Childless: A Novel (13 page)

“Ooh. Let’s
pop in here,” Angie blurted like a child startled by a candy store. “Their stuff is adorable!”

Julia glanced up at a sign that read
TINY THREADS
.

“Angie,” she protested. “Kevin said to find something for you, not shop for the kids.”

Too late. Her friend had already escaped into the treasury of infant and toddler apparel.

The time had been a gift from their husbands, a pleasant surprise since Julia had assumed she would spend the morning at the house with Angie watching the kids. Ricky still had a sniffle Leah seemed eager to mimic, which had killed their plans to dine at Tommy’s favorite fast-food playland. A major disappointment since, he complained, McDonald’s would soon renovate the space into a “stupid coffee lounge for grown-ups!” Made sense, Julia thought, in light of shifting demographics. But hard on a five-year-old losing his Neverland complete with burgers, shakes, and fries.

“You two go shopping,” Kevin had suggested. “Buy yourself something nice. We can work here just as well as at my office.”

Angie offered an obligatory refusal until Tommy cheered Uncle Troy’s presence as a terrific consolation prize. That’s when she gladly accepted.

Part of Julia liked the idea. Troy needed time with Kevin to discuss problems with the business. But he also loved hanging around the kids. Their exhausting demands seemed to charge rather than deplete her husband’s batteries. Which worried another part of her.

She reluctantly followed Angie into the store, where she was confronted with the pleasing aroma of baby lotion innocence. Julia positioned herself next to a rack of pink newborn outfits and nervously fingered a pair of tiny booties half the size of the socks she had seen Angie drape over Ricky’s pudgy toes. She felt out of place watching Angie scurry from one darling outfit to the next in a continued quest to coordinate Joy and Leah for their upcoming family photo.

Two hours earlier Angie had fled her home in eager anticipation of a morning away from the relentless demands of kids. “I really need the break,” she had said. “I wanted to kiss Kevin when he suggested we go.” No wonder the fifteen-minute drive to the outdoor mall had turned the car into a confession booth where Angie unloaded a series of hesitant complaints.

“This is the fifth week in a row one of the kids has been sick. I can’t remember my last full night of sleep.”

“Kevin tries. But he’s been too busy to notice that I’m drowning.”

“I hate those fund-raising dinners. I still haven’t lost the last ten pounds of baby weight. I gave up trying to keep up with the trophy girlfriends.”

“We got the results last week. Leah isn’t progressing as well as we’d hoped. I cried myself to sleep Thursday night.”

“Confidentially, there were days I hoped Kevin would lose his reelection bid.”

“Some days I feel utterly alone.”

Julia remembered her sister’s warning. “You’ll end up like Angie…wearing frumpy sweat suits while pushing a double stroller through the neighborhood.”

Placing the booties on a nearby display rack, Julia watched Angie move toward the checkout counter. A bit of self-doubt notwithstanding, she was not frumpy in the least. Just a woman needing the kind of pampering a shopping-and-lunch outing might provide; perhaps splurging on a stylish new outfit would make her feel as beautiful as she remained. Yet there she was, cute as a button, standing in line to buy matching dresses for her little girls. How does a woman so eager for a break from Mommyville miss her children only hours after escape?

The sight made Julia aware of her growing unease.

“What do you think?” Angie asked, holding up the purchases.

Anxiety retreated in the glow of her friend’s delight. “Perfect,” she confirmed with a wink.

Julia heard Kevin’s voice coming from Angie’s phone.

“Hi, beautiful. Sure would like to talk to you.” They were the identical words Troy’s voice spoke when he called Julia.

“Is she OK?” Angie asked.

The look on Angie’s face told Julia something had happened back at the house. The fingernail between her friend’s teeth suggested the possibility of something serious.

“We can leave now if—” Angie paused in reaction to an apparent interruption from Kevin.

“Are you sure?” she asked, her face showing signs of uncertain compliance.

“Joy?” Julia asked when Angie ended the call.

“Leah,” she replied with concern.

“Sniffles?”

“Diarrhea.”

The word alone seemed to vanquish any baby lotion smell. Julia frowned at the thought of yet another Mommyville reality she couldn’t imagine herself handling.

“He said she’s in the tub,” Angie explained. “She likes taking a bath to get rid of the yucky feeling.”

“Who doesn’t?” Julia said tepidly.
Does it ever stop
? she wondered.

They spent the next thirty minutes finding distractions from thoughts of the mini-crisis their husbands might mishandle. They found three outfits Julia insisted Angie try, all of them flattering but none of them leading to a purchase.

They decided to enjoy the late-morning sunshine with a stroll toward the food court, where they saw a man proactively cooling lunchtime customers by opening a series of large umbrellas in the outside seating area.

