She, Myself & I (21 page)

“Pardon?”

“Um. There’s a juice bar over there,” I said, pointing weakly. “I was wondering if you were, um . . . thirsty.”

“As much as I would love to, I’m afraid I have to get back to work. I’m the junior doctor, so I’ve been delegated to cover the hospital rounds this weekend. Perhaps another time?” he asked.

“Oh. Sure. Yeah. Whatever,” I said, continuing to smile widely while I died inside.

For some unearthly reason, I had basically just asked the man out on a date (sure, it was just a trip to the juice bar, but come on, my motives must have been transparent). And he had shot me down. What was I doing? First of all, I was married, although I comforted myself with the knowledge that no one could possibly consider having a juice at the health club with your baby’s pediatrician to be an infidelity. Second, I had a baby who was his patient. Third, my body was still jiggling with so much postpartum fat that when I sat down, my belly rested on my thighs. Fourth, I was losing my looks. Obviously. And fifth . . . what else did I have going for me? I didn’t have a career or anything that would make me remotely interesting. I was just another woman on the wrong side of thirty, with a tired face and an expanding body, and nothing to talk about other than the merits of the latest Baby Einstein video.

“Are you going to be here next Saturday? I usually get here around noon, after the morning rounds, and then work out for an hour. We could catch up with one another then,” he said.

The clouds parted, the sun beamed down on me, and Madonna’s “Like a Virgin” began to play on the soundtrack of my mind. No, wait, “Like a Virgin” was actually playing on the club’s sound system.

“Yeah, I’ll probably be here. I’ll look out for you,” I said giddily.

I sashayed away, in what I hoped was a flirtatious, sexy way . . . until I caught sight of myself in the mirror and saw the pasty paleness of my skin and that my hair was frizzing up from my head. Not a pretty picture. Ugh.

“So how’s the doctor?” Mickey said, suddenly appearing beside me, radiating with disapproval.

“Why are you looking at me like that?”

“You know why.”

“No, I don’t. I didn’t know it was a crime to talk to your child’s pediatrician,” I retorted.

“You weren’t just talking, you were flirting.”

“I was not.”

“What do you call this?” Mickey flipped her hair back over her shoulder and bared her teeth in a sharklike smile. “Ooo, Doctor, can you examine me?” she purred, cocking her hip and resting a hand on it.

“Stop it,” I hissed. “What if he hears you?”

“He’s not here. I just saw him leave,” she said.

“Thank God. And I didn’t do that. We were talking about medical stuff—whether it was safe to leave Ben in the nursery. I’m worried that he’s going to catch tuberculosis from all of the germs floating around down there.”

“Mm-hmm.”

“Just forget it. Let’s just finish working out,” I said.

“Okay. But promise me you won’t do anything stupid,” Mickey said.

“Mick, you’re completely overreacting.”

“Just promise.”

“Fine. I promise I won’t do anything stupid,” I said.

Just to be contrary, I crossed my fingers behind my back as I said it.

Chapter Twenty-three

“Can you talk?” Paige asked when I answered the phone.

I considered this. I was lying in the bathtub, soaking in the hottest water I could stand, and surrounded by mounds of verbena-scented bubbles. It was the first moment of peace I’d had all day. Ben’s first tooth was coming in—months ahead of schedule—and he’d been a grouch. He wasn’t coordinated enough to hold a teething ring, so all I could do was dope him with baby medicine and rub his sore gums, and even that didn’t keep him from sobbing pitifully. When Aidan got home from work, he gave me a kiss and took over the baby duty, and I’d escaped to the bathtub with a glass of cold chardonnay.

“Mickey said you’re having a fling with Ben’s doctor,” Paige said.

“That’s a vicious lie!” I exclaimed. “I ran into him at the gym, and said hello, and she completely overreacted.”

“Don’t forget, Mick’s sensitive when it comes to that sort of thing. First Mom and Dad divorced, and then Scott and I broke up,” Paige said.

