Taking a deep breath, I nodded at Dr. Keenan, and he began running the probe over Nadina’s belly more quickly, so that the shapes on the screen came and went, morphing like time-lapse footage of a lava lamp. When he found what he was looking for, he nodded at the image. “There you go.”
Nadina and I stared at the twitching, Rorschach blob.
“Help us out here,” said Nadina, when the image failed to conjure up any gender we recognized.
“Boy,” said Dr. Keenan, as if it should have been obvious. “I’d bet my practice on it.”
• • •
Believe me, Nadina was not this chipper in the immediate aftermath of Mike’s second arrest. After a couple days of her usual post-apocalyptic pattern where I tried in vain to contact her, I went in to the school determined to lay it all before Mark Henneman and find out what was going on. Nadina’s mother was one step ahead of me, however, and I found she had already given him a complete run-down: the pregnancy, the adoption plans, how Mike flipped out, her own opinion, everything. The only thing I could add to his knowledge, and it was significant from my point of view, was why I had agreed to adopt the baby. This I attempted—I was at least getting more used to describing the revolution in my feelings and Nadina’s change of heart—but I still hadn’t figured out how to make it sound rational, since it wasn’t.
“My first instinct was to come and let you know what was going on, Mark,” I explained when I finished, “but Nadina was determined to tell Mike first, and she was leery of how everyone would respond. I didn’t mean to be underhand or secretive or do things behind your back.”
“Cass, I’ve gotten to know you well enough that I didn’t ascribe any of those motives to you,” he said, to my relief, “and don’t imagine we don’t appreciate the role you’ve played in this situation, getting Nadina to agree to carry the baby, but you’ll understand if we worry that other mentors and volunteers might get the wrong idea…”
“Of course, of course,” I assured him. “I would think the same thing. Me adopting the baby doesn’t fit the mold, to say the least. It’s hard to explain, weird, inappropriate.”
Mark Henneman and I agreed that, given the sensitivity and complexity of the situation, it would be better if I stepped down as Nadina’s mentor. It was hard enough for them to recruit mentors without having one around whose over-the-line adoption scenario blurred boundaries. Imagine me standing up to give my testimony in church: “I never imagined that a simple call to mentor a Camden School student would lead to total upheaval in my life. When she unexpectedly became pregnant, I felt led to adopt her child. This decision forced me to find a new living situation and robbed me of my opportunity to marry the man I loved.” Compelling.
“How’s Nadina doing?” I asked. “She won’t call me, of course.”
“She’s struggling right now with all the sudden changes, especially with the Mike situation,” Mark explained, sighing. “Mrs. Stern says she’s refusing to get out of bed.” That was a behavior I understood.
“Since I’m not her mentor anymore, would you object if I went and saw her at home?” I asked.
“Since you’re not her mentor anymore, Cass, you can do whatever you please.” He grinned at me. “Not that being her mentor ever stopped you.”
• • •
Mrs. Stern was a weary-looking, faded blonde, tall as Nadina, but much more gaunt. She opened the door of the apartment and peered out at me suspiciously. “Yes?”
“Hello, Mrs. Stern,” I said timidly. “I’m Cassandra Ewan, Nadina’s mentor—or, I was her mentor, rather. I wondered if I could speak with her.” It would’ve been more polite to call ahead, but I was afraid to risk a refusal, Mark Henneman having warned me that Mrs. Stern was not gung-ho on the adoption idea.
“Nadina’s not up to having visitors,” she grunted.
The door-opening narrowed, but, feeling like a vacuum-cleaner salesman of old, I thrust my foot preemptively across the threshold. “Please, may I just see her quickly? I’ve been trying to call her. I won’t stay long unless she likes.”
Another grunt. Then, “Nadina?” Mrs. Stern hollered. “That Cass is here. You wanna talk to her?”
“Fuck!” came Nadina’s exclamation. Faint, from the top of the stairs.
“You’ve got to talk to me sometime,” I insisted, raising my voice. “Can I come in?”
A pause. “Crap. Let her in, Mom.”
