The Birthdays (18 page)

“I don’t know. I’m a little terrified of fatherhood, to be honest,” he said, though this wasn’t exactly it. Clearly she hadn’t heard his argument with Liz. “I’m just not sure I’m up to the task or that I’m a good enough person, you know?”

“Oh, you’ll be fine, and Dad and I will come up and help if you need us to. You really shouldn’t be
terrified
. As for good enough, well, you’re one of the most good people I know.” She reached for his hand. “I don’t think you could be a bad person if you tried.”

Jake smiled sadly at her.

“And anyway, at least there will be two of you for one baby. Think of how hard it’ll be on your sister.”

“Mom, can you keep something quiet for a little while?” He couldn’t help himself.

Her eyes lit and she nodded.

“We wanted to wait to tell you all at once, but God knows when that opportunity will come.”

“Yes?”

“We’re having two.”

“Two what?” she asked.

“Two babies, Mom.”

She blinked several times and held her fork before her mouth. “Twins?”

That blessed magazine was all he could think of. He put it out of his mind. “Yes.”

“No.”

“It’s exciting,” he made himself say. “Isn’t it?”

She nodded vigorously. “Of course it is! Two at once!” she practically shouted, then lowered her voice. “I have to say I had my doubts about those treatments Liz was on. I suppose they’re what caused the twins? And this must be why you’re feeling so nervous, so—”

“Jake,” a voice said, and when he turned, he saw Liz standing behind them, her hands on her hips, her mouth pinched shut. She pivoted and rushed out of the room.

He stood to follow her. “She wanted us to tell you when we were all together,” he said to his mother.

Ellen scowled. “Just leave her alone for a bit, let her cool down.”

He took a couple of steps forward, then stopped. “Maybe I should.”

There was a shuffling in the hallway and Hilary appeared in the doorway, her eyes half-closed, her hair in bent chunks beside her face. Her nose ring poked out too far from her nostril. “Hi,” she said. “I’m starving.” She joined them at the table and sleepily picked orange slices from the salad, looking critically at each miniature smile before she popped it in her mouth.

Jake wanted to tell his mother of the dangers that he and Liz faced with the pregnancy—all the things their doctor had warned them of—and a part of him wanted to tell her about the day he’d had, this trying day he’d had with his wife, and that she didn’t want to make love with him and hadn’t in so long and what if she didn’t want to ever again? But he would wait before he said anything more about their twins. (And he would not say a thing about his day or about Liz. It was private, and she would probably leave him if he did.) He would let Liz have some time to herself and wait until Daniel got there before telling anyone else anything.

Hilary was all nonchalance and fatigue as she shoveled large forkloads of salad into her mouth, followed by enormous pieces of bread. Jake had forgotten how she chewed sideways, like a cow. He turned away.

“Slow down or you’ll choke,” his mother said, and Hilary shrugged. Jake sensed something was about to erupt between them, so he rose and went to find Liz. The hell with waiting.

She sat under the eave on the back porch, watching the rain drip from the roof. She didn’t turn when he slid open the door.

“Hey,” he said, leaning his head outside. “You’ll get soaked out here.”

“Then I’ll dry myself off.” She held her gaze forward.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “Liz, I’m sorry I told her. It just came out of my mouth. And I’m sorry about that goddamned magazine.”

She hugged her chest. “Maybe you should find a girlfriend,” she said. “You know, maybe you should have an affair.”

“What? What are you talking about? Are you trying to be funny?” He stepped outside and slid the door closed behind him.

“No, I’m not.” She finally turned and looked at him. “Apparently you have these needs that I can’t take care of right now.”

He took a seat beside her. “Don’t say things like that. You make me sound like some kind of feral animal.” Mist wetted their shoes, and Jake wiggled his toes. “I love you,” he said.

“I know.” She pressed her lips together. “My father used to have girlfriends. He’d see them when my mother was away on business or when she had the flu or something. There was one he was really fond of, and she became the only one after a while. Her name was Elsie. She wasn’t that pretty; she was on the heavy side, and had a large, sort of bent nose. But she was really good to him. And she was good to me. She brought me presents—these miniature soaps she’d stolen from hotels and motels. I collected them.”

“Jesus. You never told me this.” He swallowed what tasted like a stone.

