Page 108 of Call You Mine
My breaths come in more and more shallow—I somehow manage to continue the conversation with Patricia enough for her not to know I’m falling apart here on the other end. When we say our goodbyes, my lungs are burning with the need for a full breath.
If this whole marriage was supposed to be fake—why does the thought of ending feel so real?
“Go, Georgie!” Emerson cups her hands around her mouth, cheering as Georgie blocks another attempt at the goal, her dirty blonde hair braided back out of her face, her light blue jersey sticking out among the rest of the navy jerseys that surround her.
Her smile is as bright as her teammates gather around her, offering her high fives and wide grins before the referee blows the whistle to get the next play started. Jack claps as Anderson lets out a loud whoop over our cheering.
My phone buzzes in my pocket, and I find Phoebe andJasmine both responding in our group chat. I texted them after Patricia called with our court date, and they both are ecstatic to hear that Georgie will be with me, permanently.
I’ve been sending them updates since telling them what happened a few days after I picked up Georgie from our mom’s, and I can’t even begin to explain the relief I felt when I sent them this final update about the court date that will make everything official.
“Glad we got good weather for this,” Rumi says to me as she shifts Evee from one hip to the other. We’re standing down by the goal to make sure we can clearly see all of Georgie’s plays, out in the sun rather than under the shade covering the bleachers where the rest of the families are sitting.
“April really can be a hit or miss when it comes to sun,” Emerson adds, as the girls get in position for the next play.
I nod, distracted. I’m trying to focus on Georgie and being present here for her with my friends, but my eyes keep roaming toward Anderson, where he stands next to Jack, as far as they can go. Their feet inches from the white spray-painted field lines. They already got a warning from the ref that they were getting too close to the field, me, Emerson, and Rumi laughing at how seriously the two are taking a U-13 soccer game—Anderson, especially.
His eyes haven’t left Georgie for more than a few seconds, only to look just over his shoulder, meeting my eyes as if he can feel when I look at him.
His strong arms are crossed over his chest, aside from when he takes off his hat to run his fingers through the shaggy waves before pressing the hat back on. He does it every time it looks like the ball is headed Georgie’s way.
“Can you stop eyefucking your husband for two seconds and answer me?” Emerson’s voice catches me off guard, causing me to feel like I was caught with my hand in my pants. I didn’t even realize I was staring at Anderson until Iturned toward Emerson and Rumi to find both of them smirking at me.
“What?” I offer, trying for nonchalance, hoping it doesn’t come off too forced. “Can’t a girl find her husband attractive?”
As I say the words, my stomach flips. I’ve found myself using any excuse to refer to Anderson as my husband, and it’s a habit I already know I’m going to have a hard time breaking.
Emerson rolls her eyes as Rumi shakes her head, smiling down at Evee as she claps her hands as the whistle blows, signaling half-time for the girls.
Anderson turns and closes the distance between us. “I’m going to go make sure Georgie has enough water. Do you need anything?”
His thoughtfulness will never get old, his attentiveness to not only me but also Georgie makes my heart clench almost uncomfortably.
“I’m okay,” I answer, rolling my lips together to not only hide the they want to turn up—also to stop myself from blurting outI’m pregnant, the way I’ve wanted to do since getting here and immediately finding him walking Georgie toward the field, her soccer bag hung over one shoulder and a cooler in his hand as the two of them walked through the grass.
When I’m alone, the thought of Anderson and the possibility of a future with him has me spiraling, counting until my mind goes numb. Doing anything and everything to make my surroundings perfect, finding order and that “just right” feeling so I can have a moment of relief in the form of clarity within my own mind.
But when I’m with him, it’s like all of that gets pushed to the back of my mind—still there but much softer, easier to ignore.
I talked about it in therapy—my therapist knows the samestory that we told Rumi and Emerson, and she offered that Anderson might be a safe, grounding presence for me, and that can often reduce anxiety or help me focus on the moment at hand, rather than the obsessive fear of whatever I’m worried is coming for me.
The more I’ve thought about Anderson, the more I see him as a supportive partner. The way he so easily agreed to help me, the way he is with Georgie, the way he makes me forget what life was like before him.
His patience, his thoughtfulness, his kindness.
It feels too good to be true, like I’m holding still just before the inevitable crash.
I exist in a world of uncertainty, constantly trying to make sense of it.
But it’s like part of me knows that our time together is limited, and I want to enjoy all the moments I can with him, not lose myself in my mind during the borrowed time we do have.
He’s becoming a piece of me I wish I didn’t need.
And if this is all supposed to be fake. Temporary. Pretend.
Why is it that he’s becoming the clarity to my insanity?
Anderson gives me a nod, and I notice the way he closes his fists, like he wants to reach for me but stops himself. He lingers for a moment, his eyes skating to Emerson and Rumi, who I feel are watching us intently, not even pretending not to.
