Springer Mountain Bride

Ducking beneath the covers, I laid my face against Molly's midriff and felt my daughter pressing out against my cheek.

"Hello, little one," I spoke to her softly. "Did we bounce you around a bit too much earlier?"

Molly laughed.

"I'm sorry, but you'll have to get used to it. When your mommy is in the mood, she just can't keep her hands off of me."

"Hey! Don't tell her that!" Molly objected mirthfully. She tried to pull me back up to her, but I resisted, pushing her hands away.

"What's that, little one?" I asked, pressing my ear to Molly's side. "Oh ok, I'll tell her."

"What did she say?" she asked with an incredulous smirk as I emerged from under the sheets and settled in next to her again.

"She says SNL was way better in the 70s, and she wants us to name her Gilda."

Molly's eyes went wide with mock indignation as she stifled a laugh. She held up the covers to address her naked belly. "You'd better watch it young lady, or I'll name you Eadie Murphy! You just see if I don't."

"Aww... you ruined it," I lamented, when I finally stopped laughing, "I could have gone with either Eadie or Murphy, but now I'm just going to think of Eddie's laugh every time I hear either of them."

"Julia Louis?" she suggested.

"Yeah, that could work," I considered. "Except for the rule against naming her after a living person."

"Dammit."

After a few more names failed to take hold, we eventually fell back to sleep, all four of our hands cradling the new life growing within her.

***

When I woke up Saturday morning, I rolled over and found the bed empty. I sat up and quickly assessed that Molly was gone. Dammit, she did it again! There must be a reason why Molly keeps walking out on me while I'm sleeping. I haven't figured it out yet, but I will.

{Now you're just doing it on purpose} I texted to her with the most annoyed looking emoji I could find.

I took a shower when I got tired of waiting for a reply, and when I got out, her response was on my phone.

{Sorry! I don't usually get rush hour fares. 3 already!}

Last night's argument had sort of been brushed away without really resolving anything. I was irritated with her for leaving without a word again, but I was also hopeful that making some money in Columbus this morning might convince her that it made sense to move here with me. So I decided to be supportive.

{Good for you!} I told her with a thumbs up emoji.

I'd planned to catch a flight home today instead of waiting until Sunday, but now I was thinking it might be good to spend a day getting to know the city I was planning to move to. I wrestled with whether or not to tell Molly. On the one hand it would have been nice to spend the day (and another night) with her. On the other hand, I didn't want to risk restarting that argument.

In the end I decided to avoid a conflict and hoped Molly would spend the day discovering for herself just how much better her prospects were in Columbus.

{Found an earlier flight home} I lied.
{You keep working. I'll make my own way to the airport.}

***

Something maternal had awoken in Molly after my visit. I'm just guessing, but I think feeling the baby kick had finally made the concept of parenthood real for her. She stopped talking about the PCT or the Tour du Mont Blanc or the Routeburn Track and developed an interest in Lamaze and midwives and epidurals.

It didn't take long for Molly to decide she wanted to have the baby at home. Her parents though were not enthusiastic about the "hippie-dippy" idea. I'm not proud of it, but I saw the conflict as an opportunity to convince Molly to move out and I encouraged her to stand her ground. After all, my sister Teresa had both of her kids at home, and that all worked out well.

Molly sent me articles on water births and swaddling, and we'd talk about what kind of music to play for the baby in utero or the difference between midwives and doulas. And there was always a back and forth about names.

Molly tried for a while to get up to Columbus every day to drive, but it didn't really work out. The four-hour round trip commute was expensive and exhausting and it put an extra burden on her parents trying to get her mom to and from work. She had pretty much decided to give up on the Uber gig when she caught a break.

"It's just a simple tri-fold brochure for a non-profit in Denver," she explained on the phone. "It's only gonna take me a few hours, and I had to lowball my rates on Upwork to compete with the designers in Asia, but the client puts out new brochures several times a year and if they like this one, I might get steady work. And get this—they do trade shows! Oh, if I could design a new trade show booth..."

"That's great news! Does this mean you're getting back into freelancing?"

"Trying to keep my hand in at least. My mom and dad think it's too unpredictable and want me to keep looking for a 'real job'. I'm really scraping the bottom of the barrel now, but it's a my-house-my-rules kind of thing."

"Y'know, you don't have to live in their--"

"Don't start again, Chris!" she cut me off.

