I laugh softly, taking his hands, which show how overcome he is.
“They’re shaking,” he whispers, his face flushing with embarrassment.
“Mine haven’t stopped either.”
He brings my hands to his lips, kissing my knuckles tenderly. I watch him closely, not wishing to miss a single moment of this. It wasn’t even a year ago this same news was met with panic and resistance…disdain even.
I underestimate his ability to adapt more than I should. From the beginning, he’s proven time and time again that he’s capable of change, of growth.
There’s no telling what is in store. The trials and tribulations we’ll have to endure.
But now more than ever it’s clear we’re doing this together.
He pulls me close, letting me surrender to his warmth, and I mold to him naturally, tucking my face under his chin, seeking only his understanding, his strength to encourage my own.
“I think we’re ready now,” I tell him, reminded of our uncertain days before.
His heartbeat is a steady drum in my ear. “I think we are.”
***
My gaze is on the New York skyline. At the edge of the balcony, I reflect, as I have always done in this place. It could be the breeze that blows this high in the air that makes the hot summer air less damp. The seasons are moving, and time is unstoppable, passing with our excitement.
My belly is against the railing, a gigantic force beneath my breasts.
The first few months were met with excitement, an unnatural, consuming excitement. It wasn’t hard for that to turn into worry at the first sign of trouble. We knew my health would decline. We knew tests would need to be run, precautions taken. We knew better than to tell anyone about the baby until I’d begun to show.
By the fifth month, when my stomach really popped, we found a common ground between the two emotions. I’m well aware this may be the only time I carry a child, as I have no idea what lies ahead, what birth will do to my body.
I’ve found the ability to bask in it, without letting fear overrule me. With medications, supplements, and leave from my job which pretty much confines me to the apartment, I make it work.
I can handle fatigue. I can handle nausea.
If the outcome is a healthy, happy baby with Benjamin’s eyes, I can do anything.
My fingers glide over the railing. I can close my eyes and see a different time. A time where I stood right here, so ridden with fear and rage that I left Benjamin. How terrified I was for that trial, for the prison sentence I was nervous I’d receive for defending myself against a sick man. I changed with that sentence and lost myself. And as I changed, so did Benjamin, who suffered along with me in the dark.
He knew before I did what we needed in order to restart…to bind to each other forever.
My recollections have disturbed my mind and, therefore, the little one inside of me. I press my hand to my belly, rubbing the soft cotton of my dress. I’m not sure if it’s the infamous “nesting phase” that brings on these torrents of emotions, but they’re hard to get a handle on.
I wipe my cheeks, refusing to go there tonight. Benjamin comes back from his trip today. For the first time since we married, he had to travel overseas, which I had no clearance from the doctor to do. Four days are a lifetime when you have nothing to do but sit and stare at a wall, watching time tick by. It was comforting how hard he tried to put off going to Taiwan, but in the end, it couldn’t be helped.
Nine more weeks and there will be another here with us, a sweet baby to keep me company.
“Wife.”
I smile at the sound of his voice, pursing my lips to the sunset.
“Husband.”
He’s just outside the sliding door. He’s shed his suit jacket, and his luggage, but still stuns in a three-piece vested suit. He crosses the small amount of space it takes to reach me and takes my mouth without delay, catching the back of my head with his palm to limit his force.
His eyes are warm when he pulls back, like my mouth has drugged him. They sweep over my body eagerly, and I admire the way his lips curve appreciatively.
“Everything good?”
“Yes, everything’s been fine here. Your trip?”
