I hoisted myself onto the truck bed to join her. Lying beside her on that uneven and slightly corroded metal surface, I could smell her delicate floral scent. I could see the beauty mark in the soft crease of her neck. I tried valiantly to avert my eyes from the inch of exposed abdominal skin where the hem of her tank top lifted above the waist of her jeans. She looked sexy and surprisingly taut for a woman who’d birthed three children. Twenty-five years ago, I would have stuck my finger down my throat and mock-gagged at the thought of this moment. Instead, there I was, shifting my position so I could surreptitiously sniff my armpit, praying I didn’t have body odor and trying to recall whether I had spritzed cologne on that morning. I didn’t think I had. Chill out! It’s just Lex! I reminded myself. And yet there I was, wishing we had a blanket so we could stay there all night.
“We were in love,” she said. “All I wanted was to plan a wedding, get pregnant, and make dinner for Jack when he got home from work. I guess watching Leave It to Beaver reruns as a kid must have seeped into my subconscious. I drank the Kool-Aid; I believed in the happily ever after shtick. But then about a year and a half ago—”
Just when it was getting juicy, Lex’s phone buzzed. She looked at the caller ID.
“Hello, this is Lex,” she said, sitting up. “Oh, hi, Stephanie! I didn’t recognize your number. Great! Yes, uh-huh, absolutely! We can do that. Uh-huh, yes, we just got them back in stock. You’ve made a great choice—as you know, it’s one of our hottest items. . . . You know the drill. Just send me an email with your color preferences, the recipient’s address and the baby’s name, and I’ll send it out. Oh, you too, hon. Thank you! Have a great weekend.”
She lay back down next to me. “Work call,” she said apologetically.
“On a Friday night? July Fourth weekend?”
She shrugged. “I recently started this mom-and-newborn-gear company online, and I have to say, it’s doing well, a lot better than I ever expected. We do diaper bags, workout clothes, personalized stationery, jewelry, welcome-home baskets—that kind of thing. I don’t normally get calls this late or on a holiday weekend, but it happens. That woman is a repeat customer and totally nuts, but I love her. She’s got tons of friends and orders a gift the second she finds out one of them has given birth. She makes Jordana look laid-back.”
“That’s fantastic. Good for you!” I said. I wanted to be supportive but was eager to return to our conversation. I cleared my throat. “So, uh, you were saying something about a year and a half ago . . .”
“Right. Well, talk about curveballs and destiny.” Her biting tone returned. “The party line is that I started the business because my three kids were getting older, the little one was in school all day, and there was only so much tennis a girl could play . . .”
“And the non–party line?”
She took a breath. “The non–party line is that about a year and a half ago, I realized that I wanted—actually, needed—to have my own income. I wanted something for me—my own business, my own baby, if you will.”
“So, a lightning bolt just struck you?”
“I wanted another baby,” she said abruptly.
“Oh.” I wasn’t sure how I was supposed to react.
“Jack gave me a flat-out no and said three kids was ‘more than enough.’ He wants to retire as soon as possible and not have to work another eighteen years to support a child.”
“I’m sorry,” I said. I assumed that was the correct response.
“Thanks, but the part that really stung was when he turned it around and said I was impossible to please. He was like, ‘I love you, Lex. I’ve given you everything you’ve ever asked for: a huge engagement ring, a big house in your top-choice suburb, we joined a country club because you wanted it, I even picked up golf and joined a fantasy football league with your friends’ husbands because you insisted these were the people I needed to befriend. You’ve orchestrated our life, and here I am, enjoying it, taking ownership of it, working hard to pay for all of it, and you say I’m embracing it too much? I can’t win!’”
I cringed. “And what did you say?”
“What is there to say? He’s right.” She sighed. “I have pretty much cherry-picked the stuff in his world, and he’s gone along with it. But at some point, I’m not sure exactly when—maybe when he was traveling for work, or playing golf, or grabbing a drink at the club—we grew apart. And the parties and social stuff I’d always prioritized and even gave up Bronx Science for when we were kids—our mothers were right, by the way; I should have gone—are no longer as important to me. I’ve outgrown the need to constantly see and be seen, and now he’s the one who’s miserable missing an event.”
