JOHN

There are a hundred ways to look at any one thing but facts are always facts. Number one; I'm worried about my wife, worried about her pregnancy and worried about the baby. Yeah, yeah. Tests are fine, blood pressure perfect and everyone's healthy…but I'm still worried. Fact number two, the way Riles and I bicker and fight, people are either running away from us or making stupid attempts at being referee for the day. It's futile, foolish and a waste of energy all the way around. I am simply not gonna change.

Enter…Siggie. Like I really needed this guy to tell me that my fears are unfounded and based on a childhood experience of losing Mom. And I'm thinking, am I the only person who'd been though it? Or just the only one letting a shrink tell me I'm outta hand? I mean what's so fucking wrong with making sure my very pregnant wife rests or eats? What the hell kinda husband doesn't do that kinda thing? But I've been trying; curbing my thoughts before they leap out of my mouth, refocusing my energy…and that, by the way seemed to actually be working. Gives me headaches, but it works.

It was late, well past two when I crawled into bed last night.

"What the hell are you doing on that computer?" Huffed my wife, poor thing rolling like a downed weeble, looking for a comfortable position.

"It's a secret, baby. Go back to sleep."

"Who can sleep with your laptop clacking away 'til two AM?"

"Riles, shut up, okay? I'm asking you, let this go. Please."

She sat up, turned and switched on the lamp…and I groaned. This wasn't good. First off, I was fucking tired, second off; I just wasn't in the mood for one of her irrational tirades. I grunted up, leaned my back against the headboard and rubbed my eyes. "What?" I said as nicely as I could.

"John, I'm worried about you."

"Huh?" Man, I glared. What the fuck? But I could see it in her eyes. She was scared. Now what the hell was that all about?

"Can I ask you a question?" Her voice was so light, so small that the wave of not-so-good-over-protectiveness was threatening to take over. Shake it off, ay. God sakes, shake it off.

"Sure."

"John, why did you start going to see Doctor Fuller?"

"Huh?" Do women lose brain cells during pregnancy? "I see Siggie 'cause you asked me to see him."

"No, John please," that's when I saw the tears in her eyes. "I really need to know why you started going. But even more than that, I need to understand why you're still seeing him. And do not say it's because I'm driving you crazy."

I grinned. "Truth? You're are one hell of an emotional roller coaster ride, kid. Siggie can't change who I am, but maybe he can change the way I deal with…stuff."

"You mean me, right?" she sniffled. "I know, I know. I swear, I really don't want to be arguing with you all the time. Maybe I'm the one who should be seeing a shrink…or maybe…maybe we need marriage counseling."

Man, my gut clenched but I answered cool as I could. "We have marriage problems? I thought you just had an over-attentive, over-protective and over-controlling husband and I was trying to exorcise that demon to make the remainder of your…confinement…a little easier for you."

She caught my cynical sarcasm, even smiled a little. "So, what you're saying is that you're doing this for me, to make things easier for me, right? Isn't that just feeding into your over-attentive, over-protective, over-controlling nature?"

"Yes it is. Now can we go to sleep?"

"No. John, is he helping you at all? I mean, do you really think there's something you need Dr. Fuller to help you through…or are you just doing this to appease me?"

"I'm doing it to appease you," I teased and kissed her neck. "And…damn." The next thought almost choked me; it was such a fucking shocking surprise.

"And what?" Her small hand was on my face and those dark eyes were searching mine.

I drew in a breath, let it out slow. Holy fuck, talk about revelations. "Yes, he's helping me…I just didn't realize it until this minute."

We slept holding each other tight. She didn't ask and I didn't elaborate. It has a lot to do with losing Mom, it has to do with being in the dark about it until it was too late to sufficiently deal with it….but it has to do with more. Something I suddenly remembered clear as crystal.

The day Mom died, I was sitting with my brother and dad in the hospital room. That smell, fuck I'll never forget that smell. Hospital cleanliness and death. No one on that floor was going home ever again. I'd overhead someone in the hall say that. I was fucking twelve years old; it wasn't something I'd ever imagined possible.

Mom had fought hard, so fucking hard. Whatever they told her to do, she willingly put herself through. The cancer had eaten her from her guts out, taken her womb, her breasts and now her life. Lying on that bed, tubes everywhere, needles and drips and that smell all around, I remember thinking they had to be wrong. Not my mom, ay?

I was so scared; I remember I hadn't gone near her once since they told me how serious it all was. Everyday after school, Jacques would take me on the bus to that hospital and we'd sit there with dad. He was almost dead himself, silent, distant, hardly ever even acknowledging that his sons were there. At first, when she was still well enough to raise the bed to sit, she'd ask me, beg me to come and hug her. I wouldn't, I couldn't.

"It's okay, honey," she'd smile. "It's okay."

Three weeks it went on. Three long, terrible weeks of watching her deteriorate, fade like an old black and white photo. Me, so far away I'd often be pressed against the wall. But that day I remember how hard it hit me, the fact that she was so courageous. I could muster up some courage too, couldn't I? I squared my shoulders and walked right up beside her. I lightly ran a finger along her hand. Jesus, her flesh was already cold, already going grey. Her whole body seemed to have sunken into itself, and for a minute I wondered if it really was my mom. But her eyes slowly opened and she turned to me.

Man, I was just a kid. All elbows and knees, scrawny, too much wild hair falling into my eyes. She actually smiled, then as she watched me, I saw it. I really saw it.

