Regret Me Not (22 page)

"So?" I ask.

He flashes me his smile, and even though I've seen more of it over the last few days than ever before, my insides still feel like a pot of melted caramel when I see it.

"I have a job."

"Yay! I knew you'd find something. Bet those sports places loved you."

He shakes his head, "No. They have enough help. They said they weren't hiring, but would take my number in case something opens up in the future."

"Oh. Is it one of those bouncy places with the huge inflatables?"

Brayden gives my hand a squeeze. "No."

I don't understand why he doesn't just spit it out already. It's like he's nervous or something.

"Where?"

"Over at the gas station on Ryders Lane."

"What? No." Any good feelings I have about him finding a job are gone. "You can't work there."

"Come on, baby. It's only temporary. Just until I can find something better."

"I know, but still, you can't pump gas. Brayden. Everyone goes there. All your friends will see you."

He pulls his hand away from mine and grips the steering wheel tight. "Are you embarrassed?"

"No." I stroke the side of his face and run my fingers through his hair. He makes a face, and I know he's upset by my reaction. "I'd never be embarrassed of anything you do, but, sweetheart, people will ride you and give you a hard time. They'll laugh at you and taunt you. Especially kids from the nearby schools that you played against."

"No they won't. Besides, even if they do, I don't care. We can't expect your parents to support us completely. I appreciate what they're doing, but Kenzie, I have to contribute somehow."

"I know, and you already are with the basement. I know it's for us right now, but ultimately it's their house and it's an improvement that will raise the value of the house. Brayden, for you to go work at the gas station, it's like in Rocky II when Rocky can't get a job and he goes to work at the gym. The guys lose all respect for him. I don't want to see you go through that."

"I'll do what I have to."

"I know. But you deserve better than that."

He pulls my hand from his neck, "I don't need anyone's respect or approval, because I don't give a shit about them. I know who my friends are, and I know they'll support me no matter what. The only one I'm concerned about right now is you. Will you be okay with me working there, or will you be ashamed of me?"

I sniffle. It hurts that he even has to ask, but I guess he's not sure if my reaction is more about him or me.

"I'm proud that you're willing to do anything and everything you can to make this work. Nothing's going to change that."

"Will I be an embarrassment to you? Will you be ashamed to tell people your husband pumps gas for a living?"

"No. But I know this isn't what you want to do, and we won't get very far . . ."

He doesn't let me finish before interrupting me. "It's short term. We have to remember that. The long term goal is still the police academy."

"Okay." I offer him a smile and do my best to convince him it's real. "Now I have a question for you, are you ready to get to know your baby in a whole new way?"

*

I lie on the table, this time fully dressed, waiting for the doctor to come in. Thank goodness we're over the uncomfortable examination part. Brayden holds my hand in one of his while he brushes the hair away from my face with the other. He looks jubilant. His eyes, are shining and dancing.

"Do you have any idea what it is?" he asks me.

I shake my head. "Not a clue."

"No gut feeling? Nothing?"

"No why? Do you?"

He gives my hand a squeeze. "I hope its girl. I hope she looks just like you, a little Irish princess."

I move to sit up; his hand gently pulls my shoulder back down. "Relax."

"Seriously, you want a girl?" I'm surprised. I thought a testosterone filled jock like  Brayden would not only want, but expect, nothing but boys.

He nods. "If it’s a girl, we can't fall into the trap of raising her to be a football player."

"Brayden, I'm so sorry you had to quit."

"No, baby, don't be. I'm not worried I'd push my son into football. It’s my father. At least if we have a girl, it takes it off the table. Trust me, it's not always fun when you're the guy on the field that everyone's after."

Dr. Stone opens the door to the exam room, moving quickly, with her white coat flapping behind her. "Hello Mackenzie," her eyes are focused on my chart. "How are you feeling?"

"Great."

"I'm glad to hear that." She finally looks up with a smile and spots Brayden standing by my side. "Hi," Dr. Stone extends her hand.

"Dr. this is the baby's father, my husband, Brayden Turner."

"Husband?" She smiles. "Congratulations."

