Babyland (37 page)

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Authors: Holly Chamberlin

BOOK: Babyland
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“Okay. You're right. I'm going.”
I watched as Jack greeted the well-wishers; I watched as they touched his arm and leaned in close, eager to have a part of him. Oh, I thought, now I know what it means to be heartbroken.
92
New Day
“I
'll lock up. Go home, get some sleep. You've got to catch that flight.”
Jack hopped up onto the empty drinks table. “No, I don't.”
“What?” I was bone tired; it was two o' clock in the morning. It was understandable that I questioned my hearing.
“I cancelled it.”
“You what?”
“I cancelled my flight to the West Coast.”
“What does that mean?” I asked stupidly. “That you're not going today but you're going next week? And why are you grinning like that?”
“No, Anna. It means that I'm not going at all. And I'm grinning because I'm happy. Is that all right with you?”
I shook my head but it didn't clear the fog that had settled there. “Yes, fine, of course,” I said. “But what about your new job?”
Jack's grin got even wider. “I quit yesterday morning. Well, as soon as it was morning in San Francisco. The partners weren't pleased, but I have a good lawyer. He'd built in a sort of escape clause in my contract and—enough of the boring details. I'm out of the agreement.”
“Oh. So ...” So, last night, I thought, last night, when we were together, Jack knew he wouldn't be leaving town ...
“And I cancelled the moving company. They weren't going to ship my stuff out until next week anyway, so it was no big deal.”
“It's not like you'd even packed,” I said automatically.
Jack laughed. “How did you know I hadn't packed?”
“Good guess.”
And something Alexandra had said weeks earlier came to me then. Life, she'd exclaimed, was deliciously uncertain. At the time I'd thought she was being overly dramatic. But now?
Look before you leap, Anna.
It was too late for that, especially after the previous night at Jack's. It was time to throw every last bit of caution to the wind.
“Jack,” I said, “I love you. I'm in love with you, and I have been for a long time only I didn't understand what it all meant. My feelings, I mean. I've never been good with feelings.”
Jack hopped off the table and took a step toward me. “Anna, I—”
“Wait. You don't have to say anything you don't mean. Not that you would, of course, but I'll be okay. I mean, I never assumed you felt the same way about me. You don't have to feel any obligation to me or—”
Jack took another step toward me. “Anna, will you shut up, please?”
“All right but—”
And then he was just a foot away from me, and then less. “Why the hell do you think I'm staying here in Boston? Because I love the Red Sox?”
“Because of your work?” I whispered. I didn't dare to believe what I thought might be happening.
“Right.” Jack laughed. “People get married in every city, Anna. People have birthdays and retirement dinners and Sweet Sixteen parties.” He kissed me then, and I knew. “Anna, I'm staying here because of you. I need to be near you. I love you. Why do you think I was skipping town in the first place? I couldn't stand to see you every day and know I couldn't be with you.”
“And that I was married to Ross,” I said.
“Oh, yeah, that, too.”
“You just said you love me.”
“I did. Anna, you don't let me get away with being the guy who avoids his own life. I know it sounds selfish; it is selfish. I get so much from you. What do you get from me? I mean it. I'm not fishing for compliments here. But really, give me a clue.”
I grinned. “Let's see, where should I begin? You don't let me get away with being the woman who avoids her own life. You're never boring. You've got a gorgeous face. Your hands are magic. You make me feel things I've never felt before. You—”
“Stop,” he said. “You're embarrassing me. I mean, I'm a guy and I've got a guy's big delicate ego, but enough is enough. I'll be unbearable.”
“You're already unbearable. It's part of your charm.” And then I began to laugh. The enormity of what Jack had done finally hit me. “You didn't know if I felt the same way,” I said. “And yet you quit your job just like that. You took a huge chance, Jack. You're crazy.”
“Look who's talking. You're getting to be more of a loud pushy broad every day. First you demand I have sex with you—”
“I never demanded. Exactly.”
“Well, you presented a pretty irresistible argument.”
