Pretending Ch 07

© 2009 All Rights Reserved

"Connie!" Emily shouted at her sister happily while sitting on the front porch. Connie grinned as she stretched. She hadn't seen Emily in months. She got a shock, though, when Emily stood up—Emily was pregnant!

"Em!" She ran over to hug her sister. They embraced, then Connie stepped back, looking at Emily's slightly rounded figure. "When did this happen? How far along are you? Why didn't you tell me?"

Emily laughed. "Slow down, sis. I'm sure you know how this happened, and I'm about five months along."

"So why didn't you say anything?" They linked arms as they walked into the house and sat on a couch. "Is everything all right?" Connie asked with concern.

"It is now," said Emily. "I'm sorry, Connie. It wasn't that I didn't want you to know. There were just some complications at the beginning, and then I had to have an amnio and we were worried about the results. We didn't tell anyone except Mom and Dad and John's parents before that. But the results came back fine and now we're getting all excited." Emily beamed.

"Oh, I'm so glad everything's all right." Connie squeezed her sister's hand. "Congratulations! Boy or girl?"

"We don’t know yet." Emily smiled. "We can't decide whether to find out. I'll show you the ultrasound pictures later. I just had a checkup a couple of days ago."

"This is so great." Connie hugged Emily again. "I can't believe I'll be an aunt!"

"Will Simon be an uncle?" Emily teased.

"Well, honorary, I guess." Connie looked at her, puzzled. "What do you mean?"

"Sweetie, I'm the one who's supposed to be a little slow these days." Emily winked at her sister. "Mom told me about you and Simon—and it's about time, I say. You guys have danced around it for years. I'm glad you finally got together."

"Oh." Connie hadn't told Emily about the arrangement. At the moment, they were alone, but she could hear Simon and her parents outside. Emily's husband must have run an errand for their mom, as Connie hadn't seen him or their car. "The thing is—" Connie started, but before she could continue, her parents and Simon came in the house.

"Where's my mouse?" Their father's voice boomed. Edward Davetsky was a large man who put one in mind of Santa Claus, despite looking nothing like the traditional images. He was tall and lean but it was his spirit, Connie thought, that brought Father Christmas to mind. He called Connie his mouse because she'd been so small when she was born.

"In here, Grampa," she teased. She stood up and ran back into the foyer, Emily following more slowly. Her parents stood there, with Simon behind them.

"Well, come on, hug your old man," he instructed with a grin. Connie did, tightly. She missed her parents, and it was especially acute around holidays.

"It's good to see you, hon," said her mother.

The girls looked like an exact cross between their parents. Black hair from their father, green eyes from their mother, and height fixed in the middle.

"You, too, Mom," Connie said. Her mother smiled and held her arms open. Connie hugged her and stepped back next to Simon.

"Wow, Emily!" Simon grinned. "Look at you. How did you get that basketball to stay put under that shirt?"

Emily came over and hit him on the arm, then gave him a quick hug. "Double-sided adhesive tape, nosy. How else?"

Simon laughed. "Seriously, congratulations!" He put an arm around Connie's waist.

"Thanks," said Emily. She glanced at Connie, who looked a little uncomfortable. Emily wondered if she wasn't comfortable with affection in public. She smiled to herself. Simon would be good for Connie.

"Now, let's get these bags up to your room and then you can help me with dinner," said Lydia.

"How was the trip?" her father asked, grabbing one suitcase. Simon grabbed another one and a smaller travel bag. They started up the stairs in a line, Emily remaining behind when her cell phone rang.

"Good, thanks," said Simon.

Connie nodded in agreement. "We left early and there was hardly any traffic. I guess everyone did all their driving yesterday."

Connie and Simon had decided to leave early Thanksgiving morning, as they were so tired from work and didn't want to fight the onslaught of holiday travelers. It had worked out well. They'd managed to leave before eight, stopped once for restrooms and food, and had arrived before one o'clock.

"You made good time," said her mother. "Dinner will be around four. I've invited Sophia, from down the street."

"Oh, that's nice." Connie dropped her bag on a chair in the bedroom. "I haven't seen her for ages. How's Ben?"

"Ben will be here, too," her father said.

"I thought Ben was overseas," Connie said. "The last I heard his unit had deployed to Iraq."

"He was injured," said Lydia.

"What happened?" Connie asked. "Is he all right?"

"He is," her mother assured her. "But he had to be discharged. His unit was ambushed."

Connie glanced from her mother and then to her father, looking for more details.

"He lost an arm, Connie," her father said. "It was an IED. Otherwise he's fine, and he's bearing it very well. Insists on being called 'Lefty,' actually."

Connie giggled. That sounded like something Ben would do.

"You'll like Ben," she said to Simon, who had laid his suitcase on a small table by the bed. "He's a lot of fun."

"I'm looking forward to meeting him," Simon said.

So far it was all going well. Lydia hadn't said anything to hurt Connie's feelings, the ride had gone well, and he was glad to have a change of scenery. With an early dinner, perhaps he'd be able to steal Connie away before it grew too late. He supposed he could wait until tomorrow, but wanted to talk to her sooner.

x-x-x-x

Connie had been right, Simon thought. Ben was a nice guy, and they had a mock serious argument on the merits of the Mets versus the Yankees, and then about the National and American Leagues in general.

Dinner was a lot more comfortable than it would have been with his family, Simon reflected. Especially with whatever disagreement he was having with his brother. He wasn't sure what had started it. Politics, probably, he decided. He and Jason were frequently opposite on issues, and although Simon tried not to talk about it too much, sometimes he couldn't help it.

Jason tended to take a difference of opinion as a personal offence.

