

 

I was still a little leery of Frank though.  Something just didn’t feel right about him.   He was nice enough, but he had seemed sort of distant the whole day.   It wasn’t like how he had acted when we had visited him in Lexington, happy and carefree, thrilled to see Grace and I.  I knew he was happy to see his daughter this time too, but it was different, as if he wasn’t really all there.   It was obvious he had other things on his mind. 

 

I opened the refrigerator door and peered inside, trying to decide what to serve for drinks.   A tall bottle of wine in the back caught my eye.   It was left over from our wedding, but it hadn’t been opened yet and would still be good.   It was a nice wine too, very expensive, and I knew Grace and I wouldn’t finish it on our own.   She couldn’t drink because of her pregnancy, and I wasn’t much of a drinker either.    I pulled it out, deciding it would be a nice addition to dinner.  

 

I started to get down some wine glasses from one of the cupboards, but stopped with a sudden realization: Frank was a recovering alcoholic.   I knew from my experience with AJ, who had gone through rehab almost four years earlier, that it was probably better I eliminate the temptation by not serving alcohol at dinner, even if it was only to Sheila and I. 

 

I put the wine back in the refrigerator and shut the door, deciding we could all drink milk instead.

 

***

 

That night, Grace was tired and went to bed early.   Sheila turned in shortly after, and after sitting up with Frank for another half hour, I decided to go to bed myself, leaving him to watch TV in the den for however long he wanted.  

 

Grace had just begun to drift off to sleep when I came to bed, but she was wide awake as soon as I crawled into the bed beside her.  

 

“Well, that went well, I think,” I said softly.

 

“Yeah.  I think they were glad we invited them,” Grace replied.   There was a pause, and then she continued, “Did you think Dad was acting kind of weird?”

 

“Yeah!” I said, glad I wasn’t the only one who had noticed.  “It was like he was thinking about something else the whole time.  I mean, I think he was glad to see you, but he had stuff on his mind.”

 

“Yeah.  That’s exactly what I noticed too,” Grace agreed.  “I hope everything’s okay.”

 

I shrugged.  “He and Sheila seemed happy enough.  I don’t think they’re having problems.”

 

“Maybe not, but something was bothering Dad,” she said.   “Or maybe not.  Maybe we’re just being paranoid.   I mean, after all that’s happened, it’s hard not to be.   But maybe we’re worrying about nothing.   He finally has gotten his life back on track; he should be happy.”

 

“Yeah.  I guess maybe we are just being paranoid.  I mean, we haven’t really seen him in so long; maybe we just have to get used to him.   He could be like that all the time.”

 

“Yeah.  That’s probably it,” Grace replied.  “Well, I’m going to try to go back to sleep now.  I’m exhausted.”

 

“So am I,” I said.  “Goodnight, honey.”

 

“’Night, Bri,” she replied.   Then softly, she added, “Night-night, baby.” 

 

I smiled, knowing she was saying goodnight to the baby – she’d been doing that every night ever since he (or she) had started kicking. 

 

“Goodnight, baby,” I whispered as well, reaching under the covers to rub Grace’s stomach.   Then I closed my eyes and fell asleep within minutes, a smile on my face.

 

***

 

Five hours later

 

It was just after three in the morning, and Frank Myers sat up still, staring blankly at the television in the den.  Staring, but not watching.  Instead, he was thinking, thinking about how he was going to break it to Grace. 

 

He had lost his job.

 

He had gotten a job at the local tobacco processing plant two years earlier, shortly after moving back to Lexington.  It was not a great job, but it paid him a decent salary, and that was the most important thing.  But tobacco sales had been steadily going down for years, and the plant had been slowly dwindling.  Finally, it came to the point where many workers had been laid off.  Being one of the newer workers with not such a clean record, Frank had been one of the first to be let go.  And now he was unemployed again.

 

He had told Sheila when it happened, just days earlier.   She had not been exactly thrilled, but she had been all right as soon as he promised to go searching for another job right away.  So far, he had not even begun that search yet though. 


The person he had not yet told was Grace.  And he didn’t know how he was going to.   He knew that after all had happened while she was growing up, she still didn’t trust him and hadn’t forgiven him either.  And when she found out he had lost his job again, she was not going to happy.   He knew she would think that he really hadn’t gotten his life together after all, that he was the same failure he had been when she was young.

 

Frank sighed miserably, burying his head in his hands.   The last thing he wanted was to be thought of as a failure by his own daughter, who had fallen in love and married a rich, successful man and was living the perfect life. 

 

But I am a failure, Frank thought.  I just can’t get it right. 

 

His throat felt dry, and he stood up, groaning as he stretched his body, which was stiff from being on the couch so long.   Squinting through the darkness, he stumbled into the kitchen to get a drink.  He opened the fridge and started to pull out a can of Coke, but stopped suddenly as he noticed the tall, fancy wine bottle sitting on the top shelf, right there in front of him.

