The Language of Sisters (27 page)

“But you still think he’ll freak out about the baby, right?”

“Well, maybe he’s right about that. Maybe I’m not cut out to be a mother.” Self-doubt seemed to have taken over my thoughts and was now speaking for me instead of reason.

She squinted at me in disbelief. “Are you serious?”

“I might be.” I threw my hands up in the air, leaned back heavily. “I’m scared, Nova, okay? I’m scared shitless. I know when I tell Shane, it’s going to be over and he’s going to go back to San Francisco and I’m going to be all alone and I just don’t know if I can take this on with no one to help me.”

Nova set her coffee down with deliberation and pursed her lips before responding. “But you’re not alone. You have me and my mom and your mom and
yourself
, Nicole. You told me your decision to adopt this baby was set in stone. You were completely sure this is what you were meant to do. Now you have some man trouble and you’re letting it affect your sanity.” She sighed. “What are you really afraid of?”

I stared at the speckled linoleum, tears filling my throat. “That she won’t know me,” I whispered quietly.

“Who?”

“The baby,” I said. “What if she doesn’t bond with me? How’s she going to know I’m her mother when I didn’t carry her inside me?”

Nova crossed her legs, looking at me. “You’ve already started bonding with this baby. She’s heard your voice for almost three months. You’ve touched her as you touched Jenny. You said yourself you feel like she chose you to be her mother.”

“But—” I began.

“Who’s in charge of your life, Nicole?” she interrupted.

“I am,” I said, quietly disarmed by the strength of her words.

“
Who?
”

“I am,” I said again, louder, more insistent this time.

“And what do you want from your life, right now, right this minute?” she challenged.

I let my heart answer. “I want to be a mother. I want to adopt this baby.”

Nova nodded, shortly. “Okay, then. Focus on that. Get ready for it. Do what you have to do with Shane. Worry about Garret later. Stop waffling. It’s time to get your goddamn priorities straight.”

I sat there, stunned, staring at my friend. “When did you get to be such a hard-ass? I thought you loved me.”

“I do love you. That’s why I’m telling you the truth.” She stood and moved over to the stove. “Now quit your bitching and let me make you some eggs.”

•  •  •

That afternoon Shane and I ate lunch with Mom and Jenny, then went to sit in the backyard beneath the shade of the pear tree. Small and hard green fruit lay scattered around our feet, rejected by the branches to make room for more healthy bounty. I rolled one back and forth under my bare foot, enjoying the smooth, cool sensation of its skin against mine. Shane held a few papers in his lap, reading them over and making notes in the margins. I thought about what Nova had said, how I needed to get my priorities straight, and realized that Shane had already made his abundantly clear: work would always come first, before anything. Before us. Before a baby. By sleeping with him, by not telling him about the adoption, I had simply been putting off the inevitable. It was time for both of us to tell the truth.

“Did you mean what you said about being a parent?” I suddenly asked him, having planned a more subtle approach to the conversation, but unable to keep myself from this particular question.

He looked up at me, brows knitted together. “Hmmm?”

“Last night, at the party, when you told Garret you couldn’t be a parent, even with me.”

“Of course I meant it. Neither of us is cut out for it.”

I contemplated the smooth edge of my shirt. “I don’t know about that.”

“Oh, come on.” Shane rolled his eyes. “You’ve told me a hundred times that marriage and babies are not in the stars for you. Not after everything that happened in your family.”

“I know, but—”

“You’re changing your mind now?”

“I don’t know. Maybe. Yes.” I paused. “What would you say if I told you I was considering adopting Jenny’s baby?”

Shane carefully set his papers on the grass before responding. “
Are
you considering it?”

I took a deep breath. “Yes.”

He looked at me, eyebrows raised. “So. Does considering it mean you’ve already made up your mind to do it?”

“I think so, yes.”
The paperwork is being processed as we speak
, I thought. I tried to make my voice sound sure, though every space inside my body was shaking.

Shane looked at me, expressionless. “What’s this about? Is there something wrong with our life? I think we have it pretty good. A lot better than most people.”

“There’s nothing wrong with our life. It’s just … Don’t you ever feel like there’s got to be something more? Something substantial and lasting and meaningful to live for?”

