Kim Golden's Blog - Posts Tagged "maybe-baby-series"
30 Days, 30 Stories: Story #7
And now it's time for another installment of 30 days, 30 stories. This time it's fiction. :) Sorry I forgot to post the other installments here.
Story #7: Drive
------------------------------
“Is she happy?” It was the first thing my father said to me since he’d met me at the arrivals hall. A quick hug, a shake of his head. And then that question. Not are you okay? Or what the hell were you thinking? Or even You know you’re grounded, right? No, the first thing he said to me was Is she happy? And by “she”, he meant Laney. He never said her name.
OK, I’m exaggerating. He said her name, but he never said it around my mom. And he never talked about her when my sister Siri was around.
“She’s okay,” I muttered. I didn’t want to tell him anything. Even though my dad tried to avoid talking about Laney with my mom, there were still those times when her name would come up in conversation. Dad would bristle and fidget but never defended Laney when my mom or Siri began ripping her to shreds.
“Did you meet…him?” By him, he meant Mads, the Danish guy Laney left him for. He never said his name either. And when I say never, I really mean never. For my dad, Mads was just a pronoun, said as though it filled his mouth with a bitter aftertaste.
“Of course I did, Dad. They live together.” We were driving along E4, heading back to the city in the heavy Stockholm gloom that typified winter. I’d hoped there’d be a little snow but instead it was raining.
My dad did that throat-clearing thing he always does when he’s uncomfortable. I let out an audible sigh and stared out the passenger window at the drab line of strip malls we passed. This time yesterday I was still at the workshop with Mads. He'd shown me how to make a tenon joint and how to use the mortiser. He was making a bed frame, well, a crib I guess. For the baby they were expecting. I'd wanted to stay a few more days, finish helping him with the crib. Working in his wood shop was better than being stuck in school, better even than being stuck here listening to my dad go on and on about how he and Mom were worried about me. I didn't really buy it. If Mom was so concerned, why didn't she call me during the entire time I was there?
"Are you listening to me, Jeppe?" My dad jolted me out of my thoughts.
"Yeah, yeah. I heard you."
"You can't just take my credit card and book an airline ticket when you feel like it."
"I know. I won't do it again." It was good to play the remorse card now. If I didn't, he'd psychoanalyse me from here to Vasastan. I freaking hated that. "I was upset, and you weren't here and I missed Laney."
He cleared his throat again. I was starting to think he needed to keep some cough drops with him all the time.
"How is she?"
"She?"
"Laney. Is she okay?"
"Yeah...she's fine," I said. "You know she's pregnant, right?"
Dad coughed. He flicked a glance at me. His lips twitched like he wanted to say something but then he pressed them together.
"You didn't know, did you?"
"I didn't think she really wanted a baby..."
"Well, she's having one. With Mads."
We drove in silence for a while. I could see the cogs turning in Dad's head. He was processing the news. I'd bet anything he was wondering if she would have stayed if he'd changed his mind about the vasectomy. He didn't think I knew about it. I heard him overheard him telling Mom about it--how Laney had told him she wanted to have a baby with him, but he said no. Maybe he regretted it now. Even if he and Mom were sort of back together again, he seemed more confused than anything. I guess he was wondering how the heck he ended up back where he started.
"He told me he would take her seriously if she was his girlfriend," my dad said out of nowhere. "When I mentioned she wanted to have a baby. I thought it was just a whim of hers. But he knew...he already knew."
Story #7: Drive
------------------------------
“Is she happy?” It was the first thing my father said to me since he’d met me at the arrivals hall. A quick hug, a shake of his head. And then that question. Not are you okay? Or what the hell were you thinking? Or even You know you’re grounded, right? No, the first thing he said to me was Is she happy? And by “she”, he meant Laney. He never said her name.
OK, I’m exaggerating. He said her name, but he never said it around my mom. And he never talked about her when my sister Siri was around.
“She’s okay,” I muttered. I didn’t want to tell him anything. Even though my dad tried to avoid talking about Laney with my mom, there were still those times when her name would come up in conversation. Dad would bristle and fidget but never defended Laney when my mom or Siri began ripping her to shreds.
