“You must be like one in a million. You sure it’s a division sign? It says here that sometimes the line is really faint, so maybe you’re misreading it. Like no one on the whole internet got a division sign. Isn’t that unbelievable? You got the one wonky test in the billions produced. You sure it’s not upside down or something?”
She sticks it out the door and yep, it’s a division symbol. “Okay, well, hm. Maybe you’re divided in your heart over how you feel. Or maybe it’s like Schrodinger’s fetus.”
She steps out of the stall, frowning. “What the hell is that? Is it worse than Rosemary’s baby?”
“You know, it’s where it either is or is not a person, while a super early fetus, but whether it is a person can’t be determined yet, because its future is unknown.” She gives me a blank stare. “It’s interesting to think about.”
“I don’t even know what that means, Chloe.” A brunette enters the bathroom and side-eyes me as Charlotte shouts, “I’m going to need cleanup in the bathroom after I murder my idiot friend!”
I laugh. “...she’s kidding…”
Hopefully.
Four
Gardening is a mistake. This may be my worst idea yet. Logan is on a mini-tour, and will be back in nine weeks, so I have ample time to devote myself to keeping Austin busy. Ample time to rethink that decision, more like.
After Austin and I took a second, more productive, trip to the gardening store, purchasing seeds, plants, a variety of garden tools, fertilizer, and a few adorable decorative items, we made plans to spend the first warm day we have off together setting up the garden. That day is today. It’s a balmy sixty degrees with a gentle breeze and a clear blue sky, perfect weather for planting things that apparently like to get snowed on before sprouting.
Plants are dumber than I am.
However, I wasn’t prepared to see Austin sweating and lifting his shirt to wipe his brow. I’ve seen his abs more today than I have in five years. The little happy trail leading into his boxers has me feeling all kinds of things in my nether regions.
Not to mention the closeness as we dig rows, spread compost, and plant seeds side by side. Countless times our arms have brushed or our hands have touched. When I couldn’t take the tingling sensations any longer, I tried moving away to my own area, but Austin foiled my attempt at distance. He thinks it’s faster for us to work together. Maybe so, but it’s certainly not easy, so when I am overwhelmed by his woodsy scent, and can no longer hold my breath, I escape his voodoo by checking my phone for a text from Charlotte. Today she has a doctor’s appointment to confirm whether there is a baby or a mathematical operation growing inside her. So far, I’ve checked about a billion times because that’s how much he affects me.
“Anything yet?” Austin asks, hoe in hand, looking unfairly masculine and handsome.
“Nope.” I place my phone on the patio table and drag my ho feet back over to the back corner of the yard. “Must still be waiting to see the doctor.”
After the fiasco in Target, Charlotte refused to take another test, and instead made an appointment to have bloodwork at the OB-GYN’s office. Waiting for information is excruciating for me, but I’m sure it’s worse for her and Mr. Charlotte, so I’ll have to suck it up.
“Ready to do the starters?” Austin asks. “How about vegetables?”
“Sounds good.”
We gather the packets of seeds and tiny dirt discs that grow satisfyingly when you add water. Cucumbers, zucchini, and lettuce. Tomatoes and spinach, too. Maybe we are overly ambitious, but how could we turn down any seed’s chance to grow and thrive and get eaten? After pushing eight zillion future foods into their little dirt homes, we move to doing the herbs. We plant basil, oregano, chives, and mint. All neatly labeled in Sharpie-on-masking-tape, which reminds me of Granny Mae so much I have to walk away again.
Getting her all-caps texts about THAT HUSSY NEXT DOOR is just not the same as helping her spy in person from her own garden.
“We’re going to have a grocery store back here in the yard,” I say.
“Yeah. Everything will taste so much better with fresh ingredients. I should’ve done this a long time ago,” Austin says, reaching out to swipe the pad of his thumb across my cheek, burning my skin. “You had some dirt.”
“Oh. I’m sure I’m filthy.”
He swallows and reaches for his water bottle, taking a long swig. “I like that you’re not afraid to get dirty.”
Well, my mind certainly isn’t afraid of getting dirty. It’s been in the gutter for a week. My closure was exclusively emotional, and not at all physical, it turns out. Anything he says, my brain cells misfire and conjure up an illicit image. Like when we were watching TV last night, and he said watching me eat fettuccine was like food porn. I laughed, but hello! I had to pretend I was stuffed because I kept envisioning myself giving him a blowjob.
Logan being gone for nine whole weeks is turning me into a sex monster.
“Thanks for helping me,” Austin says.
“You’re welcome. I really need to go back for the gnome family now.”
He chuckles. “That’s probably still the creepiest thing you’ve ever told me.”
“I feel like you’re not appreciating garden life.” I wave my hand around. “You wouldn’t enjoy living amongst this beauty, letting your hair and nails grow long and tangled?”
“With you? Maybe.”
He has no idea how the innocent things he says get twisted in my mind. He just means that hermit-buddies might be nice, but I am imagining garden sex now.
“What are you thinking about in that pretty head?” Austin asks.
I drop to my knees.
Luckily, I land by the tray of oregano starts. I pick them up like I totally meant to do that and not nearly fainting from his compliment. He thinks I’m pretty? In all the years I’ve known him, he’s never said it in a general sense. Sure, he’s told me I look beautiful, but that was when I asked how I looked in my Rose costume, forcing him to give me a positive answer. All men know that’s the only correct answer. Except Adam, my two-week boyfriend in college, who told me I looked “all right.”
“Babies,” I say, hoping that scares him off so we don’t have to talk anymore. Because between my overgrown fantasy life and his offhanded compliments, my closure is definitely reopening.
He crouches beside me. “What about them?”
I look over at him. This breakup has really got him inside out if he’s not running from baby talk. Perhaps he’s lonely? But if he’s willing to listen, I’ll take it because Charlotte’s possible pregnancy also has me turned inside out.
“Well…Baby Charlotte is a life-changer.” I sit cross-legged in the grass and let out my worries. “Am I ready? I feel like I need to be ready. My actions will influence a tiny human.”
“What do you mean?”
I sigh. “This little person will be spending time with us and it’s our responsibility to be good role models. I can’t be the aunt without her shit together, ya know?”
He laughs. “You’ve got your shit together.”