 

God, I would love a drink, he thought, his mouth nearly watering as he gazed longingly at the dark, rich wine.   It had been years since he had drank any alcohol.  

 

For eight or nine years after his ex-wife and daughter had left, he had been at his lowest, living in homeless shelters because his house had been repossessed by the government, working minimum wage fast food jobs, and squandering away his meager earnings on beer to feed his addiction. 

 

Finally, one morning, as he lay suffering from yet another hang-over, he made the decision to get help.   He had checked into rehab, and when that was over, he had moved home to Lexington and began going to the AA meetings.   It was at that point when he met Sheila, and the rest was history. 

 

And all that time, all those years, he had been completely sober.   But now, as he looked at the wine, he felt the familiar pangs of temptation come back to haunt him.

 

Just one sip won’t hurt anything, he thought.

 

Don’t do it, his conscience argued.

 

Just a sip.  You don’t have to get drunk.  Just have a sip.  You’ll feel better, his mind went on.

 

And in the end, he went with his mind.   He opened the wine bottle.  And he drank.

 

***

 

I was the first one to wake up the next morning.   It was quite early, only about seven, when I got up, but I couldn’t go back to sleep.

 

I padded downstairs and went into the kitchen to make some coffee, figuring Grace would be getting up soon to make breakfast for our guests.  While the coffee brewed, I opened the fridge to get some milk out and saw that there was an empty space on the top shelf.   Normally, I probably wouldn’t have even noticed this, but for some reason, I remembered putting the wine in that exact spot.  Now it was not there.

 

Frowning, I stuck my head in further and looked all around inside the fridge, thinking maybe it had just gotten pushed behind something.  But by the time I closed the door, I had come to the conclusion that the wine was gone.

 

Who took it? I wondered.   I immediately suspected Frank and silently scolded myself for it.  He’s supposedly been sober for years.  He wouldn’t ruin that by drinking the wine… would he?

 

I honestly didn’t know.   But when I went to the den, the last place I had seen Frank the night before, my worst suspicions were confirmed.

 

Frank lay sprawled out on the couch, sound asleep or passed out, for by the look of the nearly empty wine bottle sitting on the coffee table, I knew he had to have gotten pretty drunk. 

 

I glared at his unconscious form, shocked and angry at the site before me.  Even though I never did really trust Frank, I had hoped he really had changed.   But now I could see that he hadn’t.  Not really.  

 

But how was I going to tell Grace that?

 

***

 

“He did what?!” Grace cried, her mouth dropping open.

 

“He drank almost all of our wedding wine,” I repeated grimly.  “He’s downstairs passed out on the couch.”

 

Grace ran her fingers through her hair and sighed heavily.   “God, I thought he was over this.   I thought he had actually changed.   Stupid of me, huh?”  She smiled sadly.

 

“No.  I thought he had changed too,” I admitted.  “So… what should we do about this?”

 

Grace sighed again.   “I don’t know.  I’ll go talk to him.”

 

I nodded, watching as she brushed past me and went downstairs to confront her father.  I waited at the foot of the stairs.  Moments later, I heard Grace yelling, and I crept downstairs to listen.

 

“How could you do this?!” Grace yelled.

 

“Grace… I’m sorry,” Frank responded meekly.

 

“You’re sorry?  Yeah, you were sorry for what you were like before, and did that matter?  You’re still the same way!  Sorry just doesn’t cut it anymore, Frank!”

 

I cringed.   Grace had gone back to calling him Frank instead of Dad.   That wasn’t good.

 

“Gracie, I don’t know what to tell you.  I didn’t mean to.  I just… I just couldn’t help it.”

 

“Well, you need to figure out how to help it.  And don’t call me Gracie,” Grace spat.

 

“I tried rehab; I tried AA!  God, Grace, I tried!  And… and this one little time doesn’t mean anything.  I can go back to being sober; I can!”

 

“Yeah right.  You’ll go back to being sober, and then the same thing will happen, and you’ll be back at step one again!  It’s just a whole vicious cycle, Frank!”

 

There was a long pause.  Finally, Frank said, “Please, Grace, can’t you forgive me?  It’ll never happen again, I promise.”

 

“Your promises don’t mean shit to me!” cried Grace, her voice rising shrilly.  “And I hadn’t even forgiven you for what you did before!  How can I ever forgive you for this?!”

 

“Grace, please!  I’m your father!” Frank cried desperately.

 

“No, you’re not!  Not anymore!”

 

“What?!  But, Grace-“

 

“Get out!” Grace shouted.

 

“Grace, please, I-“

 

“I said GET OUT!” Grace screamed at the top of her lungs.  “Get out of here and don’t come back!  Ever!”

 

I heard something slam around and heavy footsteps pound across the floor.   I stood at the foot of the stairs, watching as Frank grabbed his jacket from the coat rack in the foyer, slipped on his shoes, and walked out the door, slamming it hard behind him.

 

Moments later, Grace appeared, her face tearstained and pink.   She was actually shaking, she was so angry and upset. 

