That Baby (26 page)

But I notice it’s more shiny than usual and the long scratch from Phillip’s backpack is gone.
 

“Your table looks different,” I say.
 

“I had it refinished.”

I look at the table some more, feeling sad. It used to have character and memories, which were all wiped away.

And even though I know the table we ordered will look new when we get it, I can’t wait to have our friends carve their names in it. I can’t wait for my kids to eat sandwiches on it. I can’t wait for the first scratch. For the table to be a history of our time together.
 

Somehow, I have to figure out a way to get her to return the table she bought us without hurting her feelings.
 

She’s smiling and happily chatting to Lori about the baby shower. I’m nodding where it’s appropriate but my mind is thinking about how appreciative she was when I let her help plan some of the wedding. Maybe that’s the solution. Maybe I should take her to see the table we ordered. Or let her help me pick something out for the house.
 

I managed to convince both her and Mrs. Diamond that seeing the groom before the wedding wasn’t bad luck. That it would be a special moment. Maybe I need to do something like that again.

Chelsea interrupts my thoughts as she slides into a chair next to me. “Decorating the onesies was such a cute idea. Everyone loved it. I’d love to do that for my shower. I’m also dying to read the advice. Are you going to share them, Lori?”

“Maybe,” she says. “I thought I would save them until after the baby is born.”

Mrs. Mackenzie takes a plate out of the microwave and sets it in front of me. “Where did you go after the shower today?”

“I visited my parents’ grave. Today was my dad’s birthday.”
 

“April fourteenth,” she says, shaking her head. “That’s right. I can’t believe it’s been almost five years since they passed. How are you doing?”

“I’m okay,” I tell her. “Pastor John was there. I told him about our pregnancy.”

“I bet he wasn’t as excited as I was,” she chuckles.
 

I feel my phone vibrate and peek down at my lap.
 

Phillip:
 
Just so you know, I confiscated Danny’s phone. Lori is being a HUGE bitch. I didn’t realize how bad it is. It’s not often I do this, but I’m feeding him shots. He needs them. Love you, Princess
.
 

“So what did you girls decide?” Mrs. Mac asks. “If you’re staying here, I’ll make you some mocktails. Maybe mudslides and strawberry daiquiris?”

Lori looks down at her phone and sighs. “That sounds good. Let’s stay here.”

I decide to do what I can to make Lori have fun and forget where Danny is.
 

We watch as Mrs. Mac throws stuff in the blender and then she sets pitchers on the table while I get glasses.
 

Chelsea pours us each a drink and I say, “Okay. We’re setting some ground rules for this slumber party. All pregnancy, birth, and baby words and topics are off limits starting now. Tonight, we’re just girls.”

“That's good,” Mrs. Mac says. “You need to just be a girl sometimes, especially once you become a mother—”

“Drink!” I yell out, pointing at her. “Uh, sorry, old habit. But you just committed a party foul.”

Mrs. Mac is taken aback. “Oh, well, I was just going to say that no matter what your uh,
role
is in life—that you should always remember to take care of yourself. You are first and foremost a woman. Wife and mother—”

“Uh . . .” I say, while chanting, drink motherfucker in my head, but feeling proud of myself for not yelling it out.

“—all come later,” she finishes.
 

“I got a whole lot of advice about that
role
today,” Lori says. “And what’s the deal? Do women take pleasure in scaring us by describing their deliveries?”

“Uh, drink,” I say to Lori as Mrs. Mac places a delicious looking slab of chocolate ganache cake and three forks in front of us.

“Damn,” Lori says, automatically taking a chug of her mudslide. Old habits die hard.
 

“You cussed too,” I remind her.

She takes another drink, laughing.
 

“I haven't had this much fun in a while,” she says, as a hunk of cake makes its way toward her mouth, barely hanging onto the dainty dessert fork.
 

But her question has me thinking. “Um, Mrs. Mac, I was talking to Pastor John today and he was telling me about his mother-in-law. Did Mr. Mac’s mom like you?”

“You said
mom
and
mother
,” Chelsea points out.

I happily take a slug of mudslide.
 

Mrs. Mac frowns. “She didn't really approve of me.”

“Why?” I ask.

“Even though we'd been dating for quite some time, getting—” She stops before she says pregnant. “—Um,
Ashley
was a surprise. We eloped which really upset her. But you have to do what's right for you as a couple. And eloping helped us avoid the drama. Well, sort of.”

“What do you mean?”

“I was still in college while carrying, um—
our surprise
.”

I squint at Lori and we agree to let the
carrying
slide.
 

“This one time she came to our apartment and complained because it was a mess. Said something about how her son wasn't raised that way.”

“What did you do?” Lori asks her.

“I told her it was her son's mess.
That
didn't go over well. Doug's family was fairly well off. My family was just pretty normal. She thought I tricked him into marrying me for his money. They really weren’t that well off,” she says under her breath. “Sure they owned the business that he eventually took over, but it was struggling. He made it what it is today. Anyway, I'm headed to bed. You girls enjoy your night. There's more leftover chicken enchiladas and homemade salsa in the fridge if you get hungry later.”

“Thanks,” we say in unison.

Once she’s out of earshot, Chelsea levels her gaze at me. “How did Phillip’s mom go from a newlywed with a messy apartment to Martha freaking Stewart?”

I shrug. I was wondering the same thing myself.
 

“Do you think that will be us someday?” Chelsea asks. “Like when we have—um,
houses
of our own. Will we get better at that stuff?”

“I think so. Did you hear Danny's cousin talking?” I ask.

