Love and Miss Communication (22 page)

Her stomach flip-flopped. Had he noticed that she never used the computer? That she delegated all Internet work to a high school senior on probation? That she interrogated the poor kid about his mother, a Brighton trustee, every chance she got? She followed him into his office, anxiously reliving the moment the partnership committee announced she was caput.

“Have a seat,” he said, and she settled into a leather armchair opposite his desk.

“Evie, what can I say? Your work has been exceptional. We are all very impressed with the way you have handled the contract negotiations and dealt with the sometimes difficult members of our board. I know Julianne was very impressed with you. We’re hoping you will consider accepting our offer of full-time employment. Initially, we were looking for someone with experience in
the education sector, but I just don’t think it’s necessary. You’ve been fantastic.”

Evie exhaled deeply. She wasn’t being reprimanded. Thane had no idea she was lawyering like a Luddite or that she was using her “intern” (as she’d taken to thinking of Jamie) inappropriately. On the contrary, she was being commended. It felt so nice to have her hard work and skills appreciated that it took a moment to sink in that she had a decision to make.

“So what do you say? I know we can’t pay you like your firm did, but your hours would be a heck of a lot better and you’d have a great deal of autonomy.”

And I’d get to work for someone who wears bow ties and elbow patches every day, Evie thought, looking at the professorial-looking Thane. Brighton, and especially Thane, had her pining for her college days—a happier time, and definitely a calmer period in her life, when she didn’t feel like the clock was running out on her to GET THINGS DONE. A period of her life when dating was for fun, not for marriage, and friends were drinking partners—not life coaches. The offer was certainly worth consideration.

“I’m very flattered. But I need time to think it over.”

“Of course. Take a week or two. We’d love to have you on board.”

Back at her desk, Evie found Jamie in his cube listening to his iPod. He pulled out his earbuds when he saw her.

“In trouble with Headmaster Tame?” he teased.

“No, quite the opposite. He offered me a full-time job.”

“Congrats. You gonna take it?”

“I’m not sure. Lots to think about.”

“This place is pretty cool. I mean, they let me work here instead of—”

“Jamie,” she interrupted. “I need help hanging these posters
in Mrs. Loo’s classroom. I can’t leave them lying around the office anymore.”

“Sure, let me get those for you,” he said, lifting up two of the frames and trotting alongside her up the stairwell.

# # #

“I guess a hammer and nails would have been useful,” Evie said, a touch out of breath. “Not sure why I didn’t think of that.”

After an unsuccessful stop in Tracy’s classroom, she and Jamie were cramped into the supply closet, located in the school’s subcellar. He was on a stepladder fishing through a toolbox.

“It’s cool,” Jamie said. “I was planning to skip Spanish anyway.”

“Sorry about the trek up and down the three flights. I know these posters are heavy.”

“I don’t mind at all. But you look like you’re freezing down here.”

She was. There was no heat in the basement, and Evie was wearing a thin blouse.

“Take my sweatshirt,” he said, offering her a generously sized zip-up.

She slipped it on gratefully.

“Hey! I found something,” he said, producing hooks and a bag of nails. “Now we just need a hammer.”

He climbed off the ladder and started opening random boxes. Evie did the same, and together they combed the four-by-six storage shed, bumping into each other apologetically.

“I think I see one,” he said, reaching for the box behind Evie’s back.

“Great, because I’d love to get this done today. Tracy, I mean Mrs. Loo, is going to have the baby any day and I’d really love it if—hey, what are you doing?” she shrieked.

Jamie had snaked his hand up the back of her shirt. He was fumbling with her bra clasp. Before she could say another word, his mouth was on hers.

His lips felt plump, the skin around them baby smooth. She almost did it. She almost kissed back. Jamie, after all, was not your average hormonal, acne-laden teen. How easy it would have been to meet his tongue with hers. To have a victory over Eleanor, and a symbolic win over Cameron Canon. But no. It wasn’t okay, no matter how fabulous his mother was. She was not going to make out with a student. That was sick.

“Jamie, stop it. This can’t happen.” She pushed him off of her.

“Don’t worry, I’m eighteen,” he said, lunging back at her.

“That is not the issue,” she said.

“Then why not?” he whined, like a little boy used to getting whatever he wanted. “You’ve been leading me on for months.”

