Kind of Love That Saves You

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Fall . . . Your daddy dropped the bomb a few hours ago. The evening news droned softly in the background as we sat on the sofa after dinner, sharing a Corona and sucking on lime wedges. I was in the middle of telling him that Mike and Calista couldn't get a sitter for next Sunday's dinner plans, when he interrupted me. "We're just not ready to have a baby," he said quickly, as though he had been storing up this announcement like a held breath. His words didn't surprise me. We've been discussing the possibility of getting pregnant since February. Though lately, as the leaves slip into their vibrant shades of autumn fire, I've begun to think that if you are ever going to be conceived, I'll have to take a needle to my diaphragm. I waited a moment after he spoke, pulled a long swig off the beer, then set it carefully on the coffee table in front of us. He posed expectantly, leaning forward with wide eyes, waiting for me to agree with him. "Huh," I said, folding my hands carefully on my lap. "Well, then. Sounds like you've got it all figured out. But I'm curious, hon. What exactly does "ready' mean?" Pressing his lips into a dark line, he crossed his arms over his chest and shot me a frustrated glance. He hates it when I ask him to explain himself; hates it even more when he doesn't have an explanation. "I just don't feel all the way ready, Sarah," he said. "Okay? Isn't that enough?" I shook my head, moved toward him on the couch, and teasingly poked him in the belly. "Nope. It's not." He pushed my hand away and asked, "Why?" I sighed, flopping back against the worn cushions. "Because, Gavin. Nobody ever feels all the way ready. I think it's more of a process-type thing. You get more ready as you go through it, you know? You learn things. Calista and Mike weren't "ready' when she got pregnant with Davie, and they're great parents." Your daddy snorted and rolled his eyes, saying, "Yeah, great parents. Nice marriage too. If I have to hear about his emotional distance or her PMS one more time, I'm going to shoot myself." He took a section of lime and shoved it in his mouth, skin side out, covering his teeth. He smiled hugely, crossing his eyes at me. "Very attractive," I said, laughing. "I'm trying to be serious here, all right? We've been married five years. Our relationship is solid, don't you think? You love me forever, right?" He paused, pretending to have to think about his answer, then nodded as he pulled the mangled fruit from his mouth. "Yeah . . . I guess you're a keeper." I swatted him on the arm. "Hey! I mean it. I want you to want this as much as I do." Tears rippled the edges of my words. Your daddy placed his hand against my cheek, a gesture that generally calms me. "I get what you're saying, Sarah-bara. I want to want it too, but I need to catch up with you, okay?" I sniffed and nodded, wanting to grab him by the shoulders and shake him, screaming, "No, no, it's not okay!" He took the last swig from the bottle, kissed the top of my head, and went to take a shower. I waited until I heard the water start to rumble through the pipes before I went down the hall and into the closet of space that serves as my office. Messy towers of press releases and promotional CDs littered my desk; I had to dig through a couple of layers before I found the cordless phone. I called your Auntie Calista. She was in the middle of getting Davie into his pajamas, but when she heard the tremor in my voice, she passed the baby off to Mike and told me she'd go into their bedroom before we continued our conversation. I pictured her settling back into the fluffy pillows on their bed, phone tucked between her ear and shoulder. By this time of night, she would be in her usual evening uniform: gray sweat suit and white socks, her thick black