“From there I attended a workshop for surrogate mothers, which I thought would be helpful. But instead of hearing all kinds of warm and fuzzy stories about families living happily ever after thanks to their hero surrogates, all they talked about were the horror stories. Girls who took the money and ran. Parents who refused to take babies with birth defects. Lawyers who botched the adoption proceedings. Fertility clinics that botched the inseminations. All I can say is Lauren is damn lucky I didn’t register for this class before I got pregnant.
“Then after the workshop, I drove into the city to pick up a file at the Informer that was left there for me, coincidentally, by my good friend, Warner Lamm. The file contains information on a rare planetary occurrence, something called a void-of-course moon, which may have been in a rare conjunction with Venus retrograde on the weekend of May 25, 1988.”
“Whoa,” Matty laughed. “I didn’t understand a word of that.”
“Me either.”
“Well, what does it mean? Is it good or bad?”
“I’ll let you know as soon as I read the file. Anyway, from the city I drove to your house, and just as I was crossing this very bridge, Lauren called to say not only had her husband left her, but the baby I’m carrying for them is probably not one, but two.
“Then a few minutes after that, I see this familiar face drive by in a Range Rover, and the rest you know.”
“That’s not a day, it’s a miniseries.” Matty turned to her. “I can’t believe how well you’re holding up under all this pressure.”
Mrs. McCreigh piped up from the backseat. “Well, if you ask me, the thing I can’t believe is that Roz and your father are still together.”
“Nobody asked you,” Matty snapped.
“It’s okay.” Shelby laughed. “I didn’t give it more than a year myself, but actually they’re good together. The thing is, how did you know they got married? You had already moved.”
“Are you kidding? I stayed in touch with Bobbie Bernstein and didn’t miss a thing. I knew the Gelfmans’ split up, that Jack Stein died and left everything to his secretary, Lester Greenberg lost his shirt in the market…”
“We get the picture.” he groaned.
“Anyway,” Mrs. McCreigh continued, “after Roz moved in with you, it didn’t take a genius to figure out her game plan. I had my money on her the whole time.”
“Enough!” Matty glared at her through the rearview mirror. “I’d really appreciate it if you kept your opinions to yourself.”
“Why should I?” She laughed. “People like to know the truth. Right, Shelby?”
“Absolutely.” She looked over at Matty, who was rolling his eyes. But to Shelby the familiar banter was magical and healing. How reassuring it was to feel the same intense connection to these people, in spite of the unfortunate, thirty-year gulf that had separated them.
“Go back to the part about you and these babies.” Matty looked straight ahead. “They’re biologically yours, but you’re giving them back to Lauren?”
“The minute they’re born.”
“Won’t that be hard?” he asked. “It’s a pretty emotional time.”
“Maybe. But the way I feel at the moment, I’ll probably get off the delivery table and do a little dance in the end zone.”
“That’s what I would do if a certain couple split up,” Mrs. McCreigh mumbled.
Shelby tried hard not to snicker.
“Mother, what is wrong with you?”
“What? Your marriage is your business, dear. I stopped trying to figure it out years ago.”
“Why do I even bother?” Matty gripped the steering wheel.
“So Shelby. Let’s hear more about you, darling. Are you married?”
“Oh my God, Mother. I’m pulling over.”
“I’m okay,” Shelby whispered. “Relax…No, I’m still single.”
“Seeing anyone seriously?”
“Not anymore.”
“You’re killing me, you know that? Please stop interrogating her.”
“Oh please,” Mrs. McCreigh waved. “You know you’re dying to know, too. So where do you live, dear? I’ll bet you have a great apartment in the city.”
“As a matter of fact I do, only it’s not in New York. Until the accident, I was living in Chicago, working for the Tribune as a columnist.”
“That sounds marvelous. I always knew you’d be a big success. So do you plan to move back after you have the babies?”
“I can’t let you do this.” Matty turned around. “This is none of our business.”
