When I'm Not Myself

by Deborah J. Wolf

  “Sure, absolutely.”

  Cara finished her second drink, sucking it back and letting it dull the base of her skull. She would have to call Jack soon and tell him to keep the kids for the night and she hoped that he wouldn’t ask her where she was or what she was doing. He had no business knowing and it shouldn’t matter to him, anyway, but she wondered if maybe it did. Not because she couldn’t come retrieve their children, but because he really wanted to know where she was and what she was doing.

  “I should call Jack,” she slurred, sleep creeping in and settling over her. “You’re going to have to take me home, at least for a while. I can’t drive.”

  He snuck a smile at her and laughed, paying the bill at the same time. “Okay, Cara.”

  Cara’s heels might have been mistaken for tap shoes as she click-clacked across the sterile, freshly mopped lobby floor. The hospital reeked of too much antiseptic and made her stomach lurch. Katie’s panicked call had come in on Cara’s cell phone just after midnight.

  “I have to go. It’s Barbie’s baby,” Cara said; shaking off the headache that pounded at her temples. She fished around the bottom of her bag for her car keys.

  “You can’t drive, Cara.” He rolled toward her, and sat up on the edge of the bed, pulling a T-shirt over his slight frame. In the shadowy room, his image bounced and danced on the wall, chased by the headlights from a car that passed the flat.

  “I’ll be fine,” she answered him, attempting to stand in her heels but failing radically, shifting and shimmying unsteadily.

  “I’ll take you, Cara,” he said to her and pulled on a pair of black square-framed glasses that she hadn’t ever seen him wear. He’d removed his contacts and needed them for driving. In the unfamiliar light, he looked like a stranger to her. He pulled on a pair of jeans over the black boxer briefs he was wearing and buttoned them from the bottom up, then slipped on a pair of flip-flops.

  Cara closed her eyes and shook her head, cursing herself for drinking too much. Dear God, she thought, who am I kidding? David looked as if he was all of twenty-three, stumbling in from a study group in the university library. She would have him drop her at the front door of the hospital. She would call a cab to get them home later. She would take the train up sometime tomorrow to collect her car.

  “You can’t take me, David. Really, it’s too much to ask you to do.”

  He came to her side and embraced her, wrapping his arms around her back so that she couldn’t move. Cara’s arms hung limp at her sides. She couldn’t imagine what she was in for, a trip to the hospital while Barbie was in labor. She should have listened to Jack in the first place; Barbie was far too pregnant to be dealing with all of this. And now Jack would be furious with her for being so inconsiderate. And for what? A night out with David.

  “I want to take you, Cara. It’s okay; I don’t mind. I don’t want you driving. Not like this.”

  She thought of Katie, the countless nights her daughter had gotten behind the wheel of a car and somehow stumbled home, and she knew she couldn’t, moreover that she wouldn’t, do this. “Okay,” she answered him, the muffled sound coming from where her face was pressed against his chest. “Thanks.”

  They walked the block to his car in silence, avoiding any sort of conversation. Cara was all nerves, full of endurance and awake. She couldn’t imagine what lay ahead of her. Barbie’s baby, Jack’s fifth child, was due to make his or her entrance any minute. An undeniable surge of energy overcame her. She felt the need to fly in and rescue her children, an overwhelming sense of protection as if she needed to keep everything in their lives frozen in time, as it were.

  When they arrived at the hospital, David respectfully pulled into the roundabout and let her off. It wasn’t the right time to meet her children and, God, she couldn’t imagine what it would be like for Jack and him to come face-to-face. He left the car idling and went around to open the door for her, pulling her to her feet. She was a mess, the remnants of her professional look long gone. Everything about her was wrinkly, deep creases pressed into the fabric of her black pants and suit jacket.

  “How will you get the children home?” he asked her. He was standing very close, towering over her, and he jingled his keys in one hand, turning them over and over again.