"...Alright, I'm sorry. I'm happy you're making money at something you enjoy. One way or another, you've got this... on your own," I capitulated, knowing I had a phone interview with Ohio State University the next morning. I wanted to tell her, but I didn't want to start a fight, so I didn't.

***

"What, like a professor?" Will asked with a strained expression that showed just how hard he was trying to keep his opinion to himself.

"No, still Project Management, with OSU Facilities. Construction and maintenance projects mostly."

I'd invited Will out to lunch at our favorite crab house to break the news after they made me an offer. Late March was still too early for fresh local crabs, but I wasn't going to be around when they came back into season.

"So you're gonna take the job?"

"Yeah, I think I have to. I put in my two-weeks' notice yesterday."

"Is it more money, at least?"

"No, a lot less. The cost of living is lower out there though, and they offer tuition assistance for dependents, which is nice... but even so I'm going to take a hit."

"Well, I'm gonna miss you, man. But if this is what you think you have to do..." He trailed off shaking his head.

"For my kid, Will. I gotta do it for my daughter."

"Yeah, I get that. I'd do the same thing for Kevin. But..." Will was clearly conflicted. He had something on his mind, but he didn't want to say it. "...ah, nevermind."

"No, tell me. But what?" I prompted.

He stalled, taking another swallow of his beer, then sighed and without looking me in the eye he asked "Are you sure Danger Girl is really into you? 'Cause it kind of sounds to me like she's just stringing you along as her back-up plan if she can't do any better."

That hurt.

"I mean, don't get me wrong," Will continued, obliviously, "you're great and all. But are you the kind of guy she goes for? Like, are you even her type? This Bryan guy, she broke up with—what was he like?"

I'd never asked Molly about Bryan. It seemed like a sore subject, and honestly, the less I knew about him the easier it was to dismiss him.

"See, we know he was a big outdoorsman—through-hiking the Appalachian Trail with her and all. Maybe he's like a hunter or one of those extreme adventure guys. Like, one of those guys who drives a Jeep with the oversized tires and that snorkel thing. If that's the kinda guy Danger Girl is into, is she ever really gonna be happy with a city boy who's lucky to get outdoors twice a year?"

As much as it hurt to hear it, Will made a lot of sense.

I'd always assumed that Molly was attracted to me—at least a little. But thinking about it now, when we'd hooked up, I'd simply been convenient. Would she have ever called me again if she hadn't gotten pregnant? I had sort of used the pregnancy to leverage her into a relationship that maybe she didn't want. Would we have hit it off if we'd met under different circumstances? Would we have ever matched on a dating app?

I know Will meant well, but he'd sort of turned my world upside down. What if Molly felt like she was just stuck with me?

It was a lot to think about, and it made focusing on my work that afternoon difficult.

Transferring my projects to my co-workers was going to be a big job, and two weeks was not a lot of time to do it. Stopping every few minutes to wonder if I was making a huge mistake wasn't helping.

Then around mid-afternoon, just as I was thinking a run to the coffee shop might be in order, Molly called. I really wasn't in any mood to talk to her at that moment, but then I felt guilty about that, so after letting the phone ring a little too long, I finally picked up the call.

"Hey," I answered brightly, trying to hide any trepidation.

"...Chris?" she said with that catch that usually meant she had been crying or was trying not to.

"Yeah, is everything ok?"

"I... I can't stay here... I have to get out, Chris... I can't stay here!" she broke down sobbing. It was distressing to hear the panic in her voice.

"Hey, hey it's alright, Molly. It's all going to be ok," I tried to soothe her. "Take a deep breath and tell me what happened."

"I got a..." she stuttered to sniff back her tears, "a job interview at the dollar store down the street... I could walk if I have to, so I wouldn't even need my mom's car... I was really excited about it, too.

"But the manager who interviewed me... Chris, she was a girl I went to high school with. She's been working at the same place since she was sixteen and she's never been farther from home than Cleveland, and she's stuck here with four kids and she'll never do anything else and I can't let that happen to me, Chris, I can't, I just can't." She was starting to sound panicked again.

"It's alright, Molly. It's ok. I'll tell you what, I'll fly out to Columbus this weekend, and we can start looking for an apartment or--"

"No!" she cut me off. "I can't wait that long. I... I'm at the bus station. I have enough for a ticket to Baltimore. Can I... Chris, can I come stay with you? Please?"