"Thank you," he answers with a goofy smile plastered on his face. I can't take my eyes off him. He's glowing; his eyes are actually beaming.

"Kenzie mentioned you had some questions she couldn't answer."

"Nothing serious. First things first." She looks down at my chart once again and then measures my stomach. "You are three months and one week along. Let's see how the little munchkin is growing."

Dr. Stone pulls the waistband of my leggings down a few inches and squeezes a drop of a cold, wet gel from a squirt container. She presses the wand of a handheld ultrasound machine on my lower abdomen. It has a small display to see the baby and what's going on with it, and reminds me a lot of the device UPS uses for signature confirmation.

I feel fluttering in my belly, and as much as I want to think it's the baby moving I know it’s just the idea of seeing it with Brayden for the first time that has me so excited.

"How's the morning sickness been?" Dr. Stone asks while checking the screen for whatever she needs to see.

"Still there, just not as often."

I hear a heavy sigh from Brayden.

"Good. And you gained two pounds in the first trimester, so it seems like you're getting enough to eat. You're taking your vitamins?"

"Yes."

"Okay then, would you like to see your baby?" she addresses Brayden.

"I'd love to." His grip on my hand tightens as Dr. Stone holds the machine low enough for us both to see. His thumb strokes the back of my hand as the doctor explains what the different color lines show, and the flicking light.  

I should be looking at the image on the display, but it is the unadulterated joy on Brayden's face that holds my attention.

Chapter 23

Back to School

Wanting Brayden to go back to school is easy, faking a smile when it happens isn't. We both spend Sunday morning in a somber mood, sad that the week rushed by. He plans go back late in the evening so he can change his two Monday, Wednesday, Friday classes first thing Monday morning. Even though he's still with me, I feel like I haven't seen him in days. Friday night and Saturday morning he spent helping out with the insulation in the basement. It's in and they started covering the walls with sheet rock. Saturday afternoon Brayden worked his first shift at the gas station. I'm glad so much work got done in such a short time in the basement, because between school, and his new work schedule, I don't know how we're ever going to see each other.

Brayden spent most of the weekend working; eight hours out in the cold Saturday, followed by a full twelve hour shift on Sunday. I worry about him driving so late. Although his manager broke him in with a short shift on his first day, when he got home, Brayden couldn't wait to get into the shower and go to sleep. I'm not sure if the cold temperature or the nasty fumes wore him out, and I have no idea how he's going to manage once school starts and he has papers and assignments due.

What's worse is I'm realizing that I suck as a wife. I'm completely inconsiderate. In below freezing temperatures, knowing he works outside, I don't even think to go pick him up hand warmers to help deal with the bitter cold. Luckily his father does. 

"Thursday night will be here before you know it." Brayden leans in and kisses my cheek as he packs his bag.

I nod and force a smile. "I know. And I can't wait to welcome you home."

His arms are around my waist. "Keep talking like that and I might never leave."

"Talking like what?"

"Well, you're making me think about
how
you're going to welcome me home, and that makes me want to get a preview." He looks toward the bed. "And you know once we get started . . ."

"You're so bad."

"That's not what you said last night.  

I slap at his chest playfully. "Call me when you get there."

"I want you to get some sleep, I'll call in the morning."

I shake my head. "I won't sleep until I hear from you."

"Okay. Mrs. Turner, your wish is my command." He picks his bag up and slings it over his shoulder. "Why don't you walk me to the door."

"I wish I was going with you."

"Me, too. Maybe we can arrange for you to come stay for a few nights. I'd love to show you around."

I walk Brayden to the door, glad everyone is asleep. I don't want my family to witness my teary-eyes goodbye. I know it’s ridiculous for me to feel so sad about him leaving, but I can't help myself. Already, I feel the ache in my heart that I had being away from him last semester. He tilts my chin up with his index finger and smiles at me.

"It's only a few days. And you'll be so sick of talking to me and texting with me, you won't even realize I'm gone."

I squeeze my arms around him tight and lean my head against his chest breathing him in.

"Do you want me to come home tomorrow night? You know I will."

I shake my head as I pull myself together. "No. I'll be fine. I just have to get used to saying goodbye to you again." I smile.

