Mollywood (20 page)

“Are you sure?” I turned back to the tech in what seemed like slow motion. It felt like I was outside of myself, and was vaguely aware of Molly sniffling beside me.

“Yeah…he’s not being shy about it.” The tech replied with a rueful grin.

“Ahhh. He already takes after his daddy.” Molly giggled, but her voice trembled with emotion. I just blinked at her, completely dumbstruck. My mind raced at the thought of wagon rides and tossing the football in the back yard. It seemed unbelievable, even with the evidence right there in front of my eyes. I wasn’t sure whether to laugh or cry at the thought of having another son.

“Well, alright then…” the tech mused, unable to repress an appreciative smile at Molly’s dig. “Let’s move on to Baby B.”

The image on the screen continued to be the first baby as my boy seemed to be showing off for the camera. It took a bit of finagling on the techs part but she finally revealed the second baby, a tiny thing sucking its thumb. She repeated her thorough measurements and finally exhaled loudly.

“This little one’s a bit shyer, but I finally have a clear picture. Congratulations. She’s a girl,” the tech looked back at us with a wide smile.

My heart thundered in my ears. I felt lightheaded and knew a stupid grin was plastered across my face. I turned to look at Molly, and saw tears standing in her sky blue eyes. She looked at me and smiled. When she blinked her dark lashes, matching tears streamed down both of her rosy cheeks. In that moment, all I could think about was how beautiful she was. Even her glistening tears were as perfectly symmetrical as a Monarch butterfly’s wings.

“So I guess we’ll call them Luke and Leia instead.” I quipped, and Molly giggled, in spite of her tears.

Later in the apartment, Molly slept with her head nestled on my lap, and my hand resting gently on the curve of her stomach. A boy and a girl. The news had sent a shockwave through my system. The love for them consumed me and I wasn’t prepared at all for its intensity. Each milestone in the pregnancy just made things that much more real and I seemed incapable of coping. The nagging voice of doom in the back of my head had begun taunting me with self-doubt before we even left the parking lot.

The babies shifted under my hand and my heart leapt in wonder. Beneath my palm the wiggling stilled and Molly stirred in her sleep. Reaching down I pulled the blanket up to her shoulder and she settled back. Gently, I slid out from beneath her head, gliding a pillow into my place. I thought she might wake at my movement, but she must have been more exhausted than I had realized. She turned over and stilled under the blanket.

I went to the kitchen and grabbed a beer out of the fridge. Slipping out of the apartment I ended up on the roof. The patio I had built up there was one of Molly’s favorite places. She hadn’t been up there in a while, and I guessed the stairs were probably getting to be too much for her. Sitting down, I kicked my feet up and watched cars driving in the distance. The ice cold beer calmed the burning in my throat, too bad I couldn’t have poured it into my chest.

My heart ached with so many conflicting emotions; I felt like it would tear itself to pieces. Joy rolled to a rapid boil at the thought of the two little ones growing inside Molly. It was swiftly followed by a swirling tangle of pain because of the memories that this journey stirred up. It was hard to think about a future with my son and daughter without thinking about the infant boy that I had lost.

Jack was alive for twenty seven minutes outside of Jessica’s body. Twenty seven minutes of desperate struggle for life. I remember one of the doctors telling another that he was shocked the baby had been able to survive as long as he had. They tried to keep me from hearing the truth, but Tamryn fought for me to get a copy of the autopsy. I got to see it in the end and it seemed to confirm my worst suspicions. Hypoxia. Lack of oxygen. I did that to him. I fucked up and because of it my boy died. I picked his lying mother when forced to choose between them. I made the worst mistake of my life that day and because of that the son that might have been right here sitting beside me died in an antiseptic smelling hospital room.

The day replayed itself as it always did when I allowed myself think about it. Jessica had severe brain bleeding. The doctors had needed to act. The choice was made pretty clear. They operate and save one at risk to the other. I thought if Jess was okay the baby would be too. Part of me knew what I was doing. The chicken shit coward that was afraid of being left alone with a baby, that pathetic coward, made the call; and because I let him I was left without either of them.

Sitting on the roof looking out at the city, I let tears flow down my face while I drank the beer. I could see Jack in my mind just as clearly as if he’d lived. Dressed in a little league uniform, a Halloween costume, Boy Scout camping gear.

For years, I’d be minding my business, at the park or in the mall and I’d encounter other children and imagine my son’s face. I had told the doc about it and he’d pressed me to talk about it at length. He never really said anything more about it, just asked questions. Most of the work we did at his office seemed directed toward getting me to deal with my shit with varying results.

The private visit between him and Molly set my god damn teeth on edge. Part of me wanted to know what they talked about. Another part dreaded knowing, and I was glad I’d left the room. Was she finally getting a pictured of what damaged goods she was stuck with? If so, that might explain why she seemed to have no interest in getting married. I can understand not wanting to get married right away. But to just flat out refuse and act like it was a stupid idea…how the fuck was I supposed to take that?

My beer was empty, but I didn’t feel like going back downstairs. Being in the apartment with Molly felt too intimate just then…too claustrophobic. I needed to decompress a little. Up here, at least for a bit longer, I could pretend that my life was less complicated. That the woman I loved
wanted
to marry me and was happy to be having my babies.

