On Grace (15 page)

“Yeah, that’s true,” and she smiles as I head downstairs.

When I finish straightening up a bit, she tells me that she had the ability to be very clinical about her first few miscarriages, that she digested the loss from the perspective of a doctor. But, this time, she’s coming at it more from the perspective of a mother-in-waiting, a woman desperate for a child.

“I’ve never before regretted dedicating myself to my career in my twenties and thirties,” Cameron says, as she sits up in bed and wraps her arms around her bent knees. “I always thought women who left the workforce in their prime to go have babies were selling out. Sorry, not you, Grace.” She looks at me to see if I’m offended. I’m not. She continues, “I love working. I love what I do. But now I think the joke’s on me, and I was the one who did it the wrong way. Because now I’m old, my eggs are old, and the only kids I’ve got to show for myself all call me Dr. Stevens. I just want the type that call me Mom.” She takes a deep breath, and I see her eyes watering up.

“Oh, Cam. I don’t even know what to say. I’m so sorry,” I say, sitting on the edge of the bed next to her.

“Thanks, Grace. I’m glad you’re here,” she gives me a smile, and I know, because I know her, that she wants me to change the subject so she doesn’t start crying again.

“So, you’ll never guess who’s been emailing me,” I say mysteriously, obeying her nonverbal request.

“That creepy stay-at-home dad from James’s baby swim class?”

“No, thank God.” I pause for emphasis. “Jake Doyle,” I say, as a grin inadvertently creeps over my face.

“Rob Lowe Jake Doyle?” Cameron asks.

“The only,” I say.

“Why are you blushing, Grace?”

“I’m not blushing. I’m just hot,” I say, as I open the windows a little more. I tell her about Scotty’s engagement, my Facebook chat with Jake, and his invitation to go to L.A. this weekend.

“Wow, Grace, is this all on the up-and-up or does Rob Lowe Jake Doyle have some other motive here?”

“He’s just being himself. I think. I don’t know. It is a little weird, but it never hurt a girl to be flirted with a little. Especially after she’s been rejected by her husband.” I sit in the white leather Barcelona chair across from Cameron’s bed.

“Just don’t be one of those flirty Facebook girls. Look what happened to Elizabeth Bonder,” Cameron says, pointing at me and shooting me a warning look.

“I know. I’m not going there,” I say convincingly. “I’m so far from there. You don’t have to worry about me.”

“What
is
going on with Darren?”

I tell her about our date, about all my conflicting emotions, about my crash course in Infidelity 101.

“I’m just going through the motions of marriage,” I say. “I don’t think I have any other choice right now. I feel like I’m on the guardrail of a mountain road. If I go one way, I fall down a steep, rocky cliff. If I go the other, I find myself on a really windy road with obstacles around every bend. But how long can I walk on this narrow guardrail?”

“Nice analogy, English major. I get it. I think you just have to try to keep your balance and stay on that guardrail as long as you can until the road clears up a little and you come to a straightaway.”

“Nice continuation of the analogy, organic chemistry major,” I say, laughing. “I think that’s exactly what I’m going to have to do.”

That afternoon, Darren calls me between his meetings.

“How’s it going?” he asks.

“Fine,” I say pleasantly. “I just spent the morning with Cameron. I feel so badly for her. She’s kind of a mess.”

“That sucks,” he says. “I think maybe I’ll send her flowers.”

“You’re becoming a regular florist!” I say, a bit sarcastically.

He lets it go. “Hey, what’s on the schedule this weekend?”

“I don’t think much,” I say, opening my calendar on my laptop. “James has a birthday party on Saturday morning. The boys both have soccer practice on Saturday afternoon. We were supposed to have plans with Cam and Jack on Saturday night, but Cameron just told me she’s going to Maine so we have nothing Saturday night. And then just another birthday party for James on Sunday.”

“Okay.” Pause. “So what do you think of me taking the boys to the Yankees game Saturday night?” Darren asks cautiously. I think he feels he has to walk on eggshells with me. “One of the lawyers we work with just offered me three tickets. I asked him for four, but he said he can only get three.”

“That sounds great, actually. The boys will love it. There’s a new Rachel McAdams movie I want to see anyway. I’ll be fine.” I will.

“Cool, thanks Grace. I think the boys will be really excited.”

