... and Baby Makes Two (16 page)

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Authors: Judy Sheehan

BOOK: ... and Baby Makes Two
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Peter, however, was bursting with energy and conversation. He seemed delighted to have a dinner partner. No, he seemed delighted to have
Jane
for a dinner partner.

“Did I tell you I ran into Chris Aiello? He was the guy who made us all shave our heads when we lost that game in high school. Anyway, he's totally bald now, so you get some kind of revenge there, I guess.”

“I guess.”

Then Peter did a dead-on impersonation of their high school principal, which left Jane laughing harder than she wanted to.

“Announthment: Any theniorth who thkip clath will be thuthpended tho thwiftly it will make their headth thpin!”

When Jane caught her breath, she begged him to impersonate
the paranoid biology teacher who could speak without moving his lips.

“It's time to dissect the frog. Hey. You. Put down the knife. Why do you smell like formaldehyde? Hey. Hey. Hey. Get out of my class!”

“Oh, Peter. I wish I'd had you in my class. It would have been a lot more fun.”

They ordered too much food and ate it all. Jane wondered if she should tell Peter about her adoption plans. Instead she asked about his parents.

“I got them into this City Seniors Social Club—can you imagine our dear old principal joining that? Anyway, I didn't think they'd go for it. But they like it.”

“What do they do?” Jane asked.

“Oh, they go to museums, shows, restaurants, all sorts of things. It's been great to see them make new friends and get out more. They love their house, but isn't it good to visit the city sometimes? The whole reason I moved back here was because I was worried about them, but now I'm not so worried. Hey, maybe your dad would join it. He might like it.”

Not likely. Jane knew that Howard shared Betty's dislike of all things city. He was also not ready for a change. Not yet.

“It's been kind of hard to visit with Dad. My brothers and their kids are there. I don't feel all that welcome. Family drama. It's kind of complicated, and very stupid.”

“At least he has his grandchildren around. My folks really want grandchildren. They don't say anything, but they don't have to. It's the one way—the only way—that I know I've disappointed them.”

This was as close as Peter would come to mentioning his marriage that evening. Jane had to let it go by. If she started criticizing his marriage, they couldn't be dinner buddies. And suddenly she knew that she wanted to see him again and again and again.

…

The larger group of Chinamoms met for dinner every Monday night, but Jane, Karen, and Teresa remained a subset of the group. The three went to a gallery opening where Teresa represented the artist. The artwork included a lot of disturbing pictures of clowns. Karen was very sensitive to the evil within the clowns and hit the free Chardonnay a little harder than she should have. Jane and Teresa escorted her to a restaurant.

“It doesn't seem real to me yet. Does it seem real to you?” Karen asked. That would have been a confusing question for anyone else, but Jane and Teresa knew what she meant.

“My doctor didn't approve,” Jane revealed. When she had her exam for the medical report, he scowled when she told him what this was all for.

“I told my ex.” Teresa knew she was dropping a bombshell.

“And?”

“Tell us!”

“What did he say?”

“He got mad. He got really mad. Like I had trumped him or something. Like I had made him useless. And then he got ugly. He said something so mean—”

She probably should not have continued.

“He said that when he had his midlife crisis, he just bought a car. Chinese babies might be a trendy accessory, but I'd send her back within a year.”

That line hurt them all. Jane wondered if Teresa repeated it just to unload some of it. Here. Now everyone could have a portion of this hurt.

“Do we know why we're doing this?” Jane ventured.

“He said that a mother can't be the disciplinarian for a kid the way a dad is. So my kid is destined to be spoiled rotten.”

“Not mine,” said Karen. “Nobody can be spoiled on my salary.”

“He forgets.” Teresa sounded mad. “My dad had a gun collection. But my mother was the one I was afraid of. She was tough as
nails. And faster than a speeding bullet. I never crossed her. I still don't.” Teresa sat up straighter when she talked about her mother.

“My mother had lots of issues back then,” said Karen, “and now she has a lot of different issues. But now she gets to be all Sweet Grandma, spoiling the kids. She's so excited about having another grandchild.”

