Expecting: A Novel (20 page)

Jack wonders if his life would have turned out differently if he’d had a mother like Laurie. Not that he’s exactly sure what kind of mother she’ll be since the baby isn’t born yet, but he can already tell she won’t be a “my child must be a genius
or
else
” mother. “I want the baby to be happy,” Laurie says when they’re putting the crib together. “Maybe that sounds shallow, Jack, but after going through all this—not the
you
part of this, the miscarriages part—it makes you realize happiness is severely underrated.”

He doesn’t disagree with her. He thinks about the times he’s been happy lately—when he listens to Megan recite lines from her play, for example. He is so proud of Megan—it’s like a kind of wonder that somebody could be so good. And that somebody like Megan could like
him
.

Happiness is feeling baby Buddy kicking away in Laurie’s belly. “He really wants out, doesn’t he?”

“Wouldn’t you?” Laurie says.

And being the father of a baby…he can’t even explain how that makes him feel. Although once the baby is born, everything could change. But now it seems right, being with Laurie, feeling Buddy wiggling around. Even if Jack ends up living on the street in a cardboard box and begging for change at freeway exits, he has still managed to do one amazing thing.

“Would you like me to get you more hot chocolate?” he asks Laurie.

“Maybe later.” She frowns. “I wish I could remember where I put the crib linens. It’s funny—you spend so much time picking out a crib and linens, and when you bring the baby home, he’ll sleep in a bassinet.”

“You don’t put him in the crib? Isn’t that what it’s for?”

“You want him close. In some cultures, babies share a family bed for weeks, for months. Or years. One of the reasons is because of breast-feeding—babies eat a lot more frequently in the beginning.”

Jack hadn’t thought about breast-feeding. “You’re sure you’re going to do that?” he asks Laurie, trying not to look at her breasts.

“Yeah, it’ll be nice. All this hormonal stuff happens when you’re pregnant—not just your body changing, emotional things too. In a good way. You’re suddenly anxious to do it all. Be a mother, a mama bear.” She growls. “See?” She growls again.

“I’d be clueless,” Jack says. “I didn’t know about the bassinet. Or how breast-feeding works. What happens if you’re not around? How does he eat?”

“You rent a breast pump and express the extra milk and save it. In the fridge. A lot of people think breast milk is better for a baby. Did your mother breast-feed you?”

Jack has no idea. He can’t imagine his mother taking time off from her busy schedule to breast-feed him. Of course, he can’t imagine his mother taking time to get pregnant. “I don’t know,” he says.

“You still haven’t told them?”

Jack shakes his head. “Too scary.”

“They might surprise you. Be excited. They’re going to be grandparents.”

Jack tries to picture the look on his mother’s face when he tells her she’s going to be a grandparent.
You’re too young, you’re not married, she’s married to another man, you donated your
sperm
?

“I think it’s better they don’t know. It’s enough for them to realize I’m finally going to graduate. Graduate
and
be a father? Their heads might explode. What about you? Did you tell people?”

“I told my mother and she’s okay with it. She’s somebody who likes things a little off-center. My dad was the same way; they were perfect for each other. He died when I was a little younger than you.”

“Sorry,” Jack says.

“He was a cool guy. He taught high school English. He always said he felt his goal was to teach kids to like reading. Hemingway or Jane Austen or
MAD
magazine
—it didn’t matter. Liking it, that was the important part. You two would’ve gotten along. The sperm switch, he would think that was crazy, in a good way. Alan’s family, they’re more—conventional. He hasn’t told them yet, but he will eventually.”

“Maybe when the baby’s born and looks like me—unless you could tell them you had an affair.” Jack’s trying to make a joke, but when Laurie doesn’t smile he remembers Laurie talking to Alan about old girlfriends on Facebook. “Oops,” he says.

“That’s okay.”

Jack isn’t sure how to ask about Alan. Laurie told him Alan was going to live somewhere else for a couple of days.

“Alan isn’t mad at you,” Laurie says, as if she knows what he’s thinking. “He’s not mad at me either. He’s sort of mad at everything else. He’s somebody who likes his life to go a certain way. He’s very orderly. He doesn’t like surprises.”

“But he wants to have a baby, doesn’t he?”

“Yes. But not exactly this particular baby.” Laurie gives Jack a sad smile.

“He should be here though. With you.”

“Don’t worry about Alan and me. It’ll work out. You’ll see.”

Jack nods. He hopes she’s right.

