The Rest Will Come Read online

  The world was silent outside of her cavernous home. The sound of her door slamming echoed across the street, and each crunch of her footsteps lingered in the night air.

  I really am crazy.

  The thought managed to sneak across her mind before she leaned forward into her run.

  The ground compacted underneath Emma with every stride, as if the Earth vanished under her feet. Even over her music, she could still hear the smoosh of the snow, feel it reverberating up her calves. The fresh, powdery snow slowed her pace. She became hyper-aware of each movement, of the texture of the ground beneath her shoes, the snowflakes striking and piling on her shoulders and the top of her head. Wayward flakes clung to her eyelashes.

  As she breathed, her exhalations plumed in the light of her headlamp. She ran through the swirling clouds feeling like a dragon. The steady flow of snowflakes passed in front of her, stealing her light and shielding her sight from the world around her, blurring past her like stars in a science-fiction movie.

  Encompassed by quiet, she plodded past each peaceful looking house in her neighborhood. She was the only person crazy enough to be out in this weather at night. The clouds hung low, hugging the Earth and insulating the wind. The air between the flakes was crisp and sharp and silent.

  The cold spoke to Emma on a cellular level; her body felt at ease with the chill. She felt special to be the only witness to the calm dusting, the way the weather was changing the world around her. The snow bit on her toes through her socks, on her fingertips through her gloves, on her exposed nose and cheeks. The heat radiating from her core had her sweating despite the frost.

  As the miles disappeared behind Emma, she lost herself. For a blissful second, her mind became impossibly blank. She only watched the snow, commanding her legs to move and her lungs to breathe. She tugged the earbuds from her ears to immerse herself in the peace she found in the snowfall, a peace she so desperately wanted to feel below her heart.

  Stride, stride, cloud of breath. Stride, stride, cloud of breath.

  There was only the rhythm of the run and her secret rendezvous with the night.

  When Emma arrived at her house, the snow on her had started to melt. The frigid dampness seeped through her layers. Her heartrate subsiding, her internal furnace kicked off, and she was able to appreciate the full chill that had penetrated her skin. When she peeled off her layers in front of the bathroom mirror, large red splotches spread over the surfaces of her bare body. The patches were cold to the touch, an odd contrast to the dried sweat also on her flesh. She scalded her skin in the shower and made that fire and hot tea.

  Dozing off on her couch later, Emma finally had a smile on her face.

  ***

  Emma ran the next day. And the day after that. Every time the house seemed too empty or the hours felt too lonely, she ran again. Four miles, seven miles, ten miles. The distances felt shorter and shorter with repetition. Gladys asked her each day when she was going to start running half marathons. Or full marathons.

  The skin on Emma’s feet withered and died in an endless rotation of peeling blisters and sluffing callouses, different pressure points from each pair of running shoes she bought. The murderous underwires from her bras rubbed holes in her chest then fully escaped to stab her. Injuries to match where the clasps of her bra had worn a permanent hole on her back.

  Emma’s body was perpetually sore. By the time the muscles recovered from one run, she was adding more miles to a new route. She found some perverse comfort in the pain. When her thighs raged against squatting at work, she found an unnatural sense of accomplishment, the way being sore from sex would spark a pleasant flashback. Back when she had sex.

  With an obsessive amount of running infused into her work-laden routine, the days and weeks dissolved less laboriously. On some days, Emma even felt like she might have discovered a way to be okay in the now. Or okay enough.

  After another double shift, she stumbled in the door to die on the cushions of her couch. Without any ambitions of running, she dumped her things by the door and collapsed. Her phone chimed from her purse across the room. Grumbling, she dragged herself reluctantly back to collect the wretched device.

  Ronnie: I have something to tell you.

  Ronnie: And I’m telling you over text because I don’t think you’re going to react well, and I want to let you deal with it however you need.

  Ronnie: I won’t take how you feel personally.

  Emma held the phone to her face anxiously, waiting for this catastrophic news. What could Ronnie have to tell her that she had to tell her like this?

