The Man Who Can't Be Moved

“How does a weekend in New York City sound?” Peyton inquires, as we stroll the Roberto Clemente Bridge arm in arm, sipping enormous take out cups of hot chocolate topped with glorious amounts of whipped cream and chocolate drizzle and basking -despite the still frigid temperatures and the occasional wicked gusts of air- in the brilliant sunshine that has managed to poke its way through the dreary, heavy blanket of clouds.

“Sounds like it could be trouble,” I reply with a mischievous grin. “Sounds like it could end up with you and me in Central Booking at the end of the night; or us bathing naked and deliriously drunk in Bethesda Fountain.”

“Em…” my best friend nods down at the slight baby bump that protrudes from her once disgustingly slender stomach. “Baby on board, remember?”

“It’s taking me forever to get used to this whole idea of Kristopher planting his demon seed inside of you,” I sigh. “I’m having a hard time adjusting, you know. I miss my favourite drinking buddy; I’m already tired of coming in second to baby Lepretty. Kid isn’t even out in the world yet and he’s already seriously cramping my style. I still say there’s more than one considering you’re already showing…”

“I’m bloated,” Peyton informs me. “I’m retaining a shit load of water already. It’s all water and no baby.”

“Or it’s barely any water and two babies,” I tease. “Or three. Or four.”

“Ultrasound showed there was just one,” she reminds me. “Only one heartbeat.”

“Well they also told Vero the first two ultrasounds that she was only have one and then they suddenly found two more when she went to her twenty week one. So for all you know, there could be something in the water or the Gatorade at Mellon Arena that’s enabling these guys to conceive all these multiples.”

“So what does that say for you than?” Peyton grins, and swigs her hot chocolate. “Does that mean when it’s your turn you’re going to pop out half a dozen at once? That you’re going have a whole litter of Talbot babies crammed into that tiny body of yours?”

“I’m going to knock out a whole starting line up at one time,” I confirm. “Max wants six kids when it’s all said and done and I’ve already told him that there’s no way in hell I’m ever going through labour and delivery half a dozen times. So we’re either having six at once, two sets of triplets, or three sets of twins. And that’s only if…” I give a small shrug and allow my voice to trail off.

I don’t want to get into a discussion about my current state of ‘internal affairs’; the high unlikelihood of conceiving and my inability to carry a baby past the first trimester. That’s all up to the doctors’ now; whether or not they can put the wonders of modern medicine to good use. In a way the uncertainty of my post-operation future is what is driving me to want a baby right now; I’d rather take my chances on having a baby right now than find out after the procedure is done that I’ll never have children . I feel as if I’m less of a wife because of it; as if I’ve let my husband down in some way. He deserves to have kids of his own and he’d willingly gone into a marriage and is prepared to spend ‘always and forever’ with someone that may never be able to give him babies. Men can never possibly understand how it makes us feel as ‘lesser women’ because of it. Max never ‘gets’ why I feel that way and always sees the glass as half full; he’s always so optimistic and quick with the pep talks and the reassurances that everything’s going to go fine with the operation. And never forgets to remind me that even if there is bad news at the end of it all and we can’t have kids biologically, that we can employ surrogates or adopt. He’s a lot like Sidney in that sense; neither understand why I’m so desperate to have a baby the ‘old fashioned way’ and neither of them feel as if never having their own flesh and blood is the end of the world.

Of course there’s another part of me that wants someone that I can call my own; someone that I can take care of and devote all of my time to and who will love me unconditionally and fill that empty hole in my heart the death of my first baby had left behind. I know that I should just get over; the pregnancy hadn’t been that far along and the heartache and grief would have been a thousand times worse if I’d been further along when I’d miscarried or if -like Max’s sister in law- I’d given birth to a stillborn baby after months of a seemingly perfect pregnancy. I just can’t seem to get over it; I just can’t seem to get a handle on the lingering sorrow and the prolonged sense of loss and I can’t seem to fully forgive myself for the role I’d played in everything going so nightmarishly long. A baby with Max would help erase some of that pain and guilt; it would help me forget about what had happened and complete me in a way I so desperately need.

