Babyland

by Holly Chamberlin

  “You know he wants you,” I said. “And that he needs you.”

  “Yes,” Alexandra said. “I should be content with that but I’m not. I want it to be like old times, when I knew everything. I knew what brand of toothpaste he used. I knew how he took his coffee. I knew that when he was in the car alone he liked to listen to NPR. I knew everything.”

  Not everything, I thought. Not how he acted alone with his wife. Not where his comb rested on their bathroom sink. Not the color of the bathrobe she bought him or the way he looked at her while she was sleeping. Not what he felt the first time he saw her holding their firstborn child. Not those intimacies.

  I said nothing, just nodded encouragingly. The sun was warm; the gardens were alive with color; the sound of a child’s laughter reached my ears. My soul, however, didn’t feel particularly soothed.

  “Now,” Alexandra went on, more to herself than to me, “I know nothing. I know nothing about what for the past eight years made him happy or sad. Are his parents still alive? What books did he read? What HBO series was he addicted to? Where was he on September 11th, 2001, when he heard about the attack on the World Trade Center? I know nothing.”

  Alexandra’s words made me think. I knew virtually everything about the daily Ross. I’d been with him almost every day for the past year. And yet, what did I really know about him, beyond the habits and behavioral traits? What had I really learned about him during our time together? Why hadn’t I asked some important questions?

  “But you’ll learn,” I said. “You’ll ask questions.”

  Alexandra gave a small smile. It looked pained.

  “Oh, sure,” she said. “But it’s odd to know so very little about the life of someone you love so much. It’s not like we were writing letters or e-mailing or talking on the phone. It all just—stopped. And I never knew what he was thinking about me. I never knew if he regretted ever having met me. I suspected he might. I doubted his love even then.”

  I don’t know what made me say what I said then. “Maybe,” I said, “maybe you didn’t doubt his love as much as think you weren’t worthy of it.”

  Alexandra paused over this. “Astute,” she said finally. “You’re right. I guess I couldn’t imagine love that big.”

  “Though you felt love that big for him?”

  Alexandra shook her head. “Inconsistent, aren’t I?”

  “Human.”

  We walked along without talking for a while. I looked for mothers with their children. And I wondered what their husbands were doing after hours.

  “It’s like he was a prisoner of war,” Alexandra said suddenly, “or missing in action, and I was his lover waiting alone at home, waiting for some news. Except that I knew Luke was alive, and I wasn’t really waiting, was I?”

  I didn’t know the answer to that question. I said, “You were living your life. You had your career and your friends and—”

  Alexandra interrupted. “I think maybe I was waiting. After my divorce, anyway. Though I never would have admitted it, not even to myself.”

  “Maybe,” I said, “you were in a state of renunciation. Or of resignation.”

  “Resignation masking an unconscious state of anticipation. Expectation.” Alexandra laughed. “Boy, life is weird.”

  “Alexandra,” I said gingerly. “What if it doesn’t work out?”

  “It will. We’ll make sure of that.”

  “But—”

  “No buts. I can’t stand to think about another end. We’ve had our end. Now it’s time for our beginning.”

  After a moment I said, “I’m happy for you, Alexandra. Really. But this is taking some getting used to.”

  “I am so hungry,” Alexandra said suddenly. “My appetite has almost doubled since Luke came back. Let’s get lunch.”

  “I guess I could eat something,” I said unenthusiastically.

  “Still battling nausea?”

  “No, not really,” I said. “I just feel a little off.”

  Alexandra didn’t press the matter. “Look at us, Anna,” she said musingly. “What incredibly divergent paths our romantic lives have taken.”

  “You’ve had adventures. You’ve taken chances. I’ve kept to the straight and narrow.”

  Alexandra gave me a close look. “I’m beginning to think,” she said, “that the straight and narrow is kept to by very few people. I’m beginning to think that maybe the straight and narrow doesn’t even exist.”

  I felt uncomfortable under Alexandra’s scrutiny. “Are you saying life might surprise me yet?”

