The Year We Turned Forty (31 page)

“Gabriela,” Jessie started once more, then stopped, hit hard by the fact she couldn't give Gabriela answers when she didn't have them for herself.

Gabriela held up her hand. “Just go.”

Claire took a step forward, but Gabriela jumped back in response. “Go. Please.”

Jessie grabbed Claire's hand and their shoes and pulled her toward the door, both of them giving Gabriela one last look before clicking the front door carefully so it didn't slam shut.

The hot June sun shone through the window as Gabriela hung up the phone, her shoulders shaking violently as she curled into the fetal position. She wanted to somehow feel closer to the baby she was now convinced would never be growing inside of her, the emptiness in her abdomen feeling cavernous. Three more months had passed and she was still no closer to becoming a mom. In fact, she felt further away from it than she ever had.

Dr. Larson had called her personally this time to tell her the fourth round of IVF had failed, Gabriela breaking into sobs the moment she heard her sympathy-laced voice.
It didn't work.

Dr. Larson reeled off the statistics of the likelihood of Gabriela ever carrying her own child, and as Gabriela contemplated the percentages, she decided she had a better chance of dying in a plane crash than conceiving. The doctor had talked about Gabriela's uterine lining and how she now believed it wasn't thick enough to support the implantation of an embryo, no matter what drugs she prescribed to strengthen it. That, in combination with her low-grade egg quality, was going to make her
odds even slimmer. The doctor never said
never
, but suggested looking into a surrogate and egg donor. Gabriela almost laughed out loud through her tears, wanting to say she'd also need a sperm donor now that Colin was gone. The doctor had no clue that she and Colin were separated and that he had warned Gabriela that she did
not
have his permission to try again if this cycle failed. He hadn't even gone with her to the last egg retrieval or implantation surgery, calling at the last minute on both days with an excuse about work. Gabriela knew he was hurt after she insisted he move out ninety days ago, and this was his way of distancing himself.

After Gabriela finally picked herself up off the floor, she'd stared blankly at the gaping holes in her living room where the pieces of furniture Colin took when he left once stood, the indentation marks in the carpet still slightly visible. If someone walked in and saw the simple love seat and television that remained, they'd think Gabriela was also in the process of moving.
Maybe she should
. Rowan had come by earlier that week to check on her, a fresh stack of inspirational books under her arm.

“How are you?” she'd asked as her eyes darted around the room, no doubt surveying how depressing the once vibrant space had become.

“I'm okay,” Gabriela lied. She was not even close to okay.

“Have you seen Colin?” Rowan asked. “I really think—”

“Rowan,” Gabriela interrupted. “I love you, but please don't.”

Rowan sighed. “I'm sorry. I just feel so helpless.”

“I know.” Gabriela looked at the deep frown lines around her mother-in-law's mouth. She was hurting too. Gabriela knew she had the ability to take some of that pain away, even if only temporarily. So she walked over to the stack of books Rowan had carried in and pulled out Eckhart Tolle's latest.

“Tell me about this one,” she asked, and watched Rowan's eyes spark as she began to read aloud.

•  •  •

Tomorrow was Claire's birthday and the year anniversary of meeting Blair in Las Vegas. Gabriela's fortieth had passed the month before unceremoniously, despite Jessie and Claire's best efforts to draw her out. Gabriela glanced at the invitation to their joint birthday party on the coffee table and wondered why they were even bothering. Gabriela's mind was made up, or maybe the decision had been made for her, but either way, tomorrow night she planned to return to the age of fifty. To Colin, and to the relationship they used to enjoy. If she couldn't have a child, she at least wanted her husband back, even though she worried she might resent him for leaving her in this life. She wasn't sure being an author was the career she still wanted when she returned back home. But Colin had always been a constant, a steady force in her life. Gabriela recognized she hadn't exactly made it easy to support her, even aggressively pushing him away—
literally
—in her feverish attempt to get pregnant. Thankfully, he would never remember, but she would. She was just hoping she could learn to forgive both Colin and herself, even if she couldn't forget.

Tomorrow also marked the deadline her editor had given her. Gabriela's stomach twisted tightly each time she thought of how she'd only managed to squeeze out about half of the book Sheila was expecting. How could she ever explain to her that all the changes in her life had influenced her writing, and somehow she'd lost the magic she'd needed to craft the bestseller that once sat inside of her? She hadn't told anyone yet, but the day Colin moved out she'd abandoned that manuscript and started
a whole new one that was nearly finished, staying up until all hours of the night in her empty house typing nonstop. Although she had little hope her new work would ever be published, it had surprised Gabriela how cathartic it had felt to write without anyone else's expectations weighing her down. She had sat at her desk late last night, staring at the keyboard, pondering how the story would end.

Gabriela had no idea if Jessie or Claire planned to stay or go back. She had accepted their rapid and insistent apologies, but had avoided seeing them in person—even on her own birthday—when they'd wanted to take her out for drinks, telling them she needed to work on her book, the sting of what happened still pricking her. Gabriela understood Jessie hadn't done anything directly to her, but she still felt betrayed, as if the last ten years of their friendship had been based on a lie. Not to mention she worried what would happen when Grant discovered the truth this time. Because Gabriela knew that the facts always had a way of working their way to the surface, no matter how hard one might try to push them down.

She'd passed on attending Lucas' baptism, feeling she'd be a hypocrite if she attended and helped perpetuate the lie to Grant. But selfishly she still wasn't ready to look into Jessie's eyes, unable to accept how Jessie had
accidentally
gotten pregnant with her third child while she couldn't even conceive her first. She hated to admit it, but it did bother her that the universe had rewarded Jessie's bad behavior with a baby, yet refused to grant one to Gabriela, who wanted it more than anything in the world.

