HAPPILY EVER BEFORE (8 page)

And, that’s how the Higgins Sister’s made the inevitable jump from now to now what?

NOW
WHAT? Grace didn’t do well with now what. When she was a child, pre Daddy Popsicle, she was the one who would ask without ever pausing for a breath, “are we there yet, are we there yet, are we there yet?” She was impatient and bored easily. Once she learned a task and then mastered it, she had the inexplicable need to move on. Ever since her mother potty trained her at twenty months, Grace was always ready for the next big challenge. The trouble was that post Daddy Popsicle Higgins she never truly challenged herself again--unless it was to a game of solitaire. What’s a girl to do? Well, this girl went back to work. It was
three a.m.
and Grace was exhausted. She wondered if that meant she was pregnant. The baby books Clair had given her to read each stated that being tired was a symptom of pregnancy, but Grace figured it was because the night held, thus far, a sewer explosion, three false alarms, a pretty bad highway crash, and yet, with all that to distract her, Grace couldn’t shake the
Jeopardy
theme song that was playing in her head. Two weeks was a long time to wait to figure out if you were knocked up or if you had to go through the entire procedure another time. Grace and Clair, with the help of NG, had negotiated the three-strike rule. If she wasn’t
preggers
after the third in vitro attempt, the deal was off.

Grace watched her coworkers as they sat off in the corner chatting and decided that because she and Jack had had three official dates
three a.m.
wasn’t too late or too early to call.  Jack was in
Los Angeles
for the next week because his cousin was getting married and he was the best man, and it was only
midnight
there… Well, you get the idea. These are the thoughts that raced through the mind of a hormone induced, practically knocked up 911 Operator. Grace tapped the fingers of her right hand on the desk as she waited for Jack to pick up.

Jack hadn’t expected his cell phone to ring. He wasn’t even sure why he had brought his cell phone into the bathroom to begin with, but he made sure he washed his hands before he picked up the call. “Grace?”

“Yeah, is it too late?”

“For you?
Never.”
Jack immediately hated his answer.

Grace smiled, “well, if it is or I’ve caught you in the middle of doing something you’re not supposed to do, like robbing a bank, having sex with a stripper, or you know, standing in line at an ultra-trendy LA bar with a bunch of supermodels let me know and I’ll call you back.”

Jack laughed. “No such luck. I’m in my pajamas in my cousin’s sorry excuse for a guest room where I’m surrounded by his high-school track trophies and will sleep on Bart Simpson sheets. Right now I’m watching Stephen Colbert and trying to convince myself that if I grab that last slice of pizza I will lose my boyish figure forever.”

“Lay off the pizza. I like your boyish figure A LOT!” Grace said in her best come hither voice, which truthfully sounded more like Bea Arthur than Kathleen Turner.

“Oh, you do? Well, how much is a lot?”

“Enough to want to jump your bones, but not enough for phone sex.”

Jack was mildly disappointed about the phone sex, but reasoned that because they hadn’t actually slept together yet, he really couldn’t expect her to put out long distance. “This jumping of the bones that you speak of--will this happen any time soon?”

Grace laughed. “Get your ass back from la-la land and find out.”

“If I could get on a plane tonight, I would.”

“So, how are the best man duties going? Throw that wicked bachelor party yet?”

Jack chuckled, “not exactly. We’re having dinner tomorrow night at Ruth Chris’ Steak House, then we’re going to the Buena Vista Cigar Club, and if we’re not too tired, we may take in some sort of burlesque show in
Hollywood
.”

“Wow, that’s pretty hot stuff.”

“Jimmy’s a pretty tame guy.” 

Grace grinned. “Well, tame is good-- especially good for me. I can just wipe all those images of sexy bulimic blondes throwing their bodies at you from my mind.”

Jack loved how funny Grace was. “Well, now just because Jimmy is tame…”

“Hey, hey, pretend if you have too. At
three a.m.
, a girl needs peace of mind.”

“How do I know some random stockbroker jock isn’t shaking his booty for you while I’m gone?”

“Trust me. The only person who has violated me this week is my OBGYN.”

Jack liked being in bed and hearing the sound of Grace’s voice in his ear. “Oh, yeah, how did that go?”

Grace made herself comfortable on the couch in the office. “Hard to say, won’t know for a few weeks, but now that the lawyer, the psychologist, and the fertility specialist are through with me for a while I feel a bit used and whorish. And, you?”

 “Well, I wish you would make me feel used and whorish!” He gave his pillow a good whack before lying back. “You’re doing a very noble thing.”

“Am I?” Grace bit her bottom lip. “Or am I just trying to score brownie points to get into heaven while I avoid, once again, figuring out what I want to do with my life?”

“You’ve got to shut off that brain of yours and relax.”

