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I didn’t ask but I’m sure you’re going to tell me anyway.

“Wilbur.”

“Like the pig?” I scrunch my nose, undoubtedly looking like the pig fromCharlotte’s Webshe apparently wants me to name my son after.

“There are plenty of others named Wilbur that have nothing to do with a pig,” she states firmly, not at all offended by my response. “It’s a lovely name.”

I’m sure it is, but not for my son it isn’t.

“I’ll consider it. Add it to the list.”Of names I will absolutelynotchoose.

“Wonderful. You know I know a lot of names, thanks to all my reading. I can make a list for you as well. Might have a few options on it you might not have thought of.”

I’m sure all of her choices will be ones I haven’t thought of, nor want, but it’s hard to say no to her. She looks so excited to have something to do.

“That would be great Mrs. Niedermeyer. I look forward to reading it.”

“Fantastic. I’ll get started on it right now!”

She hugs the books I just delivered to her chest and bounds back into her house, waving animatedly as she shuts the door behind her. That is going to be one long list, and she’s going to be sadly disappointed when I choose a name not on it.

I let out a long heavy sigh through my nose and make my way back to my parked bike in her driveway.

What is it about a woman having a baby on her own that makes everyone think they have to butt in and help out? Not that I don’t appreciate the help from some people, but having to deal with everyone I speak to trying to insert themselves or their expertise is exhausting.

I pull a plastic bag of pickle bites out of my pocket and munch on a few standing next to my bike. I’m pretty much always hungry and pickles are always a craving. I basically eat them all day long and always want more.

“How about I just name you Pickle?” I ask my stomach. “Seems appropriate since that’s all you ever seem to want to eat.”

My little pickle decides to give me a swift kick to my kidneys in response.

“Is that a yes or a no?” I chuckle, rubbing at the spot he just kicked.

“Do you think they’ll be just as nosey after your born? I hope not. Probably will be though. Everyone has their opinion on things. Vaccinations, diets, organic soaps, medicines, toys,punishments.” I heave another sigh, this one accompanied with a low groan. “Do you think it’s too late to become a hermit and live in a cabin in the mountains?”

This time he doesn’t answer with a kick, just bubbly gas. Oh the joys I experience while pregnant. Uncontrollable crying and farting. Probably a good thing Warren isn’t here. All the noises, fluids, smells and unknown substances that my body produces these days is embarrassing.

I look out from Mrs. Niedermeyer’s driveway, watching the fluffy white clouds roll by and the sway of the once again greening trees in the breeze. It’s so beautiful here. The entire reason most people live here in the first place. The fresh air and nature.

I mean I know we’re basically disconnected from the rest of the lower forty-eight, or how we refer to the rest of America. We’re different up here on our own. Not as mainstreamed into everything, but we like it that way. I like it that way. I can only hope my son does too and doesn’t one day decide he wants to leave like his father did. Though I would never stop him, just like I didn’t stop Warren. Some people’s wanderlust is too great to suppress. Others like me don’t even have any.

There are so many unknowns in my future. The one known is that I will love my son, and I will not let him be treated like Warren was. He’ll have a happy childhood, just like I did, and like Warren deserved.

“Guess we should get going huh?” I ask to my stomach, rubbing it gently in small circles. “One more delivery to make before we go back to the shop. Then I can get you something more than pickle bites.”

This time he kicks right where my hand rests on my stomach and I smile. We’ll be alright. No matter what.

Chapter 16: Warren

And my future baby mama

The city growing in the distance is a familiar shape. So familiar I instantly feel calmer the closer I get. Returning to Homer in the past used to be filled with trepidation and depression. Going out to sea is what settled my nerves. The open water with no boundaries and no rules. I could be who I wanted and do what I wanted out at sea. It was land that always made my skin itch.

Now it’s the other way around. I’ve been unsettled and twitchy for months out on the sea, but seeing Homer, knowing how close she is, makes it all go away. My heart stops pounding unsteadily and the storm inside settles to a calming breeze.

Sailors say the sea is their first love, their true love. The one they always return to and that stirs in their hearts when they’re not on it. I always thought that was me. A sailor through and through. Yet I can’t wait to get my feet back on solid ground and run directly to Bambi. I suppose being away showed me what I really wanted. What I didn’t even realize was a possibility.

It was always being at sea on my boat that was the dream. That was what was going to be my life, my love. The lump in my throat and fluttering of butterflies in my chest seems to think otherwise as I think of my family waiting on that land.