Oh, Baby

By

Jodi Payne

“Mmmmm.”

Julie sighed as we collapsed back onto the bed. She pressed close, pillowing her head on my breast, and I tucked my arm tightly around her. I could still taste her on my lips, still feel the pulse of her fingers inside me even though it was over now. She ran her fingers over my stomach and settled quietly, and I kissed her red curls.

“Thanks, babe.”

Julie looked up at me impishly. “Liked that, huh?”

“Oh yeah.” Oh yeah. I did.

“Good.” She leaned up and kissed me, gave me that soft, sated smile of hers, and then settled with her head on my chest again. We lay there quietly, close, coming down together for a long while. When Julie finally spoke again, her voice was soft and questioning. “Gail?”

“Hm?”

“What do you think about children?”

***

You know how there are some questions that your lover, or your mother, or your best friend or whoever will ask you, and you are well aware that they’re looking for a certain answer? And you know how you just know that when you don’t tell them what they want to hear it’s going to start an argument - and, worse than that, the argument is going to be deemed your fault?

Yeah, well, this was one of those questions. And Julie had flawless timing, didn’t she? Tell me how a person who doesn’t know if they want kids is supposed to answer a question like that without upsetting what was, only moments ago, a perfectly lovely afterglow?

Right. You don’t answer it at all.

I shifted, pushing Julie onto her back and kissed her instead. It seemed like the perfect diversion to me, but she wasn’t going for it.

“Gail,” she complained, interrupting the kiss. “I asked you a question.”

“I didn’t hear it.”

“Yes, you did.”

“I did?”

“Yes.”

“Oh.” I slid my fingers between her legs. She slapped my hand away. Hard. “Ow!”

“We are going to talk about this,” she insisted, and puffed out her bottom lip.

Oh, god. Not the pout. I could handle anything but that lovely pout. “We are?”

“Yes. What do you think about me getting pregnant?”

“Um.” I was trapped. Cornered. Nothing I said now was going to be simultaneously honest and right. Fuck. I searched frantically for another evasion. “I think you would make beautiful babies,” I told her, proud of the noncommittal sound of that statement.

Julie smiled. “Yeah?”

“Sure.” God help me.

“Wanna try?”

Her smile was coy, and also shy and hopeful, and I was about to break her heart. I shook my head. “I don't know.”

Her brow furrowed. “You don't… wait. Why not?”

“I just haven’t ever thought about it.”

“But why not?” She was starting to look like she might cry. I knew my answer was going to frustrate her; she'd hinted at this subject in the past and I knew she’d been hoping to plant a seed. I’d been dreading the day she pushed me on it, but this was me, right? I had to be honest. I wasn’t going to tell her I wanted children if I wasn’t sure.

“I just never pictured myself as a mother. Baby, there are enough kids in this world who aren’t wanted, you know?”

“Oh. Oh! Well… we can adopt! You would rather adopt?”

There was that hopeful smile again. I shifted so I was propped up on my elbow. “No, Julie. I mean, maybe. Honey, I’m kind of into my own thing, you know? I’m afraid I’m too selfish. I don’t want to give up…”

Julie interrupted me with a shove and sat up. “What exactly would you be giving up?”

“I don’t know!” I might have raised my voice a bit. God, if I said that one more time… “Maybe everything, Julie. Spontaneity, freedom, time, the ability to come and go as we please.”

“I don’t suppose it matters to you what I’d be giving up if I don't do this?” Julie got out of bed.

“Julie?”

She stormed across the room to the bathroom and closed the door, and just like that the scene became all too familiar. Julie says something, I disagree, we argue, she locks herself in the bathroom.

“Jules.” I went to the door.

“Go away.”

“Baby?” I rested my forehead against the door. I could hear sniffling on the other side. I felt like such a bitch.

“I knew you were going to say no!” she sobbed through the door at me.

“I didn’t say no, I just…” Was I saying no? “I just said not yet. Not now.” I sighed.

The door flew open suddenly and I almost fell over the threshold. “This is a decision we need to make together, isn’t it?”

“Well, yeah.” Together, good, maybe she was coming around.

“So, if I want children and you don’t, where does that leave us? One ‘yes’ and one ‘no’. I want kids, Gail.”

Oh, shit. “Julie…”

She crossed her arms and glared at me. “Seriously, Gail. Where does that leave us?”

I wasn’t liking where her line of thinking was going. “Us?”

“Us, Gail. You and me. I mean it’s not like there’s anyone else to consult about this decision, is there?”

“Well actually there is.”

Julie blinked at me.

“There is. There’s the potential baby to think about, Julie. You want to bring a baby into this argument?”

“Gail.” I gave her a minute and it seemed like she was thinking it over. Finally she looked at me and sighed.

“I’m right.” Score one for the home team.

“I know, but I still want a baby, and you can be such a stubborn—”

“Bitch?”

“Bitch. We’re not going to agree on this,” Julie admitted reluctantly.

“No, we’re not. Not right this moment,” I said sadly, playing with a lock of her soft hair.

“It isn’t as if we’re talking about couch fabric or whether or not to get cable TV, Gail, this is my future we’re talking about.”

“I know.” I could feel my heart in my throat. I swallowed hard. “And mine too.”

“I need… I have to…” Julie looked into my eyes, seeming lost and flustered.

I stepped closer. “Julie,” I said, but she took a step away.

“I’m going to sleep on the couch. Ok? I need to… think.”

“Wait, what?”

“Are you going to change your mind?”

“Change my mind?”

“I’m sleeping on the couch,” she said firmly. I tried to think of something to say. This was serious for her, I knew, and she was weighing some heavy shit in her head right now if she was using phrases like ‘where does this leave us’ and ‘future’. I was scared, I think. For the first time since we’d moved in together I was worried we might have a relationship-ending dilemma on our hands. I wanted to say something, wracked my brain for the right words, but in the end I just stood there silently watching as Julie dragged a pillow and the comforter off our bed and then left the room without another word.

***

God, that was a long night. I tossed and turned and thought it over. I couldn’t rationalize bringing a baby into this world that wasn’t eagerly anticipated by both of her parents. (Or his parents… good lord, what if it were a boy?) And hard as I tried, I couldn’t talk myself into telling her I wanted children. Despite everything, I must have managed to doze off at some point because I woke to the smell of fresh coffee. I hauled myself out of bed, pulled on my robe and headed downstairs to find Julie sitting at the kitchen table reading the newspaper.

“Good morning,” she said cheerfully.

I stared at her.

“Good morning,” I eventually replied, and made an effort to give her a kiss, which she accepted gracefully. “Missed you in bed.”

“The couch is crap, next time you’re sleeping on it,” she said into her newspaper.

I grinned. Incredibly, it seemed like maybe this was going to blow over. “Eaten yet?”

“Mmhmm.” Julie got up and poured me some coffee. I went to the fridge and got out some yogurt, then joined her at the table.

Julie sipped her coffee and then, casually, she said, “Oh hey, Sara is coming by today.”

“…oh yeah?” Uh-oh. I was still in trouble after all.

“Mmhmm.” Julie nodded. “She’s bringing Luke.”

Luke was six months old.

“Ohhhh, she’s bringing the baby, is she?” I looked up at her, eyebrow raised. She knew I was seeing right through her.

Julie smiled brightly. “Mmhmm.”

Clever, clever girl.

Damn her.