In a Book Club Far Away
Page 14
“Ah, Ad, it never does quite turn out that way.” Sophie laughed. “Goodness, I can’t even remember what my dreams were when I was in my twenties. Life pushes us in different directions. Sometimes it’s hard enough to just keep one foot in front of the other.”
“And we’ve made choices to accommodate for the surprises or to try something new, right? Like living in a town house instead of picking a colonial.”
“True,” Sophie nodded. “Like going to grad school in the middle of a deployment.”
“Soph.” Adelaide dug deep into what she’d wanted to ask, to the bottom of it. If there was someone to ask, it was Sophie, who had been on this Army life road longer than her, who had survived it. “What if I want different? It’s okay, right?”
“Of course it is.” Sophie’s answer was swift and quick. Then, she took a moment, looked down into her coffee. “We’re not saddled with permanence, you know? Sort of like the books we read, the characters. We get to have an arc, too. We get to change, even if it’s unexpected. But I do think we’ve got to let someone know when things change. Like the characters in books, they’ve got to talk to one another.” She wiggled her phone in the air.
“Maybe you’re right,” Adelaide said.
Their conversation trailed when a nurse came in to take vital signs, and in the break, Adelaide thought of Matt and her mother, the other characters in her life’s book. It was one thing to think about and want change, and it was another to actually admit it.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
Adelaide
December 2011
Before Adelaide knew it, the snow came in full force, and it was Christmastime.
Three months down, and six to go in this deployment.
Deployments passed much more quickly when Adelaide had things planned, when she had things to do. Distraction, after all, was the best solution to malaise. And while she’d allowed herself to grieve the loss of another pregnancy, to dither about what her life could have been if she had been the one pregnant was useless. So she’d decided to try to just “get over it.”
Still, Adelaide regressed, at times. When their spouses came home in six months, Sophie would have thriving twins to meet Jasper, and Regina would have a baby—a baby! And what was Adelaide going to have to show for it?
Adelaide dipped the paintbrush into the can with a little more force than she’d intended and got her thumb and index finger painted along with the brush, ruining her manicure. Alone, on her knees in Regina’s spare bedroom, soon to be nursery, she took a deep breath.
She was doing a lot of that these days, this deep breathing.
She glided the brush against the baseboards, turning them from natural brown to white. Regina had wanted a white nursery. White on white, with pops of yellow. And Adelaide had agreed to help. She was more than willing to fill her days, even if it was just to volunteer to decorate.
“I wish I could help you,” Regina said from the kitchen, where she was chopping veggies.
Regina was only twelve weeks pregnant—she finally had her first appointment a couple of weeks ago, which Adelaide had attended—and while Regina wasn’t showing yet, Adelaide could already tell a difference in her. Regina was a little fuller in the face; she glowed. “No way. Even if this paint is supposed to be fume-free, why risk it?”
“I just feel really useless.”
“You’re not useless. You put up your Christmas decorations. You’re getting ready for your mom’s visit. You go to work every day. You’re growing a baby.”
“I guess I am, right?” She lay a palm against her belly. “My mom’s going to freak when she sees me. Honestly, sometimes I forget I’m pregnant. Since my morning sickness went away, all I feel is a little bloated, though I’ve been perpetually hungry. I’ve been cooking up a storm.”
I would never forget. Adelaide’s brush went off course with the thought.
“I hope you don’t mind some vegetable fried rice for lunch. I’m trying this new recipe out.”
Adelaide was thankful for the change in subject. “I’m more than happy to taste test every one of your dishes through whatever cravings you may have.”
“Have I said how great you are? Sophie, too. Especially on the day I found out I was pregnant. I was in shock, and if it wasn’t for the both of you—”
Eyes on her work, Adelaide steadied her hand. “That’s understandable. We’re on our own, not exactly ideal for finding out such life-changing news.”
“And thanks, too, for keeping it secret for now. I’m not ready to tell the rest of the world, not until I’m further along.”
That halted Adelaide, and she sat back on her heels. A pain started in her chest, and Adelaide bit her lip to temper her jealousy. She should’ve been happy for Regina, end of sentence. “I totally get it. Your secret is safe with us.”
“You’re amazing at this, Adelaide.”
Adelaide looked up to Regina, who was watching her from the kitchen. Her cheeks warmed at the compliment. “Do you mean volunteering myself to make your bedroom into one of my design experiments?”
“Yes, exactly that. First, for coming over today when you could be planning your trip to your parents’, and second, the painting. It’s so overwhelming to figure out what to buy and where, and honestly I wasn’t expecting to have a nursery. We’re due to move right after the baby’s born.”
“Nonsense. Can you imagine the kind of empty boxes we’d live in if we didn’t actually settle into our homes? You’ve got to make it like we belong here, or we never will. Besides, what we’re doing isn’t hard to rehab whenever it’s time to go.”
“Still! You got right down to the core of what I wanted for the nursery. I feel like you were made for this.”
