Babyland (38 page)

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Authors: Holly Chamberlin

BOOK: Babyland
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First comes love. Then comes marriage. Followed by boredom, infidelity, nasty surprises, and divorce.
In this wickedly funny, tender and true novel, bestselling author Holly Chamberlin introduces four Boston divorcées looking for love, sex, fun—and themselves ...
 
Jess Marlowe
didn't mean to fall out of love with her husband. It just happened—kind of like the passionate affair with a grad student. Oopsie. Now her marriage is over, so's the affiar, and Jess? Well, she feels like she's just beginning. And the only thing scarier than being in a boring, doomed marriage is the strength of her passions now that she's free ...
 
Nell Keats
had it all: money, marriage, two grown children. . . until the day her husband announced he was leaving her—for another man. Now, Nell's diving back into a whole new dating pool (since when did “Let's do it doggie style” become a romantic pickup line?) and feeling her way around. And once she breaks out of her shell, there's no going back ...
 
Laura Keats,
Nell's younger sister, wanted a baby; her ex-husband didn't. No problem. Like a general mounting a war campaign, Laura's on a mission to find out that P.F.M. (Perfect Father Material), a quest that will take her through outrageous chat rooms, singles' clubs, parenting groups, and other disasters, and into the arms of the one guy who should be off-limits ...
 
Grace Henley
is still financially—and emotionally—supporting her ex, a promising artist whose greatest talent was in bed ... mostly other women's. She can't seem to stop listening to his tales of woe, letting him crash on her couch, even lending him money. No more. It's time for Grace to learn to live her own life and produce her own work. But letting go is even harder than holding on ...
 
Nobody said life was fair. That love was forever. Or that
getting back in the game would be easy.
Then again, nobody said they had to play by the
rules, either ...
Please turn the page for an exciting sneak peek at
BACK IN THE GAME
coming next month in trade paperback!
Jess
So he left you for a younger, more beautiful woman. It's a fact; accept it. No one respects a whiner.
—What Now? How to Pick Up the Pieces and Save Your Pride
 
