Page 37 of Possessed Silverfox
“I’ll need new clothes soon. Everything I’ve packed is starting to feel too tight.” She gets up and walks over to her dresser, pulling out a pair of sweatpants and a fresh pair of underwear. She steps into them.
She frowns. “Is your mother going to chastise me for wearing sweats at the table?” she asks.
“No. You can do anything you want now that you’re with child,” I joke, pulling my pants and shirt back on.
Eleanor laughs. “Do you know what she said to me? She cornered me the other day, stared into my soul, and said, ‘You’re with child.’ It was terrifying.”
“Oh, my God, I’ll have to talk to her,” I grumble.
“No, it’s fine. I got my shit together and bought a test the next morning. I should thank her.”
“She cornered me on the stairs today, too.”
“So that’s why you interrogated me without so much as a ‘hello’?”
“I needed to know. She got in my head.”
I contemplated telling Eleanor what my mother told me about my dad and his accident. But as I open my mouth, my mother yells, “Dinner’s ready!”
Eleanor and I walk to the table holding hands; there’s no use hiding it now. My mother beams, but it doesn’t reach her eyes. I can see the worried V between her eyebrows. “So, the two of you had your big talk!” She hoots as she scoops salad onto our plates.
“Yeah,” Eleanor says.
“Good. Open communication is key when you’re parenting,” my mother declares, plopping an extra roll on Eleanor’s plate. “Eat up, dear. You’re eating for two.”
She unearths a bottle of sparkling cider for Eleanor and hands me a glass of wine.
“I, for one, have always wanted a grandchild.”
“I know! You’ve been bugging me for grandkids since I turned thirty.”
“And it worked!” She winks at Eleanor, “See what a little persistence gets you?”
Eleanor laughs. “It’s good to know this baby will be loved.”
Later that night, I felt the mattress shift beside me. At first, I’m paranoid that it’s Beatrix or whatever ice-cold creature occupied my bed that one morning, but then I smell the scent of Eleanor’s shampoo.
“Hi,” she breathes against the back of my neck. I roll over to face her and pull her to me.
“Hi,” I reply. “Were you having trouble sleeping?”
“I just didn’t feel like sleeping alone.” Eleanor kisses me slowly in the dark. I cup her ass and squeeze. She giggles as we part.
“Well, you know you’re always welcome here,” I whisper.
“Good. For a moment, I thought your mom was going to kick me out for getting knocked up on the job,” Eleanor’s trying to pass it off as a joke, but I hear a hint of fear in her voice.
“She would never do that. If anything, she’s over the moon. I had to tell her three times that you wouldn’t want her to tag along to our appointment next Thursday,” I say. ‘Our’ appointment slips out, and I’m surprised at how easy it is to think of Eleanor and me as a unit. I always regarded my friends and their wives with a hint of disbelief; how could two lives meld together so seamlessly? How could people get used to living together and match up their lives like puzzle pieces? But with Eleanor, it feels easy.
“Yeah, I’m glad she’s excited.” Eleanor rests her head on my chest.
“What about your parents?” I ask suddenly. All this talk of my mother and Eleanor’s never once mentioned her parents. I have half a mind to think she’s an orphan, although do people even call it that anymore?
“It’s a little complicated. I mean, it’s not, actually. My dad’s dead. He died of cancer when I was a freshman in college. I was out of the house, but it was still brutal. And, my mom, let’s just say not everyone gets a mom who is as cool as Iphigenia.”
“I’m going to stop you right there. My mom’s not cool. She collects vintage books about birding.”
“But she’d never ditch you for a guy closer to your age than hers and start a new family.”