by Nikki Harmon
I whisper into her tiny ear, “Lola Mae, you are a lucky little girl to have two such great mommies. May you always be so blessed. May you always be happy. May you always have wise guidance. May you always feel as loved as you are this moment.” I give her back to Leslie and say, “You’re very welcome.” I walk out and feel the tears well up in my eyes. I feel jealous of that little girl, jealous of their family. But mostly I just feel a like a fool.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
Sunday is Halloween. I decide to spend it at my parent’s house giving out candy. I bring over some merlot and we eat an early dinner of chili and corn bread, and then wait for the trick or treaters. For fun, my sister and I decide to dress up like vampires. We sit on the porch swing, wrapped in capes, surrounded by tea lights with our goblets of red wine. The bucket of candy is at our feet. She asks me about Noema. I hesitate, then decide to tell her the whole story.
“Wow!” she says when I’m done.
“Yeah, wow,” I repeat. “Can you believe what a pathological liar she turned out to be? How can you be in a relationship and never mention that you are also in a relationship with someone else? Broken up or not. Asshole!”
“Yeah, I would think that when you told her about Candace she would have at least mentioned that she was going through something similar,” Janine says.
“Candace is a completely different situation. She and I have not been in a relationship since we were 17. Why would I tell her about that?” I snap.
“Whoa. You never told her that you had just spent months looking for your long lost first love?” asks my sister.
“No! It had nothing to do with her…or us. Shut up, Janine,” I snap again and take a big gulp of my wine. I pull out my cell phone and call Noema. She picks up on the second ring.
“Yes?” she says warily.
“You lying bitch!” I whisper angrily into the phone. My sister makes a lunge for the phone and hits the ‘end’ button just as a group of five little kids walk up—a Transformer, a princess, a cowboy, a ninja, and Wonder Woman. I glare at Janine, and she gives me a “What the hell are you doing?” face.
“Trick or treat!!!”
We laugh, but after we give out the candy, I stumble into the house. I don’t want to be happy.
~~~
One day early in November, Leslie calls and asks if she can come over to get a few of Noema’s things. I’ve had them boxed up for weeks just waiting to throw them in her face. But of course she’s smart enough not to come herself.
“Sure,” I sigh, “How about tonight? No time like the present, right?”
It’s a Friday and I’m off work. I decide to go for a run on Kelly Drive. The chill in the air and the brown crispy leaves underfoot match my mood. I think about Noema constantly. I wonder how I could have been so wrong about our relationship. I wonder if she ever thinks about me. I wonder what is wrong with me. I try to run off the feeling of being unlovable, unpartnerable (is that a word?). I run and run and run, but the feeling remains. I drag myself back to my car and drive home.
I decide to make a final sweep of the place to make sure I got rid of everything. After walking through my apartment, making mental notes of all the things that we did there and there and there, I finally go into my sex drawer and decide to throw out all my toys. We used every single one of them and I remember exactly how she made me feel, exactly what her body felt like, exactly how she kissed, exactly how she came.
Leslie knocks softly on the door as if not to disturb a sleeping baby. But I have already stemmed the tide of my tears with a generous vodka and cranberry. And while I am listening to Marvin Gaye, I’m not really feeling nostalgic anymore. I’m feeling a little pissed off about the whole thing. Why does she think she should get her sweatshirts and face cleanser back? Fuck her! I get off the sofa to let in Leslie. She's wearing a button-down red blouse tucked into form-fitting gray slacks. She’s dressed like she's just running an errand on her way home from work. I'm an errand. But she hugs me hello and I step into it and hold on. I'm a little wobbly.
“Hi,” I say casually when we part.
“Hi, Dee. How are you doing?” she asks cautiously.
“Oh fine, you don’t have to walk on eggshells with me.” I wave my hand at her. “I’m just fine. How are Laura and Lola? I know you have pictures, let me see!”
