That One Night (That One Series Book 1) (7 page)

For about two hours, we drive without talking. Instead both of us seem to be lost in our own thoughts, listening to music and to Archers tiny, feeble snores.

At least until our thoughts are interrupted by a cranky Archer, who’s complaining, and guessing from the smell that suddenly inhibits the car I’m fairly sure the reason for the complaint is a dirty diaper.

“I think it might be time for a pit stop. Cranky back there needs his diaper changed. You up for that task?” I glance sideways at Ben to notice him go a little pale. I’m not sure if it’s the smell, or the task at hand that causes him to lose all color. I can’t help but laugh, which earns me a glare.

Pulling into the next gas station, I climb out of the car and get Archer, rubbing his back and nuzzling his head to soothe him.

“Let’s get to work,” I call over my shoulder, while marching towards the restrooms, with Archer on one arm and the diaper bag over my shoulder. Thankfully, they have a separate changing room here and not just a changing station in the women’s restrooms. This is somewhat of a luxury that I don’t take for granted. I don’t wait for Ben to catch up with me since Archer is getting crankier by the second, but I know Ben isn’t far behind. Before the door of the changing room can fall shut, he catches the door with his foot and hurries inside.

“You couldn’t wait five seconds?” He sounds annoyed, but I detect something else, and if I wouldn’t know any better, I’d say it’s a hint of hurt lacing his voice.

“Sorry. Archer calls the shots,” I shrug my shoulders.

I lay Archer on the changing table. His face is red from crying.

“Just a few more minutes, baby boy, and you’ll be all clean and happy again,” I reassure him in a soothing tone, regardless whether or not he understands what I’m saying.

I feel Ben coming up behind me; his breath tickles my neck and I involuntarily shiver from the close proximity. For the next ten minutes, I try to coach him through changing a diaper and it’s the funniest thing I’ve ever witnessed. At some point, he couldn’t help gagging, which made me laugh even harder.

Archer seemed to be enthralled by the whole situation, looking back and forth between us and giggling along with my laughs. As I lift Archer up, he goes straight for my boob so I decide to use the break to feed him as well. Sitting down on the chair in the corner of the changing room, I give Archer the breast, not really thinking about Ben still being in the room with me. When he turns around and notices me feeding Archer, I can see his eyes darken and his breathing getting more labored.

“This is the most perfect thing I have ever seen.”

I didn’t expect him to say something like that and it catches me off-guard. For a moment, I stare at him open-mouthed.

“You with Archer—feeding and nurturing him makes me want to protect both of you from any harm—including myself. Seriously, I have the urge to beat my chest and make grunting noises like a super-possessive caveman, and then flatten everyone that dares to come near you two.” His mouth turns into a lopsided grin. “This is one hell of a rollercoaster I ended up on.”

“And the ride has just started, cowboy,” I grin back at him. Inside I cannot help but feel a bit excited at the thought of him feeling possessive of both of us—not only of Archer. But I also haven’t missed him describing himself as harmful. I still don’t know what all of this is about, but whatever he’s hiding, it’s eating away at him and I can only hope he can leave it behind before it poisons his life. The only thing this kind of self-doubt, or even self-hate, can lead to is self-destruction and if he can’t stop it, all I can hope is that Archer and I won’t be around to be pulled under with him.

On the way back to the car, he goes and grabs us something to eat while I play with Archer in the backseat and call Dean.

“Hey, hon’,” I say as soon as he picks up. I hurry to tell the whole story before Ben comes back. “Long story short: Ben more or less invited himself to come back with me to Northampton. We are on our way back now. If you guys are good with it, he could crash in Archer’s room. But if not, that’s absolutely fine too.”

“Breathe, Frankie. I don’t have a problem with it, and I’m sure Alex and Viv don’t either, but I will talk to them. But, do you have a problem with this arrangement? And more importantly, what the hell happened?”

“To answer your first question—I have no clue how I feel about it. And as to what happened—so much. I feel like we’ve crammed four weeks into the past three days. But I’ll tell you all about it when I get back. Gotta go. He’s coming back.”

I hear Dean laugh while I hang up. He knows I can be a bit dramatic when the mood strikes and with Ben around, the title of drama queen shouldn’t be hard to win.

“I’ll drive for a while, that way you can relax and eat.” He hands me the Styrofoam box that contains the food and when I open it, my heart does a weird thumping thing while I look at the BLT.
Calm your horses, girl. It’s a sandwich, not an engagement ring.

“You remember my favorite dish?” My voice is hoarser than I would like as I ask him.

“Frankie, I remember everything.” He throws a look towards me in the rear-view mirror, his voice deep with emotion, then he chuckles. “And besides, that isn’t something anyone that knows you even a little bit could forget. You’ve been basically living on those throughout your teenage years. By the way, I had them use turkey bacon since you seem to be into healthier food these days.”

And with that he renders me speechless. I didn’t expect him to notice. I wish it would be easy to block out the feelings that he reawakens and to just continue being angry at him, but there is more to him than the shitty decision he made so many months ago.

