In a Book Club Far Away

by Tif Marcelo

  “Nuh-uh,” Regina said, in jest.

  “Believe me. I ran with the wrong crowd through high school. My parents—I can only imagine the headaches and the worry. Fast-forward to when I was a freshman in college. And I was out, partying as usual on a Friday night. Got drunk, all that. And got in at dawn to find my RA at my door. My mother had passed away.”

  Sophie looked up, and sure enough, her friends were both staring at her. A part of her warned that she’d said too much, that they would judge her and her terrible decision, but she didn’t see any of that in their expressions. Instead, she saw love in their eyes. She saw care.

  “So, that was the end of my bad ways.”

  “Oh, Soph, you weren’t bad,” Regina said.

  “I know.” She shrugged. “But since then, and the way things work in the Army, with our close quarters, I always mind my p’s and q’s. So, yes, I do try to do things right. I’m always trying to move forward. But it doesn’t mean I’m calm about it. I’m like a duck, all calm on top and paddling under the water.”

  “Well, you don’t have to paddle too hard around us,” Adelaide said.

  “Anyway. Sorry, that was deep. This was supposed to be a short announcement. Hopefully my kids are still okay out there.”

  “You know what?” Regina said, a grin growing on her face. “Let’s invite everyone up here. I don’t have a lot of chairs, but I have enough cookies.”

  “Really?” Sophie said, standing.

  “Yes! Like you said, it’s a celebration. Adelaide, wanna yell for them?”

  “That’s… that’s a lot of mess we’ll be bringing into the house,” Sophie objected, while following Adelaide to the open window.

  “Nonsense. Reggie’s right. Families celebrate. And we are Framily.”

  “Framily?”

  “Friends who are family. Chosen family.” And without another word, Adelaide yelled out the window. “Hey, y’all! Get yourselves up here. Apartment E! We got cookies!”

  Sophie’s face warmed. She had framily.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

  Adelaide

  February 2012

  “Happy Valentine’s to us. We’re here. We’re really here.” Adelaide stepped down the three steps from the double-decker tour bus to the pedestrian-filled sidewalk. Times Square was up ahead, with billboards and flashing signs trailing up to the blue sky. She tightened the thick woven scarf around her neck, ignoring the twenty-degree chill because hello! She was in the Big Apple. It was going to be perfect if she could help it.

  Regina was a genius for suggesting this adventure.

  Adelaide walked a few steps from the bus and turned around to watch the book clubbers spill from the narrow door. All fifteen were accounted for among the other patrons of this Hop- On, Hop-Off trip that would comprise about six hours of their day, before they headed back to the pickup spot, where a charter bus would take them all back upstate.

  She spotted her friends. Sophie was chatting away, and Regina was standing in the rear of the group. She had been late to the charter bus pickup and almost missed loading entirely, and when Adelaide had passed her while going to the bus restroom, she was sound asleep. Adelaide had been eager to chat, to update her on the itinerary. Since Regina had been too busy with work, and the second trimester had left her exhausted, Adelaide had been more than happy to step up to lead the day-of details.

  “Do you feel Tina Fey here?” she asked Regina now.

  “What I really feel is hungry.” Regina’s answered was curt. She sniffed the air, expression softening a bit. “I smell french fries, or fried something. Before we do anything can we eat?”

  “Of course! Our NBC tour is in an hour, so we definitely have time to pick up a quick snack. I looked up a sandwich place that’s just straight ahead.” Actually, Adelaide had researched everything, from the restaurants they would frequent and the sights they would see, with their pregnant host, their most high-maintenance participant, in mind.

  Adelaide led the group down Seventh Avenue. The book clubbers trailed her like little ducklings.

  Except their group split, distracted by another restaurant with wide-open doors and a doorman beckoning inside.

  “Wait a minute. You guys? That might be a sit-down place,” Adelaide said.

  “Oh dear, I think you’re losing them.” Sophie passed her, as with the rest of the group. A slew of other tourists mixed in between their bodies. “If you have another place in mind, you might want to yell it out now.”

