... and Baby Makes Two Page 18

  Jane invited them over for brunch, and included Karen and Teresa, to keep things lively and to give her a good context. If other women, perfectly respectable single women, were adopting, it added to Jane's sense of legitimacy.

  Mr. and Mrs. Whittier took so long coming up the stairs that Jane began to worry.

  “You okay down there?”

  “Whoo! Yeah! Give us a few minutes, here! Whoo!”

  Teresa sympathized. “Those stairs are just awful. Maybe you should go help them.”

  “How? I can't carry them up.”

  “How are you going to have a baby in this apartment?” Wow, Teresa was becoming so blurty too. Jane couldn't answer because she had no answer and because Ray's parents made their entrance.

  “How are you going to have a baby in this apartment?” Rita asked, following a few Whoos and Oh, Mys.

  “You must be Jane! Hi!”

  Ray made introductions all around, while his mother gulped water and his father mopped his forehead with a tissue. Jane apologized for the stairs and began to feel that she was living in a tree house. Once the Whittiers recovered from their mighty climb, they settled in and stared at everyone in the room.

  “How was the drive?” It seemed like the obvious ice breaker, but the pained looks among the Whittier family revealed an incomplete conspiracy. They had never settled on a party line to describe the torturous drive.

  “That car gets wonderful m-m-m-m-mileage. I think we made it through the C-c-c-c-carolinas on one tank of g-g-gas.” Ray never told Jane that his father stuttered.

  “That's important,” Karen chimed in. “For the environment.”

  Jane had assembled her favorite brunch of bagels, smoked salmon, and all the fixings. She set it up as a buffet. As part of a cleansing preparation for motherhood, Karen was abstaining from meat. She was a little vague about her new diet restrictions, but she was absolutely going to have this salmon. It may have been alive once, but now it was smoked.

  “Is this sushi?” Rita asked Teresa, who always seemed to be the one in the know.

  “Well, technically, it's sashimi, but we call it lox.”

  “I've had sushi. Made me sick. Don't care to try that again, thank you very much.”

  But they made it through the meal. Back in Texas, Jerry and Rita had access to television and the Internet, so there was nothing about New York that was so surprising that they would have to sit down. It might not look, sound, or feel like Texas, but they coped with it just fine. And the bagels in New York were really much nicer than they were in Texas. So big. So fresh. They had a lovely brunch.

  “When Ray was a baby he didn't sleep through the night until he was five years old. I always said that was why he was an only child. We never had a chance to make another one.”

  Ray braced himself for the same stories of his potty training, odd eating habits, and stuffed animal friends that Burton had endured. Jerry and Rita obliged.

  “He wore diapers at night until, oh, gosh, I think he was in kindergarten, was it?”

  “Remember the way he hated ch-ch-ch-ch-cheese?”

  “I think we still have Mr. Jumbles, the bear. You know, I found that thing under his pillow the morning he left for college? Isn't that sweet?”

  Ray endured. He looked at the clock. They had a three o'clock matinee to attend. He could endure anything if he knew when it would end.

  The mimosas went to Rita's head and made her all too comfortable with her almost-daughter-in-law. She settled in to have a real talk with this lovely girl.

  “Jane. You're a lovely girl. I wonder if we could have a real talk”

  “Mom.”

  But Jane let the real talk happen. She knew about the matinee and had the same sense of endurance that Ray had. The finite was infinitely manageable. And she anticipated Rita's idea of a real talk: a series of personal questions. If she thought of this as a list, it felt cozier.

  “When will you go to China?”

  Jane hated this question more than you might think. She didn't know if she would hear from China in a month or three months, or how long it would take to get travel permission. No one liked the haziness of the answer, including Jane. So she said, “In the spring.”

  “Will you take some time off from work?”

  Rita had stopped watching the news in 1989. Jane got to fill her in on Family Leave. Some firms offered paid leave, some offered unpaid leave. Argenti, a big player on Wall Street, offered full pay for three months.

  “How does your employer feel about all this adoption business?”