“I figured it’d bother you,” she said. “And make you like my parents even less.”

“I like them, you know that. They’re just a little strange—you know that too. And anyway, didn’t it bother you?”

“I was young. I suppose I didn’t really know any better.”

“But it didn’t seem weird to you? I assume the other mommies and daddies didn’t bring their lovers home to meet their families.”

“We weren’t really friends with the other normal mommies and daddies,” she said. “Anyway, Elsie died in a car accident
when I was thirteen. We all went to her funeral and I can’t tell you how upset I was. My father couldn’t even speak, neither could my mother.”

“So what then?”

“Nothing, really,” she said. “My father never had another girlfriend. My mother traveled less for work and spent more time with him. They made do. But since Elsie died, my father’s become sadder and more withdrawn. Kind of like a smaller version of his old self.”

“He seems all right to me.”

“You didn’t know him before.”

They sat there, watching the tide swell and pound the beach. Clouds hid the moon, and the horizon was almost invisible.

“Do you think I’ve become a smaller version of my old self?” he asked tentatively.

“Not necessarily smaller, but since I got pregnant, or really since we started trying, you just never seem content with me. I can’t seem to give you enough of myself. And you keep trying to do more and more to make me happy. You take care of me and every little thing around the house, and sometimes I think you expect something from me in return to show you that I love you and that I am, in fact, happy. But I am happy, you know? I’m
so
happy that I’m pregnant,” she said, and turned in her chair. “Maybe it’s healthy, really, your tending to yourself like this, in this way. It’s normal to have needs.” She sounded as if she was sifting through piles of thoughts that she’d been having for some time.

“I don’t think I’ll be hooking up with an Elsie anytime soon,” he snorted.

“I figured as much. But if you find yourself wanting to, just
let me know. Okay?” she said. She was serious. “Just be open with me. We can at least talk about it.”

“I won’t want to, I promise. I would never want to do anything remotely like that.”

“I know, Jake, but I just mean—”

“I absolutely can’t believe you’d say these things.” He looked at her. “Do
you
want to have an affair or something?”

“No, of course not.”

The wind had begun to pick up, and the air was almost chilly now. “Don’t you worry that once the twins come our lives will turn upside down? That we’ll have no time for each other anymore?”

“I guess I think it’ll be worth it.”

“Let me try again. It doesn’t seem like you’re attracted to me anymore.” He shouldn’t have said it straight out. He certainly didn’t need to define for her what she may not have articulated to herself yet. “Or am I just taking something too personally again?”

“Yes, you are. Think about all that my body is going through right now.” It had become her refrain. There was no arguing with her. “You have to cut me some slack.”

“You keep talking about my needs, but what about yours? Don’t you have any at all?”

“Lately, not those kinds.” She looked at him and chewed the side of her mouth. “You fed your mother part of dinner and told her our secret.”

“Yes,” he mumbled. She was incapable of letting one thing go.

“You did it to piss me off.”

“I did it because my mother was hungry.”

“That’s why you told her about our twins?”

“Jesus, Liz, I’m imperfect. Okay? How many times do I have to tell you this? I’m not fucking perfect.” He said this whenever he’d reached a wall in an argument, but nothing more explanatory ever came to mind.

She squeezed one side of her neck.

“I’m going to go see if Dan called,” he said, and stood.

“Stay here with me for a minute,” she said. “Don’t rush off.”

He paused. “I’m sorry, all right? What else is there to say? I’m a bad, completely flawed, ridiculous person.”

“I just want to know why you told her. I want to know the real reason.”

“My family is inside. Do we have to do this now? Can’t this wait?”

She dropped her chin to her chest. “Here’s what I think: you’re mad at me for not paying enough attention to you lately, and you’re worried I never will again. You’re worried we’ll never have sex again.”

“Yes, that’s it. That’s exactly it. Thank God you said it.”

“You were getting back at me.”

“I’m going inside.”

“Seriously. There are solutions. The magazine—I don’t really mind, you know? It’s healthy. It’s perfectly okay. I just want us to be open about these things.”

“You’re a lunatic,” he said.

