HAPPILY EVER BEFORE (14 page)

 “You make banana and fluff sandwiches,” Grace said as she brought the pizza into the kitchen, “and that is more acceptable than pineapple and ham?”

“Two entirely different categories of food, but yes,” he said as he grabbed some plates and helped Clair get out the silverware and glasses, “okay, who wants a beer?” Jack came out holding a couple of bottles of Coors Light, Henry took one, Clair took one, and Grace grabbed that one off of Clair and handed it back to Jack who opened it for himself.

“What happened to the old--we’ll do this together? I’ll never know what it’s like to be pregnant crap?” intoned Grace.

Clair rolled her eyes.
“Fine.
George what do you want?”

George was now immersed oddly enough in doggie rain slickers.
“A beer.”

They all stopped. Grace groaned. “No, seriously, what do you want?”

“A beer.
It’s not going to kill me. It’s been five months, I’ve earned it,” she said defiantly.

“She wants a beer,” Jack said.

“Well, she can’t have a beer,” said Clair.

Grace agreed. “There is no way she’s blowing five months of sobriety.”

George responded as any mature adult would. “Stop talking like I’m not here. Besides, you’re not the boss of me.”

 Jack sighed. “When you’re a fireman there are a lot of guys in recovery. At five, six months sober they think they have it under control; that they can have a beer or a drink and it can be just one and nothing will come of it. That’s never the case and they end up on a bender to end all benders, unless….” He looked at George who stared at them. “…You make sure that doesn’t happen.”

George made a face at them. “I’m not going on a bender.” George whined, “
will
someone
please
bring out the
friggin
’ pizza?”

Grace sat down beside her dear old friend. “Don’t judge me,” said George.

Grace gave her a squeeze. “I’m no Judy
Judgestein
; it’s not my choice to make. Why the sudden urge for a drink? What went wrong?”

“Nothing,” sighed George, “pizza goes with beer. End of the story.”

Before Grace or Clair could grill her further, Henry came out with the pizzas and Jack came out with the drinks and passed them around. Clair raised her can of soda.
“To the greatest sister ever.”
Everyone raised his or her bottles and cans. “To her soon to be swollen feet and from what mom tells me, hemorrhoids!”

George had just taken a long sip of her much anticipated cold beer and turned to see everyone staring at her. She wasn’t sure if she should swallow or not, but decided too. It was cold and delicious and everything she thought it would be. Then, because everyone was staring, she handed the beer to Jack. “I’m done.” Of course George didn’t believe what she had just said, but she hoped they did.                

After the guys had put together the entertainment center and were run off by chick music, Clair pulled out the check. “You had a check for thirty-five thousand dollars sitting in a box of dog toys?”

Grace watched George catch popcorn in her mouth.
“Yep.”

George shrugged. “Uh, wouldn’t it be smarter to put it in the bank?”

“Yep.”

“Did you know it expires in ten days?”

“Yep.”

“Tomorrow we’re going to your bank and depositing this check,” Clair said sternly.

Grace laughed at the look on her sister’s face, all stern and motherly.

“You’re
gonna
be a great mom.”

Clair’s face crumbled into a torrent of tears. George and Grace were so taken by surprise that they sprang into action faster than they actually knew what to do. George put her arms around Clair and brought her over to Grace on the couch. Grace jumped up, almost knocked over the entertainment center, and searched for tissues. 
“Holy shit!
That was a compliment,” said George as she kept her arms around Clair and gently sat her down.

Grace came back from the kitchen with a roll of paper towels and a glass of milk. She had no idea why she had a glass of milk. “Do you want me warm it up?”

Clair took the paper towels and was soon a sobbing, gulping, sniffling, wet faced,
snot
nosed mess. “I’m no good at diapers and I can’t even…when I dropped, uh, huh, uh,” Clair struggled to catch her breath, but between the tears and the snot streaming down her face it wasn’t easy, “I failed. Babies hate me and now…,” she blew her nose, “are you sure you don’t want to keep it?”

“Uh, no.”
Grace and George traded looks. “Clair bear, you’re just scared; everyone is scared--especially about having babies.”

Clair blew her nose.  “George isn’t scared. George is never scared.”

