The Big "O": A Romantic Comedy (3 page)

I
NSIDE OF THE KITCHEN, Emily, quite harried, balanced baby Max in one arm and containers of food in the other. Oh, she couldn't for the life of her do the math. Was there going to be enough food for everyone? Emily and Edwin had brought a salad and a bottle of good wine. Juliette and Victor were supposed to bring dessert. Weren't they?

She really couldn't remember. Emily was tired of having mommy brain. She felt almost stupid with fatigue. What did she need to do next to finally be finished with food prep?

She moved back and forth between the refrigerator, the kitchen table, and counter, opening up packages of prepared foods and ingredients and struggled to place and arrange the food decoratively on trays and in bowls. Isis came back from the window, irritated that she had been unable to get Edwin’s attention, and took the baby from Emily. Isis inhaled deeply and was thrilled to notice that Jr. smelled like baby powder.

Emily smiled with gratitude and then got lost in her own distressing thoughts about life. Isis looked at her friend but Emily's mind obviously drifting.

“Hey, mon bébé. Did you miss me?” Isis crooned sweetly to baby Max. He cooed and almost seemed to snuggle his little head against her shoulder. She sighed with pleasure and pure joy until she saw Emily’s upset expression.

“Comment ça va, chérie?” Isis asked Emily and scrutinized her face.

“Oh, Max's been weird lately,” Emily admitted, when she noticed that Isis had spoken, after a long pause.

“Max has been a little weird since day one… it's why he intrigues you,” Isis said and her voice was low and throaty and filled with laughter. Normally Emily would laugh too, and would admit that Max intrigued her and always had and always would. But she felt too tired, right then, and Max hadn't gotten up once the previous night. Plus, he had been acting weird, different weird, in the last little while.

“We're just not in sync anymore…
physically
,” Emily said delicately. Isis totally got Emily’s meaning and thought carefully about the last several months to try and thin splice the situation. Then she had a thought that seemed both intuitive and perfectly rational.

“He's probably just keeping it G-rated because of the little Boo,” Isis said happily, nuzzling the baby in her arms.

“N'est-ce pas, baby Max?” Isis said to the baby.

Baby Max cooed and said something that sounded like:

"Oui."

Isis stared in shock at the toddler. Emily had no reaction. Isis was speechless for a long moment. She gestured to baby Max and looked at Emily for an answer.

Emily shrugged, smiled and then nodded at her friend and returned her focus to the food on the table. She understood that her little guy's verbal progress was exceptional but it was a good thing and she had so many things distracting her these days, things that weren't good, so much so that she couldn't focus on stuff like that.

As Emily surveyed the table, she decided that it looked like most everything was ready. She and Isis would need to shuttle it outside to the table on the patio, and wait for the meat to be done, but otherwise everything seemed good to go.

“Yeah, he's been saying a few words,” Emily said.

“Farquat! In freakin' French?” Isis finally managed to gasp out. She would expect a baby who was nearly a toddler to say a few words, some babies babbled or said words when they were only a few months old, but in his own language. She was stunned by the thought that the baby was going to be bi-lingual.

“It's these videos that I got him,” Emily offered, “he loves them, watches the same ones over and over and over.” She laughed.

“Well, don't I feel like the world's biggest slacker?” said Isis and laughed and nuzzled the baby. The thought that the kid was learning French and English made her think that she needed to work on her own goals, beyond going to work and dating, both of which had consumed her life for the last little while.

If Jr. was learning a second language, and Edwin wasn't ready to commit, she'd seriously have to rethink her life.

In the backyard, Max took the veggie stuff off of the grill and put on burgers and steaks as Edwin and Victor stared at him. Damn, he thought to himself. I should have cooked the meat first; it'll take longer to cook than the vegan stuff. Then again, he considered, at least the meat would be hot.

Then he stopped distracting himself with stupid obsessive Bar-B-Q thoughts and thought about the phone call.

“What the fuck, man? What is it?” Victor said to Max. Victor was freaked because Max's face had grown pale and a bit gray. Was his best friend ill? Had it been bad news?