“OK. Time to fess up, girl,” Angie said abruptly, surprising Julia. “What’s bothering you?”

“Bothering me?”

“Yes, you,” she insisted. “I can tell there’s something on your mind.”

“I’m just worried about you,” she lied. “I mean, the last thing you needed was another sick child.”

“Comes with the job,” Angie teased. “Besides, Kevin will muddle through.”

Julia offered a thin smile.

“I upset you with what I said earlier, didn’t I?” Angie continued. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to dump on you like that. I just needed to tell someone what I’m feeling.”

Julia slipped her arm into Angie’s and bumped hips. “Don’t worry about it. I understand.”

She didn’t want to say more. Angie’s guess seemed an easier explanation than the truth. “But it’s not what you said,” she heard herself say.

“No? What then?”

Julia hesitated.
How to tell the mother of four kids that you resent your husband’s push for a baby
?

“It’s Troy,” she began. “He wants more than I’m ready to give.”

Angie stopped, her face seeming to flip through ugly possibilities that didn’t fit what she knew of her husband’s lifelong friend.

“Really? Like what?” she asked blankly. “He acts like he adores you.”

“He does,” Julia admitted with a tint of shame. “He’s been wonderful to me. It’s nothing like that.”

“Then what’s wrong?” Angie pulled them both toward a nearby bench. They sat.

Julia looked away from her friend’s anxious eyes.

“Before we got married we discussed children,” she began. “We agreed we would consider kids after a few years together.”

She paused to watch a final umbrella rise in the distance.

“Troy wants kids now, doesn’t he?” Angie said what Julia couldn’t.

A single confirming nod.

“I’m not surprised. That scares you?”

Another hit, followed by a comforting stillness.

“I know how you feel.”

Julia’s head swung back toward Angie. “You do?”

“Of course I do.” She took Julia’s left hand in her own. “How do you think I felt when I found out I was pregnant with Ricky, that I was going to have a fourth child?”

For some reason Julia hadn’t considered the question until that moment.

“One of my first thoughts was that you’d probably think I’d gone off the deep end!”

The comment prompted a nervous laugh. Then a prick of guilt.

“I’m so sorry,” Julia said. “I must have made it more difficult for you.”

“You and nearly everyone else on the planet. If I hadn’t been thrown into a tailspin over the accusations against Kevin I would have been pretty upset about how you characterized people like me. Or should I say breeders like me.”

The reminder of her feature’s title made Julia blush. “Please forgive me. I know I hurt you and Kevin and I—”

“Stop it,” Angie interrupted. “We’ve been over that ground a dozen times before. You’re forgiven, OK? No more asking.”

“I know, but—”

“Enough,” Angie commanded.

Another single nod.

“I only mention the article because it put into words what I feel when people look at my life, my family.”

“You have a beautiful family.”

Angie smiled. “I think so. But it frightened me when I found out I was pregnant again. Did you know we had just received Leah’s diagnosis a few weeks earlier?”

“It must have been scary.”

“It was, for a few days. But then it became wonderful, just like my other three pregnancies.”

“How?” Julia asked.

“How what?”

“How did it become wonderful? What changed your feelings?”

Angie seemed to wrestle within, as if reaching for words that didn’t exist.

“When did you get past the fear?” Julia pressed further.

The question prompted a smile of realization. “I didn’t.”

“But you said—”

“I didn’t say the fear disappeared. I said it became wonderful.” She looked away, then back as if she had found a cue card on the horizon. “I guess the fear kind of lost itself in the wonder. Like leaning over the railing at Niagara Falls. Does that make sense?”

“I’ve never been.”

“Go. It’s a deafening force rushing over the edge and crashing on the rocks below. When you get close it looks and sounds like a million thunderous explosions per second. The second-most frightening, awe-inspiring experience you’ll ever encounter.”

“Second-most?”

Angie smiled silently while raising a single eyebrow.

Julia understood. “Oh, right.”

“It’s OK to be afraid, Julia.”

She received Angie’s squeeze with gratitude.

“Just don’t let the fear keep you from the wonder.”

“I think I get that part,” Julia began. “But what about the rest?”

“What rest?”

“Today, for example. You couldn’t even spend two hours away from the kids without a new worry to pull you back.”

“I can’t argue with that.” Angie sighed.

“Do you ever resent the constant demands? Or giving up your career? I mean, be honest. What about your dreams? Your needs? Who looks after Angie?”

Angie started to say something, then held her tongue.

“What?” Julia asked. “Tell me.”