“You’re right, you’re right.” The switchboard lit up and Grace’s co-workers looked at her. “Shit, I’ve
gotta
run. Bye.”

Jack sighed.
“So soon?”

Grace raced to the switchboard. “Yep, call me tomorrow after your wicked night on the town.”

“Will do, will do.
Night.”
Jack hung up. His heart was in a very precarious place right now. And, so, to elevate his pain he went down stairs to get that last slice of pizza.

The call turned out to be one of those this isn’t an emergency
dealios
and more of a, “if I take Tylenol PM with Benadryl is that okay,” questions. Grace decided to spend the rest of her time coming up with a recipe for the remaining food in her fridge. This was a game Grace loved. She was usually pretty successful except for that one time when she only had a bottle of beer, an apple, and a box of baking soda. Not even Bobby Flay could make something edible out of that. Grace loved to cook. It filled her two basic requirements--instant gratification and instant gratification. She was never bored when she cooked. The next big challenge was washing the dishes; a task Grace enjoyed so much she rarely used her dishwasher and the other challenge was fitting all the food she had cooked in her fridge. It was just a huge refrigerator puzzle of fun and cooking completely engaged her. With the shopping, the prep time, the actual cooking, and the cleanup, it kept her busy for hours on end. All in all, cooking was a win-win situation.

Grace went through what she knew she had in the fridge--butter, the usual condiments, bell peppers, carrots, mushrooms, left over brown rice from Ben
Pao’s
Chinese Restaurant, an egg, two pieces of raisin bread, half a container of low fat milk, and a bar of semi-sweet dark chocolate. This would be a relatively easy meal to make and there were a few variations she could try. Fried egg sandwich with grilled veggies, veggie omelet, egg fried rice, and if she wanted she could dip the raisin bread into the milk, make it really soggy, melt the chocolate, pour it on the bread and make a poor man’s bread pudding. Grace was suddenly very hungry when her cell phone rang.  “I want a drink.”

 “Well, you can’t have a drink. Where are you?”

“Home.
I had some stupid business thing and we ended up at a bar. I drank club soda all night and now I’m
jonesing
for drink.
Maybe just a glass of wine?”

“You’ve been clean for three weeks. Why would you screw it up?”

George sighed.
“Because I can.
Isn’t that what I do?”

“Did you call your sponsor?”

“Grace, how long have you known me? Am I the type of person who is going to confess my deep dark fears to a virtual stranger and then call said stranger whenever I get the urge to drink? No. This is just like the time I taught myself how to build a boat. I have to do it my way on my terms.”

“For the record, you didn’t build a boat, you built a toy sailboat.”

“Semantics.”

Grace laughed. “I’m off in forty five minutes meet me at my place.”

Do you have any milk? I went to
Swirlz’s
Cupcakes and bought a dozen.”

“Yummy, see you in an hour.”

“Can I stay all day, eat crap, and watch old movies?” George sounded like she didn’t want to be left alone.

“Of course you can, stay strong. Later.” As soon as Grace hung up with George, her sister called. “Why aren’t you asleep?”

“I can’t sleep and you’re the only one I know who is up at this hour. I think you should move in with us.”

Grace nearly dropped her phone. “Excuse me?”

“It just makes sense. Then I could be part of every stage.”

“Huh? It’s your kid; you’re part of every stage.”

“No, you’ll, you know, have private moments with the baby. When you go to sleep at night or you eat something spicy and it kicks.” Clair tried not to cry. “I’m never going to know what it feels like to have my baby inside my body. I don’t have to stop drinking, or eating cheese, or be careful of artificial sweeteners, or stop running. It’s just not… I can’t help… fuck it.”

“Whoa.” Grace tried to take it all in. “Okay, first of all, I’m not moving in with you. There’s just no way that’s even a possibility. Now, what happened?”

Clair can no longer hold back her tears, “I got my period.”

“Oh, wow.” Grace had no idea what else to say.

“Of course, good old inhospitable Clair lived up to her reputation!”

“Well, somebody’s got too. I’m tired of living down mine.”

“I’m scared,” Clair sniffled on the other end of the phone.

“You’re scared? Sweetie, try being me.”

“I did--that’s what got us in this mess in the first place!”

Grace felt like an idiot. “You’re right. Sorry. Hey, how about if I’m actually knocked up, you give up everything with me? We’ll have sleepovers, so you can feel the baby at night. This way you’ll be a part of almost every single second.”

Clair sniffled on the other end of the phone. “I can live with that.”

“Get some sleep okay?” Grace hung up and looked down at her stomach, “wow,” she thought, “and I’m the one getting the hormone shots.”