"It's never goodbye. We're done with goodbyes. I'll see you soon. Promise."

His mouth covers mine and thoughts of him leaving get pushed away. I focus on the kiss and being in his arms. I remind myself, we're family, and from here on out, it's Brayden and me forever.

*

The start of my own semester helps keep my mind occupied. I still miss Brayden,  but I think the time apart from each other will make our time together more special. Besides, it gives me a chance to work on the trust issues I have such a hard time with. I trust him, and now I get to prove it to him through my actions. Brayden was able to make the changes he wanted to his schedule. That means he'll be home with me on Thursday nights, and he won't have to leave again until Monday evenings.

My classes seem interesting, and the crazy amount of work I find on the syllabi helps to keep my head on school instead of on Brayden. I still need to get my grades up. The thing that helps keep the time moving at a decent speed is hearing from Brayden throughout the day. My phone is glued to me so I don't miss a call or a text from him.

It's finally time for Introduction to Acting. Unfortunately it only meets once a week, but it seems like a nice break in my otherwise monotonous schedule. Best of all, Jessica was able to get into the class. We've never had a class together and for the two years we spent in high school together, we barely spoke if we passed each other in the halls. I find Jessica waiting for me outside the dimly lit room. She greets me with a smile as we walk in and take seats next to each other.

"What's this supposed to be? An acting class or a vampire cave?" she leans over and whispers.

"It's supposed to be a theater."

A makeshift stage sits at the center of the room, with raised seating around it. The room feels more like a comedy venue than a theater. Professor Jenks stands at a podium in the center of the room, in front of the small platform. He reminds me of a hippie with his long, peppered hair and beard. The beaded vest he wears over his long sleeve tee does nothing to convince me he isn't at least sixty years old. His glasses lie so far down on his nose I wonder if he uses them to see or if they are a sort of prop.

"A Goth hangout is more like it." Jess gestures with her head to a corner of the room. A small camaraderie of girls and guys with dark hair, clothes and multiple piercings laugh together.

"A little judgmental don't you think?"

She shrugs. "What do I care? Have you heard the shit they say about me?"

"I'd watch it if I were you, they might be the only people in this place brave enough to hang with you."

"Smart ass."

As if on cue, I hear a fake cough just before the insult from behind us, "Junkie."

I feel my face getting red. I know it's aimed at Jess and I want to tell who ever just did that to fuck off. With my eyes glaring, I turn back and find Alana sitting, legs crossed, a large, fake smile plastered on her face. My heart skips a beat, maybe more than one. I don't think it can possibly beat in time with so much adrenaline pumping through me.

Jessica knows something is wrong. She leans over and whispers. "What's up?"

I shake her off. I don't want to get into it. The last thing I want is to give Alana the satisfaction of thinking she can get to me, no matter how true it may be. Why must she be in this class? I'm supposed to be happy. How can I be when she's around? She's the heavy anvil I feel around my neck, keeping my head under water. I know she hates me just as much as I hate her, but she's much more vicious than I could ever be.

Mr. Jenks clears his throat and asks a girl sitting in the front of the room to please pass around the syllabus.

"The most important rule is for us to create an environment where every member of this class feels safe to let their guard down and be vulnerable. Anger is easy to portray, pain, humor, not so much. In order to do this, we need to work on timing, and on reaching the emotions deep within ourselves to bring them to the surface. These things will be difficult to do if we don't respect each other first and foremost. In this room, we don't judge people based on race, gender, or sexual orientation. Any and all knowledge we may have had with classmates is left at the door. We keep attitudes positive, that means no foul language or insults when we criticize, and believe me, we will criticize."

While the rules sound easy enough to follow, I'm pretty sure I know of at least one person in class that will have a hard time following them. There's no way Alana will be anything other than the bitch I've always known her to be, especially with Jessica and me in the class.

The professor goes on to tell us about the book we need and explain the importance of the written homework in our character studies. Written homework? In an acting class? Shit, maybe this isn't going to be the slam-dunk A+ I hoped for.