  “I’m sure I can take Jack’s car. I’ll figure it out.” She ran her hands through her hair, trying to bring it to life a bit. “I’ll need the morning off, and I’ll take the train up to the city later so I can pick up my car.” She stepped away from the car then and closed the passenger door firmly. “Thanks again,” she said, nodding at his BMW, “for driving me. I really shouldn’t have been on the road.”

  He smiled at her and leisurely kissed her on the forehead. “It’s okay, Cara. Be well, okay? Everything will be fine.”

  She turned, taking him in one last time. He filled her frame, his presence so easygoing and calm. “David.” She stopped and stood staring at him. “I would. Get married again. Maybe, some day. If it was right.”

  He ran his hands over his day-old stubble and through his hair, then crossed his arms across his chest and leaned against his car, laughing. “Yes, Cara. I knew that about you. I had an idea.”

  They were sitting together on the chipped tile floor of the labor and delivery ward halfway down the hall, outside Barbie’s birthing room. Katie was cradling Claire in her lap while she slept. Will and Jack were sitting on the other side of the hall, brooding and thumb wrestling. Cara saw the four of them from a distance as she ran in her heels, click-clack, click-clack, click-clack, echoing all the way, her black wool coat open and flapping behind her.

  Katie’s frantic, adrenaline-charged voice rattled off the details in double-time with barely a breath in between. “She’s in labor, Mom. Daddy says we have to stay out here but that the baby should be born soon.”

  Claire woke sleepily and reached out her arms to Cara. “Mama.” Cara lifted her easily, and buried her nose in Claire’s strawberry-scented curls. “Barbie’s gonna have her baby, Mama,” she whispered, piercing right through Cara. “Isn’t it great? She’s gonna have her baby tonight.”

  “I know, sweetie,” Cara answered her, and blinked back the tears. She had no idea where to go, the ground beneath her feet foreign. She had no idea where to take her children, or if she should stay at all. Technically, she had left them with Jack tonight. Technically, she’d had an emergency that required him to step up and take responsibility for the four of them. Technically, she should have been home.

  Or out with David Michel.

  Or curled up on a bar stool with Mel and Paige and Leah, martinis and a pack of cigarettes between them.

  Anywhere but here.

  Oh, how she longed right this minute for her friends. Mel, whose rock-solid advice would guide her, so she’d know exactly what she should do. Leah, who would lovingly take her in her arms and wait with her no matter how long it took, reminding her of what a strong woman she was. Paige, who would clasp her hand and cry with her, letting the tears come in great, giant floods until she was drained dry, giant concern heaped on top of her like a pile of blankets.

  Cara stood in the middle of the hall, blinking against the bright fluorescent lights. On the other side of the door, she could make out Jack’s strong voice. Jack’s encouragement, the rise and fall of his delighted pitch, his reassuring support, the undeniable optimism. She felt as if she was miles away, years away, and Jack was encouraging her. Jack with his unfailing pride, his determination.

  She felt him there with her, all over again. She knew there was no greater sense of accomplishment for him than the birth of his children, these four, and the fifth one now, this one coming into this world, coming into this crazy family he had created.

  Cara stood with her children huddled around her, supporting her. She was sure they must have been holding her up; certainly she couldn’t muster the strength to stand on her own accord.

  “Cara.” Jack’s voice shook her awake and she turned to face him. He wore scrubs,
and a cap and mask, but his eyes were unmistakable. He looked her in the eye; the first time she could remember him doing so in a long, long time.

  “How is she?” Cara asked on automatic pilot and pulled her coat closer to her chest. She didn’t want Jack to see her dressed this way, in a crumpled suit that left her looking suspicious.

  “She’s okay. They’re going to give her an epidural now and that should help ease the pain some. She wanted to do it without the drugs, but it’s just too intense. I don’t know why you women have to be so brave, so . . .” He stopped then, realizing perhaps the inappropriate nature of his revelation. Jack cleared his throat and shuffled his feet, staring down at the floor briefly before he looked at her again. “It was good of you to come,” he said simply.

  “Katie called me. I can take them, if you’d like.” Cara studied the span of the wide hall, both north and south. The ward was relatively calm. “Or I can stay.”

