Babyland (33 page)

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Authors: Holly Chamberlin

BOOK: Babyland
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“But what if dating older, powerful men makes you happy?” Kristen said. “What if you meet a man who really loves you, and supports you in your work, and who wants to marry you?”
“You have a point,” Alexandra conceded. “Sometimes our neuroses work for us, not against us.”
“In such cases a neurosis becomes a coping mechanism,” Tracy said. “A survival strategy. A means to a healthy life.”
“Speaking of a healthy life,” Kristen said, “and I mean that with irony, has anyone heard anything about Michaela's adoption quest?”
“Now there's a woman who should not be a parent!” Tracy declared. “She's got absolutely no maternal instinct. I bet you couldn't even train it into her. I shudder to think what a child of hers would turn out to be like. At the very least he'd be an emotional cripple.”
Alexandra snickered. “More likely a long-term resident of a state penitentiary.”
I refrained from commenting. Let Tracy and Alexandra have their opinions about the bleak future of Michaela's adoptive child. Would the child that was so briefly mine have been any better off? Would she have been an emotional mess or a hardened criminal, too? Since losing the baby I didn't feel I had the right to judge other people's parental possibilities.
“Anna,” Kristen asked, “have you heard anything?”
“After she tried to steal Ross out from under my nose at that awful party I haven't talked to her. Except for one very unpleasant moment just after the party.”
“What happened?” Kristen asked breathlessly.
I sighed. “I said, ‘Our friendship is over as of right now.' Very cutting, don't you think?”
“So, what did Michaela say back?” Tracy asked.
I didn't miss Michaela in my life and I'd never loved her like I love my other girl friends. But let's face it. No one likes rejection.
“She said, and I quote, ‘Like you matter to me?' And then she laughed. The end.”
“Bitch,” Tracy said.
“Whore.” Alexandra grinned. “Tramp.”
“I think she's pitiful,” Kristen said. “I feel sorry for her.”
“You're wasting your time feeling anything for her. She probably never even registered your presence.”
“Alexandra!” I scolded. But I was pretty sure she was right.
“You know,” Tracy said, “now that you and Ross are no longer a couple, I wouldn't put it past Michaela to make another move on him.”
“Well, she's welcome to him,” I said. “He's single, he's wealthy, he wants a family. They'd make the perfect couple.”
Although I didn't really believe that. Ross, for all his flaws, wasn't a harsh person.
“Yeah,” Alexandra said, “they're both egotistical, shallow, and morally ambiguous. The only problem I see is that Michaela is so much smarter than Ross. She'd be bored with him within a month.”
“Hey!” I protested. “What does that say about me? I was with Ross for almost a year and I wasn't bored. Entirely. Are you saying I'm not as smart at Michaela?”
“No, honey, of course not. But you are an awful lot nicer than she is. You give people the benefit of the doubt. You see the good in them. I'm sure you kept thinking that someday Ross would wow you with—well, with something.”
She was wrong. I'd never expected anything spectacular, from Ross or from me.
“I think Michaela might do well with Ross,” Tracy said then. “I think she needs a man she can easily manipulate.”
“Ross isn't as pliable as he looks,” I muttered. “Look, can we stop talking about my ex-fiance? I'm getting depressed, and that wasn't the point of the evening.”
Kristen gasped. “You don't regret breaking up with him, do you?”
“No, no, of course not. And I didn't really break up with him. We broke up with each other. But the point is that if I'm going to move on I shouldn't be dwelling on my past, right?”
“Right,” Kristen agreed. “You should be focusing on your future. You should be thinking about falling in love again.”
“I have a feeling,” Alexandra said slyly, “that Anna's already working on it.”
Kristen's eyes went wide. Tracy cleared her throat.
“Falling in love is the last thing on my mind!” I protested.
And I knew that none of my friends believed me.
Truth: Falling in love was the only thing on my mind.
83
The Scene
“S
o, how about it? Can I give him your number?”
“Ginger,” I said, “I just don't think it's a good idea.”
The last thing I wanted to do was go on a blind date. But Ginger Matthews, that suspiciously enthusiastic lady, was not to be deterred.