  Ronnie: I’m pregnant.

  Emma dropped the phone. It bounced off the coffee table, disappearing onto the floor. Her hand remained frozen in front of her face as if she was still holding it. Her mouth hung ajar as she breathed heavily through it, hot tears tracking down her cheeks. She struggled to form thoughts.

  Without thinking, Emma changed her clothes, put on her shoes, and slammed out the door. She ran hard away from her house, like she was never coming back.

  Chapter 11

  The muted, steady cry of the newborn filled Ronnie’s apartment.

  “Could you please stop getting skinnier while I am stuck over here with a bowl full of jelly?” Ronnie said from the couch, surrounded by baby wipes, diapers, and a nursing pillow.

  “Could you please not have a baby while I am all alone and desperate for a family?” Emma responded.

  “Fine, fine. Touché,” Ronnie laughed. “Are you ultra marathoning? I know you’re upset about this baby thing, but Jesus, Emma. You’re going to run yourself to death.”

  “I’m not upset, Ronnie.”

  “Shhh! You can be happy for me and upset for you. I know the difference, and it doesn’t bother me.”

  “No, I am not ultra marathoning. Just running myself not miserable. I’m going to do a half marathon this spring.”

  “Awesome! You are one crazy bitch.”

  “You should start running with me. Baby recovery.”

  “Oh no, thank you. I am only running if something is chasing me. Or to get the wine. How I miss wine!”

  “You can’t have it now because of the breastfeeding.”

  “Eh, I can have it, kind of. I can’t get good and drunk like I want because then I give the baby drunk milk and that makes them stupid or something.” Ronnie giggled and winced.

  Emma cradled the tiny fussing child against her chest, rocking him into sleep. A tumultuous confliction of emotions raged behind her skin, rapping against her ribs as if reaching out to the baby. Josiah was beautiful, more beautiful than Emma could deal with. She could not discern between her swelling affection and her infectious envy. She only knew that she felt so much she thought she might implode into a swirling black hole in Ronnie’s living room, sucking in this perfect new little family.

  “Are you okay?” Emma asked Ronnie.

  “No. I just gave birth. Aside from being ripped in half and being stitched back together, I am having these lovely cramps that feel astoundingly like contractions, and my poor nipples are cracked and bleeding and stick to the inside of my bra so I have to rip them open every time that tiny monster is hungry. Which, by the way, is always.”

  “You make motherhood sound so magical.”

  “I’m sorry. It’s reality. I haven’t slept in four days and my body feels completely destroyed.”

  “Don’t sugar coat it for me.”

  “I never do. Hey, you should appreciate all the good things about not having a baby. Like an unstitched vagina or blood-free nipples.”

  “Gross, Ronnie.”

  “Exactly, Emma. Fucking gross. Welcome to my new life.”

  Terrence strolled in with a full water cup for Ronnie. He handed her the giant handled mug embossed with the hospital logo and looked to Emma. His eyes looked heavy and sunken with sleep deprivation, a delirious smirk played on his lips.

  “Do you want me to take my boy from you?” he asked.

  “Absolutel
y not,” Emma replied, holding Josiah closer to her chest.

  “You’re never going to see that baby when she’s here,” Ronnie said. “Make sure she doesn’t slip him in her purse on the way out.”

  “Yeah, Ronnie might appreciate the sleep without him, but I’m not letting this little man out of my sight.”

  Emma hated how happy and loving Terrence’s features formed when he looked down at the miniature child. She hated that she could sense the unadulterated bliss they were suppressing around her. She hated that she had to feel anything about herself while holding Ronnie’s child. She wanted to simply be happy for them. She wanted to be anything other than choking on the bitterness and jealousy that felt so unnatural to her.

  Josiah stirred in Emma’s arms, writhing his tiny body and pressing against the swaddled blanket patterned with different colored baby footprints. He opened his mouth in a silent cry that dissolved back into sleep. His body temporarily relaxed and went slack before he tensed again, this time emitting a sharp, muted cry. Clumsily, he shoved his wrinkled fist against his cheek.

