Page 39 of Waiting for Her

Blake, one of my best friends since kindergarten, is quiet on the other end of the phone line.

“Now?” No doubt he’s looking at the clock that’s shining after eight pm and wondering what I could possibly be needing from him at this hour. It’s not late by any means, but he knows what my schedule is like this time of year. I’m usually going over my playbook, watching game tape, or hell, any number of things but inviting him over on a weeknight.

“It’s uh, Bri.”

“On my way.”

Twenty minutes later, he’s walking through the front door without knocking, my golden lab Rockford, or Rocky for short, lifts his head, lets out a pathetic whoof, and nestles back into his place on the couch. Which he’stechnicallynot supposed to be sitting on. Yet, here he is. Snuggled up beside me like he knows I need his affection.

“That didn’t take long.”

“Sounded urgent,” he says, raising one eyebrow in my direction.

“Did you know?”

“Know what?”

I gauge his reaction, trying to figure out if he knew about the miscarriage or not.

From his look of confusion, my guess is he didn’t have a clue.

I clear my throat and lean up, letting my arms rest on my knees. Rocky moans like I’m really inconveniencing him.

“She was pregnant,” I blurt out.

He blanches, shock resonating through his features.

“Was.” He states, doesn’t question. He’s always been a perceptive guy. Listens to every word that comes out of his friends’ mouths, never ignores anyone.

“Was,” I confirm.

“When?”

“Oh, you know, she was pregnant about six years ago.”

“And then?”

“Wasn’t.”

“She lost it?” he asks.

“Correct.”

“Shit.”

“That’s about the gist of it.” I lick my lips and watch his reaction.

His hand roughly scrubs over his face. “Shit fuck.”

“More accurate.”

“I think I need to hear a few more details for me to fully understand this.”

I shake my head and huff. “You and me both, man.”

“First question, when did you find out?”

“About two hours ago.”

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