Laurie tries to get to her feet—it’s not a pretty sight. “Come help,” she says to Jack, “and if you laugh at a pregnant woman trying to stand up, I will kick you in the shin. And a mad pregnant woman kicking you is not something you’ll forget.”

***

They have more hot chocolate in the kitchen and she asks him if he’s excited about graduation. He says he is, but he’ll mostly be glad when it’s over. He only has one final that worries him. “The professor hates me,” he tells Laurie.

“I’ve heard that excuse before,” she says. “What’s the class?”

“Medieval Literature of Devotion and Dissent.”

Laurie makes a face. “An elective?”

“For my religious studies minor. I thought it sounded fun.”

“Nothing about that sounds fun. What’s the final?”

“Orthodoxy, Heterodoxy, and Heresy.”

“If I were you, I wouldn’t be drinking hot chocolate. I’d be drinking gin from a bottle.”

“The final’s fifty percent of my grade and Mr. Bryant told me unless I make an A, he’s not passing me.”

“So you’re studying hard.”

Jack shrugs. “I’m trying. But studying in my apartment…” He explains his living situation, the distraction of Jeff, how Casey the monochromatic dresser has suddenly decided to be in a band, and she’s taking drum lessons and there’s a drum set in the dining room now. How Florence is coming back since she broke up with her boyfriend, and as much as he’d like to stay in Megan’s room, he can’t because of the stupid roommate rule.

“Megan is your girlfriend?” Laurie asks. “Not the one who threw the phone.”

“Normandie threw the phone. Megan is my real girlfriend.” He shakes his head. “I wasn’t sure at first. Which I guess is why I had
two
girlfriends, you know, because it was easier than picking one over the other. I didn’t do it to be an asshole, I swear. But the whole time—I kept thinking about Megan. Even when I was with Normandie. It sounds completely lame.”

“But I understand. You were taking Megan for granted. So when you saw you could possibly lose her—”

“That seems obvious now. But it didn’t at the time. Sometimes I feel like I’m never going to figure anything out.”

“You’re too hard on yourself.” Laurie’s smiling at Jack. She’s got a hot chocolate mustache.

Jack looks around the kitchen. He’s not sure if he should say anything or not. But what the hell. “I have a confession,” he says. “About why I donated my sperm.”

“You don’t have to tell me.”

“I want to.” He takes a deep breath. “I took money from my fraternity party fund. Not for drugs or anything like that—my parents cut my allowance and I needed money for gas and food. And beer. So the sperm donation, it was to pay back the money I borrowed.” He corrects himself. “The money I stole. It wasn’t about doing something to help infertile couples. It was for money. For me.”

Laurie looks at him. She hates him now. He doesn’t blame her; he hates himself.

“Did you think I’d be mad about that?” she asks him.

“Yeah.”

“I don’t care why you did it. That was never what this is about.” She laughs. “Who knows what it’s about? I don’t understand it. I don’t understand a lot of things—big issues, like…fate. Like was I was meant to have miscarriages and learn from the experience? So they were ultimately a
good
thing? Because they weren’t. They sucked. But I guess if some woman had to get pissed off at the fertility clinic where she worked, fate must’ve been working that day when she switched Alan’s sperm with yours because—no offense—I would’ve preferred Alan. But you know what? Buddy is going to be pretty spectacular.”

He doesn’t know what to say.

“Everybody screws up, Jack. That’s why we get second chances,” Laurie says.

“I think I’m on my third and fourth and fifth chances. How many do we get?”

“As many as we need.”

“Good,” Jack says. He sighs. “Life is bizarrely bizarre. Like how mostly I try to do the right thing, but then it blows up in my face. And then stuff that
shouldn’t
be okay turns out fine.” He pauses. “Wow. That was either super deep or total bullshit.”

Laurie grins at him. “Do you think Buddy is going to be like you? Because that would be okay with me.”

Jack thinks that over. “Maybe. But I hope nobody ever throws a phone at his head.”

***

Laurie insists on walking him to his car. She looks inside and sees the clutter. “I’ll clean it after I move,” he says. “Megan has a friend who’s looking for a roommate. It’s a house and I’d have my own bedroom. The only negative is the house is in Lancaster.”

“Lancaster? That’s a million miles away from UCLA.”

“I know, kind of a schlep.”

“You should stay here. In the guest room.”

Jack isn’t sure he’s heard right. “At your house?”

“Why not? I don’t make a lot of noise, no drum set.”

“I don’t have much money for rent.”

