“Is Jack staying here also?” Will asks his mother.
She nods. “He’s bringing Tiffany again.”
“Wow.” Will seems impressed. “Didn’t he bring her to Christmas last year? That’s got to be a record.”
Jack is Will’s older brother, who lives locally and has some administrative job at the university. He’s a nice enough guy, but in personality, he’s very much the opposite of Will. While Will has focused most of his life on his career, Jack’s mission in life seems to be dating as many college girls as possible. He’s very suave when it comes to the opposite sex, while it took Will nearly a year of knowing me before he worked up the nerve to tell me how he felt.
“Maybe Tiffany is the one,” Maxine says, although she sounds doubtful. I don’t blame her. Tiffany was all of twenty-two to Jack’s nearly forty years, and she wasn’t exactly wise beyond her years. She was very attractive though—I’ll give her that.
Will rifles through his luggage and pulls out a stack of papers and his laptop. I recognize it immediately as one of his files from work, and I cringe. “What time are we eating?” he asks.
Maxine eyes the papers. “Five o’clock. Why?”
“I just need to get a little work done before dinner,” he says.
Her eyes widen. “You haven’t even said hello to your father yet!”
He shrugs. “Okay. So I’ll say hi to Dad, then I need to do some work.”
Maxine gives me a look and I just shake my head. Yes, my fiancé is a workaholic. Yes, it’s gotten out of control lately. But what am I supposed to do about it? Stage an intervention?
Hmm. Maybe I should stage an intervention.
Before I can put any more thought into this, the doorbell rings, presumably announcing the arrival of Jack and Tiffany. Thankfully, Will abandons his laptop and pile of papers, and joins us in going to the foyer, where Will’s father has already opened the door.
I’ve met Jack probably a dozen times in the years I’ve been with Will. He’s not as cute as my boyfriend is, but he probably spends more effort on his attractiveness. Will wears glasses, while Jack has extolled the virtues of Lasik surgery. He gets his hair cut in the trendiest styles, although he takes into account that you can’t pull off a Justin Bieber haircut when you’re almost forty. Still—they look alike. Nobody would doubt they were brothers. The biggest difference, obviously, is that Jack can walk and Will can’t.
Standing next to Jack is his girlfriend Tiffany. Tiffany is generically pretty, like a girl in some Disney television show. She’s tall and blond and blue-eyed, with a naturally slim build. She’s wearing a bit too much make-up, but it’s obvious she’d be gorgeous without it. She also looks young—it’s clear she’s at least a decade younger than Jack.
And one other thing:
Tiffany is visibly pregnant.
She’s not maybe-pregnant, like she put on a few pounds and now everyone is afraid to ask. She’s wearing what’s clearly a maternity blouse, and her round belly juts out from her slim body. She’s definitely pregnant. Will’s father, Ira, seems like he’s not quite sure what to make of the whole thing.
Maxine notices at the same moment I do. She covers her mouth with her hand, her eyes wide. “Jack!” she gasps.
Jack smiles crookedly. “We have some news…”
I look over at Will, whose jaw is hanging open. Well, at least he’s forgotten about work. For the moment.
We all head into the living room so that Jack can tell us the whole story while clutching Tiffany’s hand in both of his. Tiffany is five months pregnant, but they’ve only known for two months. Since discovering Tiffany’s situation, they moved in together, and then a week ago, they got married at City Hall. Tiffany is now Jack’s wife.
And Will and I still haven’t managed to get married.
“Congratulations!” Will sputters. “That’s… wonderful.”
“Yes,” I add, hoping my enthusiasm doesn’t sound forced. “Congratulations.”
Maxine keeps shaking her head. “I… I’m just so surprised. But Jack, this is really wonderful news! Why didn’t you tell us sooner?”
Jack lets go of Tiffany’s hand and squeezes her knee. “Tiff and I weren’t sure yet what we wanted to do about getting married, and I knew that if you knew she was pregnant, you’d be annoying about the whole thing.”
“No, I wouldn’t!” Maxine cries.
“You probably would,” Will’s father says.
