One Last Lie (19 page)

Angela twisted her head in a painstakingly slow movement until her eyes met Jonathan’s. Her eyes were on fire and he could feel the pores on the back of his neck draining perspiration. He opened his mouth to say something in his defense, but no sound escaped. “Jonathan.” Philip’s soothing voice called from somewhere in the distance. “Jonny!” Jonathan broke his stare with Angela and turned to Philip, whose face held a look of concern.

“Angela,” Philip walked around the table and sat in the chair beside her. “Why would you do that? The three of us discussed it and decided to wait until the baby was born. That’s not fair.”

Angela turned her head away from Jonathan, and as she did so, her demonic expression changed to an angelic smile. She used the dishtowel to wipe away the jelly from her fingers, then touched Philip’s cheek with her fingertips.

“Don’t look so serious, Philip.” She brushed his face with the back of her fingers, leaving a trail of powdered sugar. “It’s not such a big deal. And if you think about it, now we can start buying things specifically for a boy. Since we know it’s a boy, we can start planning for a boy.”

Philip moved his gaze to Jonathan, who was placing dishes back on the table, then he turned back to Angela. “That’s not the point, Angie. The point is we’re in this together, right?” He waited for Angela’s nod. “And if we all decide on something and then one person changes their mind and does something without telling the others, it’s not a threesome anymore. It’s one person making a decision for all of us.” She nodded again. “If you wanted to know the sex of the baby, you should have said so from the beginning. I’m sure we’d have worked with it.” He put his hand around hers and brought it down to her lap. “The big deal isn’t that you know the baby’s a boy, it’s that you found out
without
us and then sprang it on us while we were still hoping to keep it a surprise.”

Angela clutched Philip’s hand and wrapped her other hand around them both.

“I’m sorry,” her voice was shaking with emotion. “I screwed up. I know we discussed it and I know we made a decision together. But my hormones are going crazy and I can’t take my pills because I’m pregnant and I…” Her breathing had become labored and tears dribbled down her cheeks. “I won’t do it again. I promise.”

She leaned into Philip, who held her sobbing head in his hands.

“What pills?” asked Jonathan, now standing behind her, arms crossed. “What pills can’t you take, Angela?”

She buried her head deeper into Philip’s chest. “Zoloft,” she sobbed. “I can’t take my Zoloft because I’m pregnant.”

Philip took hold of her shoulders and gently pushed her back. Her eyes were almost swollen shut, her lips dry and cracked. “Are you saying you were on an antidepressant and never told us?”

She wiped her eyes with the palms of both hands. Jonathan glared at the back of her head, knowing if he walked to the other side and looked her in the eyes, the devil inside him would appear and ruin any chance of reconciliation.

“I went off it so I could become pregnant.” She stood, holding onto the table for support , and walked into the kitchen. She blew her nose into a paper towel and gently rubbed her stomach. “I haven’t taken a pill in five months. I stopped before insemination, so there’s no need to worry about the baby, he’s fine. You’ve been to all my exams with me, you
know
he’s fine.”

“Yeah, but you’re not,” Jonathan said, almost under his breath.

“What?” Angela placed her hands on her hips. “What, Jonathan? If you have something to say, please just spit it out. Whispering to yourself only makes you look crazy.”

Jonathan’s teeth were clenched and his neck muscles tightened. “I said, you’re
not
fine.” He extended his arm and moved it around slowly. “This house is a mess and you’re a mess. And it’s because you’re not taking the pills you should be taking. Pills you never told us you needed. You lied to us, again, for Christ’s sake.”

“Jonathan!” Philip stood and walked toward him. “I know this isn’t good, but let’s just…”

“Let’s just what?” Jonathan grabbed his coat. “You want to sit around and find out what else she’s lied to us about? I have to get out of here.”

“Jonny, hold on a second. We have to talk this out.”

Jonathan zipped his coat and looked at Angela. She stood in the kitchen, staring back at him without expression or excuses. “You asked me about regrets this morning, remember?”

“Yeah, I remember,” Philip said with his hands in his pockets.

