When Girlfriends Step Up (21 page)

“You’ll make an outstanding mom, Robin,” she said sweetly after nearly two hours of conversing. “There’s no doubt about it. You’re going to be a super mom!”

“Hey, uh, Kaitlyn. You think you want to come to the baby shower?” It was worth asking. We’d been getting along so well on the phone, and I was comforted by the fact that at least
someone
in my family seemed to care about me and my baby.

“I’d love to,” she said, sounding taken by surprise. “I would absolutely love to make it. Well, I guess I should let you go. You need to get your rest now that you’ve got the little one on the way. Congratulations again, Robin.”

“Thanks, Kaitlyn. You have a good night yourself. I’ll get in touch with you about the shower as it nears.”

“Yeah, and keep in touch. You know, call me anytime. I’m here for you.”

I smiled. I don’t think I’d ever heard those words from my big sister before, not even when we were speaking more regularly than twice a year.

I went to bed that night feeling so good about the unexpected reconnection I’d made with my sister. And the girls’ words kept resounding in my head:
You’re not alone, Robin. You are not alone.

That weekend, the girls and I, minus Jackie, who was out of town with her new boy toy, made a trip to IKEA, with plans to meet up with Chad and Conner afterward so they could haul off the hoards of furniture that Sophie and I would no doubt be buying. I felt as if I’d cleaned out the store, although that’s impossible; I did have nearly everything an expecting mother could imagine she might need. The all-white and very simple yet adorable crib that I wanted was in stock, so I added that to my list of purchases, as well as a dresser, a diaper changing station, a relatively small but storage-laden wardrobe, and some shelving units.

Sophie purchased more items than I did. She was shopping for everything from bedroom furniture to a dining set. And both of our carts were stuffed with every sort of knickknack imaginable—vases, candles, picture frames and poster boards, toss pillows, small rugs, and of course a variety of baby toys and decorative items—all very colorful and gender neutral. I was elated that I could possibly find out if I was having a boy or a girl in only a few days! Yet, though I was still unsure of the baby’s sex and would know soon enough, nothing could keep me from shopping with my friends.

“You girls really outdid yourselves this time,” Conner said, securing the various boxes into the back of his truck.

“Who’s going to build all this stuff?” Chad asked, running a hand through his sun-bleached, ever so slightly greasy hair. He then rubbed at his face, which was covered in at least two or three day’s worth of stubble. “There’s a ton of crap here.”

Sophie pointed to the both of the guys and said, “Here’s fifty bucks.” She handed Conner the cash. “Go buy yourself some lunch and take my stuff to my place pretty please.” She tossed Conner her keys and quickly told them how to get to her new apartment. “And help yourself to whatever you want in the fridge. There’s a fresh batch of homemade cream puffs in there. All yours if you boys don’t mind dropping off these boxes. Maybe doing a little building.” She exaggeratedly batted her eyes, oddly enough at Conner, not Chad. Although Sophie probably wouldn’t dream of provoking Chad. Not after his relentless teasing her over the holiday.

“Score!” Conner said. He hopped in his truck after giving Claire a kiss goodbye, after which she complained he was too close for comfort—too sweaty, dirty, and in dire need of a shave.

“Have at it, boys,” Claire said, wiping Conner’s sweat from her cheek.

“Let’s go, Chad!” Conner said excitedly. “We’ll drop your stuff off at your place, Robin. Then we’re going to Sophie’s.”

Claire rolled her eyes at us. “Any time Conner gets to build something and pretend he’s frickin’ Tim the Toolman Taylor he’s all over it like white on rice. You’re in luck, Sophie.”

The boys peeled out of the warehouse garage, and we proceeded to our cars.

“You don’t want to make sure they don’t screw things up?” I asked Sophie, as she jumped into my car with me; Claire rode off with Lara.

“Oh, please. And pass up on the opportunity to help you build the baby furniture? I’d much rather help you out. And I’d never pass on some girl time.”

***

“Claire, I honestly don’t think that piece goes there,” Lara said. She was becoming agitated and started to read over the tri-fold instruction sheet for the diaper changing station for the third time. “Look at the diagram. You’re doing it all wrong.”

Claire heaved a sigh and roughly laid down the Allen wrench. “Then you try it. One of you is telling me one thing, the other another. I’ve never built a damn diaper changing station before.”

