Eliza Starts a Rumor

by Jane L. Rosen

  “Nice, Dad! You’re slaying!”

  “That’s a good thing, I presume?”

  Jana was happy her dad was going out on a date. She’d been worrying about him ever since her grandma died. She was very aware that in a few years she would be going off to college and leaving him alone.

  “You gotta go, Daddy.”

  “OK, I’ll come in and check on you when I get home.”

  He kissed her on the top of her head and was off.

  * * *

  —

  Jackie arrived at Alison’s house a few minutes early. He stood at the door staring at his watch, not wanting to interrupt what he imagined was going on inside. He was right. Alison was trying to get the baby down before she left. Jackie waited patiently and rang the bell at exactly eight.

  Alison answered the door looking very beautiful, except for a large wad of spit-up perched on her left shoulder. Its presence left Jackie in a bit of a conundrum—to tell or not to tell? He imagined from her glossed lips and pretty outfit that she had gone to some trouble to get ready for their date, so with that in mind, he thought, don’t tell. But he knew that, with one look in the mirror, she would wonder why he hadn’t chosen to mention that there was a sizable chunk of baby vomit on her shirt and peg him for the deceitful cad that he had recently become. He’d seen other women get angry about such things before, usually in reference to something between their teeth. He decided to say something.

  “It looks like Zachary left a little gift on your shoulder,” he reported, mirroring its location on himself.

  She immediately blushed and looked to the left, her chin grazing the pinnacle of spit-up and transferring some to her face. She had wanted to answer the door as sexy Alison, not mama-bear Alison. It had been so long since she had felt that desire. She even broke out the new lavender-and-vanilla-infused soap that the woman at the local apothecary promised would eradicate the smell of new baby, her unintentional signature scent persistently emanating from her pores. She was sure the gift that Zachary had left on her shoulder would override her efforts. It was not how she pictured this going.

  Her embarrassment was slightly tempered by admiration. She couldn’t believe Jack remembered Zach’s name; she didn’t even remember telling it to him. Even dressed as sexy Alison she was still thinking like a mama bear. Maybe that part of me is dead, she thought. But when she looked at Jack with his broad shoulders and piercing eyes, she knew that was not the case.

  He blushed as well, realizing that she never had—not knowingly at least—told him her son’s name. He swore again to stop communicating with her as Jackie from the bulletin board.

  “I’m gonna go up and change. I’ll be quick,” she said, touching him gently on the arm and leading him to the living room to wait. Even with a gesture as small as that, they were both aware of the obvious spark between them.

  He looked around, taking it all in—shabby chic meets the baby aisle at Toys R Us—or wherever one would buy such things today. Jackie had no idea. He had forgotten how much paraphernalia came with a baby. He remembered how intent he had been when Jana was small on always having the latest toys and gadgets, trying to make up for the one thing he couldn’t give her: her mother. He took a seat on the couch and ran through his “I have something to tell you” plan.

  “OK, I’m good to go now.” She was back smiling at him in a way that made his heart thump a bit harder. “And thank you for telling me, not everyone would have.”

  The perfect lead-in, he thought. “I always tell it like it is. But funny enough—”

  She cut him right off at the word “but,” completely drowning out the rest of his sentence. “I always tell it like it is, too. Maybe it’s the lawyer in me, but I have zero patience for dishonesty.”

  She tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear as she had done on the train. He again pictured them being close enough to tuck it back for her. If he said something now he may never get that chance. She barely knows me, he thought. I’ll wait until after dinner.

  “Let’s go,” he said, smiling. “We can walk from here.”

  Both Jack and Jackie really liked this woman. He couldn’t risk not even making it out the door on their first date.

  On the way to the restaurant, they talked about the weather and the beautiful old Victorian houses along Main Street. It was only after they sat down and had their first glass of wine that the conversation loosened up.

  “What do you think is harder, having a baby or a teenager?” Alison asked.

  “That’s a great question. I thought the in-between time was best. You’ll step on a few Legos, which really hurts, by the way, but if you feed them and love them and get them where they need to be relatively on time, you’re good. Bringing up babies and teenagers is similarly hard.”

  “How so?”

  “Well, when you have a baby you suffer from sleep deprivation, and it’s hard to figure out what the baby wants and needs. And when you have a teenager you have to wait up for them to get home, which is equally exhausting, and you have no idea what it is they want and need.”

  Alison thought of her online friend and the tampon incident. She almost brought it up, but lucky for Jackie she decided it wasn’t good dinner conversation.

  “I remember when I was a teenager, I didn’t tell my mom anything,” Alison said instead.

  “Me too, but at least when I did, we could understand each other. My daughter speaks a totally different language. Tonight, she said my outfit slayed. I had no idea if that was good or bad.”

  “I know that word! It’s good!”

  “OK, hotshot, how about ‘lit’?” he said, matching her quite adorable enthusiasm.

  “That’s so easy. Cool.”

  “Hmm. I’m impressed. How about ‘boo’?”

  “Boyfriend or girlfriend. Give me a hard one.”

  “Hello?”

  “Hi. Give me a hard one.”