  Jane hadn't come out at work yet. She was waiting for a sign. So she said, “They're fine.” And began to feel guilty about lying to these nice people, here and at work. She would tell the truth on the next question.

  “How much money do you make?”

  Ray groaned loudly. “Mother! You may not ask that! Try again. Sorry, Jane.”

  Jane wondered if she could postpone the truth to another question.

  “Are you going to stay home with the baby?”

  Jane was planning to hire a nanny, and to be the nicest employer any nanny ever worked for.

  “Can you afford that? And who's going to climb all those stairs for you every day with a baby and a stroller and God knows what else?”

  Ray shot her a look.

  “I'm just asking.”

  Jane didn't have an answer. She hoped she'd find some very fit person who really wanted to stay that way and saw in Jane's building the perfect workout.

  “You know what, Mom? Jane doesn't know where her daughter is going to go to high school, or college, or what she'll wear on May thirtieth seven years from now. No one knows all the answers. We let you ask a bunch of questions that were none of your business, but now you're going to be late for your show. And look outside. It looks like it's going to rain soon, so let's go.”

  “We traded in those t-t-t-tickets. We wanted more time with y-y-y-you and Jane.”

  The unmanageable infinite. Oh, no.

  Teresa and Karen were watching the launch of some horrible new reality show: Watch Your Friends Squirm. They spent a lot of time wrestling with the moral dilemma of staying vs. leaving. The longer they wrestled, the more they got to see. But there would be a price to pay.

  “Do I understand this right? You're all adopting? And you're all single?”

  And it began to rain. Karen and Teresa should have left while the sun shined.

  “Why? I mean, why are you adopting a yellow baby? Can't you get a white one?”

  Ray was imploding. Jane wanted to take care of him. So she did her best. She answered the question.

  “I don't really care if my daughter resembles me or not. That isn't important. And I guess I chose China because I knew China wouldn't reject me. They would let me adopt a baby, even though I'm not married. And it's all so regulated and proper. No black market, nothing devious going on. That's Communism, for you, right?”

  “So, China just lets single ladies adopt their b-b-b-babies? Just like that? Don't they care about fathers? And w-w-what's the deal, do they just hate girls or what?”

  Jane decided everyone needed more coffee/tea/juice/water/ anything in the kitchen. She let Karen and Teresa testify for a while. Ray followed Jane into the kitchen and stayed in there, washing dishes as loudly as he could. When Jane returned to the living room, Teresa seemed to have things under control.

  “So you see, if Dan Quayle was right, then one parent is better than zero parents.” She smiled obligingly at Jane as her footnote. Jane nodded back. Rita and Jerry seemed satisfied with the answer. Rita leaned in and spoke quietly.

  “Tell me, what would you do if your little girl came home from college and told you that she was becoming a gay? That's what happened to us, and I think we handled it as well as anyone. Have you met Burton? Nice man, but he's so hairy! We all went to the pool and—”

  Ray had finished washing the dishes, so Rita leaned back, using her full voice once again.

  “I know we'v
e been intruding, and I'm sure Ray already told you that I'm a busybody and a snoop and he wants nothing to do with his mom and her nosy old questions—”

  “You're close!” Ray shouted from the kitchen, where he was still hiding.

  “But I thank you for talking to me like this. You don't know me from Adam, and all I really wanted out of this trip—aside from seeing Katie Couric—was the chance to get to know you and find out about this whole China baby thing. Yes, I'm a nosy old lady but you're all such sweethearts. Thank you.”

  This made it sound like it was over. And it almost was.

  “Can I ask one more q-q-q-question?”

  Why not?

  “Why aren't any of you ladies m-m-married? I'll tell you, if you moved out of this big city you'd catch a husband as fast as you please. The fellows here all have the eye for each other, and I say that with all d-d-due respect.” He nodded gravely to his son.

  “Jerry's right. You're all pretty enough—you shouldn't have to die old maids.”

  It was Karen's turn.

