Chapter 38

Chapter Thirty-Eight

Bess

I ’d never spent so much time on my knees. After a blissful shower, I’d forced myself to dress up and look through the porch, again. If I licked the stupid thing clean, surely, I’d end up consuming the required pill. After fifteen minutes of awkward searching, moving every flowerpot, decorative sculpture and the welcome mat, I’d discovered something that looked like an old Tic Tac, as well as two white pills that looked eerily similar.

Why were there so many discarded pills lying around on the porch? What kind of pill-poppers did Rubie Ridge host? To be fair, I’d also unearthed a piece of condom wrapper, a stick of gum and three dental floss holders, so it was pretty obvious the porch hadn’t been cleaned for a while.

Satisfied that I’d scoured every inch of the entranceway, I sat on the steps, staring at the two pills in my hand.

What the fuck was I supposed to do? Without access to the internet, I couldn’t check what my pill looked like. I remembered it being round and white. That was it. But did it have a groove in the middle? How deep a groove? Was it chalky or shiny? Why was my memory useless?

I fetched the foil blister the pill had been in, trying it with both pills. They each fit in fine, although one had a tiny piece missing on the side. It could have broken off as I’d dropped it though, so I couldn’t rule it out.

It was likely my pill was one of these two. If I took both, I’d get the right one, but also risk ingesting something else harmful. Chances were it was just a painkiller. But what if it wasn’t?

How bad could it be? I was on no other medication. Was there anything that could interact with the morning-after pill?

This is how Jack had died—mixing medications that shouldn’t be mixed, thinking he was doing the right thing.

The thought punched me so hard my lungs flattened, and I fought to draw another breath. I should have been there. I was the cautious one who thought of everything, who constantly assessed the level of risk.

Except this week, with Charlie, I’d taken a risk after risk and ended up here with an injured leg and two terrifying pills.

What was worse—a pregnancy or unintended drug side effects? Even if it was Adderall or Vicodin, one pill wouldn’t kill me. What did those pills look like? Why, oh why didn’t I have internet?

As I stared at the glory of autumn colors on the horizon, the answer came to me. I’d have to tell my mom or Charlie what I’d done. That was the only way. Instead of pills, I’d swallow my pride and out myself as the clumsiest idiot in Colorado. Jack had been alone and too proud to ask for help, spiraling deeper into his stupid risk investments, too wired to sleep.

I was not going down that way.

I heard Celia’s bubbling laugh from somewhere behind the cabin. They must have been on their way back. I made a half- hearted attempt to get up, but what was the point? I’d made my decision. I’d say the awkward thing, even if it made me burst into flames. I could try to avoid risk, but I couldn’t hide. I’d be the brave wolf with the fat chest. Oh, my. If all these blunders made me fall pregnant, I would have a fat chest, I thought, and an odd, uncontrollable laugh escaped.

Charlie found me on the porch steps, holding two pills, laughing with tears streaming down my face. He lifted Celia off his shoulders and sat next to me, his voice cracking with concern. “Are you okay? What happened?”

“No. I’m an idiot. Charlie, I lost the pill. I dropped it on the porch and then I scoured every inch of this area and I found these two. And now I don’t know what to do.”

He stared at me in horror. “Yes, you do! You flush those down the toilet, right now.”

“I mean, I need to take it. I should have taken it last night, but I fell asleep putting Celia to bed.” I looked up at him, my eyes blurring with tears. “It was right after our phone call. She stirred, and I curled up next to her to settle her down and then I must have fallen asleep. Didn’t even brush my teeth. I’m so sorry.”

“Sorry about what? You were exhausted. We both were.”

“But I should have taken that pill right away when I got it. When I was still functioning. I was so stupid. I thought I’d get Celia to bed first…” I sniffed.

Celia crawled into my lap and wrapped her arms around my neck. “I love you, Mommy. Don’t be sad.”

Charlie smiled, stroking my hair. “She’s right. We love you. Don’t be sad.”

Tears flowed freely now, completely distorting my vision, which made it easier for Charlie to remove the pills from my hand. “But seriously, we’re flushing these. You never swallow random pills you find on the ground, right?”