I flop back onto the sofa and take another sip of my cocktail. She sits down next to me and pulls out her phone. She scrolls through picture after picture as I ooh and ahh. While she is telling me about the new pediatrician, a picture of Lola, Noema, and Danny slides into view. I suck in my breath and she hurriedly swipes to the next picture, but I don’t even see it. My eyes blur and all I can see is the picture, their arms around each other’s waists holding the baby in between, three happy, smiling faces.
“I’m so sorry, Dee, I forgot that was in here. I’m so sorry.”
She puts the phone away.
“So they are together?” I ask. She nods and looks down.
“OK, that’s OK, I knew it anyway, it’s fine,” I mumble and take another sip, trying shake off the idea of Noema and Danny.
Leslie takes my hand in consolation. She also starts mumbling about being sorry and how she feels responsible and she wishes she didn’t get involved and all I can think about is the incredible warmth and power in her hand. I’m nodding at her, but my tears are drying up and I can see she’s feeling better, more confident of my forgiveness, she’s apologizing in earnest, looking into my eyes and thanking me for being such a good midwife. She is such a sincere woman. Her eyes are searching mine, looking for absolution, her hand is so strong, her palm so warm. I’m imagining her hand on me, on my back, pulling me closer. I look at her face so close to mine, I see her in minute detail; she is a fine, fine woman. Her voice washes over me. My emotions are numb but my body is beginning to ache for her touch. I slowly turn her hand in mine so that it rests on my thigh. I lean in and kiss her mid-sentence. Before our lips can touch I hear her surprised “Oh!” and she jumps up out of my grasp, breaking me out of my reverie.
Leslie is slowly backing up and repeating, “oh” and “sorry.” I hear myself repeating her “oh” and “sorry” as I get up, but I don’t exactly mean it. She bends down to pick up the box for Noema. I apologize again, gesture towards the glass, the box. She nods and says it’s OK, but she looks disappointed in me.
I shut the door behind her. I pick up my glass, drain the watered down contents and leave it by the kitchen sink. I go to bed, masturbate to the memory of Leslie’s voice, the feel of her strong warm hand, and then I cry myself to sleep.
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
I decide I need to cleanse my life, again. I rearrange my furniture – I need some new feng shui. I buy new sheets and bedding and towels. I actually read through some of the Iyanla Vanzant books. I consider joining a meditation group. But I am lonely.
I throw myself into work, which is pretty easy since I have seven births that month – the most ever for me. But I handle them all pretty well and it never gets old for me. Soledad announces that she’s retiring next summer so we have time to hire a new midwife and get her up to speed. I’m grateful for the postponement; I don’t want to see her go. Meadow has become somewhat of a superstar with her book coming out and business has picked up significantly. But I am lonely.
In a moment of desperation, I call Candace. My heart thumps while the phone rings and I gasp when I hear her voice. But it is only her voicemail message. I’m neither as prepared nor as smooth as I would like to be, but I leave a message anyway.
“Hi, Candace. This is Dee. I got your letter a few months ago and I totally respect your decision. I was just calling to see how you are doing. I don’t know if this is possible, but I would really like to try and be friends again. It was so good talking to you and I just miss that. I miss our friendship, so if you’re willing and able, please give me a call back at this number.”
I hang up and stare at the phone for a full 15 minutes. Nothing. I move on with my da
y. I have a lot of work to do, but I am lonely.
I spend my 32nd birthday at work. My co-workers take me out to TGIFridays. They are sweet to me. The wait staff sings “Happy Birthday” and I blow out the candle on my slice of chocolate cake. I go home with my co-workers’ presents and I have lots of my cards from my family and friends on my mantle. I smile at them. I turn off the lights and walk into my bedroom. I turn on the news to drive away the sounds of me getting ready for bed, alone.
Thanksgiving arrives and I go to my parents with my macaroni and cheese and pumpkin pie. My sister is there with her new boyfriend, Joe, and my aunt is there with her son and his family. Dinner is great; we stuff ourselves, play Taboo afterwards and watch football. I drink beer with my dad. I talk to Viv that night on the phone. She loves California, but she’s lonely too. I keep her from drunk-dialing Morgan. She keeps me from drunk-dialing Noema…again.
