by Emily Giffin
chapter eight
MEREDITH
About a week later, Josie sends a cryptic group email requesting that my parents, Nolan, Harper, and I join her for dinner the following evening. She tells us “not to worry” but goes on to say that she has “something important to discuss” with us. She acknowledges how busy we all are, and that my parents might not be keen on the idea of seeing each other, but then essentially insists that we join her the night she is proposing. The whole thing is classic Josie. Calling shots, making demands, creating drama.
Mom calls me within five minutes of the email appearing in our inboxes.
“Do you think this is health-related?” she asks, panic rising in her voice. “Has she had a recent mammogram? Or any doctors’ appointments that you know about? She never tells me anything….”
“Mom, calm down,” I say, putting her on speaker so I can continue to work on the answers to a set of interrogatories due by the end of the day. “She wouldn’t include Harper if it were to tell us about a lump in her breast or anything dire like that. Frankly, I don’t see her including Dad in that conversation, either. At least not initially.”
I quickly change the subject, as the only person I want to analyze less than Josie is my father. I’m certainly not going to tell my mother that he has a new girlfriend, although I’m sure Josie will bring that up tomorrow night, too. Hell, she probably invited her in a separate email.
“When did you talk to her last?” she asks.
“Umm…last Saturday night,” I say. “She called me at some ungodly hour….I was half asleep.”
“Did she sound upset?”
“No, Mom. She just wanted to chat….Apparently she can’t keep track of my please-don’t-call-after-ten rule any more than she can remember not to wear her shoes in my house.”
“So…do you think Josie might actually have good news?” Mom asks with pathetic hope. “Maybe a raise?”
“I doubt it,” I say, thinking that it is more likely to be a financial issue than a raise. It certainly wouldn’t be the first time that Josie asked to borrow money from one of us.
Mom throws out another theory. “Maybe she met someone?”
“Wouldn’t she just tell us that?” I say. “Besides, that doesn’t seem possible given her current Will obsession.”
“I know,” Mom says. “I asked her about the first week of school, and all she really talked about was that little girl….It’s sad….”
“Sad meaning pathetic?”
“Be nice,” she says.
I sigh, taking her off speaker. “I’m trying, Mom. But it’s hard….She’s so selfish. Everything is about her. This email is a case in point.”
“Meredith. Please give your sister a chance,” she says. “You always assume the worst about her. Maybe she wants to talk about Daniel and our trip to see Sophie. Or—”
I cut her off, confident that this meeting has nothing whatsoever to do with Daniel. “I’ll tell you what,” I say. “Let’s see what she wants to discuss. If it’s not something completely self-serving, I’ll start giving her a chance.”
—
THE FOLLOWING NIGHT, when Nolan, Harper, and I arrive at my sister’s house, she is nowhere to be seen. Instead, my parents and Gabe are sitting awkwardly in the living room, a hodgepodge of Josie’s Anthropologie taste and Gabe’s more contemporary leanings. Mom and Dad are both perched on hideous matching zebra-print side chairs that Josie bought at a flea market, while Gabe is kicked back on his leather sofa with a bored look on his face. Obviously I know he and Josie are housemates, but for some reason, I didn’t expect to see him tonight, and his sullen presence irritates me more than usual. Or perhaps I’m just a little more irritated with Josie for pulling this stunt, including a non–family member, and not even bothering to show up on time. It suddenly crosses my mind that her announcement might actually involve Gabe—that maybe they’ve begun to date or are starting some crazy business venture. But I really think he has more sense than to try either, even though they clearly have some dysfunctional connection.
I say a terse hello, not even trying to hide my annoyance, while Nolan overcompensates with a more boisterous than usual greeting, hugging my mother, then my father, and saying all the right son-in-law things. They both adore him, although it’s hard to say how much of that is him and how much is his connection to Daniel. In Dad’s case, I really think it’s the latter, which makes Nolan a constant source of both comfort and sadness to him. Inevitably, when they get together, the conversation will turn to the past, and they will rehash the same old stories, Little League games, and inside jokes. And even if they start out with laughter, Dad always ends up crying while Nolan does the consoling, proving it’s way easier for a friend to move on than a parent.
“C’mere, Harper sweetie!” Dad says, still standing. His arms are outstretched.
I glance over my shoulder at Harper, who doesn’t move, just continues to pet Revis, Josie’s poorly trained rescue dog.
“Harper,” I say. “Grandpa’s talking to you.”
She looks up, with a blank expression, as Nolan propels her forward with an under-the-breath “go hug Grandpa.” She begrudgingly obeys, backing into my dad’s arms. It is visible evidence that the two aren’t at all close—which Nolan blames on me rather than the alcoholic who checked out of our family. Harper makes a quick escape, then heads directly for my mom’s lap.
“Where’s Josie, anyway?” I say, pacing in front of the fireplace as I inspect her lineup of photographs—various snapshots of her with Gabe and other friends, along with one of Harper. There are none of me, Daniel, or our parents.
“She’s just getting out of the shower,” Gabe says, his expression inscrutable.
“Harper, honey, go get Aunt Josie,” I say, still pacing.