She'd agreed to attend the birthday party via email because they'd long ago made a pact that nothing would ever come between them and celebrating together. And despite their splintered friendship, Gabriela knew they still needed each other.
She caught herself picking up the phone so many times the past three months, only to set it back down again, letting her hurt feelings create an invisible wall between them. But tomorrow they had a choice to make, and she hoped they'd all agree. It was time to get back to the lives they were meant to live—the ones they had left behind a year ago.

The only person she'd been seeing regularly besides the pharmacist at the drugstore she frequented was her father, who insisted she come to dinner at his restaurant every Thursday night. She'd wanted to say no, but agreed, having been so busy last time around, often canceling their weekly dinner dates, ignoring the disappointment in his voice as she'd rattled off her excuses about writing deadlines.

She always forced a smile as she dipped her salty tortilla chip in the salsa, refusing to admit how much the jalapeño peppers were burning her tongue as they always did, knowing her dad would mock her for not being able to handle the hot stuff like a true Latina, her mother no doubt rolling her eyes from Heaven. Last week, he'd asked about Jessie and Claire, and Gabriela had lowered her eyes, not wanting to lie. “What's going on?” he asked when his question was met with silence. “Those are your best friends. And it would seem like you need them now, more then ever.”

“It's a long story,” she had said, and smiled, hoping he'd drop the subject.

“It always is,
mija
,” he'd laughed.

“Can I ask you something?” Gabriela leaned in, the margarita she'd been sipping giving her the courage to seek the answer she'd always craved.

“Yes, of course. Anything.”

“How did you get over losing Mom?” When he didn't answer
right away, his black eyes boring into hers, she had stuttered, “I'm sorry, I wasn't trying to say . . .”

He held his hand up. “It's okay. I understand what you're asking.” He rubbed his mustache thoughtfully. “The thing is, Gabriela, is that you never really get over losing someone or something you love. But the world keeps moving and you have to also, or you'll get lost. Learning to accept things and move on isn't a weakness. It's a strength. And it's what your mom would have wanted, for you to learn to persevere, even when life fails you.”

Gabriela sniffed hard to hold her tears. There had always been a part of her that felt like if she let go of the pain of losing her mom, then she was letting go of her altogether. That she'd fade further and further from Gabriela's memory until she disappeared. “I still miss her,” Gabriela whispered. “Every day.”

“So do I,” her father admitted as he placed his hand over hers. “But don't ever let that stop you from moving forward.”

•  •  •

“Mom? Which one do you like better?” Emily stood in the doorway of Claire's bedroom holding up two dresses.

“They're both nice, Em,” Claire said as she looked them over.

“Nice?” Emily frowned. “You might as well say
totally boring
!”

“What's gotten into you? It's just
my
birthday party with
my
friends you've known all your life. They always think you look beautiful.”

“But
I
care, okay? I want to look good.”

Claire took a deep breath. She was worried about Emily. Lately, she'd seemed to slip into some of her old patterns, being secretive and elusive. And whenever Claire asked her about it,
Emily told her nothing was going on, that everything was
fine.
She'd followed up with her teachers and they agreed that all was going well. But Claire felt that familiar tug in her gut, the one that told her Emily was not being honest.

“Mom, I need you to help me choose one—
please
,” Emily pressed.

“Okay, I would go with the blue,” Claire said as she eyed the navy cap-sleeved dress with the black patent leather belt.

“Not the red?” Emily cocked her head toward the short red sleeveless shift dress with the jeweled buttons on the back.

“The red is ni— I mean, really cute too, but the blue one will bring out your eyes more.”

“Thanks,” Emily said tentatively. “I think I'm going with the red,” she added, and hurried out of the room.

Claire shook her head, ironically having no clue what
she
was planning to wear to the party tomorrow, on undoubtedly the most important day of her life. She'd tried to put most thoughts of the party aside, letting Jessie handle the majority of the planning. She had made her decision. She wanted to stay. Despite Emily's secretiveness, their relationship was sturdier than it had ever been. And things with Mason were stronger than ever. In fact, she sensed he was going to propose soon. But she wasn't sure where Gabriela stood, and because of that, she wouldn't let herself get too attached to the idea of staying here, even though the thought of going back to her old life made her ache each time she imagined herself in it.

She'd still been unsure until she'd driven to Jared's house, deciding she had to see him, she had to know for sure. Even though there was no way he would recognize her because they hadn't met in this life, she'd still kept out of sight, stealthily sipping her Starbucks and reading a book until he arrived home
from work to his house in Anaheim. As he'd stepped out of the car, his front door swung open and a little girl ran out and threw her arms around his neck, squeezing hard. Even though he'd eventually gotten divorced, she remembered he'd told her these years, when his children were little, had been his happiest in his marriage, before they'd started to drift the way people often do, when they forget all the reasons they fell in love in the first place. Claire had felt nothing more than a strong affection for him, realizing maybe that's all it had ever been. At fifty, the old Claire had needed, or thought she'd needed, a man who'd simply loved her unconditionally. But now, after being back in Mason's arms, in his bed, she realized she needed much more, and it was something only he could give her. She decided if she went back, she'd break off the engagement. And if she stayed here, she'd leave an anonymous letter in Jared's mailbox, urging him to appreciate his marriage and his family. Maybe, it would help. Just maybe.

•  •  •

Jessie handed Lucas to Peter and watched as he raised him above his head and blew bubbles on his stomach. She laughed as Lucas giggled in response, glancing around the chain restaurant where they were about to eat, feeling less fear about getting caught than she used to, becoming more accustomed to meeting with Peter in public and deciding people would probably never suspect anything because they were with Lucas. Who would bring their toddler to an illicit meeting? As she caught the eye of another mother who smiled at her, she realized the woman was probably mistaking the three of them for a family. And in many ways, over the last six months, they had become one.