“I’d rather not. Too holier-than-thou-sounding.” She paused, seeming to gauge Julia’s reaction before continuing. “You know, too religious.”

Julia blushed at the nakedness of the comment. Then she joined Angie’s lead by stepping over a line of candor. “Not too religious. Just religious. And I don’t know about anyone else, but you’ve definitely lived holier than me.”

They shared what seemed their first authentic laugh in years.

“Go ahead,” Julia continued. “You were going to say?”

“I know I did a bit of whining earlier about the frustrations of motherhood. Forgive me for that. Being a mom often feels like one long string of sacrificial moments.”

“Especially with so many. Does it ever stop?”

“Ask me in twenty years. Until then, I try to remember what Jesus said. ‘If you want to find your life you must first lose it.’”

Julia nodded, remembering the sentiment from one of the Christianity classes she had attended with Troy. “I know that quote.”

“He also said that unless a seed goes into the ground and dies, it can’t give life.”

“Meaning?”

“To me it means we find our true purpose and joy when we follow his example, when we give our lives away to others. It helps me view all of my little sacrifices for Kevin and the kids as my way of losing my life.” She paused to lock eyes with Julia. “But I wouldn’t trade the life I’ve found for anything in the world.”

Kevin’s voice interrupted the moment. “Hi, beautiful…”

“Speaking of the life I’ve found,” Angie said before accepting the call. “I think it’s time to rescue our men before they go over the Falls in a barrel!”

The ancient
world had conspired to create such architectural marvels as Rome’s Coliseum, China’s Great Wall, and India’s Taj Mahal. Modern man had raised the stakes with the Panama Canal, Empire State Building, and Golden Gate Bridge. But none of them had outdone the genius on display in Tommy Tolbert’s bedroom.

“This is it!” Troy announced as Tommy added a final Lego piece to a three-foot-high replica of the tallest building on the planet. “Ladies and gentlemen…”

He paused to make eye contact with both members of the audience. Kevin stood in the doorway with Joy at his knee. The official count might number three spectators, but little Ricky never actually lifted his head from Daddy’s shoulder.

“…I proudly present the tenth wonder of the world, a three-hour construction effort that, according to the box, should only be attempted by individuals twice the age of our construction foreman. Please join me in congratulating an engineering genius, Mr. Tommy Tolbert!”

Joy clapped riotously while Kevin quietly raised his thumb in a show of fatherly pride. Tommy relished the moment, bowing deeply in self-congratulation while keeping the secret: Uncle Troy had helped him. A lot.

“What do you say we celebrate with sliced apples and peanut butter?” Kevin asked while confirming the baby’s slumber. “I’ll put Ricky in his bed and then we’ll start the party.”

Six minutes later the gang tapped milk cups in response to Daddy’s congratulatory toast. Before he could sip, however, Troy leaned toward Leah’s high chair for a second inspecting whiff.

“Keep her diaper fresh,” Angie had coached Kevin on the phone. “Otherwise the diarrhea will cause a painful rash.”

Troy was not going to let that happen. “I’ll get this one.”

The sound of the front door opening interrupted Kevin’s grateful nod.

“Mommy!” Joy squealed in delight.

“Aunt Julia!” Tommy said, rushing from the table. “Come see what’s in my room!”

Kevin and Troy insisted they could have handled the job. They even pretended offense at their wives’ early return. But Angie had been right. The men hadn’t found time to talk about any of the pressing matters each was eager to discuss.

“You two go for a walk,” she commanded.

Four blocks later Troy halted their advancing footsteps. “Wait,” he interrupted. “Are you saying what I think you’re saying?”

Kevin flashed a triumphant grin. “Twenty percent.”

“So a fifth of potential voters would support a Bright Spots platform?”

Kevin slapped his friend’s back. “What’s wrong, pal, didn’t believe your own numbers?”

Troy’s eyes followed a passing car while his mind tried to process the implications. Elections were won and lost on single-digit margins. Political fortunes were made and lost because of catering to voting blocs much, much smaller. His friend would likely become an important player in the minds of party leaders. They needed Kevin’s influence to garner support among an important segment of the electorate.

Troy looked back toward Kevin. “What else did Anderson say?”

“He said Franklin thinks the Bright Spots proposal, properly positioned, could help his campaign.”

“Properly positioned?” A yellow light. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Kevin resumed walking. “In a second. You said you wanted to hear the good news first.”

“No I didn’t,” Troy said, trotting to catch up with Kevin. “I said I wanted the bad news but you overruled me, as usual.”

“Oh yeah.” Kevin laughed. “You need to understand the good news to help me think through how to react to the bad.”

“React to what?”