  “I’m saying that you might surprise yourself yet. Far stranger things have happened, Anna.”

  We walked across the Commons to a small comfort food place called Pasha. I had little appetite but ordered a tuna salad sandwich.

  “I’ll have the cheeseburger and fries,” Alexandra told the waitress. “And do you have real Coke, not diet?”

  “Your appetite has improved,” I commented when the waitress had gone off with our order.

  Alexandra grinned. “I know. And I’m not even worried about gaining weight. How bizarre is that? Oh, and Anna, I need to ask you a favor.”

  “Sure,” I said. “Anything.”

  “Would you not tell anyone about Luke and me? I had to tell you, you’re my closest friend, but I want to keep Luke to myself for a while. I want to keep us private.”

  “Of course,” I assured her, hoping my crime wasn’t stamped across my face. “Your secret’s safe with me.”

  “I’m not ashamed,” she explained. “And I don’t see a reason why when I do introduce my friends to Luke I have to reveal the whole tragic story.”

  “I understand,” I said, but I wondered about the shame factor.

  Our lunch came, and Alexandra tucked in like the proverbial truck driver. I took one bite and chewed unenthusiastically.

  “So,” I said, “if it’s okay to ask, what really happened with Luke and his wife?”

  “What happened is that his wife decided she didn’t want to be married any longer.”

  “Just like that?”

  “Well, according to Luke it was out of the blue. Right after dinner one night. He went out back to turn off the sprinklers and she followed him. Told him right there on the lawn that she wanted him to move out.”

  “Oh,” I said. “What reason did she give for wanting a divorce?” Please, I prayed, don’t let there be accusations of spousal abuse.

  “She said she was leaving on grounds of incompatibility. I’m not even sure she needs a reason in the state of Massachusetts. I don’t remember; I’ve blocked out most of my own legal experience. Anyway, I suspect her decision wasn’t made on the spur of the moment. Can you imagine making such a monumental decision in the snap of a finger?”

  “Not really,” I said. My personality precluded the possibility of spontaneous decision making, even regarding something as insignificant as choosing a breakfast cereal. “But what about the children?” I asked. “Didn’t Luke stay in the marriage for the sake of the children?”

  “He did indeed. For the sake of the family unit.”

  “So,” I asked, tentatively, “isn’t he still trying to keep the family unit in place?”

  Alexandra’s mouth tightened just a bit. “Of course. He asked her if she’d properly considered how a divorce would affect the kids. And she said something like, Now that the kids are on their way to college and not lunatic drug fiends and basically well adjusted, I don’t see a problem with leaving.”

  “Maybe she was just beating him to the punch,” I conjectured.

  “No. When Luke made the decision to stay in the marriage, it was for good. Not just until the kids were on their own.”

  “Ironic, isn’t it?”

  “That’s one word for it.”

  Disturbing is another, I thought. There I was, on the cusp of married life, and suddenly I was spending an awful lot of time talking about infidelity and the dissolution of an almost twenty-year marriage.

  “Do y
ou think his wife ever knew about you?” I asked. And I wondered, Would it be better to know that your husband is having an affair? Or would it be better to live in ignorance? If you know about a problem you have the opportunity to fix it, or at least to try. But if you don’t know about a problem, does the problem even exist?

  Alexandra sighed. “I don’t know. I’ve never understood how a person could not know she’s being cheated on. Even if there’s no damning evidence lying around, there’s got to be less tangible evidence. Right?”

  “Right,” I said. But I didn’t really know. I’d never been cheated on. Had I?

  “Some people just don’t want to see the truth,” Alexandra went on. “As long as the wheels of the marriage are turning they can accept a few suspicious creaks and groans. And some people just can’t see the truth because they’re so wrapped up in their own version of reality. I suppose I could ask Luke if his wife ever confronted him about having an affair. I could ask him if he ever confessed.”

  “Confessing at this point would just open a huge, messy can of worms,” I said. “And it would probably make a divorce a lot more costly for him. Besides, what purpose would that information serve now? What would either of them gain? Unless he told her in anger, like a slap in the face, punishment for her crime. You’re leaving me? Fine. Well, I had an affair. So there.”