I croak a thank you before turning my attention back to my food and the storm of emotions that is building inside of me.

The rest of the ten-hour drive we keep taking turns driving and sitting in the back with Archer, keeping him company. He loves the attention he’s getting, especially from Ben. You can already tell they are father and son. They have the same crooked smile, and their eyes are exactly the same shade of brown.

Ben and I talk in between listening to music; about my pregnancy and Archer’s birth. He seems quite shocked that I had decided to give birth to Archer at home with Viv’s help, who coincidently happens to be a mid-wife, and with Dean and Alex cheering me on. I promise to show him pictures of Archer from the past nine months when we get home and I’m glad that I basically photographed Archer on a daily basis. I don’t think Angelina and Brad’s kids have that many photos taken of them.

We talk about my school, work in the counseling center, and living arrangements, about things I’ve been doing for the past eighteen months, and about all the stuff Archer has learned and done since he was born. It doesn’t escape my attention that we don’t discuss anything related to Ben and his departure, and although I have so many questions on the tip of my tongue, I’m also emotionally exhausted and don’t want to get into an argument with him right now.

It is way past midnight when we pull up to the place I call home. All the windows are dark, except the kitchen.

I turn on the lights in the living room and drop the bags down on the couch, while Ben carries Archer inside.

“What’s up? Who’s the hottie?” A gravelly voice suddenly emerges from the kitchen and makes Ben jump. Viv walks out into the living room, looking her usual crazy self—tattoos from neck to toes, hair a vibrant purple, and the piercings above her eyes an inch higher than usual since she’s raising her eyebrows at us.

“Viv, this is Ben, Archer’s dad,” I say, pointing with my head in his direction.

“Ben, this is Viv. She lives here with the guys and me.”

“Hi. And thanks for the heart attack,” Ben grins at her, “You look more like a biker chick than a mid-wife.”

“And you don’t look like the douchebag you seem to be. Appearances don’t say shit.” Ben raises his hands in silent defeat.

“I’m beat. I just delivered twins and need to catch up on some major sleep. See you guys in the morning.” Viv saunters upstairs, but not before giving me a knowing little grin, while arching her eyebrows and throwing a glance in Ben’s direction. I briefly wonder what she tried to tell me with the look, but my brain is too fried to contemplate it any further. It has been one hell of a day.

“Come on, let’s get you to bed,” I say, walking past Ben and motioning for him to follow me.

I can hear the suppressed laugher when he says, “You want to get me to bed? That worked out faster than I thought.”

I mentally kick myself in the butt. Instead of replying to him, I flip him the bird.

“Still a charmer, huh?”

I don’t grace him with a reply, instead we put Archer into his crib in my room before I show Ben where he’s going to crash.

“It’s going to be Archer’s room, but while he’s still little it’s easier if he sleeps in my room. So make yourself at home. Our other spare room is more of a storage space right now. This is not much, but enough to sleep in.”

I turn around and am about to leave, when Ben grabs my wrist and stops me mid-step.

“Thank you. For letting me be a part of Archer’s life. For letting me invade yours like this. You have no idea what it means to me.”

I don’t know what to say, so I just nod at him and then make my way to my room. I only manage to shrug out of my shoes and jacket before I drop half-dead into bed. The past days have exhausted me beyond words.

***

The next morning, I wake up too late for my liking and notice that Archer isn’t in his bed. Mentally, I thank Dean and Alex, knowing they are taking care of him in order for me to sleep in and relax. It’s such a blessing to have them in my life. All five of us are a little family—unconventional and a bit weird—but definitely a family. I look around my room, the grey paint on the walls, the wood floor peeking out from under the purple rugs and am reminded how the room, how the whole house looked when we first moved here.

When it was time to choose a college, I made the decision to follow Dean to Northampton. He graduated a year before me and moved there, where he met Alex—a fancy lawyer seven years his senior. He was always painting Northampton in the brightest of lights; a bit wacky, liberal, very artsy. A little hippie town. So it wasn’t a hard decision to come here. The fact that I could get a degree in psychology in Amherst sealed the deal for me. The first year of college, I lived on campus but spent most of my time at Dean and Alex’ apartment.

The three of us decided we wanted to find a bigger home to move into together as soon as I was allowed to move off-campus. Preferably a house with a garden, so we could grow our own vegetables and herbs—like a good hippie would. We started looking, but not everyone is that eager to rent a house to a gay couple and an underage girl. And once Viv came into the pic, finding a place became even more difficult.

I met Viv in one of my yoga classes and we clicked immediately. There was just something about her behavior and attitude that made me instantly like her. Covered in tattoos and piercings, back then with bright green hair, she exuded a calm and peace that was baffling. It could have also been her attitude while we were trying to hold the boat pose, arms and legs lifted off the ground and a ninety degree angle between our legs and torso. We’d been trying to hold the position for a few minutes and it was pure hell. My muscles were burning something fierce and I was about two seconds from giving up. The instructor walked past, reminding us to breathe. “Breathe slowly in and out. Don’t hold your breath, ladies. Enjoy the sensation.”