After figuring out, addressing, and finalizing the--you’re having my baby-- financial situation, they found themselves back with The Frigidaire who informed them that the first round of in vitro didn’t take. Now, in an odd turn of events Grace was disappointed, Clair was relieved, and Henry thought it was his fault.  Eventually, Grace got over her disappointment, her surprise at her disappointment, was shot up with a second and third set of hormones, and a few weeks later found herself in a white gown, legs spread eagle and staring, yet again, at the mosaic tiled ceiling in the examination room. Clair surmised that her feelings of relief stemmed from the fact that she wasn’t really part of the process. So, this time when the nurse came in with the foreign object and Grace averted eyes and Frigidaire put on some gloves then picked up the foreign object and said, “
try
to relax, try to keep your cervix relaxed; okay?” Clair was holding Grace’s hand.

Three weeks later it was confirmed that Grace was officially knocked up. And, so, the Higgins Sisters officially moved from now to now what to you don’t say and onto the big--you’re having my baby--game board that was about to consume their lives.

“You don’t say?” That was the first thing Patricia said when she heard the good news. The second thing she said was, “so you’re still going through with this?”

At least Henry, Sr. offered his congratulations.  That is before pouring himself a stiff drink.
“Grandpa?
Does the kid have to call me grandpa?”

Henry knew they weren’t thrilled by the idea of Grace carrying their child, but even for them this was a bit extreme. “Is something wrong?”

Patricia sighed, “other than that woman giving birth to our grandchild, what could be wrong?”

Clair had had enough of the Grace bashing. “Grace is making a huge sacrifice for us. She didn’t have to do this.
We could’ve hired a stranger or adopted, but no.
She stepped up because she loves me, loves us. Now, you either accept that or you don’t, but let me tell you this--one more rude comment at all about my sister and you will never, I repeat, never see this child!”

Henry, Sr. watched his daughter-in-law trembling in front of him and felt like a fool. He walked over to Clair and put his arm around her. “Now, let me get this straight it’s your egg, his sperm, and your sister is basically the Easy Bake Oven my grandchild is being cooked in?”

Clair traded a confused look with Henry.
“Uh, yeah.”

He guided Clair out onto the porch that overlooked the pool and tennis courts. “So, I was thinking we should come up with a few alternatives. Maybe the kid could call me Papa Henry?” he asked, as they disappeared into the vast back yard.

Henry didn’t look at his mother. He knew that would be a huge mistake. Instead, as he concentrated on his imperfect rendition of “Twinkle, Twinkle Little Star,” Patricia sat down beside him, took his hand in hers and declared, “I will seriously hire a guy named Big Moe to break every one of your fingers if you ever touch this piano again!”

Henry laughed, “I thought it was your dream to have a concert pianist in the family?”

“Honey, I dreamt of a lot of things, but I learned to give up the unrealistic ones. Apparently, you’re not meant to be a concert pianist and your father wasn’t cut out for the boardroom. You adjust.”

“Well, if you adjust, why are you having such a hard time with the baby thing?” Henry could’ve sworn he’d seen a pained expression wash across his mother face, but she got up too quickly for him to tell for sure.

Patricia grappled for a way to articulate what she was thinking. “I, well, here’s the thing, what if something goes wrong? I don’t want to rain on anyone’s parade, but something could go wrong. Can you handle that, can Clair, can Grace? And, I know you’ve said you’ve covered all the bases legally and financially, but have you really? What is Grace going to do after all of this? I know it’s your kid, she knows it’s your kid, but this is a huge responsibility and at the end of the day you and Clair have a child. Grace, who God willing won’t need a C-section, has forty pounds of baby weight, breasts overflowing with milk, and no kid. Is that fair?”

Henry was at a loss for words. “You like Grace.”  Patricia ignored him. “You do. You don’t think she killed Uncle Harry at all!”

Patricia sighed. “Tell anyone and I will kill you in your sleep. I wish I had a sister that was willing to sacrifice her entire life for me. My sister tried to strangle me in my sleep!”

“Uh, she short sheeted your bed when you were at sleep-a-way camp.”

“Same thing Henry.
That girl has been searching for something since the day we met her.  And this, well, she needs something of her own when this is all over; we should buy her an apartment or a condo.”

Henry, Sr. and Clair walked in on that last sentence. “Buy who what?”

“Grace, an apartment.
It’s the least we can do. She’s giving our grandchild a home for ten months. Besides, she’s not in very good neighborhood and if she’s not moving in with you, well, our grandchild has an image to uphold.”        

Henry, Sr. went to the phone. “That’s a splendid idea, I’m calling Carl.”

Clair looked at her just as confused husband and felt like she’d just been played.

“You don’t say?” squealed Diane, then immediately burst into tears, laughed, kissed her son-in-law, hugged one daughter, and patted the other’s belly. “I’m
gonna
be a grandma, how cool is that?”

