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  Charles decided to move into his own room. Karen would be on her own. Jane tried to use this to keep some sense of perspective on her own troubles. She tried hard.

  “Jane? I think your daughter is doing something,” Teresa warned.

  Yes, Beth was offering her first poop and making sure everyone knew it. Teresa wasn't enjoying the heady scent that was settling into her hotel room. Jane pounced.

  “Have you got a changing table set up?”

  There was a makeshift changing table on a bench with a vinyl pad that Teresa usually carried in her diaper bag.

  “Help yourself.”

  Jane had gotten some practice at this. She whipped off the old diaper, whoosh, and had the wipe ready, 1-2-3. She was doing a masterful diaper changing. And then she saw that she was doing it too well, or at least too quickly. Beth wasn't done yet.

  “She's not done yet. What do I do? What do I do?” It was too late to save the pad or anyone's dignity.

  …

  There were so many Americans at the White Swan Hotel that Jane should have anticipated seeing someone who looked too much like Peter. She should have prepared herself. But for about seventeen seconds she lived out a fantasy. She walked down the hallway, and who was that walking toward her? It was Peter. He had made the grandest of gestures. He had flown halfway around the world to find her. Jane's prayers were answered.

  But the not-Peter-fantasy-man kept walkng. Up close, he didn't look much like Peter at all. The features didn't fit together the right way. The eyes were the wrong color. He was too neat, too angular. No. Not Peter.

  To: [email protected]

  From: [email protected]

  Subject: The Way We Live Now

  Dear Sheila,

  I'm here in the hotel business center with a wriggling baby on my lap. Now I know why no parent can ever spell anything correctly on those listservs. I'm impressed that I've gotten online.

  Oh Sheila, what have I done? Pretty soon, Ill be all alone with FOUR FLIGHTS OF STAIRS and this kid on my hip.

  That's the bad part. The good part is that she's so beautiful (shallow me?) and I can make her laugh pretty much any time I want to. And she clings to me and she wants to belong to me and I want to belong to her. I just hope I'm up to it.

  I alternate between waves of confidence and waves of despair. Please write back to me if you can and tell me how a real mother handles a situation like this. That's silly and selfish of me, because I'll be home in less than a week, but please, please write back anyway.

  And how are things with you and Raoul and the boys?

  XXOO

  J

  PS: What if I can't do this?

  To: [email protected]

  From: [email protected]

  Subject: Re: The Way We Live Now

  Oh, Janie,

  Alternating between confidence and despair? You sound like a real mom to me. Sweetie, you're it. You're the mom here.

  I love Dad, and I've actually had a phone conversation with him since my birthday. And I want us to be close again, if we can. So please remember that when I say that he needs to SHUT UP. Shut him up. Sorry. I know that's a little harsh, but I had to say it.

  I have a husband, yes, but I have twin boys, so the ratio of parent to kid is the same for me. Man-to-man defense. So, I can sort of identify with your life. Please cut yourself lots of slack right now, honey. This is all new. This is hard, you're right about that. But it's going to get better. I promise you.

  Did you ever wonder why I didn't tell you that I was eloping with Raoul? This might sound crazy (I've never said all this out loud—or typed it in an e-mail), but here goes: I needed to know that I was strong enough to do it on my own. I needed to do it without anyone's permission. Even yours. I needed to grow up a little bit.

  And now it's your turn: you can do this. You can, because you have to.

  I can't wait to see you and that baby!

  Love,

  Sheila

  PS: Yes, you can do this.

  To: [email protected]

  From: [email protected]

  Subject: You're In China

  J,

  I cant believe you called me from China and I wasn't here. You sounded really upset in your message, but I don't believe a word of what you said about being incompetent. I bet you're a brilliant mother already.

  How is little Beth? Do you sing to her all the time? What a lucky kid. I should be there with you. I'll confess: I went to the airport and tried to find you. But you had left, and China is a big country. And I'm an idiot.

  Are you ever going to forgive me? What can I do to prove how sorry I am? I made one mistake, and yes it was a big one, but I'm so sorry and I wish I could talk to you. There has to be a way to make it up to you.