  “Would you? Oh, Cara, really? There could be a million complications and, well, I guess I’d just feel better having everyone here with us.”

  Everyone. Cara nodded her head slowly, unsure why she was doing so. Perhaps she felt the need to be with her children. Perhaps she felt that leaving now would have been callous. “We’ll be down the hall. There’s a room with a couple of couches and a TV. We’ll be in there. Come for us when you know where things stand. I’ll stay with them; we’ll be fine.”

  Luke and Will were asleep in minutes, having argued about who got which couch and then collapsing on top of each other. Their hands curled into each other, their heads touched. Cara crept down the hall and found two blankets. She draped one over each of them. Claire was right behind them, excitement overwhelming her only briefly until Cara told her it could be hours before Barbie had the baby and promised that she’d wake her the minute they knew what had happened.

  Only Katie kept pace with Cara, kicking off her shoes and curling her legs up on one end of the last remaining sofa. She and Cara sat facing each other and huddling under a warming blanket that Cara had turned up from one of the delivery rooms.

  “They wrap you in these blankets after you’ve had a baby, but they’re warm, as if they had been taken right out of the oven. There’s nothing, really, that feels better than that. I was so cold after I delivered you, so very cold and awed and overwhelmed. Your body doesn’t know which end is up, really.”

  Katie yawned fully and snuggled farther down on the couch so that only her eyes and nose looked out from under the blanket. “It’s kind of weird, huh, Mom? I mean, you being here and all.”

  Cara nodded. “A little, yes.”

  “Do you think it’s going to be a boy or a girl, Mom?”

  “Kate, I think that’s one of life’s greatest surprises. I’d hate to guess, especially at this point when we’re so close. Let’s just hope that the baby is okay and that the delivery isn’t too hard on Barbie.”

  “That’s nice of you to say, Mom.”

  “What?”

  “About it not being so hard for Barbie. I don’t know, after all this, I guess I would have thought you would just kind of hate her or something.”

  “Oh, Kate, honey . . . It’s, well, it’s so much more complicated than that.” Cara sighed and pulled her knees up to her chest, hugging them tightly and wrapping her arms around her legs. An old air-conditioning unit rattled in one of the corners and churned out small gusts of chilled air that filled the room and kept Cara’s blood racing. After a minute, Cara said, “I guess I did, you know, hate her for what she did to our family, for taking Daddy away from all of us, from all of you.”

  “Yeah, I know. Me, too.”

  “What changed your mind?” Cara asked her.

  “I don’t know. I guess I just figured that she didn’t exactly take Daddy away, you know. I mean Daddy went. He went willingly. I don’t know why, but he did. I used to think it was because he didn’t like us anymore, that he didn’t like having a family and a bunch of kids around all the time, but I guess that’s not it. I mean he’s starting all over again with a whole new kid.”

  “Oh, Katie, I don’t think that was it at all. Daddy loves you. A lot, you know.”

  “Yeah, well, I figured I couldn’t hate him forever.”

  Cara pulled her daughter close to her so that Katie’s head rested on her chest and their breathing became steady and even together. She waited while Katie began to doze off, the weight of her head becoming heavy and significant on Cara’s chest. Cara thought about who she’d become, the transformation this year, and wondered how she’d ever gotten here. It wasn’t so long ago that Jack had left, and she’d been devastated, lost.

  She thought maybe Mel was right, that Cara’s very job was to start over, to take everything she knew about her life with Jack and do it the right way this time, to be someone different from who she’d become with him. She thought about her new career, the clothes and shoes and handbags that defined who people assumed she was when she walked down the street. She contemplated the changes in her hair, the monthly waxes that Mel had her addicted to, the person she’d become when she was with David.

  She gazed at Katie and wondered how they’d survived the year together, how Katie had realized the changes in her life that needed to be made. Surely if Katie could do so, Cara could as well.