“I’ve what? No I haven’t!”

“You ask me to send e-mails for you. Seriously? That’s clearly just a way to have us work together. And the other day you asked me to describe my bedroom to you.”

“That’s because of your mom! I worship Julianne Holmes-Matthews. I was curious how your room was decorated.”

He looked so hurt and confused, Evie actually felt sorry for him. What had she done?

“What about all the touching in the office?”

That part was true. Their flimsy excuses to touch each other (“You dropped something . . . There’s a thread on your pants . . . Here let me help you with that”) were as transparent as they come.

She had just wanted to feel another human. Was that a crime? Jamie represented something she felt she’d no longer be able to attain at her age—a partner without baggage. If Edward was an open book, then Jamie was a blank book. The way she was at that age. Before her father died, before she gave nearly a decade to a
thankless job, before Jack shredded her heart to smithereens, and before technology fast-tracked the pace of everything around her. Back when her world was still whole and complication-free.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. I mean, we do work six inches apart, so of course we knock into each other.”

“Well, what about the computer stuff? Why are you always asking me to Google things?”

“Because I don’t use the Internet. I haven’t for six months already.”

She might as well have been a one-eyed Martian the way Jamie looked at her in that moment.

“That’s weird. It just really seemed like you were into me. You gave Eleanor the stink eye every time she came to visit. C’mon, Evie. I think you’re just holding back because I’m a student. I won’t tell a soul, I promise.”

“Jamie, I’m sorry, but it’s just not going to happen. I am flattered though. Seriously.”

“Whatever,” he said, pushing open the door to the supply closet. He looked back and whispered, “It’s not cool to be a tease. Guys don’t like that.”

Dating advice from a high school student. And there she had it—she’d sunk to a new low.

# # #

“It’s a boy!”

“What?” Evie asked groggily. She tried to focus her eyes on the alarm clock next to her bed but the red numbers just did a blurry dance. After painful squinting, she registered that the clock read 3:30
A.M
. She clenched her fingers over the receiver in her hand and ascertained she was not dreaming the phone call.

“It’s a boy,” she heard again. “A perfect, angelic boy.” She recognized Tracy’s voice upon hearing it the second time.

“No he’s not,” Evie said defensively.

How the hell did Tracy know what went down?

“Evie, trust me, he’s a boy. He was circumcised one hour ago.”

The baby. Tracy had a baby boy.

“Oh, the baby’s a boy. That’s amazing. Sorry, it’s the middle of the night. I’m just so out of it.”

“Well, get up and come meet him. I feel shockingly okay. Percocet’s pretty awesome.”

“Now?”

“Yes, now. You need to meet Henry.”

“You named him Henry?” Evie asked, suddenly paralyzed.

“Yes. Cutest name, right? He’s named after Jake’s uncle.”

Evie was speechless. She never expected to hear her father’s name. Not in this context.

“You there?”

“Um, yeah. I think it’s a great name,” Evie said. “It was my father’s name.”

“Oh, Jesus, Evie. I’m sorry. I hope you don’t mind. Honestly, we didn’t even think about that. You don’t mind, do you? We can both have Henrys. Someday.”

Evie knew Henry was a common name. She couldn’t very well lay claim to it, especially when it was unclear if she’d ever have a chance to use it for a son of her own.

“It’s okay, really. Let me get dressed and I’ll come see you guys. You’re at New York Hospital, right?”

“Yes. And thanks, Evie—I hope my Henry is the kind of man your father was. You’ve always spoken so highly of him.”

“I’ll be there soon.”

By the time Evie reached the labor and delivery floor, Tracy had transitioned from exuberant to unconscious. The new father was also asleep, his body scrunched into a sideways child’s pose to fit onto the tiny hospital couch. The baby lay quietly in the
hospital-issued bassinet against one wall of the room. Caroline and Stasia were already there, seated on mismatched plastic chairs they must have dragged from the waiting room.

“She just fell asleep,” Caroline said with a big yawn. Nocturnal secretions crusted the corners of her eyes and lips. “You all are so lucky I had the girls in the daytime.”

Evie approached the crib cautiously, worried that her footsteps would wake the baby.

“Don’t worry, you won’t wake him,” Caroline said, intuiting Evie’s concern. “They sleep like, well, like babies at this age.”

