Babyland (32 page)
Authors: Holly Chamberlin
“Ma'am?”
Kristen eyed me with concern. Alexandra frowned.
“Yes, thank you,” I told the waiter. I flashed him what used to be a winning smile. I thought of how pepper had been bothering my digestion of late. “But not too much please.”
81
Slam
A
lfred, Lord Tennyson wrote, “In spring a young man's fancy lightly turns to thoughts of love.” Unfortunately, so does a woman's.
lfred, Lord Tennyson wrote, “In spring a young man's fancy lightly turns to thoughts of love.” Unfortunately, so does a woman's.
The next morning around eleven I decided quite out of the blue to stop by Jack's studio to see if he wanted to grab a cup of coffee. Why not? Two colleagues sharing a brief break in their busy work schedules. What could be more normal?
No excuses. No hand delivering what could have been e-mailed, no books to loan or articles to share. Just an invitation to share a cup of coffee.
The door to the loft was unlocked. I knocked lightly as I pushed it open. “Hi, Jack,” I said. “Iâ”
And then I saw that the person sitting at Jack's desk, the person using his precious computer, was not Jack at all.
The person turned and gave me a calm but suspicious look. She had slim shoulders and a delicate neck and a short choppy haircut that perfectly topped a perfect, pixie-like face. She was no older than twenty-five.
“Yes?” the pixie said.
I stood frozen for a moment, one hand still on the doorknob behind me.
“Oh,” I finally said. “I'm sorry. I came to see Jack ...”
“He left early.” The pixie offered no further information. She didn't offer to take a message. She was not Jack's employee.
I wanted to say something, but what? I didn't have the nerve to ask the girl if she knew where he was. Or with whom.
Her wide blue eyes narrowed just a bit. “Do you need something?” she asked.
“No, no,” I said, backing out through the door. “I'm fine. Thanks. Bye.”
The pixie turned back to the computer screen, and I closed the door behind me. I didn't dare linger; what if Jack came back and found me there? I raced down the stairs and out onto the sidewalk. The sunny sky seemed to mock me. Without breaking my pace I headed for my office.
The image of that petite pretty thing haunted me all the way. Was this Jack's latest girlfriend? Was Jack at her place now, waiting for her to come home so they could spend the lunch hour having hot and steamy sex?
I reached my office just as the tears came. What had I been thinking, assuming Jack would be in his studio, assuming he would want to spend time with me? The stark reality was that Jack did have a life and I was only a tiny, insignificant part of it.
82
Ladies' Night In
“H
ow can a cookie be healthy?” Kristen peered dubiously at the plate of homemade no-fat cookies Tracy had just placed on the table.
ow can a cookie be healthy?” Kristen peered dubiously at the plate of homemade no-fat cookies Tracy had just placed on the table.
Alexandra grimaced. “Don't tell us. I don't want to know when I'm eating fern spores and acorn shavings.”
“Just try one,” Tracy said. “Aren't you supposed to be the adventurous one here?”
The Chinese food arrived before Alexandra could reply.
“What more does a girl need?” Kristen said as we unpacked the three large white bags. “Look at all this scrumptious food. Brian's not big on Asian cuisine. I don't remember the last time I had dim sum! Let's go to Chinatown some Sunday morning, okay?”
“A day at a world-class spa,” Alexandra said suddenly. “That's what else a girl needs. No, make that a week, but not at one of those places that serves a lettuce leaf and a boiled brussels sprout for dinner. A place that serves croissants for breakfast, truffle omelettes for lunch, and bouillabaise for dinner.”
“Speaking of things French,” Tracy said, “a girl could use a month-long trip to Paris, with all expenses paid by a wealthy benefactor she never has to meet, let alone sleep with.”
Alexandra laughed. “Now that is a fantasy beyond the realm of ordinary fantasy. No sex in return for a fabulous meal of coq au vin, foie gras, and Grand Marnier souffle?”
“What about you, Kristen?” I asked. “You must think a girl needs something beyond sesame noodles and beer.”
Kristen considered. “Can I say a wonderful husband and kids she adores?”
Suddenly, everyone's eyes were on me.
“You can say anything you want,” I said, but I wasn't able to stop tears from springing to my eyes.
Kristen grasped my hands in hers. “Can I also say that even more than sesame noodles and beer a girl needs her girlfriends?”
“Ugh, this is so disgustingly maudlin and we haven't even begun to drink! Quick, hand me the corkscrew.”
“What about you, Anna?” Tracy asked, tossing the corkscrew to Alexandra.
“Stick to fantasy,” Alexandra advised, handing me a glass of chilled Pinot Grigio.