  “We all follow our own path, Mrs. Whittier. I think that, perhaps, in another life, I had a difficult marriage, and that's why I avoided it this time around. I needed to work on myself.”

  Jerry and Rita didn't understand Karen's answer, and didn't want to lose this last opportunity to find out.

  “But why don't you at least have a b-b-boyfriend?”

  Karen described her last seven boyfriends, of the last three years. Jerry thought she was a bit of a wildcat, with an eye for the wrong man, every time. Teresa described the painful breakup with Victor, her business partner. Rita thought she should snip off his thing. “If he's not going to have babies, he won't need it, right?”

  And then Rita asked, “What about you, Jane?”

  Everyone turned to look at Jane, who had no answer. She wasn't about to say anything about Peter until he was ready to be an us. Maybe she was supposed to tell them about Sam and how he died. But she didn't want to talk about him, either. She didn't want to blame Sam for anything. For years, she saw herself as his widow. But today, trying so hard to tell the truth to her pseudo-mother-in-law, she knew that Sam had nothing to do with this. He had been dead such a long time.

  “I'm single, Mrs. Whittier. I just am.”

  And they took that answer, with no more poking or pushing. They rose to leave, and Ray was visibly delighted. At last, the interrogation was over.

  “Well, I always say, there's a Jack for every Jill. A lid for every pot. I bet you'll find some nice divorced daddy and make a big ol’ family. That's my bet.”

  Jane saw a different plot twist in her future, but she smiled and nodded and helped them gather their coats and bags. It was still raining, so Rita wore her clear plastic scarf and accepted an umbrella from Jane.

  “You're a love! Can I give you a big hug?” Rita didn't wait for an answer, but gave Jane hugs, and kisses. Oh, there were hugs and kisses all around. Ray kept nudging them toward the door. He led the way down the stairs.

  Rita turned and shouted, “We'll come visit again after the baby comes!”

  “Mom!”

  It took them a long time to get down the stairs.

  Chapter Eleven

  Peter had to go to L.A. He had to. You can't break up with your wife by voice mail. Jane knew that one already. It was only a weekend, but he had to go there and see her and tell her and maybe fall back in love with her perky perkiness. He kissed Jane sweetly and wished Jane wouldn't worry so much. Jane tried to grant his wish. After all, it was only a weekend with his wife. What's to worry about? Everything.

  So Jane distracted herself for the weekend by helping Barbara assemble the materials for her big China-moms Seminar in the Living Room. Did Barbara really need a T.A. for this? Jane didn't think so. Her responsibilities included copying, stapling, and pretending to be the evil Maleficent from Sleeping Beauty for Rachel, who then dashed off to a playdate for the afternoon.

  “So. Are you going to marry Peter?” Barbara asked during the stapling marathon. Jane remembered how Barbara always liked to start with the hard questions. She kept her students alert that way.

  “I don't know.”

  “When is he getting his divorce?”

  “I don't know.”

  “Do you think his wife is going to make it difficult?

  She could. Are they California residents? Wouldn't that mean community property laws and all that?”

  “Still with the ‘Don't Know.’ ”

  Jane stopped stapling. She figured she had just flunked a quiz about her own life. Talk about demoralizing.

  “Find out,” said Barbara. “You can't make plans or decisions until you know all this and a whole lot more. He's going to be in your daughter's life. But how much? And how soon? This is happening fast, Janie. Find out.”

  Why did Barbara have to smash her happy plans with all these petty details? Jane stapled with indignation. Eventually she ran out of paper to staple together. She looked up and saw Barbara smiling at her the same way she smiled when Rachel was deep into one of her “I can do it myself scenes. She gingerly took the stack of papers from Jane and said, “Find out.”

  …

  Barbara opened the lecture/discussion with advice about the first weeks home: stock your fridge and make sure you have someone checking on you. Jane was still seething. Find out. She trusted Peter. The man had just flown across the country to end his very Catholic marriage so that he could be with her! Find out, indeed. When are we getting married? Are we getting married?