"Uh--"

Why was this hard? This shouldn't be hard. This should be the easiest 'Yes' of my life. But all my plans had been about starting a new life in Ohio; one specifically built around Molly and our daughter. Trying to shoehorn the two of them into the life I had here—that was very different and I didn't know how to do it.

And if things went badly, what was my Plan B? In Columbus, Molly had her parents close by. If we split up, I could come back to Baltimore. If she moved here, I had no escape route. I was a little startled to realize that I wanted an escape route.

On top of all that, Will had gotten into my head. I couldn't shake the feeling that maybe—just maybe—Molly was using me.

"Uh," I said again when the pause had gotten awkwardly long.

"Yes!" I finally managed to blurt. "Yes, of course you can. I'm... I'm sorry, that just came out of the blue and it took me a second to process."

"No, I'm sorry I have to ask. I kinda... ran away from home, and if I have to turn around and go back... I don't know what I'd do," she sniffled. "Thank you."

"I'm happy to do it," I assured her. "Look, let me get you a plane ticket, ok? That's gonna be a long bus ride."

"No, Chris. Thank you, but... I can do this much by myself. I have to do this much by myself."

"Alright," I relented. "Alright, let me know what time your bus will get in and I'll meet you at the station, ok?"

"I will. Thank you. I'll see you soon."

"Ok, see you soon."

After tapping off the call, I sat for a while and collected my thoughts, then went up to the Human Resources office to find out what was involved in—what? Unresigning? Deresigning? Irresigning? You know it's going to be complicated if they don't even have a word for it. It's a good thing they like me up there, because I created quite a few headaches.

After that, I took the rest of the day off and went home to try and make the place presentable.

***

I'd never been to the new downtown bus station on Haines Street. The neighborhood didn't seem much nicer than the old station off O'Donnell Street, but at three o'clock in the morning, it was tough to judge. Molly's bus got in at 3:20.

She shuffled through the arrivals door with the other disembarking passengers, her trail pack slung over one shoulder. Her eyes were red and puffy, and more than just tired she looked so defeated.

Molly set down her pack and tried to smile as I took her in my arms, but she couldn't quite manage it. As I held her close, she cried on my shoulder and muttered "I'm so sorry. I never wanted to be a burden. I'll pay you whatever I can."

"You're not a burden," I assured her after kissing the top of her head. "C'mon, let's get you to bed. You'll feel better in the morning."

"Ok," she agreed, and actually managed a small smile.

I picked up her pack, and taking her hand, led her out to the parking lot.

"Was Jennifer well behaved on the trip?" I asked, trying out yet another name.

"'Jennifer' is too common," Molly shook her head, cradling her stomach. "There are Jennifers everywhere. But yeah, Bethany got a little restless when we changed busses in Pittsburgh, but otherwise she slept the whole way."

"I went to my first middle school dance with a 'Bethany'," I winced and gestured towards my car. "This is me."

"You drive a Subaru?" she asked as I tossed her pack in the back seat.

"Yeah, why?"

"My dad has you pegged as a Mercedes guy," Molly smirked, climbing into the passenger seat and fastening her seat belt. "I earn a six-figure salary!" she mocked in a false baritone. "I get bonuses and profit sharing!"

"Oh, God," I groaned in embarrassment, recalling my tirade in her parent's living room, "I'm never going to live that down, am I?"

"Doubt it," she smiled, and it was good to see her mood improving. "They're pretty pissed at you again... I may have implied that you convinced me to leave."

"Well, what else is new?" I groused. Molly's relationship with her parents was clearly complicated. I'd have to figure it out eventually, but not tonight.

Fifteen minutes later we pulled up in front of my row house.

"This is what passes for waterfront property in Baltimore?" she asked, looking from the cluttered facade of wooden decks and sliding glass doors out to the brackish expanse of the Back River across the street.

"Technically, we're in Essex. Why? Did I oversell it?"

"I dunno," she yawned. "I guess I pictured something a little less... urban."

"Oh, just wait 'til the sun comes up." My street got a lot more urban once you could see the hodge podge of colors and finishes and creative remodeling that had accumulated since the neighborhood was built in the 70s. I carried her pack up the front stoop and opened the door onto the living room where I'd purposely left the lights on.

