by Gina LaManna
As silence swayed over the room like a dandelion gone to seed, drifting into oblivion piece by fluffy piece, Eliza’s throat went dry. The meaning of Penny’s words took some time to register, as if the connections between her brain synapses had slowed to a crawl. Once Eliza digested the information, it took her a moment longer to realize the implication of it.
She expected to feel horror. Dread. A sense of betrayal that cut beyond anything she’d ever felt. But as Eliza waited, took another sip of her wine, none of it set in. At best, she could muster a mild tingling in her extremities. Apparently her heart and head had already gone completely numb, leaving only her fingers and toes to react to the news.
“Congratulations!” Anne finally offered with a confused look at Eliza. “When are you due?”
“I—I haven’t even been to the doctor to confirm it’s real.” Penny sank back against the couch cushions. She stared at a pair of knobby knees. “I just took the test this morning, which is why it’s on my mind. I’m sorry to have blurted it out.”
“That’s what book club is for,” Anne said. “To discuss. So long as we leave my problems off the table. Is this good news?”
Penny heaved a breath. “It’s a surprise. I don’t know how far along I am. I didn’t suspect until…well, today.”
“Plenty of people don’t know they’re pregnant early on,” Anne said. “I wasn’t expecting to get pregnant with my twins, and I didn’t find out until I was eight weeks. And I’d been through two children prior and should have known the signs. I just thought I’d eaten too many cookies.”
Penny raised one slim shoulder and let it fall as if that were the most excitement she could muster. “I feel awful.”
“Why?” Anne asked.
Eliza was all but paralyzed on her stupid, overpriced sofa.
“This poor little human…” Mystified, Penny slid her hand over her stomach, looking shocked that life existed inside her. “He or she deserves to be loved. And I do love him or her! I mean, I think I do. But when I found out, I cried.”
Eliza forced herself to make a sound. It came out like a grunt. “That’s understandable. It’s a life-changing event.”
“Not tears of happiness,” Penny clarified. “I was devastated. I didn’t want to be pregnant.”
Anne reached forward, the gaunt, anemic glow to her skin brightening to a healthier shade of peach. The awkwardness between the two women evaporated like a droplet of water sizzling on a scorching pan. Anne obviously understood what Penny was going through, while Eliza felt lost.
“It’s very normal to have conflicting emotions.” Anne’s face was devoid of judgment. “Trust me.”
“But you have a husband, I imagine,” Penny said, not meeting Anne’s eyes. “A house, stable finances, friends.”
“Yes,” Anne said softly, “but I promise you, my life is not perfect. It is okay to feel whatever it is that you’re feeling. It’s probably a mix, and that’s natural.”
“This baby should be celebrated.” Penny looked hopefully at Anne as if wanting her to confirm or deny. “It’s an innocent little person and deserves love.”
“Bonding isn’t always natural or easy,” Anne said. “Even when the baby arrives. The love we have for our children grows with time. And even then, even with time…things happen.”
“But—” Penny cut herself off with a sip of her water. “I always wanted to be a mom. It just wasn’t supposed to happen this way.”
“As women, we find it shameful to admit the truth about motherhood—that it’s hard and confusing. Not every moment is a joyous occasion. Pregnancy isn’t necessarily a glowing, wonderful time in our lives. I was not a glowing, happy pregnant woman.” Anne gave a cough, then a laugh. “I had acne, my feet went up two sizes, and my stretch marks still haven’t faded.”
“But you wanted your children.”
“I’ve been through three pregnancies and had three entirely different experiences. With the twins, I have to admit—” Anne stopped abruptly, blinked her eyes furiously. “I’ve never told anyone this before.”
“I understand,” Penny whispered. “But if you don’t want to say it, that’s okay.”
“When I took that test, love was not the first emotion I felt. Let’s put it that way.” Anne considered, but then something in her face changed when she glanced at Penny. “If the doctor had told me I’d had a miscarriage early on, a part of me would have felt…”
“Relieved?” Penny suggested in a tiny voice.