“Brent Anderson ran his own version of our numbers. He said we were right about bright spot regions as the primary engines of population and economic growth. He said Franklin needs to attract votes and donors from these segments of the population if he’s gonna win the election. Social conservatives still resent his support for the Youth Initiative.”

“Yes, we do!”

A momentary silence while Kevin seconded Troy’s motion with a nod.

Troy’s yellow light shaded toward red. “Why do I get the feeling there’s more? And that I won’t like it?”

“Anderson said it would be political suicide to move quickly,” Kevin explained. “Nicole Florea’s crowd already fumes anytime Franklin even mentions the Bright Spots proposal. Imagine how they’ll react if and when he makes it part of his platform.”

“Let me guess,” Troy groaned. “They want to take a ‘balanced’ approach.”

Kevin halted his advance. “I can’t believe it,” he said, extending his arm toward Troy’s chest. “That’s exactly what he said.”

“It’s what they always say, Kevin!” Troy sounded angry. “But you can’t make a balanced choice between east and west. If you’re heading in the wrong direction you turn around. You don’t stop and admire the view! Bright spots shine because they go against the flow of the majority. How on earth do you take a balanced approach to a one-hundred-and-eighty-degree turn?”

“I hear ya, buddy.” Kevin took a deep breath as if trying to lower Troy’s rising volume. Then he looked his friend in the eyes. “Listen, Troy. I don’t agree with any of this. OK? I don’t like it any more than you do. But I need to figure out how to play the hand I’ve been dealt.”

Troy understood. “I’m sorry. Go on. I’m listening.”

Kevin pulled his friend into the deep end by repeating what he had been hesitant to share. “Franklin says we need more transitions in light of the deepening economic free fall.”

“More transitions? Has he even read…?”

“He’s read our proposal, Troy,” Kevin said sternly. “Anderson told me Franklin agrees with our long-term analysis. But he worries our approach could deepen the short-term crisis. That we need the cash infusion and savings generated by Youth Initiative policies.”

“But—” Troy cut himself short. He couldn’t argue. It would take a long time to reap the benefits of a pure Bright Spots agenda. Even in the unlikely event every family in the nation started having more kids immediately, the corresponding economic growth wouldn’t outrun the soaring costs of an aging population for decades.

Resignation swept over Troy’s face. “So what’s the plan?”

Another deep breath released Kevin’s reluctant explanation. “Franklin hopes to sell a big goal that he thinks will strike a positive, forward-looking tone.”

“Why doesn’t that make me feel better?” Troy mocked.

“He wants to increase fertility at twice the rate we increase transitions.” Kevin held his tongue while Troy absorbed the news.

“Two births for every killing?”

Kevin remained silent a moment longer. “I said the rate of increase, not the raw number.”

Troy did a mental calculation to correct his misunderstanding. “That’s even worse!”

“I know. But the average voter will make the same mistake you just made. Speeches and sound bites will leave the impression he hopes to solve the long-term population crisis twice as fast as he wants to reduce the elderly population.”

“An all-around swell guy!” Troy spat.

“I told you we wouldn’t like it. But think for a second. What opportunities would such a policy present?”

Troy reluctantly obeyed, closing his eyes as if concentrating to calculate a restaurant tip.

“Well,” he began, “in light of current trends, it would require some pretty aggressive incentives to motivate couples to have kids.”

“My thoughts exactly,” Kevin replied.

“But they’ll probably also increase incentives for seniors to transition. Those trends have flattened. Most of the early adopters and sickly have already opted in, or rather out. Whatever you call it when they die. Anyway, the low-hanging fruit has already been plucked and destroyed. You know the snakes will want to expand into healthier, younger markets.”

“I know,” Kevin confessed. “But I don’t think we can win that battle in this round. But we might be able to win on the other front.”

Troy placed both palms on his head while filling his chest with air, his way of replacing hotheaded passion with a brainstorming cap.

“Besides,” Kevin continued, “NEXT might lose their appeal. The Tenth District Court might give us a bigger victory than we could possibly hope to achieve in Washington.”

“Let’s hope,” Troy said with a nod.

“Meanwhile, let’s address the root of the problem.” Kevin turned back toward the house, where they could pull out some scratch paper and pens to record whatever brilliance might transpire. “We can make a strong case that as fertility rates continue to drop the problem will get worse. I’ll show pictures of Tommy, Joy, and Ricky, then your ugly mug. I’ll say my kids will each have to work a second job just to cover their Uncle Troy’s share of senior-care costs.”

“Hey, don’t toss me into the freeloader bucket yet. I still have time to have my own brood of kids.”

The comment distracted Kevin’s train of thought. “Really?”

Troy grinned awkwardly. “Well, a guy can hope.”

