by Tif Marcelo
As she walked to the kitchen table, Frank said, “Oh, by the way! Regina mentioned last month that she liked to cook and bake, so I asked her to make a special dessert today. Red velvet cake. Is that too much with the vampire theme?”
The crowd answered with a resounding no.
“Cake is cake.” Adelaide took Regina’s side—her plate was empty. Her friend had a hesitant look. After surveying the table, Adelaide placed a dinner roll on Regina’s plate, whispering. “Bread is pretty safe to try. But you’ve got to eat when you can.”
“Thank you.” Regina nodded.
“How did you even make the dessert?”
“I sucked it up. I didn’t want to disappoint him or the rest of the group.”
Adelaide admonished herself and her selfishness. Here was Regina, who made a cake for others while feeling unwell, and Adelaide had thought of no one but herself. She filled a glass with ice and lemon water and handed it to Regina. “Go sit, rest.”
As Adelaide contemplated having two pieces of red velvet cake to drown her sorrows, the group’s topic of conversation switched to food. She piled her plate and returned to the living room.
“I’m not a cook,” Adelaide admitted.
“You can cook,” Sophie said, with an overfull mouth, the bottom of her lip smudged with frosting.
“Yeah, but only simple stuff and appetizers, and easy dessert. But not meals—Matt is the cook. He grills. He has all of his family recipes. I’ve got mac and cheese, and I still get that wrong, though don’t tell my mama, else I’ll have to cash in my woman card. During our last deployment, I think I lost ten pounds because after a while, Burger King and Subway just turned my stomach.” She flattened her lips into a line. Around her, the clubbers reflected back pity. “I just wish deployments weren’t even a thing, y’all. I don’t know how you’ve done it all this time, Soph. Four times in ten years! This is our third in six, and I’m tired already.”
“Is it horrible to say that I’m happy they’re gone?” Nadine Sox interjected. She was older, with teenagers. “The last couple of weeks before they leave is always chaos. This last time, the tension was so high, none of the kids slept, which meant I couldn’t sleep because to sleep with teenagers roaming the house is just asking for trouble. I hate to sound like a brat, but I needed to breathe, and the only way that was going to happen was when he left. Though it’s just as hard now that they’re gone. My only consolation, seriously, was this book.” She lifted The Passage from her lap. “I kept thinking about Amy and her journey. How in the beginning she was caught up in the unknown but had no choice but to trust in whatever that force was. But in the end she was given all the extra powers to do good.”
“You mean she was injected,” Wendy quipped, raising an eyebrow.
“Sure, injected. Sort of like us.” Kerry laughed. “When they raised their right hand, it was like we did, too.”
Adelaide was mollified. Everyone was in the same boat, but there she was, complaining to herself, and she didn’t even have any kids. She didn’t have other humans to take care of, or any extra responsibility that fell onto her lap. It was just her, her beautiful apartment, and her dog.
Some XO’s wife she was. She had everything she ever needed but couldn’t seem to focus on it. Instead, she was jealous.
It was shameful.
Adelaide straightened her posture. I can do this. I’ve done it before, and I can do it again.
“I’m sorry. I acted pathetic earlier,” she said. “It doesn’t help for me to be so negative.”
“It’s all right. The first couple of months are always the hardest,” Sophie said.
Adelaide nodded at Sophie’s calming words. In the last two months, Adelaide had begun to see Sophie and Regina as bookends. While Regina was young and idealistic, Sophie brought sage advice and logic.
Still, despite her respect for these women, Adelaide had not told them about her lost pregnancies because that was too intimate, made her too vulnerable.
So she put on a smile despite feeling raw, while the eyes of the group were on her. She didn’t want to be judged or pitied. Nor did she want the group’s mood to plummet with her personal issues. “I know. I’m just glad you’re all here with me. I don’t know what I would have done without you. I definitely don’t know if I would have read this eight-hundred-page book.”