“Anyway,” Jack says, “I thought it would be a good, you know, Thanksgiving surprise. To get a new daughter-in-law and find out that you have a grandchild on the way.”
As Maxine beams, my stomach sinks. All I can feel is sharp stabs of jealousy in my gut, and I hate it. Jack and Tiffany look so happy together, and I so want to be happy for them. But all I can think of is that Tiffany has everything I want. I want to be married. I want to be five months pregnant. I want to be freaking twenty-two again. And yes, we have those tickets to Vegas, but there’s part of me that can’t help but worry that something might get in the way of that and it might be years before we end up getting married.
As for getting pregnant, that’s probably never going to happen.
Damn it. I wish I weren’t stuck in goddamn Utica. I just want to go home. So badly.
“Do you know if it’s a boy or a girl?” Maxine asks.
Tiffany nods. “We do, but we’d like to keep it a secret.”
Will snorts in Jack’s direction. “Lame, Jack. Just tell us.”
Jack holds up his hands. “Hey, I’ve got to do what the wife tells me to do.” He grins slightly when he says the word “wife.”
“You’ll find out in another few months,” Tiffany says smugly.
“How about college?” Ira says. “How will Tiffany finish once she has the baby?”
“I already finished in June!” Tiffany shakes her head. “I got my bachelor’s in communication. I’m working for a local politician until the baby comes, but then I’ll probably stay home for a bit.”
Another jab in the chest. Tiffany is a college graduate and I’m not. Why is everything so goddamn hard for me?
I keep a smile plastered on my face as the family fires questions at Tiffany and Jack. Yes, she’s got a good obstetrician. Yes, she knows where she’s going to deliver. No, they haven’t thought about a baby shower. No, Tiffany does not want Maxine to plan one for her.
“Do you have any yogurt?” Tiffany asks suddenly. “I’ve just been craving yogurt like crazy.”
“It’s true,” Jack laughs. “I’ve been buying her Greek yogurt practically every day and it keeps disappearing as fast as I can buy it.”
Maxine jumps up, suddenly super eager to please Tiffany. Over the last thirty minutes, Tiffany has superseded me as Maxine’s favorite. After all, Tiffany’s busy producing grandchildren and I’m not.
“The cravings are so ridiculous,” Tiffany says to me. “Like, I just feel completely overwhelmed with the need to have yogurt. And raisins too.” She laughs. “Isn’t that wild? It’s like the baby already has preferences even though it’s still inside me.”
“Yes,” I agree.
Oh my God, I don’t think I can sit here anymore and talk about Tiffany’s pregnancy. It’s making me physically ill. I’ve already deleted my Facebook account because it’s become so painful to hear about my pregnant friends, but I can’t block this out.
I hate myself right now. What’s wrong with me? Why can’t I just be happy for Tiffany like Will obviously is?
Maxine returns with a little cup of yogurt, which Tiffany digs into so joyously that I’m forced to fake-laugh along with everyone else. “Thank you so much,” Tiffany says. “And strawberry yogurt is the baby’s favorite.”
I can’t take it anymore.
“Hey, enough about us,” Jack says suddenly, just before I run out of the room and lock myself in the bathroom. “Will, I saw you on television the other day. I was amazed—they actually made you look really good.”
Will grins.
“Yeah, I was in make-up for like five hours before they’d let me on camera.”
“National television… I mean, shit.” Jack shakes his head. “I always knew you’d end up being some famous hot shot lawyer. You’ll probably be on the Supreme Court someday.”
“I think so too!” Maxine says. “Will, all my friends watched you and thought you were great.”
Will’s ears color slightly. “Well, thanks.”
“And Katie Corrigan was totally into you.” Jack pokes him in the shoulder. “How many times did she touch your arm during that interview?”
The flush in Will’s ears invades his cheeks. “She was really nice. Really professional.”
“Sure,” Jack snickers. “Professional.”
“And you were so right about that company,” Maxine says. “I feel sorry for the pigs, of course, but you can’t have thousands of people getting laid off just so that pigs can be living in the lap of luxury.”
