“Chad can be so obnoxious sometimes,” Claire said.
I stole a quick peek at Sophie to see how she reacted to the mention of Chad. Sophie actually had a one-time-only fling with him several years ago, and swore to us that it was the most rebellious and stupid thing she’d ever done. Sometimes we kidded her about it when Chad was around or brought up in the conversation. Usually we let it pass, though, since she always seemed uncomfortable or weary about it. At the moment she looked uncomfortable.
“We all know Chad can be a little somethin’-somethin’ sometimes,” Jackie cooed, nudging Sophie in the ribs playfully.
“Oh, shut up.” Sophie nudged her back, hard. “Forget about it already.”
“You don’t still feel, like, something, for him, do you?” Lara asked.
Sophie was quick to deny any feelings, or ever having had any feelings from the onset.
“Then what’s the big deal?” Jackie asked. “Sometimes we get it on and then it’s over. Forget about it. No big deal. It’s not like you guys should be all weirded out with each other. You’re still friends, right? Friends who shag. Not a bad thing.”
“Acquaintances, I guess,” Sophie said. “And we’re not friends who shag. It was one time.” Sophie stuffed a piece of cake into her mouth. “But he’s Conner’s friend and isn’t terribly awful to hang around so, whatever. I tolerate.”
“Yeah,” Claire added. “He’s not that bad, I guess. Not bad at all, really—just this influence of anti-commitment or something. I don’t like it and it grates on my nerves.”
“Well, I wouldn’t worry about it, Claire,” Jackie said. “Conner’s his own man, and when he’s ready he’ll propose and then you two can get married, have a million babies, and live happily ever after.”
Claire smiled. “Thanks, Jack. I know it’ll happen. At some point. Until then, whatevs. Things between Conner and me are still great, don’t get me wrong.”
“Sex still good?”
“Jack, what is it with you and sex all the time?” Lara asked, laughing.
“What? They say that those who tend to talk about it all time are the ones who aren’t necessarily getting it all that much. And…I’m not exactly getting any lately, so there.”
“That’s no excuse. You talk about it all the time even when you are getting it,” Sophie said.
Jackie laughed. “I know, right? God, I just love sex. Could you imagine life without it? Man, there’d be no point in living.”
“Suicidal are you, now that you’re going through a dry spell?” I kidded. Jackie just nodded in agreement, her plastic fork sticking out of her mouth as she leaned forward to get another sliver of cake.
“Bummed Emily can’t make it to the shower,” Sophie said. “Anyone heard from that girl lately?”
“Actually, Lara and I emailed her last night,” I said. “We even sent scanned copies of the baby pictures. She’s sure to respond to that one soon!”
“And hopefully she’ll be back in time for the baby’s birth,” Jackie said. “When is she supposed to come home?”
“Last I heard it was some time in September.”
“Then that means maybe she could make it to the shower?”
How wonderful would it be for all the girls to be back together again, under one roof? For one big celebration!
“Well, it’s getting late, so I guess we should be heading out,” Sophie said, looking at Claire. “Claire’s making me go for a jog with her and Schnickerdoodle tomorrow bright and early. That damn dog needs his exercise before the sun rises, apparently.”
Claire defended her little mutt of a dog as the girls prepared to head out, with Jackie not far behind.
“You heading out, too, Robin?” Sophie asked.
“No, I’m staying here tonight. Have been for a while, actually.”
“Now there’s an idea!” Claire said in her chipper voice. “Why don’t you two move in together? It totally makes sense.”
Lara and I looked at each other, perplexed expressions on our faces.
“I have been staying here a lot lately,” I said after a pause. “Lara’s been nice to let me stay a few nights but I—”
“That is a good idea, actually!” Lara said. Her response took me by surprise. “How come we didn’t think of that before? Like the moment we found out you were pregnant?”