Nadina was flopped on her bed facedown, and she buried her face in the pillow when I came in.
“Can I open the window?” I asked. “It’s stuffy in here, and it’s actually nice out.” A muffled sound, which I interpreted as a yes. Sliding the window open as far as it would go, I took a deep breath of the fresh spring air and then perched on the end of her bed. “So I’m sorry about Mike. You were right that he would wig out, and I was wrong. I guess I just don’t understand why he went off the deep end.”
She sniffed, rolling onto her side. At least it didn’t look like she’d been crying this morning, but I’d seen that look too many times in my own mirror not to recognize it. Numbness. “Yeah, I told you,” she said slowly. “I knew the shit would hit the fan, and it did. Mike said he was too friggin’ young to become a dad, and that, just when he’d gotten his life how he liked it, I had to go and fuck everything up, and didn’t he have rights too, and he didn’t want this kid, and didn’t that count for anything.”
“Mike wasn’t becoming a dad,” I pointed out. “Not in anything but the biological sense. I don’t get it.”
“I don’t totally get it, either,” Nadina admitted. “But he was taking it totally seriously. Like, ‘I’m not giving any baby of mine to the friggin’ church lady. She can go find her own friggin’ baby. She thinks ʼcause she helps me get some sorry-ass job she can take my kid?’”
The exasperated sigh escaped me this time. For crying out loud, I was sick of being blamed for everything Mike didn’t like about his life, and I hadn’t heard any complaints about the music studio job up till now. No thanks, of course, but at least no complaints.
“So then he stormed out, and the rest is history?” I prompted.
“More or less. He did say one last thing. He said, ‘No way in hell is she getting my baby. I’ve got rights.’”
Sounds like I was going to need that adoption attorney after all. Daniel told me he’d finagled a free consultation with his law-school friend Lori Lincoln, but if Mike refused to sign the adoption consent, a consultation or two probably wouldn’t cut it. Maybe I could ask Daniel to sleep with her after all.
Putting this out of my head for later consideration, I tapped Nadina on the ankle. “So what is this about you refusing to get out of bed? Is it about Mike being in jail again?”
She stuffed her face back in the pillow, and I could barely understand her response. “No. I mean, it sucks, and he’s a total friggin’ idiot, but—”
“But what?”
“But – but—” Nadina rolled over onto her other side, facing away from me, and burst into tears. “I almost don’t even friggin’ care that he fucked up so badly, and I won’t even see him again for years, if ever. Mike’s a stupid loser. But I don’t want to do this by myself! I don’t want to be by myself! I hate being by myself!”
Patting the coverlet helplessly, I debated what to say. Something as cliché as “you’ve got me” would probably get my head bitten off. And didn’t I know how horrible it was to be alone? To feel like, no matter how much other people liked or loved you, you finally had to live your own life, do it alone. No one else could do it for you.
“I hate being by myself, too,” I said, after a moment. “I had Troy from the time I was a senior in high school until he died thirteen years later, and when he died, one of the worst parts wasn’t just missing him and missing Min, it was being alone.” Nadina was silent, but that was more promising than lashing out at me. Hesitantly, I continued. “And people from church would tell me that God was with me, but frankly I didn’t feel it. It really sucked.
I believe it now, that God is with me all the time, but only because of the people in my life. My friends and my family and…you. You’ve been one of the biggest signs to me, Nadina, that I’m not alone.”
She groaned. “Oh, shut up, Cass. I don’t want to hear your God talk now.”
“I’m sorry,” I said, biting back a smile. “I just wanted to let you know I wasn’t as alone as I thought I was, and you aren’t either. By the way, if you’d been returning my phone calls, you’d know already that James dumped me.”
This got her attention. Bolting upright, her spiky hair smashed flat on one side, she demanded, “What? That asshole? What was his problem?”
I held up my hands in surrender. “Go easy on the poor guy. He wasn’t ready to date a single mom. He’s only 27 after all.”
“27 is ancient!” retorted Nadina tactlessly. “Why do guys always cut and run when there’s something hard to do?”