“Well, Aidan has been annoying the crap out of me lately, but it’s nothing serious. All couples go through this after they have babies,” I said, feeling like an authority on the subject after my talk with Cora. And, of course, omitting the part where I’d been engaging in my favorite fantasy of Dr. Prasad kissing me on the neck with his fabulous, full lips right when Paige called.

“Okay, good. But anyway, that’s not the reason I called.”

“What’s up?”

“It’s Zack. He’s getting a little . . . weird on me, and I need a second opinion,” she said.

“How is he being weird?”

“I don’t know exactly. Everything’s been fine. Better than fine, it’s been wonderful. But lately, he’s just been so . . . I don’t know. I can’t explain. It’s nothing that he’s done, really, I’m just getting the feeling that he’s getting serious,” Paige said.

“That’s normal. It’s been, what, five months? And you’re not seeing anyone else,” I said.

“I think he wants to move in together,” Paige said.

“Why do you think that?”

“Because he suggested it over breakfast this morning.”

“Would that be a problem? Isn’t he always staying over at your place anyway? It seems like he’s there whenever I call,” I said.

“It’s more complicated than that. Where would we live? Sure, he could stay here, but he’s building that house out by Lake Travis. Would he want me to give up my apartment and move in with him? I
love
my apartment,” Paige said.

“How do you feel about Zack?”

“I . . . love him.”

“More or less than the apartment?”

“Ha-ha. I just don’t know if I’m ready to take that kind of step right now. Things are going so well, why not just leave it the way it is?”

“Because that’s what people do. They take the next step. Get married, have kids, lose all interest in one another, bicker, grow apart, and then retire to Boca. It’s the normal progression of things.”

“Or you get married, find out your husband is gay, and end up going through a gut-wrenching divorce,” Paige said.

“Zack isn’t gay,” I pointed out.

“I know. But something else could happen that would ruin everything. The way we are right now feels good. And safe. Taking the next step, any step, just seems like I’m risking a lot for nothing.”

I thought of how it felt when Aidan took me into his arms, rubbing his cheek against my wavy hair. And then I thought of Ben, and how after he finished nursing, he’d stretch his neck out like a turtle and then snuggle up into a round baby ball. And how even on the days when my shoulders were stiff with tension and the thought of facing one more overflowing poopy diaper was enough to make me run out of the room screaming, and when Aidan bristled with tension until my stomach curdled, that it was hard to imagine a life that didn’t revolve around my two guys.

“It’s not nothing,” I said.

“I think I’m pregnant.”

This made me sit up in the tub.

“What? Why? Did you take a test?”

“No. But my period’s late. And I’ve been feeling really tired lately, which is exactly how I felt when I got pregnant the last time,” Paige said.

“Go get a home pregnancy test. Go now,” I said.

“I don’t want to. I’m afraid.”

“Wait . . . I thought you wanted to get pregnant. A while ago you were talking about going the single-mom-sperm-donor route,” I reminded her.

“I know, I know. But that was before. Now there’s Zack, and our relationship, and shit, Sophie, I don’t know what to do. What if I were pregnant and then Zack and I broke up? I’d have to deal with him for the rest of my life,” Paige said.

“Now you’re breaking up?”

“It could happen! A baby is a big responsibility, and a lot of stress for a new relationship.”

“But you want the baby.”

“Of course. Yes. I think so.”

“Then go take a test. There’s no point in worrying about the long-term consequences when it could just be nothing,” I said.

“And if it’s not nothing?”

“Then it’ll be okay. You’ll have Zack, and me, and Mickey. And if Mom and Dad ever stop acting so insane, you’ll have them, too.”

“I know, but still. And there’s something else . . . I’ve been thinking about leaving my firm,” Paige said.

“You mean not being a lawyer anymore?”

“No. I just don’t want to handle divorces anymore. It’s too toxic. I was thinking of starting a practice that focused on child advocacy. The only thing is that it’ll be financially risky, and even if I could get it off the ground, it would never pay as well as divorces,” she said. “That didn’t matter so much when it was just me, but add in a baby, and I don’t know if I can afford the salary cut. Especially if I end up doing this on my own.”