Anne swallowed. Eliza could see the lump in her throat, so obviously painful.
“I thought the same thing,” Penny said. “At this point in my life, a baby will make everything so complicated. But I could never…”
“You don’t have to explain,” Anne said, her face paling once more. “I know. You’re not alone. I have to believe we’re not alone. My husband and I hadn’t planned to have any more children. We thought we were done. Then, I found out I was pregnant—not with one but with two babies.”
“I can’t imagine.”
“I couldn’t, either. I couldn’t fathom bringing one more life into this world, let alone a second. Two more mouths to feed, two more college tuitions, two more little people to fit into my heart. My heart was already full. How could I possibly find enough love for everyone?”
“And?” Penny held her breath.
“And I guarantee you’ll be a better mother than me.” Anne gave a weak smile. “I left my family, Penny. Samuel was barely one year old when I left him alone.”
Penny just blinked. Eliza knew the story, but she was surprised Anne was sharing it so readily. Maybe Anne and Penny were better friends than Anne had let on. Eliza wondered if that was purposeful on Anne’s part or a simple fact she’d forgotten to mention.
“I walked out my front door and didn’t come back,” Anne said. “They found me in Palm Springs at a motel. Just sitting outside, sipping a margarita by the pool. Not rejoicing, mind you. Just sitting. Staring. Devastated. How could I go back after what I’d done? I knew it was wrong. But I didn’t know how to fix it.”
Penny inhaled sharply. “But you came back?”
“I left in the first place because the voices in my head were telling me I was a bad mother,” Anne said. “I never felt good enough. I didn’t feel bonded with my baby. I missed picture day at Gretchen’s school. I stopped breastfeeding Sammy at three weeks because it fucking hurt. Everything felt wrong. I thought that my leaving would be the best thing for my kids.”
“I’m so sorry,” Penny said. “That sounds awful to go through. How did you…”
“Get better?” Anne scoffed. “Mark thought rehab would fix me. It didn’t.”
“Why not?”
“Because that wasn’t the problem,” Anne said. “Sure, I did drink to cope from time to time, but I was never a true alcoholic. I could have stopped, and I did. I checked myself into rehab, but that was to make Mark happy—not me. Once I figured that out, I left. Alcohol wasn’t the root of my problem.”
“What was?”
“I had postpartum depression—that was a big part of it. It lingered for a long while, undiagnosed,” Anne said. “I ignored it. But once I let myself get treated for it, things got better. Slowly. But not a day goes by I don’t feel guilty about my choices.”
“Anne, that’s not—”
“I’m not telling you this story to get sympathy. I’m telling it to you so that you know you’re not alone,” Anne said. “Can you imagine how terrified I felt when I found out two more children were on the way? I had already left my family once. Abandoned them. How could I possibly survive the hormones, the trauma of childbirth, the intensity of newborn life all over again?”
“How did you do it?” Penny’s voice was small.
“I still don’t know if I am doing it,” Anne said. “My point is that we’re all dealt a shitty hand of cards sometimes. But things changed for me when I realized that I’m the only mother these kids will ever have. I am their best shot. I make
mistakes, huge ones, but at the end of the day, I love them, and they love me. Some days, I won’t lie, I still want to disappear. But guess what? I haven’t yet, and you won’t either. Because you can do this, Penny. If you want to.”
Penny looked on the verge of tears. Anne had already gone there and back again emotionally. Meanwhile, Eliza found herself stiffly watching from the couch. For her, motherhood was a road not traveled.
“Maybe this is too personal,” Anne said, “but have you considered your options?”
“I never thought of not keeping the baby.” Penny shrugged, trying for matter-of-fact and falling short. “I’ve always wanted to be a mom. But I haven’t had time to process everything. I haven’t even told the baby’s father yet. We’re not…together.”
Eliza hadn’t realized she’d been holding her breath. Was it her imagination, or had Penny’s eyes flicked over at hers for the briefest of seconds?