I shrugged. “I think a girl needs all of it. Chinese food, girlfriends, a spa, and a trip to Paris. And when she comes home, a wonderful husband and maybe even adoring children waiting breathlessly for her at the airport.”
“Hear, hear!” Tracy raised her glass and we toasted.
Alexandra grinned. “Our former so-called friend Michaela would say a girl needs wild sex and lots of it.”
“What do you mean by wild?” Kristen asked.
“Passionate,” Tracy said. “And yes, I've certainly had passionate sex.”
“With your husband?”
“Alexandra!” Kristen exclaimed. “That's so personal!”
“That's okay,” Tracy said. “Yes, I have had passionate sex with Bill. But there were a few other special men in my past. In case you're wondering, I wouldn't trade Bill for the world, let alone one more night with the others.”
“Well,” Kristen said, “if Tracy can admit to having passionate sex with her husband, then I can admit to having passionate sex with mine. Brian is the love of my life.”
“But not your first and only lover?” Alexandra asked.
“No. There were two before him but neither really meant anything. And I never, you know, felt anything. And that's all I'm saying about that!”
“Alexandra?” Tracy asked. “Wild sex?”
“Oh, my, yes. Once upon a time.”
“That's it?”
“That's it.”
“Oh, come on, Alexandra. Tell us about him,” Kristen pressed. “Were you in love?”
Afraid my face would give away Alexandra's secret, I pretended to find a California roll deeply interesting. Alexandra let everyone wait while she poured herself another glass of wine.
“I've said,” she finally announced, “all I'm going to say. Anna? What about you? Have you ever had wild, crazy, nothing's-off-limits sex? The kind of sex that makes you feel like you've died and gone to heaven. The kind of sex the angel has with Prior Walter. Otherworldly. Astounding. Addictive sex.”
“I get the picture,” I said dryly. “And the answer is no. Okay, everyone can feel sorry for me now. My life is an empty shell. My romantic life, at least.”
“Oh,” Kristen said. “You know, Anna, there's more to life than sex.”
I sighed dramatically and put the back of my hand to my forehead. “So I've been told. But alas! I've yet to find satisfaction anywhere.”
“I'm not surprised,” Tracy said. “I always thought Ross's affect was kind of flat. He's very handsome but he's just not very sexy.”
Alexandra and Kristen burst out laughing.
“What's so funny?” Tracy demanded.
“It's just that these two clowns have said the exact same thing. Kristen has even suggested that Ross is gay. In the closet, but gay.”
“Well, that's just ridiculous,” Tracy replied. “If anything, Ross might be asexual.”
“Please,” I said, “you're destroying what's left of my self-esteem!”
“Ross and his dubious sexuality have nothing to do with your self-esteem,” Alexandra said forcefully.
I thought for a moment before saying, “Ross has nothing to do with me at all. He never really had. I think that's why I didn't want to have a baby with him. I think I knew we couldn't sustain that level of intimacy. And that still scares me. Why was I going to marry him?”
“Don't be so hard on yourself, Anna,” Kristen said. “You and Ross might have had a fine marriage if the issue of a family hadn't, well, hadn't been thrust upon you.”
Maybe, I thought. But then I wouldn't have Jack. Not that I really had him. What I did have was the realization that I was falling in love with a man who didn't have any feelings for me in return. Wonderful.
“I know this question is unanswerable,” Tracy said, “but I'm going to pose it anyway. If having a baby with someone is so monumental, why are so many men able to leave their wives and kids?”
“It isn't always easy for a man to leave a marriage.” Alexandra shot me a look I took to mean, My secret is still safe with you, right? I reassured her with a nod. “Sometimes,” she went on, “the marriage just isn't working. Divorce doesn't necessarily mean abandonment. It can be the healthiest thing for everyone involved. It can be the end of a destructive dynamic and the opportunity for a fresh start.”
“Of course,” Tracy said. “But I'm talking about those men who just walk away from their family without trying to make the marriage work. I can't imagine how a woman gets over that. I just can't.”
“It happened to a friend of mine,” Kristen said as she reached for another spring roll. That made four; Brian really needed to learn to like Chinese. “Her name was Joyce. Her son and B.J. were in playgroup together. Anyway, she was pregnant with their third child when her husband just moved out. He didn't even give her a reason.”
“Maybe he had a nervous breakdown,” I said.
“Or maybe,” Alexandra added, “he was just a bucket of slime. Go on, Kristen.”
Kristen shrugged. “Well, that's it, really. Funny. I met her husband once and he didn't seem like the type to do something soâviolent.”