“That isn’t true,” I objected. “I know lots of quality guys who can be depended on, like my dad and my husband Troy and my brother Perry.” And Daniel, a corner of my mind spoke up, but his name didn’t make it to my lips.
Reaching for her hand, I grasped it, and miraculously, she didn’t rip it away. “Look, Nadina. Not to be irritating, but take it from a girl with no man in her life—the best way not to feel alone is not to be alone. Don’t hide out from the people you do have in your life. I may not be Mike, but I’m your friend, and I love you. Love you like your mom does and Aunt Sylvia and Sonya and Ellie and your teachers at school. You’ve got to get your butt out of bed and back out in the world. Plus, you’re bathing my baby in stress hormones, and I don’t want it to come out a freak.”
• • •
That was a couple months ago. Nadina returned to school, pregnant, Mike-less and mentor-less, but really that last was a mere academic distinction because she and I saw each other and communicated more than ever. I took her to her doctor’s appointments and to the initial meeting with Daniel’s adoption attorney friend; I made sure she picked up her prenatal vitamin prescription and badgered her to eat well and exercise; I encouraged her to consider what she would do after the baby came, and to explore Aunt Sylvia’s offers for a fresh start. Over time, Mrs. Stern and I developed a tentative, polite relationship. It wasn’t that she wanted Nadina to keep the child, but she mistrusted my motives and suspected that I must be behind Nadina’s ultimate decision to move to Cleveland after the baby came.
“Mom’ll come too, eventually,” Nadina said dismissively, when I brought it up to her. “She’s just grouchy because it means she’ll have to try to get along with Aunt Sylvia.”
• • •
After Nadina’s ultrasound, I treated her to lunch. I claimed it was for her birthday, but it was also so I could stuff some healthy food into her. Especially since, that evening, a whole group of us would be meeting at Red Robin for the official celebration. If it was going to be a cheeseburger and fries for dinner, it was going to be soup and salad for lunch. Nor did I object to eating well myself, since I knew James would be there tonight, and I’d be hard-pressed to choke anything down. Nothing like an ex around to make you lose your appetite.
“A boy, huh?” said Nadina, inspecting her salad for offensive material. She picked out the almonds and broccoli bits but seemed to find the rest tolerable. “Guess you can’t name it Nadina Jr.”
“Mike’s still an option, luckily,” I said.
She laughed and flicked a crouton at me. “Really, Cass, what are you going to name him? Don’t pick anything dumb, okay? Or too fancy. Look at you and your brother.”
“Give me a little credit,” I protested. “I didn’t pick my name or Perry’s. I didn’t even get to pick Min’s. Family obligations. But I don’t have to consult anyone this time.”
“But I get veto power, right?” she asked. “On everything else I’ll butt out, but I don’t want you to pick anything really trendy.”
“That’s a terrible idea,” I said. “You’ll burn through every name I like.”
She rolled her eyes. “You’re the tight-ass, not me. Just give me a couple names.”
“Mildred Ewan.”
“That sounds like some kind of fungus.”
“See?”
“Whatever, Cass. Give me a real name. A real boy name.”
“Eustace.”
“Cass!”
“Okay, okay. How about Philip?”
“Uh uh. Then his initials are P-E. Like Pee. No way.”
“Max?”
“Max E. Think about it, Cass.”
“How about Troy, after my husband?”
“No dead people. You already named Min after dead people—you’d think you’d figure out by now.”
Pushing away my empty soup bowl, I looked square in her pale blue eyes. “All right, girlie. Here’s the real deal: I want to name the baby Edward. It’s my father’s real first name, even though everyone calls him Larry.”
Seeing that I was serious, she tried to be diplomatic. “But—did you think about—then he’d be called Eddie. Do you really like the name Eddie? Or Ed when he’s old, with a beer gut?”
“No,” I said carefully, “Edward would be called Ned for short. And I like ‘Ned’ because it sounds a little like Nadina. I want to name the baby after two people I really love and respect.”
