Sequel: The Beat Goes On ›
After Tonight
In This Life
Breathe.
I knocked and my dad answered quickly. I hadn’t realized it was so late—he was probably wondering who the hell would be knocking on his door at ten-thirty. He looked weary, his pajamas were rumpled and his glasses were a tad crooked.
“Abbey, what are you doing here?” He ushered me in. The apartment was quiet, not even the television was on. The only light came from a table lamp beside the couch.
“I’m sorry Dad, I didn’t think about the time.” I dragged my suitcase behind, resting it against the wall. “I didn’t mean to wake you.”
“Oh, I was just sitting out here…thinking.” The wrinkles across his forehead became more evident as he knitted his brow.
“Is everything alright?” It was a pointless question. Fix my troubles, he would. Fix his own, never.
“I should be asking you the same question.” We’d moved into the kitchen and Dad was assembling his emergency kit—Entemen’s chocolate doughnuts and medium roast coffee.
Over the years, it had become our recipe for solving life’s problems. From middle school cliques to unrequited crushes. From getting cut from a sports team to a prom night from Hell. Once I’d gotten out on my own, I substituted red wine for coffee and doughnuts—healthier for the heart of course—but nothing seemed to do the trick quite like doughnuts and coffee with my dad.
“So are you going to tell me?” Dad had scooped the grounds into the filter and wiped his fingers on his pajama pants.
“I’m pregnant.” With my dad, it was always better to get right to the point.
“Should I congratulate you?” He looked at me hesitantly, adjusting his glasses. They were still crooked, but I kept to myself.
“If you want.” I fumbled for my words. “I mean, I’m keeping it so yeah…that would be nice.”
“Are you sure this is what you want?” He handed me a mug of steaming coffee. We took our seats at the table across from one another.
“It feels right, ya’ know? And I don’t have the heart to get rid of it.”
“Well congratulations then.” He held up his chocolate doughnut and tapped it against mine—his own version of Cheers. “Rob doesn’t want you to keep it, does he?”
“Nope. We didn’t fight about it though. He just told me that if this is what I wanted, he wasn’t going to stop me.” I broke my doughnut into pieces on the tabletop and nibbled on the bigger half. “He’s in Vancouver for a few months.”
“Then the engagement is off?” My dad looked worried, but he took a sip of coffee and tried to smile encouragingly. Truth be told, I hadn’t even thought about that. “Or do you think he’ll come around?”
Oh God.
What if he didn’t? I left him in our apartment feeling hopeful, feeling that fate would have another card to play and Rob would change his mind. But what if we were really done for good? I mean, I knew what I had done the minute I told him I was keeping the baby. I just didn’t really process the fact that he and I would never fall asleep beside one another again.
Oh God.
I closed my eyes.
***
There he was, standing on the curb completely clueless as how to hail a cab. Snow was stuck in his disheveled hair and a look of sheer shock was across his face as I shamelessly planted one on his lips. But then he smiled that warm, crooked smile—the one that reached his eyes.
***
It was the first time he held my hand, and as childish as it sounds, my hand felt like it was made for him to hold. Then he kissed me. He kissed me because he couldn’t stop himself, because I was something he had to have—had to mark his claim on before anyone else could. When he pulled away, he looked like he’d been caught with his hand in the cookie jar—an analogy only a baker would take pleasure in.
***
I could feel his lips on my collarbone, trailing down as he tangled his fingers in my hair. We were in my bed, my legs wrapped around his waist as his hands slid down my back. That purple dress was carelessly strewn across the dresser beside his own clothes. He was different. He was tender, careful with me as if I would shatter in his grasp. But like with everything else he did, he was passionate, mind-blowingly passionate.
***
Rob’s back was to me as we lay in bed. He hadn’t spoken a word since we checked out of the hospital. I whispered his name to the quiet room—I knew he wouldn’t answer, but he had to know. I told him what it felt like seeing him there, blood matting his hair to his face and rivers of red trickling down his cheeks to his neck. I told him that the air smelled like rusty iron and that the world outside had frozen. I told him that at that point, if he wasn’t making it out neither was I. Had he heard any of it? Did he feel me wrap my arms around him and kiss his bare shoulder?
***
The sand was cold, the moon lit up the ocean ahead of us. We were a little drunk, a little curious—was real sex on the beach as good as the drink—and above all, quite enamored with one another. I giggled hysterically, telling him to keep quiet as he laid me onto my back. He silenced my worries with a rough kiss and lowered himself on top of me. But then he just stared at me. He propped himself up on his elbows and looked into my eyes, a goofy grin on his lips. I asked him what he was looking at and he simply stated, “Everything.”
***
The ring fit on my finger perfectly and I casually flexed my hand across the tabletop to look at it throughout breakfast. Rob’s parents insisted on meeting mine, so they arranged a breakfast date. It was horrendous. Whatever could go wrong did go wrong, but I hardly heard a word. I was too busy watching Rob. He shifted in his seat as his mum said she wanted us to live in London, and when my mom said she wanted us to stay in the city. She quickly corrected herself and said that she wanted us to live wherever it was suitable to raise a family. Rob looked like he had jumped into a pool full of upward-facing daggers. "I’ll live with you inside of a refrigerator box alongside a dirt road in Guam,” I told him as we waited for our parents to make their way to the cab. Rob grinned as he kissed my neck, asking me how soon we could leave. And then he whispered something dirty he’d like to do to me when we finally had the flat to ourselves for good measure.
***
Oh God.
What had I done?
I stood up from the table, leaving my dad alone to finish up. Between an onslaught of tears and banging my knees on the coffee table, I fished my cell phone out of my purse. I was going to make this right.