“You know that having a baby right now is a terrible idea,” Peyton pipes up, worry clouding her usually vibrant eyes as she regards me closely.

“Suddenly you’re a mind reader?” I give an uneasy laugh and sip my hot chocolate.

Lying is futile; she’s always possessed the uncanny ability to see right through me and has never been afraid to call me out when I’m attempting to hide something from her. She’d been the only person I’d ever admitted my obsession with my future husband to; I’d admitted long before I ever stepped foot on that plane to Nova Scotia with Sidney that I wasn’t capable of staying away Max, that he had burrowed himself so deep under my skin that there was nothing I could do to get him out of there. Back then I’d never expected anything to come of it; I’d thought I’d just grow out of it as time went on and that being away from him and spending alone time with Sidney would force all thoughts of Max out of my mind. Unfortunately, being away from him and being unable to see him -regardless of how many times I’d told him that I had no feelings for him and insisted that he leave me alone and never contact me again- had only made my addiction worse. And had made things even more intense and powerful when things finally exploded between us.

“Lee-Lee…it’s all you can think about; it’s all you’ve been thinking about since you and Max got married. I know you think that it’s the right time for you; I know you think it’s what you really want and what you really need. But think about it from a strictly health related perspective, would you? Let’s not take into consideration the fact that I’m totally on Max’s side when it comes to you going back to school and feeling as if you only want a baby to replace the one you lost…”

“So now you and my husband are talking about me behind my back?” I scowl. “Do you two make it a common practice? Do you get together so you can compare notes on how fucked up I am? Do you sit down and plan out how you’re both going to gang up on me and…?”

“Em…” Peyton gives an exasperated sigh and squeezes my arm tightly. “It’s not like that at all. It’s not like we get together to gossip about you or laugh about you behind your back and we’re certainly not trying to gang up on you. We’re just…”

“You’re supposed to be on my side,” I grumble. “You’re not supposed to be in cahoots with him. You’re supposed to be the one that listens to me bitch and moan and rant and rave and gives me a shoulder to cry on when he’s done something completely stupid. You’re not supposed to…”

“Max and I are the two people in this world that are the closest to you,” Peyton gently interjects. “We’re the ones that love you unconditionally. All we want is what’s best for you. And if it hurts to hear that we both think that having a baby is the worst possible thing for you…”

“How could a baby be the worst possible thing?” I challenge. “How could anything so beautiful and innocent be so wrong? It’s not like I’m trying to get knocked up for pure shits and giggles; I’m not looking for some random hook up in hopes of getting pregnant. I want to have a baby with my husband. I want to…”

“He’s still going to be your husband in a couple of years from now,” she points out. “It’s not like you’re planning on leaving him or divorcing him before that, right?” she asks. “You don’t have some kind of time frame in your head, do you? Some kind of two year plan before you split?”

“That’s never going to happen,” I inform her. “Marriage is forever. I wouldn’t have ever gone through with it if I wasn’t prepared to spend the next fifty, sixty, seventy years with him.”

“So then what’s the big rush? Why are you so obsessed with this whole baby thing? Why is having one so soon of such dire importance to you? You’re nineteen years old, Em. You’re still a baby yourself and you’re still adjusting to life as a married woman. You’re still learning how to be a wife. Why would you want to take on even more stress and more responsibilities? Why can’t you just slow down and enjoy life? Why can’t you just put the whole baby thing on hold and just enjoy being with your husband. For Christsakes, Lee-Lee, you married Max Talbot; you managed to tame the beast. All you should be worrying about right now is having as much wild and crazy monkey sex as humanly possible.”

I can’t help but laugh at that.