“Mine too,” said Teresa. “But I'm still ticked off at my ex. I mean, he sees me working there day in and day out. In fact, I showed up for work the day after he left me—just to prove a point.”

“Wow,” said Karen.

“Yes, wow. You're right, wow. Big Huge Wow. I'm one of the three most disciplined people he knows, and he doesn't think I can do this?”

“But how can you guys keep working together?” Jane asked.

“We have to. We have a business. Part of me thinks that he's waiting for me to get terribly upset and walk out. I know I'm waiting for
him
to get terribly upset and walk out. He wasn't happy about me planning a Family Leave, I promise you that.”

“I only get three weeks leave, then I'll have to go back to work,” Karen mourned.

“Do we know why we're doing this?” Jane repeated.

“I can't believe I almost forgot this. I got you guys a little something,” Karen said as she pulled a pair of colorful paperbacks from her large canvas sack. She had gotten all three of them a book entitled,
Fun Shui: The Art of Joyous Baby Rooms.

“I'll have my decorator refer to this when he starts work on the baby's room,” Teresa said without a hint of sarcasm.

Karen lived in a one-bedroom apartment that Realtors called “cozy” She planned to share her room and her bed with the baby. She cited several parenting experts on co-sleeping.

“It accelerates the bonding process. And there's something really deep about that vulnerability, you know? You're asleep. She's asleep. You know?”

Teresa wanted nothing to do with it. “My daughter will get her own bed, and I've already picked out the Calvin Klein crib sheets. She'll be happy. And she'll be in her own room. Trust me.”

Teresa was about to move into a large two-bedroom apartment.

“Don't move yet,” Karen advised. “Not until you get your referral. It's bad luck. And I hope you haven't chosen a name for her yet.”

“My dear, I've already closed. Paying the mortgage on a place I'm not living in is even worse luck. I'm moving. It's done. It's a good location, and we're already waitlisted at two private nursery schools. She won't need luck. She'll have me.”

“Do we know why we're doing this?” Jane tried one more time.

Karen and Teresa looked at Jane as if she were an alien. Karen was speechless, but Teresa sighed.

“Jane, Jane, Jane, Jane, Jane, Jane, Jane. Try to keep up.”

To: [email protected]
From: [email protected]
Subject: Hungry!

J,

Can we eat early tonight? You know the big meeting I had this morning? Well, it ran right through lunch. Just ended. So, not only do you win the bet (again), but I'm dangerously hungry. Feel like going to Chinatown?
The gym says they're getting a machine that stretches you. Doesn't that sound like a medieval torture device?

P
To:
From: [email protected]
Subject: I-
171
H!

Ladies,

It came in the mail last night! I have cleared my calendar. Ill visit the downtown offices to get these notarized, certified, authenticated and off to China. My dossier is now complete.

Teresa

To:
From: karen
51
@ournet.com
Subject: Re: I-
171
H!

Me too! Call me. We can go to the offices together. Oh my God! My dossier is done!

K

They were done. Jane was still waiting. Burning. Was it possible that Karen and Teresa understood something about this adoption process that Jane didn't, and somehow the FBI knew that and they were withholding her I-
171
H until Jane became enlightened?

The three friends attended an FCC event to celebrate the Autumn Moon Festival. Legend has it that a woman drank a magic potion in order to escape her abusive husband. She landed on the moon. There may or may not be a rabbit up there with her. The Autumn Moon was the one time of year that she was visible to all of us on earth. And until they made her story into a Lifetime Movie, she was happy and safe. Meanwhile, the rest of us eat gooey, sweet mooncakes in her honor.

Megan came bursting into the room. She'd confirmed her ex-punk look by adding magenta highlights to her short hair. She looked bright.

“I got my referral! Look! There she is! There's my girl!”

She held up a tiny picture of a tiny baby bundled in a huge, padded snowsuit. Her cheeks were quite red. She looked dazed. There was an aggressive painting of pandas and bunnies behind her.