The comment brought on a collective exhale, and they launched into their discussion and talked about life until most of the food was gone and half the kids were asleep on parents’ laps. And while Adelaide was glad the conversation had moved on, it became clearer to her that no one could understand her situation. Every person there was a parent or was going to be one. And even at a welcoming Thanksgiving meal of unlikely friends coming together, Adelaide couldn’t shake the loneliness that surrounded her.
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
Regina
Day After Thanksgiving, 2011
Regina accepted the video chat with a tinge of fear in her heart, and Logan’s face materialized on the screen. He had the camera angled so his normally square jaw was rounded and his left cheek was twice the size of his right. His side of the world looked as if it were filtered with green, probably from the dim light in his trailer. But one thing was clear: he looked exhausted.
Her heart squeezed, and she admonished herself for her initial reaction. She’d spent the last day obsessing over the moment when she’d tell him about the pregnancy, and she’d forgotten that he was clearly a man who had volunteered his life to serve others. He was good. And she had nothing to worry about.
Hope filled her that her announcement would put a smile on his face.
The truth of the moment sank in a little deeper. They were having a baby.
A baby!
Regina knew that she was lucky. Her college best friend had had an accident as a teen and couldn’t have a baby. There were new studies about this thing called PCOS that caused pain and often infertility.
This baby would come from her. This baby would be her bond to the world. And she knew she would be a good mother. Regina would be protective and doting and present.
This baby could be the thing that would finally make her and Logan’s relationship feel real and on solid ground.
“Hey, sweetie,” Regina said, heart heavy with all of her self-talk. Her hand covered the ziplock bag containing the positive test, as if Logan was in the same room and could have peeped into the contents. “You must have gotten my vibe, because I was planning on Skyping you just now.”
He yawned. “I’m headed to bed. I barely made it to my CHU. What’s up? How was today? Feeling better?”
“Yes. Er, and I found out what was making me sick.”
“Yeah?” His eyes wandered above her face, distracted. “Hey, I see lights behind you.”
Regina turned around, to her artificial tree. “I put it up right after Thanksgiving dinner, as usual. I’m hoping to add more ornaments this year.”
“Wanna see my tree?” He turned the camera so it tilted to his bedside table next to the twin bed. His bedsheets were crumpled in the middle, but Regina ignored that big pet peeve of hers. “I just got it today. Along with all the treats and cards you and the neighborhood sent. Tell them thanks. The company loved it. The cards from the kids made some of the soldiers tear up.”
Her face flushed at the natural segue in the conversation. Oh my God, he is going to freak out. “I’m so glad they got there. And um… well… speaking of kids.” She swallowed a breath, wishing that there was a way she could’ve said all of this in person, because it would have been easier. Right now, his attention seemed scattered. On his side of the world, his small TV projected background chatter.
“Yeah?” he asked absentmindedly.
Regina heaved a breath and spit out the words. “I’m pregnant.”
His eyes snapped to hers. “What?”
“I’m… we’re… pregnant.” Except this time, she said it with gusto and a bigger smile, with an enthusiasm that she was sure
would transfer across the screen.
He sat up and leaned in toward the screen. “Pregnant, like with a baby?” His face looked bewildered. “You?”
“Me.” Worry rushed up her spine. “I mean, I still have to get a blood test, but I’ve got this.” She showed him the baggie, held it close so the plus sign was right up to the camera’s view.
“I… oh…”
She waited for more. She chewed the inside of her cheek, and counted the seconds that passed. One… two… three…
“I… I thought we were waiting to… and your birth control.”
A niggle of annoyance zinged through her. She intuited the beginning of a fight. “I took my birth control on time. But it isn’t a hundred percent. We were waiting, but we’re not anymore, obviously.”
His mouth fell open, though nothing came out of it.
“Do you have anything else to say?” she said, after several painstaking seconds.
“What did you expect me to say?”
She felt a mix of confusion, then some empathy because she had been speechless herself a couple of days ago. And then came shame, as if this was only her doing. As if she’d engineered this pregnancy to raise the stakes in their marriage.