See, it isn't that I'm worried about Riles because I'm afraid I can't handle it if things go bad. It isn't that I'm terrified that she'll suffer or even die, God forbid. It's something else completely.

See, when my mother looked at me, her eyes told me everything. What I saw was her fear. Her realization that she was dying. Her loss of me and dad and my brothers. What's really freaking me out is the same thing that tore me apart that day in the hospital. My mother was dying and I couldn't stop it. Not because I was just a kid, not because I didn't love her enough or hadn't been a good son…I couldn't stop it because it just fucking couldn't be stopped.

"So," I told Siggie this afternoon. "I figured it out. I'm afraid of seeing Riley's fear…and you know what? It's there. I know I can't hold it at bay, I know I can't stop it. I can see that all the over-protective shit was an attempt to do that but guess what…it's not possible. Doc, Riley's scared. That's why she's so nuts, so over emotional and on edge all the time. And because she's scared…I'm even more afraid."

"What do you think you can do with this knowledge, John?"

I shrugged. "I can love her. Put up with her manic behavior and control my temper. But that's all I can do. That…and make sure she knows I'm here for her."

"Tell me about your temper," Dr. Fuller crossed his legs, watched me carefully.

"Oh, I got one. My fists have found their way through several walls, believe me. If I keep my head on straight, I won't let the shit get to me, though. I can maybe keep from feeling like she's attacking me."

"Attacking you?" he grinned. "Or counter attacking?"

"Fuck, I hope not. I'd fucking kill anyone who'd hurt her…maybe even myself…just a figure of speech, Doc."

"With this need to protect, to save the ones you love from bad things, and Riley's troubled past, do you think this is why you were originally attracted to her?"

I couldn't help it, laughed right in his face. "Trust me, Doc. She has several other attributes that originally attracted me to her. And she's changed, gotten stronger, better. Like to think I've had something to do with that, you know. Like maybe she knows she's safe. Maybe that's why she loves to go for the jugular?"

"Does she?"

"Sometimes. I'm getting good at asking her…nicely…to back the fuck off, though."

"Good, good. Tell me about your project, how you're redirecting your focus."

"Ah, well. Kinda stupid but I've always been interested in the stock market. I took a chunk of cash and started doing a little e-trading. It's kinda fun, watching everything, trying to figure it all out. Learning a lot, too. Problem is, I get caught up in it sometimes. But if I do it right, before the baby comes, I'll have a nice bundle of money to put aside for him, ay."

I could see Siggie's monumental professionalism drop. "Yeah? How much are you playing with?"

"Fifty grand. Three weeks and I've doubled it…but I lost almost all of it on a stupid long shot I should've avoided. Like I said, I'm learning. Hoping to triple it in the next six weeks. I like to play aggressively, been pretty lucky so far."

"Man, John, you do that and you can be my broker! That's great…but…watch, okay. Not so good substituting one obsession with another. Long as you keep your head on straight and enjoy it, you should do well."

I glanced at the desk clock behind him. My hour was up. Stood and reached out my hand. "Same time next week?"

"You've made a huge breakthrough this week. Tremendous progress, John. Really good work. Tell you what. Why don't you just call me if you need to talk?"

"Really? So I'm normal?"

"Never said that," Siggie chuckled and walked me to the door. "But remember, my door is opened. You call if you need to."

"Yeah, yeah. Will do."

Wasn't until I got into the car that I started to wonder what the fallout from this session was gonna be. Usually I'd be looking for Terry. He's become a really good friend, always good for a pub crawl when I needed someone to blow off steam with. But that was sure changing. He and Bridgid were off to London for a few weeks. Honeymoon and to close out his office, put his flat on the market. Who'd have ever thought things would have evolved this way when he first called to schedule some vacation time in Vermont? Ain't life interesting?

Either way, there was a lot going on. I had my trading. Nat and Jack's wedding was coming up, and of course, our baby was coming in six weeks, give or take a few days. Looked like pub crawls just might be a thing of the past.

When I got home, I found Riley in the tub. Jesus, is there anything more beautiful than a pregnant woman? I leaned against the doorjamb and just watched her. Her head was back, eyes closed. Relaxed, calm…simply gorgeous.

"Hey," she said, grinned and opened her eyes.

"Hey."

"I'd invite you to join me, but I don't think there enough room in the tub."

I went and sat on the floor beside her. Man, she took my breath away. Glowing pink from the hot water, her breasts swollen, her belly, taught and round. I slid my hand along the baby, he rolled under my touch and my heart swelled. I pushed back Riley's damp hair, ran a thumb along her cheek. Didn't say a word. Nothing to say with words anyway, ay? All I wanted to do was look at her just like she was that moment. Enjoy it. Then my stomach growled.

"Let's go downstairs for dinner tonight, baby." And I braced for the argument, expecting something like 'I'm not sick, dammit. I'm pregnant! I can cook, John'. But she simply nodded. Yeah, she was an angel, but sometime in the near future I knew the evil twin would return. Somehow, I wasn't worried about it. Knowing she was afraid, really knowing it, had made me see things a little differently.

We stayed that way a long time, lost in each other, silent. Telling with our eyes all the things we couldn't find the right words for. And for the first time in nearly a year, since before the last disastrous pregnancy, I felt whole. For the first time in almost a year…I felt centered.