A Different Blue(111)

her mouth like legs on a centipede. Her grey hair was in neat little curls all over her head,

and she wore a scarf over them, presumably to protect her hair-do from the wind that had kicked

up outside. I'd brought the storm with me, apparently.

“Your husband sent me in to check on you. He's worried about you.”

I didn't correct her. I was so obviously in need of a husband, since I was so obviously about to

have a child, and I really didn't want to explain who Wilson was. I followed her out and saw

Wilson conversing with an equally small old man. When they saw me, the old man patted Wilson's

shoulder and nodded knowingly. Then he offered his arm to the old woman, and they teetered

toward their car, holding each other against the wind that had started to rage.

“I'm sorry, Blue.” Wilson had to raise his voice to be heard, and his dark curls whipped

around his head.

“Why didn't you tell me? I don't get it! I lay in bed all night thinking about it. And I can't

think of one plausible explanation.” My hair streamed into my mouth and flew around me like

Medusa's snakes, but I was not getting back into the car . . . not until I had an answer.

“I didn't want to influence your decision,” Wilson shouted, “I had a great life. Wonderful

parents. And my parents never hid the truth from me. I grew up knowing that they had adopted me.

But I can't tell you it didn't bother me because it did! I often wondered about the woman who

didn't want me and about the man who hadn't wanted either of us.”

I felt his words like a kick to the stomach, and I wrapped my arms around my abdomen, holding

the life inside me, shielding it from him. He winced but kept talking, yelling into the wind.

“I didn't want my feelings to sway you, can you understand that?”

[page]“You think I don't want this baby? You think I'm giving it away because I don't want it?

”

Wilson's eyes searched mine, and a myriad of emotions crossed his face as he struggled for words

that weren't easy to say.

“When you told me that you had decided not to keep your baby, I thought you were making a

mistake. Yet how could I say a bloody thing? My sister is over the moon with joy. And you seemed

at peace with your choice.”

The wind moaned and the sky darkened. Wilson reached for me, but I stepped away, letting the

wind howl and pull at me. It seemed fitting.

“My mother didn't give me up for adoption, Wilson. But she should have. She should have!”

Wilson braced his legs against the wind and shoved his hands into his pockets.

“She didn't love me enough to give me up. I am not going to ruin this baby's life just because

I need someone to love.”

Thunder rolled and a flash of lightning had Wilson reaching for me again. This time I wasn't

quick enough, and he wrapped an arm around me, pulling me toward the car. The rain hit as we

slammed our doors, and we were cocooned in grey, the rain so heavy that the world was liquid

beyond the windows.

The Mercedes purred to life, and heat billowed at our feet and warmed the seats beneath us. But

Wilson didn't resume our journey. There was still too much to say.

“I didn't mean to hide it,” he appealed, his grey eyes entreating me. I looked away, not

wanting to listen. But he was insistent, and he turned my chin toward him, demanding that I