“Well, now I have it. A regret like I’ve never felt before, and I have to tell you, it feels
beyond
shitty.”

He threw open the door and the biting air slapped him in the face. The temperature had dropped at least ten degrees since they first arrived; dense, gray clouds covered the sun and cold, moist air settled on his face. He eyed their SUV, then looked up and down the block, unsure where he was going or what he had hoped to accomplish by storming out.

For a fleeting moment his anger focused on the words “it’s a boy.” From the first moment Angela said she was pregnant, he’d wanted a boy. But he never got his hopes up, keeping his primary focus on making sure the baby was healthy and well taken care of. He would’ve loved a baby girl. She’d be a part of him and he a part of her. But now that the uncertainty was gone, a new kind of electricity ran through him — excitement and paternal pride. As the wind picked up around him, he wasn’t sure whether the chills came from excitement or the intense cold.

He kicked the toe of his boot against the ice crystallizing across the porch steps. He had a hissy fit and now he was standing alone, wondering if he’d overreacted:
If the house wasn’t in such shambles, would I have reacted this way?
If she didn’t also have a Zoloft addiction problem, could I have forgiven her for going behind our backs and finding out the sex of the baby?

Being hit with three bombshells at once was more than he could handle. He liked things predictable and certain; leaving surprises and spontaneity for emergencies. But standing on the icy porch, shivering and alone, Jonathan knew he had to change — and fast. He was about to have a son and overreacting or storming out of the house when his child did something upsetting wasn’t going to work. Another bombshell — he was the adult and needed to start acting like one. And now he realized Angela was still a child. No doubt she’d disappointed him and actually lied to them, but he had to dig deeper, to understand her motivation and let her know he was on her side and would do what he could to help. As Philip said, they were all in this together and he had to take the good with the bad.

When he turned to walk back to the door, Philip was leaning against the living room window, smiling, his tongue sticking out and wagging like a puppy waiting for food.

Jonathan ducked his head to hide his laughter. “Great! I’ve got three freakin’ kids to deal with.”

15

Philip’s mind was somewhere else, far away from the income statements, balance sheets, and piles of other financial reports stacked up on his desk. His thoughts were in Florida, lying on a lounge chair on the sands of South Beach — a cosmo in one hand and Jonathan’s hand in the other, soaking up the blistering Florida sun. In two and a half days they’d leave for a four-day pass: a quick escape from the daily grind and a shot of relaxation before Angela entered her final trimester and would need them around even more than she did now.

Both he and Jonathan needed a few days to get used to the news Angela threw at them the week before. Not only did she hide the fact that she’d been on Zoloft, she also went behind their backs to find out the baby’s sex. These “sins of omission” concerned him, although he took them a lot better than Jonathan. What really worried him was the weight she’d gained. When he first saw her standing behind the screen door that day, he flashed back to when they first met and she was ten-times the size of the Angela he’d reacquainted with a year ago. Of course, she hadn’t reached that previous weight yet, but who knew what would happen during the remaining three months of pregnancy.

Plus, her recent attitude made the hairs on the back of his neck crawl; spidery sensations reminiscent of the way he felt after they’d had the final argument more than fifteen years ago. He’d spent the night before trying to convince Jonathan not to regret the choice they made, while he was barely able to convince himself.

“What if she’s crazy?” Jonathan had asked, pacing the livingroom and drinking his vodka martini a little too quickly. “What if we got ourselves involved with a nut? We have a baby inside that nut! What are we supposed to do now?”

Philip rolled his eyes and dropped the skewer holding three olives into his martini glass. Closing his eyes, he took a larger-than-normal sip and let the warmth of the liquor seep into his veins. He walked to the loveseat closest to the sliding doors. “Jonny, sit down.”

“Philip, don’t try to calm me down. We might’ve really screwed up.”

“Jesus Christ!” Philip shouted. “Will you please just sit down?”

Jonathan’s expression turned from worry to complete surprise. And Philip knew why: he almost never raised his voice during their discussions. But this time was different because he was afraid that Jonathan’s fears made real sense and deep down it made him angry.