  She turned the anger she’d had for Jack over in her mind again and again, and balanced that with her decision to sit here now, her own breathing measured and relaxed, while his new son or daughter came into this world only a corridor away. She felt an intimacy for Jack she hadn’t been in touch with in a long, long time. She no longer desired him, no longer needed him, but only wished for him a goodness that seeped through his every pore and ran the course of his body. She hoped he’d found what it was he’d left her in search of, that his desires would be achieved, his sense of delight fulfilled. She wasn’t at all sure Barbie was the answer, but she realized it wasn’t her place to figure that out.

  She had given herself a gift; she realized that now—the ability to heal from what had been dealt to her, the ability to move on. She had to do this herself, she knew. She had to let go of what she thought her life was supposed to look like in order to accept this new one, this life where she sprawled on the couch, her children around her, waiting for Jack’s child to be born. The sweet taste of independence melted in her mouth like a first bite of pie, and she wanted more.

  Jack rounded the corner to the waiting room just before four AM. His eyes were bloodshot and tired, the tiny capillaries broken. He surveyed the room and pulled the green surgical cap from his head, standing sheepishly in the door frame and unsure of what to do next.

  “Well?” Cara whispered, unwrapping her legs from Katie’s and straightening to stretch her stiff back. She had been dozing off, falling into a fit of dreams that kept jolting her awake.

  “It’s a boy.” It was all Jack could manage, all he knew how to deliver at that moment.

  Cara stood, shaking her legs out and pulling one of the blankets around her shoulders. The air conditioner pumped cold air into the room and shook her alive. His news woke her immediately.

  “Oh, Jack.” She walked to him and stopped short of embracing him.

  He studied her hard, as if he was looking at her again for the first time, aware that she had become someone different. She had ditched her coat and stood in bare feet, feeling shorter but more powerful than ever. She stood in front of him without pretense, shamelessly and willingly.

  “I, I don’t know what to say, Cara. I’m a little, well, I guess I’m just a little overcome with everything.” He looked around the room, studying each of his children as if he wasn’t sure who they were. “Should I wake them?” he finally asked her, uncertain.

  “Never wake a sleeping baby, Jack, you know that.”

  He smiled at her then, comforted. “Right.”

  “You go.” She stood on her tiptoes then and kissed him on the cheek. “You go, and we’ll be here. I’ll be right here with the kids.�
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  He turned then and walked away from her, down the hall until he disappeared from her sight.

  A CHAT WITH DEBORAH J. WOLF

  While on vacation the other day, I picked up Jodi Picoult’s new novel, Nineteen Minutes. I am an avid fan of hers, and probably would have bought the book regardless of whether or not I’d cracked the cover and read the first page. But I’m often particularly taken with the beginning of a book, and usually will buy it if I find the first few lines particularly intriguing, as I did with her new novel.

  The first line of When I’m Not Myself followed me around for days before I sat down and typed it out on the keyboard. There it sat before me, the first line of my second book. I quickly learned that writing your second book is nothing like writing your first. Whereas the first book flowed in long, lyrical sessions, the second sputtered out in fits and starts. It took a while before the rhythm stuck with me.

  I had set out to write a story about women’s friendships, and at the center of this novel, you find the deep, long-lasting, enduring relationship between Cara and her three friends, Leah, Paige, and, in particular, Melanie. Cara and Mel have known each other the longest, but that’s not to say their lives have traveled the same path. I wanted a story where we could look at the judgments women—even the best of friends—make about one another, the things they are willing to forgive and those that they have the hardest time setting aside.

  I’m blessed by the friends in my life; amazing, unbelievably strong females who have known me for years and those with whom I’ve more recently had the pleasure of building a relationship. My best friend came to covet that position on the first day of Mrs. Yamamoto’s seventh-grade math class thirty years ago. We’ve survived junior high, high school, college, life post-university, first apartments, first jobs, weddings, first babies, second babies (and in her case, a third), heartache, heartbreak, and, most recently, fortieth birthdays together. Our lives are nothing alike anymore, and yet I am constantly astonished by the core of our friendship, the years that have solidified the bond between us. I shudder to think what life would be like without her.