“What are we talking about, ladies?” Claire said, returning from the bathroom.
“How Robin here is going to run away with hot-lips Bobby,” Jackie kidded. “Move in with him, get married, make more baby Roses.”
“Oh my God! I will kill myself if you get married before I do, Robin. I mean, you’re already having babies before Conner and me. Oh my God. You can’t do this to me, girl.”
I calmed Claire down while trying to contain my outburst of laughter. “Girl, we are not going to run off and get married any time soon. Do not worry about that. And more babies? Don’t be ridiculous.”
“I mean, you know I’m not totally serious,” Claire said. “I wouldn’t actually kill myself. Or be all angry or something stupid like that. It would just…you know, be like, what the hell? Conner still won’t get off his ass and propose. I’m going to be forty before he finally works up the nerve. Honestly.”
“Don’t be so dramatic; you know that’s not true,” I told her. “And Bobby and I are not even talking about marriage. Jackie asked if she thought we’d move in together, but that’s not happening, either. Things are staying the way they are. I need stability. Rose needs stability.”
“Well, have you at least done it yet?” Jackie asked.
“‘Done it?’ What are we, in high school?” Lara asked.
“Are you joking? Look at me, Jack. I’m pregnant. I can’t even put on my socks and shoes by myself anymore.”
“You know,” she said, pragmatically. “I read somewhere that you can do it right up until labor.”
“Enough,” I said. “Not having this conversation. Not here, not now, not—”
“Not until you do do it, and then you’ll spill the details?” She gave me a toothy, bleached white smile, nodding her blonde head.
“Yeah, not until then,” I said, ending the discussion. The girls kept on chatting before the music recommenced, while I though about how much fun and how thrilling it would be when the day came for Jackie to be the expectant mother.
God save us all.
***
“Sent!” I said exuberantly, as I listened to the whooshing sound of the email making its virtual way to the editing department. I’d finished work on my recent book cover, and already had my initial mock-ups for the next one sent off, too. The long list of to-dos before I shortly took my maternity leave was shrinking.
“What are you so happy about?” Janet asked rudely.
As much as I was getting used to Janet’s unnecessary and highly rude comments and quips about anything and everything under the sun, they weren’t any less annoying. Sometimes I felt like bolting out of my seat and shouting, “Shut the hell up!” Other times I wanted to pull at her hair. Most of the time I wanted to wheel her on her swivel chair into the hallway and lock her out of the office. Hang a sign that read: No Bitches Allowed! My job security, and the fear of what would happen if I actually stood up to her, kept me from doing anything more severe than ignoring her.
“Hello?” Janet repeated, sounding just like that wretchedly dressed, redheaded chick from the film Clueless. Spoiled, snooty, and her words leaving a bad taste in your mind when you mentally repeated them. “Going to answer me? Or do you only talk to the people you sleep with around here?”
Oh she was crossing the line. That smarmy—
“Robin!” She was nearly shouting now.
“What?” I answered loudly. “What, Janet? I sent an email. That’s all. No big deal.”
“Well stop talking to yourself over there. It’s distracting. Highly distracting. And you sound like a crazy person.”
Speak for yourself. If you weren’t such a busybody, then you wouldn’t waste your time, or mine, asking about the slightest of pin drop noises around here.
I gruffly shoved away from my desk. Bobby and I weren’t going to take lunch for another thirty minutes, but I needed fresh air. And a breath without Janet commenting I was breathing too loudly or something absurd.
“High strung, are we?” Bobby asked in between bites of his sack lunch.
“I don’t want to talk about her,” I said, not wanting to belabor the reason behind my flustered state.
“The bitch on wheels.” He nodded, knowingly.
“Don’t want to talk about her. Let’s talk about happy things.”
“All right,” he said. “Let’s talk about holiday plans. Anything special for Thanksgiving planned?”
“Not really. Lara doesn’t usually go home for Thanksgiving. And I don’t want to go anywhere being so near to my due date and all. You?”
