The Rosie Effect

by Graeme Simsion

  ‘Oh my God, Don.’ She laughed, but I detected nervousness. ‘You’re kidding me. I’m just saying that—I know you’re not. Oh my God. I don’t think I could be Rosie.’

  ‘Morally or in terms of competence?’

  ‘Oh, you know me. Totally immoral.’ This was not my impression of Sonia, but was consistent with Gene’s view of her profession. ‘Rosie and I are so different.’

  ‘Correct. But Lydia hasn’t met Rosie. She doesn’t even know she’s Australian. Just that she’s a medical student with no friends.’

  ‘No friends? What about Dave and me?’

  ‘She only sees you because of me. Most of her interaction is with her study group. Occasionally she sees Judy Esler. She’s primarily interested in intellectual conversation.’

  ‘I’ll have to catch up on my reading. You want a coffee?’

  We were at Dave and Sonia’s apartment. It was a Sunday, but Rosie had gone into university in violation of the ‘weekend free time’ rule and Dave was also working. Sonia claimed that her Italian heritage required regular espresso coffee, and had a high-quality machine. Coffee was an excellent idea, but not the first priority.

  ‘After we resolve the impersonation question.’

  ‘After I have my coffee.’

  When Sonia returned with my double espresso and her pregnancy-compatible decaffeinated cappuccino, she appeared to have prepared a speech.

  ‘All right, Don, it’s just one session, no more?’

  I nodded.

  ‘And no forms to fill in or anything, nothing to sign?’

  ‘I don’t think so.’ Nothing was certain, but as Lydia was officially assessing me as a paedophile, it seemed unlikely that she would report anything about Rosie or the parenthood aspect. Sonia was probably right in characterising her behaviour as ‘way out of line’.

  ‘All right. I’m going to do this for you, for two reasons. The main one is because you’ve been so great to Dave. I know he’d be insolvent without the cash he gets from George the Drummer. I know that.’

  Dave definitely did not know that Sonia knew that. Dave was extremely concerned to ensure that Sonia was unaware of his business problems. Which was a ridiculous expectation, considering Sonia’s profession.

  Sonia finished her coffee. ‘But I don’t want you to tell Dave,’ she said.

  ‘Why not?’

  ‘He’s got enough on his mind. You know Dave, he’s a worrier.’

  This was true. The motivation for the deception was to avoid causing stress to Rosie. It would be a terrible outcome if the solution caused stress to Dave, leading to a heart attack or stroke, which he was already susceptible to because of his weight. But secrets were accumulating. I am extremely poor at deception. I promised Sonia that I would do my best, but that my best was likely to be significantly below the average human ability to lie. I was in need of Gene’s skills, but his skills were a result of his personality which I was not in need of.

  ‘What’s the second reason?’ I asked.

  ‘To put that bitch back in her box,’ said Sonia. She was laughing.

  Rosie was putting flowers into our two vases and the wine decanter when I arrived home. She was wearing shorts and a sleeveless t-shirt. Her shape was not visibly different from its normal state of perfect.

  ‘I need a break from study,’ she said. ‘You were right about things getting out of perspective.’

  ‘Excellent idea,’ I said. ‘You need to minimise stress.’

  ‘How is Sonia doing?’ said Rosie.

  ‘Sonia is doing extremely well. Dave is nervous about becoming a father. As is normal for men.’

  Rosie laughed. ‘Hey, I’ve been thinking. About what you said last week about us getting some counselling. I was probably a bit defensive. Maybe it would be a good idea. If you feel you need it.’

  ‘No, no, I was only thinking of you. I’m feeling highly confident. Excited.’

  ‘Okay. Well, I’m okay too. Let me know if you change your mind.’

  Eight days earlier, I would have accepted Rosie’s offer. But now the Sonia approach seemed a better solution. There would be less stress for Rosie, less risk of the process being derailed by her becoming confrontational and less danger that she might be exposed to a negative assessment of my readiness for fatherhood.

  I arranged to meet Sonia at her place of work on the Upper East Side in the hope that I might be able to combine the pre-interview briefing with learning about advances in reproductive technology. But ‘place of work’ translated into ‘nearby coffee shop’.

  ‘I don’t work anywhere near the labs. I only met Dave because I thought his company had overcharged us.’

  ‘Had they?’

  ‘No, Dave screwed up the paperwork. But he was so honest about it, I bought him a coffee. Here.’

  ‘Leading to sex after only two dates.’

  ‘Dave told you that?’

  ‘It’s incorrect?’

  ‘Completely untrue. We didn’t sleep together until we were married.’

  ‘Dave lied?’ Incredible. Dave was scrupulously honest.

  Sonia laughed. ‘No, I lied. You couldn’t tell?’