  Jackie laughed. “That was the hard one. If you get a text that says ‘Hello’ with a question mark, what would you think it means?”

  “With a question mark?”

  “Yes.”

  “What?”

  “If you get a text that says ‘Hello?,’ what do you think it means?”

  Now Alison was laughing. “This is beginning to sound like the ‘Who’s on First’ routine. It means ‘what?’”

  “How do you know all of this?”

  “I guess from clients. I meet so many different people. I can probably teach you a few to impress your daughter.”

  He laughed. “We’re good. She has SATs coming along soon. I think we should revert back to the Queen’s English.”

  She wondered how old he was to have a teenage daughter. It did seem like he started young. She guessed that he was roughly the same age as she was. He had the slightest hint of gray on the sides of his temples. It was sexy. He was sexy.

  Over the main course they ran through all of the typical first-date banter regarding family and school and work and whatnot.

  Jackie revealed, without any detail, that he was a widower and Alison confessed that her “sperm donor” wanted nothing to do with their child. They were both surprised by their own candor.

  “Would you have been with Zach’s dad now, I mean, if he had stepped up? Maybe asked you to marry him?”

  She again appreciated how direct he was. “I would like to say that I never thought about that, but I was brought up in the same fairy tale–saturated world as every other girl, so it definitely entered my mind.”

  Alison couldn’t believe how open she was being. She hadn’t even admitted that to herself. She added, “It would have been a huge mistake. He doesn’t have any of the qualities I want in a partner. He’s not my ship, as they say. Know that one?”

  Jackie smiled. “I do. I think you would say, ‘We’re not ship.’ But good try, I get what yo
u were going for.”

  Dessert came, and they lightened things up again, agreeing first on the best flavors of gelato, and then on more important things: Mets or Yankees. On the walk home, in an effort to assist Alison across a corner puddle, Jackie took her hand. Blocks later, as they approached her house, their fingers were still intertwined. To Jackie especially, it felt natural—very natural actually. It was the first time in years he had felt this type of connection. But that dawning realization was marred by his conscience. He should have told her who he was from the start. What was wrong with him? He’d never done anything like this before, and now he was stuck navigating a lie when all he really wanted to do was kiss her.

  “I had a really nice time,” she said, as they got close. She stole a glance at him—her belly did a little somersault. When they got to her door, would he kiss her? Or maybe she’d kiss him?

  “Me too.” He smiled. He took a deep breath and looked into her eyes. He had two choices: Alison, can I tell you something? or Alison, can I kiss you? He hadn’t wanted to kiss someone this badly in ages, but he couldn’t kiss her without telling her.

  All right, that’s it, he would tell her. There’s a chance she would understand, but if she slammed the door in his face, then he could go home and get back to his humdrum life as usual. As he struggled with his words he looked up to see a man sitting on her front stoop. He assumed it was a stranger. The house was on Main Street after all, and people sometimes stopped to take a break or wait for someone. Still, he became protective.

  “Can we help you?” he asked loudly.

  “Hello, Alison,” announced the non-stranger.

  Alison quickly dropped Jackie’s hand. There would be no kissing or telling, Jackie thought, at least not for now.

  CHAPTER 27

  Alison

  Alison could not believe her eyes when she saw Marc sitting on the front stoop of her house. He had now emailed, called, and texted her about getting together to talk. She knew he wasn’t one to be ignored, so she shouldn’t have been surprised that he had come to see her face-to-face when she hadn’t responded. Still, she couldn’t get over his timing. She had really enjoyed the night and was even toying with asking Jack in. She was furious that Marc had just shown up as he did, like a cold bucket of water dousing a smoldering fire. She said a polite goodbye to Jack, paid the sitter and sent her home before even letting him inside.

  “What the hell, Marc? How did you even find me?”

  “I called your office, said I wanted to send you a baby gift.”

  Alison shook her head, noting that he was empty-handed.

  “You were ignoring me. Did you think I would just give up?” She didn’t bother answering again as she knew it was a pointless question. Marc Sugarman never gave up. They had that in common. She wasn’t sure why she’d ignored him but thought it had something to do with not knowing what she wanted from him. She didn’t like being asked questions that she may not have the answers for, a by-product of being an attorney. Never go to court ill prepared. She had just needed a little more time to figure out what would be best for her son before having to consider what would be best for theirs. Of course, it was much more than semantics.

  Marc walked over to the fireplace and looked at the couple of pictures of Zach that she had framed on the mantel. He picked one up and studied it. She wondered what it would be like to look at your son for the first time that way. Did he feel a tug at his heart? Did he see himself in him? She imagined he did because she definitely did. Zach had undeniably inherited Alison’s dark silky hair, but his eyes and skin were a clear combination. The shape of his face and the dimple on his left cheek were distinctly Marc’s.

  “He’s a beautiful boy, that’s for sure.” He cleared his throat in a way that surprised her—as if he was choking up. She put up her guard. He had been such a dick about the whole pregnancy. One compassionate display during an unannounced visit was not going to change that.

  “Yes, he is. And sweet, too. What are you doing here, Marc?”