“You behaving yourself out there on that business trip of yours?” I can’t help asking. I don’t want to be that kind of woman, but I guess I am.

Darren pauses. “Yes.”

“Good,” I say. I am mad at myself for acting like this, but I’m even madder at him for putting me in the position that would lead me to have to act like this.

“I guess this is what we’re gonna have to discuss every time I travel,” he says contritely.

“I’ve been reading some books, and they all say that the hardest part of this whole thing is regaining trust. Deep inside I do trust you, Darren. But I trusted you before this happened and look where that got me. I just don’t know how to not wonder and not worry.”

“I know. It just sucks. Is there some way I can reassure you?”

“Can you pinch me and tell me this was just a bad dream?” I ask softly.

“Wish I could,” Darren says. “I love you, Grace.”

“I know,” I say, unable to return the sentiment.

“Any word on the job?” he asks, sounding relieved to change the subject.

“No. She said Thursday. I’m trying to distract myself from thinking about it. What happens if she offers it to me and says I have to work full time those three days?”

“Well, then, we’ll just figure something out. The boys will be fine with a babysitter for a few hours. You have to do what’s right for you.”

“I know. Thanks.”

“No problem. Okay, gotta run. I’ll be home around 6:30 tomorrow night. Wait for dinner for me?”

“Sure.”

“Thanks. I’ll call you guys tonight.”

We hang up, and I type “Darren and boys Yankees” in my calendar for Saturday night. Then I go onto Fandango and check what time the movie I want to see is playing in Port Chester, and then it hits me.
Cameron is going to Maine. Darren and the boys are going to soccer and Yankee Stadium. Could Grace go to L.A.?
I sit back in my chair and work out the details in my mind. Then I go onto Travelocity and see how much a last-minute flight will run me. No bargain, but not too bad. Maybe this little trip is exactly what I need. I call my mom.

“Hey, Mom,” I say, trying to make out the sounds in the background. “Where are you?”

“I’m getting my hair colored,” she says loudly into the phone. I can just picture all the other ladies with foils in their hair turning to see why Nina Roseman is shouting.

“Are you around this weekend?” I ask.

“I think so, why?”

“Well, Kiki and Arden are throwing a small engagement dinner for Scotty Saturday night with just our old group, and they invited me, and I thought maybe I would come. Darren is busy with the boys all weekend with soccer and going to the Yankees game, so it kinda works out.”

“Oh, Gracie!” she shouts. “That will be fabulous! Wait till I tell Eva. She told me she invited you out here, and I thought that was a fabulous idea. I will clear my calendar and be yours all weekend.”

“Thanks, Mom,” I say. “I have to finalize some things so it’s not a hundred percent yet, but stand by. I’ll let you know by the end of the day.”

“How are things with Darren?” She lowers her voice a little, and I’m grateful that the entire salon won’t know my business.

“We’re working on things. No major decisions.”

“Good. We’ll talk all about it this weekend. Just remember what I said the other day. There is no reason to do anything crazy like divorce or any of that nonsense,” she says.

“Okay, Mom. I’ll call you later.”

After we hang up, I call Kiki.

“Hey, Kiks,” I say excitedly. Kiki and Arden were my two best friends in high school. We get in touch every few months, but whenever I talk to either of them, it feels like no time has gone by, the sign of a true old friend.

“Hey, girl!” she says. “
¿Cómo está?
”

“I’m great! So, I hear there’s a little engagement dinner for Scotty on Saturday night.”

“Yes! You better be coming. I saw Jake at the Brentwood Country Mart, and he said he had been emailing you so I told him to invite you.” I know right now, Kiki is twisting her long black curls around her right index finger.

“So what do you guys have planned?”

“Not entirely sure. Arden is in charge of making the reservation. But that’s no surprise. I think she was afraid of leaving it to me. Ha! She should be,” she laughs. “But it will be so much fun, and you have to come. Say yes. Say yes. Say yes.”

“Ninety-nine percent yes,” I say.

“Yay!” Kiki shouts.

“I just have to finalize a few things, but I think I’m gonna make it happen. I’ll email you and Arden later to let you know for sure. I hope it works out, though. It will be so great to hang out.”

“Okay, I’ll tell Arden to add two more to the reservation just in case.”

“Just one. Darren is staying home with the boys. They have soccer, and birthday parties, and all that stuff.”