“You wouldn’t have to pay rent. Just help around the house—dishes, take out the garbage, pick me up when I fall over. You need a place where you can concentrate on your finals.”

He thinks it over. “What happens when your husband comes back?”

“There’s plenty of room. You don’t have to decide right now. Think it over. Thanks for helping me with the crib.” She smiles at him.

***

It takes him almost forty-five minutes to get back to Megan’s apartment because there’s an accident on the freeway. Jack imagines commuting from Lancaster and there must be more advantages than your own bedroom, but he can’t think of any because the thought of being trapped in a car for four hours every day pretty much negates anything positive.

He pulls up to the apartment just as Megan is getting home from rehearsal, and she’s so excited she’s practically bouncing out of her shoes. “It went fabulously tonight, like this
thing
that happens when it’s not about memorizing lines, you sort of
become
the person. All of us, we
were
our characters. Abso-fucking-lutely magical.”

This
is
a
girl
to
spend
the
rest
of
your
life
with
, he thinks. Her uninhibited joy, how she attacks everything with a take no prisoners attitude. How did he get so lucky?

“What?” she is saying to him. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

***

Casey is playing her drums, Florence is in her old bedroom, and she’s very attentive to Jack—if anything
too
attentive, like she’s ready for a rebound relationship. “Lance told me he couldn’t be faithful,” Florence says to Jack, touching Jack’s hand and looking into his eyes. “He said he could never promise me anything, but I didn’t believe him. So who’s the stupid one here, Lance? I mean Jack.” She squeezes his fingers and giggles. “That’s funny,” she says. “I called you Lance.” She squeezes his fingers again.

Jack stays in Megan’s room; they lie on the bed like spoons. She’s telling him details about the play and he can tell how happy she is because she’s not doing her Irish accent.

“I haven’t asked about you,” she says suddenly. “I’m such a selfish cow. Are you okay?”

“I found another place to live,” he says.

“Not in Lancaster?”

“No, just over the hill. In Sherman Oaks.” He’s looking at Megan. He feels as if he’s about to make the best or worst decision of his life.

“Can I show you something?” he says.

“Sure.”

Jack gets out his cell phone. It’s chipped on the edges and the volume control comes and goes, but at least it’s working again. He scrolls to the ultrasound photo and holds it out to Megan.

“Whoa,” she says. “Ultrasounds are cool. It’s crazy that’s a baby. Did your sister get married? Is this her baby?”

Jack looks at Megan. Okay, here goes. “It’s sort of a long story.”

***

He’s not sure how Megan will react. The phone is back in his pocket, so at least she can’t throw it at him. “I can’t believe you told me all that,” she finally says. And Jack sighs. Yeah, he knew honesty would bite him in the ass. Again. But Megan is kissing him. And grinning. “I am so
honored
you would reveal this to me. I wish you’d told me before. I could have helped you; it must’ve been horrible, dealing with this by yourself.”

“Yeah.”

“It’s wild, isn’t it? How many people it takes to make a baby?” Megan says. “Sometimes family isn’t as simple as you think. Can I see the ultrasound again? Does the baby look like you? I can’t believe you don’t know the sex. I’d want to know immediately.”

She talks about how they have to think about names and when can she meet Laurie and Jack starts to laugh because Megan is talking so quickly and he finally puts his finger to her lips. She smiles and kisses the tip of his finger.

“I think I could kind of love you,” she says, and she kisses him for real this time.

She tries to convince herself she doesn’t miss Alan. It’s not as if she sees him that much during the week; they both have jobs. And sure, they’re married, but does that mean they’re together all the time? Of course not. Alan living somewhere else? She barely notices he’s gone.

Bullshit. She misses making coffee for him in the morning, picking up his socks from beside the hamper—why they don’t make it
into
the hamper drives her insane. But who would have thought she’d miss Alan’s dirty socks?

She misses his laugh, the touch of his hand on the small of her back. His presence.

One day without Alan has turned into two. Then three, now a week. Now longer. They’ve spoken on the phone; Alan tells her Choc-O is coming along and the Belgians are pleased with everything so far. He asks how she’s feeling and says he misses going to Lamaze. Laurie knows that’s not true—he felt uncomfortable at the Lamaze classes he attended. “I feel like I should be wearing Birkenstocks and smoking pot,” he said.

“Tell Buddy hi from me,” he tells her on the phone.