“Anna, listen,” she said. “Tom and I have known Russell for five years now. He's a great guy. Trust me.”
“It's too soon,” I said.
“You know what they say about falling off a horse.”
“I don't ride.”
“Anna, you need to get back into the dating scene.”
“Why?”
“Because you're not getting any younger. If you want to get pregnant again you're going to have to find a man first, and the clock is always ticking. Tick, tick, ticking!”
Maybe, I thought, Ginger had a point.
I didn't need a therapist to tell me that I was making little or no progress in my personal life. I didn't need a therapist to tell me that I had been crazy for quite some time. All on my own I'd realized that the real reason I'd been afraid to tell Jack that I was pregnant was because on some deep, unexplored level, I felt as if I'd betrayed him by sleeping with another man.
I know. It's insane. How can you cheat on somebody you've never even been involved with? Someone you've never even kissed? Someone you don't even know you're in love with?
Someone who clearly isn't in love with you.
“Okay,” I said. “Give him my number.”
Three times in the days before the date I picked up the phone to call Russell and cancel. Each time I called on every ounce of determination in my being and resisted the urge. Look at this as a job, I told myself. Be your own client. Your client needs something; she needs to get over a man she can't have. She's hired you to provide that service for her. Step 1: Go on the date.
Russell Hill met me at Tundra. Maybe, I thought, there's more to Ginger Matthews than meets the eye. Russell was well educated (Harvard undergrad and Columbia journalism); a good conversationalist (he spoke easily of politics and of pop culture); athletic (he told me he rode his bike to work every day); funny without being crude or nasty (he admitted to knowing every episode of
Seinfeld
almost verbatim); and handsome in a sort of boyish, blond way (he reminded me of a young Robert Redford).
He paid for everything. He was a gentleman at the end of the evening. He promised he'd call. And I hoped he wouldn't because the date had been a failure.
Russell Hill, bachelor extraordinaire, wasn't Jack Coltrane.
84
The Morning After
R
ussell did call. I turned him down. He sounded surprised. I explained that it was me, not him. And I prepared to receive a scolding from Ginger.
I thought about the night I told Jack that Ross and I had broken up.
I thought about the afternoon I stumbled upon the report written by Jack's teacher Ms. Sidler.
I thought about the extravagant bouquet of flowers.
I thought about the time Jack and I ran into each other at the café and he'd asked me to stay for a while. It wasn't because he needed my opinion on the student's work. It was, I knew, because he wanted to help distract me from my grief. I remembered his gentle touch that day. I remembered wanting him to touch me again.
And I remembered the fury Rowena and the pixie raised in me.
What sane woman falls in love with a man who infuriates her?
I needed help.
“This is on me,” I said. We were in the bar at Polar. “Consider yourself my therapist for the next hour.”
“Fine.” Alexandra picked up the menu. “Hmm, what's most expensive?”
“I don't care. Order everything. Order two of everything. What I've got on my mind outweighs any concern about my entertainment budget.”
Alexandra lowered the plastic-coated menu. “Tossing away your hard-earned cash? You've got my full attention,” she said.
I took a deep breath, as if preparing for a dive. In a way, I guess I was.
“I like Jack Coltrane,” I said, looking her right in the eye. “
Like
as in—”
Alexandra raised her hand to stop me. “I know what you mean. Well, all I can say is it's about time.”
“I don't know what you mean,” I lied, utterly relieved.
“Anna,” Alexandra said with false patience, “it's been obvious to me for some time now that you ‘like' Jack. I'm not blind.”
“Then why didn't you say something?”
“Anna, dear, I did say something. I said several things, on several occasions. At times you chose not to understand what I was hinting at—”
“See, that was the problem! You just didn't come right out and—”
“—and at other times you took offense at what I was implying. Anyway, it wasn't my job to break up your engagement. That was your job.”
“Hey—”
“You know what I mean, Anna.”
I did know what she meant.
“What if he's seeing someone?” I asked.
“He's not.”
“How do you know? He was at that horrid party with some person in a dress a Victorian fairy would wear. Rowena. I think she's a witch.”
“I think you meant to say bitch.”
“And there was some pixie chick in his studio the other day.”