~~~
A few days later, Bernie calls me and invites me out to dinner. I gratefully accept.
We meet at a popular restaurant downtown. It is packed for their holiday happy hour. We find a corner table and order drinks. I order a Dark and Stormy.
“So, how’s married life?” I ask.
“Surprisingly, just like our life before except now we are expected to host family gatherings and everyone keeps asking me about babies. What about you? How’s Noema?”
I’d forgotten. I hadn’t really talked to her in the last few months. So I took a big breath and told her the whole story of Noema.
“I’m so sorry, Dee. I really am. You seemed so hopeful about this one, different too. Like you were really ready to settle down,” she says. I nod and sigh.
“There’s more, too. I didn’t want to bother you with my drama while you were getting ready for your wedding…but before I got with Noema, I went looking for Candace….” I end up telling her that whole story over dinner.
“Wow, Dee! Who knew you were such a romantic!” she says. “Well, damn! That is a lot of drama. What the hell? I just saw you in September! I’m so sorry. Sorry about both. Aww honey, that’s a lot of heartbreak. How are you doing?” she asks, searching my eyes looking for signs of a breakdown.
“I’m…well, I was so let down after finding Candace. But then Noema was there and well, the Noema thing, that was great, at least I thought it was great, and then I just felt so betrayed – I was just so angry and sad, and now, now, I just feel drained and confused. I couldn’t make it work with my old love, I couldn’t make it work with my new love. Maybe I’m not supposed to be in love and have a partner like that. Maybe a midwife is all I get to be.”
Bernie looked at me with so much sympathy and love, I felt even worse about everything. God, I was pathetic.
“You will, Dee. Have faith. Maybe they weren’t the right women; maybe it wasn’t the right time. Just get yourself ready for when that right person shows up. Have you gotten rid of all your baggage? Have you let go of all these hurts and heartbreaks? You have to make space for new love.”
“But that’s the thing, Bernie. I thought I did all that. I was open for Noema, I was ready for new love and I thought I’d found it and look what happened. She used me, she lied to me and she threw me away when her real woman showed up,” I say.
“But didn’t you just tell me you had been looking for Candace for months? Are you sure you were completely ready for Noema?”
“But that was different, I was just looking for Candace to see what happened to her and you know, if … I was just nostalgic…. I remembered how we were and I wondered … you know, if it was still there.”
“And was it?”
“Actually, yeah. I think so. The love, the friendship, the attraction was still there, at least for me. But she chose her husband, so whatever, right? So I had to move on, and I did. And then Noema, that bitch, treated me like shit.” With righteous indignation, I sit back hard in my chair and cross my arms.
“We’re friends, right? I have to be able to say this to you. Dee, she treated you the way I’ve seen you treat other women. I hate to say it. You know I love you, but I’ve seen you be callous with other people’s feelings, a little self-serving and inconsiderate,” she says looking intently at me. I look out the window.
“So you think this is karma? You think I deserved all of this?” I ask Bernie.
“No! No, honey, that’s not what I’m saying. I’m saying maybe being on the other side of hurt will help you be a better person,” she says.
“But I’ve been hurt. I’ve been hurt plenty. This thing with Noema really knocked me back. And Candace broke up with me when we were kids, and then she rejected me again. And that hurt, a lot,” I protest.
Bernie looks at me. “I know she broke up with you in high school, but from what you told me, wasn’t that really your doing?”
“Perhaps I shouldn’t have punched that girl,” I say, looking out the window.
“Perhaps you should have trusted Candace,” she retorts. “But that was high school, who knows anything at that age?”
“Yeah, but now we’re grown and she’s married and I’m an idiot,” I say resignedly and finish my drink.