Presumably Simon had questioned Jason's position on something, and Jason had responded by ceasing communication. He got over it, but Simon had learned the best thing to do was apologize—which he had—and then wait for Jason. Ah, family, he thought, all dysfunctional in their own way, like Tolstoy said.

The only thing wrong with dinner was that Lydia took any opportunity to get Ben and Connie talking together. That had made Simon not a little jealous, although he didn't say anything. Still, he thought it was rude, to be encouraging someone's girlfriend to pay attention to another man when her boyfriend was right there. After all, Simon thought, she doesn't know we're pretending.

Connie and Ben noticed it, too. They rolled their eyes and chatted when directed, but would soon fall back to previous conversations, Ben with Connie's father, and Connie with Emily. Does Lydia think I shouldn't be with Connie? Simon wondered. Had Ben and Connie ever been an item? He didn’t think so; Connie never mentioned it, and he was sure she would have. Simon tried to ignore it as he talked Connie's father and Emily's husband, John.

After the eating was done and most of the dishes cleared away, Sophia and Ben said their good-byes. Simon felt his heart rate speed up as he began to figure out how to pry Connie away for a talk. His hopes were somewhat dashed when Lydia asked Connie and Emily to go with her for a short visit to another neighbor down the street.

"The poor Fishburns," Lydia said. "He fell and hurt himself, although thank heavens he didn't break a hip. But he needs a walker for the moment, and when her arthritis acts up, she can barely hold a cup of water. Come with me, girls, and help me take them some leftovers, will you?"

"Sure, Mom," said Connie. She grabbed the opportunity to postpone talking to Simon. It was silly, she knew, but her nerves were getting the better of her. The women packed some turkey and side dishes into some plastic containers and put them in a cooler to take down.

"I'll carry it." Connie teased Emily, "You shouldn't carry anything heavy in your condition."

"Oh, don’t you start," groaned Emily. "If John had his way, I'd be on bed rest."

"Don’t knock it," said her husband. "I'd stay with you." He came over and put his arms around her, nuzzling her neck. Connie quashed a pang of jealousy.

"I'll be back soon," she said to Simon, and gave him a shy kiss. She'd never kissed him in front of anyone else.

"I'll be here. I'm going to clean the table with John and your dad when we play poker." He gave her a quick squeeze, wishing he had time for more.

"Ha," said Emily. "Where were you when we really had to clean the table?"

The women set off for the Fishburns'. Connie and Emily were very fond of them. They had been surrogate grandparents to every kid on the block while the girls were growing up. After a bit, Emily proposed that she and Connie return while Lydia visited for a while longer, saying she was tired. Connie suspected Emily was using the pregnancy as an excuse to get her alone. She was right.

Emily grabbed her sister's arm as they started walking. "Okay, Connie, what's going on?"

"What do you mean?"

"You started to say something earlier, when I remarked about you and Simon. What was it?"

Connie sighed. "It's going to sound silly, but we're just . . . pretending."

Emily stopped and stared at her. "What are you talking about?"

"I talked to Mom about three weeks ago." Connie resumed walking. "She was pushing me about the last guy I saw, his name was Ron." She told Emily what Ron had said, and Emily's eyes narrowed.

"Jerk."

"Yep." Connie nodded in absent agreement. "Too bad I never see it soon enough." She continued before her sister could interrupt. "Anyway, Simon and I were talking about the holiday, and I said he should pretend to be my boyfriend, to get Mom off my back for a while. I was kidding, I swear!" She held her hands up to ward off protests. "Honestly, Em, I didn't mean it. But then Simon said he'd do it and then . . . well, here we are." She shrugged and looked away.

"It sounds nuts," Emily said, "but there's more, right? You sound like there's more." Like Simon, she knew the signs when Connie was trying to avoid a subject. "Come on, tell me."

Connie sighed and kicked a rock on the sidewalk. "It was going fine. We were 'practicing.' Simon called it 'rehearsing.' We went on dates and acted like a real couple. Then a few nights ago, I was afraid I was going to have a nightmare." She described Simon's offer to sleep together, and what had almost happened, in broad strokes.

"You're adults, you know." Emily kept Connie walking past their house. This was a conversation in need of more distance. "There's nothing wrong with what you did."

"I know. It's just . . . well, I guess it's two things. First, I freaked out about my leg."

"You have to let that go," Emily interrupted. "Simon is not the type of guy to care about that."

"Yeah, I know. He even said so. That's totally on me. But the other thing is . . . ." She swallowed. "I love him, Em. This whole time, it's been fun and killing me at the same time. I know I need to tell him, but I'm so afraid he doesn't feel the same, and then everything will change. He's been my best friend for ages. What do I do?"

"You tell him." Emily was never one for hemming and hawing over an issue. She looked at something, saw a course of action, and took it. "You have to take the chance, Connie. It's stupid not to." They stopped and she studied her sister, seeing the full extent of Connie's apprehension for the first time. "Besides," Emily continued, "I don't think you have anything to worry about."

"Why not?"

Emily laughed. "I may be pregnant, but I'm not blind, Connie. Simon's got it bad for you, he has for a while. I saw the way he looked at you. That's not someone pretending."

"You really think so?"

"I know it's hard." Emily put an arm around Connie's shoulders. "I know you're afraid. But you have to try. I really, really think it will work out for you. You just have to take the chance. Talk to him. Soon. Tonight if you can."

"I want to." Connie gave her sister a tentative grin. "Thanks, sis. Let's go see if I can tear him away from the poker game."

"Are you kidding?" Emily asked, turning back around so they could walk to the house. "John will mop up with him. Simon won't know what happened."