There’s also the baby’s health that keeps me up at night. It seems so small and fragile, like everything and anything could hurt it. Since I’ve been going for free checkups at the health department, I’ve only had one ultrasound to make sure there was a heartbeat, which there was, thumping loud and clear over the speakers. I won’t get to see my baby on a scan for another few weeks, and it sucks.
The days go by so slowly, but too quickly at the same time.
And while I’m not a medical doctor, I think this constant miserable emotion hanging over my head like a grey cloud is severe depression.
Malcolm
* * *
I’ve kept myself busy for the past few months, refusing to give in to the desire to check in on Naomi. Mostly, I was afraid that I’m so weak for her that just seeing her face would have me asking her to come back into my life.
Which would be stupid.
I’m better off without her.
At least that’s what I keep telling myself constantly, and it’s what I’m thinking about one day when I stop at a local gas station in the middle of town to fill up my bike.
While I’m waiting for the pump to cut off, I glance around at the strip mall across the street, and that’s when I spot her.
The first thing I notice is her belly, answering one of the burning questions on my mind. Fuck. She’s still determined to have this kid. I want to hate her for not taking the easy way out, for still planning to drag me through the hell of lawyers and courtrooms as she comes after me for child support. But mostly I’m pissed because I didn’t know what she had decided, and I missed out on so many months with her that I barely recognize her now.
Then, I realize that she’s not just popping into the twenty-four-hour restaurant to eat but to work. She’s wearing a uniform, carrying trays of food when she should be at home with her feet up, resting as she grows a human.
Walking inside the gas station, I pour myself a cup of coffee because I’m not ready to leave yet and I’m trying to talk myself out of walking across the street. Then, I just stand at the second window watching her run around on her feet for what feels like an eternity. She stops only occasionally for something to drink and eat while clutching her belly the whole time like it hurts.
Is she okay?
Is the baby okay?
“Dude,” a guy says when he walks up behind where I’m standing with my arms crossed over my chest, still staring out the same window again a few days later. “I let the first hour slide, but now this stalking thing you’re doing has gone on long enough. Am I really gonna have to call the cops to make you leave?”
I glare over my shoulder to see who the hell is speaking to me. It’s the skinny kid who runs the gas station register, and my enraged face dares him to call the police. “What the fuck do you care if I stand here? I’m not in anyone’s way, and I buy gas and a carton of smokes every day when I come in,” I point out defensively.
“Who are you looking at?” he asks, strolling up right beside me so that our shoulders are almost touching, not the least bit intimidated by me. Guess he’s grown a pair of balls after probably getting robbed at least a few times a year in this joint.
“None of your fucking business,” I snap at him.
“The blonde?” he asks. “Her face is hot if you can get past the gut…”
“She’s pregnant, dipshit!”
“Oh,” he says. Putting his face closer to the glass and squinting, he says, “Yeah, I can see that now. My bad. Is it yours?”
I don’t respond.
“Why are we watching your baby mama from here instead of just going into the restaurant?” he asks. “It’s a public place too.”
“We aren’t doing shit,” I remark. “And I don’t want to see her.”
“Three days man. Today is the third day in a row you’ve come to see her, so I think what you mean is that you don’t want to talk to her.”
“Nothing to say.”
“You could start with, ‘Hi, honey. Big baby stomach you’ve got there. I miss you. Do you miss me?’”
“Fuck off,” I tell him, even though it’s a little eerie how he nailed my nickname for her down like that.
“I would fuck off, man, really I would. But you see, this is actually my store. That’s why I came up to you just now, to tell you to fuck off or I’m gonna call the cops and report you as a creeper.”
“You really own this store?” I ask in surprise since he’s younger than me.
“Yeah. My father gave it to me a year back when he retired. Wants to keep it in the family, you know?”
“No, I don’t know.”
“About the father part or family business part?”
“Neither.”
“Wow, that’s surprising,” the kid says with a low whistle.
“What the hell are you talking about?” I grumble.
“Of all people, I would think you growing up without a dad, knowing firsthand about what the emptiness of not having a parent in your life feels like, would make you determined to be a part of your son or daughter’s life.”
“Fuck off,” I tell him again because I don’t need his judgment.
“Whatever,” he says, walking over behind us to grab a pack of M&Ms from the closest shelf and come back. He rips it open and dumps a handful in his palm, then tosses them into his mouth. “Getting pissed at me doesn’t solve any of your problems, dude. You’ve got bigger fish to fry. Like the fact that sometimes your baby mama only buys three dollars’ worth of gas and pays for it in change.”
“What the fuck?” I exclaim, not liking that he knows so much about her or that she’s living on change.
“She’s flat broke. Pretty sure she stuffs toilet paper from the bathroom under her shirt sometimes too. That’s why I didn’t know for sure she was pregnant.”
“You’re screwing with me, aren’t you?”
“Nope. Can’t make this shit up,” he says. “It’s depressing. I’d help Naomi out if I could; but if I gave a handout to every pretty face that comes through here, I would go out of business fast.”
“Wait. How the hell do you know her name?” I ask him.
He makes me wait until he tosses more candy into his mouth and chews them up before answering. “Calm down, dude. She wears a nametag.”
“Oh. Right.” I clear my throat as I consider my next question for him. “Does she…have you ever seen her with any men?”
He cocks his head to the side, carefully considering that inquiry before finally giving me a response. “Nope. I don’t think so. Some guys think the belly is hot, but most aren’t about trying to get in the middle of all that parental responsibility, no matter how hot she is. Not to mention she always looks pretty miserable, like there’s not enough caffeine in the world to perk her up.”
“Sounds like you’ve thought about her quite a lot,” I point out in a grumble.
“Eh, I have a lot of free time on my hands.”
“Obviously.”
“So, what’s the plan, man? You gonna keep standing here every day watching her or what?”