I don’t think I’ve taken a breath since starting the exercise and letting my eyes roam the room, most of the other girls seemed to be in the same boat. But it was Viv that made me break the pose and shake with laughter, when she turned her head slightly in my direction, panting between words. “Breathing seems a bit far-fetched. I’m trying way too hard not to fart in this pose.” After that, we were both just lying on our backs laughing. Needless to say, we were asked to leave the room.

Soon after, we all started hanging out, and when she told us she was looking for a new place since her landlord was a creep, we didn’t waste a second thought and asked her to move in with us. It took us nearly one and a half years to find something decent and when we did, it was nothing short of a miracle.

When I moved here, I started volunteering at an old people’s home once a week and have befriended an old, grumpy guy, whom no one seemed to like, or wanted to spend any time with. In my opinion, Vincent Briggs was just a sarcastic fuckwit who didn’t give a damn what people thought about him. I didn’t mind his rants or his attitude—in fact, it made me like him even more. It was more honest than someone constantly in a cheery mood.

One day when taking him out to a bar—unknown to the people running the home—I mentioned that we’re looking for a house to rent, or buy. He asked a lot of questions, but didn’t say anything besides that.

Next time I came to visit, he pushed an envelope my way. When I opened it, it was a sales contract for a house.

“You know, kiddo, I never sold my house when I had to move into this charming and happy place.” His voice dripped with sarcasm, talking about the old people’s home. “There were many offers, but I just couldn’t convince myself to give it up to strangers. I grew up in that house. I helped my father build it. I spent my whole life there. All my memories are connected to it. I don’t want some suit-wearing asshole destroying the soul and heart of it.”

I looked at him flabbergasted, my mouth opening and closing, my eyes wide with shock.

“It’ll be run down by now. No one’s looked after it for the past five years. But I think you might like it.”

He shoved the keys into my hand and shooed me out of his room to go look at the house. That is exactly what I did.

Picking up the guys and Viv on the way, we made our way to the house. It was in the outskirts of Northampton, with a lot of nature surrounding the Victorian-style house. Walking up to it, all the work and intricate designs took my breath away. The window frames were carved, looking lace-like. More carvings decorated the arch above the door and the porch banister. I couldn’t stop myself from running my fingers over it. The house was huge with a big shed adjoining it. I was immediately in love and that didn’t change when I saw the interior. A lot of work needed to be done, but it was perfect—and once restored, I knew it would be a little gem.

The rest of the gang was just as mesmerized by it. There was a lot of oohing and awing ringing out through the house. Five bedrooms, a huge living room, a little sun-room, a big kitchen with a dining room, and three bathrooms. I mean how much more could you want? Sure, everything was old and needed replacing—the bathrooms, the roof, the windows, not to mention the wallpapers and floors—but it was something that could be done step by step. The garden was like a jungle—everything was overgrown, wild, and untamed. I loved the look of it and knew we would keep bits of it here and there, while cleaning it up enough to make it usable for growing vegetables.

Without the need for many words, we all agreed that we wanted this house. The price we anticipated scared us though. I guess we didn’t take Vince’s good heart into account. When I got back to his room and started gushing about the awesomeness of the house and how we wanted to redo things, but keep all the things that gave the house its personality, I could see the corners of his mouth lift into a smile.

“Well, when are we signing the contract then?” He interrupted my constant stream of words.

“Vince, I don’t think we can afford it. It’s beautiful. It really is. And it would be perfect, but even with our trust funds—this kind of house is not in our price range.”

Both Dean and I had trust funds that we could access. Viv was already working as a mid-wife and Alex as a lawyer, so they had an income. Dean and I had part-time jobs and parents supporting us financially, paying our tuitions. But a house that size was easily worth over 400,000 dollars. There was no way we could afford it, and no bank on this planet would be willing to give us the mortgage to pay for it.

“Good thing that I make the fucking price for my own house—and not some arrogant scumbag in a suit that decides what my father’s and my work is worth. I’d rather have the house go to someone who will appreciate it and fall in love with it, than some snob from the city who wants to get everything all sleek and modern. And seeing the spark in your eyes, kiddo, tells me you and your friends will be the right people to live there. You won’t bastardize what I helped build. And that means more to me than any money could. I can’t take money with me when I die anyway. The knowledge that the house I built is cherished and lived in—that is something not even death can take from me.” At this point I just hugged him—hard—too overcome with emotion to say anything. “Don’t get all mushy on me, kiddo,” he choked out, while I laughed.

A week later, we signed the sales contract—buying the house the four of us wanted. He basically gave the house away, arguing that it needed a lot of work. So between the trust funds and our individual incomes, we became proud homeowners and could start working on it. We bought the house two weeks before the night Ben and I spent together, before my life changed completely.

All that time later, the house still needs a lot of work. Everyone helped to fix up my room first, so Archer and I would have a perfect, little place. And a perfect place it is—including my own bathroom with an awesome rain shower.

I decide to get my ass out of bed and make use of the shower. I certainly need it after the trip yesterday. And then I’m hell-bent on facing the new changes head-on. At least that’s what I tell myself while walking into the bathroom.