  “Ugh, he’s hungry again,” Ronnie whined.

  “Don’t you dare give him to her,” Terrence said, swooping in and lifting the baby from Emma. “I’m getting my ten seconds with him to change his diaper. One day you’re going to want more than the boob, my man.”

  While Terrence changed Josiah, Ronnie positioned the nursing pillow on her lap and plucked her breast from her shirt. Emma thought she heard the rip when Ronnie pulled her nipple away from the fabric. Ronnie’s breathing stuttered and she grimaced. Terrence stood and lay the baby across the pillow. Josiah immediately rooted around against Ronnie.

  “Oh, I don’t want to do this,” Ronnie said, gathering her breast in her hand.

  She flinched as Josiah latched on, breathing out in sharp, stuttered breaths. Terrence sat beside her and let his hand move up and down her back slowly until she opened her eyes again.

  It was a beautiful new family moment, and Emma only felt like an intruder.

  “That does not look pleasant at all,” Emma said to shake the awkwardness.

  “It’s not,” Ronnie said. “I’m starting to question my decision making. I said I wanted to have kids, right?”

  “I believe those were your exact words,” Terrence replied.

  “Are you sure you didn’t trick me into this?”

  “Like I tricked you into being with me.”

  “You clever bastard! Seriously though, I’m not sure about this kid thing. Can I return him?”

  “Ronnie!” Emma squealed.

  “I don’t think you want to return him to where he came from,” Terrence said.

  “God, no. The delivery was bad enough.”

  “I have decided to try online dating,” Emma announced.

  “Wait, what?” Ronnie said. “Surely not because of this thing.” She looked down at Josiah, suckling away.

  “Ronnie, be nice to your baby. You love him.”

  “More than anything, but I can also appreciate that he might be trying to kill me.”

  “Stop being a baby,” Terrence said. He kissed Ronnie on the cheek and moved to the kitchen.

  “You push a baby out of your body then tell me that, Terrence! Okay, Emma, so online dating? Really?”

  “I’ve got to try something. I can’t do nothing besides run and work. I need to be more proactive.”

  “Is this because I had a baby?”

  “No, not entirely. I’ve been thinking about it for a while.”

  “Since I got pregnant?”

  “Get over yourself, Ronnie. I just don’t have anywhere to meet someone. I don’t date anyone from my jobs, and all I do is work or run by myself. Nothing is happening organically. I’ve been divorced for four years now. I’ve dealt with it. I’ve done my processing. I’ve become okay by myself. Now I need to try something new.”

  “Sounds sane and reasonable enough. Oooh, I never did online dating. Can I live vicariously through you while I’m trapped at home with a newborn baby?”

  “I guess. You can help me through the whole process, especially vetting the guys. Do you want to help me set up my profile?”

  “Yes!”

  “What are you doing tonight?”

  “Um, let me see here. I’m nursing a baby. Then, later, I might nurse a baby again. Followed by more nursing of a baby. And finally, waking up to nurse a baby.”

  “Think you can squeeze me into that tight schedule?”

  “Josiah can deal. Or I can nurse at his beck and call while we set up your profile. You know, one of those—damn it! I wish I could drink wine while we do this.”

  “I’ll drink wine for two. I will take that bullet for you.”

  “Aren’t you sweet? So what site are you using?”

  “I guess we decide that first. There are, like, a million of them. Marcia at work told me that some of them are understood to be exclusively for hooking up.”

  “You mean I could have been picking up random guys on the internet without ever having to go out?”

  “You could if you were still single.”

  “Man, that would have been a cakewalk! But the number on my headboard might have easily quadrupled, so perhaps it’s for the best.”

  “Yeah, you surely did not need any help ho-ing it up.”

  “Watch it! My son can hear you. Mommy was only kind of ho, Josiah. Temporarily.”