“So you’re telling me we’re not those things? That our relationship is insubstantial, limited, and meaningless?”

I sighed, folding my hands in my lap. “That’s not what I meant.”

“What did you mean, then?” His tone had fallen into lawyer mode; he was cross-examining me.

“I’m talking about finding more on an individual level. It’s not about our relationship.” I reached over to touch his hand with the tips of my fingers. “I feel like something is missing for me.”

“Adopting a baby is not just about you,” he interrupted. “It’s about us. It puts our relationship in a place I don’t want to go. A place you told me you didn’t
ever
want to go.” His eyes went dark. “There’ll probably be something wrong with Jenny’s kid. How you could possibly want to take that on—I don’t understand.”

“There’s no way to tell for sure if the baby will have problems. I’m hoping for the best.”

He pursed his lips, shook his head in disbelief. “Nothing is missing for me, babe. I love my job, I love you.” Once again, his priorities clearly stated, in case I needed the matter clarified.

“That’s all I need to be happy,” he continued. “If it’s not enough for you, then I guess we’ve got a problem.”

I dropped my eyes to the ground, watched an ant tackle the mighty deed of scaling a blade of grass. I envied his determination. “I guess you’re right.”

We were both silent for a moment, lost in our own thoughts. It was I who finally spoke. “I’m sorry to drop everything on you like this, but being here has changed things for me. I didn’t know it was going to happen. Being with Jenny reminded me that I’m good at helping people who can’t help themselves. It’s what I love to do. It’s why I wanted to be a therapist.”

Shane’s gaze was cold. “You’re not a therapist. You’re a baker.”

“I’m both. I’m just me, Shane. And now I’m going to be a mother.”

He shook his head again, then stopped, raising accusing eyes to mine. “Is this about that Garret guy?”

“No.” I sighed, frustrated. It wasn’t about Garret; it was about me. And I suddenly realized that the man next to me didn’t have the faintest idea who I was. Until recently, I’d barely known myself.

When Shane finally answered me, his voice was quiet, the hurt he felt cast over his face like a thin veil. He stared at the fence as he spoke. “You should probably call the shelter and have that dog shipped up to you, then, if you’re staying.”

“What?” I said, disbelieving, jutting my chin around to face him. “What did you just say?”

He looked at me, contempt etched across his handsome face. “I got too busy with work to manage him, so I boarded him at the shelter.”

I gasped. “How long has he been there?”

“A couple months.”

“I cannot believe you did this without telling me.”

“Oh, well, arranging to adopt your sister’s baby without telling me is a more forgivable offense?”

“That’s not fair.”

“None of this is fair.”

I was quiet, silenced by the fact that he was right.

“Well,” he said, his voice as dark as a black mark against a white page, “this was fun. I’m so happy I decided to come.”

“I really am sorry, Shane.”

“Yeah, so am I.” He didn’t look at me. “I’ll have your things packed and sent to you when I get home.”

“You don’t have to—”

“But I will.” He finally smiled at me, ironically. “Don’t worry. I know all the kitchen stuff is yours.”

He waited for a moment, then stood. “I think I’ll see if there’s a flight out this afternoon.”

“Do you want me to take you to the airport?”

“No. I’ve got the rental to return.”

“Let me walk you to your car, at least.”

He held up his hand to stop me. “I can take care of myself, Nicole. I just hope you’ve thought about whether you can do the same.”

•  •  •

I spent most of the next week at home with Jenny, on the phone trying to tie up loose ends in San Francisco. I arranged for the shelter to board Moochie until the baby was due, then set up having him flown to me. Then, much to Barry’s dismay, I let the bakery know I wouldn’t be back.

“Well, chief,” he said sadly when I told him the news, “I’ll miss our talks.”

I smiled. “Yeah, a couple of Chatty Cathys—that was us.”

“The best relationships don’t always need words, champ. You know that.”

I was quiet for a moment, letting my silence tell him how deeply I would miss him. Then I made him promise to visit Jenny, the baby, and me for his next vacation.

The next call I made was to Garret. I’d picked up the phone several times in the days following the party, but was unable to get my fingers to dial more than a couple of numbers before chickening out. Today, I managed to get all seven dialed, and before I could hang up, he answered.