“I met him at one of my acting classes,” Penny said. “We only slept together a few times. We weren’t even in a proper relationship.”
“You will tell him, though, won’t you?” Anne asked. “If he’s any sort of man, he’ll be there to support you—one way or another.”
“Telling him is the right thing to do,” Penny said, though she sounded as if she wanted to be convinced otherwise. “But I’d hate to ruin his life, too. The father, he’s…young and sort of stupid. We both are, I guess. I thought I was being safe on birth control, but I guess it failed.”
“That happens.” Anne raised her eyebrows knowingly.
“Not that there’s anything I can do about it now,” Penny said. “The thing is, I don’t want to marry this guy just because we’re having a baby together. And it’s not as if he has any money. I wouldn’t expect him to help out in any way, but he probably deserves to know.”
“I think so,” Anne said. “And who knows? Maybe he’ll step up to the plate and surprise you.”
“Maybe,” Penny said.
Eliza watched her face carefully, and Penny’s expression said it all. The father of this child wasn’t going to be pleased with the pregnancy. Eliza would bet money on it. But young and stupid? Roman was many things, but he was neither of those. Was Penny lying about the father, or had Eliza assumed wrong?
The front door opened then, interrupting the tense conversation. Roman’s long legs stretched before him, carrying his trim physique around the corner where he came to an abrupt stop in the entryway to the living room. A flicker of surprise crossed his face, stamped out quickly as he crossed his arms and studied the three women before him.
Eliza cleared her throat. “Welcome home, honey.”
A layer of tension as thick as butter descended over the room. Roman’s gaze slid to each of the ladies in turn. When his gaze landed on Penny, Eliza watched as she returned his stare. Penny didn’t look surprised but perhaps defiant. Instead, it was Anne who had gone pale. Curious, curious.
“Did I misplace my invitation?” Roman asked nonchalantly. “I wasn’t aware we were having a dinner party.”
“It’s book club,” Eliza finally managed. “We’re just chatting. Catching up on personal news.”
“I see.” Roman glanced around the room. “Anything exciting in the world of books?”
“I don’t know about books,” Eliza said briskly, “but we’ve just learned Penny is pregnant. Isn’t that wonderful news, darling?”
TRANSCRIPT
Defense: At the time you found out you were pregnant, were you in a relationship with the baby’s father?
Penny Sands: I…er…I thought I was. But it ended shortly thereafter.
Defense: Why did the relationship end?
Penny Sands: He wanted me to get an abortion. I wanted to keep the baby.
Defense: Yesterday, Anne Wilkes testified that she drove you to a clinic on October 24, 2018. She stated that you were thinking about getting an abortion.
Penny Sands: I wasn’t really considering it.
Defense: Then why did you go to the clinic?
Penny Sands: It’s hard to explain.
Defense: Try.
Penny Sands: I was broke, young, in a tenuous relationship that, in retrospect, was doomed from the start. I thought the baby deserved better than me. So yes. I went to the clinic. I walked inside, made the appointment. Anne—my closest friend—came with me. But I couldn’t do it.
Defense: Why not?
Penny Sands: Because I loved the baby already.
Defense: What happened when you told the father that you were planning to keep the baby?
Penny Sands: He threatened me.
Defense: Did you call the police to report it?
Penny Sands: No, I didn’t.
Defense: I have here, from the victim’s notes, that you were the one who threatened him. And then he took out a restraining order on you.
Penny Sands: I sure did.
Defense: Sure did what?
Penny Sands: I told him that he’d be sorry if he ever interfered with my life or my baby’s again. If that’s a threat, then yes. I threatened him.
TWENTY-FIVE
Four Months Before
October 2018
I’m sorry, Mom. I can’t come home for the holidays. It’s just not in the cards this year.” Penny winced as she broke the news to her mother. “I have to work.”
“I thought you didn’t like your job at that casting office?”
“It’s still a job, and I need the money. I knew I’d have to make sacrifices when I moved out here.”
“But a girl belongs with her family during the holidays. Are these sacrifices worth it?”
