Accidentally On Purpose Part 27

"How big is your apartment?" I asked. "Lucas needs a crib, and some other things."

"It's only a one bedroom, but you and Lucas can have my room. I'll take the couch. We can look for a bigger place later. Does this mean you'll do it?"

I nodded slowly.

Luke breathed a sigh of relief and actually smiled at me. I tried to smile back, but couldn't quite pull it off, so I kept my face stoic.

We went on our first "family" shopping trip the following day, in search of a crib, a pack and play, toys, and more. Luke stayed up half the night before finding the safest equipment and the best rated toys and the cutest clothes. I couldn't meet his enthusiasm, though, and I really did try.

Luke wanted to go visit his family for dinner so they could meet Lucas, but I didn't want to go. I was terrified of the reactions I would get for keeping something so sacred from them. I didn't say it out loud, but Luke must have read it in my face.

"They're going to be fine," he insisted. "No one is going to be nasty. They're not like that."

Because I'd lost the will to fight for myself a long time ago, I didn't object any further. As it turns out, Luke was right anyway. Dinner was at Lorraine's, with the whole family in attendance, ten kids between the three siblings, two spouses, both of Luke's parents, me and the family dog.

Even though I was greeted as a member of the family, and Lena picked up talking to me as if no time had lapsed between us, and no one excluded me (except maybe Luke) from conversations, I still felt like an outsider, a traitor. Lucas was pa.s.sed from one person to another, each person ecstatic to hold him and in some cases even tearful. He laughed in only a way a baby can laugh, inciting smiles and excitement. I felt like a tool for not only keeping this good family from my son, but for not letting him get to know them from day one.

I was so overwhelmed by the treatment I was receiving and for basically being rewarded for my own despicable behavior, half way through dinner I excused myself and locked myself in the bathroom inside Lena's and Chuck's bedroom. I sat on the edge of the tub and folded over until my head was between my knees. I don't know how long I stayed like that before there was a knock on the door and Lena called my name.

"Just a minute," I said, trying to find the motivation to get up.

The door swung open, and Lena leaned against the frame.

"You okay?"

"How do you know I wasn't on the toilet?" I asked.

"So what if you were? Honey, we've had our private parts spread wide open for the world to see while trying to push out miniature human beings, and at the same time, emptying our bladders and colon. Seeing you on the toilet would have been nothing."

I felt my mouth hanging open. "No wonder my mother likes you so much. You have some strong similarities."

"Are you having a moment?"

"If I were, you've just taken it from me."

"You look upset."

"I might be."

"Why? Everything is going so nicely."

"Maybe I feel like I..." I almost spilled my guts to Lena, which maybe wasn't a bad thing in ordinary times, but this wasn't an ordinary time.

"Emmy, what's done is done. No one is punis.h.i.+ng you for it, and you can't punish yourself. Come on," she held out her hand and waved me on. "Mom made apple pie specifically for you."

I looked at her hand. "The same apple pie she made before?" I asked.

"The same."

"I could have eaten that whole pie by myself." I stood up and took her hand and followed her back downstairs.

Luke told me to make myself at home. I felt more at home at Lena's than I did in the apartment I was now sharing with my baby's daddy. Unless Lucas was directly involved, Luke steered clear of me, and I steered clear of him. He left for work around eight every morning and was back by six most nights. Sometimes he would come home long enough to eat dinner and spend time with Lucas, but once the baby was in bed, he sometimes would return to the office.

We moved through the apartment in silence when Lucas was asleep, not because we didn't want to wake him, but because Luke was still struggling not to live by my past deeds. As for me, I felt like I was intruding on his life, even when Lucas was at the center of attention. I slunk around with my head and ears down, and my tail between my legs, trying to stay out of his way, trying to go unnoticed until me or my breast milk were needed.

I made myself useful, cooking dinner every night, keeping up the housework and doing laundry. Luke always thanked me as if I were the help.

One day I was sick with a cold and didn't get around to cooking. Lucas and I were knocked out on the couch when Luke came in. I was startled awake when Luke took Lucas from my arms to put him to bed. When he came out, I was up and groggily picking up the living room.

"I'm sorry I didn't cook dinner tonight," I said.

"It's okay. Don't worry about it."

He loosened his tie and sat down on the couch.

"I can make you something."

"I'm fine, thank you."

After I finished picking up, I offered once more to make him dinner.

"I said no!" He snapped. "My G.o.d, it's not like you're my wife, Emmy.

I stood in front of the bedroom door frozen for a moment. I knew he was right, but it was harshly said.

"Okay then," I said softly and left him alone.

As Chicago announced the beginning of January with wind and snow and short days and long nights, there was little improvement between Luke and I. I was on the verge of screaming or crying or eating a whole apple pie every every day. To make matters worse, Lucas was calling Luke "Dah-Dah" and had not even tried "Ma." day. To make matters worse, Lucas was calling Luke "Dah-Dah" and had not even tried "Ma."

"He doesn't even know what he's saying," Luke had argued one afternoon.

"He looks right at you when he says it."

"Dah-Dah," Lucas agreed, looking right at his Dah-Dah.

One day in early December, Luke came home from the office, swooped Lucas into his arms and actually came into the kitchen where I was cooking.

"I need a huge favor," he said.

I looked at him expectantly.

"My office is a mess. It's so disorganized and we're incredibly busy. My receptionist...well, she's just a receptionist. I need someone to come in and get us organized and on track."

"You're asking me?" I said, not hiding my surprise.

"Yes, I am. You're a very good office manager. I wish I had thought to ask you sooner."

I didn't know anything about Luke's firm except that he and three other attorneys worked there. I had never even set foot in the place. And he never talked to me about work, because he never talked to me.