“Have you and Julia been trying?”

Troy chose to divert. “I can’t answer that. A gentleman always protects a lady’s reputation.” He flashed a thin smile.

It worked. Kevin returned to his point. “Anyway, I’ve been thinking. What if we started a privately funded research and capitalization organization?”

“Like a foundation?”

“Sort of. But more directive, like a venture capital operation. A not-for-profit version of TS Enterprises. You know, do what we do well.”

Troy winced. “To be honest, we’re not doing it that well at the moment. In fact, we need to discuss a few pressing matters before I head back to Colorado.”

“Fine,” Kevin said dismissively to resume vision-casting. “We’ll need an official-sounding name.”

Troy thought about that for a moment. “How about something like the Center for Economic Health?”

“Perfect!” Kevin snapped. “The Center for Economic Health will exist to discover what’s working in bright spot communities and provide seed funding for promising innovations that can help other regions foster bright spot habits.”

“I like the sound of that,” Troy added. “Although Nicole Florea will say we’re subsidizing head-in-the-sand choices and creating a culture filled with environmentally irresponsible breeders.”

“We’ll worry about people like Nicole Florea later. First things first. Someone has to find, fund, and highlight what works so our nation doesn’t advance the kind of failed strategies they tried in places like Russia and Japan. We can do better than just throwing money at single mothers to have another kid. We need married couples raising families.”

Troy sensed a tinge of optimism in his friend’s words. “Wait a minute,” he said suspiciously. “You’ve already scripted this, haven’t you?”

A sheepish grin.

“We aren’t brainstorming from scratch, are we? You’ve given this some serious thought already.”

“So?”

“Spill it!”

“Spill what?” Kevin asked defensively.

Troy threw his right arm around his friend’s unsuspecting neck and positioned his left hand for a torturous head-rub. “Don’t make me do it, Kevin. You know I will.”

“All right! All right!” Kevin pleaded while trying to rescue his face from an armpit moist with August heat. “Man alive, Troy!” Kevin used his shirt to wipe the stink from his face. “Ever hear of Speed Stick?”

“Spill it,” Troy said calmly after releasing his victim.

“I think Franklin plans to give me a platform to present the Bright Spots policies.”

“Anderson said that?”

“No. But I can read between the lines.”

“Wow,” Troy heard himself utter. “What kind of platform?”

“Who knows? But whatever it is, we’ll need an organization that has my back. At this moment all we have is a bunch of spreadsheets showing bright spot communities have more kids and fewer transitions. We need more. We need to show how these communities make those trends easier and more likely. And most importantly, we need to find out what can be done to replicate those patterns in other regions.”

The conversation reminded Troy of what he loved most about spending time with Kevin Tolbert. His friend’s contagious enthusiasm had managed to find a silver lining despite very bad news. He smiled, reminiscing about times spent together finding turnaround potential in a failing business, selling investors on a plan neither fully knew could work, and garnering support for a congressional campaign both considered a long shot. He missed these moments feeding one another’s creative juices and fanning the flame of a shared dream.

Despite the excitement of the present dream, however, Troy knew that it would be tough to turn it into reality while TS Enterprises remained short on cash.

Against every instinct within him, Troy forced himself to toss the wet blanket. “I gotta be honest, Kevin. I’m not sure we’ll be able to bankroll this one. That’s one of the things we need to discuss. I’m coming up short on investors for the Westar deal.”

“What about Peak Capital? Didn’t you meet with Wilkie?”

“He said he’ll present it to the board.”

“In other words, not a chance.”

Troy’s nod confirmed Kevin’s conclusion. “All of our usual sources came up short. I don’t know how we’re gonna fund the Westar project, let alone pursue a whole new venture. Especially something as big as this.”

They slowed their pace from blue-sky dreaming to rainy-day prudence.

“I’m sorry, Kevin.”

As they eased toward the house, Troy felt a familiar squeeze on his shoulder. He tilted his eyes down toward his friend’s earnest gaze.

“So, what do you say?” Kevin asked.

Troy knew what it meant. He had seen the same look of dogged determination on countless other occasions.
Damn the torpedoes, full speed ahead!
Kevin Tolbert would find a way to make the Center for Economic Health a reality. And when he did, the organization would need a leader, someone who could be trusted to implement Kevin’s vision, someone who knew how to clarify and organize, but who also had the political instincts to smell the smoke of trouble long before it burst into flames of destruction. Someone who would rather die than disappoint or betray his best friend.

A few hours earlier a bewildered Tommy Tolbert had stood beside a mound of unassembled Legos. Now a second Tolbert genius needed Uncle Troy’s help. A lot.