“Not as cool as the fact that I’m carrying my own niece or nephew!”

Clair touched Grace’s belly. “It doesn’t seem real yet.”

Henry pulled out a gift-wrapped box and handed it to Diane.
“A little token.”

“You didn’t have to get me a gift.” Diane opened the box, which held a
Zagat’s
restaurant guide for
Chicago
and a book entitled
Going Out Without Freaking
Out
: Doing It Right From The First Hello.
“What the hell is this?”

Grace took her mother’s hand. “Now, I know how excited you are about this whole grandma thing, but first, well, it’s time for you to make good on a certain promise.”

“Oh, no, no, no!”
Diane shook her entire body to get her point across. “And, I actually encouraged my daughter to continue dating you. You’re off the list Henry.”

Her son-in-law shook his head. “Now, a promise is a promise.”

“Yeah, Mom,” sighed Grace, “you told us we must never break our promises.”

“So, next Thursday?” asked Clair. Diane so didn’t like the sound of this. “You said he stops by every Thursday.” Clair added, “Henry went through
Zagat’s
and ear marked some nice places.”

“Yeah, ones that say I’m a nice respectable woman, but I still have needs!” Grace cracked.

“Oh, just leave,” growled Diane.

Clair and Grace answered in unison, “leave? You want us to leave?”

“Wow,” Clair turned to her sister. “We just gave her the best news of her life and she’s kicking us out.”

Henry marveled at their close bond and blurted. “I hope we’re having a girl.”

Clair impulsively kissed him. “I hope we have a healthy child.”

Grace looked around the room. “I hope my water doesn’t break while I’m buying groceries, but what I really hope is that Grandma Diane gets lucky!”

“Out!
Now!”
Diane shouted as the rest of them erupted in laughter.

“You don’t say,” was also the first thing that George said. Because they were at Margie’s Candies, George ordered them a round of black and white milkshakes, a turtle sundae, and toasted to her friend’s upcoming motherhood. “So, you’re knocked up?”

“Yep.”
Grace tried to smile, “and scared shitless.”

“Well, I’m sober. Officially for two months, so join the club.”

The waitress who delivered their order had a can of whipped cream attached to the side of her uniform. George eyed it, “Leave the can, it’s
gonna
be a long night!” The waitress laughed and was about to walk away when George grabbed her arm.  “Seriously, leave the can.” Unnerved, she did as she was told.

“Tough day?” asked Grace.

George took a sip of her shake, then grabbed her spoon, covered it in whip cream and then dug into the sundae. “The thing is I knew this was going to be hard. More so because I’m a social drinker or, if you will, a social drunk not a closet drunk, so the days aren’t as rough as they could be. For the past eight weeks, I’ve moved all my dinners and drinks to lunches because my clients are less inclined to drink at lunch, thank God, but it’s the twenty pounds I’ve put on and the break-up stuff that is doing me in.”

“Huh? Broke up, with whom?” Grace was digging into the turtle sundae. “We talk every day and you leave out a guy? Who were you dating?”

“Alcohol,” George said in between mouthfuls of sundae. “Like with Ray, it’s the stuff they leave behind or in your case the stuff they take that is the hardest to get over. I miss the fun of choosing the right bottle of wine at dinner, the smooth taste of cognac after a steak dinner, and the way a guy smells after a couple of bottles of beer and a game of basketball--all tangy with a hint of salt,
mmm
, like a human margarita--yummy!” George got a far-a-way look in her eyes.

 “Okay, Rachael Ray, I get it. When did you date a guy who played basketball?”

“A girl can dream can’t she?” sighed George. “I’m okay half the time then the other half everything I do, everything I see reminds me of alcohol and that I’m not drinking it.”

“Just masturbate and get it over with.”

George chocked on her mouthful of the sundae, “what!”

Grace laughed. “Well that’s what you do if you’d just broken up with a guy right? It would be either great break up sex or masturbation. It’ll relax you the way alcohol did.”

“You think if I masturbate it’s going to make my sobriety easier?”

“Masturbation makes life easier. ‘
Nuff
’ said. I read that a woman should have an orgasm a day; it keeps the stress away.”

A laughing George sucked down her shake, “you’re serious about this?”

“Damn straight sister!” said Grace as she finished off her sundae. “You’ll be glowing, more relaxed, and, you know, satisfied. Plus, it’s enjoyable and let’s face it, you haven’t been laid in a while; hell, I haven’t been laid in the while and I’m pregnant!” Grace stopped chewing for a moment. “You know a girl can always use a new vibrator. There’s this thing called the Water Dancer that I’ve been meaning to pick up. We should go shopping on the way home.”

George shot a stream of whipped cream into her mouth. “Masturbation--who knew
it
was the key to life?”

“Men,” deadpanned Grace.