"I can try." I shrugged and refocused on the stove. "When?"

"Tomorrow."

"What am I supposed to do with Lucas?"

"Lena will take him."

This was it. The time has come where I have to part with my child for hours a day while I worked, except I didn't expect it to come so soon. I was financially stable, didn't need to earn a living, and would have been able to stay at home with Lucas until he was ready for school. But Luke's success had a direct impact on Lucas, so I would have to bite the bullet.

"I'll do it," I said.

"Thank you so much," he gushed. "I know you will be a big, big help."

"I hope so."

"You will be. I know it. Hey, at least this gets you out of the house for a little while. Maybe this will be good for you. You haven't been yourself." He tried to sound casual when he said it, but there was more lying under his tone.

"I haven't been myself in two years," I said, keeping my eyes on the task at hand.

"Look, I know I haven't made things any easier. I guess I didn't realize how bad things are here until Lena brought it to my attention."

I looked at him for clarification. I never discussed Luke unless Lucas was involved. I was curious to know what Lena said.

"She said it was like a tomb in here, that unless we're talking to or about Lucas we don't talk at all. She said that even when we're at family functions, I barely acknowledge you."

He answered Lucas's babble for a minute, and then stood there quietly for another minute until I spoke.

"What else did Lena say?"

"She said that she thinks you're depressed and that you think you deserve how I treat you, and that you're still beating yourself up. I guess I didn't stop to think about it before today, or I just looked the other way, but I suppose she's right, on all accounts. I argued with her at first, but she got really pushy, as only a big sister can do."

I said nothing. I turned the stove off and started to clean up some of the mess while I waited for the white wine sauce I made to thicken up.

"I'm really looking at you for the first time since the day I met Lucas. Em, you just seem...hollow. Like everything that makes you who you are is missing."

"Who am I really?" I asked, scrubbing a pan. "The woman who steals another woman's man? Am I the woman who cheats a good man out of everything he deserves? Or am I the woman who lets herself be used and abused? Maybe I'm the woman who keeps a child from his loving father. That's who I am, Luke. You're not missing anything great."

Luke stood there staring at me with his mouth hanging open, oblivious to Lucas's s...o...b..ry hands on his face.

"Don't look so surprised," I said, taking plates and silverware out. "You said yourself that you were wrong about who I am."

He tried to argue, sputtered out words and half sentences for a full minute before giving up. I took Lucas from his arms.

"I'll put him down for bed," I said. "Enjoy your dinner."

The following morning, our discussion from the previous night was temporarily forgotten. There was a lot of rus.h.i.+ng around before piling Lucas, his stuff, and ourselves into Luke's car. He wanted to get into the office early, so I didn't have a lot of time to say goodbye to Lucas. I had to suck it up and make it quick and leave.

In the car, Luke gave me some information about his firm. There were four attorneys, one receptionist and one paralegal. They had sixteen open cases, and had to turn away a few people because they didn't have enough lawyers, and they weren't organized enough either. There were boxes of papers that needed to be filed, equipment that still had not been set up and the office looked a little trashy. I also found out my brother Emmet was strongly considering moving to Chicago to join the firm. I wasn't sure how I felt hearing it from Luke opposed to hearing it from Emmet.

Nothing Luke said could prepare me for the mess that was Kessler and Keane, Attorneys at Law. I stood in the center of the main room where there should have been desks and filing cabinets and office equipment, turning in slow circles, looking at the disaster.

"I tried to warn you," Luke said.

Steven, the Keane of the business, stood on the other side of me with a cup of Starbucks coffee, looking bored.

"Luke said you can fix this s.h.i.+t," he yawned.

"How much money can you spare?" I asked. "You need more people here."

"Money is a little tight right now," Luke answered, running his fingers through his hair. "We have a few big ticket cases, but only one is close to settling and the others are still tied up in paperwork. We're basically working for nothing."

"This place looks terrible. It's a wonder you have even sixteen clients."

Luke suppressed a smile. "Please, tell us how you really feel."

I narrowed my eyes at him and then at Steve. Luke bowed his head, Steve shrugged. The door opened and a young woman in her early twenties with blue and green streaks in her black, large, Amy Winehouse hairdo, greeted us with the enthusiasm of a rock before taking her seat at what I a.s.sumed was the reception desk. Her makeup was too loud and bright for her current line of work and her outfit was wickedly tight, but severely cheap, and looked out of place. She sat at the desk, chomping on gum and texting.

I heard the door open again, but I was already approaching the girl and didn't want another distraction. I stood over her desk, which was very messy, I noted.

"What is your name?" I asked her.

"Kacey," she answered in a bored tone.

"Kacey, spit out your gum."

"Excuse me?" She looked up at me, surprised by my tone.

"Spit out your gum. No client wants to look at the wad of gum and spit in your mouth while you're talking. And you have a week to fix your hair or buy a wig, or do whatever it is you need to do. It's unprofessional. This isn't a club, so don't come in here dressed for one, and that includes your make up. Tone it down, and you're att.i.tude needs improvement."

"Who the h.e.l.l are you and who the f.u.c.k do you think you're talking to?" She stood up, angry and ready to pounce, but I didn't back down.

"Listen, Kacey, this is a professional office, or at least it's supposed to be. I have nothing personal against your style, but it does not fit into this office - or many others for that matter. You are going to be the first person a client sees when they walk in here, and the first one they speak to on the phone. You need to look and behave professionally. If you don't want to conform to our standards, I can hire someone who does. It's your choice."

She looked behind me at her bosses, and realized that they were with me on this and eased herself back into her chair.

"I don't want to lose my individuality," she looked panicked at the idea.

"You can go work somewhere else if you want," I shrugged.

After a moment of thoughtful silence, she quietly said "I'll stay."