Page 27 of The Replacement Wife (New Hope 2)
“Yeah about that—” I pause and crack my knuckles.
She waits patiently for me to go on, but I can see I’m wearing her down. She isn’t used to people taking this approach with her. “You know what they say about pregnancy brain.”
“I’m afraid I don’t.”
My bad. It’s been a long time since she’s been pregnant. “Funny, how all that goes away with enough time.”
I see her jaw harden. Like the rest of her. Beth Jones isn’t a woman who likes to be reminded she’s aging.
I toss my hands up before dropping them in my lap. Eventually, I shove them between my thighs. It’s a submissive posture. “With so much to do around here…it keeps slipping my mind.”
Her eyes shift. She isn’t sure if I’m mocking her, or if I’m just stupid. Now that I have her properly confused, I bring it home. “Which reminds me…I was wondering…if you could…like…um… give me a refresher on the rules.”
Finally, I get a smile. My question, combined with the way it is posed, has confirmed her suspicion. It’s the latter. It’s her mouth I watch as she works out what to say next. She has that trout pout thing going, and I’m not sure if it’s work or if she’s just really unhappy or if it’s only temporary, like maybe she’s into those lip kit things that they’re always advertising on the internet.
“The rules,” she says. “Of course.” It’s clear what she thinks of me by the way she says it. Beth thinks I suffer from a low IQ. All beauty. No brains. What a terrible thing for her it would be if I were blessed with both. The threat of such a travesty out of the way, she adjusts her skirt and settles in.
When she starts to speak, I interrupt her. “I love that skirt. It’s such a statement piece.” Her eyes follow mine and land on her legs. “You have to tell me where I can find one…we could be, what do they call it…” I stop myself and stare into the air between us. Finally, I reach up and grab the thought. “Ah, matchy-matchy. I’ve always wanted to do that. Never had a sister… but now—”
Beth presses her perfect lips to one another. Lipstick stains her teeth when she opens her mouth. She smiles pleasantly. “I doubt they make your size.”
I feign surprise. I’m not as green as my counterpart thinks.
“I mean, I doubt they come in maternity.”
“You’re probably right.” I touch my stomach. “And I have every intention of getting as big as a house…”
She doesn’t outright say so, but I can see she likes the idea of this. “Anyhow—I’m short on time so let’s stay focused on the rules—”
“Yeah,” I agree, shooting for eager. “I just feel like Josie was so distracted that I didn’t get the full rundown.” My hand moves from my stomach to my heart. This makes sense to her. She sips her tea and waits for me to go on and so I do. “I really didn’t mean to upset the Men’s Alliance. I guess… it’s just…well, it’s easy to break the rules if you don’t know what they are.”
Her chest heaves. It’s like she’s deflating. No need to worry, her implants will keep her afloat. I’m impressed by the way they’re so…out there. They have to be Ds at least. I want to ask, but I don’t know the proper way to tell someone you like their tits without just coming out with it. This seems like it might be breaking the rules, and anyway, she speaks before I have the chance.
“Very true,” she tells me, and she seems relieved so it takes me a minute to remember what we’d been talking about. It helps when she goes on. “And, I couldn’t agree more. I think we should start from the beginning.”
“Wonderful,” I tell her, and that’s when I feel it. Unmistakable warmth, the wetness between my legs. It’s subtle at first but then I’m sure, and if I stay still for a moment I know I’ll get a proper gush. My period. I thank God. It’s right on time.
I realize Beth is waiting for me to speak. My head spins.
I do the only thing that makes any sense. I stand. Blood runs down my legs.
“Oh, my,” Beth says. And then, her face goes blank. “We’d better get you to the hospital.”
I do not for a second regret forgetting to suggest grabbing a towel on the way out.
My tragedy, my forgetfulness, earned Beth a new car. But that’s not all. It got rid of June’s horrid couch and the armchair went with it. Small sacrifices, as they say.
Chapter Ten
Tom
“Is it going to hurt?” It’s a ridiculous question, in retrospect. Of course, it was going to hurt. This might explain why I can’t force myself to look away. As the nurse readies the instruments, my wife lays motionless on the exam table. I stand beside her and watch. When I look down at Melanie, she isn’t watching. Her eyes are closed. I study the rise and fall of her chest. Her rate of breathing has increased. I can’t blame her for being nervous. She doesn’t want this, as much as she knows it has to happen. I think that’s why she refuses to look at me.
“It smells funny in here,” I mention casually. It’s supposed to smell clean and sterile. Like antiseptic. Instead it smells like someone heated up their lunch—an Indian dish—and that’s a real problem for me. I quite like Indian food.
This is sure to ruin it.
I let out a long and heavy sigh. When this is all over, I plan to have a word with management. It should be illegal to heat up your lunch in this kind of place, where things go to die.