Alexandra rolled her eyes. “He was a nice man. A quiet man. Who knew he had an ax under his pillow? Oh, please.”
“None of us who knew Joyce and Bob could believe it,” Kristen said, ignoring Alexandra's remark. “She had to wonder if he'd ever felt any tenderness for her, or if all along he'd been disgusted by her. It's almost too awful to think about. To be so vulnerable with someone and then to be discarded like an old shoe.”
“What happened to Joyce?” I asked.
“I don't know,” Kristen admitted. “She took the kids and moved to New Jersey. Her parents live there. She just couldn't stay in that big house all by herself. Anyway, I haven't heard from her since. I think maybe she just wanted to erase everything connected to her life in Wakefield.”
“For some reason sitcoms would like us to believe otherwise,” Tracy said dryly, “but in the real world, eligible men aren't exactly beating down the doors of single mothers. Kristen's friend might be single for the rest of her life.”
“Maybe she wants it that way,” I remarked. “Maybe she's through with men. At least, through with marriage.”
For a moment or two no one spoke. I poured myself a bit more wine. Tracy seemed lost in thought. Kristen added more duck sauce to her plate. Finally, Alexandra broke the silence.
“There's another scenario we're not considering.”
“What's that?” Kristen asked.
“A scenario in which the man is the victim or the long-suffering party. What if the wife has made her husband's life miserable?”
“I suppose it happens,” Tracy said.
Alexandra nodded. “You bet it does. Maybe the marriage was a mistake from the start but the husband stuck it out for all the so-called right reasons. Maybe his love for his wife was more a duty than a passion. And then maybe he just couldn't do it any longer. Maybe he broke down or maybe, incredibly, he met the love of his love, the woman he should have married, the woman he would have married if she'd been around when all his friends were getting married and he figured he should get married, too. You know, to fit in, to be grown up. To prove something to his parents who never thought he'd amount to much of anything. To prove something to himself. Toâ”
I caught Alexandra's wildly gesticulating hand in mid-air. “I think we got your point,” I said quietly.
“Oh,” she said. “More wine, anyone?”
“Love dies,” Tracy said abruptly. “Not always, but it does die. Sometimes two people who were in love come to hate each other. Or to feel indifferent about each other. I think that happens a lot more than anyone wants to admit. It's so terribly depressing to accept the death of love as a fact. I mean, if you accept that love can die, how can you ever make a forever-after commitment? And yet, people do it all the time. Over and over again, just hoping the next love will outlive them. Just hoping that only physical death will part them from their loved one.”
Kristen sighed. “It's all so sad.”
“Or all so wonderful,” I said. “Isn't it a testament to the human spirit that we keep reaching for love?”
“That we keep struggling for survival,” Alexandra corrected. “Maybe it's all a biological urge at bottom.”
“It can't be. Can it? I don't want it to be,” Kristen said urgently. “I want to believe there's something noble and fine about romantic love.”
“I don't know if I could stand my love for Bill dying.” Tracy sighed. “Or his love for me dying. Just imagining that possibility makes me overwhelmingly sad.”
“Then don't imagine it, Tracy,” Alexandra said fiercely. “Block it out. Live for today, carpe diem, be in the moment. And in this particular moment you and Bill are in love and your marriage is fine.”
“Thank my lucky stars. Knock on wood and all that.”
“I'm sure your marriage to Bill has nothing to do with superstition or luck,” Kristen said. “I'm sure you guys work to stay in a good place.”
Tracy shrugged. “Sure. But don't you think luck or fate plays some part in everyone's life? The day Bill hobbled into my office started out like any other day. I had no idea I'd meet my future husband at 2:15 that afternoon. How did that come about? Luck, fate, serendipity? No one set us up. No one played matchmaker, which, I suppose, is also a form of fate. Fate personified.”
“Maybe fate explains why some people never find true love,” Kristen wondered. “Maybe they have bad luck. Maybe they have bad karma.”
“I think,” Alexandra said, “that most people who never find love don't find it because they're not looking for it. Or they're not open to experiences that might put them out in the world where luck and fate happen. I find it hard to believe that every single woman in this city is single because of bad luck. Or because of something bad she did in a former life!”
“So,” I said, “therapy or a self-help program will guarantee finding a soul mate? Or at the very least, a summer fling?”
“Well, therapy might help dislodge some unhealthy mental and emotional habits.”
“Like?” Kristen said.
Alexandra considered. “Like, for example, the tendency to date significantly older, powerful men because they remind you of your father, whose love you never achieved because he thought you were an airhead. Or whose love you never achieved because you thought he thought you were an airhead and so you actually were the one to sabotage any attempts at building a relationship he initiated.”
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