Maybe it also had to do with the starvation-for-adult-interaction thing that I was experiencing. Since Jack and I had agreed to table sex—gah! Not like that! Not to have table sex. The agreement to table the sex option—i.e., to not have sex, period. That agreement.
Since our agreement on that issue, I’d been kind of avoiding him, just to give us each space and not to get in each other’s way. This meant that almost all of my human interaction was now relegated—again—to being between me and my baby boy. In itself, this was normal and great and right for new mamas. I knew that. But I couldn’t help missing full sentences and interchanging ideas.
Grath and mystery man’s appearance was like a get-out-of-jail-free card. They couldn’t have come at a better time, either, with Peter just out in a brand new milk-induced coma. I likely had a good two hours of free time before his next waking cycle began.
“How’s the beautiful mamacita doing today?” Grath pulled me into a bear hug.
“I’m good. Chugging along. You good?” I returned the volley.
“All good. Ellie-ba-dellie, I want you to meet Steph, my partner.” He grabbed and squeezed Steph’s hand very quickly before continuing like a freight train. “Steph, this is the incredible woman I told you about. Mother to the miracle baby. Is he up?” Grath was looking around, as if Peter could come walking out of one of the back rooms at any moment. Steph was just looking at me appraisingly, not without some humor at his partner’s apparent ADHD.
I had guessed earlier that Grath might be gay; he wasn’t flamboyant, but there was just that little something in his profusive personality to suggest it. Now Steph’s appearance on the scene was confirmation. They looked really good together, these two, and I was glad to see that for Grath, even though I barely knew him. It was always good to see happy, well-matched couples.
“Hiya, Steph. Come on in. Grath, what are you doing here, middle of the day? Playing hooky?” I winked at him.
“Naw, honey, just came to check in on you. Got something I need to run by you. You got some time to talk, or did you make big plans for the afternoon with your little man?”
I assured him no, offered drinks, played hostess with the mostest, as one does. We settled in the living room, and had a momentary lull. I sensed there was more to this visit than a friendly little drop-in, but I was unprepared for the bomb Grath was about to drop on me.
“You remember that rock that that asshole dropped through the window?”
“Of course.”
“Well, it came with a note attached. Gotta know if you can decipher it for me.” And he took a dirty, wrinkled sheet of white paper out of his pocket and dropped it on the coffee table.
I took a few seconds, just looking at it and at him, threw a glance at Steph, who was watching me closely, and leaned forward to pick it up. When I read those nasty, ugly words, I freaked out internally, and I felt my color rise. “Oh, my God.” I didn’t even say the words outright, more just mouthed them, because speech had left me momentarily.
“Make any sense to you, Ellie?”
Now they were both watching me like eagles. I felt like I was going to barf.
“He’s crazy. He’s really, really crazy. Oh, my God.”
That was the best I could do at that moment.
“What is he talking about, there? What did he do for you?”
I didn’t know, not for sure. I mean, I had thought…but I had hoped I was wrong. But this seemed to confirm my worst fears, and it was time to own up. I truly got sick to my stomach, and made a run for the toilet, barely making it there in time.
I lost my lunch in the most unpleasant of ways, and then sensed Grath taking up space over me in the small bathroom, running water over a washcloth. He squeezed out the excess and pressed it to my forehead. I had pretty much done with the barfing part by now, and was just breathing heavily, on my knees in front of the toilet, waiting to make sure there was no more coming.
“You okay now?” he softly asked after a few minutes.
“Yeah. Thanks.”
“You think you can talk about it?”
“Yeah. I think I need to. Just give me a minute, okay? I’ll come back out. Just want to wash out my mouth first.”
“Sure thing. Take your time. We’re not going anywhere.”
“’Kay.”
I cleaned myself up and thought about how I could possibly explain my worst fears, now seemingly confirmed by that nasty, dirty, repugnant note. It had already been several days since that crazy day when Brian showed up here at Jack’s place. So much had happened…