Sunday
The scraping of cutlery on porcelain had always ground my gears, but today, it made my anxiety peak much higher than the usual limit.
My parents sat across from me, their knees knocking against each other beneath the kitchen table. They’d insisted on paying me a visit and checking out my new condo. Dad wanted to make sure it was “up to scratch,” as he put it, which seemed like the kind of thing one would do before their daughter set up a mortgage, but whatever.
The afternoon sun shone harshly through the windows that looked out at my back porch, glinting off the polished countertops and illuminating the little specks of dust in the air. I watched as they danced, floating amongst each other, and wished I could feel as weightless as them.
No matter the topic of conversation, I found my mind spinning. When they would tell me about Aaron’s baby girl, my stomach tumbled, my own broodiness overwhelming, and the idea of having to tell them what I was doing made me nauseous. When they would tell me about literally anything else, like their planned cruise to the Bahamas next year or their bingo nights, my mind filled with thoughts of my next-door neighbor and what I’d done yesterday. I still couldn’t believe I’d stayed in that window. I couldn’t believe he’d offered me to join him, buck naked in the midday heat and glistening with sweat. Even from a distance, I could tell how large he was. It made my mouth water even now.
“Soph?”
I blinked away the thoughts fogging my mind for a moment as I turned my head toward my dad. “Sorry, I missed that.”
He laughed the way he always did when something tickled him—full-bellied, head tipped back. “I asked if you’d made any plans to see Aaron and Michelle. You’d love Brynn.”
God dammit. Back to babies again. I wrung my hands under the table, fighting the urge to say what bubbled on the tip of my tongue. “Uh, no, not yet. I’ve been so busy, you know, with the business. Haven’t had a chance to think about it.”
“We’re going up there next week if you’d like to join us,” Mom piped up around a mouthful of macaroni and cheese. Aaron had moved to Bar Harbor, Maine, a couple of years ago after meeting Michelle on one of those dating apps. It was a lovely place, but it was quiet, and I didn’t quite understand the pull of it when there was so much more to do even here in the suburbs of Boston.
I rolled my lips between my teeth. “Uh, yeah, maybe. I’ll have to see if I have time.”
“Oh, come on, sweetie. You can make time to meet your little niece, right? She’s at that cute stage where they stop lookin’ like a raisin and start lookin’ all plump—”
“Martin!” My mother’s open hand slapped him lightly in the gut. “Brynnie does not look like a raisin.”
Dad laughed again as he grabbed for my mother’s hand, planting a little kiss on the back of her palm. “I know, darling. That’s what I was getting at.”
I chuckled as I imagined a newborn, wrinkled skin and fragile, weightless in my arms. I’d seen the pictures of Brynn that Aaron had sent me, had seen the ones Michelle had posted online, but in my imagination, it wasn’t Brynn in my arms. No, it was a brown-haired little girl, a mini-me with bright blue eyes and olive skin, her tiny fingers wrapped like a vice around my finger. The ache in my chest from the intense want for her to be real nearly stole the breath from my lungs.
“Why do you look so sad, bug?” Mom asked, evaporating the image from my mind within a second as if it were only passing smoke. “I thought you’d be excited to hear about Brynn.”
“No, I am, Mom. And I’d love to meet her.”
“Then what’s going on with you?” Her hand snaked across the table, finding mine. I hadn’t even realized my fingers were balled into a fist until she loosened the grip I had. “You don’t seem like yourself.”
I could be honest. I could say what I’m feeling without giving anything away, right? I took a deep breath, forcing a small smile across my lips. “To be honest, Mom, I’m just a little jealous.”
Her head tilted, her brow furrowing as she blinked at me in confusion. “Bug, you’re only twenty-six. And you’re single. You’ve got to focus on finding someone and getting married before you even start to want that.” Dad fiddled with his watch, clearly a little uncomfortable with my admission.
“I know,” I sighed. “It’s just… I’m so ready for it. It’s just a little hard knowing it’s not within reach yet, and that when it finally is, it won’t be easy.” Not a complete lie.
“Oh, bug.” Mom flashed a sad smile at me as she squeezed my knuckles together, something that should have been reassuring but just felt wrong. “I’m sure when you find the right man, God will make sure it isn’t hard for you.”