“Mommy doesn’t let me pick up candy in the street, even if it’s still in the wrapper,” Celia informed him.

“Exactly! This is the same thing. Right?”

“Right,” I finally answered, my mouth sticky, hands limp.

“We can pick up another one in town this afternoon when we go to the festival.”

I nodded, and relief slowly trickled down my spine. Of course, that was the sane thing to do. Not having an emotional breakdown over two dirty pills.

Charlie leaned closer to whisper in my ear. “Or we can take our chances, because we’re okay either way. We’re fine.”

“Stop that,” I hissed. “You don’t want a baby. You have no idea?—”

“Nobody does. It’s one of those blind jumps, isn’t it?”

I nodded. I’d been the blindest of all. I’d jumped and crash landed as a broke single mom. Still, I couldn’t imagine life without Celia. She had so much light in her. Even in the darkest times, she never let me slip into the void. I told myself I had to keep it together for her, but I drew strength from her shining green eyes like some sort of life force vampire. Her hugs, wild dreams and enthusiasm sustained me.

“We’re all going in blind, I guess. Nobody knows what’s coming.”

I glanced at my daughter, tugging on Charlie’s hand. “I want to do the loopy loop.”

Charlie got up and held her hands, letting her climb up his body and somersault over, landing back on the ground. My little monkey. I clapped obligingly.

Mom reached us, blowing out a breath. “She’s got a lot of energy, that one.”

“Sure does.” Charlie lifted his arm so that Celia could swing from it.

“I think I need to lie down for a bit.” Mom edged past us to get inside the cabin.

Charlie set Celia down. “Do you want to go check that tree for pinecones? Five dollars each, remember?”

“Five dollars?” I eyeballed him, watching my daughter skip away with the backpack.

“Is that too much? Too little?” Charlie looked alarmed. “I wanted to motivate her, and she said she’s saving up for an iPad.”

“No, she’s not! She wants an iPad. She also wants a swing and a jungle gym. She wants her own personal unicorn! She’s not saving up for anything. She doesn’t even have a piggy bank.” I couldn’t help the frustrated shudder.

“Chill. I’ll get her a piggy. She can start saving.”

“I don’t want her to have an iPad. She’s five.”

“Sweet. We’ll get the unicorn. How much do those go for?”

I rolled my eyes. “Why don’t you look it up on Kickstarter?”

Charlie lifted his hands in surrender. “Okay, I admit. I know nothing about kids. I’m hopeless. I need guidance. But I think she’s amazing.” His face softened and a genuine smile broke through as he gazed at Celia’s slight frame, combing the ground under the old pine tree.

“She is,” I confirmed. “She’s the reason I didn’t lose hope. That I keep trying. People say they work hard to give their kids anything, but it’s not just that. It’s the way she believes in better times. The way she keeps dreaming about everything, trusting that she’ll one day get it. I try to inhale that faith every day. I’m faking it, but even that helps sometimes. Because I never want to break her spirit, so I must believe a little bit more and try a little bit harder.”

I could feel Charlie’s eyes on me. Studying me. “You used to be like her, didn’t you? I can see your spirit in her. The original one that life hasn’t smacked around.”

His words hit me hard, and I had to turn away to compose myself. “I was a lot more na?ve,” I said. “I had all these plans and goals. We were professional dreamers.”

“I sometimes wish I had that. I haven’t found that much to dream about. I guess that’s why I shop on Kickstarter. I want to feel like I’m part of someone else’s dream.”

“But you dream up new campaigns and visuals all the time at work.”

He huffed a sad laugh. “They’re not my dreams. I don’t have that much skin in the game. I mean, it’s fun to win, but it’s not my purpose.” He paused, drawing a deep breath, holding it for a moment. “I don’t think I have a purpose.”

Something flamed inside of me. “You want to make everyone happy. You want to discover amazing things and elevate them. You care so much! That’s a lot of purpose, Charlie.”

“You think?” He gave me a lopsided smile.

“Yeah. When I was planning our Kickstarter campaign, I was dreaming of a backer like you.”

“You planned a Kickstarter campaign?” He blinked.

“I didn’t get very far before the lawsuit and everything else happened.”