Sophie picked up the wrench and had a go at one of the legs. Lara warned that she, too, was doing it incorrectly.

“I know what I’m doing,” Sophie said. “It’s common sense. Any idiot can figure it out.”

“Hey, thanks a lot!” Claire crossed her arms and pouted like a child.

“Oh, quit it.” Sophie twisted tightly at the leg. I suddenly imagined the shiny white leg splintering in all directions, then cracking right in half.

“Stop, stop!” Lara said, putting her hand over Sophie’s. “That’s
not
how you’re supposed to do it.”

“Talk about common sense,” Claire said, sticking out her tongue. Sophie stuck hers right back out at her.

“Girls,” I said, leaning against my bed. “We should really make sure we’re going about this the right way. After all, this
is
a diaper changing station. I
am
going to be laying my baby on it. I really don’t want this thing to come crashing down.”

“I don’t think we should have sent the boys to your place, Sophie,” Claire said. “We need them here.”

“We don’t need the boys’ help with this.” I ripped the instruction sheet from Lara’s hands. “We’re four intelligent and educated women. I’m sure we can handle this on our own.”

“There’s so much crap in here,” Lara muttered. “You bought way too much, Robin. There’s no way this will all fit.”

I tossed the instruction sheet aside and gruffly responded, “What the hell am I supposed to do?”

Sophie’s and Claire’s eyes widened. Lara and I didn’t argue often, but between my hormones and her sudden life change, with a new roommate and a second soon on the way, the two of us had it coming at some point.

“What am I supposed to do?” I repeated. “The baby needs a crib. It needs a diaper changing thing. It needs a closet. It needs all this stuff!”

“Yeah, yeah,” Lara said. She roughly snatched back the instruction sheet. “I know you need all this.” Her tone then became softer, and I instantly felt horrible for having exploded like that all of the sudden. “Sorry, Robin,” she apologized.

“Me, too.” I handed her the Allen wrench. “I know my crap’s all over the place. I don’t want to be a pain.”

“Oh, you’re fine.” Lara gave me a smile and started to tinker with the screws. “We’re fine. Hey, Sophie?” Lara looked up at Sophie. “Can you turn up the air conditioner? And Claire?” Claire had started fidgeting with a plastic bag of screws. “How about you turn on some music. Let’s get serious about this
and
have some fun at the same time.”

The girls hopped off as Lara suggested, and she, once again, gave me a smile. “Sorry, girl. Not easy for either of us, huh?”

I nodded. “So true.”

The sweet, melodic sound of The Beatles poured from the living room’s entertainment system, down the hall, and into my bedroom, where it looked like furniture mart had exploded, boxes strewn all over the place and pieces of fiberboard to the left and right. Once the music started playing and all of us decided to take deep breaths and have fun assembling the furniture properly, we really got the hang of things and the quasi-bedroom, quasi-baby room was starting to look up.

“Robin, you picked out some great pieces,” Claire said, surveying the room, which now contained a completed crib and diaper changing station, and a half-assembled wardrobe not far behind.

“Yeah,” Sophie said. “It’s really coming together. It looks great. And that rocker that you ordered online is going to go perfectly in that corner.”

“Things really are a surprising fit in here. When I first moved in and started rearranging I admit I was a little worried, but everything’s working out.”

“Of course everything’s working out. Here, take some photos and send them to Jack,” Lara said, handing me my cell phone.

“She’s out of town with that stupid new guy of hers, hah?” Claire asked. “What’s his name?”

“Andrew,” I said, snapping photos of the room in its current state—somewhat disarrayed and somewhat complete. “Looks like we’re back on track with Jackie making girl functions only when it’s convenient and doesn’t disagree with her flavor of the month’s schedule.”

“Now, girls,” Lara scolded. “We haven’t even met the man yet. As far as Jackie’s told us, he’s a really nice guy. We shouldn’t be so quick to judge, even if her past
can
be telling…”

“A real doll,” Claire said, giggling. “Jackie says he’s the best thing she’s ever had.”

Sophie: “In the bedroom.”

Claire: “In
and
out of the bedroom.”

Me: “Ohh. The real deal now.”

“Whatever ‘deal’ he is, I’m glad Jackie’s happy,” Lara said. “And I’m glad she seems to have met a really good guy.”

