He stared at it while he watched a stupid documentary about the aliens who sank Atlantis. He stared at it before he fell asleep. He stared at while he ate his cereal in the morning, measuring the figure with his thumb and forefinger, then glancing at the precise values printed in green on the bottom. Less than five centimeters long. He traced the profile with his finger. He wondered what it was thinking, if it knew anything but the beating of Reagan’s heart. Brown eyes or green. He hoped for green.
How could it be? Something had come into existence because of him. It belonged to him, yet was utterly removed from him, completely encased inside her body. Someone who would think, and become afraid. Someone whose survival was bound up with him and with her. Someone who forced the two of them together. Forever.
He stared at the sonogram one more time before leaving it carefully folded on his night stand.
A few days later, the paperwork from the adoption agency appeared in his mail, and he stuffed it all in the box under his bed.
—
“Charlotte is obsessed with you, by the way,” Reagan told him at lunch. “She asked me to tape up all of the drawings you made when you came over yesterday.” She took a bite of an almond butter sandwich and chased it with a swig of chocolate milk. Her face was full and rounded and pink, and her eyes were brightened. Her belly was beginning to appear beneath her blouses. The nausea medication had allowed her to eat again, and she was making up for lost time. “My favorite is the butterfly princess. I noticed you made her a swallowtail,” she added. He smiled. He knew it was her favorite. “But you can’t keep leaving behind stunning works of art every time you come over. I’m running out of room on her wall. We’re going to have to start using the fridge to display it all.”
“Your dad will love that.” Reagan winked and took another bite of her sandwich, stole one of his potato chips, and stuffed it in her mouth. He grinned. “I’m so glad you’re feeling better.”
She nodded happily as she took another gulp of chocolate milk. She breathed a contented sigh before eying his burrito. She reached for it and stole a bite. She grimaced.
“That’s disgusting, Cass,” she pronounced, covering her mouth with her hand and picking up her water bottle. “How can you eat that?”
“I don’t see anyone bringing me pad thai.” He winked at her. She grimaced and discreetly spit into a napkin.
“By the way, have you gotten the paperwork from the agency yet? I was looking at some of the parent bios and they are unbelievable. These people are amazing. I found one couple in Houston, and the husband works for NASA.”
“Cool,” he mumbled.
“They have a golden retriever named Rudy. Isn’t that cute? I’ve always wanted a golden retriever.” He nodded and managed to smile. “So what do we have to do? Sign some papers and make a few phone calls? And that’s it? He’ll get a mom, a dad, and a dog?” Casper hesitated. He thought of the sonogram folded on his nightstand. He tapped his fingers on the table as he searched her face. Reagan’s smile faded. “What is it? It didn’t fall through, did it?”
“No, Ray. It’s just—,”
“Did the people at the agency change their minds? Is it because I’m not a Christian or something like that?”
“No, not at all.
“Barb said that those people would want to adopt him. Isn’t that true?”
“Pretty much. Yeah, but—,”
“Like, good people. Perfect people. A dad who works at NASA and a mom who —,” she paused and fiddled with her crumpled napkin. “You know what I mean, right?”
“Yeah, Ray,” he said at last. “I got the paperwork the other day. He can have a mom and a dad and a dog. If that’s what you want.” She smiled. He saw tears suddenly quivering on her eyelashes. He swallowed. “But listen,” he said gently. “I know we kind of talked about it already, but—,”
“Casper,” she whispered, putting her hand on his arm. Every particle in his body was aware that her hand was on his arm. She was looking at him with such expectance in her green, green eyes that any other thought vanished. “You know what this means? Maybe this is going to be okay.”
“Ray—,”
He sat up and squared his shoulders. He laced his hands thoughtfully. Just tell her, you idiot. He looked into her face. Reagan, I want to keep the baby. He took a breath. I’ll be the dad and you’ll be the mom. But he didn’t get to say it.
“Thank you,” she said. Her hand was still on his arm. His entire being was aware that her hand was still on his arm. Every color in her person was saturated to its deepest expression. Nothing else existed but fragrant red-gold waves, green eyes, amber freckles, pink lips.
“You’re welcome,” he sighed.
“Maybe,” her fingers lingered on his arm before she took her hand away, “maybe when this is all over.”
When he got home, he took the sonogram off the nightstand and held it, folded. Then he knelt beside his bed and pulled out the box. He placed the sonogram inside and hid it away.