“I… I don’t know, except it wasn’t this.” Her voice shook. Having a baby, making a baby, was not a one-person endeavor.
Regina’s fear from the grocery store returned. It rose like a tide in her psyche, coming from deep inside her. Up to this point, she’d done everything she could so she would have choices in her life. What if she and Logan were going to be like her parents had been, forced into staying together for the sake of a child?
You’re not your mother. These were Sophie’s words to her. Her friend had spoken with sureness, and just as that statement had convinced her then, Regina, in recalling it, believed it now.
She gathered her courage. “Logan, if you’re not ready for this… because I am, and I intend to be the best mother this child could have.”
“Whoa,” Logan said. “Regina. Don’t get this wrong. At all. Babe, I’m just in shock.” His eyes rounded in fright. His Adam’s apple bobbed, his sign of insecurity. “I’m… scared, too. But it doesn’t mean that I’m not with you on this.” And as if reading her mind, he said, “I know what you’re thinking right now.”
Logan indeed knew exactly what she was thinking, so she gave words to it, intending on making it clear. “My father left us, Logan. He left us for an entirely different family, and I don’t want that to happen here. I want us to be honest with each other.”
After seconds of silence, her husband spoke. “This is our baby. Yours and mine. I will love this baby as much as I love you.”
Regina felt tears well behind her eyelids. She nodded, her anger subsiding. She had to remember that she’d had over forty-eight hours to process this news. That in the beginning she was shocked herself. “I love you.”
His eyes softened, and a soft smile graced his face. “I’m going to be a dad. You’re going to be a mom.”
“Yes, yes. We’re going to be parents.” Regina’s face warmed, and her body sagged with relief. This was the Logan she fell in love with.
“We have a lot to discuss. About our plans, together. How can we raise a child if we’re both on active duty? But how can we do it without the both of us working? Babies are expensive.”
She nodded. “I was thinking the same thing. But we have time to talk about it.”
“You’re right. Yes, we do.” He held up a hand and pressed his palm up against the screen, and she did the same, not quite lining up with his. She shut her eyes, hoping to feel his comfort through the image.
They were in for a long road.
PART FOUR
Whatever the problem, be part of the solution. Don’t just sit around raising questions and pointing out obstacles.
—Bossypants by Tina Fey
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
Sophie
Present Day, Sunday
Two mornings later, Sophie leaned back against the leather chair and pulled on the wooden handle. Her legs jerked upward, and she sighed at the instant relief. It had been a long night; she had forgotten what it was like to have a toddler in the house. Babies had their sixth senses, too, and no bribe could get Genevieve to settle the last couple of nights, not in the playpen next to her mother, and especially not in the crib. Regina, who had been sleeping in Genevieve’s room, had not been able to sleep, either, and soon, Sophie and Regina ended up sharing the poster bed, with Genevieve somewhat asleep between them.
The arrangement wasn’t ideal, especially since their blowup the other day had erected a tougher barrier between them. But they did what they had to do for sleep and sanity.
Sophie’s phone buzzed in the chair’s cupholder, startling her. Jasper’s name appeared on the screen.
Haven’t heard from you. Check in?
She debated on how to respond and if she even should. Jasper would simply insist that she return home now that Adelaide was on the mend, in her second day of recovery. That Sophie mustn’t subject herself to her and Regina’s former drama.
As if her partner had read her mind, another text flew in:
Hope Regina’s on her best behavior.
Instead of answering the text, Sophie opened her new-to-her copy of Waiting to Exhale. She intended to stay in Alexandria as long as she needed to, and he would have to accept it. So she focused her attention on the previously loved book, pages yellowed and dog-eared, with pencil markings in some corners.
It was ridiculous for her to be reading a classic when she had an entire Kindle app full of books, many of which had been published in the last year. Heck, she had her current book club book—she’d found and joined a neighborhood book club in the subdivision they had moved into—yet to read. Dominicana by Angie Cruz promised to be a page-turner.