“Well, they’re not really talking about the lap of luxury,” I hear myself saying. “The pigs are in crates that are so small that they can barely move. The sows have just enough room to nurse their newborns, but not enough room to even make them nests. Which doesn’t matter because the newborns are taken away at only ten days old, so the sow can be immediately impregnated again.”
Maxine blinks a few times, thrown off by my response. “Yes, but if we’re talking about people losing their jobs…”
“Actually,” I say, “the Hanford Corporation pays workers the minimum wage, and they employ hundreds of illegal immigrants that make even less than that in addition to getting no benefits. Illegal hiring practices aside, with their profit margins, they could easily afford to treat their animals with a little bit of humanity—some of it wouldn’t even cost them a dime. I mean, do you know that they castrate their male piglets, usually without anesthesia, because some consumers don’t like the taste of uncastrated pork?”
It takes a second to realize that everyone is staring at me, possibly because I’m ranting about pig castration. Maybe not the best topic to bring up with my future in-laws. Will probably has the right to be angry, but he actually looks slightly amused.
“Whose side are you on, Libby?” Jack finally says. “Will’s side or the pigs’ side?”
“I’m not on anyone’s side.” I lift my chin. “But I’ve seen the numbers and I know that Hanford isn’t being entirely honest when they say they can’t afford to make the changes that are being asked of them. The cost of purchasing cages large enough that the pigs can, say, turn around is only a small fraction of their profit margin.”
“Hey, Will,” Jack says, “you going to let your woman disagree with you like this?”
A smile twitches on Will’s lips. I almost hope he’s going to start in with his arguments, because I’m so ready. Usually whenever we argue about something like this, he demolishes me, because… well, this is what he does for a living and he’s really good at it. But I’ve spent a long time going through all the facts and figures, and I feel ready for any argument he poses. The same way I hope Stephanie will be ready for him in court.
“I think,” Will says, “that Libby is entitled to her opinion on this. It’s a very nuanced issue and she brings up some reasonable points.” He reaches out and takes my hand in his. “After all, she’s training to be a veterinarian, so part of her job is to look out for the well-being of animals.”
I give Will a squeeze back and he smiles at me. I don’t know what to make of how understanding he’s being about my objections to his case. Maybe he’s just so confident that he doesn’t care what I think. Or maybe, deep down, he agrees with me and secretly hopes that he loses.
_____
Maxine gathers us at the dinner table at just after five o’clock. I end up helping her set the table and bring out the side dishes: stuffing, mashed potatoes, bourbon-glazed sweet potato casserole, green bean casserole, creamed spinach, and cranberry sauce. I can already see those two lost pounds returning to my hips. And then some.
Tiffany offered to help set the table, but Maxine refused because she’s pregnant. “Please, just relax, Tiffany,” she said to her as she put me to work. Will also offered to help, but that was met with outright laughter. I think he gets spoiled at home.
“Is there anything that you shouldn’t eat here?” Maxine asks Tiffany as we all settle down at the table.
Tiffany surveys the food, as if she’s the first pregnant woman in the history of the world to be faced with a Thanksgiving dinner. “No, I think it’s all okay,” she says. “I just shouldn’t eat anything that’s raw. Like, I can’t eat sushi. Oh my God, it’s complete torture.”
Jack laughs. “It’s true. She won’t shut up about it.”
“The second I have this baby, I’m going to go out and get a California roll,” she says. “And it’s going to be loaded with wasabi.” She sighs then smiles in my direction. “You are so lucky you decided not to have kids, Libby.”
Her words feel like a punch in the face. I’m sure she didn’t mean it that way—she probably thought she was being sweet. But that urge to take off running nearly overwhelms me.
“We… we might have kids,” I say, glancing at Will. “After we get married.”
“Oh!” Tiffany seems genuinely surprised. “Sorry, I just thought that you… you know, since you’re older and all…”
Older? Is she kidding me? Okay, fine, I’m probably ten years older than she is. But it’s not like my eggs have shriveled up and died. Tiffany probably thinks that I’m at least forty, the way she’s talking. Which would be fine if I were forty-five or thereabouts, but I’m only thirty-two—not quite ready for menopause.
“I mean,” she adds quickly, “Will, you’re older than Jack…”
“Actually, I’m younger than Jack,” Will says.