“H
i,” I said, tossing my bag on an empty chair. “It's been ages. Why are we all so busy?”
Nell smirked. “Contemporary society tells us we have to be busy. If we're busy, our lives must be important. Busyness, I am told, helps fill the emotional and spiritual void most of us find ourselves condemned to. Hello, Jess.”
“Aren't you in a chipper mood,” I commented.
Nell just shrugged.
She'd arrived at the restaurant before any of us; she's always just a bit early. She says she was punctual even as a little girl, punctual and in charge.
I met Nell a few years back at a charity event she was co-hosting. We hit it off when a particularly rude woman at our table was told off by the waiter she'd been abusing. Nell and I spontaneously applauded and met for lunch later that week. Though our lives were playing out very differently—Nell was married and I wasn't; Nell has kids and I don't; I teach sociology at Northeastern while Nell has chosen a more traditional manner of career as a full-time mother and volunteer—we had enough of the important things in common to make a friendship grow.
A love of reading, an interest in the arts, a sometimes wry approach to life, and a tendency to applaud when justice is served.
I never really got to know Richard, Nell's husband, the man she'd been with since college. I saw him rarely and my general impression was of a quiet, intelligent, well-mannered guy, a tiny bit hesitant or secretive, or maybe just private. It was clear to me from the start that Nell adored him; they were best friends, really, and for a brief time I was almost jealous of their union. I remember thinking: that is what marriage should be. Somehow, Nell and Richard got it right.
Grace arrived at the restaurant just after I did and took the seat against the wall; she always does. She likes to people watch; she can hold an intense conversation with someone while at the same time noting minute details of passersby. I imagine this ability to focus on one thing and yet observe another is essential when you're a teacher of nine-and ten-year-olds.
Grace and I met almost eleven years ago when I was seeing a guy named Carl, a jazz saxophone player. One night Carl introduced me to his friend Simon, and to Simon's wife, Grace. Simon was a painter, supposedly gifted—not that I would really know; I appreciate art but don't really know what I'm looking at—and sexy in that charming, bohemian kind of way. While Simon was charismatic, prone to dramatic gestures and a roaring laugh, his wife was more guarded in her behavior, self-contained. For a while I wondered if Grace was intimidated by her show-stopping husband, but when I learned she taught art at a prestigious, private middle school, I figured the discipline her job required informed every aspect of her life.
The long story short is that Grace and I became close and the guys didn't last. Carl and I broke up—he was far too carefree for me—and Grace, finally tired of Simon's infidelity and other costly antics, divorced him.
Around the time Grace filed for divorce, Nell invited me to a cocktail party at her beautifully appointed apartment on Marlborough Street. Temporarily single, I brought Grace along. That night we both met Nell's younger sister, Laura, and her husband, Duncan. Duncan seemed a nice enough guy and made a nice enough impression on me. Laura and Duncan seemed well suited, as did Nell and Richard.
Well. It wasn't the first time I was wrong and it won't be the last.
Laura finally arrived at Café Alice. Her tendency to be late or to slip in just under the gate is only one of the ways in which she's different from her older sister.
Nell is tall and slim, aristocratic in her bearing though certainly not in her attitude. She has a delicate beauty, with fine features, sapphire blue eyes, and sleek blond hair. Laura also has blond hair but it's thicker and darker than Nell's. She's medium height and slightly plump in a way that might be a problem later but which suits her perfectly now. Laura's eyes are wide and blue green and somehow innocent.
Grace is small and slim. Her hair is dark, almost black, and she wears it in a bob reminiscent of Louise Brooks. Her eyes are brown and doelike; her style, urban sleek.
As for me, at five foot nine inches I tower over Grace. I've never been shy about my height; I like being tall, though it can be difficult finding pants that fit properly. The rest of me is unspectacular. Brown hair to my shoulders, brown eyes. End of story. Well, I have heard that I have a good smile.
“Well,” Nell said when we had ordered a round of drinks, “I don't know about you gals, but I've had quite a week.”
“What happened?” Grace asked.
Nell told us about the wedding invitation from the Smiths.
“That's awkward,” I said. “So, did you ask Richard to respond?”
“I didn't ask him; I told him to respond. And to explain to Mr. and Mrs. Smith that he now prefers the company of men. Rather, that he has always preferred the company of men but was too scared to admit it. So, what's new with you, Jess?”
I related the sad tale of my conversation with Matt.
“So, it's official,” I said. “We're divorced and I'm single and Matt is miserable.”
Nell, not terribly demonstrative, patted my hand. “I still think we should raise a glass to the whole nasty business being over.”
It had been a nasty divorce, though it could have been worse. Much worse. My lawyer was very good and very expensive. The settlement was fair and equitable; my personal finances hadn't taken too bad a blow, but my insides, my heart and soul and sense of myself as a decent person, felt crushed.
We raised a glass. The toast was restrained.
“Well, I've got some news,” Grace said then. “I've cut Simon off and before you say ‘again?' let me assure you that this time it's for good. No more taking him back, no more lending him money, no more help of any kind.”
Laura frowned. “I'll believe it when I see it,” she said. “Seriously, Grace, sometimes I think you'll be dragging Simon around like a bad smell for the rest of your life.”