Megan was a celebrity. She told the story of Barbara's phone call, which started with “Hi, Mommy.” This evoked joyful noises from her audience. And now, post-punk Megan was in a mad dash to buy baby things. She clutched the photo and declined to eat any moon-cakes.

“All this time I've been waiting, and I didn't buy one pack of diapers!”

She expected to travel in a few weeks. She glowed. She floated through the room. She was all joy.

Karen and Teresa got to tell people that they had a Dossier to China/DTC date. Jane got to say that her dossier was thisclose to being done. Karen picked up on Jane's jealousy almost immediately.

“You know, Jane. In China, they say that there's a red thread connecting you with the people you love. And it doesn't matter how much the thread is pulled or stretched, it will never break”

Teresa made an attempt. “If I may, I think that Karen is saying that you and your child will be together. You will. It's done.”

Jane liked both versions of consolation. But managed a complaint or two.

“If I don't get my dossier to China this month, I won't travel with you two.”

Karen didn't see the need to worry, since it was only September
20
.

“But I don't know when I'll get it. And yeah, I'll be fine, no matter when it gets here. I'll get to learn from your experiences and yay for me. But still, I worry that this delay is some kind of sign that I'm not supposed to do this. Maybe the universe or the FBI is trying to tell me that I'm not supposed to be a mother. And it sounds so much stupider out loud. Oh, God.”

Teresa didn't believe in signs. Karen believed that we all made our own signs.

“And you give off tons of Good Mother signs.”

“Like what?” Jane really wanted to know, but there was no time for an answer.

“Cruella De Vii!”
a chirpy voice shouted. It was Rachel. She darted through the restaurant and threw herself into Jane's arms. Once again, Jane missed out on the latest gossip from the Internet, useful networking, and other tips for adoptive parents. Instead she played her new game with Rachel, called Let's Change All the Words to the Songs.

…

A week later, Jane received her form. It came in a boring brown envelope, with no ceremony. In fact, she had to study it to figure out that she was holding the Object of Desire. The magic word, I-
171
H, was so tiny, tucked away in a little corner of the form. As if to say, “Oh, and by the way, you are approved to adopt an orphan. Whatever.”

Jane raced around the judicial offices of Manhattan, then dropped off the small mountain of paper at the Chinese Consulate for authentication. It hurt to leave something so hard-won behind. In an effort to catch up with her friends, she took more time off from work so that she could hand deliver the completed dossier to Dr.—Barbara.

Barbara's apartment was a warm, messy sanctuary. Rachel was sprawled on the floor, finishing her homework about opposites.

“This is baby stuff,” Rachel complained. “I know this already. Hot-cold, up-down. I mean, come on! Hey wanna sing the Captain Hook song with me?”

“Finish your homework, Rachel, then you can have a concert. I'm going to look through Jane's dossier here in the kitchen.”

They drank tea and looked through it all. Jane feared that she'd have to throw herself in front of a train if there was a problem with this dossier. But it was fine. Her dossier would go to China tomorrow. Tomorrow. It would arrive at the China Center of Adoption Affairs
no later than September
30
. She had squeezed into the month after all.

Jane sprang for pizza so that she and Rachel could complete their Disney concert. Rachel had a magnetic mind, pulling in dialogue, choreography, and facial tics for the songs and characters she liked. She corrected Jane a lot. A whole lot. She knew her Disney stuff.

It was getting late. Rachel pitched a minor fit when Jane moved toward her coat and the door. Jane wasn't just flattered; she was having too much fun to leave. She stuck around for bath time. She read to Rachel at bedtime and kissed her good night. Jane floated out of the room as Barbara stepped in and had a quiet snuggle with her daughter. She could hear them singing a lullaby together and chatting quietly about the day. After a while, Barbara emerged from her daughter's bedroom.

“The nighttime routine is getting more and more complicated. If I do something one night, I'll have to do it for the next six years! This is what it's like every night. You'll see.”

Jane's heart was bursting. Did Barbara have any idea how exquisite this evening was? And she got this every night? Night after night? Did she know that she was rich beyond measure? Okay maybe she did. So Jane didn't say anything about that.

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