As Harper hops off of Mom’s lap and scampers down the hall, I make a snide comment about Josie’s time being more valuable than anyone else’s. Nobody bothers to defend her because they can’t. Instead, I sit next to Gabe and ask him point-blank if he knows what’s up.
He gives me a noncommittal shrug. I can never tell whether he dislikes me or just has a prickly personality, but I can count on my hand the number of times he has seemed to be in a genuinely good mood in my presence.
“She hasn’t told you anything?” I ask him. “I find that hard to believe.”
Before he can respond, Harper bursts back into the room, leading Josie by the hand. Her hair is wrapped up in a towel, and she’s wearing sweats that could pass for pajamas. “Hey!” she says, all easy-breezy. “How is everyone?”
“Just fabulous!” I say as sarcastically as possible as Nolan sits on the other side of me and squeezes my knee, in an attempt to either reprimand or calm me.
Josie stares me down, crosses her arms, and says, “Okay. That was so fake.”
“Listen, Josie,” I say. “We’re all a little worried about why you called this meeting tonight.”
“It’s not a meeting. It’s dinner,” she says, tucking a strand of wet hair into her towel as she plops down onto the floor, center stage.
“But you said in your formal group email that you had something to tell us. Didn’t you?” I say.
Josie nods.
“Well?” I say. “What is it, then?”
“Jeez. Settle down, Mere,” Josie says, which pretty much always has the opposite effect on anyone who is even the tiniest bit agitated.
“Josie,” I say, my voice just short of shouting. “Nolan and I are worried. Mom’s worried. Dad’s worried.”
“I’m not really worried, actually,” Dad says. “Should I be?”
“Yes,” I snap. “You should be, Dad.” I want to add—and if you ever thought about anyone other than Daniel, you would be. But I don’t want to confuse the main issue.
“No, he shouldn’t be,” Josie says. “There’s absolutely nothing to worry about here. It’s all good.”
I tense up, thinking that it’s never all good.
“Just tell
us you’re healthy,” Mom says before kissing the top of Harper’s head.
“Perfectly healthy,” Josie says. “I just wanted to have my family over…and talk to you about something….” Her voice trails off.
“Josie,” Gabe finally says; he’s the only one who can ever really reason with her. “Why don’t you just tell them so we can have dinner?”
She takes a deep breath, seeming to relish the moment.
“Wait,” I say, as it occurs to me that her news might not be rated PG. “Are you sure this is okay for Harper to hear?”
Josie glares at me. “Omigod. Could you have any less confidence in me?”
“I’m sorry,” I say. “But I have to put my daughter first.”
“Look, Meredith,” she snaps back. “I really don’t appreciate the implication that I’d do anything—”
“Girls!” Mom pleads. “Please, please don’t fight! This is hard enough—”
“Actually, Mom, there’s nothing hard about tonight whatsoever,” Josie says. “This is a celebration. I have wonderful news.”
I shake my head, feeling certain that I won’t agree, as she stands, looks purposefully around the room, and says in a loud, clear voice, “What I brought you here to tell you is that I’m going to have a baby.” She takes a deep breath, then smiles, looking triumphant.
At least five seconds of stunned silence pass before Harper begins to clap and cheer, mimicking the reaction to our good friends’ pregnancy news last month, clearly unable to distinguish the vast difference between the two scenarios.
“A girl baby?” she asks, her eyes bright.
“Oh. That I don’t know yet, sweetie,” Josie says, beaming as I grind my teeth into my tongue, determined not to be the first adult to speak, especially since the only words coming to mind are what the fuck.
“Hey, Jo,” Gabe says under his breath. “You might want to clarify here.”
She gives him a blank look as it occurs to me, once again, that he might have a role in all of this.
“Your announcement…It’s a bit…misleading,” he says.
When she continues to look befuddled, he gives her his best don’t-be-such-a-dipshit look, then clues the rest of us in. “She’s not currently pregnant,” he says. “It’s just her…plan to become pregnant.”
I watch Mom exhale with visible relief.
“Oh. Yeah. Right,” Josie says with a dismissive wave of her hand. “When I say I’m going to have a baby, I don’t mean that I’m pregnant now. I mean that I plan to get pregnant. As soon as possible.”
“And how do you plan on accomplishing that, exactly?” I ask her.
“I’m going to a sperm bank,” she says. “That’s how.”
I glance at Nolan and take twisted pleasure in the fact that he finally looks annoyed. “Josie,” he says, gesturing toward Harper.
“Oh, c’mon. She doesn’t know what a sperm bank is,” Josie says under her breath, which, of course, is Harper’s cue to ask what a sperm bank is.
“Harper, honey, why don’t you get Revis a bone?” Mom says.
Harper happily takes this suggestion, but before she’s even out of the room, Josie says, “I don’t think there’s anything to be so secretive about….I’m going to want Harper to know where her cousin comes from.”
“Fine,” Nolan says calmly but firmly. “When she’s old enough to understand it…But we’d really like to avoid a discussion about the birds and the bees at age four….”
“That was not my intent,” Josie says, then launches into one of her know-it-all explanations about child development.