Shelby laughed. “You would have made a hell of a reporter, Mrs. Lieber…McCreigh. Sorry. It’s really hard calling you by a different name.”
“That’s nothing! Try answering to a different name,” she replied. “Tell you what. You’re old enough to vote. Call me Carol.”
“Okay. Carol. Anyway, the answer to your question is I have no idea what I’ll do when this is over. After everything that’s happened to me, I’ve come to the conclusion that it’s pointless to worry about the future because what’s supposed to happen, will, whether you want it to or not. It’s like my grandmother used to say at funerals. ‘Man makes plans and God laughs.’”
“I say that all the time, too.” Matty nodded.
“Well it’s true,” Shelby said. “I mean I always imagined you’d be living in Vermont or Maine, with a sweet little wife, a bunch of kids and dogs, and a Ph.D. in comparative literature.”
“And I always imagined you’d be living on Park Avenue with a Wall Street guy, beautiful children, a nanny, and a house in the Hamptons.”
Carol coughed. “And I always imagined you two would be together.”
By the time they arrived at La Guardia, Shelby’s racing heart was overcome by two important needs. She had to pee and then speak to Lauren, as they hadn’t talked since that frantic phone call this morning. She guessed their conversation would be a long one, unless Lauren had raided the designer pills in her medicine chest and was passed out on the bathroom floor.
In anticipation of a stressful call, Shelby said her good-byes to Carol, hit the ladies’ room, and returned to the car to make the call. Never did she expect to hear a cheerful voice on the line.
“Hi. Where are you?” Lauren asked.
“You wouldn’t believe it if I told you, so let’s deal with you first. How are you doing?”
“Fine.”
“No, c’mon. Really.”
“I mean it. I’m okay. In fact I don’t have much time to talk, because do you remember Andrea Horowitz, the girl who was on my first Israel trip?”
“Not exactly.”
“Doesn’t matter. Avi and I went out with her and her husband a few times, but then they split up. Anyway, she’s divorced now, two kids, the whole bit, and I called her a little while ago to commiserate, and she happened to mention that she was going to a singles dance at the Temple tonight, and said I should go with her. So I said okay, and now she’s picking me up in a few minutes so we can go shopping for something nice to wear, and…”
“Whoa! Hold on,” Shelby exploded. “A few hours ago you were suicidal because your husband left you, and now you’re going to Bloomingdale’s so you can look hot at a singles dance?”
“Don’t say it like that.”
“But you’re not single, Lauren! I’m sure Avi will be back once he comes to his senses.”
“Maybe. But just in case…I mean what do you expect me to do? Sit around waiting for him to decide what he wants to do with his life?”
“Yes, actually. And correct me if I’m wrong, but in six short months, you’ll be the proud mother of twins. So even if you’re shopping for husband number three by then, you’re going to have to inform the lucky guy you’re coming to the party with Ike and Mike.”
“Whatever.”
“No. Not ‘whatever,’” Shelby mimicked the attitude. “I’m sure Avi realized he made a huge mistake and is on his way back. How would it look if you didn’t even wait a day before you started dating?�
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“He’s not coming back,” Lauren said.
“How do you know?”
“Because I spoke to his mother in Israel, and she told me that he called her three weeks ago to say he was coming home. And that whole business with his cousin and the rock band? It was a lie, so I’d think he was leaving to follow his dream, or something like that.”
“Uh-huh.”
“But don’t worry about the babies, Shel. I still want them. More than you could possibly know. And I already spoke to Mommy and Daddy, and they’re behind us one hundred percent. And I also called the divorce attorney I used for me and Allen.”
“Did he offer you a frequency discount?”
“Why are you being like this, Shel? I have to do what I have to do.”
“Me too.”
“What does that mean?”
“I don’t know.”
“You’re spooking me out. You aren’t thinking…you wouldn’t go and…oh my God. Promise me right now you’re not going to have an abortion.”
