"I miss her," Charlie said, and he looked away from his sister as if there was something in the sink that really, really needed studying. His shoulders shook with a sob and Jane went to him and held him as he slumped to his knees.
"I really miss her."
"I know you do."
"I hate this kitchen."
"Right there with you, kid."
The good sister, she was.
"I see this kitchen and I see her face and I can't handle it."
"Yes, you can. You will. It will get better."
"Maybe I should move or something."
"You do what you think you need to, but pain travels pretty well." Jane rubbed his shoulders and his neck, as if his grief was a knot in a muscle that could be worked out under direct pressure.
After a few minutes he was back, functioning, sitting at the counter between Sophie and Jane, drinking a cup of coffee. "You think I'm just imagining all this, then?"
Jane sighed. "Charlie, Rachel was the center of your universe. Anyone who saw you guys together knew that. Your life revolved around her. With Rachel gone, it's like you have no center, nothing to ground you, you're all wobbly and unstable, so things seem unreal. But you do have a center."
"I do?"
"It's you. I don't have a Rachel, or anyone like her on the horizon, but I'm not spinning out of control."
"So you're saying I need to be self-centered, like you?"
"I guess I am. Do you think that makes me a bad person?"
"Do you care?"
"Good point. Are you going to be okay? I need to go buy some yoga DVDs. I'm starting a class tomorrow."
"If you're going to take a class, then why do you need DVDs?"
"I have to look like I know what I'm doing or no one will go out with me. You going to be okay?"
"I'll be okay. I just can't go in the kitchen, or look at anything in the apartment, or listen to music, or watch TV."
"Okay then, have fun," Jane said, tweaking the baby's nose on the way out the door.
When she was gone, Charlie sat at the counter for a while looking at baby Sophie. Strangely enough, she was the only thing in the apartment that didn't remind him of Rachel. She was a stranger. She looked at him - those wide blue eyes - with sort of an odd, glazed look. Not with the adoration or wonder that you might expect, more like she'd been drinking and would be leaving as soon as she found her car keys.
"Sorry," Charlie said, averting his gaze to a stack of unpaid bills by the phone. He could feel the kid watching him, wondering, he thought, how many terry-cloth puppet people she'd have to blow to get a decent father over here. Still, he checked that she was securely strapped in her chair, then went off to grab the undone laundry, because he was, in fact, going to be a very good father.
Beta Males almost always make good fathers. They tend to be steady and responsible, the kind of guys a girl (if she was resolved to do without the seven-figure salary or the thirty-six-inch vertical leap) would want as a father for her children. Of course, she'd rather not have to sleep with him for that to happen, but after you've been kicked to the curb by a few Alpha Males, the idea of waking up in the arms of a guy who will adore you, if for no other reason than gratitude for sex, and will always be there, even past the point where you can stand to have him around, is a comfortable compromise.
For the Beta Male, if nothing else, is loyal. He makes a great husband as well as a great best friend. He will help you move and bring you soup when you are sick. Always considerate, the Beta Male thanks a woman after sex, and is often quick with an apology as well. He makes a great house sitter, especially if you aren't especially attached to your house pets. A Beta Male is trustworthy: your girlfriend is generally in safe hands with a Beta Male friend, unless, of course, she is a complete slut. (In fact, the complete slut through history may be exclusively responsible for the survival of the Beta Male gene, for loyal as he may be, the Beta Male is helpless in the face of charging, unimaginary bosoms.)
And while the Beta Male has the potential to be a great husband and