6:30 AM. The alarm buzzed. I slammed down the sleep button, with every intent of going back to sleep. Five minutes later, I had to go to the bathroom and got up to go. I turned on the light. I looked in the mirror. My wife looked back. I screamed.
6:30 AM. The alarm buzzed. I slammed down the sleep button, with every intent of going back to sleep. Five minutes later, I had to go to the bathroom and got up to go. I turned on the light. I looked in the mirror. My wife looked back. I screamed.
“What’s wrong, Dan?” I heard myself say, from the bed.
“Come here, Jessica. ” I heard my wife’s voice say. “Come here. NOW!”
I saw myself walk in. “What’s wr....DAN! What’s going on?”
“How should I know? I woke up...and I’m you!”
“Well, I’m you! What are you going to do about this?” It was nice to see that, even though we had switched bodies, some things didn’t change. Like this was my fault.
“What am I going to do? I think WE have a problem, don’t you?” I said, with my hands on my hips.
“Sorry, I meant we,” she said, laughing.
“What’s so funny?”
“You. Look at yourself, with your hands on your hips. Is that what I look like?”
I started to laugh, then dropped my hands. “Fair enough. What are we going to do?”
“You’re having a dream. Go back to sleep.”
“How do you know this is a dream?”
“Um, because people don’t switch bodies,” she said, with her voice rising at the end. It was strange. It was my body, with my voice, but distinctively female cadences.
“You must be right.” With that, we went back to bed. Half an hour later, the alarm went off. I rolled over and said, “Honey, you wouldn’t believe the dream I had....holy shit!”
“What?”
“You’re still me!”
“That’s crazy,” she said, rolling over. “Oh...my...god!”
“Fuck...Dammit...what are we going to do?”
“About?”
“You’re me and I’m you, that’s what about....”
“Sorry, I’m freaking here...what happened to us?”
“How should I know? All I know is that we have somehow switched bodies, and now have to figure out what we’re going to do.”
“Call in sick? Give us a day to figure this out?”
“We can’...or I can’t...I have a hearing today that’s already been adjourned once. It’s before Gilberg.”
“Oh...yeah.” Even my non-lawyer wife knew that Justice Gilberg hated adjournments and would make life miserable for any attorney who asked for one for any reason other than death...his or her own.
“How am I going to explain this one...’well, your honor, my wife and I swapped bodies last night and...”
“Well, what am I going to do? I have a meeting with my sales directors about the new launch, and they’re not exactly expecting you either...”
“Maybe, there’s some kind of out for us.”
“An out? Like what?”
“I dunno...let me see if I can get someone to cover for me...give me my Blackberry.”
Jessica handed me my Blackberry. I took it out of its holster and instinctively looked at my e-mail. The first read to “[email protected],” my firm’s e-mail address. “This is weird.”
“What?”
“My e-mail...it has the firm name, but your name.”
“Let me see.” She grabbed the Blackberry. “Huh? This is clearly your e-mail. Something about some kind of case.”
“Check yours.”
“Yup. Here’s an e-mail from Jim,” her boss, “to dan.silverman. It’s like we’ve switched lives or something.”
“That’s impossible.”
“More impossible than switching bodies?”
“Guess not. Check the answering machine. There was a message from your mother yesterday. “
“So?”
“See if that’s changed.”
“I don’t get it.”
“Just check it, OK?”
She pressed, ‘play.’ Her mother’s voice came out. ‘Hi, you two. Danny, call me when you get this.’ “Wow,” Jessica said. She walked into the hall. “Come here. Look at this,” she said, pointing to our wedding photos. We were still in them, but now, in the family shots, I, I mean she...I mean the new me or the old she...was with my family, and she...I mean the old me....I mean, I don’t know...was with hers.
“Oh, shit...we did it. We switched lives.”
“Why did this happen?”
“I don’t know. Since I didn’t know it could happen, I can’t tell you why it did happen, can I?”
“Nice to see you’re still the same pedantic you...”
“Anyway, in Turnabout, this couple stood in front of a statute and unknowingly said the other one had a much easier life...”
“What’s Turnabout?”
“TV show with John Schuck and Sharon Gless. They switch bodies..but not lives.”
“I never heard of it.”
“On for half a season in 1979.”
She laughed, “Oh boy. If you’re going to be me, you’ll have to lose the TV trivia thing...girls don’t do that.”
“Anyway, they wished on a magic statute. Stood in front of any magic statutes lately and wished I could see what your life was like?”
She rolled her eyes. “No. Not that I’m aware of. You? You want my life?”
“God, no!”
“Oh, calm down. I was kidding.” She reached over and kissed the back of my neck.
“What’s that for?” I said, jumping back. It felt good though. “Besides, not now.”
“Boy, you really have become me. Yesterday, you wouldn’t have turned down sex if we had been in a car accident.”
“Yeah, yeah. But, I’m kind of trying to figure out how we’re going to get through today. Look, we need to figure out a plan.”
“Get in the shower.”
“You can go first, if you want.”
“No, you need to,” she said, smiling. “First lesson in being a girl. It’s going to take you longer to get ready,” she reached down to rub my leg. “You need to shave, unless you’re going all dykey on me.”
“Very funny, ha ha. You’re getting to into this. It’s not funny.”
“Just get in there. Call if you need help.”
I walked into the bathroom and my wife stared back at me. She was 5'6", 160 lbs with brown hair and blue eyes. She was reasonably attractive, but she and I, after 5 years of marriage, had both let ourselves go. We both needed to do something, but marriage breeds complacency.
She walked in and handed me a shower cap. “Put this on. You don’t need to wash your hair and getting it wet will just add to your headaches...what’s up? You look depressed.”
“Nothing...just thinking,” I said, putting it on. “Huh...”
“What?”
“It’s funny. Looking at you is kind of like an out-of-body experience.”
“I don’t get it.”
“You know how when you see someone every day, you don’t notice changes. But when it’s someone you don’t see regularly, the changes look pretty drastic.”
“OK?”
“Looking at you now, I see myself through another set of eyes.”
She looked at me. “Yes, I see what you mean.”
“Say ‘yeah.’”
“What?”
“Guys say yeah, not yes.”
“We’d both be better off not saying too much, you know?”
“Yeah.”
“Yes.”
“Sorry, yes. Anyway, looking at you I see what I’ve done to myself.”
“Meaning?”
“Meaning I’ve let myself go.” And I had. I was 6'1". When we got married, I weighed 190 lbs., now I was 225 lbs and going up. Whenever things got back to normal, I was getting back to the gym.
She stared at me. “I see what you mean. I could lose some weight too. Anyway, let’s get through today first, then deal with resolutions.” She smiled and slapped me on my ass. “Get in there.”
I got into the shower, turned on the water and grabbed my soap. “Use the body wash, honey. Soap will dry my skin out and I want my body back same as I left it,” she yelled. I grabbed the body wash and lathered myself up. I rinsed off, lathered my legs and grabbed her razor. I started to shave my left leg.
“Ouch...shit!” I screamed. as I cut my leg.
She came in. “What’s wr...oooh, cut yourself?”
“Yes...now what.”
“Let me watch you shave...”
“Pervert...I’m not some slut on the web.” I said, giggling. I meant to laugh, but it came out a giggle.
She rolled her eyes. “Mmmm, that’s it baby....just shave.” She watched, then said, “Longer strokes and rinse the razor more often. You’re not shaving your face.” I shaved without incident and got out of the shower. “All yours, you big stud.” I figured if I was stuck, I’d play with it.
“I left you an outfit on the bed.”
“I could’ve picked something.”
She laughed. “I can only imagine what that would have looked like. Either a skank or a homeless woman..a homeless woman with no color coordination.”
“Very funny. I have style, I’ll have you know.” Bad style. But style nonetheless. On the bed was a navy blue pantsuit and white blouse. That and a bra, pair of plain white panties and black socks. “No pantyhose?” I said, walking into the bathroom.
“You want pantyhose?” she said in shock. “That’s a little weird.”
“No. You wear them. I figured I was supposed to.” I looked at myself naked. Damn, no wonder she didn’t want to have sex with me very often.
“I would. You’ll have enough problems today. You don’t need that. That’s why I left socks. You want the whole nine yards, we can do it. Dress. Stockings. Heels. If you don’t trip and break your ankle, you’ll be adorable. Not right for court, but adorable. Just wear what I left, OK?”
I did what I was told. I went to put on the blouse and got confused. Then I realized that the buttons were on the left side. I was grateful she left me a pantsuit. It was just like getting dressed, except there was no zipper. Which of course wasn’t really necessary.
She came out of the shower and looked at me. “You look good.” She looked around. “You couldn’t leave anything for me to wear? Nice to see something’s don’t change.”
“Sorry, it’s hard to see myself like this.” I rummaged in my closet. “You need business casual or a suit today?”
“Please get me a suit. It’s a big meeting. I’m running it. I should look good.” I took out a charcoal gray suit, white shirt and blue tie. “This is boring,” she said.
“You’re a guy, remember. Guys don’t dress very interestingly. You can choose gray or navy blue. Stripe or no stripe. That’s it.”
“OK, OK.” She put on the shirt and fumbled with the buttons.
“Other side. I had the same problem.” She pulled on the pants and then went to tie the tie.
“This is hard,” she said, fumbling with it.
“Hang on, sit on the bed. I’ll do it.” She sat down and I climbed on the bed behind her. I wrapped my arms over her shoulders and grabbed the tie. I don’t know why but, when I saw our reflections, it started to get me excited. I kissed her neck.
She turned around and kissed me. It felt strange. I’d never been kissed with such force. It felt wrong, but right at the same time. “I thought you weren’t interested,” she said, with a grin, as she pulled away. I blushed. “You’re blushing. How cute.”
“I don’t know why I did that. I guess something about wrapping my arms around you turned me on. Anyway, sit back down.” I grabbed the tie, “Take the two ends. Make the skinny end shorter. Over, over, under and through. You look good.”
She stood up. “Boy, that was easy. I could get used to this in the morning.”
“Don’t. This is only temporary, I’m sure.”
“Don’t get your panties in a bunch. We need to do your makeup now.”
“Do we have to? Can’t I get away without it?”
“No,” she said, with a grin. “Maybe this isn’t so bad. Maybe you’ll learn something about life on the other side. Sit down and watch.” I must’ve looked nauseous. “Oh, relax, you baby. It’ll be simple. It’s not like we’re going to a formal affair or anything.” She handed me a pencil. “This is eyeliner. Pull down your right eyelid and run the pencil along it gently. You don’t want to look like a raccoon.”
“No, I’m not sticking a pencil in my eye.”
“Grow up. You’ve worn contacts since you were, what, 16. It’s the same thing. We don’t have all day.” I took the pencil and gingerly ran it along my eyelid. That wasn’t so bad. I didn’t poke myself or anything. “Very good. Now the other side. Good.” She handed me a brush. “This is blush. Just lightly dust your face....good. You’re really good at this. Sure you haven’t done this before?”
“NO!”
The vehemence of my response must have thrown her off guard because she looked at me funny and said, “It was a joke. I was kidding. But, methinks the lady doth protest too much, maybe.”
“I’m not...never mind, sorry. This is weird for me, you know.”
“And it isn’t for me?”
“I mean, the make up and all. You’re wearing basically the same thing I am. I mean, I have the makeup and the breasts. It’s kind of scary.”
She grabbed her crotch. “Hey! I’ve got this. Not exactly in my comfort zone, you know.”
“It’s different. It’s not as big...”
She smiled, “You said it. Not me. Look, this is scary for both of us. We’ll get through today and wake up tomorrow and it will all be back to normal. Come on, let’s get some lipstick on you. OK, watch. I’ll do it once, then wipe it off, so you can try.”
“Why do we have to do that?”
“Because, at some point today, you’ll have to touch it up and you can’t look like a clown, can you?”
“I guess not.”
“OK, watch, it’s like coloring. You’re a good artist. Just follow your lips...what?”
“This is getting me hot.”
“Lipstick is getting you hot?”
“I dunno. It’s strange. It’s the closeness of your hand to my lips or something.”
“Pretend I’m gay. OK, let’th do thith,” she said, with an exaggerated lisp. She finished and took a tissue. “Blot your lips on it.” I did it. “That gets rid of any excess,” she said, wiping off my lips. “Now, you try.” My hands shook a little, but I did it. “How’s that?” She looked at me, “Very good...are you sure...never mind. Wipe it off and do it again. You need to do it more quickly in case anyone’s around.”
“Who’d be around?”
“In the ladies’ room, genius. Where do you plan to do this?”
“I can’t go in the ladies’ room.”
“Look at yourself. You can’t very well go in the men’s room. And you can’t hold it all day either, can you?”
“Maybe, I’ll skip the hearing. Or come home after.”
“Just do your lips again...very good. You’re a fast learner. Now, you’re ready to go...wait, you need something,” she said, reaching into her jewelry box. “These are the pearls my mom...or your mom...gave me on our wedding day, be careful,” she said, fumbling with the clasp. “I’m sorry.”
“For what?”
“For all the times I thought you were a clumsy oaf when you put these on me. OK, there we go,” she said, putting them around my neck. What was wrong with me? I felt aroused again and turned around.
She smiled, “Are you looking for practice putting on lipstick?”
“Huh?”
“If I kiss you, you’ll need to put it on again. Calm down. Maybe later, OK?”
I felt frustrated. “OK, let’s do this.” I regained my composure. “The way I see it, we need to keep the talking to a minimum today.”
“Why?”
“So, no one figures us out? Duh?”
“Look at us. Listen to us. We may be freaking out, but to anyone else, we’re who we were yesterday. You’re Jessica. I’m Dan. If we act strangely, that’ll be a problem. Just remember, you are Jessica Silverman. You’re an attorney at Sagman Bennett. I’m Dan Silverman. I’m the senior product director for Stone Pharma. If we act like nothing’s wrong, nothing will be wrong. I’m no happier about this than you are, but it is what it is, so let’s do it. Call me when you get back from court. I want to know my girl is safe.”
“Ha ha, Jess.”
“Dan.”
“What?”
“Remember, I’m Dan. You’re Jessica. Keep saying to yourself, ‘Jessica. Jessica.’ You don’t need to make any mistakes.”
“Boy, an hour and half with a penis and you’re already thinking like a man.”
“Meaning?”
“Cool under pressure. Not like me. I’m pathetic.”
“Stop it. Go to court and do your job. Focus on work and the day will be over soon enough,” she said, handing me a pair of flat black shoes. I put them on and went to leave. “Don’t forget your purse,” she said, putting in my makeup. She kissed me lightly on the lips. “Don’t want to mess your lipstick, Jess. I love you.”
“I love you too...Dan.”
We lived on 87th and 2nd, so I went to 86th Street to catch the train to Brooklyn. The 4 train pulled up and I tried to jostle my way in. There was, as always, one of those assholes who wouldn’t move away from the door , no matter how empty the interior is and no matter how many people who are on the platform. I said, “Excuse me,” and he smirked and refused to move. I threw a shoulder block. Both he and his smirk remained immobile. ‘Huh? Why the hell is this so damn difficult?’ I thought. Then I realized. I wasn’t 6'1" 225 lb. Dan, I was 5'6", 160 lb. Jessica. I had no upper body strength. He stepped out of my way with a sneer, and I moved into the middle of the car to make room for other people. At the pole just off the door were all the women, small children and short men. I always hated these people because they, instead of stepping in, rudely made it difficult to fill the train. I pushed my way in to the middle and went for the overhead rail. I had to stand on tiptoes and realized I had shrunk seven inches. I realized that, maybe, all those people in the middle weren’t rude but too short. I lowered my head and grabbed the pole with the women...I guess, the other women. I kept praying that this was still a dream but, by 14th Street, I realized this was not happening. My back started bothering me, when I realized what the problem was. The aforementioned weights on my chest. Maybe Jessica was feeling the same way about her new penis, but I had that my whole life, so I never thought about it that way. I stood up straighter and the back pain went away.
Finally, I got to Borough Hall and went to the courthouse. I went through the attorney’s entrance, and the court officer said, “Pass?”
“Hang on a sec,” I said, fumbling through my bag for my Secure Pass. The Secure Pass is an i.d. card that lets attorneys avoid standing with the great unwashed to get into court. Or one could argue that it was a way of preventing lawyers from corrupting the general public. Either way, I started fumbling, “It’s here somewhere.”
I heard men behind me moan, “Women.....” I wanted to turn around and scowl, but realized that, yesterday, I would have been one of them.
I found it and mumbled, “Sorry. I...uh...switched bags yesterday.”
“Whatever, counselor. Step through.” I felt embarrassed and headed to the courtroom. The calendar call was for 9:30 but, as I learned early on, that was for attorneys. Judges on the other hand took their time. As my first boss used to say, “If you get there after 9:30, you’re late. If you get there before then, and the judge shows up at 11:00 AM, he’s not late, you’re early.” I didn’t see opposing counsel, so I sat down to read my paper. At 10:45 AM, The clerk called, “Step up on Keller Stationery v American Machine”.
“Da...Jessica Silverman, plaintiff.”
“Forget your name, young lady?” saidd my opposing counsel, Ron Di Nardo. Ron Di Nardo was a perfect specimen of a Court Street lawyer. For those unaware, Court Street is the street that, not surprisingly, runs in front of the Kings County Courthouse. Every Northeastern city has its “Court Street” lawyers. The term started as a slur by big firm, Ivy League snobs for the lawyers who graduated from lesser schools who represented poor or middle class people, small store owners and the sort of people a big firm who wouldn’t let cross their threshold. Mario Cuomo, for instance, started as a Court Street lawyer. However, by this point, the “Court Street” lawyer had devolved into the sort of lawyers who have the big sign reading, “Divorce. Personal Injury. Criminal” facing the street to attract people who come to court without an attorney, and who get paid in cash. Court Street lawyers came in two types. One was the sort with slicked back hair, who wore double breasted fake Hugo Boss suits with matching tie and pocket square, and represented the kind of guy who appeared in three episodes of the Sopranos and got whacked. The other type was like Di Nardo, who wore a dumpy, ill-fitting blue suit, usually covered with crumbs from this morning’s bagel, a stained tie and brown plastic glasses most recently seen on junior high school science teachers in the 1980s. In a TV show, Di Nardo would turn out to be a brilliant litigator. This, however, was not TV. Instead, he was a bastard who, to make up for his lack of legal skills, tried lamely to throw you off your game by saying things like, ‘Forget your name, young lady?’
“Counsel, enough,” said Justice Gilberg, looking me up and down with a look of disgust. I wasn’t really sure what I had done to provoke this look. “This is a settlement conference, our second. Have we settled?”
“No, your honor,” I said.
“The last time we were here you two promised me you were close to settlement. I don’t hold second settlement conferences, but you, Miss Silverman, said,” and he adopted a high pitched voice, “Your honor, we will settle this. I promise.” Di Nardo snickered.
I was shocked by Gilberg’s tone, but soldiered on. “Counsel has refused to budge from his intial offer of $10,000. My client suffered $100,000 in lost orders, which I can prove is due solely to client’s defective merchandise.”
“Your honor, Miss Silverman is being too emotional about this. Her client has no case. But my client, to avoid the expense of trial, has made the eminently reasonable offer of $10,000. She needs to think rationally. Perhaps you can help.” Sexist bastard. I’d heard him make comments like this before but, as a guy, I just ignored him.
“Mr. Di Nardo, keep the comments to a minimum. Clearly, Miss Silverman has rejected your offer. If this is where we are, counsel, you should have cancelled this conference and moved for trial. Miss Silverman,” he said, again looking me up and down disdainfully, “what will your client take, for real.”
“$50,000.”
“Mr. Di Nardo?”
“$15,000, your honor. Although my client will be upset.”
“Well, we certainly don’t want that, do we? Perhaps, you misunderstood Miss Silverman. I asked for a real number. She said fifty, which seems quite reasonable. Fifteen is not. You’ve been around the block, Mr. Di Nardo.”
“Meaning?”
“Meaning if that’s your final offer, I assume we’re going to trial. And I assume that you have informed your client that, if we go to trial, I will not be happy. And I will not be happy with the party that wouldn’t be reasonable.”
“Is that a threat, your honor?”
“Advice, counsel. So?” Gilberg stared at him, and drummed his fingers on his desk. “Trials are inherently risky, and it seems this young woman has recognized that. Take some time, think about it.”
Di Nardo breathed out. “Forty-nine five.” He smirked. Way to go, you hack. Got me down five hundred.
I smiled, “Your honor, I cower in the face of Mr. Di Nardo’s brilliant legal skills. Rather than face him at trial, I will accept forty nine five.”
“Calm down, Miss Silverman,” said Justice Gilberg with a smile. “See, counsel? When we all work together, we can settle. Draft a stip. Step down.”
We drafted a stipulation of settlement and handed it to the clerk. As we were leaving, she said, “May I see you a second, Miss Silverman?”
“You’d best not change that, Miss Silverman,” said Di Nardo, leaving the courtroom.
“Get your meds adjusted, Di Nardo. Paranoia’s getting worse.” With that, he left.
“What’s wrong, ma’am?”
“May I offer you some advice?”
“About?”
“Your outfit.”
“Excuse me?”
“You’ve been before the judge before. He hates pants on women. He’s old school that way.”
“Shit, that explains why he kept looking me up and down.”
“Exactly,” she said, with a smile. “He likes skirts or dresses and heels. You know that. You’re lucky opposing counsel was Di Nardo. Judge hates him.”
“I woke up late this morning. I totally forgot what a sexist he was.” I knew that. Every attorney who appeared before him knew that. But, I never cared. I wore suits. Who cares what he made women go through?
She laughed. “You’re not wrong. But you know, his motto...” Together we said, “He who wears the shmatta makes the rules.”
“Next time, I’ll remember.” I left the court shocked. What right did he have to set what counsel wore, as long as they look professional. That and the cursing. It’s incredibly unprofessional, but neither I nor women didn’t need to have my dainty ears protected.
I got back to the office and called my boss. “How did it go, Jess?”
I paused at ‘Jess.’ “Um, fine, we got forty-nine, five.”
“Forty-nine five, not fifty? Oh wait, Di Nardo,” he laughed. “Way to go, Ronnie. Regular F. Lee Bailey. Did I tell you I went to law school with him? Nice to see things haven’t changed. Anyway, where’s the Techno-slate memo? We want to file it tomorrow, and I need to check it.”
I checked my e-mail. Rachel, my first year associate, was supposed to have finished it this morning and e-mailed me it. It wasn’t there. “Let me call Rachel and see what’s going on. I’ll get back to you.” I hung up and called Rachel into my office.
Rachel was a mousy little blond girl, about 5'2" and 100 lbs. dripping wet. She was twenty-five and looked about sixteen. She was very sweet, but afraid of her own shadow. I tried to explain to her that, if she wanted to litigate, she would need to toughen up. Get a bigger set of balls, as it were. Not that I was one to talk anymore.
“Rachel, where’s the Techno-slate memo? Mike asked me for it. You were supposed to have it for me for this morning.”
“I’m sorry, Jess, but Steven,” her boyfriend, I think. I met some guy who was with her at a firm party “and I had a big fight last night. He’s so awful,” she sighed, looking at me hopefully.
I ignored that. “Look, I’m sorry you two had a fight. But, we have work to do. Get to it.”
She looked shocked. “Bill gave me another project.”
“I don’t care. This came first, and should have been done,” I said forcefully. “I’m sorry you have personal issues, but the Southern District isn’t interested in Steven.”
“What’s wrong? Did you and Dan have a fight?” I wanted to say, ‘No, we’re able to see things from the other’s perspective.’ But I didn’t. Besides, what did my personal life have to do with anything.
“No, we didn’t,” I said, annoyed. “What’s wrong is there’s a motion looking for a memo. A memo from you. This is what you get paid to do. So go do it. I’ll cover with Mike, but I need it ASAP. Order in, if you have to, but just do it.”
Her eyes welled with tears. “I’m sorry ‘my life,’” she said, making air quotes, “got in the way. I’ll go do it now,” she said, walking away like a kicked puppy.
“Thank you,” I said, wondering what just happened. I called Jessica at her office.
“Dan Silverman’s office,” said his secretary.
“Hi, Lena, it’s D...Jessica. Is s...he there?”
She laughed. “Hi, Jessica, you OK? You don’t sound like yourself.”
“I just woke up funny today.” By way of example, with tits and a vagina.
She laughed again. “You and Dan both. Hang on.”
“Hey, sweetie. Glad to see my girl’s safe. How was your morning, princess?” he said, laughing at his own joke.
“Very funny, J...Dan. Hang on, let me close my door,” I said, getting up. “You wouldn’t believe what happened.” With that, I recounted my whole day so far, from the train to the unspoken dress code, when he interrupted me.
“Congratulations.”
“On?”
“You’ve now learned some of what I go through. Guys getting pissed when you can’t find something in your purse. Older guys calling you ‘young lady’ and wanting you dressed in skirts, not pants. Like pants on a woman threaten their manhood.”
“Way to go, Camille Paglia.”
“I’m serious. As long as you’re me, you’ll see it. And, maybe when this is done, you’ll know better.”
“I didn’t do that before today. Anyway, I get back here and Rachel feeds him some bullshit story about not doing a memo because of a fight with her boyfriend. That’s never happened before. What the fuck’s up with that?”
“Welcome to my world. You’re her female boss and female subordinates see female first, instead of boss. Like you’re supposed to let them get away with things a man wouldn’t. Speaking of which, I had a weird conversation with Wendy this morning. She was wearing a cute top, and I said, ‘cute top,’ like I always do and she looked all freaked.”
I laughed, “Jesus, honey. You can’t say that.”
“Why not?” she said, sounding hurt. It was strange to hear my voice sounding so hurt.
“First, no straight guy has ever used the words ‘cute top,’ ever. Second, she works for you. She could call HR on you for harassment.”
“I get it. I get it. What am I supposed to say?”
“Honestly, good morning. How are you? No comments on clothing.”
“Oh,” she said, sounding deflated, then she brightened up, “So, how is it being me?”
“Weird, I’m not used to being so short. I feel powerless.”
“Powerless?”
“Doors feel heavier. I can’t reach the overhead rail in the train. And I have to change the whole way I walk because of your tits. You?”
“First, tell me about. This thing of yours keeps getting in my way. I went to pee and had to remember to stand up. Although, that’s really convenient. Have you peed yet?”
“Not yet. How’s everything else, besides my penis?”
“Actually, it’s really fun. The secretaries asked me to change the water in the cooler and I lifted it no problem. People got out of my way and my meeting, not that you asked...”
“Sorry. How did that go?”
“Great, everyone listened to me. Cameron, that asshole, didn’t interrupt me once...”
“That’s weird.”
“I know. I felt, I don’t know, more respected or something,” her voice lilted.
“Stop ending sentences like questions. Guys don’t do that.”
“I understand.”
“Got it. Say, ‘got it.’ Speak in more clipped sentences.”
“Thanks, dear. Anyway, how do you feel?”
“I told you. Everyone seems more condescending. I have to see how the rest of the day goes. I have a meeting with Sandy Feldstein today, let’s see how that goes.” Sandy Feldstein was a client, who was a self-made construction mogul. He hated being sued, but hated lawyers’ fees more. He was crass and brusque but, once you showed him that you did your job efficiently, calmed down. “Let me get ready. I just want this day over.”
“Tell you what, let me take my girl to dinner tonight.”
“You’re enjoying this too much.”
“Oh, calm down. Go get ready. I’ll see you later...oh, don’t forget to check your face before your meeting. Bye, my little Jessie”
I groaned. “Bye....Dan.” My meeting was in 15 minutes, so I figured I’d better go pee and..eech..check my face. I walked to the bathroom and, by rote, pushed on the men’s room door. Luckily, I saw the man icon and instead reluctantly went into the women’s room. I looked around the room. Two women were in there. I expected the two women in there to shriek or yell but they ignored me. I instinctively searched for a urinal, but realized (a) there weren’t any and (b) I had nothing to use in one anyway. I went into the stall, pulled down my underwear...I mean panties...and the pee came in the kind of powerful stream that I hadn’t had since I was 20. I finished and went to stand up until a voice in my head said “wipe.” I must’ve used half a roll of toilet paper to make sure I was dry and stood up. I walked out and went to the mirror to check my lipstick. Check my lipstick. I felt ridiculous.
Robin, a bitch in the real estate group said brightly, “Hey, Jess, how are you?” Robin was beautiful. 5'10", 150 lbs. Jet black hair and emerald green eyes. Every guy in the firm lusted after her. She had never said more than three words to me. I didn’t know why. So, I decided she was a bitch.
“Um, good and you,” I said, somewhat shocked.
“Great. How’s life in litigation?” By that sentence, she said more to me than she had in my seven years at the firm.
“Fine. How’s real estate?”
“Boy, you’re a woman of few words today. Busy. We have a Feldstein project today. You know, Sandy, I want everything but hate paying.”
I relaxed. She wasn’t so bad. “Tell me about it. I have a meeting with him in ten minutes. He gives you guys headaches. When litigation gets involved, something went wrong and it’s our fault.” This was actually nice. She was really not so bad. I pulled out my lipstick.
“Isn’t it?” she said, laughing. “That’s a great shade for you. What is it?”
I looked at the top, “Um...Bobbi Brown...sexy coral,” I said, blushing.
She smiled. She was even more beautiful when she smiled. “Sexy coral makes you blush? What do you do in bed?”
Now, I really blushed. “I...I...just stop,” I giggled. Again with the giggling. “I have a meeting.”
“OK, OK. This will relax you. Think of Sandy Feldstein naked. His gray, hairy chest. His pot belly. His shrunken balls and shriveled penis,” she said, laughing. “Do you think he takes the big gold chai off?”
I laughed out loud. “You are unbelievable, Robin, you know?” She was really funny and crude. I don’t know why everyone thought she was a bitch.
“Behave yourself,” she said, laughing. “Go get ready. And just remember, ‘oooh, Sandy. Take your Viagra and make me yours....wait a second,” she said, fixing the shoulders on my jacket. Normally, this would’ve made me hot. But, strangely, I felt nothing. “That’s better.”
“Thanks.” I walked out laughing. That was, needless to say, more of a conversation than I ever had in a men’s room. The most I said was, “You don’t buy beer, just rent it.”
I got my files and walked to the conference room. Sandy was sitting at the conference table. I had to stifle a laugh thinking about what Robin said.