Charlie’s eyes flicked at Celia, still searching the ground under the pine tree. “Did you ever plan to have another one?” he asked softly, “you know, before…”

“Yeah, sort of. We planned a lot of things, but it was all conditional. Like, once we get the business off the ground. Once we had enough money and a bigger place. You know…” I shrugged.

“I have money, you know. My place is… not small.”

I looked down. “I couldn’t casually have a baby with someone. It feels wrong.”

“Casually? What’s casual about it? Labor?”

I laughed at my stupid word choice. “I meant relationship-wise.”

“Despite what you’ve told yourself, I’m not commitment-phobic. I’ve been… picky.”

“Meaning you’ve never dated anyone long enough to be considered commitment-phobic.”

He nodded. “Well, it’s not a topic that gets raised on the first or second date. But I don’t want to waste anyone’s time. Dating someone you don’t see a future with is a waste of time.”

“Why are you wasting your time with me?” The question came out too fast, unfiltered. “I mean, we don’t really have a future.”

“You don’t see it, but I do.”

“How do you know you won’t change your mind? You can’t even commit to a cell phone. You order a new one every two months.”

“Because then I can give the old one away,” he said quietly, cheeks coloring.

“You want to give your phone away?” I watched him poke a small rock with the tip of his sneaker, and my puzzle of Charlie gained one more piece. The impulsive, infectiously enthusiastic, neglected, spoilt, genuine, creative, easily bored… and now, with a gravity I hadn’t noticed before.

“People are proud. They don’t want charity. But if you throw something away, they’ll catch it.”

“You get bored with stuff, though. Don’t try to deny it.”

“Of course I get bored! I buy shit I don’t need and change my routines and order food from a new restaurant. It doesn’t mean I throw away something I love. I’ve had this one pair of jeans since I was eighteen. They’re pretty worn out, but I’d never throw them away.” He turned to look me in the eye. “Look, Bess. I can’t guarantee anything. Life is full of risk. Unavoidable risk. You might get bored of me. One of us could die…” He bit his lip, his gaze dark. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to dredge up?—”

“It’s okay. It’s never that far from my mind, anyway. I guess that’s why I don’t like taking risks. Because ‘risk’ is not just a word. It’s a precursor to pain.”

He took my hand, squeezing it between his own. Making it warm. “I don’t want to cause you pain. Ever. I’m not saying I’d be an amazing father or partner or anything. I’m scared shitless of that. But I still want you and everything that comes with it.”

I believed him. Charlie might have been na?ve, but he wasn’t lying.

My breath felt hot on my lips—hot air rising from my churning guts. “There’s little chance I’ll be pregnant anyway, from one time. That’d be quite miraculous.”

“Exactly. So, why stress about the pill?” He smiled.

Because I don’t take risks. Because I have to be in control.

I couldn’t give him an answer.

Charlie released my hand, peering over my head. “Oh, my God!”

I followed his gaze and saw Celia dragging a backpack full of pinecones. It was open, with the contents spilling over as she tried to move it across the bumpy grass and walking path separating us. Celia stopped in her tracks and burst into tears. Charlie jumped to his feet and caught up with her as she tried to lift it over a rock, spilling more cones. I stood up on autopilot, but something held me back. I wanted to see what Charlie would do.

He helped her gather up the fallen cones, slipping some into the hood of her jacket. Then he lifted the backpack onto his shoulder and Celia into his arms, whispering something into her ear. She looked over at me, then back at Charlie. The cries stopped, and he carried her across the path and to the cabin steps, lowering her onto my lap.

“She’s done a phenomenal job,” he told me. “I think we should get to the kitchen and stick these in the oven. They need to dry up and open before we can paint them.”

“What are we making out of them?”

Charlie grinned. “No idea. We’ll let Celia decide.”

“Me?” The girl looked up, blinking away the last tears.

“Yes, you. You’re an artist.”

“I am?”

“Of the purest form,” Charlie confirmed.

The girl beamed. “I’m an artist, Mom.”

Her tears had dried, somehow transferring into my throat. I swallowed down the lump and smiled. “Yes, you are.”

Everything we didn’t dare to believe about ourselves was present in our children.