  Alexandra put down the fork with which she was spearing the last of her fries. “I don’t think he would do something so unkind.”

  “Unless she knew all along,” I mused. “Maybe she’s punishing him now by walking out.”

  “This conversation has taken a horrid turn.”

  “I’m sorry,” I said. “My point is that confessions are highly overrated.”

  Alexandra looked at me closely. “Is lying a better alternative?”

  “Kinder, sometimes,” I said. “Don’t you think? Especially if a mistake was made only once. I know, it’s pick-and-choose morality. I just think that sometimes confessions make the confessor feel noble or forgiven but leave the confessee feeling devastated. People should think carefully before they reveal their sins.”

  “I see you’ve thought carefully about this topic.”

  I laughed. “And yet I’ve never had something awful to reveal. Not that I’m perfect. But seriously, I guess I just fear being the confessee.”

  “What you don’t know won’t hurt you?”

  “Ignorance is bliss. I know,” I said. “How ridiculous.”

  “Well, there’s definitely something to be said for self-restraint,” Alexandra admitted.

  “For knowing when to keep your mouth shut.”

  Alexandra raised her glass to mine. “For sticking a sock in it.”

  “For stuffing the pain way down into your gut!”

  “For stoicism!”

  For not acting on your impulses, I added to myself. For doing without what you want. For doing without what you need.

  “Did you ever try to contact Luke?” I asked then. “I mean, after your divorce.”

  “No. Absolutely not.”

  “You have enormous self-discipline.”

  “It had nothing to do with discipline,” she said. “It had to do with kindness. I didn’t think Luke needed my poking into his life again. I’d already done enough damage, unintentionally, of course. Besides, I was afraid. I knew I couldn’t handle his anger or disappointment. It was bad enough that I imagined it.”

  I picked up the sandwich I’d ordered and then put it down again. I made a mental note to talk to my doctor about more vitamins and supplements.

  “I really can’t imagine what you’ve been going through all this time,” I said. “I mean it, Alexandra. I truly can’t imagine.”

  “Your life hasn’t been a complete lark,” she pointed out.

  “No, but I’ve never had my heart broken.” And as soon as I marry Ross, it never will be. “It was selfless of you,” I said then, “not to go to his wife and cause trouble.”

  “Selfless? I don’t know about that. If I made a stink with Luke’s wife it would have ruined any feelings he might still have had for me.”

  “Still,” I said, “it was good of you to back away.”

  “Whatever. Maybe I’m not a total jerk. But I’m certainly not a saint. No one is.”

  I smiled. “Not even Mother Teresa?”

  “I can’t believe there wasn’t something in all those good works for her. She was human, wasn’t she? Maybe a bit more, but she was born from a woman after all. Isn’t that the point of Jesus, too? Son of both God and Man?”

  “I’m not religious enough to know,” I admitted.

  “It’s not about religion,” Alexandra said dismissively. “It’s about human nature. But we’re off the topic. And maybe we should be. You must be bored by my romantic travails.”

  I laughed. “Alexandra, how many times do I have to say this? If there’s one word I never associate with you, it’s boredom.”

  “My time will come. You know, when I’ve got the blue hair.”

  I shuddered and attempted another bite of the sandwich. Alexandra had ordered another Coke and piece of apple pie.

  “Aren’t you afraid he’ll go back to his wife?” I asked tentatively.

  “No,” she said. “I’m not afraid. He won’t go back. And even if he wanted to, which he doesn’t, she wouldn’t take him back.”

  “How can you be so sure?”

  Alexandra looked at me steadily, as if to make sure I got the message. “I’m sure,” she said. “Anyway, he’s kind of in shock, of course. He never expected her to go. How well did he know her, after all?”

  How well, indeed. Maybe, I thought, if Luke had paid more attention to the woman he’d married, then—What? Then Alexandra might never have met him. Would that have been a good thing or a bad one?