  If you want me to go away, I will, but I don't want to. You wouldn't believe how much I miss you.

  Love,

  Peter

  She printed her e-mails to bring back to Ray. As she passed through the hotel restaurant, she saw her friends. She dashed in to share Peter's e-mail, but before she could read one word, she got the news: Charles left. He was gone for a full day before Karen knew it. He had arranged for an earlier flight, because why not? Hey he had no reason to wait around for a Consulate appointment that he had no intention of attending. Karen trudged into the hotel dinner buffet and filled her plate with the evening's special: pigs in a blanket. She ate them with a dramatic, I-dare-you-to-talk-to-me expression. Teresa offered to share Beverly, who didn't know that she was shareable.

  “I sort of thought that Charles and I would, you know, spark. And he would see Ariel and me and think, ‘I want that. Why wouldn't he want that? Instead, he looked at us and said, ‘I need a boarding pass.’ ”

  In the old days, Charles's sudden departure would have called for retail therapy, margaritas, spa treatments, or any one of a list of healing indulgences. In the old days, there was time to tend to these wounds. But the old days ended with a bus ride to Haozhou. Karen didn't need to be told. She fed her daughter a better dinner than the cocktail weenies she was munching.

  Jane put away her printed e-mails.

  …

  Consulate Day. Jane flashed back to the homestudy and was tempted to clean the hotel room, even though no one was going to see it. She had packed one nice dress, specifically for this event, and because she had imagined lovely dinners with her friends at restaurants where cooperative babies served as nice background props. She pulled out a Baby Ralph Lauren dress that fit Beth like an evening gown.

  “Okay Cinderella. Let's have a ball.”

  The Consulate was a short walk from the hotel. There was a mass of Chinese citizens who wanted to get in and get to America. They had no appointments, it seemed. When James shepherded his Americans and their Chinese babies forward, the crowd parted like bad choreography. James spoke briefly to the guard, and the group entered. Someone in the crowd of Chinese shouted, “Lucky Baby! Lucky Baby!”

  There was a Consulate assembly line already in progress. Several Consulate workers were sitting at several tables interviewing several parents. They stamped official-looking stamps and called for the next family. Each interview lasted several minutes.

  Jane had all her paperwork ready a second before it was asked for. She answered the questions clearly and intelligently. She bounced Beth on her knee and kept her happy all the while. There was no trace of gut-wrenching fear left in Jane's voice.

  That night they celebrated, or at least they tried. The whole group had dinner in the hotel restaurant. It had only been ten days, but the girls had all changed so much. To Jane, it seemed that they had been covered with a thin coat of gray paint, but now that paint was washing away. The girls were emerging, and so were the mothers.

  Later Ray arranged the dark and quiet room for Jane to begin tonight's bedtime routine for Beth. Story, bottle, and rocking. It was starting to seem so natural. Even Beth seemed to get it. Jane rocked her daughter and saw a flicker of a smile on h
er face as she rolled her eyes back and fought sleep. Jane kept rocking. This was her daughter. They belonged to each other. This was where she was meant to be. Jane kept rocking. Her back hurt. She was tired. But she was a mother now. Jane kept rocking. And she knew in her heart that she could do this. She could be a mother to her daughter. Beth was asleep.

  …

  She returned to her beloved lists and that rejuvenated her. There was a separate packing list for What to Bring on the Plane to Keep the Baby Happy on an Eighteen-Hour Flight. The flight would be long, but, hey, it was finite and therefore manageable. Jane did a lot of belly breathing whenever she thought about it.

  As the Chinamoms waited to board the plane, they were already laughing and being wise and philosophical about their trip to China. Remember when Charles left? Remember how much Ariel cried every night? Good times!

  When they boarded the flight, Jane settled Beth into her tray/bed with a bottle, and she promptly fell asleep. So Jane ate dinner like a person. Yes, it was airplane food, but that's not the point.

  She was sitting up and feeding herself with both hands. And then she could just plain go to sleep. This flight had reached Cloud Nine.

  Jane dreamed that she was riding a roller coaster, up and down hills. The dream rolled along until she heard a siren. No, it wasn't a siren—it was a baby. She jolted awake and saw Beth still peaceful. It was Ariel.