But nobody answered.
I knocked and my dad answered quickly. I hadn’t realized it was so late—he was probably wondering who the hell would be knocking on his door at ten-thirty. He looked weary, his pajamas were rumpled and his glasses were a tad crooked.
“Abbey, what are you doing here?” He ushered me in. The apartment was quiet, not even the television was on. The only light came from a table lamp beside the couch.
“I’m sorry Dad, I didn’t think about the time.” I dragged my suitcase behind, resting it against the wall. “I didn’t mean to wake you.”
“Oh, I was just sitting out here…thinking.” The wrinkles across his forehead became more evident as he knitted his brow.
“Is everything alright?” It was a pointless question. Fix my troubles, he would. Fix his own, never.
“I should be asking you the same question.” We’d moved into the kitchen and Dad was assembling his emergency kit—Entemen’s chocolate doughnuts and medium roast coffee.
Over the years, it had become our recipe for solving life’s problems. From middle school cliques to unrequited crushes. From getting cut from a sports team to a prom night from Hell. Once I’d gotten out on my own, I substituted red wine for coffee and doughnuts—healthier for the heart of course—but nothing seemed to do the trick quite like doughnuts and coffee with my dad.
“So are you going to tell me?” Dad had scooped the grounds into the filter and wiped his fingers on his pajama pants.
“I’m pregnant.” With my dad, it was always better to get right to the point.
“Should I congratulate you?” He looked at me hesitantly, adjusting his glasses. They were still crooked, but I kept to myself.
“If you want.” I fumbled for my words. “I mean, I’m keeping it so yeah…that would be nice.”
“Are you sure this is what you want?” He handed me a mug of steaming coffee. We took our seats at the table across from one another.
“It feels right, ya’ know? And I don’t have the heart to get rid of it.”
“Well congratulations then.” He held up his chocolate doughnut and tapped it against mine—his own version of Cheers. “Rob doesn’t want you to keep it, does he?”
“Nope. We didn’t fight about it though. He just told me that if this is what I wanted, he wasn’t going to stop me.” I broke my doughnut into pieces on the tabletop and nibbled on the bigger half. “He’s in Vancouver for a few months.”
“Then the engagement is off?” My dad looked worried, but he took a sip of coffee and tried to smile encouragingly. Truth be told, I hadn’t even thought about that. “Or do you think he’ll come around?”
Oh God.
What if he didn’t? I left him in our apartment feeling hopeful, feeling that fate would have another card to play and Rob would change his mind. But what if we were really done for good? I mean, I knew what I had done the minute I told him I was keeping the baby. I just didn’t really process the fact that he and I would never fall asleep beside one another again.
Oh God.
I closed my eyes.
***
There he was, standing on the curb completely clueless as how to hail a cab. Snow was stuck in his disheveled hair and a look of sheer shock was across his face as I shamelessly planted one on his lips. But then he smiled that warm, crooked smile—the one that reached his eyes.
***
It was the first time he held my hand, and as childish as it sounds, my hand felt like it was made for him to hold. Then he kissed me. He kissed me because he couldn’t stop himself, because I was something he had to have—had to mark his claim on before anyone else could. When he pulled away, he looked like he’d been caught with his hand in the cookie jar—an analogy only a baker would take pleasure in.
***
I could feel his lips on my collarbone, trailing down as he tangled his fingers in my hair. We were in my bed, my legs wrapped around his waist as his hands slid down my back. That purple dress was carelessly strewn across the dresser beside his own clothes. He was different. He was tender, careful with me as if I would shatter in his grasp. But like with everything else he did, he was passionate, mind-blowingly passionate.
***
Rob’s back was to me as we lay in bed. He hadn’t spoken a word since we checked out of the hospital. I whispered his name to the quiet room—I knew he wouldn’t answer, but he had to know. I told him what it felt like seeing him there, blood matting his hair to his face and rivers of red trickling down his cheeks to his neck. I told him that the air smelled like rusty iron and that the world outside had frozen. I told him that at that point, if he wasn’t making it out neither was I. Had he heard any of it? Did he feel me wrap my arms around him and kiss his bare shoulder?
***
The sand was cold, the moon lit up the ocean ahead of us. We were a little drunk, a little curious—was real sex on the beach as good as the drink—and above all, quite enamored with one another. I giggled hysterically, telling him to keep quiet as he laid me onto my back. He silenced my worries with a rough kiss and lowered himself on top of me. But then he just stared at me. He propped himself up on his elbows and looked into my eyes, a goofy grin on his lips. I asked him what he was looking at and he simply stated, “Everything.”
***
The ring fit on my finger perfectly and I casually flexed my hand across the tabletop to look at it throughout breakfast. Rob’s parents insisted on meeting mine, so they arranged a breakfast date. It was horrendous. Whatever could go wrong did go wrong, but I hardly heard a word. I was too busy watching Rob. He shifted in his seat as his mum said she wanted us to live in London, and when my mom said she wanted us to stay in the city. She quickly corrected herself and said that she wanted us to live wherever it was suitable to raise a family. Rob looked like he had jumped into a pool full of upward-facing daggers. "I’ll live with you inside of a refrigerator box alongside a dirt road in Guam,” I told him as we waited for our parents to make their way to the cab. Rob grinned as he kissed my neck, asking me how soon we could leave. And then he whispered something dirty he’d like to do to me when we finally had the flat to ourselves for good measure.
***
Oh God.
What had I done?
I stood up from the table, leaving my dad alone to finish up. Between an onslaught of tears and banging my knees on the coffee table, I fished my cell phone out of my purse. I was going to make this right.
But nobody answered.