Eric - Jody Kaye (read out loud books .txt) 📗

for money and only keeps a small part of her paycheck. We agreed upon saving for when the baby gets here and Gin can’t work. The one time I said I felt bad about how small the apartment was Gin reminded me she didn’t grow up in a mansion and our cozy place was perfect. The further away we get from the spring, the more I recognize why Ginny preferred escaping from her home to mine. Her wants are few: for us to love one another and our child.

“You are welcome here anytime. We’ve missed seeing you.” The way the director lays a comforting hand on Ginny is if our child is cherished and I’m as welcome. “Are you staying, Eric?”

“No ma’am. Just making sure Gin got here safe and sound.” I kiss her temple, saying goodbye, and jog back up the flight of stairs.

Outside in the truck, I wait to let a family cross and drive down the lane. Near the last stop sign to leave the parish parking lot, Diana Adair is locking her car.

I’d forewarned Gin of the possibility she’d run into her parents. The family attends church every week. I want to respect that. My family goes to a different church down the road a handful of times in a season and every holiday. Someone once joked that when the Kingsbriers didn’t show on any given Sunday there are enough pews for the rest of the congregation. It didn’t sit well, though, I doubt it has any bearing on why we’re infrequent visitors.

“Mrs. Adair,” I call through the open window. I’m not looking to cause a fight, but she’s bound to run into Ginny and, “I wanted to say thank you, ma’am. My sister, she gave me the—”

“Do you need more?” Struck to see me, Diana rushes over to the truck, grasping my forearm.

“No ma’am, we don’t. We’re making do with what we have.”

Her eyes search my face.

“She’s doing fine. Baby’s growing. Healthy.” I don’t know what other information Diana wants. I also didn’t want to talk out of turn about our personal business when Ginny’s not on good terms with her mother. Trust is earned and lost easily. We’ve been working to rebuild it in our relationship. I don’t see confiding in a woman who Ginny doesn’t particularly care for right now as holding up my end of the bargain.

Loud footsteps on the pavement attract our attention. Ginny’s mother hedges back several paces, clutching her purse. Her expression is void of the emotional inquiry from before.

“What’s he doing here?”

“I don’t know,” Diana Adair replies to her husband.

I keep my mouth shut.

“Bad enough they let that girl of yours into the Sunday School today.” He leads Diana away by the elbow. “I’m not sitting there with a bunch of sanctimonious prigs acting like there is nothing wrong with putting a teenage girl with no morals in charge of a class filled with impressionable young children.”

“But we need to go in. We’ll miss the sermon!” Diana’s ready to run into the church. Not just for the chance to take part in the service, but also for the opportunity to be close to her daughter.

I feel poorly for her and as Alan Adair reverses his car, using the parking lot’s entrance as an exit, I make a vow to support Gin when she’s ready to mend fences.

The truck idles for a moment and I change my mind about how I’m spending my morning, taking the last vacant spot.

From beyond the threshold in the corridor, I watch Gin talk in hushed tones with the tiny kids in the classroom. They all seemed attracted to her smile. Gosh, Gin is beautiful sitting there with a round belly in the too-small chair. The sunlight streams in the window, highlighting her golden hair. One little girl gives her a hug when all Ginny had done was hand the child a piece of construction paper to color on. When she cracks the book of children’s bible verses open, I step into the classroom.

“What are you doing here? You’ve hardly been gone ten minutes.”

“I wanted” to be near you. I don’t finish my sentence. Instead, I take the heavy tome out of her lap and sit down in another tiny chair. I’m cautious my weight will break it and I’ll wind up with my legs in the air and butt on the ground like on the television’s funniest videos show, but not worried enough to stop from doing it.

“What’s everyone going to think when you don’t show up at the pasture to help your Daddy and Cris?” Ginny asks.

“One tractor, three extra sets of hands. I’m sure they’ll manage for an hour or two without me. Where are you starting at?” I flip open to a page marked with a light blue ribbon. Ginny’s nail trails down the words, stopping at the verse the children are learning about. I squeeze her hand, pressing it to my lips, and begin reading.

I wish the moment lasted longer.

In the space of the afternoon, Ginny becomes silent as she moves about in the apartment. She prepares oven baked fried chicken with green beans and potatoes for dinner, leaving the majority of her portion untouched on the kitchen table behind the sofa where she rests.

Her fingers splay out on the worn cabbage roses on the fabric, tracing the leaves. It’s a nice pattern. We got the couch from a thrift shop along with the table and chairs, which were also in decent condition. My television and DVD player sit on crates across the room. Momma was kind enough to lend us the bed from the guest room next to Adam’s. I don’t think she expects it returned. The furniture store delivered a new one to the house the next week.

“You want to go lay down someplace more comfortable?” I run the water, scrubbing the last of the dishes. 