Maybe it was all the extra hormones coursing through her pregnant system, but she blinked rapidly several times and began tearing her hunk of buttered bread to bits. Then, to my complete astonishment, she sprang up from her chair, knocking it back with a clatter, and leaned across all our half-empty dishes to hug me around the neck. It was brief but fervent, and before I could react she had released me and regained her seat.
“Dude,” she said in a thick voice, “Edward’s got my vote.”
Chapter 38: Round Robin
I had only seen James once in the past two months.
After he broke up with me, I was at a loss what to do about Free Universe. All along, except when I was doing voice work with Murray, there was never any real need for me to go into the office. I just liked it there, liked the people and the atmosphere and the interaction. It broke up my quiet, solitary days at the Palace. So when going in proved awkward, I stayed away, communicating with Riley via email and making semi-truthful excuses for myself: I had to go to doctor’s appointments, lawyer appointments; I was looking into additional job possibilities.
And I waited for James to give me some indication of what he would like me to do.
It came after a month: an email.
Cass:
We’ve scheduled a party to celebrate Antarctiquest’s launch and would like you to come. Nothing big. Maybe a cake outside of Riley’s cube. Thursday at 3:00.
Riley has been bugging me about why you haven’t come in lately. I think he’s kind of pissed at me, actually. Let me just say, please don’t stay away on my account.
James
Feet and heart dragging, I went to the party. James was cheery, polite, distant, and he took some personal call right during the cake-cutting and had to excuse himself. Seeing my eyes follow him, Riley gave me a sympathetic thump on the back and said a shade too loudly, “C’mon, Cass. That’s why everyone knows you don’t do office romances. Take Jeri and me—we’ve had to throttle back so we can get some work done.” Jeri certainly looked like she’d like to throttle something, but I appreciated Riley’s attempt to comfort me and gave him a wan smile.
That’s right, Cass. Buck up. Lord knows you’ve been through worse.
“The emails are fine,” Riley continued, “but my working style thrives on face-to-face interaction, Cass. I need people to bounce ideas off of. When I’m looking at your stuff, I need to have you right in front of me—like I’m the guru, and you’re taking dictation, right as the spirit moves me, you know?”
“Yeah, Cass, have mercy,” Jeri spoke up. Her reedy voice had a softer note in it—even Jeri missed me? “I got used to having you show up and dilute the Riley
effect. Without you he’s got nobody else to listen to his ramblings or his frakkin’ Jeopardy! obsession. If I hear Riley make one more Alex Trebek crack, I’m gonna stone him with his own frakkin’ petrified candy collection.”
Had Murray then proceeded to bemoan my loss, I imagine I would have caved then and there and started coming in a couple times a week again, but Murray had always been stony in his disapproval of office flirtation, and he continued to eat his cake now, making no show of mourning.
I scraped the frosting off my cake to give me a moment to think. “Just a little more time, okay?” I asked. “I’ll start coming in again, but just give me a little more time.”
So that was all I saw of James in two months. But now, for Nadina’s birthday, a large group of us, including her friends and their mentors, would be meeting at Red Robin for dinner. It wasn’t an official Camden School mentor activity, mind you, because I was no longer an official Camden School mentor, but it was close enough. Who knew what Mark Henneman had told the rest of the mentors—he had to say something to them, what with Nadina’s and my disappearance from the group and her increasingly obvious pregnancy—but exactly what he said was a mystery to me, since I was now out of the loop.
The restaurant was unusually crowded for a Tuesday night, it seemed to me. Being on pins and needles waiting for James to show up with Kyle, I barely managed to converse with Louella. At least I cleverly arranged to be at one end of the table so there wouldn’t be any open seats next to me, but when James and Kyle and Ray and Tan showed up, all the girls shrieked and rearranged themselves, abandoning me at the end so that James had to take the empty chair beside me, after all. It was so noisy, moreover, that he and I were effectively isolated. We managed to make dogged conversation about work, Kyle’s progress on his community service and fines, the weather, for Pete’s sake.
Mourning Becomes Cassandra Page 38