I started nibbling nervously on my thumbnail. I didn’t know what to make of the fact that I was pleased to hear about the stress in her marriage. I also didn’t know what to make of my excitement in hearing that she yearned for another baby her husband didn’t want to give her. I felt evil taking pleasure in her pain. “So, the business? How’d you start it?”
“Well, I knew I didn’t want to bring a child into the world without the support of its father, so I dropped the baby thing and we never spoke about it again. But I promised myself that I’d give birth to something in a different way. Helping other moms felt right. So I started making and selling little bibs and burp cloths to friends, and it took off. I added more products, and word spread, and now it’s a real business.”
“And this fulfills you? It replaces the desire for another kid one day?”
“I wouldn’t go that far. I mean, I’d never say never to another child. I love being a mom. But for the first time in my life, I feel that I could be self-sufficient. And I’m being challenged in a way I wasn’t before. I know I’m not an idiot, but I really didn’t believe I could pull it off. I’ve never experienced that sense of independence. So, yes, this is satisfying. It’s not a baby, and it’s nothing remotely close to the empire Holly has created with her bakery, but it will do, for now.”
I dissected her words. “For now?” I asked. “What does that mean?” I knew I was prying, but as the sole boy in a group of girls, I’d been the nonthreatening, asexual guy-friend sounding board for Becca, Jordana, Holly, and Lex. I was simply reviving my role.
“Jack and I have a partnership, essentially, if you can call it that. There’s a shorthand between us because we’ve been together for so long. Most days we can navigate the ship smoothly. I know how he likes his laundry folded. He knows how I take my coffee. I drive his mother to the grocery store on Wednesdays after I drop him off at the 7:44 a.m. train. In that sense, it’s effortless. You’d look at us and never know how far we’ve strayed from what we were. We wear the right clothes to the cocktail parties. He buys me beautiful jewelry for every birthday and anniversary. We know how to smile for the cameras at the school plays, which, by the way, you would see if you had Instagram or Facebook. But do we talk to each other the moment the valet closes our car door and we head home after a dinner party? No. I don’t remember the last time the two of us were alone and laughed.”
“That stinks. I’m sorry.” I really was. A lack of humor was a deal-breaker for me.
“I’d have said you were insane if you’d told me years ago that my marriage would be one of convenience.”
“So, what are you going to do?”
“Probably nothing. It would take a lot for me to ruin a stable home and traditional family life for my kids. I’m resigned to the situation. I’ve come to accept that this is my fate. And please—it’s not like I’m abused or anything horrible like that. He’s not evil. He’d make someone who wanted the things I thought I wanted very happy. I just feel stifled. That’s all.” She grew quiet. “Actually, you know what I think about a lot?”
“What?”
“I think about what it must have felt like for Becca to lie in that isolation room for two months. I know there were days when she was too exhausted to do anything, but I vividly recall a conversation we had over the phone one day w
hen she was starting to feel better and how she told me that she was itching to pull out the IV tubes and run in that schoolyard across the street from the hospital. That’s sort of how I feel, Seth. I mean I know being a sick child trapped in the hospital is wholly different from being an intellectually uninspired suburban mom, but I’m more than ready for my next chapter. That being said, my kids are my priority. As long as I’m surrounded by them, I know I’ll be okay.”
Lex doesn’t deserve a loveless marriage. I get that she’s staying in it for the kids, but did she learn nothing about how short life is when we all watched Becca suffer, and again now?
“Well, if you ever need anything . . . ” I said genuinely. “Just someone to vent to . . .”
“Thank you,” she said, placing her manicured hand on my forearm. Her fingertips electrified my skin. “Actually, come to think of it, I do need something. Would you take a look at my business plan? I mean, now that you’ve got your own company, maybe you could tell me if I’m doing things right. You’d think, given my degree in marketing, I’d have a clue, but I’m eons out of practice. I asked Jack for his opinion—the guy’s got an MBA from Wharton, after all—but he keeps saying he’ll read it and never does. I suspect that’s because he considers my job less of a business and more of a ‘pastime to avoid watching Bravo TV all day long,’ as he once so eloquently put it.”