I wasn’t sure if she caught the flinch that rippled across my face in the blink of an eye. I didn’t need a man to get what I wanted, and I definitely didn’t need a god to make a miracle happen—not unless they wanted me to be turned into some kind of Mary figure. I needed IVF, I needed sperm from the donor facility, and I needed myself. That was it.
“Right, sorry sweetie but it’s getting late and we’ve got bingo tonight,” Dad said, an effort to clear the awkwardness in the air. He stood, picking up his plate and Mom’s as well. “You’re welcome to join us next week at church if you’d like. I know it’s across town, but it could help you.”
After taking the plates from my dad and picking up my own, I scraped the leftover bits into the garbage disposal. It was enough to distract me for all of two seconds. “That’s sweet, Dad, but I’ve got plans. Maybe the week after,” I lied.
Dad nodded. Placing his hand on top of my mom’s blonde mop, he ruffled her hair, annoying her the way he always did and the way she loved most. “Come on, darling. Let’s get going.”
Mom pushed her chair back from the table, the squeak along the tile floor making me want to grind my teeth. Despite only being in their mid-fifties, Dad still offered her his hands, hoisting her up the way he always did.
“I’ll walk you guys out.”
The warmth of the outside air hit me like a wall of bricks as I opened the door, completely at odds with the coolness of my house. I had to squint to keep the sun from burning my retinas as my dad walked out, my mom following behind, looking back to make sure I was close to her. Across the lawn, in the still heat of his driveway, my neighbor was bent at the waist over the innards of his Mercedes. My breath caught in my throat from both the humiliation of yesterday and the fact that he was topless and sweaty. Again.
“You know, Soph,” Mom started, her voice quiet, “I really think coming to church on Sunday would do you some good. I understand how you’re feeling.”
I could barely pay attention to her. My thoughts were twisting and spiraling, my gaze fixed solely on the way his muscles flexed as he twisted a wrench, tighter and tighter. It felt like the bolt was inside of me, fixing me in place.
“I went through a similar thing in my early twenties, bug,” Mom continued, her voice sounding further and further away. If only I was on the hood of his car. Would he fuck me like that? “My friends started getting married and having babies. I knew how unholy it was to fall pregnant outside of marriage, so I went back to church, started praying for a man. Blessed be, I found your father a month later.”
He looked directly at me as he stood up straight, his abs flexing from the movement, wrench still in hand. A wry smirk spread across his lips. He’s eavesdropping.
“I don’t want you to fall down the beaten path, sweetheart. It’s important to keep your morals—”
My head spun around to face her, finally picking up on her words. “Beaten path? I want a child, Mom, not heroin.”
“I know, but it’s so easy to get swept up in one-night-stands and such these days. I worry for you, honey,” she said quietly, one hand on the door handle of their white Ford F150. Her phone dinged in her handbag, and she quickly fished it out. “Oh! Would you look at that? It’s Aaron and little Brynnie.”
She held the phone out to me. A photo of my grinning brother and an equally ecstatic little girl in his lap, her hands clapped together and her mouth a huge smile. The hole in my chest grew a little bit wider, a little bit deeper, a little bit more empty.
The words fell out of me before I could stop them.
“I’m doing IVF,” I whispered quietly. A rush of relief flooded me, but the moment my words were processed by my mother, the solace turned as sour as her face. “Mom—”
“You’re what?” She pressed, her voice turning cold, angry, bitter. The slight wrinkles on her face deepened, anger making her look older. “You don’t even have a boyfriend, Sophia! Are you telling me right now that you’re actively trying to become pregnant?”
I swallowed what little saliva remained in my mouth. It went dry, filling with what felt like sand, and the brightness of the sun became far too overwhelming. Had I been transported to the desert? “Mom, calm down—”
“Did you hear that, Martin?”
I was going to be sick. I could feel it in the back of my throat, that familiar sensation of acid clouding my better judgment. “I’m engaged,” I said, the words hollow on my tongue, the lie flowing from me so easily that I hadn’t even considered how ridiculous it was.
Her lips went flat, her head tilted to the side. A look that said I don’t believe you. “Oh yeah? And why haven’t we heard this before? Where’s the ring?”