  She found her itinerary. Multipage, stapled, and printed from her brand-new inkjet. She waved the papers up in the air. “People, come back!”

  At first, no one else turned around, so Adelaide yelled, “Millersville Book Club! Hello!”

  Finally, the group meandered Adelaide’s way. She breathed a sigh of relief, though pedestrian traffic ballooned where they stalled. Someone shoulder-checked her from behind. She gathered her bearings and said, “We’re going that way.”

  “Oh, why didn’t you say so?” a voice said. “No big deal.”

  But as the day progressed, everything became a big deal. It started with the group’s complaints at the NBC Studios tour, which couldn’t fit their entire book club without having to split up into three groups. There were rumblings at how it was too cold to be using public transportation. One of the ladies forgot her purse on a bench at Rockefeller Center, and they had to backtrack for that. It was Adelaide’s responsibility to know where the restrooms were at all times, apparently. And she was informed that there hadn’t been enough time allotted for the World Trade Center site, and that they all should demand a refund.

  The day that was supposed to be perfect had been reduced to a string of complaints and misguided suggestions.

  Dinner was the last of their activities before they boarded the bus for their late-night travel back to Millersville. Adelaide had chosen a pub that, while on paper sounded ideal, was the worst restaurant she could have picked. Three of the book clubbers had one too many drinks and were properly tipsy and cantankerous well before their food came. Add the clank of dishes and the roar of the crowd, and Adelaide’s nerves were on overload.

  And yet, she kept the smile on her face; she was going to fake it till she made it.

  “Hey, are you okay?” Sophie said.

  It made Adelaide jump. Her friend was sitting across from her. “Oh, ah, yeah, I’m good.”

  “Okay, it’s just that you had this look.”

  What look? Adelaide forced her smile wider apart; she realized book club loyalist Frank next to her had stopped his conversation to watch them. She scrambled for an answer. “No, I was just thinking, you know. About Bossypants.”

  Sophie pasted on a frown. “I wasn’t a fan. I don’t know why, but I look for struggle in my nonfiction because I want to learn. I didn’t have much to learn from her.”

  Kerry, from three seats down in their long table, nodded. “She mentioned her scar, though. I kind of wish she went into that.”

  Colleen unrolled her napkin and put it on her lap. “Her thoughts on improv as it applies to life were good. I liked the one where she encouraged the concept of saying ‘yes, and…’ I took it as encouragement to take an active role in change and society.”

  Everyone at the table nodded, including Adelaide. But the message hit her in the space in the middle of her breastbone. It brought back everything she had thought of when decorating Regina’s room. What had she contributed lately, except for a field trip half the book clubbers hated? What exactly was her purpose?

  At the other end of the table, Regina cackled. “I love how she describes her father, that she grew up with a healthy sense of fear of him. I totally related to that. Even if my mother’s barely five feet and I’m this age, I have never once talked back to her.” She placed a hand on her five-month bump. “And I wonder, too, how am I going to parent?”

  “Being a parent is a job where you never know where you stand,” said Weston, who’d moved into their neighborhood a month ago wi
th his wife. They were in the Air Force, and parents to one college-aged daughter. “One day you think you’re doing okay, and the next you feel like you suck at it.”

  Sophie cackled. “That is ten thousand times the truth.”

  Across the long side of the table, Abby, a new book clubber yelled, “I can’t hear you guys down here!”

  “What are you even talking about?” Next to her, another newbie, Carla, placed a hand behind her ear in emphasis.

  The table then recounted the discussion, and the level of noise ratcheted up to what Adelaide could only describe as five million decibels. Then, someone complained that their food was taking too long.

  Everyone was obviously tired and hungry. To help distract the clubbers, Adelaide flipped through the itinerary only to realize she’d forgotten to bring questions.

  “Adelaide,” Sophie said.

  She startled out of her thoughts. “Yeah?”

  “I’m going to the bathroom, wanna come with me?”

  “Sure.” She stood, eager for peace, and with what she hoped was some kind of an excuse, followed the back of Sophie’s colorful shirt.