“Yowza!” I exclaimed. “Yowza”? I never say that. Where did that come from? I then turned my palm face-up and said, “Hand it over.” For the next twenty minutes, we lay on the bed of Sal’s truck, reading the business plan off her phone. I offered some suggestions, which she took immediately. Just as we were finishing up, Nolan called.
I froze. Should I go with a friendly “Hey, bud” greeting? Or a concerned “How are you holding up?” greeting? Or an angry “Get your ass up here” greeting? I wasn’t sure which tone to set or where my loyalty lay—with Nolan or Becca—and I was acutely aware that Lex was watching.
I opted to go neutral. “Hello?” I picked up, feigning surprise, as if I didn’t have caller ID.
“Hey, Seth, it’s Nolan.”
“Nolan who?” I couldn’t resist. The familiar sound of his subtle lisp made it difficult to stay mad at him.
“Ha ha, very funny. Did you get my text?”
“Uh, which one?” I knew exactly what he was referring to but needed to buy some time.
“The one about setting up the appointment? I know these doctors are in demand and you need to book these things weeks in advance, but could you expedite the process, the way you did with my shoulder surgery?”
Lex was sitting right next to me and could hear everything. “Tell him no!” she mouthed, shaking her finger at me. I grabbed her hand and pulled it down. When I did, neither one of us pulled away. I’m not moving a centimeter, I thought. She’s going to have to be the one to pull away first.
“Yeah, I got the text,” I said, trying to refocus. Our hands have been touching for at least thirty seconds . . . “Listen, lots of doctors and their staff are away over the holiday weekend. It’s a busy time. I can’t do anything tonight.”
“I get that,” Nolan said. “But maybe if you leave a message this weekend and then call again first thing Monday morning?” He sounded desperate.
“Yeah, maybe Monday or even Sun—” I said, but cut myself off when I felt Lex squeeze my hand.
“Becca needs us,” she whispered.
I nodded in acknowledgment.
“Listen, I know you’re probably at work, but honestly, man, the corporate mergers can wait, especially on a holiday weekend. You really should be up here already.”
“Yeah, about that . . . Not sure what my plan is right now.”
“Dude, she needs you.”
“Wait, what?” he said. “What did Becca say?”
“We’re her old friends,” I said. “She told us, okay? Just come up here. It will be all right.” I looked at Lex for support. Our hands were still touching. “You’ll be stronger together than apart,” I said.
A smile crept across Lex’s face. She still didn’t let go of my hand.
Nolan hung up without a goodbye, and we sat there, staring down at the blank screen of my phone, still touching. It was titillating and uncomfortable and scary, all at once.
“I feel like I failed a mission,” I said, to cut the tension.
“Relax,” she said, giving my hand a gentle squeeze. “You did the best you could. You can’t change an asshole.”
“He’s really not an asshole. I promise.”
“Tomato, tomahto.”
“I know you don’t know him very well, but take my word, he’s really a good guy. I don’t think the last twenty-four hours are an accurate representation of his character or his love for . . .” I stopped speaking when I noticed a shadow on the front porch. Lex turned to see the object of my attention. When we saw the shadow transform into the silhouette of a woman, we disconnected our hands. It was like the parting of the sea. I hope that’s not Becca listening in, I thought.
There was a crackling of pebbles as the woman approached. She moved slowly and deliberately. When I shined my light her way, I was relieved to see it was Holly.
“Hey!” Lex greeted her. “I thought you went to bed. Isn’t the pregnant lady supposed to be sleeping?”
“Oh, this pregnant lady can’t sleep.” She groaned and waddled closer to the truck. “So, uh, whatcha doin’ up there?” She sounded a bit winded.
“What? You don’t spend your Friday nights hanging out on the beds of rusty pickup trucks?” I asked.