All of them had aging parents, even if they saw them rarely or never. Victor knew that his own heart sank when the phone rang nowadays; in the back of his mind, whenever the telephone rang, was the immediate concern that someone in his family might be dead or dying. So he was, on some level, always expecting bad news.

Max looked almost sick. He looked at his two pals, shrugged and went back to manipulating food on the Bar-B-Q. His buddies exchanged a concerned look. Not withstanding normal life stress, their friend was normally always ready to laugh at life.

“I'm a fucking failure's what,” Max finally said. “Our editor thinks our sales are down, because we're not doing some bullshit social networking.”

Edwin was surprised to hear Max's revelation, the guy was practically moaning; Max normally was much more self-confident, congenial, and upbeat.

“That orgasm author is hot,” Edwin shared. Victor gave Edwin a nasty look even as he admitted, secretly to himself, that she was very attractive in a blonde, made-up, seriously polished and dressy, kind of way.

“Well, damn, man,” Victor said, “that really sucks.”

“So, she's hot and her books are hot, too?” Edwin asked.

“Apparently they really sell. I can't figure it out; it's not like every married woman on the damned planet can't have multiple orgasms already… without her dumb sexpert book,” Max added and laughed. He picked up his drink and knocked it back.

“Yup. Isis does all the time,” Edwin admitted proudly.

“I mean, since little Max popped out,
obviously
,” added Max, “things are a little different but Emily is hot and likes to get hot in the bedroom. Well, historically she does.”

Victor looked like he wished he was dead. He didn’t say a word.

Jesus, why did everything with men come down to money and sex?

He was doing alright in the money department, not like Edwin, obviously, but then his money wasn't daddy's money. E. J. came from a long line of very educated, extremely wealthy people, who were quite successful, and Edwin was the same. Victor was generally happy for the dude. He liked to give Edwin shit about ranMax stuff, in a joking way, of course, to try and loosen the guy up. Edwin was quite proper.

What bothered Victor was that, apparently, in the sex department, he was the only one of his friends who was striking out. It burned his ass and made him feel sad for Juliette.

He hoped to God that she didn't have heart-to-heart conversations about this topic with the girls. The thought made him blush with shame. He'd hate to think that Emily and Isis, and eventually Max and Edwin, would all feel sorry for him or think he was some kind of asshole who couldn't... or wouldn't... give his wife the Big “O.”

Inside of Victor and Juliette’s house, in the master bedroom, Juliette typed away on her laptop. Surrounded by papers and books on the human brain, the nature and development of intelligence, childhood development, and a human brain model, she was consumed by making mental connections in her research.

Biting her lip and rubbing her eyes, reading and re-reading the same sentence over and over again, a string of words about how a baby really could be considered an external fetus, Juliette had the thought that maybe she needed a nap.

Then she realized that she was actually getting quite hungry.

What time is it? What day is it? she wondered and looked at her phone.

It was Saturday, she realized, and very nearly the afternoon. A second later, it occurred to her to think about where Vic might be. He was almost always on the couch, all day, on Saturdays. Like soothing, hypnotic background music, she would work and hear Victor's running commentary, as he watched television, the entire day. Where was he?

It was
the
Saturday, she realized, the Saturday that they were supposed to meet up at Emily and Max's house for a Bar-B-Q. She looked at her phone again, freaked out, and jumped up. She was going to be late and she still had to grab some dessert.

Juliette ran from the house and drove straight to a nearby gourmet market.

From inside the house, Emily looked out the window at the guys, then faced Isis. She'd forgotten how long a Bar-B-Q took to prepare, how long every meal made mostly from scratch seemed to take to make, and she wondered when Juliette would arrive.

“Maybe this isn't part of the physical weirdness, the distance and all, but Max's freaking about baby Max,” Emily said and took the baby from Isis.

“Because why?” Isis asked.

“He's learning at an exponential rate, like maybe genius abilities,” Emily said nonchalantly to Isis. Isis thought about it. Could a baby's mental progress have a negative emotional impact on the parents? She didn't have any experience, really, with babies... or with psychology, for that matter.