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
Christmas. At the office, we get lots of holiday cards with pictures of our babies in Santa hats and reindeer antlers. Their growth over a scant year or two never ceases to amaze me. We have our annual holiday party at a local restaurant. Spouses are invited but I don’t even have a date. I am actually fine with this. I have gotten used to my own company again and, thankfully, I’m still cool with me. I rock my “Jackson Five Christmas Album,” I buy myself a lovely turquoise necklace to go with my earrings, and I keep cinnamon-scented candles burning in my house. I have my own little tree that I decorate with mini disco balls and dancing lights and I am OK.
On Christmas Eve, I get a frantic call from Meadow. She’s technically on call and one of our patients has gone into labor. But she is stuck in New Jersey at a church service with her family. I reassure her that I will take care of the family and I do. Christmas morning at 5:00 a.m. I help to deliver a chubby little boy to his ecstatic parents. Soon, their whole family comes over to welcome this little guy and again, I am humbled by how beautiful life can be. They name him Christopher. I can’t think of a better way to spend Christmas morning. Meadow comes in around noon to take over and I go straight to my parent’s house.
My parents have always had a live tree and this year is no different. My sister did most of the decorating so it is very colorful and chaotic. She found and put up all the old ornaments we made as children, egg crate angels, bedazzled cardboard snowflakes, and pipe cleaner candy canes. My family waited for me to open gifts, but I’m starving so we eat a lazy brunch first then relax together around the tree. I give my parents tickets to a Broadway show and a Sixers’ game. They give me a robe and slippers and a full-day pass to a spa. They want me to take better care of myself. I give Janine an iPad. She cries and gives me a sweater with a matching scarf. We hug. She whispers in my ear.
“I have another gift for you but I have to give it to you later.”
“OK.” I say. I’m intrigued but exhausted, so I go upstairs to take a nap while they prepare for the rest of the family to arrive.
By 7:00 p.m., the house is packed with family. We have finished and cleaned up dinner. My cousin’s three kids are running around with their new toys, my grandmother is commanding conversation from the easy chair in the living room, and my sister and her boyfriend are cuddling on the couch. It’s a Wonderful Life is playing at my mom’s annual insistence and she and I are watching it, drinking eggnog, and eating cookies. It’s pretty much a perfect day and I am feeling blessed and happy.
After George Bailey finds out that he, indeed, is the richest man in town, tears still shining in our eyes, Janine turns to me and grins. I grin back at her. She disentangles herself from Joe and motions me upstairs. I follow her wondering what she is up to. We get up to my old room; she flicks on the light and plops on the bed. I sit dow
n, ready for whatever talk we are going to have about her boyfriend. Instead, she leans down and pulls a red envelope from under the bed and hands it to me. It’s addressed to me but at my parent’s street address. I recognize the handwriting immediately. It’s from Candace.
“It came a couple of days ago. I didn’t want to give it to you right away because I wasn’t sure what it would say and I didn’t want it to ruin your holiday,” she shrugs, then leans closer.
“But yesterday, I saw Candace’s sister in the grocery store”….
“And?” I reply.
“Just open it!” she squeaks bouncing up and down.
I run my finger under the flap and tear the envelope open. It’s a Christmas card with Rudolph on the front. I open it and below the usual holiday greetings is Candace’s note to me:
Dee,
I hope you are having a wonderful holiday season. I’m in town for a while and I would love to see you. Please give me a call when you get a chance.
Love,
Candace
I turn the card over again and frown at it. I’m imagining her with her family around a Christmas tree. I put the card down on my lap.
“Hmm … well, this was nice of her. So, she’s in town for the holidays. Why are you so excited?”
“Yesterday, I was at the Rite-Aid getting tape when I saw Denise again. She was surprisingly cordial to me, maybe it was the holiday spirit, whatever, but I thought of you, of course, and I asked about Candace and her family. She said that Candace was in town but that her family didn’t come with her. When I said, ‘Oh, that’s too bad, well, I guess she’ll be going back for the New Year or something like that.’ Denise said, ‘I doubt it.’ “Then she asked about you!!! Which she would never do, right? Because she hates you, right?”
I frown. “I guess she hates me, but what are you getting at, Janine?”