“I will,” she says. He doesn’t mention coming home. Neither does Laurie. She’s told him about Jack moving in—is that the reason for Alan’s chilliness? Laurie thinks Alan is using Jack’s visit at the house as an excuse—it makes it easier for him to stay away. Out of sight, out of mind. In Alan’s Oakwood apartment, Laurie isn’t pregnant at all.

***

Jack has been the perfect houseguest. He’s quiet and seems happy to handle chores like rolling the trash cans to the curb for garbage day or unloading the dishwasher. Laurie tries to make sure he has his space and time to study. “You don’t have to entertain me,” she says to him. He asks if he could look at one of her baby books, just to learn a little more about what’s going on. She gives him one but makes him promise to focus on his schoolwork.

When Jack goes to class, Laurie does a quick clean sweep of the house before she heads into the Hidden Valley office. She’s surprised how orderly Jack is, almost like Alan. In the bathroom, he hangs his towel on the towel rack and wipes the bathroom sink so she can’t see a trace of soap or toothpaste. Jack’s toothbrush and comb and hair gel are arranged neatly on the counter.

The other morning, as Jack was getting into his car, Laurie called out to him, “You need a jacket. It’s a little nippy.”

Is there an exact moment where you turn into a parent? At conception? When the baby is born? When the young man who donated sperm for your baby is living in your guest room?

“I’ve got a hoodie in the car,” Jack shouts back at Laurie. “Thanks.”

As he drives away, Laurie waves. She doesn’t need Alan. Who? That’s right, she can barely remember his name.

***

Grace has been traveling with Hal and Emilie, so Hidden Valley is running at half speed. “Perfect timing,” Grace told Laurie. “So we’ll really boogie after baby Buddy makes his appearance.” Laurie tried to explain she’ll need to work
less
after Buddy arrives, but Grace pretended not to hear her. “Don’t worry. I’ll be back for the baby shower,” Grace said. And maybe the timing is perfect since Laurie still hasn’t gotten up the courage to tell Grace about Buddy’s paternity, and she’s also unsure how to explain Alan’s absence. And Jack living at the house. Conundrum/clusterfuck indeed.

Laurie only has one Lamaze class left and she could skip it, but Jack has been studying all afternoon and needs a break and thinks Lamaze would be interesting, so he asks Laurie if he could come along. “Unless it’s weird if they ask who I am,” he says. “What do I do?”

“Wing it,” Laurie tells him.

When Laurie was young, her grandmother gave her a subscription to
Highlights
magazine. The magazine had a squeaky clean, too-good-to-be-true quality. The riddles and jokes were okay, but her favorite page was the Goofus and Gallant cartoon. In each issue, two boys are faced with a decision. Should I eat that last piece of pie? Goofus—and you know he’s a goofus because he has that unfortunate name and also because he wears sloppy clothes—always,
always
makes the wrong decision. “I’ll eat the pie,” he says. Gallant (another loser name) dresses like a prig; he clearly has a stick up his ass. “I won’t eat the pie,” Gallant says. “Perhaps someone else might like it.”

Jack hasn’t heard of Goofus and Gallant, and Laurie tells him he should be grateful his parents never made him read
Highlights
. But he understands the concept, so when Jack and Laurie arrive for the final Lamaze class and Laurie points out Victoria Martinez and says she and Alan refer to her as “Gallant,” Jack understands.

Victoria Martinez is slim, her baby weight concentrated in her pregnancy bump (an expression Laurie loathes) and her maternity clothes are superstylish, clearly expensive. Her purse is a huge Prada satchel she tosses casually on the floor, and Laurie is certain Victoria will buy (if she hasn’t already) a matching Prada diaper bag. The diamond in her engagement ring is the size of a gum ball, and she moves her hand to her face constantly, allowing it to reflect the light so other women will notice and comment, “Oh, what a
gorgeous
ring.”

Mr. Victoria Martinez is small with a dark unibrow; he wears a gold watch so large it looks fake, like if you get too close a spray of water will squirt you in the face. Laurie has never heard him speak.

Victoria never stops talking. She is always complimenting everyone. To Miranda, who is wearing a hideous red-and-white checked maternity blouse that looks like a restaurant tablecloth, “Miranda, I
adore
that top. Where did you get it? No,
Target
? Impossible.” Victoria’s next victim is Shea, a gorgeous, shy black woman. “You’re so flexible, Shea. Bet that comes in handy in the
boudoir
.” Shea knows Victoria is full of shit and occasionally looks over at Laurie and smiles.