Henry was swaddled in a fuzzy white hospital blanket and was wearing a tiny blue-, pink-, and white-striped beanie. She had to admit he was a cute newborn, with flushed cheeks and a thick swath of black hair visible from where his cap ended.

“Evie, you missed Tracy’s very detailed account of the birth,” Stasia said. “Before she passed out she asked me to check if her vagina was still intact. I sincerely hope Jake isn’t serious about making a documentary. If I were Tracy, I would have smashed his video camera in two.”

Jerome stumbled in at that moment, clearing his throat.

“Coffee, anyone?” He was carrying a full tray. Evie was surprised to see he had come along with Caroline to the hospital. She had presumed that rich people, particularly rich old people, didn’t do things that weren’t convenient for them, which would certainly include a middle-of-the-night trip to meet a new baby. But there he was, rubbing Caroline’s shoulders after passing out the coffee.

“Is Rick here?” Evie asked, noticing that Stasia was also eyeing Jerome’s warm gesture to Caroline.

At that moment, Tracy’s eyes flitted open and Evie jumped out of her chair to approach.

“Hi, Trace! Congratulations!” Evie said. “I hope I didn’t wake you. How are you?”

“I’m fine, I think. I just felt a contraction. But he’s out of me, right?”

Caroline laughed. “Yes, he’s in the bassinet. You’re having after-birth contractions. They really suck and will last for a few days.”

“Just when I thought I was done,” Tracy said, rubbing her eyes. “Okay, I need to go back to sleep if I have a prayer of taking care of this kid. Wake me when Paul arrives, okay. I think he said he’d come. He and Marco want to get a handle on the newborn thing before Maya arrives.”

So Paul and Marco already knew they were having a girl? Evie calculated that over a month had passed since she’d spoken to Paul.

Tracy’s eyes closed again, and everyone kept their voices down, even though they could see from her jerky wincing every few minutes that she was not asleep.

“Does this freak you out?” Evie turned to Stasia. “Seeing how much pain Tracy’s in?”

“Why would it freak me out?” Stasia asked with a blank stare.

Let’s see how you handle pushing out a watermelon from a hole the size of a peach pit.

“Well, I’d be nervous if I was going to have a baby someday soon, seeing how tough it is,” Evie hedged. Stasia still hadn’t told her about the pregnancy so she treaded lightly.

“Well, I’m not pregnant. So nothing to worry about.” Stasia offered up a close-lipped smile.

Maybe she’d had a miscarriage? Evie had been so sure Stasia was keeping something from her.

“Well, you and Rick are doctors. When the time comes, you’ll probably both handle this in a much more clinical way. Rick was so nice, by the way, about my grandma. Is he coming?” Evie repeated her previous question. In the other corner of the room,
Jerome and Caroline were silently looking through pictures on Jerome’s iPad. She knew they were looking at the girls, because every time Jerome’s finger scrolled to a new picture, goofy parental smiles would spread across their faces.

“He’s not coming, Evie. Why do you keep asking?” Stasia’s voice boomed, shattering the calm in the room.

“Okay, I’m sorry, I was just making conversation. Sorry if I was being annoying.” Evie couldn’t understand why Stasia was so rattled.

“Whatever,” Stasia went on, choosing not to lower her voice from her initial outburst. “We’re getting divorced, okay? Now you know.” Suddenly the room was sucked of all its air, Evie suffering the most of all from foot-in-mouth suffocation.

“Does everyone else know?” It was a petty question, and Evie knew it. But it was the first thing she thought to say and her filter didn’t operate well in the middle of the night.

Stasia started crying. She cradled her head in her hands and nodded her head. It was so subtle that Evie couldn’t tell if she was trying to say yes or her head was just being moved in that direction by her hands.

“So that’s a yes?” Evie asked.

This time Stasia nodded more deliberately.

“Why didn’t you tell me? I could have been there for you.”

By this time, Caroline and Jerome had stopped studying pictures and were listening intently to Evie and Stasia.

“It’s not an easy thing to share. And honestly, you wouldn’t understand.” If Stasia was intending to be hurtful, she succeeded with her undue emphasis on the “you.”

“I did have a terrible breakup with Jack after dating for two years. I’m not an asexual amoeba, for God’s sake. I know a thing or two about relationships,” Evie snapped.