I cut her off. “Well, when you have your test-tube baby, you can make those decisions. But Harper is our daughter,” I say. “And we would appreciate it if you kept her out of these discussions.”
Josie stares at me with pursed lips, then says, “First, I don’t think a child should be defined by the circumstances of his or her conception. Second, it wouldn’t be a test-tube baby.”
Before I can respond, Mom says, “What about marriage?”
“What about it?” Josie says, looking defiant.
“Well…are you just…giving up on that idea?”
“Well, Mom. Maybe that will happen later….I hope it does….But I’m almost thirty-eight—”
“Women have babies into their forties now,” Dad says, his first contribution to the conversation.
I glare at him, wondering if he has plans to impregnate his court reporter, as Josie says, “Yes. True. Some do. But it’s risky to wait.”
“You could always freeze your eggs,” Mom says.
“I could,” Josie replies. “But I’m ready for a baby now.”
“Well, it’s all about what you want, isn’t it?” I say.
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Josie asks me. “I’m not allowed to be a mother just because I’m not married? There are plenty of wonderful single parents out there…and conversely, plenty of married people with children who are unhappy, terrible parents.” She gives me a purposeful look, clearly talking about my marriage, if not my mothering, and I feel my anger burning deeper, hotter.
“Do you really think you’re in a position to judge anyone?” I ask my sister.
“I’m not judging. Nor am I asking for advice or permission. I am simply sharing my plan with the people who matter most to me. And I was sort of hoping for a more supportive reaction. Gabe thinks it’s a great idea.”
I look at him, wondering how soon after the birth he will be seeking a new housemate. “Right. Well. With all due respect to Gabe,” I say, “he has no clue what’s involved here. He’s not a parent, now is he? Shit…you told me he forgets to take the dog out when you’re not home.”
Gabe looks at Josie and says, “That happened once.”
“Okay. Well, Dad, what do you think?” Josie says, turning to the third-least-qualified person in the room to weigh in on parenthood.
“I think…I think you have to do what makes you happy,” he stammers as I predict the number of diapers he will help her change could be counted on one hand.
Mom scowls at her ex-husband, then turns back to Josie. “Honey, you know we want to support you….We’re just asking…have you really thought this thing through?”
“Yes,” she says. “I’ve given it a lot of thought. And to be honest, since having Will’s daughter in my class—”
“I knew it!” I shout, cutting her off. “I knew this was about Will.”
“It’s not about Will!” she yells back. “It’s about Edie and my realization—”
I interrupt her again. “If you loved him so damn much, why did you screw up that whole relationship?”
Josie looks as if she’s just been slapped. “Did you really just ask me that?” she says, her voice quivering.
“Yeah. C’mon, Meredith,” Gabe says. “That’s not cool.”
“Well,” I say, crossing my arms and glaring back at him. “She’s the one using Will as an excuse to bring a child into the world.”
“An excuse?” Josie says. “The last time I checked, bringing a child into the world isn’t a bad thing.”
“It is if you can’t properly care for it.”
“Who says I can’t properly care for it? I might not have as much money as you two,” she says, “but I have a job—a great job….And I have friends and family who I thought might want to be involved in this child’s life…but I guess that was too much to ask for.”
“That’s not fair,” Mom says. “Of course we’d want to be involved.”
“Of course we would,” Dad echoes.
Josie looks at me, waiting.
“Sure.” I shrug. “I’ll breeze in for a quick game of Twister…then be on my merry way….Isn’t that what aunts do?”
“Wow. That is so unfair,” Josie says. “I’m totally involved in Harper’s life.”
Gabe chimes in, agreeing with her. “She is, Mere. And you know it.”
“Okay. Fine. But do you have any clue how much easier it is to be an a
unt than a mother?”
“Do you have any clue how big of a bitch you are?” Josie says.
“Josie. Language,” Nolan says, as I announce that we’re leaving. I stand up and walk over to Harper, trying to pull her away from the dog as she whimpers that she doesn’t want to go, that she wants to stay at Aunt Josie’s.
“Fine. Stay with Aunt Josie,” I say, fuming. “In fact, why don’t you move in with Aunt Josie and Uncle Gabe? Since they want to play house and have it all figured out.”
“Meredith,” Nolan hisses, appropriately horrified that I’m taking my anger out on our daughter. My face burns with shame as I catch my breath, then tell Nolan I’ll be waiting in the car.
“Can’t you just sit down?” he says, looking up at me. “So we can all discuss this calmly?”
“No. I can’t,” I say, shaking my head. Then, talking about my sister in the third person, I add, “Would someone please tell her that bringing a child into the world is the hardest thing you can do?”
When nobody answers, I finally turn to walk out of the house, catching the look of anguish on Mom’s face and knowing, in an instant, she’s thinking how wrong I am about this. That watching your child leave the world is actually much harder.
chapter nine
JOSIE
“Well, that went swimmingly,” Gabe deadpans the second the door closes behind Mom and Dad, the two of them giving new meaning to the expression eat and run.
“It’s all Meredith’s fault,” I say. There was no way the rest of us could recover from her outburst and exit, the conversation vacillating between awkward, tense, and downright contentious.
