Blair Pt. 02

Blair Chapter Two: The Pregnancy

Pregnancy seemed to suit Blair. She even glowed... a little, not vibrantly, but expectantly. Whether this was standard for a thirty-five-year-old woman carrying twins, I cannot say, but she seemed hardly inconvenienced. On the other hand, I was tortured by the prospect of fatherhood--that damned uncharted territory signaled the end of my bachelorhood.

I wanted to make a big deal out of losing my perceived freedom, hanging out until closing at the local bars, sitting conspicuously on my stool while the lights came up and the last of the ladies made their way for the door.

Closing time. One last call for alcohol, so finish your whiskey or beer. Closing time. You don't have to go home, but you can't stay here.

Did I ever do so much as make a play for one of them? Who was I kidding? I sat on my ass night after night and watched beautiful people meet and flirt. I watched them come in alone and walk out together.

So, gather up your jackets, move it to the exits, I hope you have found a friend. Closing time. Every new beginning comes from some other beginning's end.

I was socially inept. My ex-girlfriend stated it plainly. "You couldn't talk a prostitute into a thousand-dollar blowjob, Adam. Even if you did, she'd die laughing." God, she was right. I never once picked up a girl in a bar. I never once had a one-night stand. I never once ruined a marriage because I took home some MILF who forgot to erase our sex video that we made in my apartment. My social life was sitting in front of a computer screen and daydreaming about Angie before she left me.

My fear of fatherhood had nothing to do with freedom. I'd been a prisoner to myself since my fiancé dumped me. My fear was about exchanging my shackles, being a prisoner to a responsibility that I was sure I couldn't handle. I was a prisoner to Blair and her lofty expectations. I was a prisoner to duty.

When I was eighteen, I thought I'd be a Navy Seal. I had all sorts of hero shit going on in my head. One day, I told my old man I was signing up to join the Navy and was ready to put my heart and soul into becoming a Seal. My old man sat me down at the kitchen table.

"I think joining the Navy is a great idea, son, but let go of this idea of becoming a Seal."

I jumped to my feet.

"I was hoping you'd support me in this."

"I am supporting you, Adam. I want you to be realistic, though. You're not Special Forces material."

He knew me better than I knew myself back then, knew I wouldn't last two minutes in a Special Forces training camp. It's all about believing in yourself, and that's where I fall short. I guess he thought he was doing me a favor, protecting me from my bad judgments, but he was pushing me inside myself. I've never taken charge of anything, not even my own life.

Who was I kidding? I wasn't dad material. I considered walking out on Blair but imagined her face, her mouth growing grim around the edges as I explained why I could never be a dad. I could forget my career if ever I became so bold; that was certain.

So, I went to Lamaze classes, held Blair's hand and endured Blair's contempt when I did it wrong, too hard or too soft. I laughed once while squirting ultrasound gel on her belly and saw daggers in her eyes.

We moved in together, but due to my frequent insomnia, we agreed to sleep in separate bedrooms. I was unaccustomed to such spacious living quarters, unaccustomed to walking on wall-to-wall, white Italian tiles. They'd topped the kitchen island with a polished slab of white Cesar stone, above which hung racks of Mauviel copper. A sprawl of La cobalt blue cabinetry surrounded a Chateau series range and more. Every night was a study in opulence. I marched through the beauty in the darkness, marched like a soldier in my sock-covered feet, marched softly and quietly and alone.

I sat down for breakfast one morning with Blair. She told me she'd interviewed several Nanny services and had come to a decision. It was news to me. I asked her what the differences in nanny services could be. She sniffed.

"It's like anything else, Adam; think about it".

"Ok," I said, "So, how did you pick?"

"I made my decision based on several factors: flexibility, availability, and reputation, to name a few. I'll need full-time live-in nannies that are willing to travel. Anastasia and Andrew will be here sooner than you might realize, and I won't have my rest disturbed."

That afternoon, Blair introduced me to Dee, the owner of the service Blair had picked, Dee's Custom Design International Nanny Service. She handed me her card.

Then, she handed us what at first glance appeared to be a dossier on each of the available nannies. All her girls could travel outside the country on short notice. Two nannies, Rebecca and Liz, were based in Thornton, Colorado. Two were in Texas, Tammy and Teresa. All four worked ten-day shifts, providing round-the-clock service. Each was a licensed driver and certified in CPR. While on shift, they would receive a credit card required for the many errands within the scope of their responsibilities.

Two nannies were required for the twenty-four-hour coverage of two children. The price? A whopping eight thousand dollars a week, plus airfare reimbursement. Blair was unphased by the fees. After all, she had her watchdog CPAs in place. Blair studied the nanny folders as I made polite conversation. I noticed her lingering on one of the pages.

"So, this is Tammy. She's quite an attractive young woman. Excuse me, Dee, how old did you say she was?"

"She's nineteen as of yesterday," answered Dee.

"She's the spitting image of Jennifer Lawrence, wouldn't you agree, Adam?"

I nodded. She was striking.

Two months later, Blair's OBGYN gave her a thumbs up, telling her to expect the babies within a week. Teresa and Tammy flew into DIA the following day to prepare for Anastasia and Andrew's arrival. There was much to do, and Dee had suggested we leave the preparations to the nannies as that was a part of their service.

I was more than happy to oblige, knowing less than nothing about the day-to-day existence of babies. I was prepared to step aside and let the experts do their thing. Blair came out of her office, holding her phone to her ear. She signaled me to buzz the security gate, and a couple of minutes later, the elevator doors opened. Tammy stepped out with her luggage in tow.

Oh, God, if only the camera had been able to catch her startling beauty. But she was in the flesh, and I was forced to mask my delight in seeing such a showstopper. I glanced at Blair. It was too late. She was already gazing at me with an expression of disapproval. She shrugged as if to say, what the fuck?

A moment later. Blair took control of the situation with her usual pluck. I quickly took Tammy's luggage to the first-floor guest room where she would have access to the pool and patio, then fell in behind the two ladies as Blair gave her the ten-cent tour of the loft. As advertised, Tammy went straight to work, wasting no time getting around Boulder in a leased BMW X5, assembling the nursery collection and making ready for our two new additions. There was no time to talk or even get to know her.

But at night, my dreams were full of her, dancing barefoot in the luxurious darkness of our magnificent Boulder mansion with her blonde hair tumbling across her incandescent shoulders... a princess swirling between the columns and spinning beneath the archways. A vision of beauty who would meet me in my march; who would lead me to her bedroom; who would ride me on her queen-size mattress until the two of us together soaked the soft, satin sheets with the scent of our surging slickness.

Suddenly, the bright lights would come on in the bar, and she would exit without me in the arms of another. Closing time. An empty morning beaming with the bedlam of a new day's reality. A silent song.

Blair went into labor two days later. I was in for the shock of my life.