  Finally, she made it to the bathroom. It was quaint but clean. There was a woman wiping down the sink, who first nodded at the both of them and then sat on her stool and looked back down at her book.

  “Here, Ad.” Sophie pushed a damp brown paper towel into her hand. It was cool to the touch, and Adelaide pressed it against her eyes, first the right, and then the left, as her breathing escalated to a chaotic pattern. “What’s going on?”

  Adelaide kept her eyes shut. She felt the cold bathroom tile against her back, a slight reprieve from her churning thoughts. “I’m just so mad.”

  “About what?”

  “It’s hard to explain.”

  The door flew open, and Regina appeared. She had a hand on her belly. “What’s going on?”

  “God, it’s nothing.” Adelaide half laughed.

  “Obviously, it is something.” Sophie voice was calm and nonjudgmental.

  “Ad.” Regina placed a hand on her shoulder. “What is it?”

  Adelaide heaved a breath. She knew it would feel better to let it out, but it felt so heavy, like a mountain to move. She leaned into it, if but a little. “I… couldn’t stand it anymore.”

  “Stand what?” Regina said.

  “All of it.” Adelaide dug into her heels. “The talk about kids. It’s getting to be too much. Not because I don’t like kids, but because I love them. I want them. I—” She looked up at her friends, and exhaled the truth. “I lost a baby at the beginning of the deployment. I have lost babies before.”

  “Oh, Adelaide. Sweetie.” Sophie’s expression softened.

  Regina’s eyes began to water. “I’m sorry.”

  “Not to say I’m not happy for you.” Adelaide scrambled to explain, realizing that she’d put Regina on the spot. “Because I’m so happy for you. I am, so much. I just wish sometimes that it was me.”

  Adelaide tore her eyes away from her friend’s face. There was no time for pity, there was no room for sadness in her life. She had all she had ever truly needed, and had no reason for complaint. She infused a lightness into her voice. “But I’m fine. Really I am. I just needed a break from all those people out there. I was just having a moment.”

  She pushed herself off the wall. Her tears threatened to bubble over, but her stubbornness, thank goodness, pulled her through. She made it to the sink, turned on the faucet, wet her hands, and patted her cheeks. It was only then that she took a good look at herself under the gloomy light casting a foreboding glow on her face. The bags under her eyes cast a purple hue. In her eyes were exhaustion, and something more. Something she was perfectly happy ignoring.

  So she took a deep breath, imagined oxygen flowing through her lungs. She tried her lips to see if they could still smile. They did. She spun around. “All right, I’m ready to go.”

  “Adelaide.” Sophie’s tone was a warning. “You don’t need to do that.”

  “Do what?”

  “Pretend,” Regina said.

  She shrugged. “It happens to one in four women. It’s just par for the course.”

  “Jasper and I lost a baby,” Sophie said. “And I was sad, for a long time. It’s okay to be sad. Though I’m not going to assume how you feel, or assume you’d want to tell me, pretending these feelings don’t exist won’t make them go away.”

  Adelaide crossed her arms and hugged herself. “I’m sorry, Soph.”

  “Me, too, but this is not about me. This is about you.”

  “And this is about us,” Regina added. “Because telling me about what happened won’t lessen my joy. I care about you. I want to be there for you, too. Like how you showed up at my apartment that first week, and when you were there for me when I took my pregnancy test? I’m here for you.”

  Adelaide lowered her head. “I was not raised to be a sob story, to have a sob story, or to tell it.”

  Sophie laughed. “You are far from a sob story. Are you kidding me? Look how you brought us together, how you help people every day.” She lowered her voice. “But even if you did become a sob story, I’m not going anywhere.”

  “I’m here, too, Ad. To support you every step of the way, even if you become really, really pathetic.” Regina pressed her lips into a grin.

  “The way you two turn a conversation. You don’t give me a chance to stay sad. You guys are the epitome of Bossypants.”