—
It was Episode IV. They had spent a bit of time debating whether to watch the films in the order they were made, or to go chronologically through the narrative. He always preferred to go according to the production timeline and point out every addition to the canon that he believed to be absurd on principal. She liked to watch chronologically, and seemed to get real enjoyment out of his merciless critiques. He didn’t care if she laughed at him because the sound was so welcome. In the end, he won the coin toss. A New Hope.
Charlotte was asleep, Mark was downstairs, and they were sitting on her bed with her computer balanced on their knees. They were sitting close, and she was leaning her head on his shoulder. She was wearing his Hawkeyes hoodie, and her hair smelled great. It was almost like nothing had ever disrupted them.
“Did I ever tell you the time I dressed up as Leia for Halloween? Oh, I hate this part.” She shuddered as Luke discovered the charred remains of his aunt and uncle. “I wore one of my dad’s white t-shirts and a belt, and tried to put my hair in those bun things. But because my stupid hair is red, nobody knew who I was.”
“You’ve told me,” he said, studying her delicate fingers as she twirled her hair around her fingers.
“But my dad said my hair wasn’t the problem. He said it was because the shirt had Neil Young’s face on it.” He laughed. “Oh, here we go,” she said, paying attention to the screen again. “The cantina is coming up.” She turned up the volume.
He was having a hard time watching anything but her. Twenty-two weeks into the pregnancy, everything about her was enhanced.
He watched her twitching to the music of the cantina scene and giggling at the alien puppets as if she hadn’t seen them a hundred times. Charlotte had inherited that from her, along with her freckles, her thoughtful eyebrows, and countless other indefinable traits which appeared and disappeared within a single vivid expression. Reagan said the baby would be luckier than Charlotte, but he knew it was the other way around. He hated to think of passing him over to strangers who would never understand where the dimple in his left cheek came from, or why his fingers fidgeted when he was reading, or why he hated squash.
So he tried not to think about it.
He hoped they liked football. As long as they weren’t Badgers fans. He hoped they were smart. One of them could be a doctor or an engineer. The other would be devoted to being home at all times, available at beck and call, eager to explain Newton’s Laws, to read another chapter of The Hobbit before bedtime, or to demonstrate the proper way to draw an x-wing.
He tried not to think about it.
After it was all over, they were going to start again. He would still have her when it was all over. Without mistakes, without wasting time. He could start saving now for a house. Maybe one on trendy Willy Street, a neighborhood she always admired when they passed. Or maybe in that cozy neighborhood near the zoo. Or the one with the good bike trails. He’d get her a Rimshot to match his. A yellow one. They made them for kids, too. Charlotte could get one in lavender. And Mark could stay at home. They’d give him a cushy setup, either in a cavernous, light-filled, fully-finished attic, or a sprawling, beautifully decorated basement. They’d all get along. One big, happy family. A cotton candy castle.
She laughed and turned from the screen to look at him. He kissed her.
It all returned to him. The muscle memory, her fragrance, the familiarity of her form, now made more precious and desirable by its new fullness. And she didn’t stop him. She went with him, willingly carried along back in time, hopeful and exultant. They were hidden away in a world of their own. Their own garden, where only they walked. Unseen. Yet better than before. Not in the isolated environment of his lonely apartment, where they only existed for that brief time. Transported to reality, in her half-house, with all of its rattling and groaning and overcooked smells and cramped, cluttered rooms. Now, it didn’t frighten him Now, it was real.
Where can you flee from My presence?
He shuddered and shook it away.
Where can you flee from My presence?
I don’t want You to fix this.
Where can you flee from My presence?
“What’s wrong?” she asked. Her hands were laced behind his head.
“Nothing.” He kissed her again. And again.
Nobody can see us. Surely the darkness will cover me. And the light about me be night. Nobody can see us.
The night is bright as the day. For darkness is as light with Me.
“Are you sure?” she murmured. “You have a strange look on your face.” She traced his cheek with her finger. You’re fine. You’re fine, you idiot. He affected a laugh.
“I’m fine. I just remembered,” he said, stroking her shoulder and sighing. “I completely forgot that Jin wanted today’s results tabulated for tomorrow’s meeting.”
“Can’t you do it in the morning?” Her voice was soft and inviting.