Adelaide shrugged. “That part’s easy for me. Kind of the one thing I’m good at.” She dipped the brush into the paint can once more, continuing her work. “With everything else, I’m a Jill-of-all-trades and a mistress of none. My path has been a pretzel. I have a business degree but never used it. We moved all the time and I’ve been”—she counted it out on her hand—“a substitute teacher, a post day-care worker, a Gap seasonal cashier, and a part-time administrative assistant. All good jobs, but none that spoke to me as a career.”
Saying it all aloud made her chest flutter in mild panic. Like she was lost and couldn’t find her way out of the woods.
How was it possible to feel lost despite being around friends and without any real worry?
It was possible.
Because she’d thought she’d be pregnant by now. She’d thought she’d have a family. She hadn’t insisted on solidifying a career because children were supposed to be on the horizon.
And yet.
And yet.
Regina spoke over the oil sizzling in the pan, and the fragrant scent of garlic wafted through the room. “That basically tells me you’re good at everything. You’re great at coordination. I think there’s a career in that. And I mean, you did start the best book club in the whole world.”
Regina’s words knocked Adelaide out of her spiraling thoughts, thank goodness. “Speaking of book club, how’s your planning?”
Regina had volunteered to host the next meeting. “I was giving it some thought. Since we’re skipping December and this is the first book of the New Year, it should be something good.”
Adelaide’s ears perked. Regina, doing research? About book club? She stood and went to the kitchen, and leaned on the doorframe. “Yeah?”
Regina pan-fried the veggies and added cooked rice. “I’ve been hearing about this great nonfiction.”
Adelaide leveled her with a look. “Regina Castro—nonfiction. Really?”
“Yes?” An eyebrow scrunched down.
“I…” Obviously everything was surprising her these days, “Never mind. Okay, I’m listening. This nonfiction.”
“Bossypants. Have you heard of it? It’s Tina Fey’s memoir.”
This was getting more and more interesting. “Of course I have.”
Adelaide read the woman’s mind. “Are you planning a road trip?”
“Yes! I found a travel agency that plans overnight trips to New York City. While being on an actual tour, we get to hit the highlights, maybe opt to tour NBC Studios. This could be a good way to get out of here without any of us truly taking the responsibility of driving there. There are tours in February, and that will give time for everyone to read the book during the holidays.”
“I love that idea.” Adelaide nodded.
“It makes me want to read the book, too.” Regina sprinkled salt and pepper, and added soy sauce to the fried rice, causing Adelaide to drool. “Though I have to admit, I’m being selfish. I’m not sure how hard travel is going to be with a baby. I’m considering this one of my last hurrahs. Soon I’ll be inundated with diapers and strollers and baby gear. Which I have to find room for.” She gestured at the growing mound of still-boxed baby gear in the living room situated around a lit but sparse Christmas tree.
“I’ll help you get organized once the room is painted,” Adelaide reassured. Admittedly Regina’s place still had the vibe of a college dorm. Adelaide could do a number with a modest budget. “Your kitchen, though. Your kitchen is always so clean and neat. You know where every pot and pan and Tupperware cover’s at. And you have every cool kitchen tool.”
“Only because Logan isn’t here to mess this place up. But kitchen stuff is fun because everything I make in here goes into my belly.” Regina created a well in the rice dish and cracked an egg into it. As it cooked, Regina walked past her and to the bedroom. “Wow. What a difference a day makes. I didn’t realize how much natural light was in here.”
“It’s going to be more beautiful when you have the bedding and the decor up, but that’s for another day.”
Noise from the open window summoned them to it, and looking down, there was Sophie with other adults supervising a gaggle of kids attempting to make a snowman.
“Playdate,” Adelaide said. “It’s why she couldn’t come over for lunch.”
At that moment, Sophie broke away from the crowd and went to her backpack. She burrowed, head bent into it, then rushed to a crying child.
“Uh-oh, someone’s hurt,” Regina said. “But, of course, Sophie’s ready.” She sighed. “One day I hope I can be as good a mom as her. She has it all together.” Regina sauntered back into the kitchen.
Adelaide was left staring at the group, at the adults in parental solidarity. And then at this room.
At least she had this room that she fixed up all on her own.
At least she had book club to tout.
These were things she could show six months from now.
At least.
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
Sophie
Sophie heard the mail truck before she saw it come up the crest of Bell Street, and she excused herself from her building playdate for a quick getaway. She high-kneed it through the snow, and by the time she got to the building mailbox to meet the truck, beads of sweat had covered the back of her neck.
“Good morning, Jimmy.”
“Morning.” Jimmy was their usual neighborhood postal worker, known for his colorful and decorative scarves. Today’s was holiday themed, with gold bells. It probably wasn’t regulation, but no one was going to tell on him; this man brought them letters from their family members downrange. As far as Sophie was concerned, he was Santa Claus incarnate.
He flipped through the stack of mail in his hand. “Here’s yours. And tell your girls I say thanks for the cookies. They were… well…”
“You don’t have to say a thing. They insisted on making them themselves.”
He beamed. “Then tell them they were the best I ever had.”
“You’re a sweet man. But don’t be surprised if you get more.” Sophie laughed.
“I look forward to it.”
Sophie walked away and looked down at the first letter. It was from The School. It was a legal-sized envelope, and thin, surely containing only one piece of paper.