“Something funny? Me getting sued funny to you?”
“Sorry, how are you,” I said, sticking out my hand and instinctively gripping his tightly. He looked at me askance. What was so strange about a handshake? “So, a sub is suing for the cost of cement provided. Tell me what happened,” I said, taking out a legal pad.
“What happened? What happened? I’ll tell you what the f...happened! Sorry....” With that, he went into a strange diatribe about how everyone was out to get him and how the ‘greasy guinea’ sub-contractor gave him watered down cement and how he had to re-pour four foundations. What made the diatribe strange wasn’t his paranoia, racism or his complete denial of any responsibility, it was his stifling his language. Normally, Sandy sounded like second place in the Bad Mamet festival. Today, however, he kept stopping and apologizing.
After a tenth apology, I said “What are you sorry for?”
“For talking the way I do. My wife tells me to stop. I tell her I’m seventy-four, I’m not stopping. But I should act nicer. Especially around pretty women.”
I smiled. He relaxed. Amazing what a woman’s smile will do. “I’ve heard worse. I’ve said worse. Although I’ve never seen someone use the word ‘fuck’ so creatively. But, let’s get to it. He...did,” I paused to remember to add more words, “he really provide watered cement?”
“What the f....did I just say?”
“I understand that. I’m asking this between us. It’s privileged. I wanted to know, because if this the usual ‘I don’t want to pay him because I just don’t’ thing, you’ll be caught with your dick in your hand at trial.”
He looked shocked. “Dick in your hand?” grumbled Sandy. “Your mother know you talk like that?”
“Sorry.” His shock amazed and, for some inchoate reason, bothered me. “Excuse me, you’ll,” I took a deep breath, “be embarrassed at trial and you’ll lose and it will cost you lots and you know he’ll ruin your rep with every sub on the Island. Of course, you don’t need me to tell you that, ” I said sweetly. I knew that playing to his ego would calm him down. Always worked on me.
He broke into a smile. “Despite what your boss says about me, I pay my subs. I need sh...things from me.”
“So, I’ll file a standard denial and counterclaim. Relax, I’ll take care of it.”
“Every time my wife says that, it costs me money.”
“She lives with you? She doesn’t get enough.”
“I’m not paying you for that. Send me the fu...papers before you answer. Tell the fat fu...man I’ll call him.”
“Goodbye Sandy, and you can say fuck all you want.”
“My age, saying’s all I can do.” He actually looked ashamed. “Sorry about that.”
“Not as sorry as your wife is, I imagine,” I laughed.
He looked shocked, “You have a dirty mind. You shouldn’t talk that way.”
I went back to work and found the memo from Rachel in my in-box. “Sorry,” she wrote, ending it with a frowny face emoticon. I rolled my eyes. She needed to act professionally. I’d have to talk to her about that. Forty-five minutes later, Mike called me into his office.
“I just got off the phone with Sandy Feldstein,” he said, looking displeased.
“What’s wrong?”
“You cursed. He was very upset.”
“I cursed? He curses like a longshoreman with Tourette’s.”
Mike laughed. “Longshoreman with Tourette’s. That’s funny. Anyway, he’s from the old school. Hard enough to get him to accept women lawyers. But one who curses, I had to calm him down. Don’t do it.”
“Excuse me, but would you be having this conversation with David or Jim or Kevin? Or is it just because I’m a woman” I said, my voice rising with offense. I heard myself, and was shocked at the tone.
“Calm down,” he said. “Look, I don’t like his cursing. And I hate it in meetings under any circumstances. But, he’s the client. And it’s the golden rule - he has the gold, he rules. If it makes you feel better, I told him he can’t curse and expect that no one else will.”
“You know he didn’t hear you.”
“Thanks,” he said ruefully. “Kill my mood. Anyway, he likes your work, so keep the cursing to a minimum next time, OK? This case his usual garbage or legit?”
“Who knows? I got his usual Christopher Columbus Foundation approved rant against subs. I’ll deny everything. His name. His address. The whole thing.” With that, I left his office and worked for the next four and a half hours. I went home on the train, this time standing at the pole to start. When I got home, I, or should I say, my body, was sitting on the couch.
“Hey, sweetie, how was the rest of your day?” he said, leaning down to kiss me. It was strange. I had to stretch to look into my own eyes. “Get through everything OK?”
“Fine. You wouldn’t believe what happened with Sandy Feldstein. Sandy Fucking Cocksucker Feldstein. He kept trying to stop cursing, and then he kept apologizing. He’s never done that before. Then he got pissed when I cursed. Called Mike and everything.”
“I’m not surprised. The older guys in my company do it all the time. They apologize like you’re some dainty flower. It’s a way of subjugating you while seeming like they’re just trying to be polite or something. Then they get angry when you curse. Welcome to the world of double standards.”
“Look at you. You’re no dainty flower.”
She grabbed me. “You know it, baby.” I tried to push away but couldn’t until he loosened his grip.
“On the upside, I had a really nice conversation with Robin.”
“The one you lust after? I thought you said that she was a bitch.”
“No, it’s funny. She started it. Was really nice. We made fun of Sandy together. Then, she straightened my jacket for me.”
“You must’ve gone through the roof with that. Isn’t that like the fantasy of every guy in your office?”
“Nah, it’s weird. I would have thought I’d lose it, but it just felt like a nice gesture.”
She looked at me quizically. “Huh? Anyway, she was nice?”
“Yeah, she’s funny and crude and really sweet. I wonder why.”
“Maybe, because you weren’t leering at her or hitting on her. Maybe, if you, Dan not Jessica, treated her like a person and not a sex object, she’d be nice. Jeez, you’d think you’d know this.”
“Sorry. How was the rest of your day?”
“Good. Fine. Fun. Like I said before, it’s fun being big. Walk where you want. Stand when you pee. Not have to check your make-up all the time. Speaking of which, nice job on the lipstick. You have a real knack for it.”
“Great....”
“Oh, relax. I think today was good for you. You sound like you’ve dealt with some of what we deal with.” With that, she slid next to me and started to give me a back rub. “This OK?”
“Actually, it feels really good....”
Then, she leaned down and kissed my neck. “Don’t jump. We have no place to go.”
“I’m not jumping. Keep doing the backrub. I feel tingly all over.”
“Tingly?” she said, laughing. “Cute.”
“Shut up and keep doing it,” I said, as she kept kissing me and rubbing my back. I turned to face myself. She leaned down and kissed me full on the mouth. Lipstick be damned, I didn’t move. On the one hand, being kissed with such force by a guy scared me. On the other hand, it felt good. She grabbed my waist and pulled me closer.
“Mmmm,” I moaned, as she put her hands under my shirt and began rubbing my back again. I did the same. It felt off-putting rubbing a guy’s back, but it felt like reciprocating was the right thing to do.
Then, she put her hands in my pants and began rubbing my ass. “Hey,” I said, weakly, as I pulled my lips away.
“Trust me, you’ll like it,” she said, kissing me again. She was right. It felt good. Then, she moved around her hand to my vagina. “Stop it,” I said. “That’s weird.”
“Just try it. It’s mine. I know you’ll like it,” and with that, she began rubbing my clit. I moaned, “Oh...oh...oh, that feels so good,” I whimpered. She began moving me towards the bedroom. “Where are we going?”
“I’ve wanted to do this all day,” she said, roughly.
“What?”
“Make love to you. Fuck you.”
“No...”
“No?” she said, rubbing my clit some more. “No? You don’t like this?”
“No...I mean...this feels so good....but...”
“But what? If this feels good, let me fuck you. Come on, it’s my body, I’ll know what feels good.” It’s weird, not only had we switched bodies, it was like we’d switched minds. She wanted sex and I didn’t.
“Yeah, but it feels...gay.”
“Gay?” she said, pulling away. “Gay? What does that mean?” she said, sounding irritated.
“You have a penis. Someone sticking his penis in you makes you gay.”
“And me sticking something in a vagina makes me a lesbian?”
“No, you’ve used a vibrator, it’s different.”
“That is unfuckingbelievable,” she said, tucking in her shirt. “You killed the fucking mood.”
“I’m sorry. This is weird for me. I don’t know. I feel weak. I know that’s really obnoxious. But, you sound like you had a good time today. You got to be stronger and taller and listened to. I got treated like a little girl. And now you want to fuck me and I want you to fuck me, but then I feel like if I let you, it’s like I’m being totally emasculated. Which is funny because I have a vagina. But, am I making any sense?”
She sighed. “I know you’re scared. Believe it or not, I’m scared, too. But, this is just some weird dream or something. If we make love, we’re making love to each other. I’m not a guy fucking you, Dan. I’m your wife. Maybe, I don’t look like it, but this won’t make you gay. Besides,” she said, smiling slyly. “I know what I like. If you’re a good girl and pay attention, when we change back, I’ll let you try out your lesson, OK?”
“I don’t know,” I said coyly. “I mean, you’re this big strong man and I’m just this little girl...”
“That’s it, baby. Get into it,” she said, pulling me closer, sticking her hands back down my pants. Thankfully, she started fingering me again.
“Mmmm....get me in bed before I change my mind.”
“That’s my girl,” she said, moving me backwards, kissing me and fingering me. This felt so amazing. Note to self: Finger the clit...finger the clit. We went into the bedroom and instinct took over. We started stripping each other. She threw me on the bed, and scared me with the ease with which she did it. She went to her drawer and threw her pink negligee on the bed. “Put this on...”
“Why?”
“Trust me.” I put it on and liked the way the silk felt against my smooth skin. It actually put me more in the mood, which scared me.
She started to rub her hands over the lingerie. “Do you like the way that feels?”
“Oh yeah...”
“Say I like it when you rub your hands over my lingerie.”
“I like it when you rub your hands over my lingerie.” Where was she going with this? Who cared? I liked the way it felt.
“Do you feel all girly?”
“What?”
“If you want me to keep going, say it.”
“Oooh, I feel all girly.” I didn’t like where this was going, but I did like the feeling. “What about you? Do you feel like a big strong man?”
She grunted, “I am a big strong man,” she said, sticking her hands under my lingerie and pinching my nipples.
“Fuck me, Dan. Fuck me hard,”I moaned, almost involuntarily.
“Not yet,” she said, spreading my legs and eating me out. “How’s that?” she mumbled.
“Oh...oh...oh...please...please....please...fuck me. Fuck me now!” This was amazing. I never felt this good and I never heard Jessica moan this much. She kept licking me, faster and faster. “Now...oh god, please...please...NOW!” Suddenly, I felt her hands push down on my wrists and she looked down at me with an evil leer. “Hang on. Tell me how big I am.”
OK, that was momentarily weird. “Huh?”
“Tell me how big I am. Bitch.” Someone’s getting into it too much.
“Oh, you’re so huge. I don’t know if I can handle you.” Now, I was getting into it. She touched the tip of her cock onto my clit. I involuntarily bucked, taking her into me. She pulled out slowly, then slid it back in. I was scared, but couldn’t deny the pleasure.
“That’s it,” she said, “Arch your back.” She started thrusting and I started bucking. We kept at it, as she pinched my nipples and teased my clit. I kept bucking my hips, as my body took over my mind. I stopped thinking about who we were and enjoyed the moment. I wished I had a pad to take notes. I figured if I could do this, we’d be at it every night. After ten minutes, she grunted like a rutting pig and we both came. She rolled off of me and said, “So, was it good for you?”
I leaned over and kissed her on the mouth. “That was amazing, actually...we should do that more often.”
“Were you a good girl and paying attention?”
“Yes. I promise when things get back to normal, I will do everything you did. That felt phenomenal. How was it for you?”
“I came, didn’t I?”
“Wow, you’re really taking on the guy role, aren’t you?”
She laughed. “All that thrusting’s so much work, and my arms are kind of sore.”
“See? It’s not so easy, is it. You get used to it though. Although I hope you don’t.”
“Why? Was that so bad?”
“Oh, jeez...yes...I mean, no...I mean, it felt great, but now it feels backwards...”
“You were definitely getting into it...fuck me...fuck me...now. Come on, admit it.” I blushed again. “You are so cute when you blush,” she said, kissing my neck again. “I’m hungry,” she said.
“Me too...but unless you got someone else’s body, you haven’t reloaded yet, if you know what I mean.”
She laughed. “No, I mean I’m hungry. Let’s go get something to eat. You might want to clean yourself up.”
“Huh?”
“Wipe yourself. Like I always do.”
“Oh,” I said, standing up. “Yeech,” I said, as cum started leaking out of me. “This feels gross.”
“Welcome to my world. See, you’re learning so much,” she grinned.
“These are some fucked up lessons, you know?”
“Go pee. I’ll get you some clothes to wear.”
“Do you need to me get you anything?”
“I’ll throw on some jeans and a shirt. Hey, I like this. Dressing without thought.”
“I’m so happy you’re happy.” I peed and when I came out, I saw a black skirt, sweater and red bra and panties on the bed. The bra and panties were all lacy, unlike the plain bra and panties I wore before. “What’s with all this?”
“We’re going out. I wanted you to look nice.”
“Why can’t I wear pants?”
“If this is only a day, I want you to understand everything I go through. And with a skirt you’ll be much more aware of what you’re doing, how you’re walking, how you’re sitting.”
“You’re enjoying this way too much. I’m not making you learn things.”
“What’s to learn? Be insensitive to your partner’s needs. Wear whatever you want. Walk like you’re in charge.”
“Ha ha? What’s with the bra and panties?”
“Well, you know what they say about a girl who wears a red bra and panties....” she leered. “Oh, you’re blushing again, how cute.”
“Stop,” I said, putting on the bra and panties. “I hate to say this...”
“What?”
“These feel, I don’t know, sexy. I’m sorry, that’s got to freak you out.”
“Sort of. But let’s just treat this as a game. You’re a girl. I’m a guy. We’re going to dinner. Let’s leave it at that.” She kissed me again. “But, if I buy you dinner...”
“You men are all the same,” I said, starting to leave.
“Don’t forget your lipstick, sweetie. I want you to look good.” I quickly swiped on the lipstick.
“How’s that?”
Now she looked concerned. “Good. Good. You did that really...well.”
“Stop it. Let’s not get self conscious about this. It’s a game. Remember?”
We walked outside and I realized she was right. I could feel the wind up my skirt and it made me more aware of how I walked. It felt bizarre, but liberating at the same time. My legs were free and the wind tickled my legs. I felt her eyes on me. “What?”
“I...you’re walking so femininely.”
“Huh?”
“Shoulders up, chest out, ass wiggling oh so cutely in that skirt. It’s getting me hot but it’s scary to think my husband’s in there.” The glow of sex had worn off, and now I think everything was hitting us. We weren’t playing a game. Somehow, we had switched bodies and all that we had just done was repeating on us. Would she ever be able to have sex with me knowing I had said I was girly and wanted to be fucked. We could pretend it wasn’t anything, but it was.
[to be continued, if there’s interest]
I woke up the next morning and, before I opened my eyes, felt my chest. “Shit,” I said, feeling breasts. “Shit shit shit.” Another day in drag. OK, I knew it wasn’t drag since I was Jess, but it may as well have been.
The alarm went off. Jess rolled over, opened her eyes and said, “So, it wasn’t a dream…”
“Nope. The nightmare continues.”
“That’s upbeat,” she said, getting up to pee. As she walked out, I walked in and sat down. The seat was wet.
“Would it kill you lift the seat?” I said.
She giggled. “Oops…maybe you’ll remember next time.”
“Having fun?” I said, washing my hands.
I walked out and she was waiting to give me a kiss. It felt weird to look up to get kissed. “A little,” she said. “Come on, it’s not that bad…is it?” she said with an edge.
“Not bad. Just weird. It’s just weird,” and I almost started about last night. Then I saw the panties in the laundry and decided not to go there.
“It’ll be over soon.”
“How do you know?”
She scratched her armpit. There’s a habit I now realized that I needed to break when this was done. She was right. I looked like an ape. “I don’t, I guess. I just figure it has to be.”’’
“Let’s hope.”
“Do you mind if I shower first? I have an early meeting. I’ll be quick.”
“I know. You have it easier.”
She laughed. “Glad to see you’re paying attention.”
I watched my naked self walk into the bathroom and close the door. While Jess was showering, I stared at the ceiling and thought, “did I do something? Say something?” I was still staring at the ceiling when Jess came out. “Thinking about this?” she said, sitting next to me.
“Yup. What else?”
“Me too,” she sighed. “I was trying to think about this meeting, but this,” she said, grabbing her crotch (or, more accurately, mine but who’s nitpicking) “kept getting in the way.”
“So, what do you think?”
“I don’t think. I think we do what we have to do and hope that it changes. You want it to change, right?” she said, with a smile.
“Of course I do,” I said angrily. “You don’t?”
She smiled. “I was trying to make a joke…”
“It’s not funny.”
She looked at me seriously. “It’s not. Do you think I wanted this?”
“No, sorry, we’re both on edge.”
“Sorry too. Go pick out an outfit.”
“What?”
“Pick out what you’re going to wear. I want to see what you pick. I want you to understand what I go through every day.”
“I’ll wear a navy suit.”
“You can’t. You wore that yesterday. People will notice.”
“Yes, they will and you know that.” She was right. I knew that. “So pick something else.”
I went to her closet and took out a cream colored suit and a blue shirt. For some reason, “shell” came into my mind. It was called a shell. 24 hours as a girl and I was calling it a shell.
I took it out and showed her. “Does this work? This shell works with this, right?”
She looked surprised. “Yes, it does...good job,” she said, in a tone of surprise and a little discomfort.
“What?”
“What what?”
“You seem annoyed.”
She shook her head. “No, not at all. Just surprised. That’s a good choice.”
I held my hands on my hips…on purpose, for effect. “I’m not completely unaware, you know.”
She gave me a kiss. “I know. I know. I just didn’t expect ‘shell’.”
I laughed. “Me either. That came into my head while I picked it.”
I showered and got dressed. I came out, “Do I look OK?” She was wearing a blue Ralph Lauren oxford shirt and khakis. I missed that.
She pointed to her dresser and said, “Makeup.” I went over and stood there. “Yes?” she said.
“Do it,” she said matter-of-factly. “I showed you yesterday. Teach one, do one. So do.”
“I don’t know how. What if I mess up?”
“Then, I’ll fix it. But do it first.”
I stood there and put on eyeliner first, then blush and then lipstick. I looked in the mirror. Jess came over.
“How did I do?”
She looked surprised. “Fine. You look…pretty,” she stumbled. “You look good. Good job.”
“What?”
“You’re a fast learner is all.”
“Please,” I said. “Please. Let’s not go there. I don’t want this to be a thing when we change back.”
She put her arms around me. “It won’t be.”
“Promise?”
“Promise. I know you’re a fast learner. It’s just…”
I stopped her. “I know what it’s just. We didn’t choose this. Whatever it is chose us. But I love you no matter what. Do you?”
She looked really upset. “Of course I do.”
I decided to tease her. I pouted and said, “Then why won’t you say it? Is it because you (sob) don’t (sob) love me?”
It took her a second then she said, “uh, you know it’s not that…it’s just…uh,” then she stopped. “I love you no matter what, Dan. You know that.”
I smiled. “Don’t get all girly on me. Man up. You have work. Dan has a meeting.”
She smiled back. “Grow some ovaries, Jess. You’re a litigator.”
We went off to work. I won’t tell you it was easy. It started in the train. I hated standing in the middle and getting bumped and getting dirty looks for standing there. But that wasn’t it. I got out of the train and was walking towards the stairs, when I saw a woman with a stroller. Her child appeared to be about two years old. A bunch of guys looked at her then walked past. “Do you need help?” I said. I always helped before.
“Do you mind? He’s kind of heavy.”
“It can’t be that bad,” I said, with a smile. She thanked me and I went to grab the front of the stroller. “One, two…” I said, struggling.
“It’s OK,” she said. “I appreciate the offer.”
“No, it’s OK,” I said. “We can do this. It’ll just take a while.” And it did. Which frustrated the hell out of me. Two days ago, I would’ve lifted the stroller myself. Today, it took two of us to do it and we had to stop half way up.
We got to the top and she said, “We did it. Girl power,” she said, with a smile. “Seriously, thank you.”
“Please. I can’t believe all those guys walked past.”
She looked rueful. “Believe it.” Then her son looked at me, smiled and said, “pretty.” I don’t know why but that made me happy.
“Why, thank you.”
His mother laughed, “he’s a flirt, this one.”
I smiled and leaned down and said, shocking myself, “you’re a smart one. Always tell a girl she’s pretty. We like that.” One day and it’s we?
I went to work. Mousy little Rachel alternated between giving me death stares and looking like she wanted to say something. Eventually, I called her in and said, “Rachel, I’m sorry if I took your head off yesterday.” She looked expectant then crestfallen when I said, “But, believe it or not, I’m trying to help. Everyone fights with their gir…boyfriend some time. But, you can’t let it affect you here.”
She looked upset, “I thought you’d understand.”
“Why?”
“Because you’re a woman?” she said, upspeaking which I hated.
“I’m also your boss. As are Kevin, Jim and Mike. Would you have used that excuse with them?”
“I just thought…”
“Rachel, you’re great,” which was kind of lie. She was alright, a hard worker but not much for initiative. “But you need to understand. They already think you...we’re all emotional. If you did that with them, you’d be in deep trouble. Whatever goes on outside can’t come inside. Do you understand that?”
“I guess,” she said with upspeak again.
“Don’t guess. Know. Be more confident. If you want to litigate, be confident. Say ‘I know.’” I smiled, hoping that would show her that I was her friend.
“I know,” she said with a smile.
“Good. I’m here to teach you. Help me do that.”
“OK,” she said. “You seem different today. Is everything OK?” Sure, if you don’t count waking up again with breasts and no penis.
“Everything’s fine. I just thought about yesterday and wanted to clear the air. Because Mike wouldn’t. He’d just wait until your review,” which was true, especially when it came to female associates. He wasn’t a bad guy just afraid of getting sued for discrimination.
“Thanks.”
“Also, one more thing. Try to work on upspeak.”
“Upspeak?”
“Saying sentences like they’re questions.”
“Do I do that?” she said nervously.
“Lots of women do. My sister does. It says you don’t believe what you’re saying.” And then, in the ‘not believing what you’re saying’ category, I said, “you know what’s different between us and guys?” She giggled. OK, I had that coming. “No seriously,” I said laughing.
“What?”
“They say things with confidence. Even when they’re wrong and know it. We know we’re right and say things like questions.” Where the hell did that come from? “Be confident. That’s 50% of this job. Now go back to work.”
She smiled. “Thank you. You’re right,” she said, hitting ‘right’ a little too hard. OK, this was a long-term project.
She walked out of my office and I thought about what just happened. “Where did that come from?” I thought. Was I getting into this? No, that wasn’t it. I rolled it around in my head and decided that I only told her what Dan (male Dan, I was still Dan, just Jessica Dan) would have wanted to say but wouldn’t for fear of her crying or complaining. I resolved to mentor her no matter what. She needed a mentor. Jess had a mentor, her first boss Ken. He always pushed her to take on bigger jobs. That’s it. That’s what I was doing. The rest of the day was uneventful. I had few calls and could focus on paperwork which was good. The computer didn’t know if I was male or female.
At 7:00, I packed up and was leaving when Dan called. “Hey beautiful.”
“OK, stop.”
“I just want you to know what to say,” she said, laughing.
“Fine, you well-hung stallion.” She made retching noises.
“Touche. Dinner?”
“I was planning on eating, yes?”
“I meant, do you want to go out? PJ Clarke’s?” Dan worked at 53rd and 3rd. It was two blocks away. It wasn’t necessarily my favorite place. Great burgers but a loud after work crowd.
“Sure. I could use a drink.”
We met up in front. He kissed me on the lips. His stubble tickled. We went in. While we waited for a table, I sat a high top while Dan went to the bar. He came back with a bay breeze and a Stella Artois. He brought them over and handed me the beer. People looked at us. He took a sip of the bay breeze and I the beer. We both winced and switched them. Change is a thorough master.
“How was your day?”
“Actually, really good.”
“That’s great. What happened?” I related the Rachel story. I was proud of myself. Dan looked surprised and said, “That’s, uh, terrific.”
“What?”
“I could never do that.”
“Meaning?”
“Meaning I could never do that.”
“You think I hurt her? I didn’t mean that.”
She held up her hands. “I know you didn’t. And you did a good thing for her. You let her know how guys perceive her. That’s actually really good.” She held up a fist, smiled and said, “Sisterhood!”
“Ha ha ha. How was your day?”
“Weird. It was weird not talking about anything.”
“I thought you had a meeting?”
“Not that kind of talking. Melissa, Ramona and I always talk over coffee about stuff. Today, the two of them did. I walked over and it was awkward. They were polite but I left in thirty seconds. They looked at me funny.”
“I’m sorry. I assume it’s girl stuff?”
“Home stuff. Marriage stuff.” She paused. “Yeah.”
I touched his arm the way she always touched me when I was upset. I found it calming and hoped she did. “I know you’re hurt. But it’s not you. It’s me.”
“Huh?”
“They’re not excluding Jessica, they’re excluding Dan. And they’re not even doing that. They’re just…being them.”
He sighed. “I know. I want to be them. I want to be me too.”
“Hopefully, tomorrow. I want to be me too.”
Well, I woke up the next morning and guess what? I still wasn’t me. The next day, still not me. Friday morning? If you guessed I was still Jess, you’d be right! I made it through every day at work fine, but I hated this. I hated having to get up a half an hour earlier to get ready. I hated being bumped around on the train. I hated being smaller and weaker. And I hated that Jess seemed to be dealing with it without a hitch. She’d say things like, “It’s so much fun not having to think about clothes,” and “I like being able to walk down the street and not have to think about it.” I resented this and was starting to resent her.
Saturday morning came and I woke up. There they still were and there it still wasn’t. “Goddamn it!” I yelled. “Damn it. Damn it. Damn it.”
Jess rolled over, “What’s wrong?”
“What’s wrong? I’m still you. And I can’t take it anymore! I’m tired and I hate it!”
She laughed, “Is it so horrible being me?”
“Yes, it is! It’s not funny! It’s horrible and I don’t know what I did to deserve this, but I absolutely hate it!”
She gave me a cold stare. “Do you think I like being you? Do you?”
“You seem to be enjoying it. ‘I like no makeup. I like being strong.’ You get the better end of the deal.”
“The better end of the deal? Keep digging that hole, Dan. You’ll find out that being you is no bed of roses.”
“Sorry, I just want to be me again. And you seem fine,” I sighed.
“I like being me too. I miss my clothes and makeup. But, welcome to Holland?”
“What? What does that mean?”
“Mikey’s bris.” Mike was our friend’s son, who had Down’s syndrome. They didn’t know until he was born.
“Still lost.”
“At the bris, Jodi’s father read this story called ‘Welcome to Holland.’ Basically, it’s you plan for this trip to Italy. You pack everything. You read guidebooks. You plan where you’re going to go. And then the plane lands in Holland. You can either complain and regret, or you can accept and embrace it. I’d rather be in Italy but I’m not. I’m in Holland. Don’t know for how long but here I am, so I’m dealing.”
“Holland.”
“Yup. Holland.” She went over to my dresser and took out a t-shirt and shorts.
“Where are you going?”
“I’m going for a run. I figure, if I’m going to be you, I’m going to take care of myself.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
She leaned over and kissed me. “You said it the other day. We’ve let ourselves go. Let’s use this to get back in shape for when this goes back.”
“Like returning someone else’s car washed and filled up?” I said, with a smile.
“Exactly! Come on! We used to love running together.”
“You’re right,” I said, going to her drawer and taking out shorts and a t-shirt. “Let’s go.”
She went to the drawer and took out a sports bra. “You’ll need this. Otherwise, the gals will bounce around.”
“Thanks, I think.”
We got dressed and ran up to the park. I watched her run. She was running with her form. Like she had breasts and hips. I stopped her. “You’re running like you. You don’t have tits and hips anymore. Run with your arms closer in, like this,” and I showed her the form. “Got it?”
She laughed, “you look ridiculous, but yeah, I’ve got it,” she said, running off.
I tried to catch her. It was impossible with these shorter legs. Eventually, she slowed down for me to catch up. We ran for an hour. It was arguably the best run I’d ever had. It really helped me clear my mind. I felt in control for the first time in a week. It was just me, Jess and the road. It was, to use a cliché, cathartic.
When we got home, we were both tired and sweaty. “That was a great idea, honey. Thank you.”
“You’re welcome. We both needed that. You shower first.”
I showered and picked out an outfit. When Jess got out of the shower, she looked at me. “Wow,” was all she said. I was wearing a blue sleeveless cotton dress. It came to mid-thigh.
“Is there something wrong with this? I’ve seen you wear this on weekends, I thought.”
“There’s nothing wrong,” she said, kissing my shoulder. “It looks fine. I’m just surprised is all.”
“You’re right. We’re in Holland. I hope for not too long but we’re here. So I figured I’d see what it’s like. Is this freaking you out?”
She smiled. “Not at all. I’m glad you’re willing to try. You look cute. Pick out some shoes to go with it. I want to see how much you’ve paid attention.”
I took a pair of sandals. “Do these work?”
She looked surprised. “Good choice. You’ve been…paying attention.”
We spent the afternoon walking around the city and talking.
“How are you doing Dan,” she said.
“I’m Jessica, remember? We have to be careful.”
“Sorry, how are you doing, Jess?”
“Fine. My feet are tired, but fine. I don’t like the thing between my toes.”
“Being a girl isn’t all fun,” she said. “How is it otherwise? How do you like wearing a dress?”
“It was weird at first, but now I don’t even notice. Does it look weird?”
“Not at all. You look like a girl. My girl,” she said, taking my hand. That sounded weird.
“Am I your girl? Is that weird for you?”
She smiled, “Not at all. Is it for you?”
I thought about it. “No. I figure we’re us. Are we us?”
“We are,” she said, taking me in her arms and kissing me. “Does that tell you?”
“Yes,” I said. “I’m sorry I’ve been crabby the past few days.”
“It’s OK. I know you’ve been dealing with a lot.”
“It’s no excuse. How can I make it up to you?”
She smiled. “Kiss me again.”
We kissed long enough for someone to say, “get a room, you two.”
“You heard him, Dan. Let’s get a room,” I said, with a flirty smile.