“My family’s spread out all over the country. Thought I’d stay home this year. Maybe spend it with you?” He raised his eyebrows, hopeful.
That’d make for a fun holiday. Easy-going, just the three of us—Lara, Bobby, and me—maybe we’d make a turkey this year. Neither Lara nor I were very traditional when it came to Thanksgiving. We’d spent it together last year, in fact, and I think the menu contained sushi and Saki.
“I warn you,” I told him, “it’ll be very low-key. Probably no big traditional feast. I’m doing my Thanksgiving and Christmas this year at home, with Lara. I have literally no idea what to expect from little Rose.” I circularly rubbed my stomach. “I don’t know for sure when she’ll actually come. Early? Late? On time? It’s getting closer and I’m getting kind of scared.”
Bobby pulled me near, leading us for a walk through the park once we finished our food. He told me the clichéd and corny line that the only thing I had to fear was fear itself. That I’d be brave when it came time to give birth. I was prepared, after all. I’d been eating right, taking my vitamins, reading my how-to and what-to-expect books. I’d even managed four classes of Lamaze, which included a very hands-on tutorial on breastfeeding. Can you say, “awkward”? Poor Lara—the things that girl did for me. It’s not every day your best friend will feel you up, cop a boob, and read the breast pump tutorial with you on an early Saturday morning.
“Would it be all right if I came to the hospital? When Rose is born?” Bobby’s question sprang from nowhere. As with the idea of moving in with him some day, I’d never put any thought into Bobby being at the hospital when Rose was born. Those topics didn’t really register under the heading Moving Slow.
I had already invited Kaitlyn, and all the girls (including Emily) to the hospital, and everyone said they wouldn’t dream of missing Rose’s birth. Lara would be the only one in the actual delivery room, though; everyone else would sit in the waiting room for God knew how long. I didn’t think about that—the long and painful birth I’d have to endure—either. But Bobby? At the hospital? Why not?
“Sure,” I said. “I don’t know where my head’s been. Should have asked you. Yes, yes, of course. All my friends will be there waiting…so if you’re okay with sitting with a bunch of hyped-up, baby-crazy girls. They’re more excited about all this than I am, I feel.” I let out a thoughtless chortle. “But it’s the fear of the unknown, and the pain, that I think has me worried.”
“You’ll do fine. And I’ll be waiting there for you and baby Rose for as long as it takes.”
“Hopefully not too long.”
He wrapped me in a warm embrace, a comfort from the chilling breeze of the crisp November day, and he kissed me. He pulled back a short distance, told me he loved me, then dipped down for another passionate, deep kiss.
“You’ll do a marvelous job, Robin. And you’ll have your best friends, and your boyfriend who loves you madly, right there for you. You won’t be alone. Not a thing to be scared about.”
I gripped my fingers around his coat lapels and pulled myself up to his lips, stealing one more fiery kiss before we had to get back to work.
Chapter Twenty-One
That weekend the thing that my baby books referred to as nesting kicked in, and that meant the baby was on its way. Tonight? Tomorrow? In a week or two? Who knew? I was still four weeks away from my due date, but what if Rose decided she was ready to come now? In a state of panic, I h
ad called Dr. Jane Buschardi’s office, thinking I was going to go into early labor. The nurse told me that nesting did not mean broken water was right around the corner. I needed to take it easy, keep on nesting—getting everything situated just right for Baby—but not panic. Unless I was having contractions or my water actually broke, there was no cause for alarm.
I’d given Bobby quite a scare that Friday night while I told him how I’d read all about nesting and all about false labor scares. And how I was worried I’d be one among the many women who went into early labor. Before I could reassure Bobby that the doctor’s office told me I didn’t have anything to worry about, he called to the waiter to bring our check and instantly started helping me out of my seat. “I’m prepared!” he’d said. “Completely prepared! I know the quickest route to the hospital. I’ve Googled it.”