If Grace was stung by this remark, she didn't show it. “You'll see,” she said. “This time he went too far.” And she told us about the outrageous charge on her credit card.
“How did he get the card in the first place?” Nell asked.
Grace blushed. “I let him use it. Once. Maybe twice. I suppose he assumed he was free to use it any time he liked. It's my fault, really—”
“No,” I said fiercely, “it's not your fault! Simon is a bum!”
“How did he get away with it, anyway?” Nell asked. “What happened to security measures like a picture ID? Who would believe his name was Grace?”
“Simon is charming.” Grace smiled ruefully. “He always gets what he wants.”
“Until now.”
Grace nodded at me. “Right. You know what the worst part is? The bauble he bought was for his new girlfriend. I swear in all the years we were married he never spent even a fraction of that amount on me!”
“Good riddance to bad rubbish,” Laura pronounced.
“Well, I wouldn't call him rubbish—”
Laura cut Grace off with her own news update. “Duncan was served the divorce papers,” she said.
The three of us just sat there; even Nell, quick-witted Nell, had nothing to say.
“Well, aren't you happy for me?” Laura demanded.
Grace and I mumbled something incomprehensible; I certainly didn't understand us.
“Well, I'm happy.” Laura looked pointedly at her sister. “Not happy like I'm jumping up and down, but I'm glad the divorce is moving along. The sooner I'm free, the sooner I can start my new life.”
I thought for a moment that Nell would have to be restrained. It was no secret she thought her sister's divorcing Duncan was a huge mistake. We all did.
Nell's continued silence was bothering Laura.
“Do I have to explain it all again?” she said plaintively. “It's just that I see myself as a mother. It's what I want more than anything. Why should I give up my dream? What do I get in return?”
Nell pretended to consider. “Well, let's see. How about the love of a good man?”
“If Duncan loved me, he'd make me pregnant. He'd give me my baby.”
“Laura,” I said, finally finding my voice, “if you loved Duncan, you wouldn't force him to do something he didn't want to do.”
“I didn't force Duncan. I gave him an option. Either give me a baby or we're through.”
“That's harsh.” Grace shrugged. “I'm sorry. It strikes me as harsh.”
“Becoming a father isn't like sitting through a chick flick,” I said. “The flick is over in two hours. The paternity lasts until the day he dies. Maybe Duncan just needed more time to think things through. Most people don't respond well to ultimatums.”
Laura frowned down at her Cosmo. She always orders sweet, colorful drinks.
“I don't know why you just didn't get a dog,” Nell said. “You could have dressed him in little outfits and carried him around with you. Besides, dogs are a lot cheaper than kids. No college tuition, for one.”
Laura looked up. “I don't want to talk about Duncan and me anymore.”
“Fine,” I said, eager to restore some peace.
“So,” Nell said with false brightness, “here we are, four single women. Back in the game. Back on the market.”
Grace frowned. “We're commodities?”
“Yes. Whether we like it or not, we're commodities on the market and players in the game.”
“What ever happened to romance?” Laura mused.
I figured Duncan and Matt were probably thinking the very same thing.
“It died a slow and agonizing death some time around the turn of the nineteenth century.” Nell paused before adding, “Maybe earlier.”
“Romance is still alive,” I said, though I wasn't entirely sure I believed what I was saying. Was romance just a pretty word for lust? If so, yes, romance was alive and I'd encountered it recently.
Nell finished her glass of wine in one long draught. “If I'd known my marriage would end in the way it did,” she said then, “I would never have gotten married in the first place.”
Laura gripped her sister's hand. “What about Colin and Clara? If you'd never married Richard, you never would have had the children.”
Nell removed her hand from Laura's death grip. “I know, I know. I'm just venting. You always take everything so literally.”
“No one goes into marriage thinking, hey, what the hell, if it doesn't work, I can get a divorce, no big deal. Not even me.” I laughed; no one laughed with me. “It's so much work even to get to the point of talking about marriage, let alone planning a wedding and a life together. You have to believe that marriage is forever. You just have to, in spite of all evidence to the contrary.”
Nell smiled ruefully. “So, everyone who gets married is an idiot?”
“Blinded by visions of lacy veils and lush bouquets?” Grace suggested.
“Naive?” Nell said.
Laura drained her Cosmo.
I shrugged. “Maybe. Or maybe just hopeful. To be human means to be weak and hopeful. Though hope, I suppose, is a sort of courage.”
“Weak, hopeful, and newly single. Or in my case,” Grace went on, “not so newly single. Just newly committed to getting on with my life post-Simon.”
“You know,” Laura said suddenly, “divorced women with young children are really at an advantage.”
Nell shook her head. “Excuse me?”
I hoped there weren't any single mothers within earshot. But of course there weren't. Single mothers were at home paying the bills, cleaning the toilets, and helping the children with their homework.
“No, I mean it,” Laura said. “Because they can meet divorced men with children through school activities and soccer practice and Boy Scouts and Girl Scouts. Children are even better than dogs when it comes to attracting attention.”
“Maybe,” Grace said carefully. “But life isn't exactly rosy for single parents of little kids. Even if they do manage to get remarried, there's a good chance they'll have to deal with a blended family. And that has to be exhausting.”
Laura rolled her eyes. “Duh, remember
The Brady Bunch
? Blended families can work just fine.”
Really, at times I wondered if Laura's already tenuous grasp on reality wasn't beginning to weaken.

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