Her heart dropped into her belly; she pressed her lips together to keep from crying. It had to be a rejection. Of course she didn’t get in, why did she even hope? She was never the model student—they must have seen that in her application.
She flipped through the other letters to catalog them, and by the time she made it to the backyard, she had gathered enough courage to open the envelope. Better to face the music. Patients did this all the time—they faced diagnoses despite their fear. This was not life and death.
Amber Hayes, one of her building neighbors, was at her side. Amber had become another good friend. She had a daughter a year older than Olivia and Carmela, which made for great playdates, and she was born in Freeport, Bahamas. With her paternal side of the family from Nassau, Sophie had locked onto this common thread.
Amber brushed at her scarf, which was caked with snow from playing with the kids. “What’s up?”
“I applied to grad school.”
“Wow!”
She lifted the envelope. “But I don’t think I got in.”
Amber frowned. “But you haven’t opened it.”
“They only send little envelopes if you don’t get in.”
Amber’s gaze bounced to the envelope, then to Sophie, and back. “If you don’t open it, I will.” She shook Sophie’s elbow. “C’mon.”
“Okay, okay.” After heaving a breath, Sophie slipped a finger under the flap. She bit against her cheek as she pulled out the letter.
“Read it out loud,” Amber prodded.
She unfolded the thin paper with dread. “‘Dear Ms. Walden, I’d like to take this opportunity to welcome you—’” She paused, looking up. “Holy shit… ‘into the Department of Nursing Masters of Education program!’ Oh my God!”
Amber screamed and clapped. She scooped snow and threw it up in the air. Soon, all the little girls milled around them and were also screaming.
“Do you mind watching the girls?” Sophie asked Amber. “I want to head over to Regina’s.”
“Absolutely! I’ll be right here.”
Sophie ran—er, she stomped, quickly—across the backyard snow, to the next building, then around the corner to the gate. She pressed the doorbell.
“Who is it?” Regina’s voice was airy.
“It’s me! I’ve got news.”
The door buzzed open, and Sophie clomped up to the second floor, and then to the third. She’d done this climb more than a dozen times the last couple of weeks. The neighborhood had been a ghost town since Thanksgiving, and they’d spent a good bit of time taking turns having dinner at each other’s places.
The door was already open when she got to the top step. As per usual, she kicked off her shoes, and for good measure she shrugged herself out of her coat and snow pants. Down to her yoga pants and sweatshirt, she entered, and Regina greeted her with a bowl of rice.
“Hey! That was fast!” Regina laughed.
“What’s going on?” Adelaide stepped out of the bedroom with paint-stained clothing. She wiped her hands on her jeans.
“Sit down.” Sophie gestured to the couch, which the two women took.
“This is good, right?” Adelaide asked.
“Yes… Let me think of how to say this.” She started to pace. Because what she was about to say was intimate. This was about goals, and dreams, and the future. Which she never talked about with anyone because… because these were things she kept close to her heart.
“Sophie, I swear,” Regina warned.
“Okay. I applied to school. To a master’s program.”
“You did? When?” Adelaide asked.
“Around Thanksgiving.”
“You didn’t tell us?” Adelaide shook her head. “Go on, I’m sorry to interrupt.”
“It wasn’t something I told anyone, really, just Jasper. I was feeling a little low, you remember. I fel
t like I had hit a dead end… anyway, I thought I would give it a chance and apply.” She waved the letter around. “I got in.”
Regina and Adelaide leaped to their feet and cheered; they hugged her in tandem.
“We need to celebrate,” Adelaide said.
“Later, yes! The girls are outside with Amber, so I can’t stay long.”
“Then let’s at least break into dessert. I made cookie dough the other night. I’ve been on a cooking spree. You can take some to the kids.” Regina popped into the kitchen and pressed the buttons of her oven, then dug into her refrigerator and took out the cookie dough.
“Okay, I can stay a few minutes.” Sophie migrated and sat at the kitchen table, with Adelaide next to her, remembering three months ago when they’d consoled Regina. “I feel like time is moving so quickly. It’s Christmas in a couple of weeks, and then soon—”
“Ahhh!” Regina said shaking her head. “I don’t even want to think about it. It’s so overwhelming. I was just telling Adelaide that I want to be like you when I grow up. You always seem to have it together.” She made quick work at dropping spoonfuls of dough onto the pan.
Sophie snorted. “Believe me, I don’t have it together.”
“You remind me a lot of my mama, actually,” Adelaide chimed in. “You always have a wise word. I don’t think I’ve ever seen you do wrong. You must have been an easy child to raise.”
“I was far from an easy child.” She leaned back into the wrought iron chair and watched Regina put the pan in the oven. “It’s why I wasn’t sure I’d get into grad school, because up until my…” Her voice choked.
“What’s wrong, Soph?” Adelaide asked.
“It’s just that I don’t really talk about it all the time.” Actually, Sophie didn’t talk about it at all. It was better, sometimes, to forget, to move on, rather than linger in the past. It had become a skill for her, in fact, as a nurse, to leave one patient behind and enter another patient’s room with a renewed attitude. But right now, with her friends, she felt safe enough to say. “I was a tough child. Headstrong.”