“I know you feel left out,” she continues. “I know that it seems like it’s happening to everyone else BUT you. But you’re time is going to come, sweetie. And it’s going to come when both you AND Max are ready. Because he’s not ready. In any way, shape or form. And I don’t know how many times he has to drill that into your head. He’s not ready to be a daddy. All he wants is to be with you; he just wants to have you all to himself for a bit. I don’t think that’s too much to ask, do you? I mean, look at how much he’s changed for you; how different of a person he is. He went from being a notorious womanizer to a husband in the blink of an eye. That’s a huge leap for him. And it’s not fair of you to put so much pressure on him to commit to something he’s just not on board with. Give him that, okay? Give him time to be a little selfish instead of forcing daddy hood on the poor guy. Because if you do that, he’s not going to be into it; he’s not going to want to have anything to do with the pregnancy and then he’s going to wind up being resentful because you dumped something he didn’t want in his lap. You don’t want that. I know you don’t want that.”

“I just want what you have,” I admit. “I want what you have and I want Vero has and I want…”

“But you won’t have that if you pressure him into it,” Peyton remains adamant. “Kris and Marc are the way they are because they want their babies; they’re completely on board with it. Sure, it was a shock at first, but there wasn’t a time where they didn’t want the baby or where they felt trapped or forced into something they weren’t ready for. And if you keep on Max the way you are, he’s going to eventually cave just to make you happy and then he’s going to be a miserable bastard. He’s going to distance himself emotionally from you and the baby and then you’ll realize what a huge mistake you made and you won’t be able to take it back. Is that what you want? Is a baby that important? Do you want to have a baby so bad that you’d sacrifice your marriage for it?”

“Of course not. But…”

“You love him, Lee-Lee. I know you do. I know that he’s your be all and end all; your happily ever after and your always and forever. You don’t even need to tell me; I see it every time you look at him and every time you see him walk in the room or someone even mentions it’s name. It’s written all over your face. And you’ve changed too. Max has changed you. Do you want to lose that? Do you want to lose him? I’m not saying he’d ever walk out on you because you ended up pregnant before he was ready, but you’d lose him emotionally. And trust me, that would be more painful than him wanting out physically. Think about it this way; do you really want to spend the rest of your life as your mother? Do you really want to be stuck with someone like your dad? Who only stuck around because he felt obligated? Who’s still hanging in there only because he’s too settled and too comfortable to go anywhere else?”

“Max is nothing like my father,” I angrily inform her. “He’s as far from father as you can get. And for you to say something like that…”

“I wasn’t comparing him to your dad. I was just trying to make you see that…”

“That I’m in danger of making the biggest mistake of my life and that I’ll lose everything if I don’t let go of the whole baby thing,” I finish for her. “Fuck Peyton, I get it, okay? I totally get where you’re coming from. You don’t have to keep going on and fucking on. You don’t need to…”

“I do need to,” she interrupts. “I do need to because nothing your husband ever says or does gets through that thick fucking skull of yours. And I’m tired of having to listen to the poor guy worry about you and stress over every little goddamn thing. Do you have any idea what he’s been going through? How hard the past five months have been on him? How many times he had to stop himself from going to Montreal and bringing you back to Pittsburgh before you were ready? It was hell on him, Em. Max suffered just as much as you did. Do you think he wanted to be separated from you? Especially after you’d gotten married? Do you think he wanted to be away from his wife? Do you think it was a fucking picnic for him?”

“No…” I mutter. “I just think that…”

“It was hell on earth for him! It hurt like a bitch and he missed you every second of every day! But he did it for you! He knew that you needed to be in Montreal! He knew that you needed help and that you weren’t going to get better any other way. And now he has to worry about something bad happening to you or a baby because of everything you’ve got going on inside of you? It would kill him, Em. It would legit kill him if you guys lost a baby. It would destroy him if -God forbid- something went horrifically wrong he lost you. And you know I love you, right? You know you’re like a sister to me, right?”

I nod.

“Then forgive me when I ask you how, after everything he’s done and everything he’s sacrificed for you, how you can be so fucking selfish to not give a shit about how he feels or what he wants?”

Peyton’s words hit hard and cut deep; brutally honest yet completely on the mark. All of my life I’ve only ever worried about myself; I’ve only ever cared about my own wants and needs. Yet regardless of what she -or anyone else for that matter- may think, my behaviour has had more to do with self perseverance than selfishness. I’d never had anyone in my life legitimately concerned about me let alone wanting to take care of me; my parents were both emotionally absent and I’d had to learn to be self sufficient at a remarkably early age. This is all new to me; I’m not used to having someone so emotionally invested in my well being in the same way I’m not used to having to worry about someone else’s wants and needs and feelings. It’s yet another part of the learning process; another stepping stone on my way to adjusting to life as a wife.