We went home and made love. I wore her sexy baby doll nightie. She was on top. When in Holland….
We went to dinner. While we were eating, I said, “I have an idea. We both need to lose weight, right?”
“Yeah, and?”
“Let’s make it a competition.”
“Competition?” she smiled
“Yeah, we weigh in once a week. Loser has to do something the winner wants.”
“Like what?”
“I don’t know. Whatever they want.”
She raised her eyebrows. “Whatever they want?
“I mean not like run around outside naked or something. Within reason.”
“OK…” she said, sticking out her hand, which dwarfed mine. “Deal.” And we shook.
I made a mistake. A big mistake. I worked out three times that week. Jess was busy at work so she only went to the gym once.
Jess had a dinner meeting on Wednesday. She called me while I was eating.
“Hey, babe.” Babe? I’m ‘babe?’ “What’s up?”
“Eating dinner. Grilled salmon and vegetables.”
“Oh boy. We’re at Mastro’s. I just ordered chicken parm. We had really good appetizers.”
“OK,” I laughed. “Remember the bet…”
She chuckled. “I remember.”
“You’ll be sorry.”
She chuckled again, which should have told me something. “We’ll see.”
Saturday came. I got on the scale. I lost 2 pounds.
“Two pounds? How is that possible? I worked out. I ate fish and vegetables? How?” I paused. “The only saving grace is that you have done absolutely nothing…”
Jess smiled and got on the scale. “Five pounds,” she smirked.
“How is that even possible?” I shrieked.
“I don’t know. I ate light Thursday and Friday. Worked out yesterday.”
“That is sooooo not fair!”
She smirked some more. “Fair or unfair, bet’s a bet.”
“Oh g-d. What is it?”
She picked up my hand. “You are not taking care of me. You need a manicure and pedicure…”
“That’s it? That’s easy.”
“I’m not finished,” she grinned evilly. “I noticed when you went into the shower. You need a wax.”
“What kind of wax? Eyebrow, right?” I said hopefully.
“Not exactly. You know what kind…I mean you don’t have to. You’d be going back on our deal though…”
“No, a bet is a bet. And, next week, when I win, I’m not going to be kind…”
“Uh huh. Sure.”
“I can do it. You do it. Women all over Brazil do it. I can totally handle it.”
I could not handle it. This was easily the worst pain that I had ever suffered. Picture someone yanking the hair out of your head…while kicking you in the balls.
I got home and Jess was on the couch. She smiled and said, “So, how did it go?”
“I. HATE. YOU.” I went over to the couch and started hitting her. Unfortunately, I was hitting her girly-style, swinging from the elbow. I kept saying, “I hate you. I hate you. I hate you,” while she laughed.
“Good. It’s not all fun being a girl, is it? You like it when I’m clean? Now you know what it involves?”
“I thought you like it too.”
“I do. But that doesn’t mean it doesn’t suck doing it…Can I see?”
“Seriously? I just had hair yanked out of my groin and you want a show?”
“Aw come on…”
I pulled down my yoga pants and flashed a little bit. “Happy, you pig?” I laughed. “Enjoy it now, because next week, you are going to pay.”
Jess did not pay. I went to the gym every day. I ate salads. I walked home. I read that water helps you lose weight. I drank an ocean. She went to the gym three times that week and skipped desserts.
Saturday came. I knew I was going to win. I was formulating what I was going to make her do.
I stepped on the scale. Three pounds. OK, not great. But I knew I had her beat.
“Five pounds,” she said, doing the ‘raise the roof’ gesture.
“How the fuck did that happen? I was on fire. How could this happen?”
She smiled cryptically. “How is not important. What is important is that it did. Want to know what you have to do?”
“Not especially.”
She walked to her closet and pulled out a short blue lined lace dress. “You have to wear this to dinner tonight,” and then she picked up a pair of blue 3” heels. “And these.”
“OK. I’ll need some practice in the heels but I can do this…”
She smiled, “And one more thing. No panties.”
“What?” I had to give her credit. I couldn’t have come up with this. “No way.”
“Bet’s a bet. Is my Danny afwaid?”
“I. can. do. This,” I said gritting my teeth.
She spent several hours teaching me how to walk in the dress and heels.
“Imagine you’re on a tightrope,” she said. “Little steps. Heel. Toe. Heel. Toe.” We practiced sitting. After what seemed to be several hours, she looked surprised.
“What?” I said. “I thought that I was doing OK.”
“That’s the thing. You are. You’re doing great. If I didn’t know, I’d guess that you’d been wearing a dress and heels for years.”
“Maybe, it’s sense memory from having your body?”
“Maybe. Anyway,” she said, shaking her head. “Tonight will be so much fun.”
“Are you sure the panties are that important?”
She laughed. “Not at all. Just leave them home.”
We went out. “Let’s walk to the restaurant,” she said, snickering.
Initially, it was, as expected, very frightening. I feared that I’d fall. I feared a wind. I feared someone figuring it out. Then, after about ten blocks…
Jess looked at me, “How does it feel?”
I smiled seductively at her. “Actually, it feels really good. It feels…transgressive.”
‘Transgressive?” She looked intrigued.
“Yes,” I said, licking my lips. Hey, if you’re going in, go all in. “Here I am, walking down the street, in my little dress and heels. And people are looking. But, little do they know, I’ve got nothing on. But I do. When I’m walking, I can feel the wind blow right up. And there’s nothing to block it….”
Jess was sweating, “Dan…” she whispered.
I smiled. “I’m not Dan. I’m Jessica. Look at me. Do I look like a Dan to you, silly boy?”
She sweated. “Tell me some more of how it feels, Jessica…”
“Well, the wind blows right up. You can feel it go…right…through…you. It makes me feel so good. It’s making me very excited.” I looked her right in the eye. “It is a shame that we’re going to dinner though. I mean, I imagine I’ll get used to this feeling by then…”
We went home. Jess didn’t even take the dress or the shoes off me. All she said was, “I want to fuck you dressed, you slut…” This was not love-making. It was sex. Raw, rough sex and it was amazing.
We lay there in our wrinkled clothes. “Wow. What came over you?” I said.
“I don’t know. What came over you?”
“I don’t really know. But it felt really good. Is that too weird?”
She smiled, “No, I mean that’s why I did it.”
“Seriously? You’ve done it? Why didn’t you tell me? Or was it with someone else?”
“No. I’ve never done it. I’ve never had the guts. That’s why I made you do it. I figured I’d see what it was like. Clearly, it’s…transgressive.”
“Shut up,” I said with a smile. “Don’t knock it till you’ve tried it.”
“I will,” she said, with a lascivious grin.
I got up and put on a pair of jeans and a shirt. “You going to buy a girl dinner or what?”
I went to work on Monday. At lunch time, Robin peeked her head in. “Lunch? Or are you too busy?” She and I had become friendly since I became Jess.
“I’m not busy. I just need to go someplace where I can get something light. Stupid bet.”
“What stupid bet?”
“I’ve had an ongoing bet with Dan. We’re trying to lose weight. We weigh in once a week and loser has to do what the winner says…”
She laughed, “Jessie, what were you thinking? He’s a guy. You can’t beat a guy at weight loss. They can skip like one meal and lose four pounds.”
“Shit.” She was right. Now I knew why whenever I lost weight, Jess’ sister always looked like she wanted to cut me.
“So what have you bet?” She said, as we went to the elevators.
I blushed. “It is beyond embarrassing…”
“It can’t be that bad…”
“Well, the first week, I had to get waxed…”
“Big deal.”
“It had…been…a while.”
“Oooh,” she winced. “What did the sick bastard want for week two?”
“You have to swear that you will never tell anyone.”
She smiled. “Well, this has to be good.”
“Seriously, no one. Not even Gib,” her husband.
“Oooh…”
“Seriously, or I’m not talking.”
She laughed, “I swear.”
I looked at the ground. “I had to go out. In a mini, 3” heels and,” I took a deep breath, “no underwear.” She laughed loud enough that people turned around. “Come on…people are looking, Robin.”
She was gasping, “Now…that…is…a…bet. You poor thing.”
I smiled, “It wasn’t that bad. It actually felt really good. “
She looked shocked. “I had no idea you were such a little exhibitionist, Miss J. What has gotten into you?” I wanted to tell her the better question was what had fallen off of me, but chose not to. Then she paused, “So what is it you’ve been doing to lose the weight?”
I told her my regimen and she said, “OK, so tomorrow morning, 6 AM. My pilates class.”
“I’m not a big class person. I just like the machines,” I said. And I meant it. Classes were for women and gay guys.
She smiled. “And how’s that working for you? Or do you want to see what he comes up with next?”
The next morning at 5:30, I was up and getting ready.
Jess rolled over. “Where are you going,” he yawned.
“Pilates. With Robin.”
“Seriously? Why?”
“Why? Because I am NOT letting you win this week!”
“Uh huh. As I recall, you liked the last bet…”
“That is so not the point. I am NOT going to lose again. I don’t even want to think about what you’re going to come up with.”
“Whatever,” she said, rolling over. “I’m going back to bed. Good luck.”
“’Good luck?’” I thought. “That’s weird.” I soon realized why.
I got to the Pilates class and Robin was waiting. “Glad you made it.”
“OK, so what do we here?”
“Just follow my lead.” Class started. I figured there’d be some warm up. There were some stretches but even those hurt. Then the torture began.
“OK, we’re starting with swimming,” the instructor said. She came over to me and said, “lie on your stomach with your forehead down.” ‘OK, I’m tired,’ I can do that.
“You keep your pubis on the mat, and keep your thighs tightly together.” Ouch. “Stretch your arms out and palms down. Feet pointed together.” Really ouch.
“Lift your arms, legs, chest, and head up on one count, and hold. Inhale and exhale normally as you alternate lifting right arm/left leg, then left arm/right leg without touching them down to the mat.” I felt pain in my core like I never had before. “Start swimming. Count slowly from 1 to 10…doing great…lift higher and reach longer…excellent job.” I felt every muscle in my body.
We finished class and Robin said, smiling, “So what did you think?”
I was sweaty and my body ached. You’re supposed to say it was a good pain. And maybe it would be down the line, on the scale. But now was not that time. “It hurt like hell.”
She smiled, “Good. If you want to beat Dan, you’re going to have work hard.”
“I know. Thanks.”
“Are you going to do this again?”
I thought about it for a second. “Yes, definitely. I may regret it later, but I’m in.” And I meant it. Between the running and this, I felt like I was in control of myself for the first time since everything happened.
The week was hard. Did I like getting up at 5:30 every day? No. Did I like not being able to move my arms and legs? Not really. But two things kept me going. First and foremost, I was not going to lose the bet. If I had to cut off my foot, I was not losing. The second was a sign I saw in a store – “nothing tastes as good as thin feels.” Which was a very girly thing to say, but for some reason it motivated me.
Wednesday was the hardest. It was our office manager’s birthday and they had cake in the conference room.
Jasmine, one of the administrative assistants, handed me a piece of cake. “No thanks Jasmine.”
She looked hurt. “You’re not going to have cake with us?”
“Sorry, I’m trying to lose weight, but thanks.”
Chanique, one of the other admins, said, “Not even a small piece?” She looked genuinely hurt. I almost gave in. “I’ve been really good this week,” figuring that would end the discussion.
“Diets don’t work. You won’t keep it off,” she said.
“Thanks Chanique.” Ouch. I kept my calm and said, “Debbie, Happy Birthday. I think I’m going to finish some work,” and I left.
I went to back to my office and closed the door. How dare they? Why is my weight loss their business? I heard a knock on the door. “Who is it?”
“Robin. You busy?”
“No, come in. What’s up?”
“What happened in the conference room?”
“How did you hear about it?”
“That’s all the admins are talking about. What happened?”
“I didn’t take a piece of cake. I said I was trying to lose weight. This is a big deal?”
She smiled, “You’ll notice that I wasn’t there. I told Debbie happy birthday before. I told her that I had an assignment Steven needed done.”
“I can’t believe that I have to make up a story to not eat cake.”
She shrugged, “I’m proud of you, for what that’s worth.”
I smiled, “It means a lot.”
“How do you feel?”
“Sore. Good but sore. I’m not losing. If I have to cheat, I’m not losing.”
She smiled. “That’s my girl.”
“I keep telling myself nothing tastes as good as thin feels.”
“Good for you. It’s working.”
“Thanks. I can’t believe that they’re talking about me. They wouldn’t say one word if a guy did it.”
She looked at me like I was an idiot. “Duh.”
“Whatever. I’m doing this.”
She leaned over and touched my arm. It felt nice. Not sexual. Just comforting. “I know you are.” It felt good to have support.
Saturday came and we went to the bathroom.
“You first,” I said. I figured maybe the change would work.
“Two and half pounds,” she said, with a smile.
I got on. “Three pounds,” I cheered. I started dancing around. “Threee pounds. Threee pounds. I win. I win. I win.”
She smiled, “So what’s my punishment?”
“Hmmm.” I thought ‘make her get all dressed up and go to a gay bar? No, wait, she’s a girl. She’s been treated like a piece of meat before. Serve me breakfast in bed? Bo-ring. What could I come up with that was humiliating? Wait, why did it have to humiliate her? Why not make it something I wanted, but would never have asked for?’
“I want you to spank me.”
“What?”
“I want you to spank me. Then tie me to the bed and fuck me.”
“That’s weird.”
“Bet’s a bet. Or are you afwaid?”
“I’m not afraid. Just wondering. Where did this come from?”
“I don’t know. I just always wanted it.”
“Wanted to do it to me? Or have it done to you?”
“Done to me,” I said, taking off the t-shirt I slept in and putting on a sexy nightie. I started moving my hips. “Are you up for it?”
She looked shocked then smiled. “You little slut. What kind of slut dances around like that?”
“Excuse me?”
She grabbed me roughly, which turned me on. “Look at you. What do you have to say for yourself?”
“I…I…I’m sorry.”
“That’s not good enough,” she said, sitting down and pulling me down. “You have been a very bad girl and need to be punished.” She started spanking me. It was just what I expected. It felt amazing.
“Oh g-d,” I moaned.
“Is this OK?” she said, sounding concerned.
“Shut up and do it harder.”
Jessica was always a good loser and complied. “You are a very bad girl. OK, eight (slap), nine (slap), ten. That’s enough,” she said, flipping me over. She took our t-shirts and tied my wrists. Tight. I had no idea why I liked this so much, but I did. Then, she surprised me and took off her underwear. She tied it around my face, so I had to smell her…I mean my…I mean her scent.
We then had the most amazing sex that I had ever had. I came three times.
When she rolled off me, she said, “Wow,” and untied me. “That was…”
“Amazing,” I cooed.
“Yes. Weird but amazing.”
“What do you mean weird?” Now I felt self-conscious.
“Whoa whoa,” she said, holding me. “Not bad weird. I just did not expect that.”
“What did you expect? What would you have chosen?”
“I don’t know. Breakfast in bed?”
“That’s boring.”
“Served on me,” she said, with a grin.
“I’ll keep that in mind for next week.”
“Seriously? You always wanted that?”
“Yup.”
“Why didn’t you ask?”
“I figured you’d think it was weird. Creep you out.”
“Dan, we’re married. I love you. So long as you’re not cheating, you can always ask.”
“Seriously, are you weirded out?”
She grinned. “Not at all. I like you all girly and submissive. Makes me hot.”
“This won’t be weird when we change back?”
“We’re just playing, Dan. So long as you don’t expect to spank me,” she said, starting to tickle me.
“Stop,” I said, giggling like a girl.
“Say, I like when my big strong man spanks me.” She was enjoying this too much.
“No,” I said, squirming and giggling. It worried me that I was getting too into this.
She kept going, “Say it.”
“Fine, I like when my big strong man spanks me.” She let me go.
I caught my breath. “Seriously, are we OK?”
“We’re fine. This is just a game. Go for a run?”
“Let’s.”
We went out for a run. While we ran, two thoughts kept going through my head. The first was that this had brought us closer together. We hadn’t gone running together in years. The second was that I was doing this that we wouldn’t be able to undo. That I was acting too girly and that no matter what she said, when we changed back, she’d never be able to see me as a man again. That she’d leave me for someone else.
She looked over at me, “Are you OK, Danny?”
“Just thinking.”
“About?”
“About,” I paused. “How great it is that we’re running together. It’s been fun doing this again. We need to keep doing this.”
“Yeah, we do. What else?”
“Nothing.”
“That’s not a nothing tone, Danny. I know you.”
“I’m just…”
“Dan, I love you. Like I’ve said, you’re learning how the other half lives. That’s a good thing.”
“You promise?”
“I promise,” she said. Then she sped up. “Come on, you girl!” she said, with a laugh.
We finished the run. I still couldn’t shake the feeling that we had gone somewhere from which we couldn’t come back. I decided, however, that I had to believe that we were what we were and that wouldn’t change.
We both came back and showered. I put on a blue t-shirt and blue and green skirt.
“Nice choice,” she said. “The working out is working. You look cute.”
“Is that OK?”
She sighed, “Yes. I like my girl looking cute.” My girl? Cute? “So what are you going to do today?”
“I don’t know. What do you want to do?”
“I’m meeting Mark for lunch, remember?” Mark was a friend of Jessica’s from college. Initially, I was bothered by her having a single guy friend. Fine, call me sexist and insecure, but I was. After one dinner, I realized they were like brother and sister.
“Oh yeah. Have a good time.”
“What are you going to do?”
“Walk around, I guess.”
“Have a good time,” she said, getting up. “I’ll be back around 4.”
He left and I walked around. I put on a pair of flats and remembered to put some lipstick in my pocketbook. It felt strange thinking my pocketbook. I walked around the Village and SoHo. I found myself looking in clothing stores and thinking how things would look on me. I walked past Anthropologie and saw a long sleeveless dress. I don’t know why but I felt an overwhelming desire to try it on.
I went it to the store and looked around. I felt self-conscious, like sooner or later, someone would realize I was a guy. I don’t know why. No one did anything but smile or ignore me. Like every other woman in the store.
I took the dress off the rack and held it up to me. I looked in the mirror and liked what I saw. Which worried me.
“May I help you, miss?”
“I was just looking at this. Do you have it in a 10?” I knew what size I was, which also worried me.
She handed it to me. “Try it on.”
I went it into the dressing room and put it on. I looked in the mirror. I liked the dress but it was tight around my stomach.
I came out and asked the clerk. “I don’t know. It’s a little tight?” I upspoke. Now I was getting very worried.
The clerk looked nervous, “Um…”
“Be honest.”
“It’s a little tight.”
I smiled. “That’s why I asked. I’m trying to lose weight. Do you have it in a 12?”
“Only on-line. Plus it’ll be too big.”
“I appreciate your honesty. I’ll be back.” And I wanted to come back. I wanted to try on other dresses. Which was yet another thing that worried me. Did I want to be Jessica? I tried to put it out of my mind and kept walking around. I tried not to look in store windows but found myself looking at clothes and shoes and wondering how I’d look. Not how Jessica would look, but me.
I went home and was reading a book when Jess came home.
“How was lunch?”
“Weird.”
“What was weird?”
“Mark was. I could tell something was bothering him…”
“And?”
“And I asked if he wanted to talk about it?”
“And,” I sighed. “What did he say?”
“Not really. I told him he’d feel better if he did. He always does, by the way. And he looked at me weird and changed the topic.” She looked hurt.
I reached over to put my arm around her but she was so much taller, so I put my hand on her hand instead. “You have to remember you’re not you. You’re me. And guys don’t talk about that with other guys.”
“I hate that.”
“I know.”
“I was trying to help.”
“I know. But we don’t do that. We help by asking if you need something and telling you to call if you do.”
“I hate that. What did you do?”
“Walked around.”
“Just walked?”
“Looked at stores.”
She laughed, “Since when do you window shop?”
“I know. But I was walking past and I felt drawn to it. Must be genetic or something,” I laughed.
“That is sexist,” she laughed. “True but you don’t get to say it yet.” I let that go. “So, where did you look?”
“In SoHo.”
“Where?”
“A bunch of stores. Anthropologie.”
“Anthropologie, huh?”
“I don’t know. I just liked it.”
She smiled. “They have very nice stuff. Very feminine. Oh stop, it’s fine,” she said, picking up her iPad. “So show me what you liked.”
I showed her the dress. “I tried it on…”
“Really? How was it?”
“A little tight in the stomach.”
“Keep up the pilates and you’ll look great in it.” I let that ‘you’ go too. “How was trying it on?”
“Like trying on clothes.”
“It didn’t bother you?”
“No. I mean I’m you. I’m a woman. I mean I’m physically a woman. It’s a women’s clothing store. I just tried it on,” I shrugged.
“Good. I mean that. I’m glad you’re getting more comfortable. What else did you like?” I showed her a velvet peasant dress and a couple of swing dresses and a floral print. She smiled, “I had no idea you had such good taste. They’re very cute. In ten pounds, you’ll look adorable in them.”
“So will you.”
She smiled. “Not really my style.” I’m not sure what she meant, but I liked them. I wanted to lose the weight so I could see.
I woke up Tuesday morning and I felt like someone was wrenching my abdomen. The pain was unbearable. I thought I had food poisoning and went to the bathroom. I looked in my underwear and saw blood. “Jess!” I screamed.
She came in, “What’s wrong?”
“My abdomen is killing me and…”
She looked down and smiled. Then she looked up like she was calculating something. “Yup, there we go.”
“What?”
“Flo’s in town.”
“What are you talking about?”
“Your period. It’s been four weeks, I had right before all of this,” she said, with a smile.
“I’m glad you find this funny.”
She kissed me on the forehead. “Not funny. Just now you get the full experience. Everything.”
“I don’t want the full experience,” I moaned.
“No woman does. Now do you want to try a tampon or a pad?”
“What?”
“Tampons feel less bulky, but you have to put it up there.”
“Ick.”
“Grow up.”
“What about pads?”
“It’s easier. You just put it in your underwear, but it feels like a diaper.”
“I guess a pad. How often do you change it?”
“You’ll know.” I looked pleadingly at her. “You look pathetic. Every few hours today. Less so over the next couple of days.”
“How long does this last?”
“You really never paid attention? To your mom? Your sister? Me?”
Sheepishly, I said, “No…”
“Good, now you know.”
“Shower. Then put a pad in and get dressed.”
“I can’t go to work. This is killing me.”
“Man up. Every woman does it every month. Take some Advil and move on.”
“But…”
“No buts. Being a guy is cool,” she laughed.
“I hate you, you know.”
“I know. But this is part of it. Maybe now you’ll realize why I’m in such a bad mood when it happens.”
I went to work. It was painful. I felt like someone was punching me in the stomach hard. Jess was right though. I did feel it when it was time. Those were, however, the longest three days of my life. I felt gassy. My stomach pooched out. I felt awful, not just physically but mentally. I promised myself that, when we switched back, I’d be nicer when it happened.
After that period, something strange happened. Something changed between Jess and me. We didn’t talk as much about what we would do when we changed back. I called her Dan and she called me Jess. She didn’t comment on my clothes or makeup, and I stopped thinking as much about them. I won’t say we crossed a Rubicon. More like this was the new normal.
When I woke up and looked over, Jess was up and looking at me. "Hey beautiful," she said, giving me a kiss.
"That's a wake-up call," I smiled. I had gotten used to her calling me beautiful. At first, it felt weird and mocking. Now it felt normal. "What time is it?"
"9:15."
"How long have you been up?"
"About an hour," she said.
"Why didn't you wake me? Weren't you bored?"
"I read the paper. Besides you looked so sexy lying there. “ I was wearing a teal satin nightie with lace around the neckline and hem. I had put it on the night before when we made love. “I can't believe you can sleep in that."
"What's the big deal?"
"No big deal. I just could never sleep in them. They always rode up on me."
"They don't bother me at all. I like the way they feel."
"Really? Tell me". She looked surprised.
At first that question made me feel awkward. Then I decided to own it and say how it really felt. "I don't know. I like the way the satin feels. It's soft. And the lace tickles.” Then I decided to take a little further. “Especially after we've just made love. After you've just been inside me..." I said, looking her in the eye. I sounded ridiculous but I could see her swallow, her Adam's apple bobbing up and down. I swear I saw little beads of sweat. It was amazing. I knew that the man before me was Jess inside, but she was responding like a guy. Maybe it was biology not psychology.
"You little tease," she said, with a smile.
"And after you pull out, I lay there in my lingerie. Thinking of you." I was going to vomit. "And the satin and lace makes me feel..." I paused then decided to get out in front of it. "Sexy. Feminine. I'm not weirding you out, am I?"
"No you're not. You're me now and I'm you." She sat down behind me, so that her legs were on the outside of mine, and she rubbed my shoulders. "It's totally normal you feel that way. You're a girl. You have girl parts. "
"It's totally normal?"
"Totally. It would be weird if you didn't."
"Did you like it? Or was it just for me?"
"Did I wear it when I was alone? No. But that doesn't mean I didn't like the way it felt."
"Are you sure it doesn't bother you?"
"Not at all. I told you. You look incredibly sexy in it."
That made me feel great. "So did you."
"Thanks. Weird to picture it now, but thanks."
I took it off and held it up to her. "Let's see," I giggled. I was such a girl. "You still look hot in it."
"Ok, that's it," she said, tickling me. "Now you're going to get it."
"Stop! I have to pee," laughing as I got up.
"You have to pee? You are such a girl," she said, laughing as I walked away. "Wow," she said.
"What?"
"All the running and Pilates are really paying off. Your ass and legs are getting really tight.".
"You think? I feel like I'm still twenty pounds too heavy."
"How much have you lost so far?"
"Sixteen pounds."
"I don't know. Between that and all the exercise, let's see in 10 or 15. I know what you're thinking but it's hard to tell on yourself. Every girl has that problem," she said, with a smile.
She got up and walked to the bathroom. As I walked past, she grabbed me by the waist.
"What?"
"This is not sexual. I'm just checking your waist." She paused. "Oh, yeah, it's smaller too.". Her tone was superficially playful but there was a weird undercurrent to it. Somewhere between confused and irritated.
"What? What does that mean?"
"Nothing," she said, while she peed. Was I that loud when I used to? "I'm really am impressed. You've done amazing."
"Are you sure it's OK?"
She laughed, "It's great. If we change back, I get a great body. In the meantime, I have a hot wife who likes being sexy." I noticed that she used if, not when.
I asked, "Mind if I go for a run?"
"You just got up. Why are you in such a rush?"
"Sorry. I have brunch with Lori today. I wanted to clear my head beforehand." I couldn’t stand her. She was nasty and a real Debbie Downer, always complaining about everything and making digs at people.
“She’s not that bad,” she laughed.
“Yes, she is.”
“But, just think, without her, we would never have met.” Which was true. Lori and Jess went to Camp Chenawa together. Lori had grown up in Westchester with Lisa, a friend of mine from Wisconsin. Ten years ago, when I was in law school, Lisa had a party. She invited Lori, who brought Jess. Basic Jewish geography. I believed that, other than because she introduced us, the only reason that they were still friends was inertia. "How about some breakfast beforehand? I was waiting for you?". She looked at me with sad eyes.
"Oh please...fine. I'll sit with you. Maybe get some fruit."
"That's it?"
"I'm eating with Lori. I can’t eat two meals that close together. Besides, being this sexy takes a lot of work," I said, flicking my hair. I put on my shorts and sports bra.
She looked at my chest and said, "Come here."
I laughed and went over. She cupped my breasts. "Trying to cop a cheap feel?"
"Yeah. But..yup...you've lost so much and toned up so much that you need new bras. Smaller ones. This one's too big. It's not really supporting you.". I must've looked upset, because she said, "oh g-d. It's nice to see some Danny in there. It's a good thing. If I had to guess, you're a 34c now. Don't worry. That's plenty hot for me," she said, cupping them again. "Now, THAT'S a cheap feel."
I pulled away, "You're all the same," I said, looking for a t shirt. I found a smaller one. I had been wearing a large while I ran. I decided, "I've been working hard. I should stop hiding it." I put on a medium with a low neck. Jess was right. In this, you could see my new tighter, smaller curves. I was checking myself out in the mirror, when she said, "you really are such a girl. Look at you checking yourself out."
"Stop. You're making me self-conscious."
"Don't be. I'm just teasing you. Besides it's OK. I like that you like checking yourself out. Every girl likes to do it." I ignored that, putting my phone and keys in a pack. I didn't like it but one thing about women's shorts - no pockets.
We walked out the door and she took my hand. I liked her hand enveloping my little one. "I'm really proud of you," she said.
"Thanks. For what?"
"The way you've kept at it. It's not just that you look good. But you keep going. You eat right. You get up every day and work out."
"Thanks. It makes me feel good. And I like looking good. I'm proud of you too."
She tickled my palm with her finger. "It's a lot easier for me," she said.
"Tell me about it," I sighed. "But you look really good too". And she did. You took better care of me than I did. She drank more water. Shaved every day and dressed better. Left to my own devices, I would own ten of the same shirts and pants.
We went to the diner. She ate a short stack of pancakes. I had berries and melon and an iced coffee. Like I said, it took a lot to look this good.
We finished and I gave Jess a kiss. "I'll see you later sweetie."
"Bye, gorgeous. Have fun. Be safe.". Gorgeous?
I ran towards Central Park. We lived on 53rd between 1st and 2nd. I figured I'd run up to the reservoir, do a couple of laps and run back. It was maybe 5 or 6 miles in total. Not a marathon but not too shabby. I didn't bring my earbuds. Ever since I became Jess, I never ran with earbuds. I did it once and felt insecure. I wanted to make sure that I could hear everything around me.
I was halfway up the loop when this guy started running next to me. If I drew a line, I was near the Conservatory Garden. He was about 5'10". Brown hair that was receding. Brown eyes set too close together. His nose wasn't big but his nostrils were huge. And he had a sunken chest. It was weird. Since I became Jess, I had a heightened awareness of people's defining features. I was also more aware of my surroundings.
"Hey," he said.
I made sure we were near other people. "Hey."
"You're a runner?"
That was quite an opening line. I hope that I was better. I went with, "Nope. An invisible bear is chasing me. Has been since my apartment."
He turned around and, jogging backward, started flailing his arms and yelling, "OK. He's gone", he laughed.
"Why thank you", I said, smiling.
He laughed. "You have a great smile. That's not what I meant though. I meant do you run regularly? I just started."
"Good for you."
"You seem really good at it."
"Thanks. I'm not sure that's true..."