In what seemed like a matter of a couple of minutes, my living situation was all figured out. Lara and I agreed that it was a solid idea that I move in with her. There was no point in me living in a cramped apartment with a baby on the way when my best friend had a spare bedroom and bathroom, and was willing and eager to live with me. To help me out. Like the good old college days!
“It’s probably best if I move before it gets too hot. I don’t want to be well into my second trimester and moving all my stuff.”
“How about next week?” Lara said excitedly. “And I’m sure Conner, even Chad, can come help with your stuff. And all of us girls can band together. Let’s do this! Next weekend?”
“Next weekend it is!”
Chapter Seven
I pushed my stomach out as far as I could manage. When was I going to start showing? I thought I could see the slightest of bumps developing; sometimes I wasn’t sure if that was the regular tummy tire that I never seemed to shed no matter how many miles I jogged. (Not that I’d been jogging that much since I found out I was pregnant.)
My baby book said that it was perfectly fine for me to keep up my routine jogs. I ran track throughout college, and didn’t completely lose the habit once those years were over. But to say I became lax in my jogging routine, especially since becoming pregnant, would be a gross understatement, and I was somewhat fearful that starting up routinely again would harm the baby.
“Ugh,” I groaned, pinching my sides. “Just regular fat and no baby bump.”
Well, that’s not so terrible. I’m not really ready to show and have to tell everyone at work. To tell my mom. Or my sister.
I grumbled some more, pushing my glasses further up the bridge of my nose, then taking them off, trying to decide which look better suited me. I tied my long hair up into a messy bun, and when that look didn’t suit, I let it fall back down to the middle of my back. It hung there, listlessly, and I pinched at my sides again.
“A real looker here, Robin.” I put my glasses back on and stuck out my bottom lip.
No pregnant charm today.
I checked the time on my cell phone to make sure I was still ahead of schedule. I wanted to get to work a good hour early, since I had some great ideas brewing for another mystery novel cover that I was recently assigned. The more time I had in the office without glory-hog Janet the better. I still had a few more minutes before I wanted to head out, so I kept looking at my bare belly in the mirror. I kept pinching my sides, running my hand over where I imagined a bump was forming, and thinking about when I’d call my mom and sister.
Emailing my dad was a cinch. I had actually already written him a quick and dull email letting him know (if he cared) that he’d soon be a grandpa, but the letter was still sitting in my draft folder. I may not have been particularly close to either of my parents, but they needed to know, and such news was owed to my mom first. She may have been detached and in her own world, but she wasn’t the one who tore our family apart by leaving us for another partner.
How would I approach her? I thought about the hows, the whens, and all of the imaginable what ifs, much like I’d done with Brandon. There wouldn’t be any easy way about it as every girl, no matter how distant a relationship she may have with her mother, still wants to feel her mother’s approval, her mother’s support, and her mother’s pride. Her mother’s love. I didn’t expect to wow my mom in any positive light with the news, but I hoped that over time, once she learned that her little girl was having a baby of her own, she would be proud of my choices to raise my child, and proud to have a daughter who wasn’t too afraid to go at it solo.
I got close to picking up the phone the pr
evious night to call my mom, but eventually I decided against it. The watercolors were much more appealing, so aside went mom, and on came a field of purple- and peach-colored tulips. Somehow, at one angle the tulips looked more like bubble gum balls, and at another like splotchy blobs of paint atop thin green sticks. So I was a little out of my watercolor practice. I was looking forward to setting up a small workspace in Lara’s apartment’s alcove, right near her desk, where I could dabble with my watercolors. The lighting was fantastic, and since Lara didn’t spend great deals of time working at her desk, as most of her overtime hours for work were spent at the office, she said the space was practically mine. And the treadmill that was adjacent to the spot where I’d plant my easel would be handy too. Maybe, once I got settled into Lara’s place—my new home—this weekend, I might gather the nerve to try a small jog. Just a small one to make sure baby approves. I needed to do something about my belly tire, anyhow.