“Did you meet…him?” By him, he meant Mads, the Danish guy Laney left him for. He never said his name either. And when I say never, I really mean never. For my dad, Mads was just a pronoun, said as though it filled his mouth with a bitter aftertaste.
“Of course I did, Dad. They live together.” We were driving along E4, heading back to the city in the heavy Stockholm gloom that typified winter. I’d hoped there’d be a little snow but instead it was raining.
My dad did that throat-clearing thing he always does when he’s uncomfortable. I let out an audible sigh and stared out the passenger window at the drab line of strip malls we passed. This time yesterday I was still at the workshop with Mads. He'd shown me how to make a tenon joint and how to use the mortiser. He was making a bed frame, well, a crib I guess. For the baby they were expecting. I'd wanted to stay a few more days, finish helping him with the crib. Working in his wood shop was better than being stuck in school, better even than being stuck here listening to my dad go on and on about how he and Mom were worried about me. I didn't really buy it. If Mom was so concerned, why didn't she call me during the entire time I was there?
"Are you listening to me, Jeppe?" My dad jolted me out of my thoughts.
"Yeah, yeah. I heard you."
"You can't just take my credit card and book an airline ticket when you feel like it."
"I know. I won't do it again." It was good to play the remorse card now. If I didn't, he'd psychoanalyse me from here to Vasastan. I freaking hated that. "I was upset, and you weren't here and I missed Laney."
He cleared his throat again. I was starting to think he needed to keep some cough drops with him all the time.
"How is she?"
"She?"
"Laney. Is she okay?"
"Yeah...she's fine," I said. "You know she's pregnant, right?"
Dad coughed. He flicked a glance at me. His lips twitched like he wanted to say something but then he pressed them together.
"You didn't know, did you?"
"I didn't think she really wanted a baby..."
"Well, she's having one. With Mads."
We drove in silence for a while. I could see the cogs turning in Dad's head. He was processing the news. I'd bet anything he was wondering if she would have stayed if he'd changed his mind about the vasectomy. He didn't think I knew about it. I heard him overheard him telling Mom about it--how Laney had told him she wanted to have a baby with him, but he said no. Maybe he regretted it now. Even if he and Mom were sort of back together again, he seemed more confused than anything. I guess he was wondering how the heck he ended up back where he started.
"He told me he would take her seriously if she was his girlfriend," my dad said out of nowhere. "When I mentioned she wanted to have a baby. I thought it was just a whim of hers. But he knew...he already knew."
30 Days, 30 Stories: Story #21
More 30 Days, 30 Stories. More fiction. :) A scene from Maybe Forever.
Day 21: Florence
---------------------------
The night I think Freya was conceived, Mads and I were in Florence, Italy for a romantic weekend away. We'd left Liv with Eddy and Henrik. It was one of our first weekend trips without her. I loved Florence--it was one of my favourite places in the world. The very first time I came to Europe, I started my trip in Florence and then took the train north until eventually I ended up in London to work. But Florence...every street hid some treasure--a leather shop that made the most beautiful journals...a pasticceria with perfect little confections that made you think you'd died and gone to heaven...churches so wondrous even someone like me who no longer believed in God had a religious experience. I'd wanted to share this with Mads and when he suggested we have a weekend away, I took the lead and booked a three-day trip for us and splurged--taking some of my bonus money so we could stay in an upscale bed and breakfast near the Arno. We spent the first day overwhelmed by all the beauty around us--even with all the other annoying tourists who jostled us--but Mads held my hand and sometimes we'd find deserted streets and slowly stroll and then he'd stop and reel me in, taking my face in his hands and kissing me so deeply the only thing I could sense was our heartbeats in unison and longing streaming through me.
At some point I remember we lost our way. We could not remember which street would lead us back to our bed and breakfast. It was late and we'd had far too much red chianti classico with our bistecca... we ducked down alleys and side streets, looking for the entrance to the house but never finding it and that early spring night...when the air was so warm it felt like summer though the Florentines were still bundled in down jackets... Mads gathered me in his arms in a deserted piazza and kissed me so long and hard my knees buckled. I remember telling him how I wanted him to be the last man I ever made love to... and the smile that spread across his lips--so quick, so intense--made me fall even harder. His hands slid along my hips, gathering the folds of my skirt and spreading my legs with his thigh... I managed to stop him before we went too far... but I was so far gone, every fiber of me attuned to this longing and wanting nothing more than for him to push me against a wall and lock my legs around him so he could take me... but I stopped him and laughed as I straightened my skirt and led him down one twisting street after another until we finally managed to find our little inn.