“I…” I fiddled with my hands, feeling for a ring I knew I wouldn’t find. Shit. Think, Sophie, think. “I didn’t want to tell you until I knew it was serious. And then I got so wrapped up in the move and getting my business going. I know I should have told you guys earlier. I’m sorry. My ring is upstairs.”
Mom’s brows creased deeper as she looked me up and down. Dad stood on the driver’s side, his gaze fixed on me, a hint of suspicion in his eyes. I had to make this work. I had to make them believe it. I wasn’t ready to lose them, not yet.
“So, who is he, then?” Dad asked, his voice less angry than Mom’s.
“He…” I bit my lower lip, wracking my brain for any sort of explanation I could come up with. I could make someone up, but of course they would want to meet him. It was better than nothing, I supposed, I could figure something out between then and now. But…wait. No. I can’t.
I have to.
My pulse was pounding in my throat as I took a step, my bare feet crunching in the grass between our lawns. Another step, and I wanted to throw myself off a cliff. But I’d committed to what I was about to do. I couldn’t turn back, not after I crossed the property line between our houses, not as he stared at me in confusion, those green eyes blazing. Not after I took his grease-covered, massive hand in mine, and not even after I began pulling him toward my parents with my eyes locked on his. Please. Please, go along with it. I know you were listening.
To my immediate surprise, he doesn’t fight me. He comes without a second thought, a filthy rag in one hand and my fingers in the other. You owe me, he mouthed, a sly grin on his face.
He planted his croc-covered feet in the grass in front of my mom, dropping my hand so he could rub the sludge off his with the rag. “Afternoon,” he said to her, and fuck me his voice sounded like browned butter, thick and heady. “You must be my dear fiancée’s parents.”
He was listening. I knew it.
He held out his cleanest hand.
Mom shook it, her suspicions lessened.
“I’m Hudson,” he beamed. “I’m sorry we haven’t had the chance to meet yet. This one,” he jutted a finger at me, “was so nervous to tell you about me that she had me over there working on her neighbor’s car.”
“Hudson,” Mom enunciated slowly as if she was tasting every letter of his name. “When did you—”
“Pop the question?” He finished for her as his gaze slowly slid to me. It made my heart hammer in my chest the way he looked at me, as if he were some kind of professional actor, doing his best to show love as he looked at his ‘fiancée.’ “Couple weeks ago. I took her to the Gardner Museum. She was so busy staring at the statues in the garden that she didn’t even realize I’d dropped to one knee.” He laughed. How did he know I liked that museum? Lucky guess?
He wrapped an arm around me and I stiffened, the display of affection catching me off guard. No matter how much I wanted this to work, no matter how well I tried to play my part, all I could think about was what I’d seen out my window the day before, and what hid beneath the shorts he was wearing.
He placed a kiss on the side of my head, right above my ear. Although I felt like I couldn’t breathe, I knew I was because I could smell him all around me—sweet and thick like rum, with a hint of citrus and wood. The small bit of sweat he’d built up did nothing to mask it.
“Right, well, I guess congratulations are in order,” Mom said slowly, glancing between me, my father, and the man to my left who I now knew was named Hudson. I wasn’t sure if it was worse now that I knew his name. “We should come over for dinner soon. Get to know one another.”
“Absolutely,” Hudson grinned. “I’d love that.”
My parents hopped into their truck. As they pulled out of the driveway, they stared me down, confusion and surprise the only words capable of describing the vibes they put off. Hudson held me to him in silence until they were no longer within sight, until we couldn’t even hear the hint of the engine anymore.
I slithered out from under his arm the moment it felt safe to do so.
I didn’t know what to say to him. How to thank him, to tell him how much it meant to me, how much he’d saved my ass by playing along. I wanted to form the words, I could feel them on the tip of my tongue, but each time I tried to open my mouth, it felt like it’d be sewn shut.
“You don’t need to thank me,” he said calmly, as if reading my mind, the words coming so easily to him. I was jealous.
“Okay,” I whispered. It was the only word that I could manage.
If only I could have said more before turning and bolting back inside my house, sick from the stress and embarrassment of the entire afternoon.