“Don’t hold your breath just yet, Lara,” I said. “You know she has a history of picking less than upstanding gentlemen.”

“Let’s at least give her the benefit of the doubt. He’s offered to let her move in—”

“And you don’t think
that
says anything? Two frickin’ weeks!” I was surprised. Wasn’t anyone else mystified by the whole Jackie and Andrew thing?

“Okay, that
is
a little fast. But who are we to judge?” Lara said.

“You’re right,” I conceded. I sent the series of photos off to Jackie, with a little note attached that we hoped she’d make it when it came time to pick out some baby clothes. “I do hope he turns out to be a good guy after all. I hate seeing Jackie hurt
…all
the time.”
 

The girls voiced their agreement. We’d all been there, done that. More times than we could count on both hands we’d carried a drunken Jackie back to her dorm room. Or consoled her as she cried over some frat guy who was two-timing her. Or tried to cheer her up when she turned out to be wrong about the guy who worked the midnight to five o’ clock shift at the corner mini mart. Or took the cigarette out of her hand or pried the cocktail from her fingers, and drove her to our place to nurse her back to health. And, always, always, we’d tell her that she was much better than she treated herself, and that she deserved more. She needed direction, and not by way of a sleazy man or on the way to the bar.

“I hear Andrew’s helping her out financially,” Claire said. “Jack told me he gave her two different credit cards just last week. Both in her name.
His
accounts.”

“And he
is
letting her drive his BMW or Mercedes or whatever she said it was when he’s not in town,” Sophie added.

“Seen all that before,” I sighed.

“Maybe this time he’s not a bad apple.” Lara, always positive and encouraging. “She
is
with him on some island nearby for a relaxing weekend getaway. She’s being pampered and it doesn’t seem precarious or anything.”

“Hey,” Sophie said, putting the final screws in place in the wardrobe. “If we can’t all be treated like royalty, let’s at least live vicariously through Jackie, who
does
get fed from a golden spoon now and then.”

We continued building and moving into place the remaining baby furniture. Each and every piece came together without too much of a hitch—save for a few protests of “not there!” and “don’t turn it like that!” All the while we chatted about Jackie and her new life of luxury.

“Oh and his townhouse! Jack says it’s amazing!”

“What does Andrew do? Do any of us know?”

“She says some kind of a banker. Travels a lot. Or maybe it’s a broker? It starts with a ‘b’ and he makes a lot of cash.”

“Something that definitely pays the big bucks. Apparently he drives a
couple
of blinged out cars.”

“Jackie’s even talking about quitting her job.”

“He
is
keeping her lifestyle nice and cushy.”

“He’s like forty-something, right?”

“Never been married? Isn’t that peculiar?”

“He must have some serious Freudian issues.”

“You never can tell, can you?”

Chapter Fifteen

The summer heat of August was stifling. Poor Lara was nearly chilled to the bone in the apartment, because I had to crank the air conditioning to the max in order to stay somewhat comfortable. My hormones were out of sorts, and the heat and sticky humidity only exasperated the problem. Fortunately for her, Lara wasn’t around the apartment much lately, as she’d had a lot to do back at the office dealing with the big Spokane client; she’d even pulled a few late-nighters.

With the heavy workload, Lara wasn’t able to come to my second and last ultrasound that day, but Claire pounced on the invitation. She’d never seen an ultrasound before, and she didn’t have a problem getting off work an hour or two early to accompany me.

“This is going to be so much fun!” Claire said as I drove to the familiar medical center, parking at a sign very near Dr. Buschardi’s front doors, which read,
For Expectant Mothers Only
.

“Oh my gosh—and you get your own private little parking space. How cute!”

I tried to make myself as comfortable as I could with the dressing gown barely covering my bare butt; there was no real way to feel at ease during these kinds of appointments. The only saving grace was the fact that I would most likely find out in a matter of minutes if I was having a boy or a girl.

“So this is the funny little thing that reads the baby?” Claire asked, pointing at the instrument that did, indeed, do just what she said.

Before I could answer, in came the ever-svelte Dr. Jane Buschardi. “Hello, my dear Robin!” Dr. Buschardi shook my hand and smiled brightly.

“Nice to see you again, doctor.”