Not Quite Perfect
Page 2
“Want some tea?” Mary asked, knowing Dakota’s preference.
She released a moan. “God no. Can’t stand it this month.”
Mary laughed and thumbed the pink box of doughnuts on the counter. “Refined sugar?”
Dakota offered an enthusiastic nod.
Laughing, Mary placed a maple glazed on a napkin and brought it to her friend, who sat on a cushioned kitchen chair. “I’m going to love rubbing this in six months from now when you’re past all this stuff.”
Dakota bit into her doughnut with her eyes rolling into the back of her head. She chased a bit of sugar with her tongue before offering a comment. “Junior is bound to be a sugar-holic.”
“That’s crazy talk.”
“Has to be some kind of explanation.”
Dakota didn’t eat refined sugar, or a ton of processed food, before she was knocked up. The switch had tossed Mary for a loop when she realized she could explore the world of fast food with her friend for the first time.
Dakota bit into her doughnut again and shifted in the chair with a hand to her belly. “This has been great and all . . . but I’m about done having my ribs kicked.”
“Junior will come when they’re done.”
She looked down and scolded her unborn child. “You’re done! Let’s get on with it . . . shall we? Team. Team effort.”
Mary loved the misplaced logic.
Dakota laughed at herself and glanced up. “Why are you here again?”
Mary explained about her plumbing issue before launching into the story of the proverbial plumbing crack that wouldn’t stop winking at her while she was standing by.
“Roots?”
“That’s what he told me.”
“Sounds expensive.”
“I just want my toilet to flush . . . call me crazy.”
“You have a second bathroom,” Dakota reminded her.
“Yeah, but it’s slowing down, too. If I don’t fix it, I might be walking over here all the time when I need to go.”
“You’re here all the time anyway.”
A tiny, transient sense of insecurity nibbled at Mary’s psyche. She purposely, forcefully, pushed it away. “Is Walt working?” The question was rhetorical.
Dakota answered with a nod. “He wanted to cut his shift today.”
Mary glanced up from her task. “Why?”
“Says the baby dropped.”
From where Mary stood, the baby hadn’t done anything but push Dakota’s belly further into next week. “Dropped?”
“Yeah . . . I don’t get it either. Junior is still baking. I think I’d know if they were going to make an appearance before Walt does.”
Mary stopped staring at her best friend’s stomach and noticed the ripples on the surface of the coffee in her cup.
“I’m only twenty minutes away at any given time if Walt’s at the hospital.”
Dakota shifted positions again. “I know, hon . . . I appreciate it.”
Dakota was the closest thing Mary had to a sister, and they’d only known each other for just over a half a dozen years. They’d connected because they were neighbors and cemented their friendship when they realized how alike they were. Dakota was completely OCD when it came to prepping for the apocalypse, or the more likely event of a nasty earthquake . . . and Mary was obsessive about analyzing every person who crossed her path. It helped that Dakota was a writer and tended to study people without realizing it. She’d often turn to Mary when they were in a restaurant and point out a habit the waiter displayed . . . or a customer with an unusual tic. People watching was a shared pastime between a psychologist and a romance novelist.
“What’s on your agenda today?” Dakota asked, her mouth twisting as she attempted to get comfortable and obviously failed.
“I have a client at one and another at three.” Mary felt her face contorting to mimic her friend’s. “You look miserable.”
Dakota huffed out a breath and pushed off the stool. “I am. And I need to pee. Again!”
Mary chucked as Dakota heaved her pregnant belly, along with the rest of her, off the stool and rounded the corner. The sound of her friend walking up the stairs had Mary shouting, “You have a bathroom downstairs.”
“This is the only exercise I’m getting these days.”
Mary opened her mouth to argue and snapped it closed.
With the squeak of the floor above her for company, Mary moved around the kitchen island to look out at the backyard. It looked a lot like hers, only with more flowers. It was a postage stamp, like most of those in Orange County. Add the fact that they were in a townhouse condominium development, and that yard became even smaller, bumped up to the attached condo on one side. Mary knew it was only a matter of time before Dakota and Walt . . . along with Junior, moved to a bigger place.
Just the thought of her best friend moving away left her empty inside.
She allowed herself a half second of self-pity before shaking away the cloud that had started to form over her head.
Hearing the sound of a toilet flushing, Mary forced herself to smile. If Dakota saw her staring out the back window with poor me written all over her face, she’d put her friend in an awkward place. The last thing Mary wanted was to dampen Dakota’s joy at being a new wife and soon-to-be mom.
“You know, Mary . . .” Dakota called from the stairs.