Victoria saves her most Gallant behavior for Kathy, the teacher. “I don’t know what I would do if I’d gotten another Lamaze teacher. You’re the best, Kath. I’m going to write a personal letter to the head of Lamaze to let them know what a
prize
they’ve got in you.”

Victoria tried to suck up to Laurie when class started, but Laurie refused to play along. “Cute jeans. Isabella Oliver?” Victoria said, and Laurie knew immediately something was up because Laurie’s jeans look cheap and the pregnancy panel has stretched out so far it droops almost below her waist and the legs are too wide, like clown pants. But they’re her most comfortable jeans, so she wears them anyway.

Victoria is the only one who comments when Alan stops coming to Lamaze. “Where’s your cute husband?” she asks the first time Alan misses a class.

“Work,” Laurie says, hoping that will be enough to shut her up. No such luck.

“Evan would
die
if he couldn’t be here. He wants the full pregnancy experience. He says he’d go through labor with me if he could. I wish,” Victoria says and she reaches back to pat her husband’s hand.

“Work again?” Victoria says the second time Alan is absent.

“Big project. Waiting on the Belgians,” Laurie answers and moves to the other side of the room to practice her breathing. Laurie notices Victoria watching her and whispering to the other mothers. Poor Laurie.

***

“I’m nervous,” Jack says as they walk into the class.

“I told you. You could be back at the house studying.”

“I can’t read any more Middle English. It makes my eyes bleed.”

This last Lamaze class is more of a review—they practice their comfort measures and progressive relaxation. When Laurie sits between Jack’s legs, she can feel him hesitate before he puts his hands on her stomach. But he breathes along with her, “Hunh, hunh, hunh,” and seems to get into it.

“Don’t worry about how your vocalization sounds,” Kathy says. “If grunting makes you uncomfortable, pick a word or a song lyric instead, whatever works for you.”

We
sound
like
a
demented
chorus
, Laurie thinks. A roomful of pregnant women making strange sounds, practicing to have a baby.

At the end of class, Kathy tells them they’ve done a great job and they’ll do a great job in the delivery room as well. Most of the moms have brought Kathy gifts. Laurie found a mini Grow Your Own Herbs kit she thinks Kathy will like. Victoria gives Kathy something in a Tiffany bag.

As Laurie and Jack are walking out to the parking lot, Victoria approaches them. “Your husband is still busy with his project? He must be working very hard,” she says.

“That’s the kind of man he is,” Laurie says.

Victoria turns to Jack, waits for him to say something. He doesn’t.

“At least you didn’t have to come alone tonight, especially for the last class.” Victoria addresses this to Laurie.

“I know. It’s great Jack could join me.” Laurie puts her arm around Jack’s waist. She lowers her voice and moves in close to Victoria. “Don’t tell anybody, but Jack is my lover.”

Victoria’s mouth opens—she doesn’t close it right away. Laurie gives Jack a small squeeze and Jack, bless his heart, rolls with it, gives Laurie a squeeze back.

“Laurie’s smokin’ hot,” Jack says to Victoria and he squeezes Laurie again.

***

Laurie and Jack are laughing so hard in the car they have tears running down their faces.

“Maybe you shouldn’t laugh so much,” Jack says. “It could be bad for the baby.”

“No,” Laurie says. “I think we’re guaranteeing that Buddy will have an excellent sense of humor.”

Jack likes that. Laurie can see him smile in the dark of the car. “As long as he’s a Goofus.” He starts to laugh again.

***

At the house, Jack heads straight to the guest room. Laurie promises him a hot chocolate break later. She thinks about calling Alan. Reconsiders. Reconsiders again and picks up the phone.

He’s not there. Or he’s not picking up. “Hi,” she says. “It’s me. Just wanted to let you know everything’s okay. Last Lamaze class tonight, all rockets are firing, awaiting countdown. Let me know how you’re doing.”

She clicks off, wonders if Alan is sitting in his apartment looking at the caller ID and deliberately not picking up. She should go over there, knock on the door, and tell him it’s time to come home.

Why
are
we
so
stubborn?
she wonders.
Neither
one
of
us
will
make
the
first
move
. It’s turned into a contest—who can hold a grudge the longest? Life would be easier if they were the kind of people who yelled at each other instead of retreating into some stupid monastery-like silence. How long is this going to last?

Baby Buddy gives her a sharp kick. When he is born, he will be one giant elbow. Maybe Alan will call back tonight. And if he doesn’t, Laurie will try him again tomorrow. But right now she’ll make hot chocolate.