Page 32 of The Wrong Track
“You don’t have to,” I said, and stood up abruptly. Then I held onto the edge of his desk, because that had felt really strange.
“What’s wrong?” he asked sharply.
“Nothing. Maybe I’ll take a shower.”
“Again?” he asked, but added, “No, I’m not the shower police.”
“Maybe I’ll change my clothes.” The sweater and sweatpants I was wearing were much too tight and restrictive. “Can I borrow something of yours?”
“Won’t my stuff be too big on you?” But then he looked at my stomach and nodded, and I knew that my ass was in just the same condition: heartbreakingly huge. “The pants will be too long on you for sure. I don’t want you to trip.”
Then I almost started to cry because that was so nice. “I won’t.”
“Then take anything you want,” he told me. “Bill’s coming to pick me up.”
“He can drive now?”
“His brace is off.” Tobin looked regretfully at his own leg. “I wish I could cut myself free of this thing.”
“Soon enough,” I tried to reassure him. Then I frowned, shrugging my shoulders and twisting my neck. I felt so wrong.
“Maybe you should take a nap,” he suggested. “You could be tired.”
He knew that I hadn’t been sleeping that well, because my silly dreams kept him up, too. They’d been coming almost every night, now. “No, I’m going to go shower,” I disagreed. And he didn’t say a word about my excessive water use or extreme cleanliness. I heard him leave, calling goodbye to me as I was drying off (again).
Tobin’s room was a place where I had spent some time. I’d been there a lot of nights because he still had trouble sleeping himself. Sometimes he just couldn’t get comfortable with his leg frozen in the cast. We’d read some good stuff together, some books that I might have already known if I’d stuck around to finish high school. I had put away laundry, too, folding it a lot more neatly than he ever had, and he’d bragged about how his drawers looked like a clothes store now. I opened one of those drawers and brushed my fingertips across his soft t-shirts. A funny, gripping ache—no, a pain—no, just a weird feeling swept over me and I froze for a few moments, but it went away.
His sweatpants were too big but did make me feel marginally better because they were also soft, and all his clothes smelled good. Mine should have smelled the same way because I was washing them with the same stuff, but there was an obvious difference. I watched myself in the mirror as I pulled them on and a pale, bloated woman looked back at me.
As much as Kilian had wanted this baby, he would have been so angry at how my body had changed. He liked me thin, not muscular, but thin. He’d watched what I’d eaten and had done what he called the “fat test,” pinching my waist or my thigh to see how much was loose there. Currently there was a lot loose, and even more was distended and swollen and horrible.
I went to my bed to lie down, then when that didn’t work, I went to the couch and lay there with Tobin’s TV turned to decorating shows. I did fall asleep for a little while, but I was definitely awake when Lulu showed up.
She eyed me very suspiciously when I opened the door. “Where’s Toby?” she asked immediately.
I gripped the doorframe as another pain washed over me. Yes, it was definitely pain now, a lot of pain, and they’d been coming regularly. “He’s not here,” I gasped out.
Lulu’s eyebrows drew down. “What’s wrong with you?” she asked even more suspiciously. Her eyes went to my stomach, which I was clutching. “Are you having that baby or something? Are you? Oh, shit!” She ducked under my arm and into the living room. “Where’s Toby?”
“I’m fine,” I told her, straightening up as it eased. “I’m fine. I don’t need any help.”
She shook her head at me. “I don’t believe you,” she said, and told her phone to call Toby. After a second she said into it, “This girl is going to have the baby right on your floor. Yes, now!” She listened. “Ok, I will.”
“I’m fine,” I said again. I made my way to the couch and sat but immediately stood back up to walk around, which I’d been doing for the last two hours or so because I couldn’t seem to stay in one place without total misery.
“He said to ask what you need,” she stated. “What do you need?”
“Nothing.” I leaned against the wall, resting my forehead on my arms.
“He also said to ask if you’ve packed a bag.”
“What?” I picked up my head. “Does he want me to move out right now?” I didn’t think I could at this moment but I was going to leave for sure. I had plenty of time to get myself to Arizona—or San Diego—Texas—
Lulu stared at me like I was an idiot. “You need a bag to stay in the hospital, of course! You have to stay there for a while after you give birth and you have to wear clothes when you leave. My cousin was there forever after she had her son. It’s because all the women in our family are really petite and beautiful,” she explained, “and the baby was so big, it ripped her to pieces. Her vag, I mean, and I don’t think it’s ever going back to normal down there. Ok, I’ll pack for you.”
She kind of skipped off down the hallway toward my bedroom as I said, “No. No, you shouldn’t pack for me!”
“Oh my Lord, is this really your underwear?” she called back. “What does Toby say about this?”