When class is over, I take my time getting to my feet and getting myself together, in the hopes Alana will leave before me. Jess doesn't try to move me along, she doesn't even look at me. She's been texting for the last twenty minutes. I glance over my shoulder, trying my best to not show I'm looking. I feel Alana's eyes on me.

I can't prove it, but I know she's waiting for me. The last thing I want is a showdown with Jess here to witness it. I know how venomous Alana can be. She'll pull my sister into it, and Jess has come too far to be dragged down by the likes of her. I take a deep breath. I'm tired, and not in the mood to deal with her petty bullshit.

She's slinking down the steps toward us. Fuck, I waited too long.

"If it isn't the junkie and her whore sister."

"I'm sorry, do I know you? I'm pretty sure I'd remember a face as ugly as yours," Jessica says.

Alana's eyes narrow. "You may not know me, but I know you. In fact, everyone knows you, or knows about you."

I hear my heartbeat in my ears. I wonder if that's because the anger I feel shooting through my veins is turning me red from the bottom up, like you see in cartoons when a character literally blows their top. That is exactly how I feel.

"And now the whole town knows Kenzie's just as much of a slut as her crack-whore sister."

I step up to Alana, I need to shut her up. "And now everyone in ear shot knows what a bitch
you
are. Since there's not one good thing I can think of about your filthy mouth why don't you . . ."

"Really? That's not what your boyfriend said when we were in Carlos' basement."

I can't speak. My throat is constricting and I feel like my lungs are caving in. She didn't just imply what I think she did.

"What's wrong? Brayden didn't give you the details of all the things we did while you were home crying your eyes out?" One perfectly waxed eyebrow raises as her mouth twists into a sarcastic smirk. "And trust me Kenzie, while you were home scheming how to get him back, yours wasn't the name coming off his lips."

I make sure I don't move, my muscles are rigid, and I know if I let loose even a little, I'll punch her in the face and knock her on her ass. I want to say something, anything, but I can't.

"But the real question you should be asking yourself is when in Carlos' basement? Before or after he found out you were pregnant?"

I begin to raise my hand, I've had it, I'm going to wrap my fingers around her throat when someone gets between us.

I watch as if in a dream, where you know what's going on and that you're part of the action, but have no idea if what's happening is real. Brayden is there, out of the blue. He grabs Alana's arm and pulls her off to the side, away from me. I can't tell if I'm imagining him or not. He's not supposed to be here.

"Oww, Brayden! You're hurting me," she whines.

"Stay the hell away from my wife!" he orders.

"Your
wife
? Are you kidding? You
married
her?"

"That's right we're married. And I love her, so stay the hell away!"

"But . . . But she
ruined
your life. I know she got pregnant on purpose, to have some sort of hold on you, but you didn't have to
marry
her."

"Alana, I'm warning you, keep your mouth shut. Don't look at her. Don't talk to her. And for the record, the pregnancy is on me, not her. I wanted her back and I was willing to do anything to get her.
Anything
. So you steer clear of Kenzie, or I swear on my life . . ."

"What?" Now that she's past the initial shock of hearing we're married, she gets in his face. "What are you going to do, hit me? I'd like to see that," her eyes grow wide with the challenge. "You know what, you're not worth it. You're not who I thought you were, Brayden Turner." She walks passed us, bumping Jessica's shoulder along the way.

"Bye, bye," Jessica calls after her.

My lips are drawn into a thin line when I look into Brayden's eyes again. The way he keeps darting his eyes away from mine as they meet, tells me he's unsure of himself. He knows I'm pissed. No, not pissed, I'm boiling over with fury, like a volcano about to erupt.

"Don't," I say before he can touch me or has a chance to say anything. I turn and head for the building door. I want to get out of here, away from him, from Alana, away from the sickening images running through my head.

Brayden doesn't have to rush to catch up, his long strides match mine in no time.

"Kenzie, wait."

I ignore him.

"Baby, please wait for me."

I glare at him.

"I only said that because she has such a big mouth, and this way everyone will think it was my fault. If anyone has anything to say, let them say it about me."

"That's not what I'm mad about."

"Oh." His eyes shift down toward the ground.

"You lied to me!"