 

“Come here,” I said softly, taking her in my arms and hugging her tightly.   I rubbed her back gently, and she cried against my shoulder.  “You did the right thing.”

 

Grace said nothing, just sniffled.

 

Suddenly, we both heard footsteps above our heads.   I looked up to the top of the stairs to see Sheila appear, dressed in a robe and slippers, her hair tangled from sleep.  

 

“What’s going on?” she asked softly, looking down at us in bewilderment.

 

Grace bit her lip and looked up at me for help.

 

“Come down here, Sheila,” I said, beckoning to her. 

 

Sheila came slowly down the stairs and looked around.  “Where’s Frank?  I heard yelling; what’s going on?”

 

“Frank’s gone,” Grace spoke up.  “I kicked him out.”

 

“What?” Sheila gasped.  “Kicked him out?  Why??”

 

“He took a bottle of the wine from our wedding, very fancy, expensive wine, and he drank almost the whole bottle,” I spoke up in defense of Grace’s actions.   It didn’t really matter that the wine had been fancy and expensive, but I figured it wouldn’t hurt to add that in.

 

Sheila’s mouth dropped open.  “Oh no,” she moaned.  “Poor Frank.”

 

I saw Grace’s eyes flicker with anger.  “What do you mean, ‘poor Frank?’” she demanded.

 

“Honey, I guess he didn’t tell you this, but… he lost his job Wednesday.”

 

Grace sighed in annoyance and shook her head.  “See, he hasn’t changed!” she cried.  

 

“No, it wasn’t like that,” Sheila said.  “He was one of many who were laid off at the tobacco plant.   It was losing business and couldn’t afford to pay so many workers.   It wasn’t his fault.   But it really hurt him.”

 

Grace shut her mouth.  But she didn’t let up.  “I don’t care.  The point is, he stole our wine, and he drank it.  All those months of AA meetings, all the days of rehab, gone.  They mean nothing now.  He ruined it all.  He’s just as irresponsible as when I was little.”

 

Sheila nodded.  “I understand, sweetie,” she said softly.  “Frank is a good man.  He really is.  And he really has changed.  He would never, ever hurt me like he hurt your mother.   But I know he hurt you, and wounds like that don’t heal easily.”

 

“No, they don’t.  And just when I thought they were starting to heal, he went and ripped the scabs off and made them fresh again,” Grace said bitterly. 

 

“Well, I’m going to go get cleaned up.  I need to find Frank.  I suppose he took the rental car with him, huh?”

 

I went to look out the window and saw that the car they had rented was not in the drive.   “Yeah, he did.”

 

She nodded.   “Well, then, I’ll call around to the local hotels, and when I find him, I’ll have a taxi take me there.”

 

“No, Sheila, we’ll take you,” I said.  “In fact, I can call the hotels for you.  You just go get cleaned up.”

 

Sheila nodded gratefully and went upstairs, while I went into my office to get the phone book.

 

***

 

Hours later, Sheila was gone, and Grace and I were all alone again. 

 

After doing a lot of searching, I had called the local Holiday Inn and found that Frank had gotten a room there.  Sheila had packed up her and Frank’s things, and I had driven her to the hotel.   I wasn’t sure if she and Frank planned on staying the night in the hotel or just heading home that day, but I knew we wouldn’t be seeing them again, so I told her goodbye and apologized for what had happened with as much politeness as I could muster.   Then I headed home.

 

Now Grace and I sat together in the den, tired and emotionally drained.   It was just now one in the afternoon.  Sheila and Frank had planned on spending one more night and driving home the next morning, but now they were gone, and we had the whole rest of the day to ourselves.

 

“Let’s do something,” Grace spoke up.

 

“Like what?”

 

“I dunno.  Just something,” she said.  “I can’t stand to just sit around here and think about everything.   I need to get my mind off it.”

 

I nodded.  “Okay.  Well, what should we do then?”

 

Grace thought for a moment, absently rubbing her fattening stomach.   A slow smile crept over her face, and some sparkle came to her dark eyes.

 

“What?” I asked, knowing she had something in mind.

 

She grinned.  “Let’s go to Baby Gap.”

 

***

 

A while later, Grace and I were browsing through the baby section of the Gap store at one of the local malls.  I couldn’t help but smile at a display of tiny bib overalls, and a rush of excitement jolted through me as I realized that in a matter of months, I would be dressing my own son or daughter in a pair of them.  

 

“Aww, look, Bri,” Grace said, tenderly stroking a little pair of soft pink booties.   “Aren’t they adorable?”

 

“Yeah,” I replied, grinning.  “Just think – two more months, and we’ll be putting some of these on a little pair of feet.”

 

Grace smiled, sighing happily.   “I can’t wait.”

 

“I know,” I agreed, returning her smile.  “Neither can I.”

 

***

 

Lyrics taken from ‘N Sync’s “Bye, Bye, Bye”

 

 

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