  “But now, he’s free,” Alexandra was saying. “He feels liberated. He won’t go back. What would he go back to?”

  To the familiar, I thought. To the status quo. To the public face of respectability.

  Who am I kidding, I thought. Marriage doesn’t automatically confer respectability. Why should it?

  “You have such faith in him,” I said. “I’m impressed by that. I feel that you deserve this chance with your one great love.”

  “I don’t know about deserving the chance,” Alexandra replied promptly. “I don’t think the world works fairly. I don’t think anyone gets what she really deserves, good or bad. But the chance is here and I’m taking it, and if I don’t take it wholeheartedly, what’s the point in taking it at all?”

  I laughed. “You aren’t very good at doing things halfway. That’s true.”

  “Love isn’t half-hearted, Anna. It’s like the song says, all or nothing at all. Love is either there or it isn’t. Love is easy that way. It’s not confusing. It’s very simple. I like that about love.”

  Love, simple?

  “I don’t know how you can say that love is simple,” I argued. “Maybe for some people it is, but for other people it’s horribly complicated. What happens when you find yourself in love with someone you’re not supposed to be in love with?”

  “What does that mean?” she said, eyeing me curiously. “‘Supposed to’ has nothing to do with love.”

  “Of course it does,” I protested. “You’re not supposed to fall in love with a married man. You’re not supposed to fall in love with someone so different from you he’d irrevocably disrupt your life and just make a mess.”

  “I gather you’re not talking about Ross,” Alexandra said, folding her napkin and placing it next to her empty plate. “The man probably never even made a mess in a mud puddle.”

  “I’m not talking about anyone in particular,” I retorted. Of course, Alexandra knew I was lying. But I could pretend to ignore that fact.

  What had she said about people who choose not to see the truth?

  And then I thought, When you say you have to grab love when it shows up, even when it means hurting someone in the process—like a w
ife or a husband—aren’t you just creating an excuse for selfish behavior? Aren’t you just saying, forget willpower and self-control and sacrifice. Just take what you want and if someone gets destroyed in the process, well, so be it. That’s life. That’s the way the ball bounces and the cookie crumbles.

  “So, it’s okay to cheat on someone if—”

  “I don’t advocate cheating, Anna,” Alexandra said firmly. “I do advocate love. Anyway, what are we really talking about here? Not me any longer, that’s for sure.”

  “Nothing,” I said, with a dismissive wave of my hand. “I guess I’m just tired. I feel a bit confused. I haven’t been sleeping very well lately.”

  Alexandra popped the last piece of apple pie into her mouth. “Maybe you need more exercise and fresh air.”

  “Maybe,” I said, “I do.”

  54

  Sur L’Herbe

  “Look at those azaleas, Ross,” I said. “Have you ever seen anything so beautiful? The pinks are so clear and clean.”

  On Alexandra’s assertion that exercise and fresh air cure all ills, I pressured Ross to spend an afternoon with me at the Harvard Arboretum. Ross isn’t much of a nature lover. Even a well-manicured path through a formally sculpted garden has little appeal for him.

  “Oh,” he said, “that reminds me. I picked up a few new shirts at Brooks Brothers yesterday. I thought my wardrobe needed a little more rounding out in the nouveaux classics department. I got one in a sort of dusty rose, which I think works wonderfully with my complexion.”

  “Good,” I said.

  And there he was. Jack, camera in hand, tripod on a strap over his shoulder, striding closer to a bank of white azaleas. I watched, heart racing, as he squatted then stretched out on his stomach to get the shots he wanted.

  “So,” Ross said, “I’m thinking of starting these special vitamins for people doing the low-carb thing. They’re over-the-counter so I don’t have to bother seeing my doctor first, which is great because I swear it takes a month to get in unless you have an emergency.”

  “Mmm,” I said.

  Maybe, I thought, Jack won’t see us. Maybe Ross won’t see Jack and I can pretend not to see him, either. Maybe, I thought, I can ignore him, cut him dead and explain later.