"Let me guess," Molly observed looking around. "You got the house, but your ex-wife got everything in it?"

It wasn't the first time since I'd moved in that I'd been accused of living like a broke college student. But still. "Ouch! You get snarky when you're tired, y'know that? You can give me decorating advice in the morning. Now it's bedtime."

She opted to forego any usual nighttime rituals and simply stripped to her underwear before letting me tuck her into my bed.

"Alright, I'm going to crash on the couch tonight. Do you need anything else?"

"Mmm, don't be stupid, Chris. Get into bed," she instructed drowsily.

"You sure that's a precedent you want to set?"

"Your chivalry is duly noted, Galahad," she yawned. "Now turn off the lights and come to bed."

So I crawled into bed next to her and she spooned up against me and within minutes I was asleep.

The alarm went off the next morning and I groggily slapped at the snooze button. Nine minutes later, it went off again, and I dragged myself out of bed to bathroom. Yeah, it took me a minute. When I turned back to confirm my suspicion, sure enough the bed was empty and Molly was gone.

I staggered down the stairs in my boxers stopping on the landing above the living room. She was there sitting sideways on the sofa with a mug of coffee and her laptop. Good Morning America was on the TV with the volume turned down low.

"Hey, you," she smiled brightly up at me.

"Oh God, you're one of them," I moaned, scratching my disheveled head.

"One of who?"

"You're a... morning person," I grumbled and turned back up the stairs. My brain was still in first gear, but that was sufficient explanation for all the times she'd left me to wake up alone.

"...Is that a deal breaker?" she called after me.

"Meh," was the best response I could muster until I came back downstairs twenty minutes later, showered, shaved, and dressed. She was waiting at the bottom of the stairs with a fresh mug of coffee.

"I couldn't find any creamer or sugar. I'm guessing you take it black."

"Yeah, black is fine," I confirmed taking a sip. "Mmm! This is really good. Is this my coffee?"

"Unless you have a roommate you forgot to mention, it is."

"Alright, well, Ms. Morning Person, you are officially on permanent coffee duty. I need to head to work. Will you be ok here on your own?"

She looked at me with a beleaguered expression. "Who ya talkin' to, Chris?"

"Right. What was I thinking?" After three months alone on the Appalachian Trail, I don't think anyone was more ok to be on their own.

"If you need anything, pretty much everything is in walking distance up on Essex Boulevard, about two blocks that way," I pointed.

"Nah, I have plenty to do here," she said, gesturing to her laptop. "I need to find a new doctor, update all my job site accounts, and set up some new searches. "

"I see you found the wi-fi password ok."

"You mean the post-it note on the modem, by the TV? Yeah. After that, Charlotte and I should unpack and do some laundry... No, nevermind, I don't like 'Charlotte' now that I say it out loud. Oh, have you got a washer and dryer?"

"Down in the basement. Empty hangers might be hard to come by, but feel free to reorganize the closet and the dresser and free up as much space as you need."

"Do you need me to run a load for you, too?" she offered.

"I, um... I kinda tossed all my laundry in the spare bedroom yesterday," I confessed. "Please don't look in there yet. It's... not flattering."

"Alright," she agreed with a grin. "Once you get it sorted, I'll run it for you."

I finished my coffee and set my mug in the sink. "Ok, I have to run. Text me if you need anything."

"I will. Have a good day. And Chris..." She kissed me on my way out the door. She took my face in her hands and her lips expressed the depth of her appreciation in a way that made me forget I'd had less than four hours of sleep. "...Thank you."

And just like that we were living together.

After pizza the first night, Chinese take-out the second, and wings the third, Molly finally herded me to the grocery store and she took over the kitchen as well as half my closet. We set up a nursery in the second bedroom and she painted a mural of the Assateague Island ponies on the long wall.

Molly applied for several graphic designer jobs, but nothing ever came of them. She had a couple of interviews, but she was now quite obviously in her third trimester. Who would bring on a new hire only to put her on maternity leave before she even got up to speed? At least she'd found a suitable rate on the design-for-hire websites she used. It was less than she used to charge, but she began to get more freelance work. And the Denver people asked her to do another tri-fold.

My sister gave me the name of her doula-slash-midwife and after meeting with her, Molly felt an immediate connection, so she signed us up for pre-birthing classes. She also found a yoga class at my gym and we went to work out together twice a week.