Mary started to move around the dividing wall from the kitchen to the living room when Dakota yelled.
She released a moan. “God no. Can’t stand it this month.”
Mary laughed and thumbed the pink box of doughnuts on the counter. “Refined sugar?”
Dakota offered an enthusiastic nod.
Laughing, Mary placed a maple glazed on a napkin and brought it to her friend, who sat on a cushioned kitchen chair. “I’m going to love rubbing this in six months from now when you’re past all this stuff.”
Dakota bit into her doughnut with her eyes rolling into the back of her head. She chased a bit of sugar with her tongue before offering a comment. “Junior is bound to be a sugar-holic.”
“That’s crazy talk.”
“Has to be some kind of explanation.”
Dakota didn’t eat refined sugar, or a ton of processed food, before she was knocked up. The switch had tossed Mary for a loop when she realized she could explore the world of fast food with her friend for the first time.
Dakota bit into her doughnut again and shifted in the chair with a hand to her belly. “This has been great and all . . . but I’m about done having my ribs kicked.”
“Junior will come when they’re done.”
She looked down and scolded her unborn child. “You’re done! Let’s get on with it . . . shall we? Team. Team effort.”
Mary loved the misplaced logic.
Dakota laughed at herself and glanced up. “Why are you here again?”
Mary explained about her plumbing issue before launching into the story of the proverbial plumbing crack that wouldn’t stop winking at her while she was standing by.
“Roots?”
“That’s what he told me.”
“Sounds expensive.”
“I just want my toilet to flush . . . call me crazy.”
“You have a second bathroom,” Dakota reminded her.
“Yeah, but it’s slowing down, too. If I don’t fix it, I might be walking over here all the time when I need to go.”
“You’re here all the time anyway.”
A tiny, transient sense of insecurity nibbled at Mary’s psyche. She purposely, forcefully, pushed it away. “Is Walt working?” The question was rhetorical.
Dakota answered with a nod. “He wanted to cut his shift today.”
Mary glanced up from her task. “Why?”
“Says the baby dropped.”
From where Mary stood, the baby hadn’t done anything but push Dakota’s belly further into next week. “Dropped?”
“Yeah . . . I don’t get it either. Junior is still baking. I think I’d know if they were going to make an appearance before Walt does.”
Mary stopped staring at her best friend’s stomach and noticed the ripples on the surface of the coffee in her cup.
“I’m only twenty minutes away at any given time if Walt’s at the hospital.”
Dakota shifted positions again. “I know, hon . . . I appreciate it.”
Dakota was the closest thing Mary had to a sister, and they’d only known each other for just over a half a dozen years. They’d connected because they were neighbors and cemented their friendship when they realized how alike they were. Dakota was completely OCD when it came to prepping for the apocalypse, or the more likely event of a nasty earthquake . . . and Mary was obsessive about analyzing every person who crossed her path. It helped that Dakota was a writer and tended to study people without realizing it. She’d often turn to Mary when they were in a restaurant and point out a habit the waiter displayed . . . or a customer with an unusual tic. People watching was a shared pastime between a psychologist and a romance novelist.
“What’s on your agenda today?” Dakota asked, her mouth twisting as she attempted to get comfortable and obviously failed.
“I have a client at one and another at three.” Mary felt her face contorting to mimic her friend’s. “You look miserable.”
Dakota huffed out a breath and pushed off the stool. “I am. And I need to pee. Again!”
Mary chucked as Dakota heaved her pregnant belly, along with the rest of her, off the stool and rounded the corner. The sound of her friend walking up the stairs had Mary shouting, “You have a bathroom downstairs.”
“This is the only exercise I’m getting these days.”
Mary opened her mouth to argue and snapped it closed.
With the squeak of the floor above her for company, Mary moved around the kitchen island to look out at the backyard. It looked a lot like hers, only with more flowers. It was a postage stamp, like most of those in Orange County. Add the fact that they were in a townhouse condominium development, and that yard became even smaller, bumped up to the attached condo on one side. Mary knew it was only a matter of time before Dakota and Walt . . . along with Junior, moved to a bigger place.
Just the thought of her best friend moving away left her empty inside.
She allowed herself a half second of self-pity before shaking away the cloud that had started to form over her head.
Hearing the sound of a toilet flushing, Mary forced herself to smile. If Dakota saw her staring out the back window with poor me written all over her face, she’d put her friend in an awkward place. The last thing Mary wanted was to dampen Dakota’s joy at being a new wife and soon-to-be mom.
“You know, Mary . . .” Dakota called from the stairs.
Mary started to move around the dividing wall from the kitchen to the living room when Dakota yelled.