**********

“Now let’s talk about New York City,” Peyton cheerfully suggests. She’s never been the type to incessant ride someone’s ass long after she’s dealt the final, lethal blow and the change in subject somewhat lessens the ache in my heart and quells the tsunami of tears that threaten to burst free.

“Why New York City?” I inquire, as I swallow a mouthful of hot chocolate in hopes of the now lukewarm liquid washing away the painful lump of emotion that sits square in my throat. “Why can’t we go somewhere tropical? Where we can lie by the pool all day and have hot and sexy sparsely tattooed Latin boys bringing us towels and drinks and smearing sunscreen all over our bodies.”

“I was thinking more along the lines of some serious retail therapy,” my best friend says. “How could you say no to Fifth Avenue? How could possibly say no to Tiffany’s and Versace and Gucci and lunch at Tavern on the Green and dinner at the Russian Tea Room?”

“I don’t exactly have that kind of money,” I remind her. “Max doesn’t make that much.”

“You’re not exactly poor, Lee-Lee. It’s not like going wild and crazy with the plastic in designer stores is going to force you guys to have to take out a second mortgage or see you eating your meals at a soup kitchen. And even if you do want to spare his pocket book and go easy on the credit cards, window shopping doesn’t cost a cent. And how can you honestly resist the chance to play dress up at Kleinfeld’s?”

“If I wanted to play ‘pin the dress on the bride’ I’d just talk into one of the wedding dress stores here and indulge myself,” I grumble.

While I don’t regret how quickly I’d married Max or in what fashioned I’d done it in -the candlelight ceremony had been romantic and quaint and he’d looked phenomenally hot in an exceptionally tailored Armani suit, black dress shirt and pink, silver and black striped tie with his hair freshly cut and his glasses perched upon his face- there’s a small part of me that’s disappointed that I’d missed out on the chance to wear an extravagant ‘Cinderella dress’. Although there’d certainly been nothing wrong with what I had worn: a floor length strapless pale pink satin gown with a long sleeved lace ‘over coat’ that I’d removed during our small reception and an antique crystal and pearl beaded hair comb that Max’s mother -she’d worn it for her own wedding, as had her mother, grandmother and great grandmother- had given me.

“But this is Kleinfeld’s,” Peyton stresses. “This is the mother of all exclusive bridal boutiques. And you are my maid of honour and I already went ahead and made an appointment to have a private consultation and…”

“I thought you already bought you dress. I thought you already picked something out here. I thought…”

“That was before I got pregnant. There’s no possible way that dress can be made any bigger. It’s a Vera Wang and it’s totally unforgiving and can’t be worn with even five extra pounds on me let alone thirty or forty. And I’m going to be nearly eight months when I waddle down the aisle, so…”

“Forget going to Kleinfeld’s. Why don’t we just go to the nearest sporting goods store and get you a tent,” I tease.

“I just think it would be a lot of fun,” Peyton rolls her eyes at my affectionate cheap shot. “We haven’t exactly spent a lot of time together lately, you know. It’s been one bad thing after another and then you were totally out of the country and practically out of touch while you where in that rehab place and now that you’re back….I’d just like to spend some time with you, Em. Just the two of us. Before the baby comes and I’m up to my ears in shitty diapers and covered head to toe in barf and trying to function on little to no sleep.”

“Oh come on…Lepretty isn’t that bad,” I chide. “I know men are just huge babies; all the whining and bitching and all the eating and shitting, but…”

“You know, as much as we bitch and moan about them, we really do love them,” Peyton grins. “We really would go insane without them. Can you honestly say that you’d be able to function without Max? That you wouldn’t die without him?”