“What if I get too loud and pushy?”
“Won't happen.” Jack kissed me again, then said, “You're still Anna. You'll always be Anna. You're changing, but you're still and always Anna.”
93
Wonder
L
ater that night, early morning really, we lay in Jack's bed, looking at the ceiling, looking at each other, talking.
“Why was it so hard to get together?” I asked.
“I don't know,” Jack said. “I'm a little rusty in the love business. Anyway, I enjoy a challenge. I'm not complaining.”
“We got what we wanted so what difference does it make how we got it. Is that it?”
“Sure. That sounds okay.”
“And it doesn't matter,” I said, “that we didn't even know what we wanted until we almost lost it?”
“Correction. You didn't know what you wanted. I knew all along what I wanted.”
“Oh, yeah?” I challenged. “Then why didn't you just grab it? It would have saved us an awful lot of time and miscommunication and loneliness.”
Jack raised an eyebrow at me. I must, I thought, learn that trick.
“Yeah. That would have worked just fine. I'm not a pirate, Anna. I don't see something—or someone—I want and proceed to pillage, plunder, and rape.”
“I guess I wouldn't have liked a strong-arm approach,” I admitted. “But when Ross and I broke up ...”
Jack stroked my hair and looked me right in the eye. “What kind of a man would I be if I'd swooped in for the kill when you'd just gone through so much grief?”
I thought about it for a split second. “Not much of a man.”
“Besides,” he said, a sly smile creeping across his face, “I was pretty convinced you had no feelings for me. Other than contempt and scorn, that is.”
“That's not fair!” I protested.
“I know. I'm just teasing. But you didn't give anything away, Anna. I figured that even if I waited a decent amount of time before saying something I'd still be rejected.”
I thought about all the miscommunication and said, “Do you think our coming together was so hard because we're both so damaged?”
“No,” Jack said definitively. “Maybe it took some time because like all human beings we can be stupid and pathetic. But not damaged. I think both of us have a hard time believing we can be happy. Happiness smiles right at us, and instead of smiling right back we turn our heads.”
I rolled over and threw my arm across Jack's chest. It felt so good to hold him.
“Maybe we won't do that any longer. Maybe we've finally learned that we can be happy.”
“I damn well hope so, Anna, because I'm not getting any younger.”
“Well, neither am I. But thanks for not pointing that out.”
“I'm not entirely stupid when it comes to women. I know you don't talk about a woman's age.”
“Not entirely stupid, no. But you still need to learn the social graces.” And then I considered. “You probably never will learn, will you?”
Jack shook his head. “Probably not. I'm an old dog, Anna. No new tricks. Well, at least regarding manners.”
We were quiet for a time and then I said, “They say timing is everything.”
“It's something,” Jack agreed. “It's important.”
“I saw that report,” I blurted. “From a summer program you went to as a little boy. I read it.”
Jack laughed. “I'd better watch what I leave around. On second thought, you can see everything. I have nothing to hide. So, it sounded like I was a real pain-in-the-ass kid, huh?”
“Yeah,” I said, “it did. Nothing much has changed, you know?”
“I'd argue if I could. My mother sent that report to me. She was cleaning out the attic and found that and a bunch of other stuff. She said it gave her a real laugh. My mother never lets me get away with anything, either. That's one of the reasons I love her. And yes, you'll meet her.”
“I didn't ask to meet her,” I said, all innocent.
“It was all over your face. She'll like you. As long as you continue to be you.”
“Deal.”
I wondered, Was our story the kind you could tell the grandchildren? Probably not, at least not until they were old enough to be embroiled in wrong-headed love affairs of their own. Miscarriage, a broken engagement, an unknown child, betrayal. And all the while the right person right under your nose.
No, I thought. Our story was not suited for the very young. Besides, who said there would even be children, let alone grandchildren?
Suddenly, Jack leaned up on one arm and looked down at me. “Look, Anna,” he said, “I don't like talking about my feelings. But there's something I just have to say. This might be the last time you'll ever hear me talk this way.”