“I’m already on thin ice with him,” he said, “and it’ll take me at least an hour to finish.” He sat up and checked his watch. “I should go.” She nodded and followed him. He saw her slipping out of his hoodie. His jaw went slack.
“Do you want this back? It’s cold out.” He was about to burst into flames already.
“Keep it. It looks better on you.” As he stood, he tried not to notice the brightened green eyes, the tousled red hair, the pink cheeks.
As he carried his bike out the front door and down the front steps, her voice was quiet in the sultry night air.
“Maybe we could pick up where we left off next time?”
“Definitely,” he heard himself say.
He rode into the night cursing himself.
—
Something was wrong with him. Certainly, he’d experienced the pinch of compunction at times, the persistent guilt that hammered at the back of his head whenever he was enjoying himself. But it had been distant enough, sufficiently vague that he could ignore it. Never had it intruded upon his consciousness to such a degree. Never had he answered it with anything more than a smirk. It frightened him.
Like a mad man, he found himself groping for excuses like handfuls of water. He had to stay late and get up early the next day. He had a headache. He even told her he had life group with some people from New Heights.
The autumn session had begun a month earlier and he had already skipped four meetings. He didn’t want to miss another, he said. He had every intention of missing it. But in the end, sitting in his quiet apartment alone on a rainy Tuesday night, with that box glowering under his bed, he decided to make a run for it.
The people in the group were all nice. About fifteen of them, right around his age. One of the guys worked in IT at Carver. They discussed the sermon, which Casper had listened to just before coming. He hadn’t been to church lately, but he hadn’t missed much. A series on the life of David. He scrolled through the app, reading the sermon titles and scanning the fill-in-the-blank notes. Slay All Day: Defeating the Goliaths in Your Life. Jonathan: Making Friendships That Matter. Zeruiah Drama: Resolving Workplace Conflicts.
He laughed when he saw the title of the most recent message. It was too perfect. He thumbed through the notes. David was in the wrong place at the wrong time. David took advantage of Uriah’s integrity. David lied to cover up his sin.
Casper doubled the playback speed. Try not to steal another guy’s wife and do your best to avoid murdering. Got it.
He nodded along with everyone’s contributions to the discussion, even interjecting a thoughtful “hmm” at opportune moments, which was always well-received. At prayer time, people went in a circle to air their grievances. When it was his turn, he said he was swamped at work. That was also well-received. He left as soon as he could, but not before he was vigorously thanked for coming.
It was a successful performance. They had no idea how much he knew.
“You won’t be able to feign ignorance much longer,” she said, grinning. “You can’t resist being the smartest guy in the room.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” he asked, stealing one of her pretzels.
“Don’t worry. I like know-it-alls.”
“If you ever want to be wowed, ask me to list the kings of Israel and Judah. I won a prize for it at VBS one year.”
“Pass,” she said, taking a sip of water.
“Saul then David, Solomon, whose son was Rehoboam,” he began. Reagan laughed, spurting water out of her mouth. She swatted his arm.
“Shh! Why are you singing? What is that? Yankee Doodle?”
He grinned, then continued.
“When the kingdom split in two along came Jeroboam.” She struggled for a moment, choking with laughter, then held up her hand, begging him to stop. “I knew you’d be impressed. They gave me a plaque for that.” She took a deep breath and shook her head, marveling.
“That’s got to be weird for you, being back in that scene,” she said, recovering and taking a bite of her chicken salad. “I still don’t really get what you’re doing there.” He shrugged. “Doesn’t it make you feel guilty? Isn’t that why you stopped going in college?”
“Weirdly, going makes me feel less guilty. Like I’m doing penance or something.” Reagan nodded, conceding the point. “And it’s not like my church back home. This one has fog machines.”
“But doesn’t hearing all of that stuff make you mad? Doesn’t it get under your skin? Constantly being told you’re a bad person?” He laughed and shrugged.
“I already know I’m a bad person.”
The words left his mouth naturally, like exhaling.
“You’re one of the best people I know,” he heard her say. “If you’re a bad person, I don’t have a chance,” she laughed. He laughed. “By the way,” she said, as they stopped to throw away their trash, “the next anatomical scan is coming up soon. I’ve been putting it off and they keep bugging me about it, especially since I’ll need a full write-up from the doctor to make sure the baby is in good shape for the adoption. But they’re going to find out the sex, too. It’s kind of exciting.”
“You want me to come?” She nodded and smiled.
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Katie Bertola 