Hold Me Close(61)

“I know you saw me sitting out there, Mom. You couldn’t have worried too much. I was in the driveway.”

Her mother huffed. “I know what you were doing out there.”

“Kissing,” Effie said to get a rise out of her. She shrugged out of her coat and hung it in the front closet. “Tongues and everything.”

“Jesus, Mary and Joseph, Felicity. For the whole world to see!”

“They couldn’t see anything. The windows were steamed up.” Effie grinned and waggled her brows at her mother, then gave her an impromptu hug. “Thanks for watching Polly. If you don’t want to drive home, you can stay over. We can make pancakes in the morning.”

“I like to sleep in my own bed. And I need to let the dog out.” Her mother shook her head, then gave Effie a sideways glance. “You like him?”

“He’s very nice. By that I mean, like, nice, nice. I told you he was nice. You don’t believe me?”

Her mother rolled her eyes. “A nice guy wouldn’t sit in the driveway with his mouth and hands all over you.”

“No,” Effie said, “I guess he’d come inside and f*ck me on the living room carpet in front of my mother.”

Her mother scowled and shook her head. Then she laughed, at first softly and then a little as if it choked her. “Okay. Okay, I get it.”

“I’m an adult, as crazy as that might sound and as insane as that makes you,” Effie said. “And I know I’ve done my share of giving you trouble, Mom. But I’m trying to get at least some things in my life in order, okay? I really am. And if that means a guy like Mitchell...”

“What’s wrong with a guy like Mitchell? You said he was nice.” Her mom gathered her coat and slipped it on, then pulled a knit cap over her hair.

“He is. He’s too nice.” Effie rubbed her hands together, then found a hair elastic in her pocket and pulled her hair up on top of her head into a twisted, messy bun with a sigh of relief. Getting the weight of it off her neck was relief akin to taking off her bra, which was the next thing she intended to do. And after that, a bowl of soup from her freezer. She was starving.


“How can someone be too nice?”

“He’s good. That’s all. Too good.” Effie caught sight of her mother’s face. “What?”

Her mother shook her head again. “Oh. Effie. Never say that.”

Effie swallowed against the sudden lump in her throat. “I’m hungry. Do you want something to eat, or are you really leaving?”

“I’m leaving. But, Effie...” Her mother paused, then came closer to take Effie by the shoulders. “You listen to me. No man is too good for you. It’s the other way around. And I have other news for you, too. Your life is in order. I look at you, what a wonderful mother you are to Polly, and I could not be more proud of you. You’re a talented, creative woman with a good heart and never, ever let anything ever make you feel any different.”

They hugged, and Effie clung for a moment or two longer than she normally would have. “Thanks, Mom.”

“Eat,” her mother said. “You’re getting too thin.”

“You can never be too thin.”

Her mother patted her rounded belly through the padding of her coat. “Don’t argue with your mother.”

Effie waited until her mother had pulled out of the driveway before she turned off all the lights. In the kitchen, she pulled a container of soup from the freezer and heated it in the microwave. Heath’s soup, made in the university kitchen but brought home for her because he knew she would trust him enough to eat it.

She’d set her phone on the table while she went to the bathroom and had missed the message that came through. It was from Mitchell. No words, just a smiley face emoticon and one word: Goodnight

Alone at her kitchen table, Effie put her face in her hands and cried.





chapter twenty-eight

It’s the first time Effie’s ever taken a pregnancy test, though not the first time she’s ever counted the days since her period was due, praying for a miracle. The instructions say she needs to wait three minutes, but she’s hovering over it, watching for the plus sign she already knows will be there. She’s felt this before, all the signs, and she knows she was stupidly not careful enough.

Sure enough, the clock ticks past and two pink lines, intersecting, appear in the small white window. There’s no denying or ignoring it, no explaining it away. She is pregnant.

Again.

She’s never been regular. All the doctors she’s seen said women who don’t eat right often skip periods. It has never been strange for her to go a month or two, or even three, without bleeding. So why has she taken the test this time, instead of assuming she was just skipping a few months the way she so often had? Simple. She remembers how it felt the first time.

In the mirror, Effie looks at her naked reflection. She turns from side to side, trying to see if there’s any kind of bulge. Her hip bones jut. Her belly is slightly less concave than usual. Her mother has been nagging her about the weight loss. In these last few months before Effie starts classes at the local college, the tensions between them have been mounting, but they don’t argue out loud. Her mother forces food on her, and Effie doesn’t eat it.

Panic slaps her, and she drops to her knees in front of the toilet to dry heave. Nothing comes up but air and thin yellow bile. Effie presses her forehead to the cool tile floor and considers praying, but what god will listen to her now?