“Okay,” I said.
“Anna, you're like ... It's like you're my air. You allow me to breathe. Because of you I can breathe. You're my soul or my spirit. You're something ethereal but at the same time absolutely necessary. You're vital to me.”
I used to resent the body. I used to wish for it to go away. But not anymore.
“Can I tell you what you are for me?” I said. “You're like my stomach. Something solid and essential and not at all ethereal.”
“Your stomach?” Jack grimaced and fell back onto the bed. “Well, at least you didn't say your small intestine.”
“Okay, then,” I said, laughing, “my heart, but not in a goopy, Valentine's Day kind of way. You're my heart for what it really is. A vital organ. The thing that works for me, the thing with weight and presence. You ground me.”
“Are you saying I hold you down?”
“No. Grounding isn't repressing. You're like an anchor, something that keeps me from floating away and avoiding the real stuff of life.”
“Okay,” Jack said. “Now can we end this conversation before Hallmark offers us a writing contract?”
“Deal.”
“And we'll never speak of this again?”
“Speak of what?”
Jack pulled me onto him. “That's one of the things I like about you, Traulsen,” he said. “It might take you some time, but when you finally get something, you really get it.”
94
Checking In
A
lexandra was right all along. You just don't walk away from love.
Jack stayed in Boston and gradually cut back on his event photography business so that he could spend more time pursuing his own work. Within a week he moved his personal belongings from his giant loft into my apartment. As soon as my lease was up I moved my office into the loft. There's plenty of room in each place for our accumulated possessions. (Jack even likes the badly gilded horse with the clock in its stomach; he's got it on his bedside table.)
Anna's Occasions is still going strong. I've taken on an intern, a young woman still in college. Her help has allowed me to act as Jack's manager. He's had a few shows already, one in New York and another in Connecticut. Sales have been strong, but the money isn't why Jack does what he does. He does it because he loves it; he does it because he has to. And most of what he earns from this work goes into a college fund for Heath.
Jack, it turns out, is indeed Heath's father. How we came to learn the truth is a long and messy tale. Suffice it to say that together we faced down Leslie Curtin, Heath's mother, and won.
Jack and I spend days and nights together, working, sleeping, eating, arguing, laughing, being in love and loving each other.
Marriage?
We're in no rush to tie the knot. We're entirely committed to each other; we'll make our union legal someday. The word
elopement
has been spoken, and I think it's a good one. Maybe we'll get married in Ireland. Both Jack and I have always wanted to go there. I'll be sure to send my parents a postcard.
Children?
I would love to have a child with Jack, but sometimes we just don't get what we want. And sometimes we get it when we least expect it. The traumatic experience of discovering Heath's existence in the way he did, and the struggle to be allowed access to his son, has wearied Jack. For now, at least, we're committed to each other and to getting to know Heath and our family seems whole.
Did I mention that family now includes a ninety-pound, very messy black Lab named James?
Katie and Alma continue to thrive. They bought a building in Dorchester, made some minor repairs, and flipped the unit for a very nice sum. Emilio is off to preschool and loving it. Although they never met Ross, Katie and Alma declare that Jack is a million times the better man. I suspect one reason for their enthusiastic approbation is Jack's skill with the grill. Yes, I finally bought a charcoal grill, and Jack has proved he possesses yet another valuable manly talent. I don't know how the neighbors on either side of us feel about our boisterous year-round grill fests on the roof deck, but we certainly enjoy them.
My brother and his wife continue to live their hectic lives. I wish Paul would meet someone, fall in love, maybe even get married again, but I don't see any sign of that happening for a long, long time. It makes me sad. Bess and I have gotten past most of our post-divorce awkwardness; my own troubles helped me to understand something of what Bess has gone through. Now, at least, Bess and I have something in common. Painful experiences that seem to have left us smarter people. For my part, I've made a conscious effort to get to know Matthew and Emma better; Bess has been open to that. Maybe someday I'll even be brave enough to babysit.