Lori says, “Yeah. She made it sound like she was in—uh,
pain
for three days straight before she gave—uh, before the
event
.”

“You can say it,” I tease. “You’ll just have to drink.”

“This mudslide is so good. I feel like I’m drinking but I’m not. And fine, I’ll say it. Does anyone really have three days of labor?” She automatically chugs her drink.

“She mentioned that she had a huge—um, that
she required numerous stitches
afterwards as well,” Chelsea says. “Just thinking about that makes my nether regions hurt.”

“She was exaggerating,” Lori says. “No one takes three days for the event.”

“My point, though, is that she said all her two-year-old eats are apples, chicken fingers, and strawberry pop tarts.”

“Sounds like my college diet,” Lori laughs.

“Exactly!” I say. “Meaning we can handle it.”

Lori smiles. “Yeah, you’re right. We
can
handle it.”

I get brave and ask her what has really been on my mind. “Lori, are you and Danny doing okay?”

“Yes, why do you ask?”

“I heard you were mad they were going out. That kind of stuff never bothered you before.”

She plays with the ends of her hair then pats her baby bump. “Does it bother you?” She turns to Chelsea. “What about you? Joey is with them. You’re starting to show. You’re a few weeks behind Jade and your stomach is way bigger.”

“What’s that got to do with anything?” Chelsea says. “It’s not like I’m fat. I’m pregnant. Besides, Jade is taller than me. My mom said she popped out right away too. Different body types carry babies different ways. And, no, it doesn’t bother me at all. I trust Joey.”

“It doesn't bother me either,” I say. “They’re being guys, having fun. It’s not like they go very often. The last time was Phillip’s bachelor party.”

“I know it was,” Lori says. “And bachelor parties are usually the only time he goes.”

“Why don’t I heat up some more enchiladas and we watch a movie?” I suggest. I don’t want her dwelling on the club. I shouldn’t have even brought it up, but I wanted to make sure they’re okay.

“I can’t wait to put my feet up,” Lori says. “They’re swollen for some reason.”

“You go do that. I’ll heat up the food.”

Chelsea plops on the couch while Lori perches on the edge of it, moving pillows around before leaning back and getting comfortable.
 

I throw the enchiladas in the microwave and make up a tray of chips and salsa.
 

Lori says, “Jade, do you think Danny would ever cheat on me? Honestly?”

“I honestly don't, Lori,” I say, setting the food on the coffee table.

“He cheats at board games,” she counters.

“Yeah, he openly cheats. That’s different.”

Chelsea chooses a movie we’ve seen a million times.

When I go into the kitchen to get more chips, I send Phillip a quick text.
 

Me:
 
How’s the party?
 

MacDaddyLovesYou:
 
Danny is buying rounds of lap dances.
 

Me: Are they better than the one I gave you at your bachelor party?

MacDaddyLovesYou:
 
Yours was by far the sexiest.

Me:
 
I can't dance.

MacDaddyLovesYou: You gave it a good shot. And you earned shoe money.

Me:
 
I gave the money back to Danny.

MacDaddyLovesYou:
 
Hmm, well . . . wanna earn some more when you get home?
 

Me:
 
I love you. Have fun. Be good. Don't get arrested. And don't let Danny drink too much.

MacDaddyLovesYou:
 
I have all but the last one covered.

Me:
 
Then don't let him do anything stupid.
 

MacDaddyLovesYou:
 
Have I ever?

Me:
 
Well, you have tried. Doesn't always work. It needs to work tonight. I think his marriage is at stake. Seriously.

MacDaddyLovesYou:
 
Got it. But we both know he’s not going to cheat. Is he having fun? Yes. Is he a cheater? No. Never has been.

Me:
 
True. Okay, I gotta go. Have fun.

Me:
 
But, like, not too much fun.

“So the guys were doing their list of nevers at the Super Bowl party,” I say, setting the chips down. “Do you have anything you swear you won’t do when you’re a parent?”

“My kids will never eat fast food,” Lori says.

“I think it's easy to say you'll never do something,” Chelsea says to her, “but when I took my nephews to their hockey practices while my sister went Christmas shopping a few months ago, I got them fast food. I know my sister doesn't let them eat that stuff—hell, I won't even eat it unless I’m drunk. I know it's bad for you, but they were whining, crabby, and hungry and when I suggested getting some food, they casually suggested a drive thru because we didn’t have much time. It wasn't until later, when they were happily munching down fries and drinking Mountain Dew like it was the nectar of the gods, did I remember my sister had a no-fast-food rule.”

“Well, sometimes when you’re traveling or in a hurry, you need to stop for something quick,” I sympathize.

“No, wait,” she says. “There’s more. And if it wasn't bad enough I broke that rule, I told them not to tell their mother. I taught them how to lie! I don't know how she does it. Whenever they go somewhere it takes her forever because she has to pack a freaking cooler—like just to go for a drive because the boys get hungry. She always has a healthy array of snacks.”

“Although I disapprove of fast food as well,” Lori says, “you weren't prepared. Your sister should have packed you a cooler.”

“You're right,” Chelsea says. “See, it wasn't my fault. Except maybe for the lying. But she would have been mad at me—although I thought she did all her Christmas shopping online, but she said she and her husband were going together. Maybe they just needed some time alone.”

“I read an article that says it's important to still have a date night with your husband even when your kids are little and you don't want to leave them,” I say.

“Her boys are seven and nine. They actually have a really good babysitter. That's one thing that will be awesome if Joey and I move here after I graduate. Like if one of the jobs works out.” Lori smiles at me. I know Danny has already decided to hire Joey and is putting together a sweet package for him.