Eric, Jody Kaye [well read books TXT] 📗

I watch Eric’s dissatisfaction rise while rinsing dinner dishes in the sink. “Would it bother you if I tried solving it?” 

Eric’s always been a whiz at math, so the simple equations when his online seminar in economics began were a breeze for him. As the course has intensified, he can’t seem to find the correct answer compounding interest for a product. He’s also beat from working this week at a Cavanaugh Construction site. The heat steaming off his neck is one part frustration and another the end result of days in the sun.

“Knock yourself out.” Eric pushes back from the tiny table we eat dinner at, letting me take his place in front of the laptop and loose leaf paper he’s chicken scratched all over.

He places his hands on the shoulders of my red work shirt, brushing my long blonde hair over my back, and watching me hunch over the “bump in the road” splitting my middle.

“It’s not due till next week, so don’t—”

“Got it. Right there. See?” I scoot the other chair over so Eric will sit down next while I explain the math.

“You should have still gone to school,” he remarks when we’re finished, proud of my teaching skills.

My brow arches and I poke my swollen belly. It’s grown again in the past week.

Given our current situation, there’s no way it would have worked out for this semester anyhow. At this point, I’m resigned to asking customers if they are “saving five percent today” the same way anyone else inquires, “do you want fries with that?” I’m damn lucky to have a job with close to full-time hours since the summer help has disappeared. I get an additional discount on the things we have to buy and it’s the icing on the cake I need nowadays.

“Fútbol!”

Eric and I locked eyes hearing the wail from the other side of the wall. Mateo is never loud.

“How about you watch the Quasimodo movie again instead?”

“NO! Fútbol!”

“Fine, I’ll ask!” Cris shouts back, losing his patience.

A knock from outside follows. Eric walks across the room to answer the door. He’s greeted by a glowering Cris and optimistic Mateo who holds a soccer ball.

“I’m sorry to interrupt.” Cris puts a squirming Mateo down.

The hopeful toddler stands there rolling his lips to hide an adorable smile. 

“I’ve tried everything, even playing soccer with him. But he thinks you are better than I am, so he won’t play with me. Can you help me out for ten minutes?” Cris begs. “It’s past bedtime and, at the rate Mateo’s going, unless the kid burns off some energy, hitting the sack won’t happen anytime soon.”

“Sure.” Eric squats down to Mateo’s height, switching between English and Spanish. “Can I juego with you?”

Mateo hands the ball over and points to Eric’s eyes.

“¿Dónde está Esmeralda?”

“Esmeralda?” Eric questions Cris, frowning.

“He misses your sister. Daveigh looks like the girl in the movie he keeps watching. I’m counting the days till she’s back for Thanksgiving since her leaving for Texas State coincided with when the terrible twos kicked in.” He scrubs his beard. Daveigh babysat a lot for Cris over the summer while they settled in at Kingsbrier.

“Esmeralda estará en casa pronto.” Eric tells the little boy as if he’s trying to convince himself she’ll come home soon.

Saying goodbye to Colton in July was hard enough for Eric. However, the day his three other siblings left the nest was as if he’d been drawn and quartered. His right arm is stationed in Pensacola and his left is now in Virginia. His right leg went to College Station and the other on to San Marcos.

I finish the last of the dishes while they kick the ball in the stableyard and go to rest my swollen ankles. A half an hour later, Eric comes back into the apartment. He shucks his jeans and clamors onto the bed like a kid, settling down on his elbows. Then he kisses my belly through my nightshirt.

“I’m exhausted,” he grunts.

It’s after eight at night. He’s worked all day, done homework, and played with the neighbor’s kid.

I touch his sweaty blonde locks. “Mateo is good practice.”

Eric leans his face against my stomach, getting poked in return by the baby’s shifting limb.

“It’s like you have Colton in there sometimes.” He jerks, pretending he’s been waylaid by his twin’s punch, making us laugh.

“Have you heard from him?”

“Not at all. Maybe it’s what is getting to me lately. Colton is like Adam, but different. Sort of the same way I love my sisters for being complete opposites. We looked after Colton for so long. Even though he left before they did it’s still weird not having to keep tabs on him. Knowing he is someone else’s problem is strange. What if that someone isn’t invested in making sure he doesn’t fuck up? All I know is without the four of them around, sometimes I feel like my head is about to explode.”

“Your brothers and sisters probably feel the same way. Besides, Colton hasn’t washed out of any program yet. Maybe he fits in the Navy like a round peg in a round hole and at Kingsbrier he was hammering himself into a square one. You know, like those mallet toys we had when we were kids.”