"What made you start"?
Well, for starters, I woke up as my wife one day but I couldn't really say that. I went with, "I don't know. I've been doing it since college."
"So what, five years?"
"You're either a terrible liar or blind.". I laughed.
"Seriously, how old are you?"
"33."
"Really? You don't look it."
I smiled then looked down. "Thank you."
"I'm Jordan."
"I'm Jessica". We talked as we ran. He asked where I went to college and, when I told him, he told me how big a Badger fan he was. When I said that I was a lawyer, he told me how his favorite uncle was one too. Then it dawned on me. He was trying to pick me up.
We ran up to the top of the reservoir, when he said, "So, would you like to go out sometime?"
"I'm flattered but I'm married."
Then he got annoyed. "You're married? Where's your ring?". He started running closer to me.
I felt uncomfortable. "None of your business."
He snarled, "You're lying."
I got upset. "I'm not. His name's Dan. I don't wear my ring because I don't want to lose it," I stammered. "But I am."
"You should've said something".
I started to ask why, but I felt really uncomfortable. "Have a good day Jordan. Bye," I said. Then I took off and ran as fast as I could as far as I could. I left the reservoir loop and went on the main one. It was crowded with bikers and tourists. It wasn't as much fun to run, but it was what I needed.
I walked in the door and Jess was on the couch. "How was the run?"
I told her everything. "I don't get what happened."
"You were flirting with him."
"I was just being nice."
"You may look like a girl and act like a girl, but you still have a lot to learn," she said sadly. "Guys take everything like you want to sleep with them."
"I didn't," I said.
"No you didn't. But you weren't like most guys. I'm glad that you ran away from him and went on the big loop. In the future, can you stay on the big loop unless I'm with you."
"No. Yes. I hate that, y'know?"
"I know," she said, rubbing my back. "It sucks. It's not all pretty lingerie," she smiled.
That made me feel a little better. "Shut up."
"Let me teach you some tricks," she said. "You have no upper body strength, but girl's legs are stronger. If someone ever tries something, you use your legs to knock him down. Then kick him in the balls and run. Can you do that?"
"Yes," I said. "I hate that feeling."
"I know. It sucks. But thankfully you only got a little scared. He didn’t touch you? Right?"
"No. Just scared me is all". She was right. I would've told her to stay on the big loop too. To lighten the mood, I said. "I don't think I can meet Lori today."
She rolled her eyes. "Nice try. Go shower."
When I got out of the shower, I went to my closet to pick out an outfit. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Jess sitting there with her phone next to her. “You know what’s weird,” she asked. “My mom hasn’t called in a while. I wonder what’s up,”
I said, “Isn’t this like your dream?”
“What?”
“She calls. You roll your eyes. You mime shooting yourself. She makes you nuts. And now you’re upset that she doesn’t call?” Her mother made her crazy. She would talk about nothing forever. She would complain about threats, real and imagined. She never had a good word to say about her father. Her reaction surprised me.
“You don’t understand,” she snapped, reaching for her phone.
“OK, OK. Whatever makes you happy. I was just kidding,” I said, as she walked into the living room and closing the bedroom door behind her.
I heard her say, “Hi, mom…no, nothing is wrong…no, I can call even if nothing is wrong.” She sighed, “No mom, I don’t have any news. This was a new addition to her repertoire. Several of her friends were expecting, or had just had, grandchildren. She made sure to let Jess know often. “I just figured we hadn’t spoken in a while. What’s going on there? How’s dad?” That would usually prompt a ten-minute rant about him. “Oh yeah, he’s playing tennis. Oh, well say hi to the Harrises for me. D..Jess is fine. We’re seeing Jon and Samantha tonight. No, mom, everything is fine.” Other than your daughter is now your son and your son-in-law your daughter-in-law. “I just wanted to say hi,” she said, sounding deflated. “Well, I love you. Dad too. Bye,” she said, as I walked into the living room.
He looked upset. I should have been supportive or at least stayed out of it. She was supportive of me. Instead, I said, “That was fast. You must be happy.”
She snapped, “I’m not. I don’t know why you thought I would be.”
I apologized, “I didn’t mean anything by it. I just thought…”
“I know. I should be happy. I can’t explain it.”
I leaned over and kissed her on the cheek. “I’m sorry if I upset you.”
“Yeah, OK,” she grumbled.
“It’ll be OK. Let me go figure out what I’m wearing.”
I don’t know why but that must have touched a nerve, because she got nasty. “Why don’t you go do that? Find just the right thing?”
“What does that mean?”
“It means what it means. Go pick something. Let me see. I need to make sure you look OK.”
“I thought I’ve looked good recently. You said so before.”
“Yeah, well, I still want to see,” she snarled.
I didn’t know where that came from, so I tried to lighten the mood. “I want to look nice for my Dan. Be his hot sexy wife.,” I said, kissing her again. I hadn’t done anything that I could tell. I came out wearing a baby blue t shirt and a mid-thigh length white skirt.
“You look fine,” she said, looking down.
“Turn a girl’s head, why don’t you?” I laughed. I was just playing.
“Stop. Just stop. I’m not in the mood.”
“You know what, honey? I’m walking away from this before it gets worse,” I said. It was funny. I was a litigator, but I didn’t like conflict. Especially with Jess. Even if I won, I lost. “Let’s go do our thing. We have dinner with Jon and Sammie later.”
Samantha was a friend of mine from camp. We met when I liked her friend Jill. So, I handled it the only way that was correct. I told my friend Jeremy Glickfeld who told Samantha who told Jill. Jill then told Samantha that she was interested in me, and Samantha told Jeremy who told me.
We went to one dance, when I found out, like generations of men before me, that physical attraction only goes so far when the girl is…
Samantha came over to me at the dance and said, “I knew it wouldn’t work. You’re too smart for her. You read books during rest hour. So do I.” And me, being the average guy, came up with:
“So you’re interested in me?” Like all guys, I assumed the slightest courtesy meant a girl wanted me. I thought about that now and shuddered a little. When I said it then, she rolled her eyes and told me, “No. You’re not my type.” Type? At twelve, I had no idea what my type was other than a girl who let me get to first. Instead, she told me, “we can be friends though. We should be. We’re the smartest ones here.” We had been friends ever since. Like me and Mark, Jess was put off by Samantha at the outset, until she realized that, as she told me, “I would love to see you and Samantha together. You’d kill each other in five minutes. Or she’d come begging me to take you back.”
She relaxed and said, “You’re right. We’re both under stress. I’ll meet you back here later. Have fun,” she laughed, stretching out the word ‘fun.’
“Ha freakin ha ha. Can’t wait. Sure you don’t want to switch?” She was going to play basketball with Mark and his friend Larry, then go somewhere to eat and watch a football game.
She laughed, “Uh, I’d love to, but no I really wouldn’t.”
Lori and I were meeting at Mansion, a diner on 86th and York. It was out of the way but we had become attached to it when Jess used to live up there. It was a warm day. I decided to walk up. I made sure to stay on busy streets.
After a while, I relaxed and found myself checking out myself in the windows. Jess was right. The Pilates and the running were really paying off. My waist did look smaller. My chest and ass did look firmer. With the kitten heel sandals I was wearing, I looked really cute.
I walked past Pookie and Sebastian, a clothing store on 3rd and 79th. There was a pretty off the shoulder lace cocktail dress in the window. I made a note to come back with Lori after brunch. I figured I could wear it to dinner tonight.
I walked in and saw Lori in a booth. “Hey Lor,” I said, brightly, giving her a peck on the cheek
“Look at you,” she said. Not happily. Not derisively. More in a monotone like you’d say, ‘Look at the blue car.’
“Good to see you too. What’s up?”
“Nothing. Since when do we wear skirts to brunch?” She was in jeans and a sweatshirt. She was about 35 pounds overweight, with brown hair and hazel eyes. When she lost weight and put in effort, she was as my grandmother said, “a little zaftig,” but she was …OK. No one you’d turn around for, but not awful. Today, however, was not that day.
“I don’t know. I just felt like it.”
“Well, it’s not you.”
“Whatever. I like it.” I let it go. Well, not really. I was annoyed but decided not to push. “Anyway, what’s going on?”
“Steven and I had a big fight.” This was not going to be good.
“About?”
“He said I’m trying to emasculate him. Can you believe that?” Yes, yes I could. But I couldn’t say that. Well, not in those words exactly, so instead…
“How?”
“What do you mean how? Why does that matter?”
“I just thought maybe we could talk about it. Figure out what happened and see what we can do.”
“Seriously? You’re taking his side.”
“I’m not taking anyone’s side.” Just then, the waitress came over and asked for our orders.
“I’ll have the Orwasher’s French toast stuffed with the cannoli cream and the vanilla glaze.” Among the other things I hated about Lori was her habit of ordering by giving the full name like, “I’ll have the New York strip steak with crimini mushrooms in the port wine reduction.” Jess used to tell me to calm down.
“I’ll have an egg white omelette with swiss and tomato. Rye toast, no, an English muffin. No home fries, please.”
Lori glared at me.
“What?”
“An egg white omelet with swiss and tomato. Rye toast, no, wait an English muffin. And no home fries please,” she said, with a sneer.
“I still don’t get it.”
“I always order the French toast. You get chocolate chip pancakes. We split.”
“I wasn’t in the mood?”
“You just want to make me feel bad.”
“I’m trying to lose weight?” Suddenly, I was upspeaking. “I’ve been doing Pilates. I’ve lost 16 pounds so far.”
“Pilates, huh? Since when do YOU do Pilates?”
“About two months. You haven’t noticed.”
She didn’t say anything except, “let’s see if it lasts.”
“Ouch. Thanks for the support, Lor.”
“What? I know you. We’ll see if it lasts.”
“It’s not about you. It’s about me. Anyway, what about Steven?”
“He says I always try and embarrass him. He said that I call him out in front of other people on the way he eats, the way he dresses and that I always compare him to other people’s husbands and stuff. Can you believe that?”
“Um, can I say something?”
“What,” she said, glaring at me.
“The last time we went out, you said, ‘let’s play a game. Let’s see how long we can go without making noises while we eat.’”
“And? It’s incredibly annoying. You’ve said that.”
“It is,” and it was. “But that’s not it. You called him out in front of another guy.”
“I called him out in front of DAN.”
“What does that mean?” Now, I was intrigued.
“You make fun of Dan all the time in front of us. ‘Dan, tie your shoes.’ ‘Dan, watch where you’re walking. ‘ ‘Dan, we’ve all heard that before.’ ‘I swear I don’t have children because I already have one.’ How is this different?”
“Dan gave it to me the last time I did that. I realized I was wrong.” That was, strictly speaking, not true. I just stewed the entire night and never said anything. “He told me you can’t call out guys in front of other guys and so now I don’t.”
“Whatever…” Jess did this, too. It pissed me off. It was dismissive, like what I had to say wasn’t worth discussion.
“Don’t whatever me. We’ve known each other for like 24 years. I’m trying to help.”
“Uh huh.”
“Seriously, you infantilized him. ‘Let’s see how long WE can go.’ Dan said you should’ve just whispered, ‘can you eat more quietly?’”
“So, Dan knows all now? He’s the king? That’s funny.”
“That’s not it, at all. I am trying to help.” Just then, the waitress brought our food.
“Do you want some?”
“No, thank you,” she said.
We ate in silence. I noticed she was alternating between picking at her food and then scarfing it.
“Um, everything OK, Lor?”
“Fine.” More picking, then scarfing.
“So, the trip from Dan’s company this year is to the Breakers.”
“OK.”
“I’m really excited. I hear it’s beautiful. Didn’t you go there with your parents?”
“Yes.” One word answers. This was going to be fun. “Did you like it?”
“It was fine.”
Fine, if she wanted to be that way, so could I. We sat there for ten minutes. I ate. She would eat, then watch me, then eat again. It was maddening.
“Lori, what do you want from me?”
“Nothing.”
“It’s not nothing.”
“I don’t want anything from you. I just want to eat my Orwasher’s French Toast.” It’s FRENCH TOAST. Like she had other French toast sitting there from which to choose.
“Fine, I was asking you about the Breakers because I’ve never been. I’m excited for the trip.”
“You hate these trips.”
“No, I don’t.” OK, I sort of did. Lots of jocky bro types competing with each other.
“You hate the Barbies. You hate the dinners. You hate the activities. You hate being” and she air quoted, which also annoyed me, “’on vacation’ with your co-workers.” This was sort of true. Jessica used to complain about being with the people from work. She used to call all the manager’s wives the “Barbies,” which always struck me as judgmental.
“I figured I’d go with an open mind this year?”
“Yeah, OK. I bet I’ll get a call within two days.”
“Why are you so angry with me?”
“Because you’re trying to make me feel bad.”
“How?”
“I take Pilates. Egg whites. I just want to have an open mind. King Dan.”
“I do take Pilates. I like it. I wanted egg whites. Excuse me for having an open mind. And King Dan is your phrase, not mine. It’s not about you. It’s about me. Why can’t I want to try something new?”
“You’re trying to be a Barbie.”
“What?”
“You’re trying to be one of them. But you’re not. You’re us. We always made fun of them. Jill Glatzer and her friends.” Jill Glatzer was a stereotypical JAP. Short, dark curly hair. Good body. Well, she had a good body. Jess showed me pictures on Facebook of a camp reunion and she was one of those women who never worked out and had a good body when she was younger. And then her 30s and a kid hit. Now, she was very overweight.
“I’m not trying to be one of anything. I’m trying to be me.”
“Whatever.” Jess used to do that. It felt like “I have no intelligent response, so I’m going to dismiss you.”
“Lor, I love you. And I don’t judge you. But, if it’s makes you feel better, go ahead.”
We finished the rest of the meal in silence. Normally, Jess and Lori would spend a couple of hours after lunch, shopping and doing g-d knows what. Lori looked at me and said, “I’m going home.”
“You don’t want to hang out? I saw something at Pookie and Sebastian”
“Pookie and Sebastian?” she sneered. “You know nothing there fits me.”
“I wasn’t trying to hurt you. I was trying to help.”
“Really?”
“Yes, really. Do you love Steven?”
“Yes. Of course,” she said, in a forced manner.
“Then, why not try to see things from his side?”
“He’s annoying.”
“They’re all annoying. We,” and I smiled, “are annoying. That’s how it works.”
She glared at me. “How about I tell you about you and Dan?”
“What about us?” I said, steeling myself.
“You’re condescending as hell to him. He’s passive aggressive. Everyone looks at you like ‘I don’t get them.’”
“Who’s everyone?”
“Everyone.”
I pointed to a homeless guy. “Him? He has an opinion?”
“You know what I mean.”
“And so do you. Y’know what, Lor? Let’s walk away now. You’re upset at me over g-d knows what, and now you’re attacking me. I’ve known you for 24 years…”
“What does that mean?”
“It means I’d like to know you for 25. And today has gone bad since I walked in. And now I’m walking out.” And I walked away.
“Jessica….”
I just waved. I was angry. And upset. I walked to Barnes and Noble and tried to focus on a book but couldn’t. So, I went to the magazine section and started flipping through magazines. I saw an In Style with Zoeey Deschanel on the cover. Jess always parted her hair in the middle. I don’t know why but I decided I needed a change and thought ‘maybe I’ll try bangs.’ OK, I was becoming such a girl.
I called Jess’ hairstylist and luckily she had an appointment an hour later, so I decided to walk down.
I walked past Pookie and Sebastian again. The dress called to me, so I went in. “Hi,” I said to the salesgirl. “The dress in the window. Do you have it in a 10?”
She brought one over and I tried it on. I came out and she said, “THAT is swimming on you. Let’s try an eight.”
I tried it on and it fit perfectly. My shoulders looked amazing. It fell to mid-thigh. I kept looking at myself in the mirror from side to side. I was a size eight! A month and a half ago, I was a twelve. And now I’m an eight!
The clerk said, “That looks amazing. What made you think you were a ten?”
I blushed and said, “I’m sorry. I’ve been working out a lot lately. I’ve lost sixteen pounds. I’ve been working out. But…”
She filled in, “I know. The mind takes a while to catch up to the body. We’ve all been there. You should be proud. You look terrific and you’ve earned it. Show it off.”
She was smart. I left not only with the dress, but a couple of really cute tops. Yes, I said cute tops. See, I paid attention.
Anthropologie was on the way down. I walked in and found the dress. “Excuse me,” I said to the clerk, “but do you have this in an eight?” I was owning it.
I tried it on and I felt…pretty. It was long and flowing and showed off just enough of my shoulders to be flirty. G-d help me, but I liked it. I liked feeling feminine. I bought it, along with the velvet peasant dress. It was an A-line and a raspberry floral print. It had blue piping around the neck and waist It was mid-thigh and it buttoned at the neck to just below my collarbone. I tried it on and it was, for a lack of better word, flowy. I kept looking at it on the website and knew I’d love it. I did.
I left feeling on top of the world. I had put Lori out of my mind and was having a great day regardless. I went to Caryn, the stylist. Jess had been going to her for years.
“Ohmigawd, look at you. You look amazing.”
“Why, thank you.” It was nice to get a compliment, especially after brunch.
“Dan must be all over you.”
“Stop.”
“So, what are we doing today?”
“How do you think I’d look with bangs?”
She held her finger to my brow, and said, “Cute. With the weight loss, I think you’d look cute. Maybe try layering too.”
I didn’t know what layering was but I knew Jess had been going to her for years and trusted her. So I said, “Sure. Layering sounds great.”
When she was finished, I looked, not to brag, adorable. My whole face looked different. I may have been imagining it but I swear more guys gave me the once over. I made sure not to flirt. I also noticed women looking me up and down. I couldn’t wait to show Jess when she got home.
I got home and was looking at myself in the mirror. I loved my new look but something was missing. Then I thought, “This haircut is drawing attention to my eyes. I have nice eyes. They need to pop.” The fact that I thought that scared me. Then I thought, “I always noticed women’s eyes. I guess I never thought about the process before.” I wiped off my eyeliner and started playing. I used a darker eyeliner and a little more mascara. And guess what? My eyes popped.
I was trying on the cocktail dress again when Jess came in. “Hey, honey, I’m home.” How clichéd.
“I’m in here,” I said.
She walked in.
“How do I look?”
“Wow,” she said flatly.
“Wow? That’s what I get?”
“No, you look amazing. It’s just…” and he stared at the floor.
“What?”
“Nothing.”
“It’s not nothing. If it was nothing, you wouldn’t be staring at the floor.”
“What did you do to your hair? Your eyes?”
“I decided to get a haircut. I thought bangs would look cute. And Caryn suggested layering. I think it’s cute. Don’t you?”
“Cute?”
“Yes, cute?”
“And your eyes?”
“I came home and thought the haircut draws attention to my eyes. So I wanted them to pop. I don’t look like a raccoon or a slut, do I?”
“What?” She looked horrified.
“What? What’s wrong?”
“It’s hard to explain.”
I sat down next to her. “Try.”
“It’s complicated.”
“You don’t like the outfit? The makeup? I can change.”
“I could never wear that,” she said.
“You’d look ridiculous in it.” I laughed.
“No. I could never wear it. When I was Jessica. And you knew what I meant.” And she started to cry. I felt awful seeing her cry.
“I was kidding,” I said, sitting next to her.
She moved away. “I’M NOT!” She sobbed, “I look at you and I feel like you’re slapping me in the face.”
“What?” I didn’t understand.
“My husband is standing here wearing a pretty dress and is talking about bangs and his eyes popping…I feel…lost.”
“What do you mean?”
“I’m losing my identity. I mean I lost myself and now I’m losing you.” Then she was sobbing.
“You’re not losing me. We’re still us. We’re just a different version. But I’ll take everything off. I won’t wear makeup. I’ll wear pants. I just thought it was pretty and you’d like it“.
“That’s just it,” she said, gasping. “I’m floundering and you’re just perfect. You get it. You’ve adapted.”
I laughed, “Are you serious?”
“Yeah, you wanted to lose weight. So you lost weight.”
“So did you.”
“Yeah, well, it’s easier as a guy…”
“Tell me about it. I have the wind burns to prove it,” I said, smiling.
“And look at you. That dress is perfect. It works perfectly on you.”
“It works on you too. I mean it will, if we change back. Now you’d just stretch it.”
“It works for you, not me,” she said, smiling.
“It works on me, but not you? Even though we’re the same person. I don’t get it”
“t’s your style, not mine.”
“I still don’t understand.”
“You’re you and I’m me. And I love you for that. That dress is you. I can’t explain it. You were an English major. That’s an English major dress.”
“An English major dress? That is so lame.”
She laughed, “Anyway. It’s like you’re totally cool with this.”
“I wouldn’t say that I’m cool with it. We’re in Holland. And I think it’s control. I’ve lost everything I had too. Plus I get to be smaller and weaker and treated like a second class citizen and a piece of meat on top of it. I don’t even want to start on this morning. What can I control? Whether I exercise. How I look. What I wear. That’s it. I’m sorry if my style bothers you. Tell you what? You shop for me from now on. I’ll return this.”
“No you won’t,” she said, smiling. “That dress is you. You are that dress. You have a great sense of style.”
“Seriously though, what’s wrong?”
“My day sucked.”
I started to say, “Mine too,” but stopped. “What’s wrong?”
“I don’t know. Everything.”
“Meaning? Be a little more specific,” I said, kissing her on the cheek. She had stubble. It tickled.
“It started with my mother.”
“But it was a short conversation?”
“I know. That’s it. I hate listening to her ramble on and bad mouth my father, but now that she didn’t do it, I miss it. Like you don’t know what you have until it’s gone? You know?”
“I mean, not really on the one hand, but I guess I get it. It’s what you’re used to, I suppose.”
“Yeah. And basketball sucked.”
“Why? What happened?”
“So we go to Riverside and we’re playing three on three and I suck. I can’t hit a shot. Do you usually?”
“I mean, I’m not in the NBA, but for a thirty-three year-old Jewish guy, I’m above average. Slightly”.
“Well, I can’t hit any shots, and they start making fun of my form.”
“Let me see.”
“What?”
“Show me your stroke.”
She reached over for my thigh. “Ha ha. You know what I mean.” I mean I wanted that stroke, but not now.
She stood up and mimicked her shot. It was all pushing from the chest, like a girl.
I put my head in my hands, “Oh G-d. That’s awful. You look like a girl. If we change back, I hope they don’t remember.” That was the first time I ever thought ‘if,’ not ‘when.’
She got frustrated. “Well, what am I supposed to do?”
I stood up and showed her. I tried to show her, but “Stupid boobs. Getting in my way.”
She laughed, “Boy I shoot like I have them, and you shoot like you don’t. Anyway, then one of the guys fouled me…”
“OK, did you bleed?”
“No. So what?”
“No blood no foul. So what happened?”
“One of them banged into me and knocked me to the ground, and I said, ‘You had to do that?’” I said.
“You had to do that,” I said, in a sing songy voice.
She got annoyed. “That’s what he did too. Then he said, ‘Can’t handle it? Get off the court, pussy,” which we pissed me off. So I said, “Fuck you. Want a piece of me?”
“Have you been watching bad 80s movies again?” I said. “Then what?”
“We got into a fight.”
“A fight fight? Or a Jewboy pushing fight?”
She looked at the ground, “Well, I thought it was a fight.”
“Anyway, next time, just say, when he fouls you, ‘that the best you got?’ or ‘you foul like you play’ or something like that?”
“See I don’t know that.”
“We both got that today.”
“Sorry. I wasn’t trying to compare.”
“I know. There’s just some shit you learn. How was lunch?”
“The Badgers won.” I had graduated from Wisconsin and told Jess from the beginning that, if we were going to date, Wisconsin football was a prerequisite. I taught her everything she needed to know about football.
“Cool. I missed it.”
“Well, you were getting your hair done,” she said, with a smile.
I started to get annoyed, but said, “You may just roll out of bed, but this,” I said, waving my hand up and down, “takes work. How was lunch?”
“It was great. We just watched the game and ate. That is great. I can eat wings and nachos and no one has to analyze, and hear everyone else, analyze how many calories and how they could never eat it and how the weight would never come off. There are some good things about being a guy. How was Lori?”
“Torture.” I related the whole story. “I mean, first, there’s the ordering…”
“Orwasher’s cinnamon raisin challah French toast with the cannoli cream filling and the vanilla glaze…OK, I know it’s annoying but what else?”
When I told her the Steven saga, she said, “oh g-d. You can’t do that.”
“I was just trying to help.”
“I know. She didn’t want help. She wanted validation.”
“That’s ridiculous.”
“And she pushed me to order pancakes.”
“And you stuck with egg whites. Good for you. I don’t think I could have.”
“It’s the control thing. I wasn’t going to let her sabotage me. I like the way I look and feel.”
“Good for you. And you look absolutely amazing. Where did you get that?”
“Pookie and Sebastian…”
She smiled. “Pookie and Sebastian. I can see that.” I let that go. “What made you decide on bangs?”
“Promise you won’t laugh?”
“Promise.”
“After I left Lori, I went to Barnes and Noble I was so frustrated that I couldn’t focus on a book. So I went to the magazines and saw Zoeey Deschanel on one. I thought it would look cute.”
“Great call. You look adorable. Prettier than Zoeey Deschanel. They are perfect for you.”
I blushed, “Really?”
“Really. And your eyes?”
“Seriously? You like them.”
“Yeah, I do. You look beautiful. What made you do that?”
“I looked at myself and thought I had pretty eyes and the bangs drew attention to them, so why not see how it looked?”
She shook her head. “When you want control, you take control. Did you buy anything else?”
“I did.”
“Let me guess. Anthropologie?”
I blushed, “Yes. Want to see?”
“Of course.”
I took off the dress and hung it up carefully. I tried on the velvet dress. I gave a twirl. “How does it look?”
“Another great choice. What size is it?”
“An eight. Can you believe it?”
She smiled. “You go girl! I can’t remember the last time I was an eight.”
“Is that OK? I didn’t mean to wave it in your face.”
“Waving what? You’ve worked hard. So have I. I’m at 210.”
I leaned over and kissed her on the cheek. “And I’m proud of you too.”
“Thanks. That dress is terrific. What else?”
I tried on the maxi dress. I don’t know why, but I blushed.
“Wow.”
“Good wow or bad wow?”
“Good wow. Is that THE dress?”
“Yes,” I said, still blushing.
“I see why you loved it so much. That dress is so you. It is demure and feminine. You look like a princess. Sorry, does that bother you?”
I answered honestly. “No. Does that bother you?”
She smiled. “I wouldn’t have said it if it did. It’s gorgeous. You’re gorgeous. You’re not just a princess. You’re my princess.”
“Stop…” I didn’t want her to stop though. “So, I was thinking of the lace dress for tonight.”
“Hmmm. It may be a little much for dinner with Jon and Sammie. Go with the velvet. It shows off all your hard work and I want Jon to be jealous,” she said, grinning. “You really like Anthropologie, huh?”
“Yes. Does that bother you?”
“No. I just had no idea you liked such feminine things. How come you never said anything before?
“I always liked what you wore. It wasn’t my place to say anything. Besides, you would have ripped my head off.”
She smiled, “True.”
“But, you’re OK with me?”
“Like I said, those dresses are you. And I love you.”
“I love you too,” I said, giving her a deep kiss.
We met our friends Jon and Samantha at the restaurant. Jon and Sammie lived in Brooklyn, Windsor Terrace, so it always took a little more effort to get together. We met at Miramar, a seafood and steak place on the water in Battery Park City. It was close to half way between us. I wore the velvet dress with a pair of blue sandals with beading on the straps and a 2” heel. I wore Jess’ diamond flower earrings and a mother of pearl Alhambra pendant that I bought her at Van Cleef and Arpels. I dabbed on a little perfume.
“Are you sure I look OK?”
She squeezed my hand. “You look gorgeous. And it’s Jon and Sammie.”
When we got to the restaurant, Sammie came over and gave me a big hug and kiss. “Oh my g-d, Jess, you look positively amazing. Doesn’t she, Jon?” Jon smiled and nodded. I realized what her type was. Someone who didn’t talk too much. “How much have you lost?”
“Sixteen pounds. I want to lose another twenty.”
“Oh my god no! You’ll be gaunt.”
“Let’s see.”
“I love that dress. Is it new?”
“Yes, I bought it today. At Anthropologie.”
“Well, it looks perfect. I love it.” Sammie was about 5’7” with black hair and green eyes. She was usually about 135 lbs. I felt like a bitch, but she looked a little puffy today. She was wearing a green sheath with low black heels which was unusual. She wore flats most of the time but, if we went to dinner, it was usually 3” heels. Jon was about 6’3” so Sammie said she wore heels so she ‘didn’t look like she was in a hole next to him.’ “Also, I love the bangs. They are so perfect on you. Don’t you think so, guys?”
Jon looked confused. Jess said, “Like Zoeey Deschanel. But prettier.”
“Nice move Dan,” Jon said.
“Thank you,” I said, “You look amazing. Did you do something with your makeup? You look beautiful.”
“Don’t I always?”
“Of course. Subbies rule.” The subbies were the bunk she was in when we met.
“And boys drool,” she said, finishing the chant that they used that whole summer. 12 year old me found that annoying. 33 year old me figured it made sense.
We sat down at the table and chatted about work for a while. I told Sammie about Lori and she shook her head, “Why are you still friends with her?”
I parroted Jess. “She’s not that bad…”
“She’s trying to sabotage you. But it’s your call. But, whatever you do, don’t let her do that. You are doing great!” That was one of the reasons I loved Sammie. No matter what, she was always your cheerleader. She wouldn’t hesitate to tell you if she thought you were wrong or being a jackass (she used that one a lot with me), but she was always right next to you when you needed her. “Pilates? I’ve never tried it.”
“You should totally come with me. It’s amazing.”
What she said next surprised me, “I need to get permission…” Sammie never asked permission from anyone. My father called her, with pure affection, Sammie the Bull. He told Jon that he was in for it.
“Permission? From who?”
She smiled, “My obstetrician…” I felt like a total jerk for thinking she looked puffy.
I paused. “Oh..My..G-d! Seriously?” She nodded. I cupped my hands over my mouth. “That is so amazing. Mazel tov!” Jess and I got up and gave her and Jon big hugs and kisses. I involuntarily teared up. The words spilled out. “So, how far along are you? How are you feeling? Have you had a sonogram yet? Do you know what it is? No, probably not…”
Everyone laughed. “Calm down, Jessie,” Sammie said. “Let me speak.”