“Aren't you baby?” she asked baby Max in a loving tone of voice.

Baby Max stared wide-eyed up at his mother with his beautiful baby blue eyes. He only had a couple of teeth and he always seemed to be smiling. His little lips were bright red and he squirmed and grinned as saliva dripped from his open mouth. He grinned and then spoke.

“Expo-nen-shul,” baby Max slowly said and smiled toothily.

Emily burst into tears as Isis stared at her with a horrified look.

Emily felt positively ill. Oh my god, they were barely getting by and now baby Max was gifted. He would have special intellectual needs. How would they pay for the opportunities, the schooling or anything else, that their child would need?

Emily was about to lose it and her mind raced. Isis was freaked. What could she do or say to help? Emily, her eyes teary, hugged baby Max tightly.

“I wish I'd never played that in-utero music for neuronal development,” Emily admitted, “although the research doesn’t seem to indicate that it actually has a measurable, long term affect. But what do I know?” Isis frowned and looked around.

“Where the freak is Juliette? This is her dealio. She is the perfect person to ask about this,” Isis stated calmly.

She stared at the little boy. He looked like a normal kid. But what the heck did she know? All little kids, skin color, hair type, and gender aside, looked alike to her. They had big eyes and big heads and little bodies. They were cute in a weird sorta way.

What I really notice, she realized, is whether their parents have dressed their children nicely or not. She almost laughed nervously to realize that she was generally more interested in baby fashion than baby psychology. Emily continued speaking as if Isis hadn't said anything.

“It’s not just the little guy. Max is distant. We haven't had sex in ages. We're not selling as many books; he wants me to figure out some kind of a social marketing plan, try new things, but he's not helping,” Emily shared.

“Well, why won't he help?” Isis replied.

“I really don't know or know what to do. I can’t do it all by myself. I’m doing all the writing on our new book. He said he’s busy with conceptualizing or strategizing,” Emily said.

“Is he really?” Isis asked. She'd never known Max to slack off on his work.

“I haven't seen any results, if he's developing something... and I get up in the night for little Max. Our relationship isn’t the same… plus I don’t have a minute to myself and now this,” Emily said.

“Well, maybe…” Isis trailed off, realizing that she didn’t have many suggestions. She really felt out of her depths with all of it.

She had two brothers who were both happily married with no children. Her brothers lived in Atlanta so she didn’t see them or their wives all that much. She didn’t have married friends, other than Emily and Juliette, or other friends with kids.

She looked at Emily more carefully. Emily was a bit of a mess.

The girl was wearing some kind of mom jeans with a top that had seen much better days. The cut and colors weren’t working for Em one bit. Her hair was a mess, as well.

Sure, she had on a bit of lip gloss but it was applied in the way that made it obvious that she didn’t care what color she had put on. It was clear that, in fact, the application of makeup had been a chore, not a pleasure, and that she did not feel good about herself just then. Isis couldn't remember the last time Emily looked truly put-together.

In actuality, the woman definitely needed a complete makeover, Isis thought.

She couldn’t fix the stuff with the kid, the finance stuff, or the bedroom stuff, but Lord knows, a makeover, which would help her friend feel and look more polished would improve Emily’s confidence, and probably have a positive effect into every area of her friend’s life, that she could do. But how to bring it up?

The front door opened and then slammed. Juliette shouted to see where they were. Isis gave a huge sigh of relief. She'd wait to mention a makeover to Emily.

“We’re in here,” Emily called out. Juliette entered the kitchen, flustered, slightly out of breath, her face a bit pink. She held a small Yoda action figure with a gift bow attached to its head. Isis was ecstatic to see Juliette and gave her a huge hug.

“Hey, ladies. Sorry I'm late… I lost track of time and then I had to stop for dessert, so I brought a peace offering for the little guy,” Juliette said and placed several packages of what appeared to be delicious, gourmet, boxed desserts on the end of the table.

“That is fantastic, Jules,” Isis said, knowing that Emily was both grateful to see her and that little Max would love the gift. “He loves that guy.” Isis took the baby out of Emily’s arms and faced him toward Juliette. Max waved his fat little arms.