“I’d be sane, but I’d be miserable,” I’d laugh, and then frown when I feel my cell phone -tucked into the pocket of my pea coat- vibrate against my body. “But you know what I am able to function without, P?” I ask, as I snag the offending object and check the call display. “You know what I’d be able to live without? That stupid bitch Oksana calling me constantly,” I press ignore on my phone and slip it back into my jacket. “She never lets up! She is always calling, always stopping by the house unannounced; she sends me email after emails and always wants to chat on MSN! Yesterday we went shopping at Ross Park Mall and she told me in Victoria‘s Secret that Max would find me much sexier in lingerie if I got rid of some of my -and I quote- ‘baby fat’.”

“You know, Lee-Lee, there are these things called restraining orders….”

“She is insufferable!” I huff. “She wants to be BFF’s! She wants to claim me and call me hers or some shit like that! She won’t leave me alone! You know it’s all a sneaky ploy of hers to get her claws into my husband, right? She’s trying to befriend me so she can get close to him. Have you seen some of the pictures of her, Max and Geno together? She’s cozier with my Max than she is with her own boyfriend! And never mind how she’s always touching him and flirting with him and…” I shudder. “I really hope the rumours that they shared her aren’t true. I normally don’t care about the women he’s been with, but her…I just can’t handle the thought of Max with her. Especially the thought of him and Geno with her at the same time.”

“I’ve heard the rumours,” Peyton confirms. “Whether or not any of them are true…”

“And you know what Max had the nerve to say when I asked him? You know what he actually had the stones to say? He told me ‘don’t worry about’,” I give a derisive snort. “He told me to worry it and that I’m ‘reading too much into things’. That she’s friendly and he’s always been naturally flirty and I’m just reading way too much into the way they are with each other. Ask me, that’s as good as admitting it.”

“Maybe she wants to have a threesome,” Peyton teases. “Maybe she’s into both of you.”

“All I know is that she needs to stay the fuck away from my man,” I huff. “That if she doesn’t stop pawing him and batting her big cow eyes at him all the time, I am seriously going to mess up her face. At least Carlisle stopped phoning me all the time. Now that….that was super creepy…”

“She’s leaving you alone because Sid dumped her,” Peyton says.

“Really?” my eyebrows arch and I attempt to keep from sounding too pleased with that piece of information. “When?”

“About a week ago. Apparently he’s seeing someone else. Someone that actually puts out. Kris says she’s a few years older than Sid; he met her at UPMC about a month ago when he went there to spend some time with the kids and I guess he gave her his number than but she didn’t call him until recently and…”

“What’s she like?” I inquire. “Have you met her? Has Lepretty met her?”

“All I know is that she’s been married once and her husband died a few years ago. She has a six year old son apparently.”

“Whoa…I guess the speculation is true…Sid does have a thing for women with lots of baggage.”

“She’s probably very nice,” Peyton says with a shrug. “Kris says it seems like Sid is nuts about her. Ask me, someone like that could be really good for him. Someone that’s older and more mature and established. Someone that will love him in the way he deserves to be loved.”

“Someone who can give him more than I could,” I conclude.

“What’s done is done,” my best friend reasons. “You can’t go back and change it. It happened, Em. And unfortunately when it did happen it was dirty and nasty and no one handled things in a good way. But…” she shrugs. “…who cares, right? What does it matter to you? You have your life and he has his. You wanted it that way.”

“It doesn’t matter to me,” I sound more defensive than I’d intended to. “I don’t care what Sid does. In the same way he doesn’t care what I do.”

“Come on…” Peyton squeezes my arm affectionately. “…you know that isn’t true. On both counts.”

I sigh heavily.

“It’s time to let it go,” she gently encourages. “It’s time to close that chapter. It’s time for the two of you to just put it all behind you. And the sooner you sit down face to face and do that…”

“It’ll happen,” I promise. “Soon. It’ll happen soon.”

“Good…” Peyton gives a firm, approving nod, and then regards me out of the corner of her eye. “Are you ready for that, Lee-Lee? Are you ready to close that chapter? Deep down do you really want to do it?”

“I honestly don’t know,” I admit.

It’s that uncertainty that scares me more than anything in the world.