“I’m sorry. I’m just so happy for you. You look beautiful.” My hands were together.
“Thanks. Now to answer your questions, three months. The morning sickness has passed, although I still can’t stand the smell of melon. We’ve had a sonogram. Everything,” and she knocked on the table, “is fine. And no we don’t know. Not yet at least.”
Jon said, “I don’t know that we want to know.” Sammie gave him a look that said, ‘you don’t. I do.’ They’d know. I knew my Sammie.
I teared up. “I’m sorry. I am so happy. I’m going to be an aunt,” I blurted out, hugging her again. I just felt the need to hug her. Jess looked at me and smiled. “Sorry, that was forward of me.”
Sammie gave me a look. “Are you kidding? You better be Aunt Jessica.”
I smiled. “You can’t stop me. You’re having a baby.” I had no idea why I was so excited over this. I mean she was my friend forever. And they were the first of my friends to have one. And they seemed really happy. But I was just so overwhelmingly, inexplicably happy. “So have you started looking at baby stuff?”
Jess laughed. “That’s my Jess. Focusing on the important stuff.”
Sammie laughed, “Dan, stop. That’s our Jessica. We were going to go tomorrow.”
Jon said, “You can take my place if you want. Be the scouting party for me.”
Sammie said, “Do you want to?”
I felt a real desire to go. “If you want me.”
“I want no one else.”
“Is that OK, Dan?”
Jess smiled. “Of course. Wanna watch the Giants, Jon?”
Jon moved his hands up and down, like scales. “Cribs..football..cribs…football.”
The rest of dinner went by in a blur. Sammie and I talked about the baby and how she was feeling. She wasn’t sure when she’d go back to work. She said that she knew that she wanted to. She was a producer on “Good Morning America,” with a focus on consumer affairs.
She asked me a question that threw me. “Do you think you will?”
“I will what?”
“Go back when you have a baby.”
“Um, do you know something I don’t?”
“I mean obviously you’re going to have a baby.”
“I’m surprised to hear you of all people say that.”
“That’s not what I meant. No one has to. Most people who do shouldn’t.” That was classic Sammie. Right and to the point. “But you love kids and would be amazing. Wouldn’t she Dan?”
Jess smiled. “I think so.” I paused. I suddenly pictured being pregnant. Me as Jess, not Jess as Jess. And I wasn’t sure what I felt.
I went with, “we’ve only been married five years. We haven’t been to Spain yet.” That’s what I came up with? Spain?
“So go to Spain,” she said. “But you’ll be great.”
“Thanks, Sammie. So will you.”
We finished dinner. We walked along for a little bit when Sammie said, “I apologize. But I’m really tired. Jess, I’ll see you tomorrow at noon? Bye Bye Baby on 25th?”
“Boy, you’d think you were knocked up or something,” I said, giving her a hug and kiss. I leaned down and said to her stomach, “Sorry about that, baby.”
We walked into the apartment.
"They seem really happy. I'm so happy for them," I said.
"Really? You wouldn't know...you were so cute," Jess said. "The," and she mimicked the hands over the mouth. "And the squeaking and the babbling questions. You were adorable."
"I am sooo embarrassed. The whole restaurant must think I'm such a dork..." I said, as I took off my shoes and then the dress.
"They think you're a girl who was happy for her friend...Aunt Jessica."
"Stop. I feel ridiculous enough."
"Don't," she said, kissing my neck. "You smell great."
"Dior."
She smiled. "Good choice. I like it."
"That's why I wear it. What did she mean by obviously? And why were you egging her on?"
"I wasn't egging her on."
"You were smiling."
"Uh huh..."
"What do you think she meant?"
"I don't think she meant anything by it. She just assumed we were going to have kids. It's not a secret that you like them. Everyone always told me how you'd be a great dad. So it's logical you'd be a great mom," she said, looking bemused.
"She's never said that before."
"She was never pregnant before?"
"If she had been, do you think she would've said it to Dan? Like obviously you're having kids, you'd be a great dad?"
"Don't take it so personally. She meant it as a compliment. You would be a great mom," she said, kissing my neck again.
"So would you."
"Maybe. I wonder sometimes."
"Does it bother you? Sammie being pregnant?"
"No, why should it?"
"I don't know. Maybe it made you think. Made me think."
She put her hand on mine. "It's their time. When it's ours, it'll be ours.". Then, she surprised me, "Are you OK with it? I saw you touching your stomach through dinner. Were you thinking about it?"
"Yes," I said, looking down. "Were you?"
Now she looked down. "Not about me, no.'
"I''m embarrassed."
"Don't be. Like I said before, you're a girl with girl parts. And girl hormones. It's OK."
I didn't ask whether she ever thought about it before. I didn't want to know the answer. It was enough that I knew mine. I started to tear up.
She kissed me again, gently. "I'm going to keep saying it. I love you, no matter how you look. Whether you look like me or you look like you," she said, wiping my tears
"Promise?"
"Promise."
"If I lost my hair?"
"If you lost your hair."
"If I gained fifty pounds?"
"If you gained fifty pounds."
"Together", I said with a smile.
"But then you'd be a bald fat woman." I swatted him. "I have a reputation, you know."
Then she leaned over and kissed me on the neck. I turned around and we kissed. She unhooked my bra and had me lie down. She began by kissing my collarbone. Then she started sucking my nipples, which she usually did. Then she started gently kissing my stomach, which she usually didn't. Her stubble tickled and I liked the way I felt. When she kissed my thighs, I moaned and said, "Now please.."
"Ride 'em cowgirl?". This was our joke for girl on top. Since I became Jess, I understood why she liked it sometimes. It was fun being in control.
"No. You on top".
She put on a condom. I knew that was the right thing to do but part of me wondered what happened if it broke. What that would mean. While we were having sex, a fleeting thought crossed my mind. I pictured her sperm meeting my egg and I smiled. I swear I saw the same look cross her face right before she came.
"That was great," she said, rolling off me. She started kissing my belly again. "This doesn't bother you, does it?"
"Not at all."
"Good," she said, smiling.
“You really were so cute tonight.”
“Thanks,” I said sarcastically.
“I mean it.”
“What were you thinking about tonight?”
“They’ll do great. They seem really happy. They must be scared. I’d be scared.”
“Nothing else? What about when she said ‘obviously you’re having a baby?’” There. I put it out there. Jess and I had talked about it. We knew we wanted kids, sometimes. I won’t lie. I liked kids. I loved my nephew Tuck. Jess said people always looked at her like, ‘why won’t you give Dan a kid?’
“She was just talking.”
“You smiled.”
“And?”
“What did that mean?”
“It was funny. Your look was priceless. And ‘we’ve never been to Spain’? I had no idea you wanted to go to Spain.”
“Nothing else?”
“I mean I guess, when I saw you there, looking pretty and gushing over a baby,” she paused, which worried me, “a thought crossed into my head of,” and she stopped. “ I’m sorry. Is that weird?”
“A little. I think I had the same thought. Does that scare you?”
“No. I have to tell you something. When you were talking to her about everything, you kept touching your stomach.”
“Meaning?”
“You were thinking about it, weren’t you?”
“Maybe.” I started to cry. “I’m sorry.”
She looked genuinely surprised. “For what?”
“We will never be the same. Will we? If we change back, you’re going to divorce me,” I bawled. I felt ashamed.
She looked shocked. “Why would you ever say that?”
“You’ll never be able to look at me. You’ll want a real man.”
“I want YOU. I wanted YOU then. And I want YOU now. And I’ll want YOU if we change. I love YOU. A real man can be romantic and love kids. You know how many people have told me how lucky I’d be to have you as a…parent with me? And they’re right. More important - will you be OK?”
“With what?”
“I..nothing.” I knew what she was thinking. Would I be OK if she got pregnant?
I thought about it for a second, “Yes. I’d be thrilled. We’d be having a baby. Our baby. Would you…”
She interrupted me and smiled. “Yes. You’d be so cute. I can totally see you with a little baby bump,” she said, kissing my stomach. “You’d probably be better at it than me.”
“Stop. You’d be amazing.”
“We’ll see someday, I guess,” she said, kissing me.
I fell asleep and had the weirdest dream. I was pregnant but it was me Dan, not me Jessica. But the weird thing was that no one thought it was strange. My sister talked about what was happening to me. Sammie was excited that "we were going to be mommies together.". People gave up seats for me on the train. My breasts swelled and my legs hurt. And it was perfectly normal.
I woke up the next morning. I had put on a pink nightie after we made love.
Jess smiled, “Look at you. Pretty in pink. I don’t remember you putting that on?”
“That’s because you fell asleep,” I laughed.
She lowered her voice, “Uh, sorry. Seriously though, you look amazing.”
“Thanks.”
“Are you OK?”
I knew what she meant. “Yeah. I am. I guess whatever will be, will be. How about you?”
“I am. I’m sorry if I went somewhere…”
“You didn’t go there alone. Are you OK? With me?”
“Of course. I’ll keep saying it. I love you, no matter who you are. I liked my basketball playing, football watching Dan. And I love my pretty feminine Jess. And I’ll never hold either against you.”
I kissed her. “I love you too”. I still wasn’t sure I fully believed her.
We went to eat breakfast before I went to meet Sammie. I was getting dressed. I put on one of the tops I bought at Pookie and Sebastian. It was a light grey acrylic v neck with an open shoulder and laces at the end of the sleeves. I was putting on a pair of jeans when Jess called me over.
She stuck her hand in the waistband. “Those are too big on you,” she said, reaching into the top of her closet. “Put these on.” They were skinny jeans. Size eight. They fit perfectly.
“Up there is my skinny pile,” she laughed. “Every girl has one. You should know where it is. I think you need to go shopping.”
“I can’t believe I heard myself say that.”
She laughed. “You need new clothes. I noticed it the other day. Your work stuff is starting to look frumpy.”
“Frumpy?” I mock pouted. “Seriously? Cool. Can’t I get stuff taken in?”
“It’s harder to cut women’s clothes like that. Depending on when you and Sammie get done, maybe we’ll go shopping. Find stuff that works for you and me, in case we change back.” I didn’t even have to ask what she meant. I put on a pair of her black Sam Edelman boots and put in her diamond studs. I then put on a long 3 strand blue quartz and lapis necklace. “You look beautiful,” she said. “That looks so much better on you than me.”
“Aren’t we the same person?”
“You know…” I knew what she meant.
After breakfast, we took the F to cab to 23rd and 6th. While we were waiting for the train, she said, “I love you, Jess.”
“I love you too, Dan. What brought that on?”
“I’m looking at you and I just realized how much I love you. You’re sweet and adorable and I love you. I’m lucky to have you.”
I blushed, “Thank you. I’m not sure what brought it on but I’ll certainly take it. I’m lucky too.”
We met Jon and Sammie at 23rd and 6th. Jess and Jon went to look for a bar. “Call when you’re done,” Jon said.
Sammie said, “I’m so excited for this. Is that weird?”
I smiled, “No! I’m excited too.” And I was. And I didn’t know why. We walked arm in arm, the way that women can and men (well, straight men) can’t. It felt good. We started talking. “So, how’s Jon doing with it?”
“He’s great. I think he was scared. He kept singing that old 80s song. You know, ‘you may find yourself living a shack…You may say to yourself, ‘my g-d, what have I done?’”
“Once in a Lifetime by the Talking Heads,” I said.
“How did you know that?” Well, somewhere in here, I’m a guy. “My dad used to play it in the car,” I lied. “How is he now?”
“He really is great. He’s totally there. Comes to all the appointments.”
“How about you? How are you feeling?”
“I don’t know. I’m excited. I’m scared. I mean, this is for real. This is adulthood. Everyone keeps telling me it’s the hardest job you’ll ever have. They say you’ll love it but what if the baby comes and I don’t like it?” I couldn’t imagine Jess and Jon were talking about the same thing.
“Stop. You’ll love it. And you’ll be great. I mean, come on, Laura,” my older sister, “did it. And Tuck seems fine. I mean, other than having Laura and Jeremy as parents.”
“Luckily he has a great aunt,” she said, pulling me a little closer. “You’ll help me, right? You’ll come to Brooklyn if I need you, right? I mean since my mom’s in Florida, right?”
“Of course I will. Whenever you need me, I’m there. How is Ruth doing?”
“You know. She’s thrilled. She keeps asking for pictures. But she keeps with all the old wives’ tales. ‘Don’t lift your hands over your head.’ ‘Don’t go running.’ When I told her that I was going to tell you, she said, ‘why are you telling so soon,’ and then she spat three times,” she said, rolling her eyes.
“She’s just nervous,” I said. “You’re not supposed to lift your arms?”
“Apparently. I’m sorry about last night.”
“For what?”
“For saying obviously.”
“I didn’t think twice about it. I knew what you meant. It just threw me. I mean here I am losing all this weight and you want me to get fat….”
She laughed. “I mean you would be an amazing mother.”
I blushed, “Thank you. I’m not so sure,” thinking, ‘I don’t know what I’m going to be when the time comes.’
“Please. You are the sweetest girl I know. Do you guys ever talk about it? Is there a problem? Can you?”
I was amazed at how women could ask each other that. Guys would never acknowledge the problem. “There are no problems as far as I know. We’ve talked about it. We were talking about it last night actually…thanks.”
“Sorry,” she laughed.
“It’s fine,” I smiled.
“And?”
I blushed and said, “We’ll see. Can I ask you something? What does it feel like?”
She smiled, “At first, it’s weird. Your period doesn’t come and you take the test and you find out. And it’s like there’s this thing inside of you. And it’s scary. You have this thing in you. And you get sick and you’re tired. But now, it’s like there’s a person inside of me. A little person inside of me. My little person,” she said, tearing up. “Sorry, that was so lame.”
I teared up too. “It’s not lame,” I said, touching my stomach. “It sounds amazing. Do you feel anything yet?”
“Like kicking? No? Not for a couple of months. But, I definitely feel something.”
“Would it be weird if I touched your belly? I mean that’s weird.”
She smiled, “It isn’t weird Jess. I love you.”
I touched her belly and leaned down, “Hi Baby. I’m your aunt Jessica. That other aunt, Mitchell’s wife, she’s not as cool an aunt as me. I love you, little baby.”
Sammie laughed, “You are soooo gay, Jessie. Cute but gay.”
We went into a bunch of stores and started looking at cribs.
“What do you think of this one?”
It was dark wood. “I don’t know. It seems dark. A baby’s room should be bright. What about this one? With the neutral one, you can do anything. It works no matter what.”
“Interesting.”
I saw a wall border of teddy bears and trains. “This is so cute,” I squealed, not knowing where that came from. “What do you think?”
“That IS cute. If I have a boy, definitely.”
“And look at this.” It was a wall border of a little pink and yellow bunnies. From the depths of my memory, I remembered a book I had when I was little. It was called ‘Purple Rabbit.’ It was designed to teach you colors. “If you have a girl, you have to have this. I will buy it and come into your place and put it up if I have to. With these,” I said, holding up a little velvet party dress and shoes. I had no idea what was getting into me.
She smiled. “You are SO ready.” I must’ve looked surprised. “And so much more fun than Jon.
He’d be looking at his phone.”
“So would Dan.”
Sammie was trying out a glider, when a little boy, who looked to be about 16 months, came toddling by. I guessed sixteen months because he was running with that stiff legged drunken stagger toddlers just learning to walk had. He ran into my legs and looked up at me, like he was about to cry.
I bent down and offered my hand. “Ka-Boom,” I said. He started to laugh. “Ka-Boom. Ka-Boom. Ka-Boom.” He giggled with that pure laugh that little kids had. “You like that, huh?”
Just then, a very pregnant woman came up. “Liam! You can’t run away from mommy like that. I’m sorry miss.” I looked at her belly and started thinking.
“No apologies necessary. Liam just went ka-Boom!” He giggled and I giggled along with him.
She looked at me. “Irish twins,” she said, with a smile. “I don’t know what I was thinking.”
“Um, you’ll get done with toilet training fast?”
She laughed, “Thanks. Liam say bye bye to the nice lady.”
He smiled and waved his little hand. My heart melted. “Bye bye Liam.”
Sammie got up from the glider. “I hope I’m as good as you.”
“Stop…”
We were leaving the store when I saw a baby in a little fleece outfit. It was white and had little ears, so the baby looked like a little lamb. “Oh my g-d, he is so cute. A little lamb. Oh, I am definitely getting that for you.” Sammie and the mom exchanged glances and smiled.
She gave my hand a squeeze. “Thank you for coming Jessie.”
“Please. Stop. I wouldn’t have missed it.” I don’t know why but Lori came into my mind. “Can I ask you a question? And I need you to be honest.”
She laughed, “have I ever not been?”
“Jeremy Glickman.” Jeremy was the guy who asked Sammie to ask Jill if she liked me. I had no idea whether the name would mean anything under the current circumstances but figured it was worth a shot.
“We were 13! And I still maintain I was right,” she said, laughing. Jackpot. “Seriously, though, what?”
“Do Dan and I make sense? As a couple?”
“Where did that come from? Is everything OK? Did he do something? Is that why you got bothered yesterday?”
“No, it’s not that. Nothing’s wrong. It’s something Lori said.”
She looked annoyed. “You have got to be kidding me. We’re really going there?” I was tearing up when she said, “OK, OK. What did the fat bitch say?” I relayed the whole story.
“So she’s pissed at how good you look and then you try and offer some constructive criticism and she turns it back on you and you believe her? Come on.”
“I guess it triggered something in me. Like if somewhere in the back of your mind, if you wonder something and someone says something about that, you start to think about it. You still haven’t answered. Do we make sense?”
“Yes. You make sense. Are you perfect all the time? No. But are Jon and I? No. Come on. You and I are better than that. We’ve known forever that relationships take work. Dan’s annoying sometimes. And you can be harsh sometimes. But, no, I never thought that you two were wrong for each other. How long have you known me? Don’t you think I would’ve said something? Do you really think I would tell you to have a baby, even joking, if I thought that? After what I grew up with?” Her parents were divorced when she was 7.
“Thanks. Sorry.”
She hugged me. “You never have to apologize for asking me for help.” I was really beginning to love the way women comforted each other. “But, when will you realize Lori is toxic? Don’t you understand? She can’t be happy for you. She needs you to wallow with her. Don’t.”
“I won’t. You’re right. Thanks.”
“Please. Can I ask you something? What’s up?”
“What do you mean? Nothing’s wrong.” Other than the obvious. Which was starting to feel less wrong.
“Oh no. I didn’t mean something’s wrong. You just seem so much happier lately. You were adorable yesterday.”
“I was embarrassing…”
“No you weren’t. You were my friend. But it’s not just that. It was the outfit. You looked like you.”
“Who do I usually look like? Dan?”
“That’s not what I meant and you know it. I meant that the outfit was so cute and girly. And I love the bangs. Everyone knows Jess the lawyer. I know the Jess that’s here today. That, inside tough lawyer Jess is sweet pretty Jess. And now you’re letting it out. It’s great.”
I felt conflicted. On the one hand, did Sammie see Dan that way? Had she always? Is that what she meant by “not her type”? On the other hand, I started wondering if old Dan was fake and this was reality.
"Do I look OK?". We were going to my parents for Rosh Hashanah. I was wearing a blue v neck three quarter sleeve top with a black wool skirt that fell 2” above the knee and white Tory Burch espadrilles with a black toe. I was wearing a blue quartz necklace. I was down another 3 pounds. “Should I have worn the blue dress?”
“You are so adorable.”
"I’m serious. They haven't seen me like this."
"You look beautiful. Plus, it's not like you transitioned or something. As far as they know, you're the you that you always were. The only thing they haven't seen how amazing you look," she kissed me on the cheek.
"Thanks. I don't know why I'm nervous. This is my family. I'm Jessica."
My parents lived in New City, about twenty-five miles north of the city. My mother had asked that we stop at Rockland Bakery and pick up two cakes she had ordered. We walked in and I froze.
"Ohmigod," I whispered. "That's Angela Maresca.".
"You mean the one you took to prom and threw up on?" she said, barely suppressing a laugh.
"Very funny."
Angela saw me and broke into a huge smile. "Jessica? Jessica Richman? Oh my god, you look amazing!". She gave me a huge hug.
I relaxed. "Angela? You haven’t changed". My mother joked that everyone said that at her reunion and she said, “so we were all gray and bald in high school?” She had a little boy holding her hand, and a little girl on her hip. She still looked good, just tired.
She looked at the two kids and smiled, “I’ve changed a little. This is Michael, Jr. and this is Anna Maria."
"Hi, Michael, I'm Jessica. How old are you?". He held up three fingers. "Are you five?". He smiled and shook his head. "Six?" Bigger smile. "97?".
"No, I'm three!"
I theatrically shook my head. "You don't have to yell.". He laughed that pure laugh. "And who said you could bring your dog into a bakery," I said, pointing and smiling at the baby.
"That's not my dog."
"Who is it then?"
"MY SISTER," he yelled. "Her name is Anna Maria."
"After your mom?". Her mom loved me...well, until prom. Then she gave me a death stare when she saw me.
"I can't believe you remembered. You were always so smart." Jess started whistling.
"Oh, this is my husband Dan."
She hugged her too. "I'm a hugger," she said. "He's handsome.” Jess smiled. “Where do you live? What do you do?"
"I'm a lawyer. We live in the city.," I said
“I could see you as a lawyer.”
“Not sure how I take that. What about you?”
“I take care of these two. Do you have any kids?”
"In the car," Jess said. Angela looked shocked. Jess said, "we cracked the window.” Angela switched to worried. “Kidding, Angela. We didn't crack the window".
I rolled my eyes, “No kids yet.”
“Oh,” Angela said, sounding judgmental. Maybe that was me projecting but it felt like she thought that I was less for not having kids. Anna Maria started squirming. "Well, this one is fussing. Are you on Facebook? Friend me," she said, giving me a kiss. "Bye."
We got our cakes and went back to the car. Jess cracked up.
"What?"
"The look on your face..."
"I was nervous."
"That's the hilarious part. You're not Dan. You're Jess. I'm Dan and I'm no one. Some other guy puked on her... maybe. You're just the smart girl from high school."
That made me stop. I had been like this for almost three months, but I hadn't been home. My parents usually came in for dinner. I had only seen people that I saw regularly. I never had to face my past like that.
We walked in. It was weird. There were childhood pictures on the walls – camp, school, trips, etc. Everyone was the same, except I saw Jessica aging across them. She and I looked at each other and shuddered.
I saw my nephew Tucker, who was two and a half. He and I had a game where I would pick him up, turn him upside and ask him for money. He'd say, "I don't have any," and I'd shake him. He had no idea what money was but thought this was hysterical.
He came running over...and ran right past me. "Unca Danny!" He screamed as Jess flipped him, then put him right side up. He laughed along with Jess. That laugh belonged to me.
"Hey Tucker? Do I get anything?"
Jess held him to me. He blew a slobbery kiss on my face and said, “Hi, Messy,” then “again, again” to Dan.
My sister Laura came over and kissed me. “Tucker and Dan have something…you’re not being fair to Dan.’” she said, in an exaggerated version of my aunt Vivian’s accent.
“I don’t think it’s good for Tucker to be an only child.”
“Funny.” She looked me up and down. “Wow. You look amazing. How much now?”
“Sixteen pounds.”
“You look great. Seriously. Those shoes are really cute. Can I borrow them sometime?” It felt funny for her to ask me to borrow clothes.
“Sure. Thanks. So who’s coming?”
“The Richardses.” The Richardses were our neighbors. Michelle and I had been friends, since they moved to the neighborhood when I was seven. Everyone was always surprised that we were friends, first because we were boy and girl and then, as we were older, when Michelle came out. I didn’t care. She was my friend.
I laughed, “It wouldn’t be a holiday without them. Who else?”
“Don’t you talk to mom?” She would never have asked this before I became Jess. It was assumed that I didn’t. “Anyway, the Bernsteins. Aunt Helene and Jordan, the Bernsteins, Uncle Simon and the girl,” she said, making ‘air quotes.’ This was our joke. Uncle Simon was my grandfather’s brother. He was 90 and had a health aide, Celia, who was on the north side of sixty. He still referred to as “the girl.” This was a family joke. I called it “the adorable racism of the elderly.” Jess and my mother disagreed. They called it “adorable sexism.”
I smiled. “Can it be…”
“Nope, he’s coming,” she sighed. No explanation was necessary. ‘He’ was my mom’s first cousin Matty. Matty was an asshole. Everyone thought Matty was an asshole, including my mother.
“Oh boy. And with the election too…”
Just then, my mom came over and looked me up and down.
“I’m not sure how I feel about this outfit,” she said, as Laura stood behind her, mouthing that.
I was a little thrown. As Dan, this hadn’t been a problem since I was 12 and even then, it was just ‘change your shirt. It’s stained.’
“Um, OK, mom. What would you like me to do about that?”
“Nothing. I’m just saying.” ‘I’m just saying’ was my mother’s favorite line. ‘I’m not going to insult you outright. I’m just going to say something and, if you take it as an insult, that’s on you.’ No dinner with my parents was complete without Jess ranting afterwards about ‘I’m just saying.’ “You’ve decided to keep the bangs.” Laura rolled her eyes.
“Yes, mom. You asked that last time. I’m keeping them until I get old like you.” Laura pursed her lips and mouthed ‘oooh.’
“Fine, be that way,” she pouted. That was not the response that I expected. I used to make comments like that all the time and she would roll her eyes, laugh and ask Jess how she dealt with me. “I need you in the kitchen.”
We went into the kitchen. “Start making the salad, and then I need you to mash the potatoes.” Normally, I’d ask if I could help and she would tell me to sit with my father.
“So, Matty is coming…”
“Yes. Of course, he is. What would you like me to do? Grandma Rosie would have wanted this.” This was my mother’s go-to line. My grandmother, who died when I was seventeen, was one of the kindest people you ever met. She would always give to everyone she saw on the street, would never let someone be alone on holidays and never had a bad word to say about anyone. Even Matty. Him, she’d say, “you never met Tante (Yiddish for aunt) Irene,” Matty’s mother. ‘If you knew Irene, it makes sense.” When my mother wanted you to do something, she’d use Grandma.
I sighed. “He’s such a jerk, ma.”
“That’s just who he is.”
“Why is that an excuse? If he killed someone, would you say that?”
“Don’t be melodramatic.”
Just then, my father came into the kitchen and gave me a hug and a kiss. “You don’t come in and say hello to your daddy?” I hadn’t called him daddy since I couldn’t remember.
I decided to play it up. “Daddy!” I said, giving him a big hug and kiss.
“OK, OK, how’s everything? How’s work?” OK, at least this was getting back to normal. Conversations with my father went as follows – ‘How are you? How’s Jess? How’s work? You see the game?’ It didn’t matter what game. Any game would do. When I was in college, it went ‘How are you? How’s the school? How’s the car? Getting laid? They didn’t look good against [fill in name of opponent]. Here’s your mother.’
“Work’s good. Busy. I’m working on a new case involving a building on 23rd Street. They oversold units and now the AG is involved and…”
“That’s great. Your mother tells me the Bull is pregnant?”
“I was in the middle of a sentence.”
“Sorry. I just remembered that. How is she doing?”
“She’s fine. Tired. Goes to the bathroom a lot. But fine. Anyway, as I was saying,” and I started to finish my story. I could tell he wasn’t listening. He had the same look on his face that I would apparently get when someone was telling a story that bored me. “You know what dad? We have things to do in here and you’re in the way. Go back in the living room.” He left.
“What was that, Jessica?” my mother said.
“What was what?”
“You interrupted your father and then sent him away.”
“I interrupted him? I was in mid-sentence and he interrupted me. Then, when I went to finish, he wasn’t listening, so I sent him out.”
“He’s excited about Sammie. I would think you would be too.”
“I’m very excited about Sammie. I told you how excited I got. But it doesn’t mean it’s the only topic of conversation.”
“Fine. How is she anyway? I spoke to Ruth. She said it looks like she’s having a boy.”
“If, by that, you mean she’s carrying in front, then yeah sure.”
“All around means boy. In front is a girl.”
“Well, I think, based on the way she looks and the way she’s walking, that she’s having…a baby. She agrees, by the way.”
My mother laughed, “Funny, Jess.” While we made dinner, she and I had a conversation about everything. I mean everything. She told me about how she and her friends were planning a trip into the city to go to an exhibit at the Metropolitan Museum. She went into mind-numbing detail about who was driving, what they were seeing, where they’d eat (‘because you know how picky Joyce gets’).
After five minutes, she looked at me and said, “Am I boring you, Jessica?”
“Excuse me?”
“Am I boring you?”
Busted. “No, of course not. I was just thinking about…”
“I’m sorry that my story isn’t interesting as yours. Keep an eye on the soup. I’m going to the garage to get some soda. Shop Rite had a sale.”
“Ma,” I said, to her back, as she walked away. I looked at the soup. Still soup.
I was stirring absent-mindedly when Laura came in, “What did you say to her?”
“Nothing. I didn’t say anything. She was droning on and I must’ve looked bored and she got upset.”
She laughed. “So then we were trying to decide whether to get Serafina or go to Sarabeth’s. I like both but Ruth went to the doctor and…” We both started giggling. “So, how’s everything?”
“Good. Crazy busy. New case came in. What’s with dad?”
“What’s with dad what?”
“I was telling him about the case and he interrupts me and starts asking about Sammie.”
“And?” That response surprised me.
“And what’s up with that?”
“He wants a grandchild.”
“What’s Tucker?”
“I mean he wants one from you. You’re his favorite.” I was surprised by this.
“No, I’m not. He doesn’t like either of us.” This was his line when we were kids and asked who he liked better.
“Please. You’re Daddy’s girl. You always have been. I get her. Lucky me.” He and I were closer but that was just because we were both guys. Until now.
“That’s not true…”
“Please, who does she call with every story? Who does she call when she can’t decide what to wear?”
“Sorry”.
She paused. “Sorry. She’s just been driving me nuts over Tuck and pre-school lately,” and then she told me about the pre-school process. “And of course Jeremy’s mom has an opinion, too. It’s not enough that she gives me shit that Tuck isn’t fully toilet trained yet. ‘Jeremy and Jason were toilet trained by two.’” It’s funny. When I was Dan, I was her brother. We talked but not about anything substantive. We talked towards each other. Now, we talked to each other.