“Jonny, can you pull yourself together enough to think through this logically? First of all, she’s pregnant. We already know women are crazy
before
they get pregnant, and now the hormones are going haywire. Second, she’s not on her antidepressant anymore.” He held up his hand, stopping Jonathan who was trying to interrupt. “I know, she never told us she was on Zoloft.
I
think it’s because she was embarrassed about it. Yeah, it was like a sin of omission. It’s not like we asked her if she was taking drugs and she said no. She just never told us. I’m not condoning it, I’m just saying we have to consider she might’ve been ashamed to mention it.”

Jonathan sat on the edge of the loveseat opposite Philip, biting his lip.

“And lastly,” Philip held his breath and after a few seconds, exhaled loudly through his nose, “the baby’s a boy for Christ’s sake! Can’t we be happy about it instead of being paranoid that she purposely went behind out backs to find out the baby’s sex? She said she was at doctor Jarrett’s and just couldn’t help herself. The explanation might be that simple.” He gently grasped the stem of his martini glass and took a sip. “The way I see it, this all comes down to hormones, shame, and more hormones. Something we’ll never really be able to experience.”

Jonathan switched from a posture of attack to one of submission, slouching into the corner of the loveseat and gazing at the ceiling. He didn’t say a word.

“Maybe I should shout more often,” Philip joked.

“Don’t even think about that! It’s just that you might be right.”

Philip grabbed the left side of his chest, feigning a heart attack. “What? Can it be? Did you say I was right? I don’t think my heart can take this.”

Jonathan smirked. “Cut the shit, Philip. I didn’t say you
were
right, I said that you
might
be right. She definitely has a lot of stress, hormones, and all the other crap that goes along with being pregnant. Plus, she’s in a new home with a new job. I guess we’ll have to cut her some slack.”

They sat in silence for a few seconds before Jonathan sat up again. “I guess the weight thing freaked me out the most. I remember how she looked the first time I met her, and even just a few months ago. She was thin, pretty and looked… well… refined. And now, I don’t know, she looks so different. Not to mention her house is a pig sty. Our son will not live in a pig sty.”

“What did we just finish saying, Jonathan? More likely than not, she’ll change again after the baby is born. Once her hormones get back to normal and her Zoloft kicks back in, all will be well.”

Holding his glass aloft, Jonathan walked over to Philip. He clinked Philip’s glass and held his own up in the air as though making a toast. “I hope you’re right. I really do.” He kissed the side of Philip’s head “I did this for us, you know. How many times have we fantasized about you, me, and a little boy we could raise together? It’s finally going to happen. And I’ll keep that in mind when I’m ready to lose it with Angela.”

Philip hugged Jonathan for a few seconds before he felt him tense. “What is it, Jonny? What’s wrong?”

Jonathan filled his cheeks with air. Exhaling hard, he said, “Now… how are we going to come up with a name?”

Philip slapped his butt. “Jesus, Jonny. One problem at a time.” He closed his eyes and said a quick prayer that Angela would work with them and make it easy for everyone when it came to naming the baby. “One problem at a time.”

*

Gazing from his twenty-first floor office window, Philip watched the northbound traffic on I-95 crawl through the five o’clock jam. He gazed over the Stamford train station in the distance, his eyes moving somewhere deep into the Long Island Sound, where his peripheral vision caught a flicker of light. For a split second he thought came from across the water, from a spot on the North Shore of Long Island, but that was impossible. Although the North Shore was directly across from Stamford, the edge of the Island was too far away to see anything of substance. He figured the flash of light came from a boat cruising into Manhattan. Wherever it came from, the light flash gave him the sensation of distress, a feeling that somewhere out there, someone needed help. The feeling caused a chill that raised the hair on his arms and made him don his suit jacket, something he never did while in his office.

“I hear you’re going away for a few days,” a voice said from the doorway.

Startled, Philip turned around to see Wayne walking toward him, his hand held out, offering a piece of gum. “No thanks,” he said. “And yes, Jonny and I are heading to South Beach for a quick getaway. You have a place down there, don’t you?”