  I shook my head. ‘I’m extremely gullible.’ Fooling Lydia, who was probably accustomed to dealing with welfare cheats, alimony avoiders and accountants within her own organisation, would be more difficult.

  ‘You definitely didn’t tell her that Rosie was Australian?’

  ‘I said that she didn’t have any family here. She—you—can be from any location except New York.’

  ‘All right. Take me through this depression test.’

  ‘She may use some other. I’ve researched several. The common factor appears to be that risk of depression is detected via the respondent feeling unhappy and anxious.’

  ‘Isn’t psychology amazing? I wonder what these people get paid for sometimes.’

  ‘Do you think we’ll be able to deceive her?’

  ‘Don’t worry, Don. The trick is only to lie about the things you have to lie about. You be you, I’ll be me, except for the name. I’m happy. And completely normal.’

  I almost failed to recognise Sonia in the enormous foyer of the Bellevue Hospital. I had only ever seen her in her work costume and, on social occasions, in jeans. She was wearing a large patterned skirt and a white frilled shirt, creating an overall impression of a folk dancer. She greeted me effusively.

  ‘Ciao, Don. It’s a beautiful day, no?’

  ‘You’re sounding strange. Like a comedian pretending to be Italian.’

  ‘I am Italian. I’m only living here one year. I’ve got no family here, like you say to the lady. But I’m very happy! Because of the bambino!’ She rotated on the spot, and the centrifugal force caused her skirt to extend. She laughed.

  Sonia’s grandparents on her father’s side were Italian, but she did not speak Italian. If Lydia brought in an interpreter, we would be in trouble. I recommended Sonia keep the use of the accent subtle. But it was a brilliant idea to create a foreign Rosie without imitating an Australian accent, which
would appear inauthentic next to mine.

  ‘I’m sorry to take you away from your studies,’ said Lydia after indicating that we should sit down. ‘You must be very busy.’

  ‘I’m very busy all the time,’ said Sonia. She looked at her watch. I was impressed by the acting.

  ‘How long have you been in the States?’

  ‘Since the start of the medical course. I come here for study.’

  ‘And before that, what were you doing?’

  ‘Working in an IVF facility in Milano. It is from this that I become interested in medicine.’

  ‘How did you and Don meet?’

  Disaster! Sonia looked at me. I looked at Sonia. If one of us had to invent a story, it was best that it be Sonia.

  ‘At Columbia. Don is my teacher. Everything is happening rapido.’

  ‘When are you due?’

  ‘December.’ This was the correct answer for Sonia.

  ‘Did you plan to get pregnant so quickly?’

  ‘When you work in IVF, you learn how precious it is to have a baby. I think I’m so lucky.’ Sonia had forgotten the accent. But she sounded highly credible.

  ‘And you’re planning to defer your studies when you have the baby?’

  This was a tricky question. Sonia—the real Sonia—planned to take a year off work, which was causing Dave stress, due to the impact on income. If Sonia answered as herself rather than as Rosie, I would be forced to act as Dave for consistency and would doubtless fail to be convincing. It was better that Sonia gave the answer that Rosie would give. Except that she did not know it. I answered for her.

  ‘Rosie intends to continue her studies uninterrupted.’

  ‘No break?’

  ‘A minimum of a week. Possibly more.’

  Lydia looked at Sonia. ‘A week? You’re only taking a week off to have a baby?’

  Lydia’s obvious surprise and disapproval was consistent with David Borenstein’s advice. Sonia’s surprise was consistent with her not being Rosie and her own plans to take indefinite leave. We were all in agreement—except Rosie who was not in the room. I tried to present her position.

  ‘The birth of a baby is no more disruptive than a minor upper respiratory tract infection.’

  ‘You think having a baby is like having a cold?’

  ‘Without the disease aspect.’ Rosie’s analogy had been faulty in that respect. ‘More equivalent to taking a week’s leave to attend the baseball play-offs.’ Sonia gave me a strange look; my baseball reference had doubtless been prompted by subconscious thoughts of Dave.

  Lydia changed the topic. ‘So, with Rosie studying full-time, you’re the sole breadwinner.’

  Rosie would hate me answering ‘yes’ to this question. My answer was true until recently. ‘Incorrect. She works in a bar in the evenings.’

  ‘I guess she’ll be giving that up at some point.’

  ‘Absolutely not. She considers it critical to contribute to the finances.’ As Sonia had said, most of the time it was possible to tell the truth.

  ‘And what do you see as your role?’

  ‘In what respect?’

  ‘I’m thinking, with Rosie studying full-time and working part-time, you might need to help with the baby.’

  ‘We’ve discussed it. Rosie requires zero assistance.’

  Lydia turned to Sonia. ‘Are you comfortable with all that? Is that what you think?’