You can imagine the surprise on his face when all I could do was sit there in the middle of the restaurant and laugh while he urged me to get a move on to the hospital. At least I knew I was in good hands if I found myself going into labor with only Bobby around. He had, after all, searched for the quickest route to the hospital.
I knew I was in good hands, too, if it was just Lara and me at home when my water broke. I’d been choking on and hacking up a nut the other day when Lara practically had the car running and ready to go before she realized I was only acting too stupid to chew and swallow properly. Not even close to going into labor.
Jackie let Andrew know that she was on call with me and would dash off to the hospital whenever she got the go ahead.
Sophie and Claire already had Plans A, B, C, and D sketched out for when I’d go into labor, with Conner an integral part in Plans B and C…or D. I wasn’t sure; I just knew they were locked, loaded, and ready for action when the time came. They even had a large drawing board set up in Claire’s dining room mapping out the most convenient routes to the hospital depending on the current location and time of day. No messing around.
Emily must have been able to find herself an internet connection with more ease as of late, since we were messaging back and forth one to two times a week. She repeatedly said she’d be home in time for the birth. That particular plan I was unsettled about. With all my nesting going on, and plenty of thoughts of going into an early labor buzzing about, I was beginning to have my doubts that world-traveling-Emily would be able to make it in time.
We weren’t sure when Rose would make her grand appearance, obviously, so each of us had to be ready to go from zero to sixty at all times. I was all about going one hundred percent natural with her birth, so that meant no planned Cesarean (unless medically necessary), no scheduled birthday, not even any pain relief treatments. Nope, I was going to try this rite of passage as nature intended it. And my Lamaze instructor Sky insisted that a natural birth was “the most holy and fulfilling of methods.” Time would only tell.
We’ll see what happens when I’m writhing in agony. One can only imagine…
The plus with nesting meant that the baby’s room was finally complete, and the house was as baby-ready and baby-proof as it could be—electrical outlets stopped up, special locks on all of the lower cabinets and cupboards, and door stoppers that’d keep Rose from smashing her tiny fingers when she started crawling. Now all we needed was show time!
“The baby’s room is done, at last,” I said, cranking the musical mobile Bobby finished attaching to the crib.
“Look at this!” I said to Lara, who popped her head into my room. “Is this not the most precious gift ever?”
Lara squealed with delight when she saw the singing crib mobile.
“It’s Bobby’s gift for Rose. Custom made.”
“This baby online shop lets you custom design these things,” Bobby had said when he gave it to me, looking the slightest bit proud of his smart purchase. “The little hanging toy things. The music. Pretty neat idea to be able to customize it all.”
The mobile was playing the original 1950s Bobby Day version of “Rockin’ Robin,” and five small, soft mobile charms hung suspended above the crib: a bird, a rose, a book, a painting palette, and a heart.
“That is the most adorable mobile I’ve ever seen. And ‘Rockin’ Robin.’ For Robin?”
Bobby nodded. “Probably going to keep Rose up more than lull her to sleep, but I couldn’t resist.” He put his arm around my waist.
“And each little charm is something special,” I pointed out. “Personal.”
“Yeah, you never know,” he said. “Rose may turn out to be a great artist, or cover designer or something, just like her mom.”
I looked up at Bobby, into his trusting eyes, at his beautiful face, his one-day-plus five o’clock shadow balancing that look of suave and gruff positively perfectly. I gave him a light kiss and hugged him close.
How am I so lucky? And to put so much thought into a gift for a baby that he’s never even met. For a baby that’s not even his.
***
“Do you have any idea what you want to do for your birthday?” I asked Lara over dinner. “The big two-nine is tomorrow. You haven’t told us what you want to do at all.”
Lara shrugged nonchalantly, soaking up a piece of bread in olive oil. “I don’t really care about it this year.”
“It’s your last year in your twenties! Some people think that’s cause for celebration.”