“Even better. Not that I wouldn’t love to see Darren. It’s just that Arden and I decided not to bring Andy and Marco. We thought it would be more fun to just be the old crew again. Except for Abigail, of course, who seems stuck up when you first meet her with that fancy accent, but you will love her.”

Kiki and I met in tenth grade. We were in the same homeroom. Rodriguez and Roseman. Kiki walked into that classroom on the first day of school like she was Naomi Campbell on a catwalk. Without the snarl. Our school started in ninth grade, and she was new, but she acted like she’d been friends with all our fellow Rs since she was in diapers. Candelaria Luisa Alejandra Rodriguez (story goes that when she was born her older brothers wanted a kitten instead of a baby sister so they dubbed her KitKit which morphed into KiKi and stuck) had recently moved to Encino from East L.A. I found out later that her dad, Alberto Rodriguez, had just been named Entrepreneur of the Year by
Los Angeles
magazine. He had immigrated to L.A. from Mexico and started his career drying cars at a car wash in Hollywood. After years of working hard and moving up the ranks at a McDonald’s in Westwood, he went out on his own and founded Rock O Taco, a popular rock-and-roll-themed chain of Mexican fast food. Alberto Rodriguez had just proudly moved his family out of their humble beginnings into a fancy house in the Encino hills with shiny marble floors in the foyer and a custom mosaic in the shape of a guitar on the bottom of the pool out back.

When I saw Kiki later that first day in my honors Spanish class, she sat down next to me and asked if I wanted to hang out after school. I had plans with Arden (who had been my best friend since fifth grade) to go to Du-par’s, a hangout on Ventura Boulevard, so I invited Kiki along. The three of us bonded over Du-par’s famous pancakes with boysenberry syrup and were inseparable from then on. Kiki made us laugh so hard that first afternoon with her hilarious and spot-on impersonations of all the kids she had met that day. And she’s been entertaining us with her crazy antics and crazier outfits ever since. Kiki and I come from very different upbringings—she and Arden even more so—but that never seemed to matter. There were even times when I felt closer to Kiki’s mother, Luisa, than to my own. Luisa was just so humble, so warm, so maternal. She always made me feel safe, especially after Danielle died.

Arden, on the other hand, is basically Hollywood royalty. Her dad is Dean Miller Standish, the brilliant director who revolutionized the way special effects and technology were used in movies. He’s won five Best Director Oscars, more than any other director ever. Arden grew up around movie sets and has had dinner with everyone from Ryan O’Neal to Ryan Gosling, from Anne Bancroft to Anne Hathaway. But she was not affected the way you’d expect her to be. That was her normal. And her parents gave her no reason to believe she didn’t have to behave like a typical high school kid. So she did.

I email Darren.

Thinking of going to L.A. this weekend. I’d leave Friday morning after the boys go to school and come back Sunday night. Kiki, Arden, et al. throwing an engagement party for Scotty. And my mom and sister have been trying to get me out there anyway. I’ll arrange playdates for the boys Friday after school. What do you think?

His response comes right away.

Sounds great. Go for it. We’ll miss you, but it’s probably a good idea for you to have time on your own to think.

I feel like I’ve just gotten away with something huge, like winning the lottery off a ticket I found on the street. And I wonder if having “time to think,” if that’s what he wants to call it, is going to save my marriage or result in the complete opposite.

I spend the rest of the week making the final arrangements for my trip (car service to and from JFK, aisle seat, latest Emily Giffin novel, stocked fridge for Darren and the boys); deciding on my outfit for Saturday night (dark jeans, sexy black halter top, black heels); engaging in somewhat-flirty-but-not-inappropriate email conversations with Jake; and anticipating Nicole Winters’s phone call, which I hope will come early on Thursday, rather than late. I can’t wait any longer. I am surprised by how completely unprepared I am when the call actually comes, considering how much time I’ve spent thinking about all the different ways it could go. I have just returned from putting the boys on the bus Thursday morning and evading some question from Lorna about the neighborhood Halloween potluck party when I hear the phone ring. I feel my stomach do a swan dive when the caller ID reads “WELLINWESTCH.”

“This is Grace,” I say, knowing it’s Nicole and trying to sound professional. My mom always says to channel who it is you want to become. And I really want to become (again) someone who sits in a cubicle and answers her phone by announcing her name.