I checked my phone’s clock once more and realized my daydreaming had zapped up a few more minutes than I’d anticipated. “Off to work, off to work,” I chanted, making a mad dash out of my apartment.
***
My baby’s first photos were always in my purse, and sometimes at work I’d sneak a look at them, a small and heartwarming reminder that something amazing was happening in my life. Every time I looked at those photos I couldn’t care less about a raise or a promotion at work. Brandon didn’t matter. My not wanting (and needing) to tell my family seemed like a minor detail. Everything superfluous in life melted away and felt, well, superfluous. Nothing else mattered. Then, when my mind floated back to thoughts of a raise or a promotion, the images of my little bean sprout of a growing baby staring up at me, I figured that some things still mattered, obviously. So I’d tuck the photos discretely back into my purse and get back to work.
That morning, in the middle of my private cooing session over my photos, Janet charged into the office a good ten minutes late.
Surprise, surprise. Look who’s not perfect after all.
I bid her good morning, immediately stashing my photos.
“Please. You’re probably delighted I’m late,” Janet said, more grumpy than usual. She practically threw her briefcase onto her desk, then slammed herself into her seat without taking off her blazer.
“That’s not true.” My voice was almost inaudible over her heavy huffing and puffing from what I’m sure was a sprint from the parking lot to her desk.
“Whatever. You’d think my own sister would understand how important my career is and how I am never late to the office.” She turned towards me. I thought I detected a small bead of sweat on her brow, which was all squished up in anger. “I am never late, isn’t that right?”
I nodded my head, too afraid to contradict, though I honestly couldn’t think of a single time in all of Janet’s existence at Forster & Banks when she was even a minute late.
“Sometimes my sister can be such a bitch.”
“You all right?”
“No, I’m not all right, Robin! My careless sister decided to call me before work to tell me the news that, ohmigod, she’s pregnant.”
The small hairs on the nape of my neck started to prick up. This is an odd coincidence…
“Before work, Robin. Can you believe that? So bitchy and inconsiderate.”
It took me a few seconds to try to see the situation from Janet’s point of view, but I couldn’t. I was a new mother and I could see the merit in breaking such news to your loved ones as soon as you could. Who cared if Janet was on her way to work?
“I don’t think there’s anything wrong with that, Janet.”
“Of course you wouldn’t. You make doctor’s appointments before work rather than on Saturdays or after hours, or during lunch break, like a serious career woman would do.” She opened and slammed various desk drawers. “What, are you going to waste more of my morning, too, by telling me you’re knocked up?”
How does she know?
I felt my face go pale and all I could do was stare at her, speechless.
“What?” she asked, nearly shouting. “I’m just joking. God, don’t take me so seriously.”
Phew. Close one.
“Anyway, enough of my morning has been taken up by crazy baby talk. Time to get to work. Like a real modern woman. I’m going to be taking charge on those edits for the mock-up we did together.”
Was that a question or a statement? Knowing Janet…
“All right?” she demanded.
I didn’t want to deal with Hurricane Janet a second longer, so I quietly told her that was fine by me, even though it wasn’t. I’d worked just as hard, if not harder, on those mock-ups. Why was she the one who had all the say on the edits? And why were there edits that needed to be made in the first place? I thought we did a smash-up job and nailed every point our boss wanted us to hit.
Forget about it. Let Janet deal with it.
When Janet left for the editing department I stole another look at my sweet angel’s photos. “You’re not going to be a punk brat, are you, honey? No you’re not. You’re going to be so loved and you’ll have lots of friends and you’ll be sweet…” I looked over at Janet’s now empty desk and snarled. “Not like some people your mom must unfortunately tolerate.”