  “Uh huh. You spin that story however you want. Why don’t you tell him how you brought his dad to my wedding to bring you drinks and be your one night stand?”

  “Silence. I’ll cross that bridge when we get to it.”

  “At least you didn’t have a daughter.”

  “Thankfully! I have too much bad karma coming to survive a daughter.”

  “Guess you better not have another to be safe.”

  “Or because growing and having a child was horrible.”

  “Yeah, either way. Okay, shall we bust out a laptop?”

  “Yes. Mine is on the kitchen table.”

  While Emma went to retrieve the laptop, Terrence returned to the living room. “What are you girls plotting on now?” he asked.

  “We are writing Emma’s online dating profile. You want to help?” Ronnie replied.

  “Online dating? Not my strong suit.”

  “Dating was not your strong suit.”

  “Oh really? I managed to con you into dating me when you didn’t even want to date. That is some Jedi master shit right there.”

  “He’s got you there,” Emma laughed. “T, maybe I should have you write my profile. Make me appealing to guys who aren’t assholes.”

  “Hey, I said I could Jedi mind trick Ronnie. I did not say I could manage to weed out the assholes from my gender.”

  “Details.”

  “I am going to steal my son,” Terrence said, scooping up the snoozing baby, “and I am going to teach him how to play some quality first-person shooter. I got to start him young so that he can get paid to play video games for a living. You girls sit out here and concoct whatever sales pitch you need. You can call me in for final edits.”

  “Fine, fine. Happy gaming,” Emma said. She sat beside Ronnie and powered on the laptop.

  “Okay so how do we pick a site?” Ronnie asked. “I only know about the ones they advertise on TV and barely, because who still watches commercials?”

  “I know to stay away from Fish of the Sea and Humpr.”

  “Humpr? Seriously? That’s subtle. Ah, I was a hoochie before my time. These hoes today are just lazy!”

  “Matched.com seems legit. Then there’s eCompatible, but I’ve heard that it is like a million questions that take forever and costs a lot.”

  “Do they all cost?”

  “eCompatible always costs. The other sites have different levels of membership starting with free.”

  “You have been thinking about this.”

  “I like to do my research. Should I start with free?”

  “I think you
should pay.”

  “Why?”

  “Because I’m willing to bet that people who are looking for random hookups are not going to pay for the service.”

  “Good point. Spoken like a true retired ho.”

  “Watch it. I don’t have to help you. I could go back to my vampire baby. Okay, no. I have to help you.”

  “Matched.com’s basic membership is $30 a month. That seems reasonable enough. That’s, like, $1 per day. I could stomach that.”

  “Then that’s where we start.”

  “I’m going to need our wine now.”

  “You’re going to have to get it yourself because my reassembled ass is not hobbling to the kitchen for alcohol I have to watch you drink.”

  “Whew, someone is bitter!”

  “You’re messing with my booze here.”

  “No, I plan to drink your booze. In front of you.”

  “I’m sorry I had a baby, Emma! Have I not suffered enough?”

  “Not yet,” Emma chuckled, pouring a huge glass of wine. She sniffed it mockingly and took a long, exaggerated sip. “Ahhhhhhh! So refreshing.”

  “Yeah, fuck you. Just fuck you. I hope you date an endless string of creeps.”

  “No you don’t.”

  Ronnie sighed. “Fine, I don’t. But let me sip that wine.”

  “Sip.”

  “Yes, sip. Ahh, that is refreshing. You think he would sleep long enough for me to pound a glass?”

  “No. Now focus. The first thing we need to come up with is my username. Crap. What should my username be?”

  “That’s a harder question than it should be.”

  “Right.”

  “You don’t want to use your real name because that’s putting your real name out on the internet for any creeper, which I imagine there are many on such a site.”

  “Exactly.”

  “It’s your first impression, so you want to grab attention and entice them to read more.”

  “So it should be something I’m interested in or something I’m looking for.”

  “Can it be NoAssholesAllowed82?”