“Douche used to hit us all with that damn hammer. My momma took it away and he used his head to get the shapes through.”

“He did not!”

“Did too. Okay, maybe I’m exaggerating. We need to think positive, though.”

“That your brother is doing okay?”

“No, that the baby won’t turn out like him!”

“You’re worrying too much. Sometimes I feel like it’s all we do.” I snuggle down against the pillows. Eric shimmies up toward the headboard.

“Are you happy, Sugar?”

I frown, but my voice is light. “I am. I completely messed up our whole lives and at the end of the day when you fall asleep beside me, I couldn’t feel more blessed.”

“Me too.” His voice is soft. “I’m glad you’re still here.”

I doubt this spring, he’d felt the same way.

“Where else would I be? I love you.”

He won’t return the sentiment. Eric hasn’t told me he loves me in months. Attempting to let him keep his pride, I roll to the side and push my bottom against his front.

A moan escapes me as Eric’s hands roam up to my breasts. He slides my panties down and pulls my top leg up, burying himself inside of me. Because of my size, we’re resorting to new positions. Blissful ones we should’ve tried before I was pregnant.

________________

The next morning, we lie in bed with the comforter tucked up to our noses, warding off the mid-September morning’s chill. While we’re getting ready for the day, Eric suggests I take a twenty from his wallet and use my employee discount to get a cozy blanket for the bed.

I stop to gander at the dog-eared calendar on the fridge, reminding him I have a doctor’s appointment. However, Eric’s so focused on checking to see if the apartments need added insulation, it slips his mind.

“Where have you been?” He’s surprised I wasn’t home when he got in. 

“Miss Rose came with me to my appointment today.” I’m on cloud nine, holding up a grainy picture the size of a playing card. “Wanna see?”

Eric snatches the ultrasound. “What on earth? This looks nothing like the pictures you’ve shown me before. You can’t tell at all it’s even a baby this time.”

“That’s because it’s a close up and you aren’t looking at its head.”

“A close up of what?”

“When you figure it out, let me know.” I squeeze his bicep. “Your momma is over the moon. She wants us up at the house for a big dinner.”

Eric studies the black and white before it registers what part of his child he’s looking at. His hands fall in disbelief and he has to catch the ultrasound image as it flies out of his hand.

His expression is priceless.

“Holy—a boy? We’re having a baby boy? I thought we were waiting until the delivery? That was what you kept saying you wanted.” 

“His rump was in the air.” I dash about, getting together the items I offered for us to contribute to the meal while describing how his son left us no way to unsee what was on the video screen.

Every step closer to the baby’s birth makes him more of a person. More like Mateo, who is a cool little dude. Though, I’m unsure of how Cris manages raising his son alone, it gives me faith together Eric and I won’t fail miserably.

“My son,” he echoes. His knees give out and a sofa cushion softens the fall.

“Eric, Eric?” I stand before my stunned boyfriend. He doesn’t have a clue how he wound up on the couch. “We’ll be late if you don’t get a move on.”

“I need a minute.” He drags me to sit down next to him.

“I thought you’d be happy.” Now I’m concerned. We’d made a pact to keep the gender a secret, but it wasn’t like the kid gave us a choice. The happiness ebbs away and the full weight of what I’ve done by getting pregnant settles on my shoulders again. I blew it again. I’d promised we’d wait.

Fighting back tears, I wring my hands and pick a thick hangnail. If tears it will sting and bleed. “Are you mad at me?”

He has every right to be.

“I love you.” Eric breaks his silence, using the three words I haven’t heard in months and tips my chin up, kissing me.

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18

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This week alone, I’ve put on three shirts which no longer fit and I’m glad the days of wearing a bright red Coleman tent to work are coming to an end. Purchasing anything in a bigger size fills me with dread. My feet ache from standing behind the registers even though my shifts are shorter. I’m working part-time right as the store management hires for the holidays.

“Are you scheduled for Black Friday?” I asked Brier over the phone when Thanksgiving was a week away. Somehow I’ve been given time off on a day they need all hands on deck. I’m also unwilling to look a gift horse in the mouth.

“Nope. Not starting back until holiday break. I’ll work through the middle of January. The manager told me they’re short-staffed this winter since someone is having a baby right before Christmas. Can you imagine the nerve of that woman?”

“You’re horrible.”

“No, I’ll be horrible if you give birth to my nephew before I get home to be there, though.”

“We’re not ready. He needs to stay put a little longer.” I move, cracking my back, hoping to ease the discomfort.

Does any