***
I was exhausted after the past few days of work. Janet’s bitch mode was up a good seven notches. Bobby hadn’t been making any gestures lately that I could at least misconstrue as flirty to give me something fun to dream about and blow out of proportion. Sophie was still pestering me about figuring out the Brandon thing, though I wanted to put his abortion advice and our phone call out of my mind. On top of it all, I was overwhelmed with moving everything I owned from my apartment and over into Lara’s in a couple of days. Boxes littered every room of my apartment. Half the time I couldn’t find the things I had already packed, and the things I thought I had packed were actually misplaced. Oh, and did I mention I was pregnant and had started having cravings for dried blueberries and kettle popcorn? A very tasty combination, I might add.
Just when I thought I’d found some equanimity with nothing but a cool glass of lemonade and a blank piece of paper awaiting its first drop of paint, Sophie called. My first guess (and I’d only need one) was that she’d want to talk about how I had to talk to Brandon. Emergency. Code Blue.
Sure enough, nearly the first thing out of Sophie’s mouth was, “We’re figuring the Brandon thing out tonight.”
“Sophie, I don’t want to.”
“We’re beyond what you want and don’t want to do, Robin. It’s about doing what needs to be done. Brandon’s going to give you what you want, or else.”
“He is giving me what I want.” I took a long pull on my iced drink, then came the quick brain freeze.
“You’re sounding absurd. This isn’t what you want. You want him to do what’s right. He owes you.”
I shook away the brief albeit painful freeze. “Sophie, this is what I want. I want him to stay out of my life if he’s going to view his baby as something that needs to be ‘gotten rid of.’ And he doesn’t seem to have any problems staying out.”
She groaned. “Forget it. I’m coming over there right now and you’re coming with me.”
“What?” I nearly choked on my next sip. “Where are we going?”
“We’re going to see Brandon. We’re settling this once and for all.” Before I could object, or so much as whimper a response or a simple sound, Sophie was off the line, and on her way over.
With not a minute to spare Sophie arrived and demanded we drive to Brandon’s immediately. I angrily grabbed my new Vera Bradley handbag from the dining table and followed Sophie out to her awaiting Prius. She hadn’t even turned off the engine; her parking job wasn’t much to speak of, either.
“Sophie, this is ridiculous!”
“Not another word. Get in the car,” she demanded. Clad in yoga gear, she jogged to her car door and leapt over the parking block like a determined gazelle. “I’
m sick of what he’s doing to you. We’re going to his place right now and we’re finishing this. Once and for all!”
There was no stopping her. I certainly couldn’t. It would have been interesting to see Jackie or Lara in this situation. They’d protest once, maybe twice, and put Sophie in her place. I wasn’t going to do that; it was much too frightening and forward a move. No, no. Besides, I didn’t want to make Sophie feel like I didn’t appreciate her help. She was, after all, only doing what she felt was best, and I was grateful for that. Her approach of dragging me out of the house and forcing me to stand Brandon down, face-to-face, wasn’t exactly the method I preferred, but it was Sophie’s way or the highway once we crossed Lake Union and were entering the high end part of the Queen Anne district. Bill Gates and other billionaires lived in the area and had pretentious mansions overlooking the rest of Seattle society. I suddenly felt insignificantly small…very out of place. I gently tried to protest Sophie’s actions, but there was no turning back as we descended down the sloping hills into Lower Queen Anne, some short blocks from Brandon’s modest brownstone apartment.
“Sophie, I can’t do this,” I cried, gripping her right arm. “Please, let’s go back home. I don’t want to do this.”
“Too late,” she said. “You could have just not come.”
“Yeah, right. Like that was an option. You barreled into my place demanding we go, or else. Like I had a choice.”
We were only a street or two away and my stomach was in knots. I wanted to retch. What would happen? Would there be yelling? Punches? Cursing? Slammed doors? How about unanswered doors? The precariousness was too much to handle.
“I’m not getting out of the car,” I told her. “I don’t want to see him.” She tried to persuade me to join her while she planned to have it out with him, face-on, but I stood firm.
Then we arrived. There it was. The familiar apartment. The front room light was on. The street was silent save for the crickets’ chirping. There wasn’t a single pedestrian or neighbor in sight.
When Girlfriends Step Up Page 9
