cry about Ted. About Astrid. About losing them both on the very same day. And I cry for myself. For the lonely girl I used to be. Who never got the love she wanted. The love she deserved. Not from Ted, anyway.
“I’m sorry, Bird,” Eric whispers. “I’m so sorry.”
On the third time he says this, I break away to look at him. He gazes back at me, and our hands collide as we lift them to wipe away my tears. He’s an excellent husband. An excellent man. I’ve never doubted that. Not once since the night I met him. The night he cleaned up the puke in a complete stranger’s hair.
What a gift it is, to be certain that he loves me. It’s a marvel, really. It’s a miracle.
“Before we talk about Ted,” I say, “I need to tell you something.”
I practiced this speech the whole way back from Cedar, but my voice still quakes.
“I want to make you happy,” I continue.
“You do make me happy. I love you, Bird.”
“No, I know, it’s just—growing up, all I wanted to do was make Ted happy. Because when I made him happy, he paid attention to me. But that was…” I pluck a tissue from the box on the coffee table. Soak up the tears under my eyes. “I know that was all a part of his manipulation. But it was a hard habit to break—conceding to him, silencing my needs and concerns. Which explains some things about how I’ve acted with you, I think.”
Eric’s forehead wrinkles. “Are you saying I’m not attentive enough?”
“No,” I’m quick to say. “No, not at all. What I’m saying is…” I take a deep breath. “I wasn’t ready to start trying for a baby. I was too nervous. Too anxious. I would have liked more time.”
Eric’s eyes go wide. “I didn’t know that. Bird, if I pressured you at all, then I’m—”
“You didn’t. And that’s the thing—you didn’t know because I never told you. Because I was afraid that if I didn’t give you what you wanted, then you’d…”
“Then I’d what?”
“I don’t know. Realize you’d made some big mistake in marrying me, I guess. Realize you wanted to be… elsewhere.”
He actually laughs. But it’s a sweet sound. It’s kind.
“That would never happen,” he says.
I nod. Look down at the tissue balled in my hand. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you.”
“It’s okay,” he says. “You’re telling me now. And we can wait until you’re ready. Of course we can.”
I meet his eyes again. I don’t know if he can see the wince in mine. “Well, that’s the thing,” I begin. “I lied to you at Ted’s. I didn’t have my period.”
His eyes narrow with confusion, and I rush ahead so I can say it myself before he understands it on his own.
“I’m pregnant. And I didn’t know how to deal with that yet, which is why I didn’t tell you. I was so scared, because so much can happen to a child. It’s such a huge responsibility to keep someone safe, and that’s why I was so nervous to start trying in the first place. But I think—I think I can do it. I think I’m stronger than I’ve given myself credit for. I mean, I’ll be paranoid and anxious all the time—that won’t change, I’m sure. But I want this baby. I want to have a family. I want to give this child everything I never had growing up. Which is just love, really. And attention. And protection.”
His face hasn’t moved since I started. His lips are parted a little and I can hear the breath slipping through them. I prepare myself for the possibility of his anger. I lied to him, after all, and you shouldn’t lie to the people you love.
“I’m sorry I—” I start. But he cuts me off.
“You’re pregnant?”
And there’s hope in his voice, not anger. The hope is tentative, though.
“Yes,” I say.
He smiles for a moment, his face as bright as the room, but then he stops. Grows serious. “And you’re okay with that?”
“I’m terrified,” I say. Because I will not lie to my husband again. “But yes. I’m okay with it. I’m actually—”
I don’t get to finish my sentence. Eric is up off the couch, pulling me into his arms, laughing as he kisses my forehead, my face, my lips. He has one hand on my cheek, the other cupping the back of my neck. He’s an excellent husband. An excellent man. He’ll make an excellent father, too. I’ve been