She’s told me the bed is the softest she’s ever slept in. Something about giving away a perfectly good bed and replacing it also made her uneasy. Ginny didn’t think it was full of bedbugs. She also doesn’t find herself worthy of anyone’s kindness and believes it was my mother’s intention to give me the bed anyhow once I moved in the apartment.

“No thanks.” She sighs, sounding abandoned.

I toss the dishtowel on the counter and amble over to recline on the couch. After unlacing and toeing my boots off, I snag Ginny around the middle so she stretches out next to me.

Ginny hadn’t inquired after her parents, but I saw her sad brown eyes search the room for them at coffee hour.

“Spill.” I direct, unaware she’ll take it literally. 

Gin starts crying. Even understanding this has something to do with church, her hormones are killer. One minute she is laughing and the next bawling. Some days I’m glad we’re not living in my old room at the main house because the amount of fucking we do is probably keeping the neighbor awake. Okay, I can’t lie, the sex has been one huge benefit.

It took me weeks after finding out Ginny was pregnant to touch her again. Then, once I’d gotten over the initial shock and sense of betrayal, it was hard not to treat her with kid gloves. Up until the first night we made love in the apartment, I’d felt like we were back to square one of dating all over again.

This Ginny resembles mine, but on the inside, it’s as if she’s a whole new woman. Still, it’s comforting to find everything I’d fallen in love with her for hidden inside. I started caring about her differently, both in the knowledge she’s having my child and for a polar opposite reason: Ginny’s become wanton in her desires. I’d take her into the bedroom now if it solved any of her frustrations. Shit like that only works in movies and the dirty novels hidden in Brier’s nightstand.

“I just need you to hold me. To know you’re here.” Ginny snuggles down, sniffling. 

I give her the comfort she’s lacking, almost certain the issue root of the issue is her parents. Yet, she’d also been so excited to see her friends at church. They asked questions about the baby and Gin wanted to hear all about when they were leaving for school.

We’re beginning to make our peace with what’s coming around the bend and I’m not sure she had a regret in the world today over staying in town until one of the girls mentioned they could have been roommates. Reality cracked her swiftly across the face.

Ginny is supposed to be packing for college too. As Valedictorian, she was the one of our group destined to have gone off to college. She should be wearing a fluffy new college sweatshirt, corresponding with a roommate before orientation week, choosing classes, and electing out of Freshman math because she’d gotten AP credit during the last school year. The university suspended her scholarship because the baby is due before the end of the first term.

My siblings are conscientious about bringing up going away, even in front of me. The only time recently was when Adam announced Brier’s roommate is a lesbian. He’s been taunting our sister about how they’ll get along famously since Brier has the haircut to match and the feminine wiles to go along with that pairing. B caught Adam with an uppercut and split his lip. Momma defended Brier, saying how disgusted she was at him for spouting ugliness. I think my brother is testing Brier to make sure she’s toughened up after the Drew fiasco.

“I was told to put myself in your shoes.” I begin. “I’ve got some big ass feet, so it’s hard.” I let out an uncomfortable chuckle. “So my right foot is saying it’s about your momma, and my left that it’s about you not going to school. I can’t fix either of those things right now for you Gin. I’m here because this is where you wanted me to be. If you’ve changed your—”

“I haven’t. I made us give up so much stuff I never thought would matter.” 

“And it does.” It always has.

“Stupidity must run in my family. First, my mother falls for the worst kind of man and marries him. Then I fall for the best man and, afraid to lose his love, I get pregnant.”

“We’re making the best out of a bad situation.” But lost out on everything our friends and my siblings are about to do. There will be no college parties. No new friendships.

Her lip trembles. “I’m sorry.”

“For you or for me?”

“For all of us.” She smooths a hand over her belly. “This baby deserves so much more.”

“Your ability to say so means the baby is already getting better than you think.” I blow out a breath.

We’ve never discussed altruism. I’m not even sure I could go through with it. A piece of us would go missing. Yet, I rely on Gin and I have to offer for both their sakes’.

“Do you not want ‘em anymore, Ginny? Do we put the baby up for adoption?”

Panic sweeps across Ginny’s face and her entire body shakes. Her biggest fear is coming true. Even when I was furious with her, I hadn’t asked Ginny to give the baby away. Hell, I hit Colton when he told me Gin should get an abortion.

“Hey, hey—Look at me!” I blink back the wetness before it spills from my eyes. “Jesus, Gin, this is harder than I thought it would be. I’m giving you the choice.”

“Because I didn’t give you one?” she shouts.

“No, because most of the time I feel like we’re stumbling in the dark, getting it all wrong. No matter what I hear about the way I’m supposed to feel before becoming a daddy, I’m scared shitless.”

Ginny shatters at this admission. “Don’t ever think you aren’t good enough. You’re already an amazing father to this baby. You are everything in a man I’d planned on as a little girl, and more than I’d hoped for.” She touches my face with a