That night, we hung the "Do Not Disturb" sign on our door and we made love until our bodies were sore and too sensitive....and still we wanted more. I remember how we tried to be quiet whenever someone passed our room. I'd bite my lip and try to hold in the brazen longing, Mads buried his face in my neck as his fingers dug into my hips and held me still. The brass bed squeaked and groaned with each thrust... and all I knew was that my body screamed out to be touched and stroked and penetrated. His hair was longer then and I remember how I raked my fingers through those red-gold strands and gripped him and we kept our eyes locked on one another... I came so hard, and a few minutes later so did he...and when afterwards I twined my arms around him and he was murmuring to me in Danish that being inside of me was like coming home, I had this sensation that something monumental had just happened... I wasn't sure what, but I remembered how my body felt so attuned to Mads's and how I almost felt like I could read his thoughts. My body was singing, I love you, I love every inch of you, I love you...and his body responded in kind.
Two months later I found out I was pregnant.
Day 21: Florence
---------------------------
The night I think Freya was conceived, Mads and I were in Florence, Italy for a romantic weekend away. We'd left Liv with Eddy and Henrik. It was one of our first weekend trips without her. I loved Florence--it was one of my favourite places in the world. The very first time I came to Europe, I started my trip in Florence and then took the train north until eventually I ended up in London to work. But Florence...every street hid some treasure--a leather shop that made the most beautiful journals...a pasticceria with perfect little confections that made you think you'd died and gone to heaven...churches so wondrous even someone like me who no longer believed in God had a religious experience. I'd wanted to share this with Mads and when he suggested we have a weekend away, I took the lead and booked a three-day trip for us and splurged--taking some of my bonus money so we could stay in an upscale bed and breakfast near the Arno. We spent the first day overwhelmed by all the beauty around us--even with all the other annoying tourists who jostled us--but Mads held my hand and sometimes we'd find deserted streets and slowly stroll and then he'd stop and reel me in, taking my face in his hands and kissing me so deeply the only thing I could sense was our heartbeats in unison and longing streaming through me.
At some point I remember we lost our way. We could not remember which street would lead us back to our bed and breakfast. It was late and we'd had far too much red chianti classico with our bistecca... we ducked down alleys and side streets, looking for the entrance to the house but never finding it and that early spring night...when the air was so warm it felt like summer though the Florentines were still bundled in down jackets... Mads gathered me in his arms in a deserted piazza and kissed me so long and hard my knees buckled. I remember telling him how I wanted him to be the last man I ever made love to... and the smile that spread across his lips--so quick, so intense--made me fall even harder. His hands slid along my hips, gathering the folds of my skirt and spreading my legs with his thigh... I managed to stop him before we went too far... but I was so far gone, every fiber of me attuned to this longing and wanting nothing more than for him to push me against a wall and lock my legs around him so he could take me... but I stopped him and laughed as I straightened my skirt and led him down one twisting street after another until we finally managed to find our little inn.
That night, we hung the "Do Not Disturb" sign on our door and we made love until our bodies were sore and too sensitive....and still we wanted more. I remember how we tried to be quiet whenever someone passed our room. I'd bite my lip and try to hold in the brazen longing, Mads buried his face in my neck as his fingers dug into my hips and held me still. The brass bed squeaked and groaned with each thrust... and all I knew was that my body screamed out to be touched and stroked and penetrated. His hair was longer then and I remember how I raked my fingers through those red-gold strands and gripped him and we kept our eyes locked on one another... I came so hard, and a few minutes later so did he...and when afterwards I twined my arms around him and he was murmuring to me in Danish that being inside of me was like coming home, I had this sensation that something monumental had just happened... I wasn't sure what, but I remembered how my body felt so attuned to Mads's and how I almost felt like I could read his thoughts. My body was singing, I love you, I love every inch of you, I love you...and his body responded in kind.
Two months later I found out I was pregnant.