  I had temporarily forgotten that Sonia was a virtual Rosie, and had been speaking of Rosie as a person external to our conversation. I hoped Lydia had not noticed. But the answer was a simple ‘Yes’. Lydia would have a consistent story, consistent with mine, consistent with Rosie having exactly what she required for happiness, consistent with reality.

  ‘Well—’

  ‘Before you answer,’ said Lydia, ‘tell me a bit about your family. Was your mother allowed to speak for herself?’

  ‘Not really. My father decided what she said and did.’

  ‘So they were very traditional?’

  ‘If you mean, did my father go to work and come home and never cook and expect dinner on the table while my mom who had diabetes had to manage five kids, yes, we were traditional. Tradition was the excuse.’ The Italian accent had gone. Sonia was sounding angry.

  ‘Seems like you might be about to follow in her footsteps.’

  ‘Seems like it, doesn’t it? It was all about my father’s job. Oh, he had to work so hard. So hard. Well, you know what, I didn’t marry my father. I’m expecting just a little bit more from Dave.’

  ‘Dave?’

  ‘Don.’

  There was a pause. Lydia was probably working backwards from Sonia’s error to arrive at the inevitable conclusion that she was an imposter. I needed an explanation. My mind was racing and the solution was so elegant that it overrode my natural aversion to lying.

  ‘My middle name is David. My father’s name is also Donald, so sometimes I’m called Dave. To avoid confusion.’ The idea was prompted by my cousin Barry and his father who is also named Barry, leading to my cousin being known within the family by his middle name, which is Victor.

  ‘Well, Don-Dave, what do you think of what Rosie just said?’

  ‘Rosie?’ Now I was seriously confused. Sonia, Rosie, Don, Dave, Barry, Victor, which was also my grandfather’s name. My father’s father. I was about to be a father, too. Of a child with a temporary name.

  ‘Yes, Donald-David, Rosie. Your wife.’

  With time I could have untangled it. But with Lydia staring at me, I gave the only practicable answer.

  ‘I need to process the new information.’

  ‘When you’ve processed it, book another appointment.’ Lydia waved the police file. We were dismissed. And the problem was not solved.

  Sonia had to return to work, so we debriefed on the subway.

  ‘I have to tell Rosie,’ I said.

  ‘What are you going to say to Lydia? “Hello, this is the real Rosie? I’m a con man as well as a paedophile and an insensitive slob?”’

  ‘There was no mention of insensitivity and slobbishness.’

  ‘If you were a bit more sensitive, you might have picked it up.’ It was Sonia’s stop, but I got off too. The conversation was obviously critical, in two senses of the word.

  ‘Sorry, I’m angry with myself,’ said Sonia. ‘I messed it up. I don’t like to mess up.’

  ‘The accidental use of Dave’s name was totally understandable. I had to concentrate hard to avoid calling you Sonia.’

  ‘It’s a bigger deal than that. Things aren’t going the way I’d hoped with Dave and me. We tried for so long and now he’s not interested.’

  I knew why. Dave was stressed by work and the possibility of business failure, leading to the prospect of Sonia having to work in violation of her plans, leading to rejection of Dave as a suitable partner, leading to divorce, estrangement from his child and all meaning disappearing from his life. We had reviewed this sequence many times.

  Unfo
rtunately, I could not share the state of the business with Sonia, as this might accelerate the process. Now Sonia was identifying another path that might lead to the same conclusion.

  Sonia continued. ‘I’ve been reading up on everything, trying to do everything right, and he seems to think the pregnancy has nothing to do with him. Do you know what he did last night?’

  ‘Ate dinner and went to bed?’ It seemed the most likely scenario.

  ‘You couldn’t have put it better. I’d made a meal right out of the pregnancy book, covering seven of the ten power foods. I had it waiting for him when he came in, and you know what he’d done? He’d bought a hamburger. A double cheeseburger with bacon and guacamole. He’s supposed to be on a diet.’

  ‘Did it have tomato and leafy greens?’

  ‘What?’

  ‘I’m counting the pregnancy power foods.’

  ‘He sat and ate it in front of me. And then went to bed. Just so inconsiderate.’

  I thought it best not to reply. Dave trying to save his marriage, leading to working harder, leading to stress, leading to hamburger consumption and exhaustion, leading to health and marriage problems. More material to process.

  Neither of us spoke as we walked from the subway to the IVF facility. Sonia inexplicably went to hug me, but remembered in time. ‘Don’t say anything to Dave. We’ll get through it.’

  ‘Can I tell him that part? About getting through it? He may also be worried about marriage failure.’

  ‘He said that?’

  ‘Correct.’

  ‘Oh God. It’s all so hard.’

  ‘Agreed. Human behaviour is highly confusing. I’ll tell Rosie about Lydia tonight.’