Friction

Cate told him she was pregnant on a Saturday evening. She said it with glistening eyes and hands folded protectively over her stomach. She looked at him, expecting something but receiving nothing. 

John dabbed the napkin on his lips. “Excuse me,” he pardoned, and rose from his seat. Cate watched him walk towards the bathrooms. 

In the car, driving back to their apartment, Cate let her hand sit on John’s shoulder. “What do you think?” 

“What do you mean?” John asked carelessly, his eyes flying all over the road. 

Cate sighed, “What do you think of me being pregnant?” 

John instantly fell silent. He shook her hand off his shoulder and gulped visibly. “I’m driving and you’re distracting. Can’t we discuss this when we’re home?” 

Cate took her hand back and rolled her lips together. She tasted artificial raspberries. The “promise” lipstick John had given her a few months before they were married. 

They’d only talked about having kids once. It was their third date or so and Cate was madly in love already. John didn’t suspect a thing because he was blind to the painted backdrop and was focusing only ahead. 

“Do you want to have kids?” she’d asked him. 

He dropped his fork onto the plate and it clattered loudly. Good thing nobody in the restaurant noticed his surprise. “Do you?” 

Cate glanced at his ear, avoiding his gaze. “I want seven children. Four girls, three boys, two cats, and a dog.” 

“And a warthog and ten dancing mice and one rolling-dice. Plus five men named Calvin and six sticky notes and only two portraits of my dead mother,” John mocked cautiously. He didn’t think she got the joke. 

Cate looked down at her toes that stuck out of her sandals at odd lengths. She’d thought that maybe one of her seven children would have odd toes like her. She wanted to laugh at the silly rhyme but couldn’t because John hadn’t answered the question. 

“Cate.” A blur of skin flashed in front of her face. “Cate, we’re home.” 

Cate’s eyelids lifted like they weighed more than that unsettling feeling in her stomach. “John?” her voice was chopped and scratched. 

“I’m going to bed,” he answered, leaving the car door open and obviously trying to get away from her as fast as possible. 

The cold air whistled and swirled around her. Cate sighed heavily. Was there something wrong with her being pregnant? Why didn’t John like it? She shivered and helped herself out of her seat. John had left the keys nestled on the dashboard so she closed all the doors and locked the car. 

When inside, she brushed her teeth but didn’t floss. Today she was feeling rebellious and it seemed like the only thing she could do against John. He was always telling her to brush, floss, wash, and sleep in her lacy pajamas. 

Today she slept in a shirt with a big Nike logo across the front. It was really all she could do. 

“John?” she asked, as she crawled into bed. 

“Honey?” he responded groggily. 

She faced her back towards him as he was doing to her. “Why won’t you tell me your opinion? You’re usually so good at it.” Oops. She hadn’t meant to jab at him. 

John chuckled softly. “Ouch. I’m so tired, Cate. Let’s discuss this in the morning.” 

“No,” Cate mumbled, “now.” John stayed quiet. “Really, what’s the big deal? You won’t even have to take care of it. I’ll have to breastfeed it and be by its side all night. And dammit, I’ll have to give birth to it too!” Cate’s voice was escalating with every word. 

Still, silence teased the air in the room by pulling on all its strings. John let out the most fake snore and forced his eyes shut. 

Cate didn’t say another word all night long. 

“I think I’m going insane,” she told the pink-cheeked therapist sitting across from her. “John is ignoring me and every time I try and talk to him he doesn’t talk or changes the subject.” 

The woman frowned, or maybe it was just her resting expression. “This is common. Just give him some time to think about the whole situation. You could also get an abortion.” 

Cate was disgusted at her answer and tugged absentmindedly on the threads that held the couch together. It was an old couch. She’d know because every session she’d sit on that couch and wait for the old woman to tell her the same thing over and over again. “Give it time.” For ten straight years. Then they’d begin to talk about her many cats. 

She was afraid of cats but not human babies. Cate made this very clear to her therapist before stumbling out of the door and watching the white walls disappear from view. 

When she returned home, she smelled something peculiar. Something with lots of cheese and butter. Something from her childhood. 

“Hello?” she called. There came a whistle from the kitchen. 

Cate hung her coat on the rack and tiptoed into the next room. There she saw John, wrapped in an apron, eyes closed, and humming the song that they played at their wedding. His hair was messily tossed around on his face and one hand was controlling a pan on the stove. On the pan were two double-decker grilled cheeses. Cate’s favorite. 

“John?” she asked. 

His eyes flew open and saw her. “Cate, my dear!” he exclaimed, rushing towards her and twisting her into the tightest embrace. “Oh, Cate, oh. I’m so glad you’re home. The grilled cheeses are almost ready. Please, sit.” John ushered her over to their two-person dining room table. 

Then he kissed her on both cheeks and backed away. Cate didn’t like the feeling of his lips on her cheeks but it was over now. 

He grabbed two clean plates and slid the sandwiches onto them. Setting them down on the table, Cate gulped her water down and grabbed at his shirt. “This was so nice of you, John, but why?” 

John’s smile decreased only a little bit but his eyes still sparkled. He pressed his lips together and took a bite of his sandwich. Cate did the same. 

It was warm with steam billowing off in large waves. It was also cheesy and salty and everything she needed at that moment. 

John swallowed hastily and dropped his back onto the plate. There were only three beats of rest before John spoke. “You know, we’re going to need a bigger dining table. This only fits two.” 

Cate stopped chewing immediately and glanced at him curiously across the table. “What?” 

“You know, since we’re having a baby.” The words rolled off his tongue easily and with no friction whatsoever. 

She licked the grease off her lips and pressed her hands into her face. How would she tell him this? He was sitting in front of her like a puppy with round eyes and a small mind. She squished the sandwich with her fingers. “We’re not.” 

It was his turn to say, “What?” 

“Why did you change your mind?” Cate challenged. 

John rubbed his temples, “Because I wasn’t supporting you. I want you to know I’m all in with the baby. You won’t be alone.” 

Out of the blue, Cate felt rage ripple through her. He ignored her for a day and now was excited? It was all too confusing. “I’m getting an abortion,” Cate decided through a clenched jaw. “It’s not set in stone. All I need to do is call the doctor and ask for one. That’s exactly what I’m going to do.” 

John picked at something in his teeth and frowned deeply. It was a few seconds before he smiled and it didn’t travel up to his eyes. Then he laughed. And cleared his plate. And went to bed. 

Cate washed the dishes, humming to that same wedding song John had been humming before. It made her want to sway her hips but she didn’t. 

Creeping up the stairs and into the bathroom, she realized she’d forgotten the words to the song. Now it was only a melody. 

She locked herself in the bathroom. It was cold in there with blue tiles and silver knobs. Cate took out her phone and rubbed the goosebumps on her arms, listened to John’s snores for a little while. 

Then, without hesitation, she dialed a familiar number. 

“Hello? Dr. Willson? Yes, it’s Cate Belletrini . . .”