“It’s all part of the gamble.”
Penny realized the irony of her words even as she spoke them. A gamble. Everything had been a gamble since she’d left the safety of her own little bubble. Even the wineglass before her was a gamble. Would Eliza notice it was missing? Would she care?
A hesitation spanned several long, uncomfortable seconds before Amy continued. “I say this lovingly, Penny. But you gave up a career, a family, a lovely apartment—a home. For what? A crappy apartment, a married man, and an awful job?”
“How would you know my apartment is crappy?”
“I wasn’t born yesterday, Penny Sue Sands. I know how much apartment you can get for the money you’re making, and it isn’t much. Also, your father showed me how to use Google’s street view the other day, and your place looks like a dump.” She paused to catch her breath. “I don’t know what’s gotten into you lately, but I feel like my daughter is getting all turned around out there.”
Penny’s chest felt as if it were wrapping around her like a boa constrictor. Beginning to squeeze. Lose air. She couldn’t breathe. “That’s not fair. You don’t know what it’s like being in a new city all by myself, figuring everything out on my own. I was a big fish in a small pond back home, and I had to know if I could be a big fish in an ocean.”
“And what if you’re not cut out for that sort of life?” Amy asked. “Big fish in the ocean are mean. They eat the pretty, nice little fishies.”
“I can handle it.” Penny reached for the borrowed wineglass and twisted it around, swirling the sparkling water she’d poured inside. She watched as the little bubbles gulped for air against the surface. “I’m not as naive as you think.”
“Oh, I don’t believe that.”
Penny made a noncommittal noise in her throat. The wineglass was one of four items she’d taken the last time she’d been at Eliza’s. The time she’d announced to the world that she was pregnant. She’d adopted two wineglasses—one she used, one that was untouched, still wrapped in a sweater and tucked in her purse.
The other two items were some of the riskiest things she’d taken yet. She’d spotted a set at Eliza’s house, one both expensive and sentimental. A set that was likely to be missed, a set that went against all Penny’s rules. She was getting careless.
Penny ran her thumb over the knife’s handle and read the inscription. Roman�
��s and Eliza Tate’s initials, along with their anniversary date, were carved into the handle. There was a matching spoon that Penny had also taken…just because. The spoon she hadn’t even bothered to unpack from her purse. The knife…she took joy in hoarding it because it wasn’t deserved.
Roman and Eliza’s marriage was doomed. They no longer had a need for the knife to commemorate their union. Roman had gotten Penny pregnant. Whether he took the news well or took the news poorly, it wouldn’t matter. Surely Eliza wouldn’t take him back after that.
“Then tell me, is it working?” Penny’s mother startled her back to reality. “Are you finding yourself out there?”
Penny fell silent. The truth was that she hadn’t found herself at all. If anything, she’d lost more than she’d found. Bits of her had scattered, torn apart like wet tissue paper stomped across the city’s dreary streets, shards of color left to drift in muddy gutters.
She wondered if she could ever be whole again. If someone could scoop up all those scattered bits of tissue and papier-mâché her back together into something bigger, stronger, bolder, more colorful than ever before. It had to be possible. Otherwise, how could she support herself, let alone a child?
It is possible, Penny determined, reminding herself that life hadn’t been entirely awful since she’d arrived. She pictured bits of beauty that belonged exclusively to her: a bouquet of fresh flowers from Anne, a thoughtful text from Ryan, the wonder and awe over the whisper of new life growing inside her.
Penny could recover. She could gather the broken pieces, the torn shreds. With a bit of glue and patience and support, she could be beautiful again. The ripped and torn pieces wouldn’t be discarded; they’d be woven into the person she would become.
“I think I’m on the right track,” Penny said softly. “But to find myself, I think I have to lose myself first. And I don’t know how to manage that.”
“Oh, honey.” Her mother’s voice broke.
“I can’t explain everything just yet,” Penny said, barely holding it together. “Trust me for a little while longer. I have to go now. I’ll talk to you later.”