  “As for your daughter's potential health issues—I'm going to arrange for a separate seminar with Dr. Val. She's the top pediatrician for international adoptions. She'll prep you better than I can.”

  Find out. Oh, Jane would find out all right. Hey. Wait. What did Barbara just say about public school vs. private school? Jane kicked herself for missing Barbara's lecture/discussion.

  “… and those are some of the main factors to consider when you're choosing child care. Any questions?”

  Karen's hand shot up.

  “This sheet here about day care centers? These prices can't be right. This has to be top-of-the line, luxury day care for Kennedys. Where's the real-person day care?”

  “This is it.” Everyone turned and looked at Karen, who now had red splotches on her cheeks. Her eyes were wide. Was she starting to cry?

  “No. This can't be it. I can't afford this. What am I doing? Why didn't someone tell me it was going to be this expensive? I can't swing this. No way.”

  Karen was starting to cry. Her friends circled around her and tried to make comforting sounds as they patted her back. Karen was crying full out.

  “Do I have to cancel this adoption?” she managed to say.

  Barbara stepped in and said, “Could everyone leave us alone? Jane? Could you take them into the kitchen? This might be a good time for a break”

  Jane managed to take care of her fellow students and be the official eavesdropper for the group. She heard, “I need a better job” and “Why didn't I know this?” a few times. She heard the Microsoft melody as Barbara booted up her computer. She heard “budget,” and then things got quiet for a while.

  “Is she canceling her dossier?” Teresa asked.

  “Shhhh!”

  Jane heard “budget” a few more times, followed by “a lot of bologna sandwiches.” She peeked in and saw Karen and Barbara hugging. Barbara signaled to Jane that everyone could come in. And Jane paid strict attention for the rest of the afternoon.

  “Ladies, this is single motherhood you're facing. It's so hard I'm not even going to try to describe it. It's all down to you: paying the bills, helping with homework, fixing boo-boos, and playing games. And so much more. You have to know that you can do this alone. Can you?”

  Jane looked around. She saw finals week exhaustion and terror on the faces of the Chinamoms. Barbara looked as if she had so much more to say but didn't have the heart to beat any more information into these tired women. />
  “Good night, you guys. Get some rest. While you can.” And the Chinamoms climbed out of her sofa like they were climbing out of an open grave.

  Teresa sighed and said, “God, I think my head's going to explode.”

  Karen took Jane aside and whispered, “She must have been a marvelous teacher. I think she just saved my life.”

  “Jane!” Barbara called. “Can I say one more thing to you?”

  Jane went back to her teacher, who said, “I don't want you to be unhappy, Jane. Maybe things will work out with Peter after all. But I think you need to know that you can do this on your own if you have to. If anyone can, you can.”

  Jane wanted to be flattered, but she got stuck on the “maybe.” Maybe things will work out? Things will work out with Peter. Too depleted to fight much, she only managed a quiet, “Things will work out with Peter.”

  To: jane.howe@argenti.com

  From: petermandell@worthnet.net

  Subject: How R U?

  Just returned from CA. Can we meet for dinner tonight? We need to talk.

  XO

  Peter

  He had not called or e-mailed during the trip. Okay it was only a weekend, but still. She missed him. And now Jane prepared herself for anything, everything, nothing: Peter was going to ask her to marry him. Peter was going to pack his things and move to California. Peter was going to become a bride of Christ. Anything.

  He didn't say anything for a while as he held her to his chest like a teddy bear. The good smell had survived transcontinental flights. In her list, preparing for his return, she hadn't included “Peter was going to be silent.”

  “Okay Peter. Just tell me. What happened with your wife? With Bianca.” Saying her name took a little effort.

  Eventually Peter sat down and spoke. “She was so angry. I never heard her voice like that.” Peter seemed to be starting his story in the middle, which was fine. He surprised Bianca with this visit. She took it as a romantic gesture, which led to deep, loud anger.

  “This is going to be complicated, and I haven't even told my parents yet. That's when it will all become real. When I tell my father that I'm getting—” He didn't finish that sentence.