“Don’t be ridiculous. Things are working out exactly as I hoped. I got pregnant with twins. Avi ran away. We’re both single. Now we get to divvy up the litter. I’ve got dibs if one’s a girl.”
From that point, the conversation went downhill, and Shelby found herself so incensed by Lauren’s cavalier attitude, that it only occurred to her after they hung up that she’d never even told her about finding Matty Lieberman. But when she redialed, the answering machine picked up. Once again Lauren was off and running in the singles’ race. Gentlemen, start your party engines.
Shelby leaned back into the headrest and was about to close her eyes when she spotted Matty sprinting to the car holding a bouquet of flowers. To hell with Lauren. She was about to be alone with her long-lost love, and the sexual attraction to him was overpowering. If she could just have an hour to lie on top of this man, she’d die happy.
“These are for you,” he said, sliding into his seat and handing her the flowers.
“Thank you.” She looked down at the wilted mess that had probably been laying dormant in an airport refrigerator since last week. “You shouldn’t have.”
“I didn’t.” He sighed. “They’re from you-know-who. I tend to go for the arrangements that cost more than seven dollars.”
Shelby laughed. “Now, now. It’s the thought…”
“Do you want to know what she really said?” he asked.
“I’m not sure. Do I?”
“I’ll tell you anyway. She said ‘remember to use a condom. Who knows where she’s been’?”
“Get out of here!” Shelby clapped. “She said that?”
“I swear to you those were her exact words.”
“She’s even more of a pisser than I remember.” Shelby wiped her eye. “Why would she even think something like that? You’re a married man.”
“And you’re a pregnant woman.” He sighed. “It’s amazing. I know this woman my entire life, and she still floors me with the ridiculous things that come out of her mouth.”
“Yes, but her heart’s in the right place.” Shelby patted his warm hand.
“Do you…are you in a hurry to get back?” he cocked his head.
“Actually, no. I just spoke to Lauren, and she’s doing much better than I expected. But isn’t Gwen expecting you home to help her?”
“It’s okay. My wife is the Martha Stewart of entertaining. The only job she thinks I can handle is filling the ice buckets, and by now I have it down to a science. It’s all in the wrists.”
Shelby giggled. Could Matty be any more adorable? “What did you have in mind?” The back of the car, or a hotel in midtown Manhattan? Please?
“How would you feel about heading into the city?”
“Sounds great.” I hear Le Meridian has day rates.
“I like the Roof Garden at the Metropolitan Museum of Art. Have you been there?”
“No.” Damn! His mind wasn’t in the gutter like hers.
“C’mon then. The view of Central Park is great, and we can catch up on old times. Wait until you hear my life’s story. I promise you’ll be glued to your seat.”
“Believe me. I already am.”
See how a little car trouble can make a big difference when you’re trying to jump-start a relationship? If all that oil hadn’t dripped out on to the driveway, Shelby would have had to say her good-byes at the house and not had a good reason to see Matty again.
Am I getting good at this, or what?
Matty might have been right about the view from the Roof Garden at the Met being spectacular, but Shelby could have been atop Mt. Everest and not looked out. For her gaze was fixed on her subject, her thoughts focused on his heartening story. Even the cackling of mingling singles could not divert her attention.
Abby Rosenthal had been right, too. The reason Shelby was unable to locate her childhood friend was because his mother remarried, and her new husband adopted her children. From that day forward, Matthew Jay Lieberman ceased to exist by that name.
“Remember how my parents fought constantly?” he sipped his Dubonnet on the rocks.
Shelby nodded. Who could forget the constant shouting coming from the Liebermans’ house? She even recalled the time her father ran over in his bathrobe in the middle of the night to beg Ed and Carol to give it a rest. Things quieted down for a while, but eventually the familiar echo of yelling and car doors slamming returned.
“Believe it or not, things got worse after we moved. My dad went to work for this Hollywood talent agency, and it was so cutthroat, they canned him after three months.