Jake burst inside just as Hilary was about to throttle her mother. Her pitying looks and concern, her thinly veiled remarks about everything from how Hilary ate to how she’d never be able to handle motherhood on her own. “I’m not
criticizing you, honey, I’m just worried you’ll choke if you don’t slow down,” Ellen had said. And earlier, “I want to help you once the baby comes. I want you to know that we’re here, Dad and I, whenever you need us. We could fly out for a week, or you could bring the baby home sometimes. I could never have done what you’re doing now, all alone. I assume this person, this man, is still out of the picture?” Endless patronizing and second-guessing, and Hilary had pointed this out but Ellen had denied it. And then Jake pushed open the sliding glass door, his face flushed and wet, just as Joe appeared in the hallway. “Anyone tell me where I might find another blanket?” he asked.

Jake flew forward, emitted a loud chirp and was suddenly flat on the floor. Joe scrambled behind him. Ellen rushed toward them and Hilary couldn’t help laughing.

“GODDAMMIT!” Jake screamed.

Joe knelt and flipped Babe.

Ellen stroked Jake’s head. “Are you all right?”

His face tightened. He had absolutely no balance or coordination.

“Call an ambulance,” Ellen yelled to no one in particular.

“I think I broke something,” Jake said. He reached toward his ankle with one hand, his neck with the other.

Joe rushed Babe back down the hallway.

“That godforsaken creature!” her mother yelled after him. “Hil, call an ambulance.”

“Ouch,” Jake moaned.

Hilary saw her father disappear into the bedroom.

“Hilary Jane!” Ellen called.

“Fine, Mom, just stop yelling.” Hilary moved toward the
sliding glass door. She pushed it open and briefly told Liz what had happened. “You’re kidding,” Liz said, and rolled her eyes.

“I’m not,” Hilary said, surprised by her response.

“HILARY!” Ellen screamed from inside.

“Mom wants me to call an ambulance.”

“There’s no hospital here, so no ambulances. Hold on, I’m coming.” Liz stood and rushed inside to Jake, and Hilary followed. “Where does it hurt?” Liz asked him.

His face still pinched, he pointed to his ankle.

“Don’t you think he should see a doctor?” Ellen asked, still crouched beside him.

“Can you stand?” Liz asked Jake.

“I can’t move,” he said, squirming on his back.

Joe reappeared. “I could take him to the hospital,” he said.

“God,” Liz said. “This is ridiculous.”

Hilary looked at her father, standing alone in the hallway. “I’ll come with you, Dad,” she said.

“I’m fine, I’ll be fine,” Jake snapped.

“Joe, come over here and help me get him up,” her mother said, and Hilary joined them. The irony. Two pregnant women and an old couple assisting the person who should have been the healthiest one there to his feet.

“I’ll be all right,” Jake muttered. “Just get me to the couch.”

“Joe, go get your coat,” her mother said, but her father froze. “JOE.”

“Mom, stop it,” Jake said. They guided him across the room and onto the couch, where Hilary pushed a cushion beneath his leg. The leather squeaked beneath him as he shuffled around. “I’m fine. I just need to lie down.”

“What if something broke?”

Liz said, “I’ll go get some ice,” and Hilary followed her into
the kitchen. “He can be such a klutz,” Liz said to her. “And anyway, he just needs to rest and stop doting on everyone for once.”

“No one’s stopping him from resting. He can relax all he wants,” Hilary said, and thought that it had been Liz, not Jake, who’d been doting on them since they got here. Liz wrapped several ice cubes in a wet paper towel and the two headed back into the living room.

“Honey,” Ellen said. “Help me convince your husband that he should be seen by a doctor. He could have broken something.”

“He’ll be fine, Ellen. Just let it go,” Liz said, and pushed the makeshift ice pack firmly against Jake’s ankle. Hilary had never seen her sister-in-law so testy. “How’s it feeling?”

“Okay,” he said. He pressed his eyes closed. He held his body rigid and straight, his arms at his sides.

Hilary set off to find her father, and as she suspected, he was in their bedroom, tending to Babe, setting him on the carpet and feeding him a baby carrot. It almost seemed as if she were interrupting some private conversation between them—and did he confide in the turtle? Did he tell him things he told no one else? She hoped there was someone her father could be completely open with, even if it was a box turtle. They all made too many demands on him. Of course he was drawn to something that couldn’t speak or complain or demand more attention. “Dad? You all right?”