  The plane was dark, everyone was sleeping or pretending to. But Karen was pacing the aisle with a writhing, kicking, crying, loud baby. She covered the length of the plane, sharing the wealth with one and all.

  Jane rose and took Ariel up and down the aisle for a half hour, so that Karen could rest her arms and cry too. After a painfully long while, Ariel quieted down. Her eyelids began to droop, and she followed them. The squall had depleted her. Karen whispered a quiet “Thank you” and returned to her seat.

  Teresa was watching the whole scene from her seat. She smiled at Jane and winked.

  “You're a natural,” she said quietly.

  Jane smiled back. She returned to her seat and found Ray holding Beth, whose wide eyes were wide open and showed no signs of fatigue.

  “Ariel?” Ray asked.

  “Mmm-hmm. You want me to take Beth?”

  “No, we're fine.”

  Jane sat back. Beth discovered the texture of Ray's shirt and began to gnaw on his shoulder.

  “Ready for home?” he asked.

  “Yes. No. Yes. I actually am.”

  “Did you ever write back to Peter?”

  “No. That's too dangerous. I'm not allowed to see him or speak to him anymore. And fine. Whatever. We'll be okay”

  Ray sighed and shifted Beth to the other shoulder. She seemed delighted to have a new surface to explore and soak.

  “Duh,” said Ray. “I could have told you that. But then, you had to learn it for yourself, Dorothy. Speaking of which, I checked my e-mail,” said Ray. “The paper is sending me to cover the Oscars this year.”

  “Is that good?”

  Ray tried to shrug it off, but the grin on his face betrayed him. “It's excellent.”

  “Are you branching out to cover movies?”

  “A little. Maybe. It's more flexible, so I can be there for you and Beth. I mean, I realize that I'm not Peter, but I think I help.”

  “Slow down, mister. ‘I'm not Peter.’ Ick. Try again.”

  So Ray tried again. “I want this part. I want to play Sort-of-Dad for you two. God, I sound like those needy actors. Cast me! Cast me!”

  “Ray. You got the part. You're our Sort-of-Dad. You're doing it. You're a star.”

  “Bah!” shouted Beth. Several other passengers stared for a while. Was this kid going to be the next screamer? But she went quiet again almost immediately, hypnotized by the bumpy in-flight upholstery.

  “Remember when I overslept and I was late for the plane to China?”

  “That's on my list of Stuff I'll Never Forget. So, yes. I remember.”

  “I didn't oversleep. Burton and I were breaking up. He changed his mind about adoption and that was a deal-breaker for me. It's over.”

  “Oh, God, Ray. I'm so sorry” Jane whispered.

  “I didn't want to tell you before. No offense, but you were officially freaked out for a while there. But now. Well. You're not. And anyway. I talk too much. I could probably spend a lot of years with Burton. He's a good one. But the whole baby thing scared him.”

  “I thought he wanted to have a baby. Didn't you say that?”

  “I did, and he did. But now I think that he was just dreaming. Babies were a remote, straight-couple, pipe dream. Real babies are much scarier. He's never been the same since I came home from that day with baby Stella and there was poop on my Hugo Boss shirt. Hey maybe I should hook him up with Peter's wife.”

  Ray stopped talking. He didn't cry. He didn't cry. He didn't cry. And then he cried. Jane tried to hug him, around sleepy Beth. It was awkward at best, but Jane stayed with it. Eventually Ray sniffed and said, “Just as well. He thinks that you're going to bogart me.” Jane started to protest. Oh, the guilt she was feeling. It wasn't pretty. But Ray stopped her.

  “And so what if you do? That's my choice.”

  They both noticed that each time Beth blinked was slower than the time before. She was falling, so slowly, asleep.

  “There she goes,” Jane whispered.

  Beth was draped at an awkward angle across Ray's chest. He had to support her full weight with his arms. And sleeping children get So Heavy.

  “Are you sure you don't want me to take her?” Jane put some voice behind her whisper.

  “Nah. You know, I still have some upper body strength from all that time I spent at the gym.”

  Jane nodded. She closed her eyes and tried to relax. She thought that Ray was doing the same until he said, “I can't stand this.”