“It was pretty bad. We were totally broke from the move, my mother was homesick, Wendy was just a baby and very fussy, and I was this lost soul who didn’t have a clue what had happened to my nice little world. I’d sit in my room and cry, which really got my dad crazy.
“I guess it was about a year later he split. He met some woman at a bar who had a few bucks from a lawsuit, and it was as if we never existed. That was hell. We couldn’t afford to keep the house, my mother couldn’t get a decent job because she had no one to watch Wendy…She’d just asked her parents if we could come back to live with them in New York, when a cousin of hers from Portland called to say we could stay with her until we got back on our feet.
“And that’s what we did. We sold the house in like two weeks, packed up the car, and it was Portland or bust.”
“Whatever happened to your dad?” Shelby asked.
“Never saw him again.” he shrugged. “Although I found out later he’d tried tracking us down. But by then my mom was already remarried, and would have told him to drop dead…which is exactly what he did.
“One night we got a call from his brother saying he had liver cancer, and had died in some seedy boardinghouse in a bad part of L.A. Can you believe it? My father? A drunken bum, penniless, dead at forty-six?”
“Unbelievable,” Shelby said, although the news of his early demise didn’t surprise her. She’d never liked Matty’s dad. He was either cranky or sleeping, and way too quick with the slapping hand. How many times had Matty come over with the imprint still on his face?
“But your mom got remarried. So were things okay after that?”
“I wish…Husband number two was another real prize, a Mr. Philip ‘Deke’ McCreigh. Portland’s own Donald Trump. Part confirmed bachelor, part real estate tycoon.”
“His name was Deke?” Shelby raised her eyebrow.
“What can I say? It was the Wild West. His brother was Pike, and his dad was Dodger. Every one had good-old-boy names.”
“Really? What was yours?” Shelby sipped her sparkling water and lime.
“Do you promise not to tell another living soul?” Matty looked around.
“Scout’s honor.”
“Guzzler.”
“Guzzler?”
“Don’t make fun. I thought it was rather distinguished compared to everyone else’s.”
“Was there any particular significance to the name, or
did you pick it out of a hat during sing-along time on a camping trip?”
“Touché.” He wagged his finger. “The name was given to me on a camping trip. But it was because I guzzled all the water out of everyone’s canteens.”
“Hey, you used to do that to me, too! You’d say, ‘Look at the birdie,’ then steal my cherry Kool-Aid.”
“Only because my mother would never buy that stuff. She was afraid we were all going to die from red dye number two. Remember? Anyway, after we moved to Portland, my mother answered a help wanted ad, and the guy who hired her was Deke. He needed a secretary, she needed a man. He liked her dancer’s legs, she liked his money. Six months later they got married, and for my thirteenth birthday, I got a stepdad and a bike.”
“That sounds wonderful. I mean especially after what you’d already been through.”
“Yeah, well, looks can be deceiving. I hated the son of a bitch. He drank a lot, and he was never around. But my mother didn’t care. She had money, prestige, and every year he’d buy her a new car so she could pull up to garden club meetings looking prosperous.”
“And I take it he eventually adopted you?” Shelby couldn’t help sounding like a reporter.
Matty nodded. “About a year after they got married, she convinced him it would look more proper if he took legal responsibility for us. And he was really big on looking proper.”
“And, that’s when you became Matthew J. McCreigh.”
“Yes.”
“I can’t even imagine how strange that must have been. To suddenly have this whole new identity, almost like you were in the witness protection program.”
“Tell me about it. But the strangest part about it was the deal he struck with us. He would only agree to adopt us if we agreed to stop being Jewish.”
“What did he expect you to do? Stop eating bagels?”
“Yes, and stop going to temple. And forget about having a Bar Mitzvah. Oh, and we also had to promise never to mention anything about the Jewish holidays or customs. Instead we became Sunday churchgoers so Deke could show us off to all the fine, upstanding, Christian neighbors who had started a whisper campaign about the money-grubbing Jew from New York who conned good old Deke into adopting her kids.”
A Little Help from Above Page 28