The way I felt about Molly was beyond what I had ever imagined love to be. The fact that she made comparisons, and somehow felt she was inferior to my dead wife, was crazy to me. My relationship with Jess had been childishly uncomplicated and I realized that part of me mourned the simplicity of what we had. Thinking about Jess like that irritated me. It was like part of her was stuck in me like a jagged shard of glass. A sliver of pain that twisted from time to time just to remind me it was there. Pain laced with shame and self-recrimination.

The guilt that haunted me was shoved rudely aside by something far worse, truth. The painful realization that I had never really known Jess, at least not like I knew Molly. The difference was that I wanted to know Molly better every day. We had learned more about each other in the time we had been reacquainted than I had ever known about Jess.

I could lie to myself and say that my marriage to Jess, all of our happiness, had just been a delusion. But it wasn’t true. The truth, as hard as it was to swallow, was that I hadn’t been in love with Jess. At the time I had thought I was in love, that
we
were in love. We had fun together, were compatible, and had a good relationship. But when I compared it to what I had with Molly it was a feeble candle next to a roaring bonfire.

Molly and I were equals. She didn’t bullshit me or try to handle me like Jess had. She was honest and let the chips fall where they may. Life was more tumultuous with her, but better than it ever had been.

The view from the roof suddenly was a lot less appealing. I had the overwhelming desire to hold Molly in my arms. Things might not be perfect between us. Hell, they probably never would be. But I would take the most fucked up day with her versus the best day without her. Tossing my beer in the trash near the stairs and headed back inside to take Molly to bed.

A few days later, I had been work in the shop trying to perfect a hand carved buffet table when Francis called back to tell me that I had a visitor. I thought this was weird, because most people I know would have just come on back to where I was working. The pointed way that Francis announced this, coupled with the fact that Mac had suddenly disappeared put me on high alert. When I rounded the buffet and got in view of the counter, I could see what had everyone on edge. The man standing at the counter looked as out of place in my shop as a banker in a stockyard.

My father was dressed in what he considered ‘business casual’. Tan slacks with a crease you could slice bread with, paired with a button down starched cotton shirt. He had a red handkerchief stuck in his breast pocket and was holding a tan hat in his hand. Though I’d rarely seen him costumed in this manner, I understood that for my father this was authentic, traditional apology gear. He was literally showing up with a hat in his hand. I was instantly annoyed at his theatrics, and I suppressed the urge to turn on my heel and walk back to my workstation. Regardless of what he wanted to talk about, it was better to get it all out of the way. I had enough rubble to sift through without adding parental bullshit to the mix.

“Hello, dad. What can I do for you? Looking for a custom desk perhaps?” He smiled ruefully and though I was totally validated for calling him out, I felt like a dumbass. He shook his head.

“Hello, Joe. No, I don’t need any wood work done, thought from what I keep hearing, it sounds like you would be the best one to do it.” The compliment was unexpected and his humble demeanor was off putting. He defied every notion I’d formed of him, and it actually pissed me off. I’d grown comfortable with my father being a dark and distant figure in my life. Any alternative meant retraining my overburdened brain, and I was pretty sure I didn’t have the reserves for that.

He seemed nervous. My father had
never
been anything other than confident. Seeing him off balance had me concerned.

“Is something wrong?”

He looked up at my alarmed tone of voice and waved his hand with a small shake of his head.

“What? Oh, no…no there isn’t anything wrong.” He paused, and took a deep breath. “I know you’re busy, son, but I wondered if you might have time to grab a little lunch with me?” His fingers tightly gripped the hat in his hands, seeming to unconsciously clench and unclench. It was obvious that being here took real effort.

I glanced over at Francis who gave me a meaningful look. It was no surprise that a guy working so diligently to patch up things with his daughter would encourage me to do the same with my estranged dad. Rolling my eyes and shooting Francis a knowing glance, I dropped the tool I was holding on the table.

“Francis? You mind putting that back for me? Just put it on my workbench. I’ll be back in a little bit.” He dutifully scooped up the chisel.

“Sure thing, Joe. Take your time. We’ll hold down the fort.” Francis responded. Turning back to my father, I motioned toward the door and followed him out onto the sidewalk.

I led him down the block to the bakery. They did a decent lunch, so we placed our order and took a number and our drinks outside. Without discussing it, we chose the covered patio for a modicum of privacy. My father was famous for his showboating, but when it came to family, he was private like me.

We banded around some small talk until the food arrived.

“So this dinner with Molly’s family.” He suddenly shifted gears, “I hope you’re okay with it. Tamryn is a bit zealous about the entire thing, which naturally comes as no surprise.”

Tamryn never shied away from what she wanted. Hell, it was her need to explore our Jewish heritage that spurred us to enter public school her senior year, I was in eighth grade, and all I cared about was that my Lacrosse buddies said the girls in public school were all easy.

“It’s time y’all met.” I agreed, trying to hide my distaste at the thought that Molly and I might not end up having a wedding for them to toast at. “Better now than at the babies’ graduation.”

“I must confess, I’ve been dying to meet the Hildebrandt’s since you started getting into trouble with the twins in high school.” He continued, seemingly oblivious to my stilted response.