“Jeremy has OCD. And Jason doesn’t like being touched. Yup, that’s a ringing endorsement for her parenting.”
“Thanks,” she said. “I don’t care what she says. That outfit is cute on you.”
“You think?”
“Yes. I love the stuff you’ve bought recently. It’s really you.” The last time we went out, I wore a green A-line dress from Madewell with a pair of booties. I didn’t want to know what that meant as far as being ‘really me.’
We both saw my mother come back in. “Shhhh,” Laura said, in a stage whisper.
“What?”
“Nothing, mom,” we said in unison.
She smiled. “If it’s nothing, then help your sister, Laura.”
While we were running around like crazy, Jess, my father and Laura’s husband were in the living room, eating cheese and crackers and watching television. I know this because it’s what I always did. Jess came in and kissed me on the cheek, “Anything I can do?”
My mother smiled. “Thank you Dan. There’s noth…”
“Set the table. I’ll help,” I said, handing him some plates as we walked to the dining room.
She smiled, “Having fun?”
“Shut up. This is bullshit,” I whispered.
“Which part?” She said, grinning. “I heard the Sammie conversation…”
“It’s that. It’s the stories. And what’s wrong with this outfit?” Jess just laughed.
I thought it would be get better. The first people to arrive were the Richardses.
“Dave,” her father Carl said to mine, “L’Shana Tova.” There was something weird in hearing him say “L’Shana Tova.” Did I mention that Michelle was Black? Her family was the only Black family in the neighborhood. When my grandfather first met them, he was a little put off until her father spoke to him in perfect Yiddish. It turned out that he had been a Shabbos goy at a synagogue in Baltimore, where he grew up. If you don’t know, a Shabbos goy is a non-Jew who performs tasks on Shabbat, when Jews are forbidden from doing so.
“Chag Sameach, Doctor.” This was a joke between my father and Carl. Carl was a tenured professor – of English – at Columbia. He had a PhD. My father was an accountant with a bachelor’s. Despite Carl’s many protestations, my grandfather insisted on calling him “Doctor.” My father used to joke that, between the Yiddish and the PhD, Carl was the son his father always wanted.
Michelle and her mother Mona rolled their eyes. They each gave me a kiss.
“JJ, you look gorgeous,” her mother said. I assumed JJ was my childhood nickname. “Michelle told me how terrific you look. Turn around.” I willingly complied. “Keep at it. I like that outfit. Those are really cute shoes.”
“Tell my mom that, please.”
She laughed. “Is she in the kitchen?” I nodded and she went in.
“Hey, Shell,” I said, giving her a kiss. Michelle was absolutely gorgeous. She was 5’9”, 150 pounds. She was a runner and kickboxer and was in terrific shape. She had amazing legs. She was wearing a blue shift and flats. “I love that dress.”
She smiled and said, in her mother’s voice, “I don’t think I like it.”
“At least she takes a stand.”
“Is Barbara just saying?”
“Yup. You mean you didn’t pack a whole wardrobe of stuff for her to reject? By the way, where’s Amanda?” Amanda was Michelle’s wife. They had been together as long as Dan and me. Amanda was a doctor, specializing in thoracic surgery. She and I had a tense relationship for a while. I always felt like she couldn’t understand why Michelle and I were friends.
“She’s covering today. She’ll switch with someone for Christmas. How’s it going here?”
“Eh, fine. Weird. I was telling my father about work and suddenly he interrupts me about Sammie.”
She looked at me like I was crazy. “And? Mine are doing the same thing. Same conversation every time. I thought I’d get out of it but nope.”
“You wanted marriage equality? That’s marriage equality for you. The right to be nagged.” We both giggled.
“What’s going on?”
“Oh, she’s pissed at me. She was droning about going to the museum and she caught me looking bored. Apparently, I’m a bad daughter. You?”
“She’s upset because Amanda’s not here for the holiday.”
“Did she forget that you’re not Jewish?”
She laughed. “Well, her daughter-in-law is a doctor…”
“I ran into Angela Maresca today at Rockland Bakery.”
“No kidding. How is she?” Even though I knew Jess was right – that I wasn’t the guy who puked, but the smart girl – I was surprised at the reaction. I expected a laugh or something more.
“Two kids. Kept looking at me funny because we don’t have kids.”
She looked surprised. “Yeah, and?”
“I don’t know. I’ve been feeling a lot more pressure lately.” It’s like ever since I grew a uterus, everyone expects me to have a baby. People!
She then did a perfect imitation of her mother. “You know you’re not getting any younger. And, not that it’s any of my business, but you two need to plan a little more than your father and I did…”
“Ouch.”
“Uh huh…”
Just then, Mona yelled, “If you two have time to imitate me, you have time to come in here.”
We spent another twenty minutes getting everything together. As people came in, the women all migrated to the kitchen to help, while the men went into the living room. I shouldn’t have been surprised since that’s what always happened.
My aunt Helene came in. She was my father’s sister. “Jessica, you look amazing. Turn around.” It was funny. As Dan, I had gained and lost weight a few times. I’d get the occasional “good work,” but, with women, they asked you to turn around. I wasn’t sure if it was affirmation or appraisal.
My cousin Jordan was with her. He was five years younger than me and doing his residency in neurosurgery at North Shore-LIJ on Long Island. “Hey Jordan,” it felt weird to be so much shorter than him. When I was Dan, I was two inches taller than him. Plus, he had always been like a little brother I never wanted. What was weirder was when he gave me a kiss on the cheek.
“Hey Jess. How’s everything?”
“Good. How’s residency?”
“Tiring.”
“I can imagine. You ever make it into the city?”
“I wish. I work 36 hour shifts then sleep. Then do it again.”
I decided to play with him. “Seeing anyone?”
“Thanks, ma,” he said, laughing. He surprised me when he threw me over his shoulder and took me into the living room. “What the hell, Jordan?!” I said, hitting him playfully on his back. “Take it back,” he said.
Jess laughed. “What did my wife do?”
“Asked me if I was seeing anyone…after a car ride with my mom.”
“Oh, carry on, then,” she said, with a smile
“You’re taking his side?”
“Bros before hos,” he said, giving me a kiss. “Even my ho. OK, Jordan, put her down.”
The whole exchange felt weird. Not good weird but not bad weird either. Just weird.
“Jess, please get back in here,” my mother yelled. “I need you.”
Jess smirked. “Duty calls,” she said, sitting down.
I whispered in her ear, “Can I tell you how much I hate you?”
Eventually, Matty came in with his wife Marlene and his two children, Michael and Melissa. Like I said, I hated him. I hated everything about him. I hated the fact that his whole family was named with “M”.
Marlene came over and gave me a kiss. “Hi, Jessica. How’s work?” Marlene was OK. No one knew why she put up with him, especially since their money was her family’s.
I started to tell her what was going on, when Matty interrupted. “Michael’s applying to law school.” Michael shrugged and rolled his eyes.
“That’s great, Mike. Anyway, as I started to say, there’s a lawsuit over a big project on 23rd…”
“I think there are too many lawyers,” Matty said.
“I think there are too many people who interrupt, so there you go,” I said, just as my mother walked in.
“You let her talk this way to people, Barbie?” My mother hated when he called her that.
“What did I say? I was talking – to your wife – and you interrupted. What would you think is the proper response?”
My mother’s response surprised me. “Jess…come on.” When I was Dan, I could rip his head off and no one said ‘boo.’
“Seriously? He interrupts me and calls you Barbie which, by the way Matty she hates, and I get come on? Seriously?”
“Seriously. Go see what Shelly is doing.” Shelly was Michelle’s nickname. Our mothers were the only ones who still used it.
I walked into the kitchen, to find Michelle transferring the mashed potatoes to a serving dish. I was livid.
She smiled, “I see he’s arrived.”
“Yeah. Did you hear her?”
“You know she’s never going to let you do that, right?”
Actually I didn’t know that but realized that Jess did. “He drives me nuts.”
“Try being a Black lesbian around him.”
“I thought you preferred lesbian of color,” I smiled.
“Shut up,” she laughed.
Almost in unison, we both said, “Not you. You’re not like the ones I’m talking about.” Once every holiday, Matty would say this to Carl. Carl would turn to my father, smile and say, in Yiddish, “every family has one.” Matty didn’t speak Yiddish, which drove him nuts.
Melissa came in. She was nineteen and a sophomore at Binghamton. She gave me a kiss and said, “Sorry, Jess. Sorry in advance, Michelle.”
“Thanks. It’s not your problem, Melissa.”
“Really?”
I laughed. “Well, I mean, it’s not your fault…how’s school?”
We then had the longest conversation we’d ever had. She told me about classes and her love life (or lack thereof.)
“Tinder screws everything up,” she said. “Everyone just wants to hook up.”
“Tinder? Wow, I feel old. Are you looking for a relationship?”
“Not really, but I want something more than swipe right, y’know?”
Michelle laughed. “This is sooo out of my league. You know the old joke? What does a lesbian bring on a second date? A U-Haul.”
Melissa laughed. “Seriously, though. I don’t know what to do.”
I smiled. “Say no.”
Melissa looked at me like I was nuts. “What?”
“Say no. If you don’t want to do Tinder, don’t.” I decided to break the guy code and let her know what to do. This would probably backfire on me if I ever changed back, but what the hell. “If a guy says he just wants to hook up, look at him and say, ‘OK, go ahead.’”
“That’s it?”
“Yup, he’ll probably say something like, ‘if you won’t, someone else will.’ And you say, ‘I’m sure. Enjoy yourself.’ Don’t get upset or anything. Just smile and say OK.”
“You sound like my mom.”
“Ouch. That’s cold. This is not some cow and free milk thing. Look, when I went to college, everyone was hooking up too. It’s not like I’m your mom, but this is control. They want to see you get bothered. It’s an ego thing. Don’t let them. Make them feel rejected.” I knew this sadly from experience. I had enough noes to know.
“What if I just want to have sex?”
“Then go ahead. If you want to just hook up, go for it. But, make it on your terms.”
“I’m calling you when it happens,” she said, laughing.
“I expect nothing less. By the way, I like your dress. Where did you get it?” It was a red striped sweater dress. Which was something I wouldn’t have known before.
“Thanks. Vineyard Vines. You don’t think it makes me look old?”
“Marlene?”
“Why do you want to dress so old? Then, if I wear something else…”
“It shows too much,” Michelle said. I imagine Jess could have contributed something more to this.
“Seriously, I like it. It’s cute. I should stop in there.” I walked past the one in Grand Central on my way to work. I had noticed a gingham strapless dress that was cute, but couldn’t decide if it was too young for me. Oh G-d, I was becoming such a girl.
Jess walked in. “What’s up in here?”
I smiled, “Girl talk. Go away.” She smirked and left.
Just then, my father said, “Come in everyone.”
We sat down to dinner. My mother did it buffet style, because of the number of people. I never noticed how many of the husbands said things like, ‘[fill in name of wife], get me some [fill in food here.]’ And they did.
Jess saw me get annoyed and smiled. “Honey, can you get me some brisket?”
“Wow, did you break your legs, honey?”
Steve Bernstein smiled, “You let your wife talk to you that way?”
Jess laughed. “How long have you known her? No one ever ‘lets’ her do anything. She just does.”
Dinner was uneventful. It was October, so it was inevitable that the election would come up despite everyone trying to avoid it. The table was, not surprisingly given its location and makeup, pro-Hillary. We were talking about Hillary’s issues in the upper Midwest. Even though I had graduated twelve years ago, I still kept my eye on things out there. It was where I became an adult – sort of – so I had an attachment to it. We were discussing the hollowing out of manufacturing there and the death of unions.
“I don’t know,” I said. “I’m worried. I think she’s going to have real problems up there.”
“You don’t know what you’re talking about,” Matty said. He had to chime in. I never knew what his politics were other than being a jerk.
Steve Bernstein cut him off. “What makes you say that?”
“Look at the primaries. She only carried four of five counties in Michigan. Bernie beat her by 13% in Wisconsin. People are angry and they’re looking for someone to blame and someone who tells them what they want to hear, and he does that.”
Marlene said, “She’s not the one who closed the plants.”
“Agreed. I think the people up there blame NAFTA for the job losses and you can’t run on the good stuff from the 90s without people holding you responsible for the bad too.”
Steve said, “it’s more complicated than that. Those jobs have been going since I was in Michigan in the 70s.”
“Obviously. But if for generations I had a good paying union job with benefits and now it’s gone and I’m making eight bucks an hour at Walmart, I’m looking to blame someone. And that’s what he does. That and tell them it’s going to be cake and ice cream for everyone.”
Matty said. “Good.”
“Good what?”
“That’s progress.”
“What is?”
“Businesses fail. Find a new job,” he smirked. Like marrying rich, I guess. “They should’ve let it fail in 2008.”
“You wanted a depression in the Midwest? Letting GM fail would have done that.”
“I don’t live there,” he smirked. “Besides, something else will come up.”
“You know that the auto industry used to employ one of every seven people in America?”
“So what? So did buggy whips. Should we protect that?”
“That’s a false equivalence, Matty. The auto industry isn’t disappearing. It’s moving to cheaper places.”
“So what? Besides the unions are too powerful. They hurt business.”
Uncle Simon chimed in. “Your grandfather was in the needle trades.”
“That was then.”
“And now you’re a putz,” Simon said.
I took a deep breath. “That wasn’t actually my point, Matty. Again, my point was that it’s going to hurt her up there.”
“I don’t like her anyway. She’s shrill.”
“She’s shrill? That’s what you have?”
“Dan, tell your wife to calm down. She’s getting emotional.”
Jess blanched. She fumbled for words. She was conflict averse.
“Matty, ad hominem attacks are the last refuge of the incompetent,” I said, with a smile. Dr. Richards looked at me, nodded and smiled.
“Excuse me?”
“I mentioned facts. You come up with ‘so what?’ Then you call Hillary shrill and say I need to calm down. That’s because you have no facts.”
My mother, in an effort to calm things down, said, “let’s just say we have a difference of opinion.”
“Mom, you can have a difference of opinion. You can’t have a difference of fact.”
Dr. Richards laughed, “My deconstructionist colleagues would disagree.”
I laughed. I didn’t want to let Matty feel like he won but I knew that it would only get worse. So, I stood down. “Stop. I’m having flashbacks to Madison. And not good ones.”
My mother said, “Why doesn’t everyone go into the living room while we clear up?” The men got up while the women cleared. Jess flashed me a smile and a shrug as she left.
Marlene turned to me and said, “You know Matty…”
“Don’t worry about it.” Marlene took dishes into the kitchen.
My mother said, “Jess, why do you have to do that?”
“Do what? Have a conversation with everyone?”
“Start with Matty.”
“I didn’t start. Steve and I were talking about her problems and he started.”
“Just ignore him. Grandma Rosie would’ve said ignore him.”
I took a deep breath. “I walked away. But I wasn’t wrong.”
“I’m trying to have a nice dinner. You were so helpful before. Why start?”
“Fine, mom.” I heard Laura downstairs with Tucker. My dad had set up a whole wooden train set for him. “I’m going to see what Laura’s up to.”
“What did I miss,” she said, with a smile.
“Matty being a putz. And when I called him, she starts blaming me. Like I’m the one ruining the dinner.”
“Just ignore her…”
“If you say Grandma Rosie would have said ignore her, I’m going to hit you.” We both laughed. “Hey, Tuckie, what are you doing?”
He had this focused look on his face. “Playing with Thomas.”
“Cool. Can I play?”
“Yes. Work bridge,” he said, pointing at a draw bridge.
“Got it.” We played for a while. I made clanging noises like a draw bridge was going up. He gave me my laugh. After about ten minutes, Laura said, “I’m going to go upstairs for a minute. Keep an eye on him.” This was surprising. She didn’t usually leave me alone with him.
“You sure?”
She looked shocked. “Of course. Why not?”
“Nothing, nothing.” After another minute of trains, Tucker got up and handed me a book. Curious George. “Read!” he said.
“OK. Did you know this was my favorite book when I was little?”
He sat down in my lap and I started to read. He put his head on my arm and looked up at me. I started to melt.
Michelle’s mom came down. “That agrees with you, Jessica.”
“Stop,” I blushed. It did though.
“We’re having C-A-K-E, if you want it,” she said, with a smile.
“In a minute. Tuck and I are going to finish our book. Right, Tuck?”
He gave me a hug. “Keep reading!”
“Yessir!” We both laughed. We finished the book and walked upstairs. He held my hand. It was so sweet…until he saw cake. Then it was all over. It was OK. I’d been dumped worse…and for less.
I sat down and turned to Mike. “So where are you thinking of applying?”
“I dunno. I was thinking Fordham, GW, that level. Any advice?”
“If you want to be a lawyer, go. But realize that it’s a different profession than even when I started. It’s hard to get a starting job.”
Matty interrupted, “You don’t know what you’re talking about.” If he had said this to me as Dan, my mother would have cut him off. Now, she was silent.
“Congratulations, Matty.”
“For what?”
“I had no idea that you graduated law school, much less passed the bar. I’m impressed.”
“What the hell are you talking about?”
“Actually, that question is better addressed to you. I’m a lawyer. I practice. You’re a whatever you are, but what you are most definitely not is a lawyer, and your son asked me and I’m giving him advice or at least trying to, and you keep offering your opinion. Your ignorant, ill-informed opinion. Like your ignorant, ill-formed opinion before. But this time you are truly ignorant of the topic at hand. So, stop and let me answer.” Everyone at the table was looking at us.
My mother looked at me and said, “Jessica, I’d like to speak to you in the kitchen please.”
“What?”
“In the kitchen, now.”
As we were walking out, I heard Matty say, “While you’re in there, get me some coffee.” I knew he was baiting me. I shouldn’t have risen to the bait. But I did.
I went back in. “Excuse me?”
“You heard me. Coffee.”
“Matty, no one else will say it, so I will. Can you please shut up? For the love of g-d, just shut up. You have no idea what you’re talking about. Not about law school. Not about the election. Not about anything. So just shut up. And get your own damn coffee.”
We went into the kitchen. “What are you doing?”
“What am I doing what?”
“With Matty.”
“He’s an asshole. Mike was asking me a question and he started bloviating…over me. What would you expect me to do?”
“Don’t curse, please.”
“How would you describe him?”
“Just ignore him. Grandma Rosie would’ve said ignore him.”
“You know what, ma? Enough. Maybe she had the patience of Job, but I don’t. All day he says something stupid and I’m supposed to ignore him. He’s a sexist, racist putz and I should ignore him. Why?”
“I’m just trying to have a nice dinner. Why start?”
“I didn’t. I’m sticking up for myself. Maybe back me up.”
“Stop being a drama queen.”
Before I could say anything, Michelle came in. “Excuse me Barb, but mind if I take Jess for a second?”
She led me up to my room. It was my room but the walls were yellow, instead of blue. All of my basketball team pictures were up but instead of me on a boys’ team, it was Jess on a series of girls’ teams. My sports biographies and science fiction were replaced by the Baby Sitters’ Club and Jane Austen. I really was English major girl, wasn’t I? There was a sorority composite from Wisconsin. Apparently, I was D-Phi-E. My prom picture was up. This time, I was wearing a black slip dress and I was with my best friend Danny Wassserman. Oh, please tell me that I didn’t do anything with him. I knew he was a pig. It was disconcerting to say the least.
“What’s up Michelle?”
“Just getting you out of there before you two did WW III.”
“Thanks. He drives me nuts.”
“Every year, and you let him.”
“He’s an asshole.”
“Yes, he is. And you won’t change him.”
“He’s a racist, sexist pig.”
“So’s my uncle Leon. And?”
“I’m more pissed at her. He’s obnoxious to me and I should just sit there?”
“You know what the definition of insanity is, right?”
“It’s just…” I smiled and shook my head. “Thanks.”
Just then my father came in. “Like old times. Sorry, I see you two and I see two ten year olds giggling. Shelly, excuse us for a minute, please.”
He sat down on the bed. I moved down.
My dad said, “What? You’re too old to sit next to me?” I moved back and he put his arm around me. I cuddled in. It felt nice. “What’s up, Jessie?”
“He’s a shmuck. And I’m tired of hearing about Grandma Rosie…”
He smiled. “You and me both, kid. Maybe Grandma Rosie would have tolerated him. You know what Grandpa Harry called him? ‘Shmuck.’” I laughed. “No, seriously. I don’t think I ever heard him call him anything but ‘shmuck.’ Or ‘your son,’ if he was talking to Irene.”
“He drives me nuts. He’s a sexist. And a racist. Why do you let him do that?”
He leaned over and kissed me. He hadn’t kissed me in years. “That’s why we love you. Fighting everyone’s fight. Even if they didn’t know they had a fight to fight. Let Carl fight his fights. He’s not even fighting.”
“I’m not putting up with him.”
“You don’t have to. But tone it down for your mother’s sake. You know this is her thing.”
“What’s your thing?”
“A grandchild,” he said, and I punched him on the shoulder. “Hey, you asked.”
“Stop it.”
“Tell me about this case,” and we talked. He and I talked about work all the time when I was Dan. But somehow it felt different. I don’t know. We were less competitive. I felt less like I was trying to prove something. It seemed like he was prouder. Not that he wasn’t proud before, just different.
We went back downstairs. Jess came over. “Everything OK?”
“It’s fine.”
“For what it’s worth, Mona took Matty’s head off. Told him he should stop talking so much. Gave him her mother’s, ‘G-d gave you two ears and two eyes and only one mouth for a reason,’ speech.”
“Did it work?”
“Not really, but it’s the thought. What did your dad say?”
“He wants a grandchild.”
“And?”
“And stop.”
“You’d be a great mom.”
“Seriously, stop.” But I thought about it. I thought about coming next year with a baby. With my baby. With Jess schlepping a portable crib in. “We also had a really nice conversation about work. Much more relaxed than usual.”
“That’s because you’re his daughter. He can just be proud without thinking about himself.”
“I guess. How about you?”
“It’s weird. I mean I don’t mind not running around. But it feels sitting there. No one really talks to each other. What were you and Melissa talking about?”
“Tinder.”
“Seriously?”
“Yup. I went to college too soon. Apparently, everyone just hooks up now. Too soon. The story of my life.”
She kissed me on the cheek. “You say that. But that’s not you. You’re too much of a romantic. That’s why I loved you before and I love you now.”
I let that pass. “I’m tired. This is stressful.”
She smiled. “I know. Welcome to one of the shitty parts of womanhood. Smile and shut up. Sorry you had to learn on the fly. You’re doing great though,” and she kissed me.
The next week Jess had a business trip. She left Sunday night and was due back Tuesday.
Monday night at 10 she called . “Hey beautiful.”
“Hey yourself,” I giggled. I couldn’t believe I did that. “How’s the trip?”
“The usual. Meetings. Dinner. The bar. I wanted to call you before it was too late.”
“Thanks. I always like hearing your voice before I go to bed.” I always did.
“What are you wearing?” She had become such a guy.
“A t-shirt?”
“Not one of your nighties?”
“Nope. Just a t-shirt. And nothing else…”
“Oh really?”
“Yup, it’s just me in my t-shirt. Too bad you’re not here.”
I heard her gulp. “Oh really?”
“Yes, really. If you were here, you could kiss my neck.”
“I could. I could nibble your earlobes.”
I imagined that and got excited. “I’d like that. Then you could suck my nipples. You like that, right?”
“Uh huh.”
“Then, you could start nibbling my inner thighs.” I heard her moan. “What are you doing next?”
“I think someone wants it rough,” she said.
“Oh really?” I started to finger myself.
“Uh huh. I think you’re putting your legs on my shoulders and I’m going to fuck you good and hard. You like that?”
“Uh huh…”
“Tell me how much.”
I was fingering myself even more quickly. “Oh G-d. Oh G-d. Fuck me. Fuck me hard. No harder. Harder. Yes. Yes,” and I shuddered. I came.
“Wow,” she said. “That was hot. Were you playing with yourself?”
“What do you think?”
“Cool.”
“Cool?”
“Yes, cool. I love you,” she said.
“I love you too. Know what I’m doing now?”
“What?”
“Putting on the pink nightie you love so much. I’m going to sleep in it and think of you.” Where did that come from? I truly began to think that I had crossed over.
“That’s my girl. I love you. Good night. See you tomorrow.”
I went to sleep. The next day, I couldn’t wait for Jess to come home. It was weird. She traveled regularly but I never missed her this much. Huh.
She came home the next day around eight and I met her at the door with a big kiss.
“Welcome home!”
“Wow. That’s a welcome. What got into you?”
“I missed you is all.”
“I missed you too.”
We walked into the bedroom. Jess dumped her laundry into the hamper and went to the bathroom. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw something red. I picked it up and walked over to the bathroom.
"What are these," I said, holding a pair of panties. She stared at me and said nothing.
"I asked you a question. What. The. Fuck. Are. These?"
"Those aren't yours?"
I walked over and picked up the laundry basket. I had done laundry the prior night and hadn't emptied it, so it was full. I dropped it in front of her and it landed with a thud. Unfortunately, it missed her feet.
"Now answer my fucking question. WHAT. THE. FUCK. ARE. THESE.?"
She stared at the floor and mumbled, "I made a mistake."
"A mistake? Are you fucking kidding me? What? Did you fall into her skanky twat by accident? You made a mistake alright. A big fucking mistake."
She started to cry. "I... I..."
"Was she in the room when I was talking to you? That's why you were laughing, wasn't it? Look at my stupid wife. Talking dirty to me while you suck my dick. Jesus fucking Christ. I'm such a fucking idiot."
"It wasn't...I wouldn't... I'm..."
"Get out."
"What?"
"Get the fuck out. Of this apartment. Right now."
"Where am I supposed to go?"
"That's not my problem. Why don't you go to your skanky, cheap underwear wearing whore? Or to hell? Whatever. Just get out!"
"This is my apartment too."
"Stay here and I'll cut your dick off."
"Uh, you'd be cutting your dick off..."
"No. You just did that," I said flatly.
Her shoulders slumped and she left. She threw some clothes in her bag and left. And I cried. I realized just how screwed up my life was and I cried. For an hour.
I called Sammie and told her what happened.
"That doesn't sound like Dan."
"Do you think I'm lying?"
"No. No. Not at all. I'm just shocked is all. Are you OK, Jessie?"
"No.". I wasn't going to lie.
"Do you want me to come over?'
I was going to say no, but I had enough lying for one night. "Yeah. I would. Thanks. Sorry."
"For what?" She seemed annoyed.
"You're... I mean you have to be...I mean it's a lot because..."
She stopped me. "Yeah. I'm pregnant. And you're in pain. And that matters a lot more.”
"Thanks," I said, sniffling. I felt pathetic.
"I love you Jessica. It's going to be OK."
"Maybe. I hope so. We'll see."
"You want anything?"
"Ice cream". That was not a Jess thing. That was a Dan thing. I was the guy with a cone in a snow storm. I thought for a second. "I'll be damned if I'm going to sabotage my hard work because of some whore," I said.
"Good job, Jessie! Fuck him...ok, poor choice of words". We both broke out laughing.
I hung up the phone.
I stared at the mirror and looked at the woman looking back at me.
'You are a freak! A fucking freak! A fucking pathetic loser,' I thought.
'No wonder she fucked someone else.'. I started stomping around the apartment. The people downstairs must've been thrilled. "You're embarrassing. I like being pretty. I like being feminine," I said in a sing-song voice.
I went to my closet and stared at my clothes. I looked at the velvet dress and tore it out of the closet and threw it on the bed. I stared at the lace dress. 'Pookie and Sebastian? 'Pookie and Sebastian? 'Pookie and motherfucking cocksucking Sebastian?, I said, throwing it out of the closet'. If Sandy Feldstein heard me, he would've dropped dead.
I just started throwing things. Fuck pretty. Fuck sweet. Fuck Anthropologie.
I saw THE dress. The one I fell in love with. The princess dress. "Guess what Jess," I said. "The princess is gone," and I threw it down.
I was now going around the bend. I was out of breath and stared in the mirror. "I thought I'd look cute with bangs," I sneered. Jesus Christ. There's something wrong with you, DAN. No wonder."
I went to the drawer and got a pair of scissors and thought about cutting off all my hair. I was about to hack my hair off and then I stopped myself. 'What the fuck are you thinking? You're thinking like a girl. You didn't do anything. SHE did. She fucked around on you. She fucked around on you and you're going to cut off your hair. You like your hair. You like your clothes. You like you. You've been working your ass off and she pulls this shit? Cutting your hair off is a win for her. She freaked when she saw it. Throwing your clothes away? She wins. And she's not winning". I fell back on the bed.
Just then the buzzer rang. It was Sammie. "Come on up."
"Thanks for coming," I said. She gave me a long hug, which helped a little.
She looked annoyed. "What is this 'thank you for coming' bull? What is this - open school night?". Sammie was now six months pregnant. She had a round belly and was, as Ruth said, carrying in front. Yup, she was definitely carrying a baby. G-d bless her though. She was wearing a gorgeous knit dress, heels and a leather jacket.
"Sorry, I'm a little upset, in case you didn't notice.". My hair was a mess and I was out of breath.
"You hide it well. Seriously though " she said, sitting. "What happened?"
"I don't know. I really don't and I don't care."
"I just am in shock. What did he say again?"
I shook my head. "It was a mistake is all I got."
"What the fuck? A mistake? Seriously?"
"Seriously. I never fucked someone by mistake. You?"
"Um. Anthony Amentario."
I laughed. Anthony was the kind of person you sleep with to get back at someone else. in Sammie's case, it was her father for not being at her high school graduation. "Regret is not a mistake."
"He didn't say anything else?"
"He tried."
"What did you say?" I wasn't interested in going over every word. I listened to people all day and got bored. But they paid me. On the other hand, she was here for me.
"I called her a skanky twat. Told him to get out. Told him I'd cut his dick off if he stayed."
"What did he say"? I couldn't tell her that he said that I'd be chopping off my own dick and that he already did. That'd be weird. Not the rest of this. Just that. "Nothing. He just left like a beaten dog."
"No reason at all?"
"Nope. Besides I don't want to hear it. What could he say to make it better?"
"I don't know. Why do you think he did it?"
"Don't know. Don't care."
"Did you guys have a fight or something?"
I glared at her. "Would that matter?"