“They all mean nothing.”
“They all?” I suddenly felt sick. “How many are there? Wait, maybe I don't want to know the answer to that.”
“There are a few,” Alexandra said, matter-of-factly. “Not that many. He doesn't even sleep with them all. And none of them are special.”
Well, I thought grumpily, what does that say about Jack? Was he a cad, a heartless seducer, a lothario, a Don Juan, a Marquis de Sade?
“And no,” Alexandra said. “He's not any of the things you've been thinking. The women he dates are intelligent adults, even if some of them look like refugees from Renaissance fairs. He's very upfront about not getting involved. And don't underestimate his taste in women. It just might turn out to be a reflection on you.”
“How do you know all this personal information, anyway?” I demanded.
“I have my ear to the ground. And Jack and I talk. Sometimes. And no, I'm not going to play matchmaker for you. You're going to have to deal with this situation on your own.”
Okay, I thought. I'm used to doing things on my own. I can handle this. “So, he's never ...”
Alexandra smirked annoyingly. “Never what?”
“You know. Has he ever said anything about me? About being interested in me?”
“Of course not. He's not in high school, Anna, and neither are you, which is why I'm staying out of this. I'm not cut out to be a messenger of love. Can you picture me in Cupid's wings?”
I sat silently for a moment or two. My emotions were rioting.
“What if Jack is just a rebound?” I asked suddenly. “What if I'm only interested in him because I'm upset about breaking up with Ross? What if I'm into Jack just because he's there?”
Alexandra sighed dramatically. “Anna, you have got to stop thinking so much and just act. Talk to Jack. Jump him. Do something. Besides, your feelings for Jack are real. They have nothing to do with a rebound.”
“How can you be so sure?” I demanded.
“Because there has to have been something against which to bound. What I mean is, you and Ross had nothing. Not really. How can you react against an experience you never experienced?”
“That's a horrible thing to say,” I said, “and yes, I do know what you're getting at, even if your language skills seemed to have failed you. Ross and I were a couple for almost a year. We were engaged. Of course we had something! We had a relationship.”
“Not much of one,” Alexandra said. “Admit it, Anna. You were sleepwalking through that so-called relationship. It never really touched you. Not where it counts. Look, you're so much more than Ross. It might have worked if he'd known that and appreciated it. But Ross never could see you for all you are. It's just not in him. And because of that the relationship was, well, it wasn't much of anything.”
I knew Alexandra had a point. And it infuriated me.
“I can't believe you're dismissing a year of my life!” I cried. The bartender shot me a look, which I ignored. “How dare you. Did I ever tell you that you were wasting your time waiting around for some married man to dump his wife and appear on your doorstep? Wait a minute. How could I have? You never told me about Luke, not until I dragged it out of you. You were lying to me about your love life.”
“I was keeping a secret,” she said. “That's not a crime.”
“Well, maybe it should be,” I said, petulantly. “Friends shouldn't have secrets from each other. I thought you were one person, and then I found out you were someone else entirely.”
“You've conveniently gotten away from the topic,” Alexandra said calmly. “Look, I'm sorry about what I said. Yes, you and Ross had a relationship, and it was real. Fine. But my original point still stands. You're overthinking this thing with Jack. You're not trusting your feelings, and how can you? You've never done it before, you have no practice. Your decision to marry Ross was made with your head, not your heart.”
“I loved Ross,” I lied. I knew Alexandra wasn't fooled.
“You knew all along I didn't think Ross was the one for you. So what? Nothing's changed. Why get mad at me now?”
Why, indeed? Because now that Ross and I were over there was nothing tangible in the way of my reclaiming my life—or maybe claiming it for the first time. There was nothing tangible in the way of my pursuing a relationship with Jack Coltrane. There was nothing in the way of my future but my fears. And they seemed very tangible.
“I'm not mad at you,” I mumbled.
“Yes, you are,” she said. “But that's okay. I can be horrible.” Alexandra reached for her bag. “Look, honey, I think I'll just go straight to Luke's now. Do yourself a favor and think about what I've said.”
I watched as Alexandra left the restaurant, on her way to meet her lover. I almost hated her at that moment. Almost.

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