“Or mourning.” She bit off a chunky bite of sopping bread.
“Talk about grim, sheesh. Maybe we want to do something for you.”
The girls and I’d talked about doing something for Lara, in spite of her not so much as giving us a hint at what she wanted to do, or wanted as a gift. We ran the usual ideas by her: night out somewhere, dinner at her favorite restaurant, a movie, a ballet or a show, a spa date, gift card somewhere—all to no avail.
“It falls on a Tuesday this year; not ideal for going out and…I don’t really feel like doing anything. I’ll have more birthdays. We can do something fun next year.”
I detected a slight indication of Lara’s feeling down and out in the love department. Sometimes she’d get so focused on her being single, then she’d become transfixed on the ludicrous notion that she’d be single forever, then she’d indubitably spiral into a silent pit of somberness that I swore was a mild case of depression. Even Claire, who worked in the medical field and saw a fair share of disabled and elderly patients who were in need of medical attention for depression, thought that sometimes Lara might benefit from a little dose of pick-me-up via Zoloft. Whenever we brought this up, Lara would dismiss it as her simply being a normal, average person who got sad now and then—nothing she couldn’t handle. Perhaps she was right, but I hated seeing her like this. And for the past few months, particularly once Bobby and I became more serious, I thought her brief bouts of depression were getting worse and more frequent.
“Are you getting down on yourself about your love life, Lara?” I didn’t want to pry or upset her further. I was concerned.
“Lack thereof, you mean.” She pushed her plate away, half its contents still uneaten. “I guess I didn’t see myself turning the corner towards thirty and still being single. Don’t get me wrong, I’m totally happy for you, Robin, even if I’m a little envious of what you have with Bobby. Please don’t take it the wrong way. I just didn’t think I’d be twenty-nine and single.”
“It’ll happen, Lara. Eventually, it’ll happen.” I reached out and stroked back her loose hair. “Don’t worry, baby doll.”
She immediately broke down, releasing what was probably a long-withheld dam of tears.
“I don’t want to be that freaky cat lady who’s alone, Robin. Thirty. Forty. Fucking fifty and alone!” She slammed her elbows down onto the table with such force the plates rattled and inched forward. “Alone, Robin! Me and Beebee. A freaky cat lady, shuffling about in her bathrobe and hair curlers, eating cheese balls and watching daytime dramas.” She stuffed her face into her hands and continued her rant. “Living vicariously through those romances. Alone. Old a
nd alone. And all dried up at fifty.”
“Lara,” I murmured, wrapping her in a hug. “Don’t cry, honey. Shhh. Don’t you worry. You know, at least you’ve got your sense of humor about you.”
“Don’t make jokes!” she cried out in half-laugh, half-tears. “I’m being serious.”
“Oh come now. Cheese balls, daytime soaps, and hair curlers? Doesn’t sound like my Lara. Have you forgotten who you are?” I rubbed her back. “You’re Lara the camp counselor. The girl who was there for three goofballs who didn’t know their Sigma Chis from their libraries. Who didn’t know the best bakery near campus when they needed a study boost.” I pulled her chin towards me, looking her in her tearful, glassy blue eyes. “The girl who’s always been the leader of the pack. Who’s been an inspiration to stay in school, go after our dreams, get kickass careers…be strong women!” I drew closer to her and said in earnest, “The woman who helped keep the glue between two best friends, who went to hell and back. You’re an amazing and beautiful woman, Lara. I couldn’t live without you. You stood by, full of hope and encouragement, making me see and making Sophie see that no jackass or stupid one-night stand is worth coming between us and tearing apart our friendship. You’re our glue, Lara, and any man who can’t see that—who can’t see that you’re a shining star with so much to offer, that he’d be lucky to have—is not worth it.”
She cried more painful tears, pulling me close tightly. “Oh, Robin,” she sobbed, her voice muffled against me. “It hurts. It hurts so much.”
When Girlfriends Step Up Page 24
