Chasing Cars

The following week I worked up the courage to call Chris myself.

“I was wondering if you wanted to come over and have dinner with me tonight,” I asked him after the polite “how are you’s.”

“Yeah, sure,” he said. “That’d be great. What time?” he replied.

“I don’t know. Six maybe?”

“Six is perfect. I’ll be there.”

“Okay. Awesome. See you then.”

I ended up being really nervous for the rest of the day. I was kind of scared too. I missed him so much, and all I wanted to do was spend some time with him. I knew it would probably be easier on both of us if we stayed away from each other as much as possible. But I didn’t want that to happen. I knew even if I chose not to be part of our baby’s life, I still wanted to come around from time to time. I wanted to have a good relationship with him regardless of how it happened. I still wanted to see them. I just knew that there were people out there who could take better care of them both.

When I got home from work, I trudged up the stairs with my groceries. I was never really much of a cook, but I learned a bit more just from living with Chris. Since he was a vegetarian and 90% of the time we were sick of all the places that delivered nearby, sometimes we actually made things. I decided to go the safe route and get pasta. Anyone could cook pasta so long as they could boil water. And I happened to be really good at boiling water. It was still on the stove boiling when Chris got there. He let himself in the door and sent me a smile.

“Smells good,” he said, stepping into the kitchen.

“Thanks,” I replied.

He came up behind me and wrapped his arms around me. He rested his chin on my shoulder and put his hands on my growing stomach. I wanted to cry, but he didn’t hold on for very long. Maybe he was afraid I didn’t want him to touch me. Maybe he knew I was a giant ball of emotions and would probably cry. Maybe he just didn’t like being close to me. Either way, he let me go and went to the bag he’d set down on the counter.

“What’d you get?” I asked him as I stirred the jarred pasta sauce that was bubbling on the stove beside the noodles.

“Well, our regular drink of choice is probably out of the question, so I grabbed some Sprite instead. I read online that you’re not supposed to have caffeine either. So it seemed like a good idea.” He pulled the sodas out and set them on the counter.

“Sounds good,” I replied.

“How’ve you been?”

“I’ve been alright.”

“How’s the—baby?”

“Good. Nothing new to report. Still kicking the crap out of me.”

“Wish I could feel it.”

“You will soon. It gets stronger every day.”

“How are you doing?” he asked me quietly.

“Fine. I haven’t passed out or anything lately,” I told him. But then I felt his hand wrap around my wrist, and I looked up into his baby blue eyes.

“No. How ARE you?” I took a deep breath and looked back at the sauce.

“I feel like I’m falling apart, and I don’t know how to breathe.” He pulled my hair behind my ear, but I couldn’t look at his face because I didn’t want to see whatever expression he was making.

“That makes two of us.” I could tell by his voice that his expression would break my heart.

“What about you? How are you doing?” He shrugged lightly but left his hand on my cheek.

“Most of the time, I don’t feel like getting up in the morning. Sometimes, I don’t even bother.” I nodded and turned to pick up a small jar of oregano from the counter so he wouldn’t see my eyes glaze up.

“I know how you feel,” I whispered. He was silent for a moment. Then he got me on the cheek with a kiss and let me go.

“I think Mansquito is on tonight,” he said as he headed back into the living room. I laughed and wiped my eye.

“My favorite.”

“Want to watch it?”

“Sure. Why not?” He sat down on the couch and turned the TV on.

The house felt much warmer with him there. It felt like home again. Technically it was in my name, but we found it together. It was OUR apartment. I hated myself for making him leave. Sometimes I wanted to call and beg him to come home. I would keep the baby. We could be a family just as long as we were together, but then I realized how selfish that would be. If I was going to keep the baby, I wanted it to be because I wanted the baby. Not because I couldn’t imagine my life without its father.

When the pasta was done, I made some plates and brought them out to the living room.

“Thanks,” Chris said when I handed him one. I smiled and went back for the sodas he brought. Then we sat down and watched Mansquito.

When we were done eating, I got up to clean the plates off. Chris helped me, and I tried to pretend I was having fun and not that my heart hurt a whole lot. Once everything was cleaned up, we returned to the couch to finish the movie. I somehow ended up curled up against him. He had his hand on my knee, and the other wrapped tightly around me. But when the movie finished, I pulled him closer to me and rested my head on his chest.

“Please don’t leave me tonight?” I begged him. He held me close for a moment before speaking.

“I’m really afraid of how much it will hurt when I have to leave in the morning,” he said. I wanted to tell him not to leave, but I knew it was probably best if I didn’t. At least until I had a real answer to give him. But my heart betrayed me, and I sobbed before I could stop myself.

“I’m really afraid of how much it will hurt if you leave right now,” I said. I was fully crying now. So he lifted my chin and held my face between his hands.

“Why are you doing this to me?” he asked. And I cried harder. I didn’t know how to answer, and I hated how hurt his face looked. I knew that was the expression I had been avoiding.

“Because—I want my reasons to be MY reasons.”

“I don’t understand.”

“I don’t want to stay just because I want to be with you. I’m afraid I’ll resent the baby like my mom did to me. So I want to stay BECAUSE of the baby.” He was silent for a moment as he chewed on his lip and fought back that sad expression.

“Why can’t you just try it out? Give motherhood a shot?”

“I can’t,” I whined. “I don’t want it to get attached to me. It’ll hurt worse for the both of us if I do that.” He took a deep breath.

“Then I don’t think staying the night is such a good idea, Marley.”

“Please? Please don’t leave me tonight?” I held his face like he was holding mine so that he couldn’t look away from me. “Please, please?” I begged. Then I kissed him on the lips, and he kissed me right back. It was one of those really passionate kisses you see in movies where people are crying their eyes out but still kissing each other. Only it was probably a lot less pretty because I could taste my own tears, and I couldn’t breathe.

“How could I possibly say no?” he asked when I finally let him go to catch my breath. I laughed lightly through my tears.

“Will you be mad if I try to seduce you?” He laughed in response and kissed me gently on the lips.

“No, I was going to try to seduce you anyway.”