“Honey, I’m an alcoholic. I drink to abate the fear of just about everything in my life,” George said as she tried to lean back into the couch, but Clair was still attached to her body, so she adjusted accordingly. “Just tonight, you know, after you
sorta
break the habit of drinking like red wine with dinner and tequila shooters with your favorite clients and really figure out why you drink, it comes down to fear.”

Grace sat down next to Clair and took her into her arms to give George, who had to be uncomfortable with her body contorted that way, a break.
“Fear?”

“Good old fashioned--I lost my first account what the hell am I really doing with my life--fear.” Grace knew how much George hated to lose and George knew her friend was about to ask her twenty questions and cut her off. “What set off the waterworks?”

“Last night I babysat our neighbor’s kid, you know, the
Deckers
. They just had their first baby. I couldn’t change the diaper, I nearly dropped her off the bed, and then she wouldn’t stop crying. She hated me!”

“Don’t be ridiculous, she’s a baby. She has no idea what hate is; she has to learn that. She was just uncomfortable,” said George.

“You know your kid is
gonna
cry--a lot--right? And it’s
gonna
poop and you’re
gonna
have to cut its fingernails and pull boogers out of its nose?” asked Grace.

Another round of tears came bubbling and by bubbling we mean snot bubbling to the surface. As Clair blew her nose she sobbed. “We’re having a baby!”

Grace and George exploded in laughter. Clair knew she was being ridiculous. Grace kissed the top of her head. “Why don’t you take a hot shower and relax?” Grace stood up and walked Clair to the master bath.

“Okay,”
sniffled
Clair.

Grace gave her a squeeze. “Just don’t rearrange everything.”

“Can I do the medicine cabinet? I didn’t get a chance to color code the products.”

Grace laughed. “Okay, just the medicine cabinet.”

As Clair shut the door, Grace turned to George and giggled. “And I’m the one with the raging hormones? Hey, are you hungry?”

“You ate a whole pie and a pint of ice cream. How can you eat anymore?”

“
Hmmmm
, I’m craving… cinnamon and peanut butter--oh and chocolate.”

George knew better than to get in Grace’s way when she got like this and followed her into the kitchen. She sat at the table as Grace started pulling a ton of stuff from her freshly unpacked cabinets. “What account?”

“Foster’s Beer,” replied George as she picked the cheese off of a leftover slice of pizza. “We were under review. Companies do it all the time, but I’ve never lost an account and I’ve been under review millions of time.” George started cutting the pizza slice into long strips, “It threw me off, I’m not used to losing.”

As she lined up green apples, peanut butter, mini marshmallows, cinnamon, butterscotch chips, and walnuts on her counter, Grace asked, “
did
you get fired?”

“No.” George was rolling each individual pizza strip up and popping them into her mouth. “But, well, I lost the account and I didn’t care.”

 “Oh, it’s the old--what am I doing with my life if I don’t care about my job anymore?” George had finished the pizza slice and was about to start on the next when Grace threw her an apple. “Core it and slice it baby!” Grace took a bunch of apples, grabbed a bowl and some knives and sat with her. “I’ve done that with every job I’ve had. I may have no skills, well, other than being a librarian, but you’ve got a big ass salary plus all those awards and not to mention frequent flier miles, so if you wanted to follow your bliss you wouldn’t have a problem living off your last three bonuses.” Grace expertly cored the apples. “Besides, you said you wanted to start your own business, right? Well, now that you know you want a change, you can use your time wisely.”

“When did you get so smart?” George smirked.

“When my sister paid me to let her husband knock me up and I went into intensive therapy.”

“She almost dropped the kid?”

Grace cracked up. “She must have shit her pants.”

“Who Clair or the baby?” asked a laughing George.

“Both!” choked out Grace as she convulsed into peels of laughter. Grace finally calmed herself down, but when a freshly showered and pajama clad Clair came walking into the kitchen, she lost it all over again.

“What’s so funny?” asked Clair.

“Drop any babies lately?” asked George as she and Grace howled with laughter.

Clair did her best to put on her angry face…“fuck you”…but she didn’t quite pull it off and soon the three of them were in hysterics.