She looked shocked then chastened. "Absolutely not. No way. I'm just still trying to figure out how...I mean I would never expect Dan. Lori's boyfriend..."
I smiled. "No, that would be homicide."
"True. Um, this is really...and don't take my head off..."
I knew where she was going. "The sex was fine. Great. We even had phone sex while he was there.". I started to get agitated. "She was probably blowing him while we were doing it."
"No. There has to be a reason. I'm just...". Sammie was never at a loss for words.
"A reason? OK, he's an asshole. He got drunk. He has a pe...no. That's bullshit. Not every guy cheats. My dad didn't. Mitchell (her brother) doesn't, does he?" I never cheated.
"Lindsay would cut his dick off, so no."
"Has Jon?"
"He'd wish I'd cut his dick off."
"Exactly. Did you tell him?"
"Not yet. I started to but wanted to come here first."
"Thank you. For everything. I didn't mean to drag you in."
"Stop," she said, taking my hand. "No kidding. You would do anything for me. I would do anything for you. That's what we do".
"I know," and I started bawling. She rubbed my back.
"It's OK. Let it out. It's going to be OK."
I kept bawling. "It won't. It won't be OK. He fucked someone else. He brought her panties home. Into my house. Our home."
"Shhhh..."
"I'm just...I thought...and now it's all shit. How could I...". I kept crying. I don't know for how long because apparently, I passed out. I guess the stress got to me.
I woke up and heard her on the phone in the kitchen. "Yeah, she's not doing great. Yeah, I'd kill him. Ha ha. You do have the right idea..."
I woke up. "Who are you talking to?"
She looked at me and said, "Michelle. She's worried. We're worried."
"Thanks.".
"She's meeting you for dinner. Thursday. She can't do it sooner. Will you be OK"?
"Are you afraid I'm going to hurt myself or something? Because I'm not." I would never. I wouldn't give her the satisfaction.
"No one thinks that. We're your friends. We're here for you.". That was nice. A guy wouldn't be here. And he wouldn't have called other guys. "It's not your fault."
"I just don't know what I...," then I realized that I was internalizing this, which was wrong. "No, FUCK THAT! I DIDN'T DO SHIT! He did it. Not me. He did it. I'm done."
Sammie looked surprised, then smiled, "Good. That's my Jess."
"Seriously, I am. He did this. He can fix it. Or not. I guarantee you that he's not crying."
"Where is he?"
"Not my problem. You want to screw someone else? Stay with her."
"That's great," she said. "Now I have a question..."
"What?"
"You know I have to pee like every three seconds. And I held it before, which is not easy. But you passed out and I went into the bedroom and," she said, laughing and opening the door, "um..." she said, pointing at the mess.
The next day, Jess tried to call me while I was getting dressed. I saw her number on the phone.
"Fuck you for calling," and I hung up. I was trying to decide what to wear. I was not in the mood for a dress. Given everything that transpired, my brain was not in dress mode. I put on a white blouse, black wool skinny pants and a pair of black boots with a 3" heel. I looked at myself in the mirror.
"You are ready to kick ass. You are ready to kick ass. You are ready to kick ass," I repeated. I was armed for battle.
It didn't take long. I was going to get on the train. I had already missed one because of the crowd. A man was standing in the door. 5'11". Stringy runner build. Green eyes. Chin beard. And brown hair in a man bun. I hate man buns.
"Excuse me," I said. He smirked.
"Excuse ME," I said, elbowing him in the sternum.
"What the fuck" he said, as the train pulled out. When you're armed for battle, amazingly it finds you.
"I said excuse me nicely. Don't block the door and you don't get it.". He moved closer. People were watching. I thought I saw someone take out their phone. Great, now I'd get to be "crazy bitch on the N train" on YouTube. "Move closer and I'll geld you," I said, pointing at my boots.
He got off at the next stop, mumbling, "crazy bitch". I felt good, powerful. In control. Ironically, I could never have done that as Dan. Not without a fistfight.
I got off the train feeling good about myself. I got my coffee and an egg white sandwich from Starbucks, ready to face the day. Rachel came into the elevator.
"Wow Jess, you look great. Those boots are fierce," she said. There's nothing like a tiny little white girl trying to sound like a cross between a black woman and a gay man. Normally, that would annoy me. I hated when white people tried to sound black, but it was meant to be a compliment. And I felt fierce.
"Thanks, Rachel. I'm feeling fierce," I said with a smile.
The morning went well. I focused on my work.
Robin called. "Lunch"?
I wasn't ready to talk and I knew I'd want to so I begged off. "I am swamped. How about tomorrow"?
At 2 pm, Michelle called. "Hey JJ. How are you doing?"
"Fine.". I wasn't ready to talk again.
"For real?"
My "kick ass" endorphin high was wearing off. And it was Michelle. "I don't know. I just don't know."
"Has he even called"?
"Once."
"That's it"?
"Yeah, well I said fuck you and hung up, so there's that."
"Do you want him to"?
I thought about it. "No. There's nothing to say. Nothing I want to hear at least."
"Are you going to be OK tonight? I can reschedule."
"No, you have something. I'm fine. I was going to go to the gym anyway. Work off some of this.". I was down to 138. 34Cs. 24" waist. 26 percent body fat.
"Good for you. That's a great idea," she said, a little too brightly.
"You could never hide it, but I'm fine. I'll be fine. I'll see you tomorrow. Let's talk about it then.”
At 3 pm, Jasmine brought in a bouquet of roses.
"Ooh, those are so pretty. I wish Jaquan would send me roses". 'No, you really don't,' I thought.
"Thanks," I said.
"I'll get a vase."
"Don't worry about it."
"You sure? They could die.". Yeah, a lot of things could die. My marriage. My sense of self. Flowers - not a big deal.
"Yes I am sure. Thanks.". And she walked out.
I read the card. "I am so sorry. I fucked up. Please forgive me, my beautiful rose. Love,
Dan.". My beautiful rose? I almost lost my beautiful lunch.
I took scissors from my drawer and cut the flowers in half. I took a picture and texted Jess. 'Fuck you. Contact me again and I go for a restraining order - and I can get one, remember? I am serious. P.S., Flowers? Seriously?'
Mike came in to talk about a case. He saw the flowers in the garbage. "So, on a scale of 1 to 10, how deep in shit is he?"
That made me laugh. "44."
"Sorry to hear that. Anything you need, you let me know".
"Thanks. I’m good. I'll call if I need bail," I said, with a smile.
I left work and went to the gym. I had no reason to go home. I took a spin class then went to lift. Lifting always relaxed me when I was Dan. There's something primal about lifting a lot of weight then dropping it.
I loaded up one of the machines and went to lift. I couldn't move it. The guy on the next machine smirked. He was about 5'10" and 230 with a gut.
"Something funny over there?"
He looked surprised. "No."
"Didn't think so". I halved the weight and started lifting. I pulled down. Fuck Jess. And up. Fuck Jess. It was very therapeutic. I walked around afterwards to avoid going home. I didn’t want to face our home alone.
Eventually, I went home. I went into the bedroom, took off my makeup and got undressed. I couldn’t even look at the lingerie drawer. I put on a t shirt and underwear and laid down. I stared at the ceiling for an hour and couldn’t fall asleep. The picture of Jess and me on the dresser stared at me. Jess’ (well, my former) clothes felt like I was being taunted. Being in our bed made me feel worse. I went out to the couch and fell asleep with the TV on.
I woke up the next morning feeling like death. I stared at my closet for a while and remembered that I was seeing Michelle tonight. It made me remember a time when there was no Dan and Jessica and it made me feel better. I put on a blue and white print wrap dress with a v neck. I tightened it to show off my hard work. I put on a pair of 3” heels and went off to work.
Once again, a guy was blocking the train door. Puerto Rican, 5’8”, 165 lbs. Medium brown skin. Short hair. At this rate, if the law didn’t work, I was going to be a cop.
“Excuse me.”
He smirked.
This time, I didn’t elbow him. “You know what? I’ve had a shitty couple of days and you’re making it worse and worse than that, you’re impeding the flow of traffic. So how about you move in so everyone can get to work. K?” People on the train stared at me. But he moved.
Another man got up, laughing, and offered me his seat. “I did not see that one coming, miss. Maybe this will make your today better.”
It didn’t. Well, I mean it did a little. But I was still dealing with the fact that everything I knew, that I had a couple of months ago was now gone. Before this, I was a happily married man. Now I was a woman in her 30s with a cheating husband and a marriage on the rocks. I had become a country song written by David Lynch and Jill Soloway.
That afternoon, Michelle called. “So where do you want to go tonight? You choose.”
“Capital Grille in the Chrysler Building? 7:00?”
“I’ll make the reservation. Do you want to talk?”
“No. Yeah. At dinner.”
We went to Capital Grille. I had grilled swordfish and broccoli. We ordered a bottle of sauvignon blanc.
Two glasses apiece in, Michelle said, “So, I’m sorry I keep repeating myself. But what exactly happened again?”
“I told you already. I found panties in his luggage.”
“And you’re sure they weren’t yours? Like maybe they got stuck to his underwear and he packed them by mistake?”
I was feeling the wine. “Are you serious?”
“That’s not Dan.”
“So you don’t believe me? Really? Your best friend? Since we were six?” I was getting angry.
“Of course, I believe you. This is just so…weird.”
“They were NOT mine. They were cheap underwear from g-d knows where. But they were most definitely NOT mine.” Now I was beginning to wonder. Were they mine? No, they weren’t. I know my brand. “Besides, if he didn’t say, why would he say ‘I made a mistake’? Huh? Why wouldn’t he say, aren’t those yours?”
She laughed. “You think he knows what underwear are yours? Really? Amanda’s a girl and she doesn’t know what I wear.” That confirmed it for me. Michelle was definitely the wife. Yeah, yeah, it’s a stereotype but whatever.
“Ha ha. He still said, ‘I made a mistake.’”
“I know. I know. I guess I just don’t want to believe it. I’m sorry.”
“I’m sorry. I’m just angry.” Angry that my marriage was floundering. Angry that I was sitting here getting buzzed on two glasses of wine. Angry that I had lost everything I thought I had. “Why would sh..he risk everything we had for some one night stand? Why?” I started to cry.
Michelle moved over to my side, and held me to her shoulder. “It’s going to be OK…”
“Is it?”
“Whatever happens, you’ll be OK. You’re a great woman and you’ll be OK.” A great woman. Great. It hit me. I could be Jessica forever. Or I could wake up tomorrow as Dan. But either way, I’d be without the man…the woman…the person I loved. Or thought I did. I cried some more. People in the restaurant stared.
I gathered my composure. “Sorry…”
“For what?”
“I embarrassed you in front of everyone.”
“What everyone? There’s no everyone here. I don’t know anyone here and if I did, so what? You’re JJ. I’m Shelly,” she said, smiling. “We are the Super Girls.” We were the Super Twins when we were little but I guess things had changed. She held out her fist. I bumped it and we went “pow,” like when we were seven.
“Thanks,” I said, wiping my eyes. “What did Amanda say?
“She wanted to call him.”
“Really? Why?”
“Read him the riot act. She’s pissed. Called him phallocratic.”
“Wow. And I always feel like she doesn’t like me.” She didn’t like me. Maybe I was inadvertently phallocratic. G-d knows I never felt like I ruled, much less with my penis.
“Would you stop? She likes you. She’s a surgeon. She has knife skills, not people skills. Have you told Dave and Barb yet?”
“Oh G-d no! I don’t need that now. Can you imagine?”
She laughed. “Sorry. I don’t know what I was thinking.” In a perfect version of my mom’s voice, she said, ‘I don’t understand. What exactly did you do? What color panties were they? What brand? Because Mona said that you can’t get those in most stores and I said….”
I laughed. For the first time in what felt like forever, I laughed. And I kept laughing.
Michelle laughed. “It wasn’t that funny.”
“I know,” I said, laughing. “That’s what makes it funny. That or the wine. Either way, that was hysterical.” And we both kept giggling. Like ten-year old girls. And it felt really good.
We split a slice of chocolate cake and left the restaurant. We walked past McFadden’s and I said, “You want to go get a drink?”
“You haven’t had enough?” she said, giggling.
“Come on.”
“OK. But McFadden’s? Seriously? When were we there last? 2007? Why?” McFadden’s is a bar on 42nd and 2nd. It’s incredibly popular with the post-college crowd. We used to joke that it had an age requirement. No one over 24 allowed.
“Come on. It’ll be fun.”
“Fine. If it’s too loud, can we leave?”
I pulled her by the arm. “Come on, old lady. Let’s have a drink.”
“You’re lucky I love you, Jess, y’know,” she said, as we walked in.
As I expected, it was a loud Thursday night crowd made up of kids in their early twenties. The women were all wearing too short skirts and too high heels. They were standing clustered in groups of three or four, daring guys to come over while simultaneously hoping for it. The guys were all walking around with the supreme self-confidence that only comes from being completely ignorant.
“Oh g-d,” Michelle said. “This is like a bad college, pre-coming out nightmare. One drink, Jess.”
“Fine,” I said, slurring slightly. “My treat. Bay Breeze?”
“What are you, 23? I’ll have an old fashioned.”
I got us our drinks and brought them over. Just then, two guys walked over. They were in their 20s, 25 at the oldest. One was 6’2”, 200 lbs with blue eyes and brown hair. The other was 5’11”, 165 lbs. with thinning brown hair and muddy brown eyes.
Blue eyes said, “Hi, I’m Michael and this is Jake. Can we get you some drinks?” Please tell me that I was never that bad. Michelle wordlessly held up her drink and arched her eyebrow.
Jake said, “Allow me to apologize and try again. I’m Jake. It’s nice to meet you.” I liked him. Reminded me of someone I used to know…
“Nice to meet you. I’m Jessica and this is Michelle. Would you like to sit down?” Michelle looked at me and shook her head.
“Thanks,” he said, giving Michael the ‘see I can do this too’ look. Maybe it was the wine, but I liked him.
“Sit down. Tell me about yourself.”
Michael interrupted. “I’m a doctor.”
Michelle looked him up and down. “Oh really? What kind? Where?”
“Well, I’m a resident at NYU. In surgery.” Poor guy. Amanda was at NYU.
“Interesting.”
“I think so.” What a jackass. “It’s very difficult.”
Michelle grinned and said, “I imagine so.” I knew that grin. It wasn’t a too much wine grin. It was the grin of the hawk when it sees its prey.
“What about you, Jake,” I said. “What do you do?”
“I’m in law school.” Bingo. “I’m a third year. At Columbia.”
“Really. I’m a lawyer. Small world.”
“Yes it is.” He shuffled his feet. It was cute. “What kind?”
“I’m a litigator. Construction and real estate mostly. What do you think you want to do?”
“I don’t know. I summered at Weil in m & a. They made me an offer.”
“Weil? Good luck. That’s a shark tank.”
“It is. But the money’s really good.”
“It is. But nothing comes for free, remember that. They’re not paying you $200,000 because you know a lot. No offense.”
He smiled. “I know. Would you like to dance?”
Michelle looked horrified and gave me the no sign with her hand.
I smiled, “Sure,” and we went out onto the floor. There isn’t a dance floor there as such. It’s more people dancing in place to the jukebox. Either way, we moved away and started dancing. He was kind of clumsy and stepped on my feet every so often. He apologized. I found it endearing. I saw Michael try and impress Michelle. And fail.
We went back to the table. “Thanks,” he said, shyly. “Sorry to leave you two here.”
Michelle quickly glared at me. “Hey, Jess. I’ve got to get up in the morning. Can we head out?”
I looked at Jake. “I think I’d like to stay, if you would.”
He gulped then smiled. “Sure.”
Michelle said, “Jessica, can I talk to you for a second?”
“Excuse me,” I said. I felt a little woozy. Between the weight loss and the fact that I was already seven inches shorter, I couldn’t hold my alcohol.
“What are you doing?”
“What? I’m having another drink.”
“You’ve had enough.”
“I’m fine.”
“What are you doing? You’re leading on that poor kid.”
I smiled. “Who said that I’m leading him on?”
“Please Jess. Please come with me. This is not you.” ‘You’re right,’ I thought. ‘None of this is me so why not?’
“Maybe it needs to be.”
“You’re upset. You should be upset. I’m upset. But this is not you. This will not make it better. You’ll hate yourself. I know you, Jessica. Please don’t do this. Please,” she said, holding my hand.
“I’ll be fine, Michelle. I know what I’m doing.”
She looked at me sadly. “I wonder…” She shook her head. “Please don’t.”
We walked back to the table. “Is everything OK?” Jake said.
“It’s fine,” I said. “Girl talk.”
As Michael smiled, Michelle picked up her coat, turned to him and said, “Say hi to Dev for me.”
Michael looked shocked. “Dev?”
“Yes. Dev Parikh. Your chief,” she said, giving him that hawk-like grin.
“Uh, OK.”
“Tell him to tell Anuja we wouldn’t miss the birthday for anything. Tell him I can’t believe Raji is three already. Tell him it seems like just yesterday Amanda and I were at the hospital visiting Nuj after he was born. You can remember that, can’t you? Because,” she said, staring at Jake and Mike, “I can. And Amanda – she’s my wife, she’s a surgeon there too – can. So, I’m sure two smart guys like you can.”
A couple of hours later, I came back into the apartment, took off my heels and turned on the light. Jess was on the couch. I jumped.
“Where were you?”
“None of your business,” I said, slurring slightly.
“Have you been drinking? Who were you with?”
“That’s none of your business either. What the hell are you doing here? I told you to leave me alone.”
“Please. I have nowhere to go.” That felt good.
“Not my problem. Get out.”
“Please. Let me explain.”
“Why should I?”
“Because. I don’t know. But maybe you shouldn’t. But please. Please let me.”
My buzz was wearing off. I was tired. “Fine…why? Why did you do it?”
“Because I could.”
“Because you could? Get the fuck out. Because you could? And you thought that would be OK?”
“That’s not what I meant.” I should have thrown her out but some part of me felt like after all these years, I should let her explain…and then throw her out.
“Fine…you have two minutes and then leave.”
“What I meant was that, for the first time in my life, I could do something without being judged. You know what goes at these meetings…”
“I thought ‘what happens on the road, stays on the road,’” I said, sneering.
“Yeah, well, if you’re a guy, it does. When I was you…”
“You are me. Or did you forget that? Oh yeah, you did.”
“What I meant was when I was a girl. Anyway, what happens on the road applies to men only. When I was Jessica, I mean me, I couldn’t do it. Even when I was single. If I did it, I’d be a slut. A guy gets to be a player. And, for the first time in my life, I could be the player. I could do it and not be judged and I did it.”
“So, you didn’t cheat on me before not because it’s wrong but because your coworkers would judge you? That makes me feel so much better.”
She started to cry. “No. That’s not it. That’s not it at all. I never cheated on you. I would never have cheated on you.”
“Really? So what happened this time? What made this so unique?”
“Sunday night. We were in the bar having drinks. This woman comes over and starts reaching over me. ‘Excuse me, can I have some of those peanuts?’ ‘Can I borrow a napkin?’ She was rubbing her tits all over me.”
“I think I’m going to throw up.”
“Anyway, she offered a key and everybody was egging me on and I was drunk and I did it. I’ll leave now.”
“Did you get a blow job? Have sex? Anal?”
“Oh g-d Dan. Yuck. We had sex. Shitty sex. Honestly, it felt like I was masturbating into someone. That’s how bad it felt.”
That was an image. “Good.”
“I deserve that.”
“Does our marriage mean nothing to you?”
She slumped. “Of course. I mean no. It means everything to me.”
“So it meant so much that you cheated. So much that you took my body, my dick and fucked someone else with it. Because you could. Why should I believe you about anything?”
She went to take my hand. I yanked it away. “Don’t. Not now. Maybe not ever again. But definitely not now.”
“Sorry. I don’t know why you should believe me. I just know that I fucked up and would give up everything just to not have you hate me, forget take me back. But I have never been more sorry about anything in my life.” She got up to leave.
I looked at her. Something in me broke. I didn’t exactly believe her but I wanted to. “You can stay.” She walked towards our room. “Not in there. On the couch.”
“You’re right.”
I turned and sat back down. “I’m going to ask you some questions. If you lie to me, if I think you’re lying, not being 100% honest, we’re over. You leave - now. And you don’t come back. I file papers and we’re over. No more. Understood?”
She looked at me gravely and said, “Understood.”
“Did you ever sleep with anyone else after we were together?”
“Never.”
“Not just after we got married or engaged or lived together? Even after our first date? Ever?”
“I have not slept with anyone since before our first date. I swear.”
“If you could have, would you?”
Without blinking, she said, “No. Never.”
“How can I trust you again? How do I know that, if we never change back, you won’t keep doing it?”
“I don’t know. All I can say is that, when I saw the pain and anger in your eyes – in my eyes – I saw what I had done. I knew that I had hurt the person that I love and that I would give anything to make that pain go away. That I’d rather feel ten times that pain every minute of every day of my life than to ever make you feel that way for one second. All I can do is promise and show you that I won’t. If you wanted me to live stream my life, I would. If you wanted to be there with me every minute, I would welcome it.”
“If we’re at that point, we’re already done,” I sighed.
“My point is that I can’t say anything that’ll make you trust me. I can try and show you if you let me.”
“If the roles were reversed, would you trust me?”
“Honestly, I don’t know. I hope so. But I don’t know. I can’t imagine you doing it.”
“Why? Because I’m too romantic? Too feminine?”
“NO! Because you do the right thing. Because you’re a good person. Because you’re better than I am. I never thought you were feminine and I’m sorry that I’ve said it. I thought, I think you’re a caring, kind, beautiful person. I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry. Can I ask you a question?”
“What?”
“Did you ever do it?
“Ever what?” I knew what.
“Did you ever have sex with anyone else?”
“Live with the uncertainty,” I said, going into the bedroom and closing the door.
The next morning Jess was waiting with coffee when I got up. Which was good because I was hungover.
“I thought you might like some coffee.”
“Thanks.” She leaned over to kiss me. “No. Not now.”
“OK. When you’re ready.”
“That may be a long while, if ever.”
“I know.”
We sat at the table and stared at each other. I wanted to say something, anything but, for once in my life, words failed me. Jess looked like she had something to say too. She stopped and started several times.
“It’s supposed to rain today,” she said, to break the silence.
“Thanks.”
We both got dressed and went to work. She waited until I was done before she even went in to get dressed.
I came in at 9:30 to a voice mail from Michelle.
I called her back. “To answer your question, nothing happened.”
“Thank G-d…what happened?”
“You left. Mike left right after you. He looked at me like ‘please don’t let her get me thrown out of residency’,” I said, laughing.
“Good,” she said, with a laugh. “And then?”
“Jake and I talked. He’s a nice guy. Reminds me of Dan kind of.”
“Duh.”
“Meaning?”
“You have a type.” I didn’t know what to do with that. Too weird. Unlike the rest of this.
“Yeah, well, anyway, we finished our drinks and we went back to his place…”
“Oh no…”
“Yeah, and we got there….”
“How was it?”
“Like reliving my 20s again. Law books everywhere. Flat screen with an Xbox.” I had a PS2. “Lots of framed prints that he bought from the art store. Y’know, those ‘look at me, I’m cultured’ black and white pictures of the Flatiron in the fog…”
“He really is Dan,” she laughed. “You couldn’t even pick someone different. Such a girl.”
I ignored that. Too creepy. “Well, anyway, we got up there and I was looking around and I felt nauseous…”
“Mentally or physically?”
“Both. More of the first though. It hit me. And I said to him, ‘I’m sorry…’”
“What did he say?”
“He smiled and said, ‘that’s OK. you’re married.’”
“What? How?”
“He took my hand and said, ‘I just noticed the indentation from your ring. It’s fine. Plus, you’re drunk. I don’t sleep with other guy’s wives and I don’t want to be something someone regrets in the morning. No matter how beautiful she is.’”
“Really? For real?”
“I know,” I said. “I wish I wasn’t married. That was really sweet. He took a cab back with me to make sure I got home.” And, when I thought about it, that’s what I would’ve done. Stupid morals.
“I’m glad you didn’t do it.”
“Me too. You were right.”
“It’s OK. You were angry. I get it. Sorry if I was all judgy.”
“You weren’t judgy. You were being my friend even if I was too drunk and pissed to get it. I hope you’re not angry at me.”
“Stop. I was never angry at you. I was just worried. Power Girls have to look out for each other.”
“Thanks.”
“Now what?”
“I came home and he was there.”
“Seriously?”
“Yup.”
“Where was he?”
I realized that I never asked. “Huh. I don’t know.”
“And?”
“We talked.”
“Did he explain?”
I couldn’t tell her what he said. “Not really. I asked if he had done it before and he said no. And he made all these promises about how he’ll never do it again…”
“And?”
“And we’ll see. I don’t know that I can trust him again.” And I still didn’t.
“I hope…I hope…I don’t know what I hope. Other than you’re happy.”
“Thanks. Power Girls. Life was easier then.”
“Yup. I love you JJ.”
“I love you too Shelly.”
The next month was torture.
We settled into an uneasy rhythm. We’d get up in the morning. She’d make me coffee, which I appreciated. We’d watch New York 1 for the weather. Then I’d get ready, then she would. We were never in the bedroom at the same time.
We never called each other at work. Before this, we used to speak a couple of times a day, even if only to talk about the mundane details of life, like what to have for dinner. But we’d always say, “I love you to each other.” I missed “I love you.” I wasn’t sure whether she loved me or I loved her right now, but I missed it.
For the first two weeks, I didn’t care. I appreciated it, in fact. It allowed me to focus. After that, I went to pick up the phone a few times to call her but couldn’t. Beneath my pretty exterior was still my male brain. And my male ego. I felt like calling would be like letting her win and I couldn’t do that. She never called either.
One Saturday, about two weeks in, I got up to go for a run. I was getting dressed, when Jess said, “Hang on. I’m going to come with you.”
“I’d rather you didn’t.” The sole saving grace of this torture was that I had been going to the gym every day and working out even harder. Combine that with my lack of interest in eating and I was down another five pounds, to a total of twenty.
What she said next surprised me. “I don’t care. I want to go for a run. And, more importantly, I want to make sure you’re safe.”
“I can take care of myself.”
“Your brain may think it’s Dan, but your body is Jessica. And I know you don’t care what happens to me, but I care what happens to you.” My brain wasn’t sure what it was. Other than hurt.
“I do care what happens to you. I’m angry but I don’t want something to happen to you. Unless I do it.” That was the first time that I had articulated that.
She smiled. “I’ll run behind you. Like the Secret Service.”
“You’ll run behind me because I’m faster.”
We went for a run. She ran alongside me. We didn’t speak much during the run but, for the first time, since it happened, I felt like, maybe out of the destruction of our marriage, we could start rebuilding. I didn’t know whether what was built would last or be inhabitable. But, at least, we could start clearing away the rubble.
What helped the process was a call from my father one Monday.
“Hey, sweetie,” he said.
My dad was not one for using the phone, except for clients. “Is everything OK, daddy?” I had taken surprisingly easily to calling him that.
“I can’t call one of my two favorite daughters?”
“Sorry. It just that you usually don’t. Usually I get mom.”
He laughed. “So then this is a double bonus. Don’t repeat that. Anyway, I’m going to be in the city for CPE on Wednesday and your mother is having dinner with the girls…” It was funny. These were women in their 70s who were the ‘girls.’ My grandmother played cards with the ‘girls.’ But, a girl in her 20s is a woman. I said that once and my father said, ‘It’s simple. Any girl younger than you is a woman. Any woman older than you is a girl.’ “Anyway, so I’d thought I’d see if you’d like to go to dinner.”
I smiled. “I’d love to. Dinner with my favorite daddy.” OK, that one made me retch a little.
“Dan going to join us?”
Uh, no. “Let’s just make it father-daughter night. Where’s the CPE?”
“The Hyatt in Grand Central.”
“How about Pescatore? I’ll meet you in the lobby and we’ll walk over. 6:30?”
“Great. I can’t wait.”
“Me too.” I hung up and felt a little better. I always liked having time alone, just me and him. This was the first time I’d being do it as Jess.
We met at the hotel. I was wearing a green knit dress from Ann Taylor and booties with 3” heels. I gave him a kiss on the cheek. “Hi, daddy.” I don’t know why I felt the need to be so girly, but it felt better.
My dad looked at me and said, “Wow, sweetie. You look fantastic. How much so far?”
I smiled proudly. “20 pounds.”
“You look terrific. What is it? Diet? Exercise?”
“Both.”
“Well, whatever it is, you look amazing. I need to do something,” he said, patting his stomach. He needed to lose about ten pounds, but for a 68 year old, he looked good. He was 5’11” and about 200 pounds. I was sixteen when I passed him in height. That always made feel better. That and when he begged off from wrestling me.
We were sitting at dinner when I decided to tell him what was going on. I took a deep breath and said, “I have something to tell you.” His face lit up. ‘Oh shit,’ I thought.
“No daddy, not that. In fact, it’s definitely not that.”
He looked concerned. “What’s wrong, Teddy?” Teddy was my family nickname when I was little. Apparently, when I was 1 ½ or 2, I had a stuffed dog. I decided it was a bear and called it ‘Teddy’. Every time someone tried to tell me it was a dog, I adamantly said ‘Teddy,’ so I became ‘Teddy’. I hadn’t been called it in years. “Is everything OK?”
“I want to talk to you but you have to promise not to tell mom.”
“I don’t know that I can do that. That’s not fair.”
“OK, well, I’ll tell you. I’m asking you not to say something but I trust your judgment. If you think she needs to know, tell her and I’ll deal with the fallout.”
“Fair enough. What is it? Are you OK? Is Dan?”
I took a deep breath. “I’m fine. Dan’s fine. Well, not really, he cheated on me.” It felt weird yet cathartic saying that. I don’t think I could’ve had the same conversation with him as Dan. It would’ve felt weak.
He shook his head. “Jesus. Really? No….”
“He did. You believe me, right?”
He looked shocked. “Of course, I believe you. Why would you lie about that? You’re my daughter. I believe you. I just don’t want to believe that. What happened?”
“On a business trip.” I started to sniffle.
“When?” He looked angry. And hurt.
“Three weeks ago.”
“And you didn’t say something?”
“I wasn’t ready…”
“To listen to your mother?” He said with a smile. “This is privileged, right?”
I laughed. “How would either of us benefit from repeating that?”
“That’s my girl. So, what happened?”