“What does Zack say?”

“He’s been really supportive of the idea, but that was before. I haven’t told him yet that I might be pregnant,” Paige said.

“Paige! How can you not have told him?”

“What’s the point until I know for sure? I don’t want to scare him or get his hopes up if it just turns out to be early menopause,” she insisted.

“No way, you’re too young for that.”

“I guess. I don’t know what to do. It’s too much to think about. But you know what?”

“What?”

“It’s sort of exciting. The very idea that there could be a little person growing inside of me,” Paige said.

When I swiped at the tears, I rubbed verbena bubbles into my eyes.

“There’s nothing more wonderful in the world,” I agreed.

“Guess what?” I said to Aidan later that night. He was already in bed, dressed in pajama pants and no top. My skin was still flushed red from the hot bath, and I was wearing a white T-shirt and a pair of Aidan’s red plaid boxer shorts.

“What?”

“I’m not supposed to tell you.”

Aidan put down the sports magazine he was reading and looked at me.

“Okay, I’ll tell you,” I said, and I climbed into bed next to him. Paige had sworn me to secrecy, but I think she was more concerned about my telling Mickey or our parents. Surely she hadn’t meant Aidan, even if she did say “Promise me you won’t tell anyone, not even Aidan.” Because I had to tell someone. There was no way I could keep it in.

“Paige might be pregnant. She’s not sure yet, she hasn’t tested or anything, but she thinks she might be,” I announced.

“Oh yeah? That’s nice,” Aidan said. And then he picked his creased copy of
Sports Illustrated
back up.

“Are. You. Kidding. Me?” I said. Gone was the cozy good fun of sharing a secret. Rage erupted inside of me.

“What?”

“What do you mean
what
? I tell you that my sister is pregnant, and your response is ‘That’s nice’?”

“What do you want me to say?”

“I don’t know. Nothing specific. But some sort of a reaction would be nice. God! Why can’t we ever just talk anymore? Why does everything always have to be a fight?”

Aidan put down the magazine.

“Do you really want to know?” he asked.

“Yes.”

“You’ve been acting a little nutty ever since Ben was born. Before then even. Ever since you got pregnant. You freak out at the smallest little things. Look at tonight. I’ve been working all day, and then I took care of Ben this evening to give you some time off, and this is the first moment I’ve had all day to relax. And you start screaming at me because I didn’t react the way you expected me to when you told me some family news,” he said, sounding irritatingly reasonable.

“It’s big news!”

“What? The news that your sister may or may not be pregnant? So basically you’re reporting that what, your sister’s period is late? Tell me—what would be the appropriate amount of enthusiasm for me to show? Should I pump my arm in the air and yell ‘Way to go, Paige’? Or are you waiting for me to ask for a more in-depth analysis of her menstrual cycle? Because I have to say, hon, I’m just not ready to go there. And I don’t think you’re going to find many guys who would,” Aidan said.

“Now you’re making me feel stupid,” I muttered.

“Yeah, well, the one thing you’ve made clear lately is that pretty much whatever I do, it’s wrong,” Aidan said.

“That’s not fair. I don’t criticize everything you do,” I protested, stung at this accusation.

“This morning you accused me of burning your toaster waffle on purpose. Last week when I had a sinus infection, you insinuated that I was faking it to get out of taking care of Ben,” Aidan said.

I lay back on the bed and stared at the ceiling fan circling above me. It went round and round and round, so fast that I couldn’t count how many blades were on it. Aidan turned over on his side so that he was facing me. He reached over and poked me in the side.

“Don’t poke me.”

“Then say something,” he said.

“I know I’ve been touchy lately. I don’t mean to be, I just can’t help it. Between the hormones and the lack of sleep and taking care of Ben—as much as I love him, it can be really hard. Like today. He didn’t nap, and he was crying on and off all day. All day! It’s hard to deal with,” I said.