“Oh my God!
These are amazing,” sighed Clair as she dunked her third cookie into a freshly poured glass of cold milk.

George counted how many cookies were left to make sure that no one ate more than her share and readily agreed. “We need to name them something.”

“Hey, speaking of cookies, you’d better not hurt Jack,” said Clair.

“Yeah,” added George. “He’s a keeper.”

“Will you stop going on about how great he is!” an exasperated Grace said.

“She’s scared,” said George.

“Totally!
Remember that guy before Ray? David, no Paul, no…” Clair said between bites of cookie.

“
Ringo
!
No, no, it was Jason,” said George. “He was sweet.”

“I didn’t feel the zing-zing.”  

“Every guy you’ve rejected is because of the zing-zing. Sometimes attraction grows you know? And, zing-zing, didn’t really help with Ray,” said George. “You started out all zing-zing, but then he zinged...”

“…Into an asshole.” Clair sternly stated.
“A tried and true asshole.”

“Honey, he was always an asshole. It was the zing-zing that clouded her judgment. So don’t fuck this up, okay?” George implored. “A blind man could see you guys have the zing-zing. What’s the deal?”

“I’ve got to finish things with Ray.” Grace knew it didn’t make sense. It didn’t even make sense to her, but it was something she had to do.

“Yeah, well don’t finish what you can’t start,” said George. Grace and Clair stared at her. “What? When you finish with an ex you sleep with them one last time.  Don’t do that with Ray. That is one whole kettle of
crapola
you don’t want to open. As a matter of fact, I hereby decree that you’re not allowed to open it.”

“Really?” said Grace. “Well, if we’re tossing down decrees, you’re not allowed to fall off the wagon. And you missy pop,” she looked at Clair, “are not going to throw the baby out with the bathwater.”

That made George collapse into giggles--Clair and Grace soon joined her.
“Cookies!
Like Mrs. Fields, I sell, you bake!” cried George.

In between hysterical gasps for air Grace asked, “
are
you drunk?” And that started the laughing all over again.

Hickory
Dickory
Dock, the mouse ran up the clock, the clock struck twelve and Grace and Clair were lying side-by-side and snoring away on the couch. George, needing to burn the energy that always overwhelmed her once the moon shone brightly in the night sky, started working on her big idea. Used to drinking while she worked, she went into Grace’s kitchen, opened the fridge, pulled out the last beer,
then
stopped. She longingly looked at the bottle in her hand, fumbled for a bottle opener, and opened it. The familiar crack and
siss
brought a smile to her face. She stood there and thought about all the things that scared her like her parents’ death, being alone, losing her first account, and her own death. Then, there was destruction of the world, trying to land a new account, falling in love, getting fired, the plague, going to the dentist, not being good enough, smart enough, or attractive enough. She was about to take a sip, but quickly poured the beer down the sink. “I am not my fear.”
She then shakily, but with a small swagger of confidence, walked into the living room.

George took in Grace’s amazing view and watched her friends sleep. Clair’s hand was resting on Grace’s tummy and Grace’s head was nuzzled against her sister’s shoulder. She picked up the throw blanket off the ottoman and put it on them. They are brave she thought. They are the bravest people I know. If they can be brave then so can I.  With that George turned, accidentally knocked into the entertainment center and the sound of it crashing into a million pieces sent the two bravest people she ever met running for their lives!

We’ve officially changed the name of the chapter from the Fifth Month to Zing-Zing. You may be wondering why, but as you read on the name change will be apparent. Those that don’t get it ask a friend and if you still don’t get it, wow! Now, where were we? Oh yes. Grace fell with relative ease into the routine of not working. She rose early every morning to workout with her
hottie
trainer Reid, she kept a pregnancy journal for her sister and brother-in-law, she sold everything with the exception of a second set of Flintstones glasses on e-bay, which added twelve thousand dollars to the money Ray had given her back. Grace was good, Grace and Jack were good, Grace and the unborn child of her sister were good too, and at five and a half months pregnant, almost all was right in her world.      