Holly laughed. “I must say, I can see the temptation with those charming corroded edges and bird-poop stains. You must be loving this, Lex!”
“I’m more daring than you think.” Lex smiled at Holly but shifted her eyes toward me. Is she flirting with me? What’s that supposed to mean?
Holly lifted her right knee onto the bed, but it failed to reach. She tried her left leg, but that didn’t work, either. She attempted backing into a seated position, but even when she stood on tiptoe, it was a lost cause.
She laughed. “This truly may be one of the most embarrassing moments of my life. I think we need some sort of pulley system if I’m going to join you.”
“Wait a sec,” I said, jumping off the truck and running over to the garden by the front porch. “Try this.” I flipped over an empty flowerpot to use as a stepstool.
“Genius.” She smiled, stepping onto the metal bed and cozying up beside Lex. They linked their arms, and Lex leaned her head onto Holly’s shoulder.
“How is the pregnancy going?” Lex asked.
“Other than my inability to gracefully hop onto a pickup truck, it’s going well,” she said. “I mean, I could share details about acid reflux, hemorrhoids, and sciatica, but I suspect Seth has reached his threshold for conversations about women’s bodies for one night.”
The three of us were quiet for a moment.
“I can’t stop thinking about her,” Holly said somberly. “Has anyone heard from Nolan? Do we know if he’s coming?”
“Actually, he just called me. I’m not sure what he’s doing. He didn’t say.”
“This is absolutely ridiculous.” Holly shook her head in disappointment.
“Well, you know how I feel,” Lex said acerbically. “He’s a dipshit, if you ask me.”
I glanced at my phone, hoping Nolan would call back or text after hanging up earlier. Come on, man! I thought. Show ’em you’re just a good guy going through a hard time and that they should cut you some slack. You’re not making this easy for me!
“I hear you loud and clear, Lex, but I think for Becca’s sake, we need to hold back on any negativity. It’s not going to help her,” Holly said. “We need a plan. Show her we’ve got her back. Focus on the positive and try to make this weekend as much fun and distracting as possible. Whatever it takes, we’re here for her, even if her choice, or the decision-making process, or Nolan, or any part of this makes us angry or uncomfo
rtable. We’ve got to set aside our personal stuff to minimize her stress and keep her afloat.”
“Yeah, I agree,” Lex jumped in. “We’ve got to keep her busy and get her mind off this. But I can’t promise I’ll be able to keep my trap shut when it comes to Nolan.”
I checked my phone again. Nothing. Dammit, I thought.
“Look, guys,” I said, “I think our mission is clear. For whatever it’s worth, we’ve got experience. We’ve rallied before, and we can do it again.”
“Nolan wasn’t there the first time, and I guess we don’t need him now, either,” Lex added.
Holly nodded in agreement and rubbed her abdomen. “Okay, time to pee. Who’s gonna help me up?”
Lex and I jumped to our feet and carefully eased her off the truck. As soon as Holly was steady on the ground, she palmed the bottom of her protruding belly as if she were lifting a basketball off her bladder and began to toddle across the pebbles. “Good night, guys! Love you both!” she chirped on her way into the house.
“Love you, too,” we called back and watched through the screened window of the great room as she made her way down the hallway.
Lex and I smiled awkwardly at each other. A breeze rustled through the colossal trees surrounding us, and a chorus of chirping crickets filled the property, as if Sal had blasted a recording of insects through his outdoor speaker system.
“I had a really nice day with you, Seth,” Lex said thoughtfully. “I had forgotten how much I’ve always enjoyed your company.”
My company? I thought. I had never known she distinguished my company from that of anyone else in the group.
“Me too,” I said. I was glad it was dark outside, and that she couldn’t see me blush. Had she been any one of the countless girls I had dated over the last decade, I would have pulled her close and done whatever it took to get her into bed. Instead, I stuck my hands in my pockets and kicked a few pebbles, feeling like an insecure seventh grader standing beside his first crush.
“Well, it’s getting late,” she said. “I should probably call my kids and wish them good night. It’s an hour earlier in Chicago.”
The Cast Page 16