  “Do you want me to take her?”

  “No, not that. I told you. I'm fine with holding her.”

  “What can't you stand?”

  Beth stirred, so Ray had to drop his voice back down to a whisper.

  “Me. I mean, what's going on here? Who am I? I'm a gym rat, then I'm a spiritual guy. And then I'm a workaholic. And even that— I'm a theater critic, then I'm a movie critic. What am I going to be when I grow up?”

  He frowned, but Jane smiled. She was not worried about Ray. Not really.

  “You are grown up, silly. Who else could be strong enough to hold her, patient enough to cope with me, and make enough money to come with me to China? And you even know show tunes, so you can sing to Beth and keep us both happy. And whatever comes next, well, I'm sure you can use that too.”

  Ray had to think about that one for a while. Jane saw his forehead ease. He even smiled a bit. She got it. Maybe he did too.

  …

  They arrived at JFK late at night. The air was beautiful, if only because it was invisible. Jane gulped it and wanted to kiss the tarmac. She carried her daughter on her hip as they moved through the airport.

  “Welcome home, Chinamoms!” Barbara and Rachel formed a tired little welcome wagon. Barbara handed each mom a list (!) entitled, Making the Adjustment to Home.

  “You need fresh air and sunshine to help the girls get used to the time change.” Jane heard vague plans for a playdate the next day at Teresa's. But she stopped listening when she saw him.

  She thought that she may have seen him before he saw her. Peter. He was separate from the crowd of mothers, standing by the door, blocking it. She thought he looked perfect—the way all the features fell into place, forming Peter's face exactly. Still tousled and hazel and warm. Her heart leapt into her mouth. She couldn't speak. It would have taken seconds to run to him there. But then she remembered: This was over. This had to be over. She felt like an addict meeting a mountain of cocaine. She didn't dare go near him. Danger. She looked for a way to dodge him, but then he saw her.

  “Jane!” he shouted. And everyone heard him. Beth, the Chinamoms, everyone in JFK. W
hy was this man smiling? Didn't he know that they were broken up? What was he doing here?

  He was walking toward her. Jane wanted to stop this scary movie. But her feet were locked in six inches of cement. Her mouth was wired shut. Her eyes were taped open.

  “Is this Beth?” Was he actually speaking to her? “She's so beautiful.”

  “No. Sorry, Peter. But, no.”

  “Just let me explain—”

  “Don't. Just go away.”

  And before Jane knew what was happening, the entire fleet of Chinamoms, travel companions, little children, and Ray had formed a circle around her.

  “You heard her,” Ray said. “Go.”

  “But, please!” was as much as Peter got to say. Jane and Beth were now the Beatles, and their entourage sped them along to where the Chinamoms each had a car waiting. Their farewells were quick. They would be together again, and soon. Jane looked back. There was no sign of Peter. She looked in front of her and saw the neon yellow glow of Celeste's hair as she shouted, “Welcome home, darling! Welcome home!”

  Celeste covered Beth with kisses before buckling the child into the five-point harness of the car seat. It looked complicated. Jane was too tired to tell the story of her trip to China, and Celeste understood. “Relax, Little Mama. I get you home soon.” Jane and Ray collapsed on either side of Beth and her car seat.

  The lights on the Long Island Expressway felt like Christmas.

  Chapter Eighteen

  In her old life, Jane always looked forward to the first few days home from a trip. She would rediscover the world she had left behind and find the comfort of her version of normal. That couldn't happen this time. Her new life was unrecognizable.

  Ray planned to stay with her that first night. She was going to need a slow weaning from his assistance. He had to make two trips up the stairs to pull all their luggage into the apartment. Jane carried Beth, who clung to her tightly. Stairs? What are stairs?

  Inside the apartment, Jane said, “Welcome home, love. We're going to bed in a little while. Tomorrow we have a playdate at Auntie Teresa's.”

  And with that, she set Beth to crawling around the apartment. The price for Beth's good sleep on the plane was her alertness here at home. She couldn't be reasoned with. She was staying awake. She liked her room but was unimpressed with the stenciling. Ray supplied a few oohs of appreciation.