“We need the extra money,” Cheryl says softly. There are bags under her eyes, and I can tell she’s just as tired as I am, maybe even more so. Pops motions for me to pass her the gravy, but Michael leans over the table and snatches it before I can. He’s quick with it and then hands it off to Cheryl.
That white ceramic rooster brightens her spirits as Cheryl sits straighter in the chair and pours it all over the turkey and mashed potatoes. She's practically smothering her entire plate with the gravy.
Just before she sets it down, little Miss Evie starts crying for the first time since she’s been here. Cheryl’s head whips around, and her face falls.
“No, no, no,” she says quietly. She walks over and shushes Evie softly while rocking the bassinet. She’s fucking exhausted.
“She’s still not sleeping well?” Ali asks while craning her neck to see the baby.
Cheryl presses her lips into a thin line and shakes her head. Her expression has completely fallen.
“I’ll take her,” I speak without thinking and scoot my chair out some, the legs scraping on the wooden floor and hold my hands out. Cheryl doesn’t waste a second to round the table with the little two-month-old all bundled up in her arms.
“Thank you,” she says quickly, ready to eat her dinner like it’s a race.
I’ve got a soft spot for Evie. She’s the first baby I’ve ever held and to be honest I didn’t know if I was doing it right. Her eyes are closed, and her hands are balled into little fists as Cheryl settles her on my chest. She’s so small, such a tiny little thing with hardly any weight to her. She knows how to scream though, that’s for certain.
I shush her and pat her bottom rhythmically as Cheryl takes off back to her seat and doesn’t even scoot in before grabbing her fork.
My entire body moves slightly as I bounce little Evie, trying to get her to calm down. Her cry isn’t loud like it was a moment ago and it doesn’t affect me in the least, but I know it’ll calm Cheryl down again if Evie is happy. It only takes a moment before Evie lays her head on my chest and lets out a long yawn. I watch her face as she falls back asleep and I slowly stop bouncing her.
“Oh, that’s so cute,” Ali squeals before shoveling a mouthful of potatoes in.
“Aw, it is. My oldest boy.” Ma sounds so proud, but I completely avoid her gaze. I know what’s coming next, and it’s only when she says the words that I regret offering to hold Evie.
“You need one of your own, I think,” Ma says matter-of-factly. She grabs the gravy and puts a modest amount over her turkey. I believe the rooster has made its way to everyone but me.
I have to readjust Evie slightly so I can hold her against my chest with only my left arm.
I ignore Ma and say, “It’s 'cause I’m a heater. Puts her right to sleep.”
With my right hand free, I cut the turkey with my fork and take another bite.
“You do need one,” Cheryl says. I practically choke on the turkey. I stare at her down the table, feeling like she just stabbed me in the back.
“Babies are so wonderful,” she says softly. I don’t even know how to respond she’s obviously deranged from lack of sleep.
“I’d need a wife for that. And I’m fine with the current state when it comes to that.” I grip my glass on the table and take a quick swig, feeling my body tense up before I set the glass down.
I keep my eyes on my plate, ignoring everyone else. We’ve had this conversation so many times. Over and over, for five long years. Both my sisters are younger, both moving on with their lives the way they should according to this small town.
My plans got fucked over. Literally. And Ma never fails to remind me that I need to get back on track.
“You know I saw Susanne’s mother the other day--”
I cut my mother off, feeling the frustration of just wanting to eat a damn meal in this house without talking about that woman.
“I’d rather not talk about it or her.” I look her square in the eyes when I say it, and I know Ma immediately regrets bringing her up. I set my fork down and start rocking Evie again as her tummy grumbles.
It’s not that she wants us to get back together. I know that. It’s that my mother wants me to be happy again, like I was with Susanne. Or the way she thinks I was with her.
Ma has no idea.
This town has a good memory. Susanne and I were supposed to be just like Cheryl and Joseph. High school sweethearts, together through college, married by twenty-five and a baby not long after.
At thirty years old, with no plans of marriage, I’m failing those expectations.
But that’s what happens when your fiancée and your best friend decide they should have a drunken weekend fling at the beach.
Everyone knows what they did, but no one talks about it. Not my family, and not most of the town. It’s why I moved to the outskirts and bought the damn bar. Five years later, and the pain of her cheating on me is mostly gone. I’m numb. But I’m not fucking stupid. Both of them can go to hell.
Not all women cheat. I know that, and I’m over it. I don’t feel like having my heart ripped out again. No fucking thank you. It’s been five years since I took that ring back and showed Susanne the door… and kicked Adam’s ass.
For a second, just a split second, I see Grace in my mind. I picture her absently checking her phone with that sad look on her face. She would never cheat. She knows what she wants. Suzanne wasn’t sure. That’s what she told me. I was all she ever had and so she needed to be sure.
I close my eyes as I shush Evie, forcing that conversation out of my head, my lips close to her head and my right hand patting her back. I know Grace has gotta be hurting about not being able to have kids. She’s talked about it more than once to me. I don’t like seeing that sadness behind those beautiful doe eyes of hers. She doesn’t strike me as a woman who’d cheat. A woman like her isn’t interested in a man like me though. She wants a commitment and a man with stability, and there’s no way I’m getting her without promising her just that in return.
I’ve made too many mistakes, been burned too many times. The bar does great some weeks, not so great the next. She doesn’t want me. She’d make cute little babies though.
Evie starts crying a little harder the second my bouncing stops. Crap. Cheryl hops up from her seat with her arms out ready to take her. I don’t fight her in the least and pass Evie back to her.
I’m not ready for a relationship, let alone to be a father.
Grace
I’ve realized my nervous habit is tapping my foot, mainly because I keep catching myself doing it in between sips of white wine as I sit at the bar of The Brick Store Pub, waiting for my date to arrive. All around me, there are people in motion; waiters carrying trays of beer and food out to the tables, customers heading to the bathroom or upstairs to the Belgian beer bar with the chefs peeking their heads out of the back to check out the crowd.
With stylish deep-red sailor pants and a cream-colored blouse, I really tried to look cute. I debated on keeping the third button undone to add a little bit of sexy but opted to keep it modest. After another sip of Zinfandel, I suck my teeth, a habit that reappears when I feel like I’m at a disadvantage. I haven’t dated in how long?