Out On a Limb(36)

“We love you too,” they answer in unison.

“Now teach us how to carry your plants safely so you don’t end up murdering our nice new mover friends,” Sarah adds.

The rest of the morning goes smoothly. Michael and Levi take my small selection of furniture down piece by piece—with help from Caleb on the monster that was my pull-out couch. She now lives on the curb until a new home is found, since Bo’s spare room comes equipped with a queen-sized bed.

Sarah, Caleb, and I do two trips with my plants while the rest of my boxes are taken down. Everything I own is packed up in just over two hours. Caleb pays the guys and waits with the truck as Sarah and I make our way upstairs for one final look-through.

“Fuck these stairs,” Sarah says, opening the top of her water bottle on the landing to the fourth floor. “Fuck these stairs so much,” she says breathlessly, bending at the waist.

“Last time,” I say, standing straighter to pull a candy out of my fanny pack. It’s stocked with saltine crackers, ginger candies, heartburn tablets, and gum—all little nausea hacks I’ve discovered over the past six weeks. None of which are helping right now. Other than today, I have been starting to feel better.

Eventually, we collapse onto the floor next to my door, on the peeling beige-brown linoleum used for the few square feet of the entrance and kitchenette. I take small sips from Sarah’s water bottle and try to focus on my breathing, but it’s no use. I suppose it’s only right to throw up here one last time.

Once I finish up in the bathroom, I check under the sink and all around it for any leftover stuff. I, of course, find another bobby pin and tuck that away in my pocket, but everything else is gone. Sold, donated, or on the truck outside.

“It’s really happening, huh?” Sarah says, patting the floor next to her as I near.

“It is,” I say, sliding down the wall to sit.

“How are you feeling?”

“Better now,” I answer, throwing a stick of gum into my mouth.

“I meant about moving in with Bo.”

“Oh…” Right, that.

“Still worried?” she asks.

“Yeah,” I sigh out. “Hard not to be.”

“At least you’ll be closer to our place. I looked it up. It’s only an eighteen-minute walk.”

I nod absentmindedly, chewing like I have a vendetta against my gum.

“You can move in with us any time if you need to. But I do think this is a good thing. Maybe it’ll be awkward for a bit, but it’ll be easy to get to know each other. And once the baby arrives, you’re going to need another set of hands.”

I wince.

“Sorry… you know what I mean.”

I nod, offering her a relaxed smile.

When it became obvious, five weeks ago, that I couldn’t remain at this apartment any longer, I considered taking Sarah up on her offer to move in. But ultimately, I decided I couldn’t. Sarah and Caleb have very consciously chosen not to have kids. I never would have shaken the feeling that I was ruining their child-free existence. I’d have felt so guilty.

“I could do it on my own,” I argue, my pride beckoning to be consoled.

Sarah flicks my nose. “Of course you could. But the point is you don’t have to. Our moms had each other, right? Just think of Bo as the Marcie to your June.”

“It’s more complicated than that.”

“Because you slept with your Marcie? Because you want to again?” Sarah asks, her voice suggestive.

Yes, but not only that. “It’s just the hormones.”

“The ones you had on Halloween or the baby-growing ones?”

“Both.”

“Give yourself more credit than that.” Sarah leans against me, shoulder to shoulder. “But I get why you don’t want to complicate things more now.”

“It’s not just that I slept with him. It’s also the Jack-effect. I’ve only ever lived with one guy before.”

“That won’t happen again, Win. I promise,” Sarah says sternly, taking another sip of water.

“I know it sounds ridiculous because Bo has been nothing but kind and supportive and I’m literally moving in with the guy as if I don’t have a care in the world, but I can’t help but feel like the moment I let myself settle in, he’ll turn on me like Jack did.”

“Want to play worst-case scenario?” Sarah asks.

It’s what Marcie would offer to play with us when we were worried about shit growing up. Which, in hindsight, was mostly stuff not worth worrying over. I nod, taking a deep breath.

“So you move in with Bo, and things go well. Until one night, he snaps. Changes like Jekyll and Hyde. Like Jack.” She says his name with total disdain. “What would you do?”

“Leave. Immediately. Walk or taxi over to your house.”

“Then what?”

“Um…” I try to play it out in my mind like her mother taught us. Pretend it’s actually happening and get into the nooks and back corners of my imagination to build a realistic scenario. “Caleb would probably go over and get the stuff I’d need right away. You and I would go back for the rest when Bo was out or something.”

“And then?”

“My kid wouldn’t have a dad. Or they’d have a dad that I was scared of. Then I’d have to be worried forever. Anxious about them having visits, nervous during drop-offs and pickups. If it escalated, I’d have to get a lawyer and pay to go to court. I could lose my case because Bo has more money and could afford a better lawyer. I could end up being the one in trouble, somehow. Being the one who asks him for visits.”