Clair, who had recently undergone an intense few weeks of interviews with the Board of her firm, the Principals of her firm, and any other person in the free world who had anything to do with choosing the firm’s’ new partner, was still haunted by her babysitting debacle. After practically memorizing the entire series of the
What
To
Expect While You’re Expecting
books, Clair was more frightened than she had ever been in her life. She spent sleepless nights contemplating whether she had sentenced her sister to an early death or not. Of course, if she didn’t die there was all that other stuff that would make life after giving birth excruciatingly painful. Another thing that consumed her thoughts was the possibility that she would end up with a mutant child whose head was shaped like a goldfish and had the body of a Doberman. All in all, the
What
To
Expect While You’re Expecting
books were like the original Grimm Faerie Tales where everybody ended up mauled, maimed, or in the morgue. These books boiled down life’s greatest joy to a series of hit and run accidents in which there were no survivors because all of the accidents happened at the exact time a fatal Tsunami hit. Their--everything you wanted to know about pregnancy, but were afraid to ask--advice terrorized Clair. She had panic attacks for no reason, well no reason other than the death of sister, her child, and her sanity. And these attacks of which the fair-haired control freak of a sister refused to tell anyone about landed her in the fitting room of The Gap on an emergency phone call with the NG. Dr.
Yael
, who was in between patients and never took calls at lunch, broke her own rule when her assistant buzzed her that a patient was trapped in the Gap.  “Clair, what’s wrong?”

“An episiotomy is going to kill Grace and loud noises may make my baby retarded,” an out of breath Clair whispered as she sat on floor between a pair of skinny jeans and some basic Gap T-Shirts.

“Is Grace in labor? Where are you? What happened?” Dr.
Yael
asked.

Clair struggled to keep her composure. “I was shopping for baby clothes…” she paused to catch her breath, “…I saw a pair of pajamas with a cotton tie and I realized that the baby could choke on it. Then I remembered what I read about the baby being choked by the umbilical cord and that made me think about the baby’s head and if it was too big it would tear open Grace’s, you know, parts, and she could bleed out and die.” Clair was sweating. She pulled out a Wet One, one of many examples as to why her OCD will make her a wonderful mother, and wiped her forehead.

Dr.
Yael
knew Clair was in real pain, but she was nonetheless highly amused.
“Clair, where you are right now?”

“I told your assistant that I’m paralyzed with fear in the fitting room of The Gap.” Her heart was beating so quickly it threatened to jump right through her buttoned down white tailored blouse.

“Okay, good. And what time is it?”

“Lunchtime.”
She took a deep breath and slowly let it out.

“And at this very moment is Grace or the baby in any grave danger?”

“Why, do you know something I don’t?” asked a panicked Clair.

“Clair,” Dr.
Yael
sternly added, “is everyone safe?”

“Yes.” Clair felt her heart slow down.

“See? Good. Now, whatever you’re reading--burn it!”

“But, it’s
What
To
Expect While You’re Expecting
,” sighed Clair.

“Burn it--now!” said Dr.
Yael
. “That is not a pregnancy guide. It’s a how to give a pregnant woman a heart attack guide. No one should expect that much. Now, what set this off?”

“From the beginning?” asked Clair.

“I’ve got time.” The doctor said as she rearranged herself on her couch.

“Well, I tried to change a diaper and nearly killed a baby.”

Again, Dr.
Yael
had to stop herself from laughing. “Well, okay, something we can control.”

“We can?”
sighed
Clair as she finally relaxed.

“Of course.
You’re overwhelmed about motherhood. Why don’t we get you some skills to make you comfortable with the whole mommy transformation? There are some really great classes.”

Clair smiled. Classes are something she’s really good at. “Like diaper changing for dummies?”

 
“Exactly.
I’m going to put you back on with my Assistant, Rae, and she’s going to give you the information about St. Stephen’s parenting classes, but first can you get up, can you get yourself home?”

As Clair stood up she thought “
classes
give you control.” “I’m good, I think, I mean, I’m standing up. Thanks so much NG you saved me from insanity.”

“NG?
asked
Dr.
Yael
.

Caught, Clair, blurted, “
uh
, we call you Nubian Goddess, Grace and I. She came up with it.” Dr.
Yael
laughed and laughed and laughed and then passed Clair off to her Assistant because she couldn’t speak.