  “I just wanted to see my child. Do you have an issue with that?”

  “Yes. Of course I have an issue with that. You haven’t been here. You wanted nothing to do with me, with us really. And you come up here and act like I’m in the wrong because I was waiting to respond to you for a minute.”

  “It’s kind of an absurd thing to play games over, Alison. Don’t you think?”

  “I wasn’t playing games! I didn’t want to deal with you.” She took the framed picture of Zach out of his hands and placed it back on the mantel. She didn’t even want him holding the photograph. “I still don’t.”

  “Well, I’m afraid that’s not just up to you.”

  As he said it, he realized that his approach might be off. He was so used to being adversarial with Alison that he didn’t know any other way. Even their sex life had the tone of sparring partners rather than lovers—pleasuring each other was more about who was in control than actual pleasure.

  “Of course it’s up to me. I’m the parent of record.”

  Seeing the photo of the baby, his baby, had him imagining things way more consequential than a bid for Gracie Mansion. He recognized that his line of questioning was going poorly and redirected. “OK, withdrawn. I’ve had a change of heart, and for the sake of our son, I want to discuss how I can be a part of his life.”

  His saying “our son” threw her. She was not giving in so easily.

  “I will agree to discuss this another time, but not unannounced at eleven on a Thursday night.”

  “I’m on trial, and there was more traffic than expected,” he said, adding in a kinder tone, “I’m sorry.”

  She took a little pity on him. “Well, you came all this way. I imagine you want to come up and see the baby in person?”

  A look of panic washed over his face, surprising her. Marc was known for his poker face in court. She was shocked that her offer elicited such an obvious nervous reaction. He answered, counter to his expression, “I would like that. Thanks.”

  As he followed her up the stairs, she wondered if he hadn’t purposefully come so late at night to avoid meeting the baby. But why? she thought. What would be the point?

  As they stood at his crib, she turned on the night-light so that Marc could get a good look at him.

  “He’s so small,” he said.

  “Actually, his pediatrician said he’s in the ninetieth percentile in weight and height.”

  She examined Marc’s face for another telling reaction. Good stats of any kind were just the thing that would usually get a rise out of him. He didn’t disappoint as he smiled from ear to ear.

  “I’m sorry, but I don’t want to wake him,” she said. There was no way she was dealing with putting him to sleep again after this roller coaster of a night.

  “Oh, no, please don’t. I figured he would be sleeping.”

  It was all so confusing. Who comes to meet their baby when he’s sleeping? She almost asked but thought it best to figure out what she wanted before discussing anything further with him. Her gut told her that there was more to this visit than he was letting on.

  CHAPTER 28

  Alison & Olivia

  The Hudson Valley Community Library was the oldest building in town, dating back to 1803. While its churchlike stone facade now contrasted greatly with its updated modern interior, the words inscribed over the front door still rang true: “Medicine for the Soul.”

  Circle Time at the library had long been the go-to class for the mommy-and-me set. It was well attended by a wide variety of neighborhood moms, and sometimes dads, with infants to entertain. Alison and Olivia had been excited for their first baby class, but today neither of them was really into it. They both needed a bit more “medicine” than was being offered at the library to soothe their worried souls.

  Alison arrived first and secured them a spot in the proverbial circle, her min
d still reeling from the events of the previous night. One glance at Olivia and she forgot her own troubles. Her friend looked like a shell of herself. The spark of light in her eyes, which had been one of the first things that Alison noticed when she had jogged into the real estate office, was completely extinguished—by tears, no doubt.

  Olivia had spent the last two days running the gamut of emotions and had settled on anger. Spencer’s rogue phone was burning a hole in her pocket like the smoking gun that it was. She had yet to bring it up or give it up. His obvious frustration about its absence was her only source of satisfaction.

  It was almost comical when they placed their babies on the colorful parachute in front of them, both determined to power through “If you’re happy and you know it, clap your hands” without contradiction. While the stamp your feet part of the song offered some relief, the big finale, “The Wheels on the Bus,” couldn’t come soon enough. They both softened a bit during bubble time. Wayward bubbles landed on their babies’ noses and eyelashes, prompting scrunched-up expressions of delight that neither of them had witnessed before. But the joy was short-lived. It may have been the first time in Olivia’s life that she wasn’t in seventh heaven within the walls of a library. They agreed that it wasn’t the day to stay for the new-mom mingle and skipped out to Alison’s house to strategize.

  “You go first,” Alison suggested, recognizing that Olivia’s issues surpassed her own. Olivia pulled out the phone and placed it on Alison’s coffee table. Alison picked it up to inspect it.

  “I can’t unlock it. I’ve tried nine passcodes. One more and it’ll be frozen.”

  Alison placed it down, ceremonially. “We can’t have that. Should I ask Andie?”

  “I think so, if you don’t mind.”

  She texted Andie the question and fixed them a nice lunch of fresh fruit, yogurt, granola, and a locally sourced artisanal honey recommended on the bulletin board while they waited for a response. They sat down at the kitchen table, where neither of them did more than pick at their bowls.