I look at Will, who doesn’t seem at all bothered by this line of conversation. Apparently, he doesn’t care if dear Tiffany thinks he’s a million years old. But for the record, he does not look older than Jack.
“We’re close in age,” Jack says quickly, which makes me slightly concerned that he somehow didn’t tell his blushing bride his real age. Oh well. That’s his problem. I’ve got enough of my own.
Maxine quiets us down and takes her seat at the head of the table. She’s the happiest I’ve ever seen her, and I know it’s because of Tiffany’s pregnancy and the shotgun wedding. She’s absolutely beaming right now, her cheeks glowing with color.
“So before we eat,” Maxine says, “we’re going to go around the table and say what we’re thankful for.”
I cringe. This is a ritual in the Kaplan family that I don’t really care for. In my household, we just dug into the food the second it hit the table.
“I’ll start.” Maxine smiles at us. “I’m very thankful to have our family gathered here today. And I’m so thankful for our newest member of the family, and for the new little addition that she’s going to bring to us in the spring.”
Tiffany and Maxine exchange smiles, as only two people suddenly connected by blood can do.
“I’m thankful for all that same stuff Maxy said too,” says Ira. He’s a man of few words. And for that, I’m thankful.
Now it’s Tiffany’s turn. She puts her hands together, like she’s praying. I can tell this isn’t a ritual she’s used to either, but she’s definitely decided to embrace it. “I’m thankful for my wonderful husband,” she says. “And for my new family. And also, I’m thankful that my little son or daughter—not telling which!—doesn’t kick me too often when I’m trying to sleep.”
Jack smiles at this. God, this is such a fetus lovefest.
“And I’m thankful,” Jack says, “for my beautiful wife, who is about a million times more beautiful now that’s she’s got my child growing inside her.”
“That was so lovely, Jack.” Maxine is legit tearing up now. She dabs at her eyes with a napkin and turns to me. “Libby, your turn.”
I look down at my (relatively) flat stomach
. What am I supposed to say right now? What am I thankful for? That I’ve got a fiancé whose sperm can’t get me pregnant? That he works so hard defending a despicable company that I hardly see him anymore? That he can’t seem to make time to marry me? That I’m flunking my biology class and my dream of becoming a vet is going down the toilet? What the fuck am I supposed to be thankful for?
Oh great. Now I’m crying.
At first, it seems like I might be able to contain the tears forming in the corners of my eyes. But nope, I can’t. They spill over and now I look worse than Maxine does. But I’m obviously not crying tears of happiness like she is. I don’t think anyone at this table thinks that.
Everyone is staring at me. Will looks absolutely stunned.
“Excuse me,” I mumble as I swipe at my tears with the back of my hand. I push my chair away from the table, nearly toppling it to the floor. I walk briskly out of the room to our bedroom and shut the door. The damn thing doesn’t have a lock, of course. So anyone can burst in and see me sobbing into the bedsheets.
Okay. I recognize, in retrospect, that I got overly emotional for absolutely no reason. What kind of psychopath starts sobbing right in the middle of Thanksgiving dinner? I’ll never live this down. How am I going to look my future in-laws in the eyes ever again?
I get in about sixty seconds of crying before I hear the knock at the door. “Libby?”
It’s Will.
“Come in,” I mumble into the sheets.
He opens the door and wheels himself inside, thankfully shutting it behind him. He wheels right up to where I’m lying on the bed, and he reaches out to touch my cheek. Strangely enough, he doesn’t ask me why I’m crying. He just sits with me for several minutes while I attempt to get control of my emotions.
“I’m sorry,” I finally say. “I acted ridiculous.”
He shakes his head. “No. It’s okay. I get it.”
I lift my bloodshot eyes to look at him. He does? “You do?”
He nods. “Yeah. I… I also felt sad about Jack knocking Tiffany up without even trying. I’ve always wanted kids more than he did. He didn’t even really want kids at all. I feel like…” He sighs. “It’s all my fault, Libby. You’re normal—I’m the one who can’t manage to get you pregnant. Do you know how that makes me feel?”
(Almost) Happily Ever After Page 16