“Hi,” I said awkwardly. “It’s Nicole.”

He took a moment before responding. “Hi.”

I inhaled deeply. “I just wanted to say … ,” I began, then trailed off.

“Yes?” he inquired, his tone indifferent.

“Just that I’m sorry about what happened. I never meant—”

“I know,” he interrupted. “It’s fine. I’m fine.” There was another audible pause, and I wished I could see the expression on his face so I could determine whether he was telling the truth. Maybe he
was
fine. Maybe seeing me with Shane had confirmed the doubts he’d already had about a relationship with me. Maybe I was the only one struggling with disappointment. Or maybe he, like me, was closer to Nova’s definition of fine: Fucked up, insecure, neurotic, and exasperated. There was no way to tell for sure.

“Look,” he continued. “I’ve got to get to the restaurant. I’m sure I’ll see you at Nova’s sometime.” I couldn’t believe how distant he was being with me. I guess I hadn’t seen how deeply Jackie had wounded him.

“Okay,” I said, the word small and quiet in my mouth. I hung up, disheartened, suddenly lonelier than I’d ever been.

The following morning, Jenny and I headed over to Nova’s. Despite the turmoil I was feeling about Garret, I was anxious to observe my best friend in her role as mother, desperate for knowledge, desperate to believe that I could do with one baby what she did with four. When we got there, I immediately told her about my brief conversation with Garret.

“Give him some time,” she suggested. “I’m sure he’ll come around.” I wanted to take her advice but couldn’t help hoping I’d get a chance to talk with him again, to try to salvage the friendship we had formed. I hoped he’d at least make room for that.

I laid Jenny on the couch, surrounding her burgeoning frame with pillows. At thirty-four weeks, she tired easily, the changes in her body making it difficult for her to walk around for more than a few minutes at a time. I played with Layla, watching as Nova whirled about the house with seeming ease, preparing meals during afternoon naps so she wouldn’t have to think about it when the kids had their daily meltdown. “The whine with dinner hour,”
as Nova fondly referred to it. My friend spun like a dervish, cooking and dusting, mopping and scrubbing toilets.

“How did your mama ever learn to
do
all of this without Daddy’s help?” I cooed at Layla, who gurgled happily as she stuck her fist between her pink gums. I couldn’t believe how much the baby had changed since I’d first seen her at six weeks old. Again, I wondered what Jenny’s baby would look like. Would there be any hint of the man who fathered her? Would she know how she’d been conceived? How would I ever tell her such a thing? I shook my head, reminding myself to take things on one challenge at a time, as Nova had suggested. My priority right now was to get ready for life with a newborn; I was here to learn whatever I could from my friend.

Nova, who stood with a sponge mop in the doorway between the kitchen and the living room, grinned at the question I’d posed to her daughter before responding to it. “She learned quickly that if she didn’t do it while she had the chance, it don’t get done.”

“Do you want some help?” I offered. “I could vacuum.”

“Not while the kids are sleeping. They slept through the noise when they were babies, but not now.” She wiped at the baseboard with her mop, scrubbing at a bright red marker stain, then leaned the mop against the wall. She stepped through the entryway and came to sit next to me on the couch, taking Layla into her arms and settling her down to nurse. Nova caressed her daughter’s downy head.

Jenny snored softly next to me, her dark head lolled against the back of the couch. I smoothed her hair off her face, and her mouth curved into the hint of a smile.

“How exactly do you bond with a baby?” I asked, sincerely curious. I felt like what I knew about babies could fit on the head of a pin.

“Just holding her. Talking to her. Kissing her. Smelling her sweet skin.” She looked down again at Layla, who met her mother’s gaze and smiled back with a mouth full of milk. “Then, of course, you
could
go shopping. Buying clothes for your baby girl borders on being a spiritual experience.” She smiled.

I returned her smile, lightly touching the small foot of Layla’s pink rose-flowered sleeper. “The ultimate dress-up doll?”

“Better than that. You should go this afternoon,” she urged. “I’ll watch Jenny and you can shop. I’ve got baby equipment you can borrow coming out the ying-yang, but you really should get some clothes picked out for her.”