And yet, here she was. Surely, Waiting to Exhale no longer held the same kind of meaning and emotion almost three decades after it was written. But she would read the book in the name of friendship—with Adelaide, of course. Not with Regina. Sophie prided herself on not going back on her word, and she wouldn’t start now. At the end of the week, whenever Adelaide wanted “book club” to occur, Sophie would be ready.
From upstairs, she heard a thump from Adelaide’s room. She had checked in on her earlier that morning, and her friend was wide awake and reporting more pain on board. Admittedly, Sophie didn’t like the way Adelaide had looked—her walk and demeanor were those of a patient fresh from surgery. By now, she should have been up and about, albeit moving slowly.
When no other noise followed, Sophie settled into the seat.
Before she knew it, Sophie had read thirty pages of the book and her body felt the telltale signs of relaxation: legs crossed at the ankles in front of her, her shoulders no longer at the level of her ears. And she was properly put in her place—the book still did have relevance. So much time had passed since she’d read Waiting to Exhale years ago that it felt like she was meeting these women for the first time. The characters’ personalities jumped off the page, and Sophie was already invested in their lives. Sadly, the movie version also played in her head. The catch-22 of book-to-movie adaptations: the scenes were created for the reader.
“Ahem,” a voice said, and Sophie peeked above her book. Regina was leaning on the doorjamb, holding a fork. “I’ve got breakfast ready. Pancakes, bacon, and eggs.”
Sophie pressed her lips together. Regina had beaten her to the kitchen that morning and shooed her away, a cup of coffee pushed into her hand. If Sophie had not been exhausted, she might have been insulted at not being asked to at least help.
“Thank you.”
“I see you’re reading the book.”
“I am. We said we’d do it.”
“Correction. You said you would, and you agreed for the both of us. Which was wrong.”
Sophie laid the book on her lap and leveled Regina with a glare. Apparently, their fight the other day wasn’t enough
for her. “So you’re saying you’re not going to read it.”
Her face crumpled slightly. “No. I’m just saying I didn’t get to agree myself.” She sighed. “How far in are you?”
Sophie paused at this unexpected reaction. Was that acceptance? “Three chapters. You?”
“Um… same.”
Sure.
But before Sophie could challenge Regina, a thump upstairs brought their gazes to the ceiling. “I’ll go check on her,” Sophie said.
“I’ll come with you,” Regina said. “I just need to grab Gen.”
“No worries, I’ve got it.” Sophie stood up to make the point. Truly, too many cooks spoiled the broth, didn’t Regina know that?
Sophie continued her imaginary argument until she reached the second-floor landing, where she heard sniffling.
Adelaide. She rushed to the door and gave a cursory knock, though not even a half second later, she pushed through. On the bed perched Adelaide, pressing a pillow against her belly. Tears streamed down her face.
“Ad, are you okay?” Sophie glanced at her handwritten notes on the bedside table, and sure enough, it wasn’t time for Adelaide’s next dose of pain medicine. In fact, her pain meds were maxed out.
Her voice croaked. “It hurts. I woke up and everything hurts. And I just got sick in the bathroom.”
“You threw up?”
“Yeah.”
“That doesn’t sound good. I think I should call your doctor.”
She groaned. “No. I don’t want to be away from Genevieve.”
“Right. I know you don’t.” Sophie took a second to soften her voice. “Ad, sweetie… it’s obvious that your pain meds aren’t sufficing. Let me take a look at your incisions.”
“Okay.” She lifted her nightgown, and Sophie spied the incision sites. There were two, and they looked clean, though slightly red. But Adelaide’s belly was distended, and it radiated heat. At a slight touch, Adelaide sucked in a breath.
Oh dear. Sophie’s mind ran down the possibilities of what could be causing these symptoms, and it immediately jumped to the worst-case scenario, as it always did.
