Sleepwalker Wolf

Clayton Caldwell

Valery

We wake far too early the next morning and get back on the road. I suspect Trav didn't get a wink of sleep. He's been quiet since last night, his hand squeezing my thigh periodically as we drive. I can see the tension in his shoulders and the pinch between his brows. Guilt washes over me, like it's somehow my fault something might be wrong with the baby, like my worst nightmare has been realized and I'm ruining their life before they're even here. Logically I know that isn't true, but my heart is having a hard time catching up.

            The drive is long, quiet, and full of tension. We don't have to stop much because the baby seems to have decided I have enough to worry about, so I don't have to vomit today, but I do have to pee like a racehorse. It seems the baby has decided to take up residence directly on top of my bladder. I've been increasingly uncomfortable, my boobs so sore even my nipples ache, so tired I spend most of the drive dozing, and my emotions swing like a pendulum between wanting to cry my eyes out and so mad I could spit fire. I stew quietly in my hormone induced hysteria so I don't accidentally take any of it out on Trav because I'm mad I've been forced all the way to Southern California instead of at home in bed where Sandy can take care of me.

            Our first stop was going to be a hotel, but instead we went straight to our best bet at finding where my mother could be. The lab where her husband works is intimidating and likely won't disclose even a piece of information on any employees, but there might be someone around we can find. And if need be, we can wait to see him leaving and follow him home.

            We park on the street not far from the lab and walk to stand in front of it. As I suspected, you have to scan an employee ID to enter the building. We stand outside for a moment, staring up at the concrete building. With no way to enter and no one around, we'll just have to wait. Deciding it's best not to stand in the street like a vagrant, I look around for somewhere to sit. There's a small café across the street, the smell of coffee, flour, and butter wafting from it like a welcome summer breeze.

            Taking Trav's hand, I pull him carefully across the street and into the café. There's only a couple of people inside sitting at tables and drinking coffee. It has a modern design, all stainless steel and dark wood. It's nice but makes me feel out of place in yoga pants and a loose tank top. A single barista stands behind the counter looking bored.

            "Go sit and I'll get us something for while we wait, okay?" Trav offers, gently nudging me over to the tables.

            I sit at a table close to the big glass windows so we can keep an eye on the lab across the street. My body feels heavy in the seat, anxiety gnawing at my insides. All I want to do is go home to my bed, bury myself under the comforter, and pretend the world doesn't exist. Today I might finally meet the woman who gave birth to me, the woman who abandoned me, and I'll finally know why. And I'm terrified. What if it shatters me? What if I crumble?

            Then Trav sets a mug of hot chocolate and a buttery Danish in front of me, and I look up at him. He's here, if I fall apart, he'll glue all my little pieces together again with love and determination. His chocolate curls are extra mussed today, the heat and hotel shampoo causing them to frizz. There are dark circles forming under his sky-blue eyes and guilt churns in my stomach. I can't turn back, but I hate that I'm putting him through this.

            "I love you."

            Trav looks a little surprised at my sudden proclamation, but just smiles, those cursed dimples puckering, and replies, "I love you too, sweetness."

            We sit together for over an hour, sipping our drinks and glancing over at the lab. Eventually I grow tired of it and almost offer to just start driving home now when the door to the café opens. Trav's eyes glance over my shoulder briefly, only to do a double take and pat my hand.