Kristen is starting to prepare for a return to work—paying work, that is—once B.J. goes off to daycare six months from now. Job hunting is going to be a logistical hell; adjusting to the life of a career woman with three young children is going to be almost as difficult. But she'll make it work. I have a lot of confidence in my friends.
Jack, it turns out, is quite handy with a hammer. He and Brian spend one Saturday afternoon a month working away on the old Victorian. Afterward, while the men sit in front of the TV, grunt, eat pretzels, drink beer, and probably scratch, Kristen and I sit in the kitchen and chat over a glass or two of wine. This part of our life isn't exactly glamorous but it is entirely wonderful.
I can't resist reporting that Michaela finally gave up her quest for a child. I'm not sure why, exactly. Rumor has it that she was turned down by every legitimate adoption agency as “unfit,” but I suspect that particular rumor was started by one of her many enemies. Like the twenty-something DAR member whose boyfriend Michaela dramatically stole while the entire guest list of a black-tie fund-raiser watched in titillated embarrassment.
I don't know how Michaela feels about losing the fight for a child, but I have no doubt that no matter how many enemies she makes, she'll survive to fight another battle another day. I just won't be there to witness her triumphs or failures.
Which leads me to the struggle I am witnessing. Tracy and Bill haven't been able to get pregnant, yet. They've pursued a few of the most common therapies but without any luck. I don't know how much longer they'll continue to try to have a child. I don't quiz Tracy on every little step she takes on this difficult road. I do, however, see that the process is taking a toll on her; she doesn't smile as often as she used to, and her face is bordering on gaunt.
Sometimes I wonder if it would have been better if she'd never tried; I wonder if she should just have let it go. Maybe, I think, Tracy should have resigned herself to not giving birth to her own child; maybe she should have learned to be satisfied by what she already had—a good marriage, a career, friends. And then I take myself to task for forgetting, even for a moment, that at some point or another every single one of us is compelled to pursue what we really and truly need to be happy.
Or what we think we need.
And Alexandra? My dearest friend is still blissfully happy. Well, as blissfully happy as it's in her to be. She and Luke are weathering his divorce and all the emotional horrors that go along with the legal proceedings, but they're together, finally, and that's all that seems to matter to them.
Of course, they get on each other's nerves and fight over the things every couple fights over. “It took me about a month,” Alexandra told me once, “before I remembered in full-blown detail all the things about Luke that drive me crazy. Anna, I swear I want to kill him at least once every three days. But isn't it fantastic that now I actually have the opportunity! I mean he's right there next to me in bed. I can reach right over and strangle him. I am a very lucky woman.”
I hope she is. I like Luke, really, but I still harbor, maybe unfairly, a small doubt about his character. I suppose he'll have to prove to us that he's a good man. He did give Alexandra a lovely antique engagement ring as a token of his renewed devotion. That's a start.
Did I mention that Alexandra is now always on time?
Ross Davis. Well, Ross got married not quite six months after we broke up. I hear his wife is very sweet, very blonde, and currently very pregnant. She's only twenty-four. She is not wearing the three-carat emerald cut diamond ring that once was mine, but she is living with Ross in the apartment I once thought would be mine.
Which is fine because the life I'm living now is my own. Totally and completely my own real life, and Jack is an integral part of that, as I'm an integral part of his own real life.
The small reunion party I arranged for Mrs. Kent was a success. Occasionally, Mrs. Kent sends me a handwritten note on her personalized stationery. The note always ends with the same phrase: “Carpe diem, my dear Anna. Carpe diem.”
I think sometimes of Mrs. Kent's lost daughter. I think a lot about my own lost child.
One last note. Those awful nightmares, the ones about not being able to speak, about choking, about not being able to see, are becoming just nasty memories. Someday, I hope, I'll be free of them entirely, but I suppose they still have a few lessons to teach me before they retire.
So, that's it. That's my story, so far. Life, as you know, is deliciously uncertain.

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