  “Har har.” Sophie smiled. “The book was eh. Funny, yes. Insightful? The jury’s out on that. Although”—she looked up at the ceiling—“she talked about what makes a good boss, and she said it was about hiring people and getting out of the way. That’s what we do for one another. We look out for one another and see in what way we can or can’t help, and where. So, when you see me and Regina, know that we can help. And then get out of your own way so we can work our magic.”

  Regina took Adelaide’s hand, and Sophie’s with the other. “Exactly. Remember. The SOS applies to you, too.”

  PART FIVE

  But going forward required a singular leap of faith—and he was a man of little faith, particularly when it came to himself.

  —His at Night by Sherry Thomas

  CHAPTER THIRTY

  Sophie

  Present Day, Monday

  By Monday morning, Sophie waved the white flag that she needed a hospital shift change. Her back hurt from the visitor pullout chair, and her lungs craved fresh air. After Adelaide’s admission that she no longer wanted another child, Sophie had begun to feel claustrophobic. Because while she had agreed with Adelaide that a person should be able to change their mind at any time, it was also an entirely different issue to actually move forward with it. Change was harder when it involved other people. Change required knowing exactly what outcome one wanted, didn’t it?

  Sophie had scheduled the Genevieve handoff at 9:00 a.m. so mother and daughter could share a few moments together, and Regina, fresh and energetic, would take the hospital shift until the next morning. But when the two arrived, Adelaide was asleep, so they migrated to the hospital cafeteria instead.

  Sophie’s phone beeped a notification while in the hallway, a reminder of her flight back home. It was scheduled for the next day.

  She couldn’t leave, could she? Neither she nor Adelaide had planned for this extra surgery, and while Regina was staying the rest of the week, Regina wasn’t tuned in to Adelaide’s needs. Their roles had divvied up naturally, and Sophie would daresay it was working, though things were still slightly awkward between them.

  But Sophie’s biggest obstacle was not Regina,

  While at the elevators, Sophie went to her messages app and clicked on Jasper’s last text.

  Hey, I’m not coming home tomorrow.

  Adelaide still needs me.

  Little dots showed that he was responding.

  Seriously?

  Seriously.

  I’m changing my flight to Sunday.

 
; “Everything okay?” Regina asked minutes later while buckling Genevieve into a child’s seat. “You look upset.”

  “It’s nothing.”

  Regina’s eyes gazed downward at Sophie’s phone, which flashed with text notifications. “Sure?”

  “Yeah. You know Jasper… he doesn’t know how to insert a line in his texts. He literally sends every sentence as a separate text, and my phone blows up unnecessarily.” She smiled with effort. While every part of her wanted to divulge her issues with Jasper and what Adelaide had revealed—because she knew it would release some of this pressure from her chest—she reminded herself that she and Regina were not on solid footing.

  Regina shrugged. “Okay. But look, I have something to tell you.” She sat down, and from her backpack she pulled two brown bags: one for Genevieve and another for Sophie.

  “For me?” Sophie was gobsmacked at the gesture. “Thank you.”

  Regina waved it away. “It’s nothing. Just some cinnamon rolls. But anyway, listen up. I ordered a c-a-k-e.”

  “A c-a-k-e for what?” Sophie dug into the bag.

  “For who else?” She covered Genevieve’s ears. The little girl stared up at her and smiled a toothy grin, all the while clutching her sippy cup with one hand and crackers with another. “For her party,” she whispered.

  “What party?”

  “The party I’m planning. For her birthday.” She lowered her hands. “This weekend. First of all, are you going to be here? I’m planning it for Saturday, since I leave on Monday. Get this, I even elicited Missy to help.”

  “Who’s Missy?” Sophie unwrapped the warm cinnamon roll from the plastic wrap. “Wow, this looks amazing.”

  “Remember? One of Adelaide’s contacts in her binder? Anyway, she said she would handle the invites on her end and can almost guarantee that mommies in their circle could be flexible with the timeline. I was thinking that maybe we should have everyone come over while Adelaide’s out for her follow-up appointment. We’ll soon find out what time that will be, right?”