“I don’t know. Other than he did it.” Obviously, I did but saying to your father, ‘you won’t believe this but your daughter used to be your son and your son-in-law was your daughter-in-law and she felt like, as your son-in-law…’ is always difficult.
“Are you getting divorced? Is that what you’re trying to tell me? Because you know we’re here for you no matter what, right?”
“I know you are. I just don’t know what to do here.”
“Has he done this before?”
“He says no.”
“Do you believe him?”
“I think so.”
He took my hand. It felt nice. “What do you want?”
“I want us to be us again. Sorry, I know that sounds stupid.”
“It doesn’t, sweetie.” I liked being sweetie and Teddy. It made me feel safe. “This is not my strong suit, you know. But, I want to help. Let’s analyze this.” I smiled. My dad was an accountant. Everything could be analyzed. “Do you still love him?”
“I think so. I don’t know.”
“You can love him and be angry at him, honey. Ask your mother. After 40 years of marriage, I know that.”
“I guess.”
“Can I tell you a story? Don’t take my head off though.”
“Uh oh…”
“You probably don’t remember this. You were maybe five when this happened. No, around six, because Carl and Mona had moved in. Anyway, what was the name of the fat girl that lived down the block? The one with the foul mouth?”
“Dina Levin.” Dina was a friend of my sister. She was fat. She did have a nasty mouth.
“Yeah, Dina Le-VIN,” he said. In addition to her foul mouth, my father thought they were ridiculous. ‘It’s LEV-in or Levine. French. By way of Poland.’ “Anyway, Grandpa Ike was over and Dina and Laura weren’t letting you and Shelly on the swing set and Dina called you dumb little babies or something like that and pushed Shelly down. So, Shelly starts crying and you,” and he started laughing, “are 3 foot nothing and weigh 40 pounds. And she’s already 5 feet tall and 100 pounds. And you,” and he was really laughing.
I started laughing too. “What?”
He took off his glasses and rubbed his eyes. “You get up in her face and you push her and you say, ‘I may be a dumb baby but you’re a big fat bully and this is my swing set and get off. It’s OUR turn! And, damned if they didn’t.”
“OK…” I was lost how this related to me.
“Grandpa Ike and I were sitting on the deck watching this. He turns to me and says, with a big smile, ‘That one is going to be fine. Laura, she’ll need a man to take care of her. But that one. She’ll take care of herself.”
“That’s a funny story.” My recollection now was that I called her a big fat pig and my father told them to get off the swings and me not to call girls fat, but I didn’t remember a lot lately. “I’m not sure that I follow how this relates to now though. Sorry.”
“I was getting to that. My point was you can take care of yourself. You always could. Whatever happens, stay or go, you can take care of yourself and you’ll be OK. It’ll take a while but you’ll be OK. Which brings me back to the point which is, even if you’re angry at him, even if he screwed up, do you still love him?”
“I think so. Yeah, I do…what do you think?”
“I don’t have to think. You have to know. But, for what it’s worth, he fucked up, excuse my French…”
“I deal with construction all day, daddy…”
He rolled his eyes. “SOR-ry, my big shot lawyer daughter. So, you love him. Do you believe him? That this was one stupid mistake?”
“Should I?”
He paused. “My opinion? Yeah, you should.”
“I’m surprised. I didn’t think you liked him.”
“I like him fine. You don’t understand. It’s tough seeing your little girl love someone else.”
I started to tear up. “Stop…”
He started to tear. I hadn’t seen him do that since Tucker’s bris. “I mean that. He’s a good guy. A mensch. He made a stupid mistake. But he’s not a bad person.”
“I know. I want to forgive him but I can’t.”
If your mother was here, she would,” and he took on a singsong voice, “’Grandma Rosie would’ve said ‘forgive and forget.’ You know what though?” He smiled devilishly. “She’s not here. Grandma Miriam would’ve told you don’t forgive and you don’t forget. You move on and keep the card in your back pocket because you never know when you’ll need it. Laura’s Rosie. You’re Miriam.”
I laughed, “So I’m a bitch?”
He smiled, “Hey, that bitch is my mother! No. She wasn’t a bitch. But she was smart. She took care of herself. Like you.”
I laughed and leaned over and gave him a kiss. “Thanks, daddy. You can tell mom if you want.”
He gave me a kiss back. “I think we’ll keep this one between us.”
He walked me back to my apartment. “Are you going to be OK, Teddy?”
“I think so.” I gave him a kiss.
“Call me if you want.”
“I will.” He turned to walk away. “Hey daddy?” I said, touching him on the shoulder. “I love you and thanks.”
“I love you too.”
I walked in and Jess was on the couch.
“Where were you? I got worried.”
“Dinner. With my father.”
“OK. Can I ask how it was?”
“You can. It was good. We had a nice conversation.” She looked nervous, like she was afraid to ask anything.
“That’s good.” I walked into the bedroom to get changed. I took off my clothes and put on a t shirt and yoga pants. I laid down on the bed, looked at the door and thought, “Do I still love you? Yes, you piss me off but I still love you. But, do I still want to be married to you? Do I want to spend my whole life with you? Can I? Or am I just afraid of being a 33 year old divorced woman, when I had never been one – or any kind of woman – without you?
I sat in the bedroom for an hour going over the pluses and minuses. The obvious minus to staying – did I trust her? Could I? The pluses – we had been together for seven years and married happily, I thought, until this happened. She knew me. She understood me. Even after the change, she understood my moods and knew that I was Dan. Would another man or would he think I was some weird woman? Did I want to be with another man at all? With Jess, we weren’t man and woman, we were us. Could I be an us with someone else?
Then I thought, ‘we don’t know what this is. We don’t know how it happened. If we’re not together, does this become permanent? Am I OK with that? Do I want to be Jessica, to be a woman, no matter what? Or, maybe, if we split up, we change back. Do I want to be Dan without Jessica?’ I stared at the ceiling and just thought. My dad seems to think it was a stupid mistake. Everyone else thinks it was a stupid mistake. Do you?
I walked out. She was flipping through a magazine. I sat down next to her. “I’m ready to try again if you are.”
She let out a sigh of relief. “Thank you. Thank you. Thank you. I will spend the rest of my life making this up to you.”
“I’m making no promises. But I’m ready to try. That’s all I’m offering for now.”
She smiled. “Can I give you a hug?”
“Yes.” She hugged me. It felt good to be hugged again.
The next month it was like we were dating again. Except this time she was wooing me. She still slept on the couch.
Two weeks in, she called me at work, “Hey, Jessica. I was looking on line and Film Forum is doing a Scorsese retrospective and ‘Raging Bull’ is Saturday…”
“Cool, thanks for letting me know. I’ll see if Mark wants to go.”
“I was thinking we could go together.”
“You don’t like Scorsese,” I said. “And this one gets kind of brutal.”
“Yeah, but you do. And we don’t do enough stuff you like.” Which was true.
“Really?”
“Really. And we’ll go wherever you want for dinner.”
“OK. I’d like that.” It felt nice to be wooed.
We went to the movie. I was wearing a long floral print skirt, blue peplum top and sandals. Jess had worn an oxford shirt and black khakis which, to be honest, is nicer than I would have worn. I would have worn jeans and whatever button down shirt I found in my closet.
We left the theater.
“So what did you think of it,” I teased.
“I, uh, didn’t mind it that much.”
“You’re lying. You looked nauseous and bored.”
She smiled. “OK. So maybe I wouldn’t have seen it on my own. But I appreciated the performances. I get why people think Robert De Niro is so great.”
“And I appreciate that you saw it,” I said, kissing her on the cheek.
She smiled. “Thank you,” and she took my hand. “Is this OK?”
It felt right. “Yes, it is.”
We had Thai for dinner and walked home the 3 miles from the theater. Hand in hand.
We went into the apartment. Jess sat down on the couch to take off her shoes.
“I’m going to get ready for bed,” she said.
“Do you want to sleep in here tonight?”
She looked shocked. “Are you sure?”
“Yeah. Don’t get the wrong idea. We’re just sleeping. Nothing else.”
She smiled and walked in. “Thanks.”
We laid in the bed. I was wearing one of my old t-shirts. I didn’t want to lead her on.
“I’ve missed you,” she said.
“I’ve missed you too,” I said, giving her a kiss on the cheek. Physically, I wanted something more but mentally something held me back.
Jess kept wooing me. A week later, she sent me roses again. This time, I asked for a vase.
The next day, my phone rang. The phone said, “Stone Pharma.”
I picked it up, “Hey, Dan.”
All I heard was loud laughter. “Hello?”
More laughter then Dan’s boss Melissa got on the phone. “That was…hilarious,” she said, gasping for breath.
“What?” I said, innocently.
Jess got on the phone, laughing. “Do you know how much shit I’m getting?”
I had sent her flowers. That night, we had sex again.
“Are you sure this is OK?” Jess asked.
“I’m ready,” I said, with a smile.
“Um, this may hurt a little. It’s been a while.”
“So? I went eighteen years without sex?”
She smiled. “Um, it’s a little different for you now…”
I rolled my eyes. “You’re not that big. Sadly, I know this.”
“It’s not that…”
“Shut up and kiss me.” She did. And she was right and I was wrong. It hurt. Not mentally. It felt good to reconnect. Physically, it hurt like hell. Another lesson in womanhood, I guess.
That night, after she passed out, I put one of my nighties again for the first time in two months. It felt good. Right. I slept like a baby.
Thanks to Lizzy Bennet for her comments. They are much appreciated.
We were walking into the apartment after dinner with my parents.
“What’s wrong with this outfit?” I was wearing a blue women’s oxford shirt, black skinny jeans, boots and a black blazer.
“Nothing,” Jess said, with a smile. “You actually look really good. Clothes look good on you.”
“Why did she say something then?”
She laughed, "That is a separate question.”
“Why is she pushing my buttons?”
Jess grinned widely. “She installed them.”
“Why did she never bother me this much before?”
“Before you were Dan. She had Laura. Now she has you too. And she really hates that you’re daddy’s girl.”
“Stop.”
“No. It’s cute. You really are.”
“Stop. Anyway, now she has me freaked out about partnership.” At dinner, she had asked me how many women partners there were and how many had children. When she asked, I had to think for a second. There were nine women out of sixty-five. I had never thought about it before all of this. I always saw the partners as ‘partners.’ When everyone is like you, you don’t have to see anyone. “Like, if we …and I’m the one…am I jeopardizing my chances?”
She sighed. “Let’s look at this logically. You said there are 10 female partners, right?”
“Nine.” That one suddenly made a difference.
“OK, nine. How old are they?”
“Two are in their 60s. The rest are, I don’t know, between 40 and 55, I guess.”
“OK. You said five of them have kids, right?”
“Yeah.”
“Is that the older ones or the younger ones?”
“The younger ones.”
“OK, so, we’ve established that, as we approach you, a female partner, all things being equal, is more likely to have kids. What about the most recent partners?”
“They both have kids.”
“OK, so, now we’re increasing our odds even more. Now, how many people made partner last year?”
“Two.”
“Out of how big a group?”
“Fourteen.”
“So, your odds are not great but, if you do make it, and you will,” she said, kissing me on the cheek, “the data shows that, all things being equal, having a kid will not impact that.”
“Thanks, I always forget how analytical you can be.”
“That’s sexist. Or it used to be.”
I kissed her. “Yeah, well whatever. What do you mean clothes look good on me?”
“You are such a girl,” she said. “It means you pick the right clothes. And you look cute in them. And they hang well on you.”
“Really?”
“Don’t ‘really?’ me. I see you checking yourself out. I see the way that you fuss over your scarves. You do it and you like it.”
“No, I don’t.” I did.
“Yes, you do. And so do I. I like my stylish, sexy little wife.” It had been a while since she had said something like that. It surprised me and felt good. It felt like we were getting back to normal.
“It really doesn’t bother you? At all?”
“Nope. This is us. Whatever we were, we’re not now. Maybe we will be someday again. But for now, you’re a girl and I’m a guy. And this guy loves this girl just the way she is,” she said, giving me a kiss.
“I love you too.”
“So, have you bought a dress for the thing Friday yet?” We were going down to Jess’s parents the following week for Thanksgiving. They lived in a gated community in Key Biscayne. They had a party every Thanksgiving when families were down. It wasn’t black tie or semi-formal. Jackets for men. Cocktail dresses for women.
“Yeah. I went to Bloomingdale’s the other day.”
“Can I see?”
“Sure,” I said. I unzipped the garment bag. It was a black halter cocktail dress with a keyhole neckline. It was knee length. “What do you think?”
“Very pretty. Can I see it on?”
I took off my clothes and put it on. “What do you think?”
Her eyes bulged out. “You look gorgeous.”
“Really?”
“Really. Did you put on Spanx?”
“No, should I? Do I need them?” I felt self-conscious.
“No. I’m just amazed at how good you look without them. Your hard work is paying off. I am so proud of you. What shoes?”
I took out a pair of black Manolos with a 4” heel and put them on. “How do I look?”
“Walk for me.”
“Pervert,” I said with a smile.
“Yeah, but let me see.” I walked back and forth. “That looks perfect. What else are you bringing?” I took off the dress and was standing in a bra and panties.
“My white skirt. The one that goes with the blue top. Although, it could go with really anything…”
“Uh huh,” she said, with a smile.
I ignored her. “My blue floral swing dress. The one from Old Navy that you like so much?”
“OK.”
“Some jeans and some tops. And I went past Vineyard Vines the other day and I saw these three really cute dresses and I can’t decide which to keep. Do you want to see?”
“Vineyard Vines, huh? I could see that.” I ignored that. “Let’s see.”
I went to my closet, got the dresses and put them on the bed.
The first was a green, blue and yellow horizontal striped shift dress. Mostly green and blue. “Try it on.” I slipped it on. “OK, give me a turn. OK, definitely that one. You look beautiful,” she said, grabbing me.
“Hey come on. I want to show you the next one.”
“Fine,” she sighed, smiling.
It was a pink polo dress. “What do you think?”
“Meh. What else?”
The last one was a blue dress with a print of angelfish on it. It ended a couple of inches above the knee. I held it up to me and said, ““OK, what do you think of this? Is the print too cutesy?”
“Cutesy? No. I like it. Try it on.” I put it on. “Wow.”
“What?”
“I can’t explain but I find that incredibly sexy.”
“Sexy? This?”
“Yeah. I can’t explain it. I mean it’s not slutty sexy. But there’s something about it that I find really hot. Is that weird?”
I thought about it. “No. Women don’t get it. Sometimes a t shirt and yoga pants is hotter than a dress and heels. I can’t explain it. You feel what you feel. Lots of guys feel that way. You’re a guy. You have guy parts.” That felt weird.
“OK. You know what else?”
“What?”
“I think I love you.”
“I love you too.”
“Those dresses are you.”
“Thanks.”
She seemed surprised. “No, ‘what does that mean?’”
“I know what it means. I’m me. You’re you, or you were you. Just because I look like you used to look doesn’t mean we like the same stuff. Any more than me and Sammie or me and Michelle or me and Lori.” She looked shocked. “Sorry, I don’t mean anything bad by that.”
She smiled. “I didn’t think you did. I’m glad you get it. Speaking of Lori, have you heard from her?”
“Not since she canceled plans on me abruptly. She said ‘something came up.’ I said to call me. She hasn’t. And I’m not chasing after her.”
She sighed. “She does that. That’s her. If you called her, she’d make plans.”
“Then I guess we won’t make plans. Sorry, but she’s been nothing but negative to me since I lost all the weight. I don’t need that. And neither did you.”
“I know. Maybe this is one of the good side effects of this. Maybe I needed this.”
“I’m not telling you what to do. I just can’t deal with her.”
“I know. It’s just strange. 24 years. By the way, did you get bathing suits?”
“Yes and it sucked. Big time.”
She laughed, “Yup. Definitely don’t miss that.”
“Shut up. Seriously. What the hell? What is up with that?”
“Women. You all really dress for each other.”
“I don’t.” To be honest, I wouldn’t know how.
“You’re different. Anyway, can I see?” I showed her. “One pieces? Really?”
“What’s wrong with them?”
She looked surprised. And sad. “I figured that you would have gone for a bikini?”
“Seriously? No. No way. Nuh uh.”
She smiled devilishly. “After all that work, you don’t want to show it off. You’d be hot.”
“Yeah, well no. I am so not there. I am nowhere near there. And will never be.”
“Methinks the lady doth protest too much.”
“The lady wanteth you to be quiet.” Actually, the lady started to wonder. Could I pull it off? Was this the trip? Maybe in another five pounds. The lady got depressed thinking about how she was thinking about this like this. I thought about asking Jess whether she would have done it, then decided to not go there. Nothing good would come from that.
“Sorry,” she said, with a smile, grabbing me by the waist. “I think you’re hot. And I want everyone to be jealous.”
“Who everyone?”
“Other guys…”
“The old men at the pool? Nice try. I think you mean Jill.” Jill was Jess’ older sister. She was a PhD in economics, naturally thin and pretty in a mom sort of way. She took after their mom. Jess resented her. I always felt like it was a one-sided feud.
She smiled. “That’s not it at all…” It was.
“Yeah, sure. Whatever. I’m not wearing a bikini.”
A couple of days later, Jess’s mom called.
“Honey, it’s the judge,” I said, looking at her phone. Jess was in the bathroom. Her mother was a federal judge in Miami. We all called her mother, ‘the judge.’ Even her father.
“Can you get it?”
I picked up. “Oh, hi, Evelyn. How’s everything? Oh, that’s good. How’s Marty doing? Sorry to hear that. Yeah, I could see how that’s annoying. I don’t know why. Why do any of them do anything?” I laughed. This was maybe the longest non-work conversation she and I had ever had. “That’s really interesting. I can’t wait to see them either.” She and I were now talking about Jill and her family. “I know they live near here. Schedules have been crazy.” Oh yeah, and your son who used to be your daughter cheated on me and I haven’t really been interested in seeing any of you guys, nothing personal. “Well, we’ll have plenty of time together. A black halter dress with a keyhole neckline. Knee length. Oh, that sounds pretty. I can’t wait to see it. No, I’m sure it looks beautiful. Send me a picture.” My phone buzzed almost immediately. “I don’t know, silver shoes would definitely work, although blue could give a hint of color too. Royal. Not navy.” I was scaring myself. “Drop earrings definitely. I was thinking studs. I don’t know. I just think they work. (Sigh) I’ll bring both. We hadn’t planned anything unless Dan made plans with his high school friends or anything. Ha ha. You’re right. That is funny. No, none of them plan anything except maybe to watch a game.” I used to be them. Now I was us. And this conversation was interminable. “We are totally open. I think we’re renting a car. No, you don’t have to send Charles,” Marty’s driver “to get us. Well, won’t they need the SUV? Oh, they’re renting one. OK, fine, send Charles. We’re on, hang on let me check my phone. American flight 697. It lands at 2:30. Of course, I’ll text you once they tell us that we’re ready for takeoff. I’ll let Dan know that they’re golfing on Friday. Does Marty have a set of clubs he can borrow?” Jess couldn’t use mine since I was lefty. I lied, “His are in storage. OK, great. Work is fine. Busy. Hopefully, they’ll let me relax. How’s the bench? OK, we’ll talk about it when we’re there. Love you. Love to Marty too.”
I turned to see Jess with a huge smile. “Why did I miss that?”
I laughed. “We’ve now spoken more than we did in the past seven years collectively.”
“Get used to it. What would blue shoes work with?”
“Shut up.”
“Seriously.”
I showed him the phone. His mother was wearing a silver dress with short sleeves to the party. “This is what she’s wearing.”
She paused and said, “I wouldn’t have thought blue shoes, but that could really work. Wow. Good call. And the drop earrings?”
“I just thought with her hair and the dress that they’d look pretty…oh god.” I put my head in my hands. “I’m scaring myself.”
“Why?”
“Because I’m giving the judge fashion advice that works?”
“So?”
“So? So?”
“Yeah, so. You have great style. Better than me.”
“But, it’s one thing when it’s me and another when it’s her.”
She paused again, “OK, whatever,” she said, with a smile. “Why didn’t you send her a picture?”
“Because…”
“Because why? Because you want to surprise them. You want them to ooh and aah over you. I get it. You are such a girl.”
“Shut up,” I said. She was right.
“Let me guess. You’re already deciding between the new green and blue dress or that little white skirt for the flight, aren’t you?”
I blushed. “I said shut up.”
“Go with the skirt. Save the dress for when we’re not going to be sitting for several hours.”
“Oh, you’re golfing with your dad on Friday. Lucky you.” Marty was one of the more annoying people to golf with. He wasn’t a bad guy except that, on the course, he alternated between offering you “advice” on your game and gloating over his. “Do you want to go to Chelsea Piers tomorrow to practice your swing?”
“Do I need to?”
“You haven’t played since we went last summer. And you’re not you. You’re me. And your father is going to give you lots of advice and give you shit. So, yeah.”
“No he won’t.”
“He may not have given Jessica shit. But I guarantee you he’ll give it to you now.”
We went to the range the next day.
“You’re swinging like you have breasts.”
“What?”
“Your swing is messed up. There’s nothing blocking you. Just swing easily. Practice.” She started swinging the club.
“Now you’re getting the hang of it. Now hit the ball.” She drove it about 220 yards and straight.
“Wow!”
“You’ve got the perfect combination. My body and your mind.”
She lifted an eyebrow. “It’s about time you realized that.”
“Don’t get full of yourself. What I mean is that you’re not trying to crush the ball, just hit it straight. Keep doing that and you’ll do great. Everything else, and I mean everything, I’ve got the perfect combination. My brain and your body.”
She smiled. “You’re even better. You’ve got your brain and an even better body.” She kissed me.
“OK, you win.”
The following Wednesday we were on our way to the airport. I was wearing the white skirt, with a blue top and flats. “Do I look OK?”
“You look amazing.”
“Seriously? The judge and Jill can be brutal.”
“I don’t know that? You look fantastic. Girl.”
“Stop. I’m just nervous.”
“You’re Jessica. They’ve known you for seven years. As Jessica. You’re just a hotter you,” she said, giving me a kiss on the lips.
“Stop…”
The flight was uneventful. One of the pleasant side effects of all of this was that I had a lot more room to sit. Jess looked miserable, crammed into her coach seat.
We landed and Charles picked us up. It still felt weird to have a driver. We pulled up to the house. It was seven bedrooms with a pool and cabana and 100’ of frontage on Key Biscayne. Dan’s father was an ophthalmologist who, when Dan was in junior high school, opened a chain of laser eye surgery centers. They moved to the house when Dan was fifteen. It was beautiful but I always felt like I was in a museum rather than a house. My parents’ house was comparatively nothing, but at least I wasn’t afraid to touch anything.
Jess’ mom was at the door. Evelyn, the judge, was 68 years old. She was 5’5” tall and maybe 110 lbs. She wasn’t healthy, just thin. I was getting stuff out of the back, so Dan went up first.
“Dan,” she said, giving him a hug and kiss on the cheek. “You look like you’ve lost weight.” Every time she saw Jess the first thing she noted was weight. The second thing was clothes. Neither was ever good enough.
“Hi, mom. Yes, about 25 lbs. I’ve been working out and running.”
“Well, it looks good.” I walked up to the door.
“Hi, Evelyn,” I said, giving her a kiss on the cheek.
“My g-d Jessica, you look spectacular. Turn around.” I happily complied, turning left then right. Jess was right. This was what I wanted. I was such a girl. “What have you been doing?”
“Running. Spin. Pilates. Stopping eating.”
“Well, it is working. How much so far?”
“26 lbs. Plus, I’ve lost three sizes.” Dan stood behind her, mouthing “girl,” and smiling.
“You look absolutely gorgeous. And I love that outfit. And the bangs. Everything is perfect. Good job.”
I blushed. “Thank you. It’s always hard to see it on yourself,” I lied.
“Dan, you should be very proud of her. Beauty and brains.” OK, that was weird. She never said much to me when I was Dan, unless we were talking about caseloads.
Jess smiled, “I am.”
Just then, Dan’s sister Jill came out. “Hey stupid,” she said, grabbing him around the waist from behind. Jill was six years older. Like I said, she was a PhD in economics and worked as a consultant. She was 5’8”, probably 145-150 lbs with brown hair and green eyes. She was married to Yoram, an Israeli high-frequency trader. They lived in Chappaqua and had two kids, a twelve-year old named Sarah and a five-year old named Yonatan, Yoni for short.
“Shut up,” Jess said, playfully but with an edge that you’d hear if you knew to look for it. They kissed each other on the cheek.
Jill saw me and went, “Oh my g-d, Jess, is that you? You look phenomenal!” OK, that felt good. “Turn around.” I never realized how much women said that, but I liked doing it.
“Hey, Jill,” I said, giving her a hug and kiss. “Thanks. You look terrific.”
“Please. How much? How did you do it?”
“26 pounds. Three sizes. Like I told your mom, running, spin and Pilates. Dan totally motivated me.”
She looked at him and said, “That’s great, Dan,” then she turned back to me. “That is a really cute outfit. And I love your hair. What made you decide on bangs?”
“Thanks. I just decided one day to see how they looked.” Jess rolled her eyes. This was fun. “I love your sandals.” She was wearing cute sandals. What? They were cute.
Jess looked me up and down, shrugged and said, “I’m going to take our stuff to the room. No, it’s OK. You girls continue on without me.”
We talked for a couple of minutes and then I excused myself. I came into the bedroom to find Jess putting her stuff in the dresser. This was Jess’ old room but you’d never know. It looked like a guest room in an expensive hotel. Very nice but very austere.
“Hey, honey,” I said, giving her a kiss on the cheek.
“Hey. I’m unpacking.”
“I see that. What’s wrong?”
“Nothing.”
“That’s not nothing. What is it?”
“Nothing. Did you have fun?” She said, with a subtle edge.
“What did I do?”
“Nothing. You didn’t do anything. You just got more of a greeting than I did. Sorry.”
“That’s just because they haven’t seen me.”
“They haven’t seen me either.”
“Yeah, but you’re a guy. They totally treat guys differently. I guess I never noticed.” Or cared. “Maybe it’s because it’s so much easier for you to lose weight. You can lose three pounds by skipping a meal. You said it yourself.”
She smiled, “True enough. You were so cute the way that you were lapping it up.” She started twirling. “26 pounds. And three sizes!”
“Shut up…I’m proud of myself. Shoot me.”
“I’m proud of you too. Three sizes? Really?”
“Yup, the stuff from Vineyard Vines? Sixes.”
“A six? I don’t think I ever was a six. No wonder they were so impressed. They were never that impressed with me.”
“Yes, they were.”
“No, they weren’t. Sorry. Enjoy it. Don’t let my shit get in the way.”
“It’s not your shit. It’s your feelings.”
“Wow, we really have switched places.”
I laughed. “Jeez.”
“It’s fine. I’m teasing. And I am proud of you, for real.”
“Thanks.” I could tell that she was already getting upset about being here. “Let’s find some stuff to do while we’re here. Just us.”
“We’ve only got four days, but I appreciate the thought.”
“Do you want me to tell them you’re taking a nap?”
“Nah, I may as well go down. I’ll have to do it sooner or later.”
I walked out the door and Jess pinched me on the ass. “Excuse me?”
She grinned. “I couldn’t resist. First time I’ve pinched a size six ass.”
We went downstairs and Yoram came in from the pool with the kids. The kids went to their rooms to change.
I gave him a hug and kiss. “Ma nishma, Yoram?” ‘How are you’ in Hebrew.
“Kol b’seder. Ma shlomech?” ‘I’m fine. How are you?
“Kol b’seder.”
He grinned. “At hama.” Jill playfully slapped him. It means ‘you’re hot.’
“Funny, Yoram,” Jill said.
“Seriously, Dan, your wife looks amazing. You lose weight too?”
Jess batted her eyelashes, as she gave him a hug. “I didn’t think you’d notice.”
“You know I love you too. Just different.”
Jill laughed, “What he means is he never misses a pretty girl.”
“You want me to?” He played the stereotypical macho Israeli, but he was actually a brilliant computer scientist who spoke English, Hebrew and Russian. He and I always got along. We were the outsiders in the family.
Just then Sarah came in. She was 12 years old, 5’2”, 125 lbs. with brown hair and blue eyes. Basically, she looked like Jess at 12.
“Hey, Sarah,” I said, “How are you?”
She came over and gave me a hug. “Hey, Aunt Jessica,” she said, timidly. “You look great.” I knew she meant it but she said it in a sort of rueful tone.
“So do you. How’s school?”
She looked over at her parents. “It’s…fine.” I made a note to try and talk to her. To be honest, I didn’t know what to say. I didn’t get 12-year old girls when I was 12 and I doubt time had made me any better at it, but she looked like she could use someone.
Jess smiled. “Nothing for me?”
I didn’t know why, but Sarah gave him a quick look of disgust. Not that anyone else would notice but I had been on the receiving end of it from Jess, when she was Jess, more than a few times. Then she gave him a hug. “Hey, Uncle Dan.”
“What are you up to these days?”
“Nothing. Stuff.” She turned to Jill, “Can I go take a cookie?”
“How many have you had today?” Evelyn said.
“I don’t know.”
“I do. Four. So no.” Sarah looked mortified. Jill just sat there. I was going to say something but stopped.
“I’m going to go text Emily.” She left the room. Poor kid.
Evelyn turned to me. “She’s getting a little chunky.”
“She looks OK to me.” I started to say, ‘maybe if you didn’t make her feel bad, she wouldn’t sneak down here later and gorge like your daughter used to,’ but figured I’d hold off. For now. Jess sat there mute, like she always did.
“Anyway…” Just then, we were saved when Yoni came in.
“Uncle Dan!”
“Yoni!” Jess said, as Yoni tackled her. “Ow, ow. Let me up.”
Jill smiled. “Yoni and Dan. Between them, they’re thirteen.”
“Hey,” Jess said. “I am at least…nine. Which makes us fourteen,” she said, wrestling with Yoni. She seemed happy.
“So, Jill, what’s new in the world of consulting?”
“Ah, the usual. Actually, I just got offered a position at Vassar. Adjunct.”
“That’s amazing. How did that come up?”
“One of my old mentors at UC heard about the position and called me. I’m trying to decide though.”
“Why? I’d love to teach.” I had thought about it but not seriously. But it would be nice to be asked.
“The kids. It’s an hour each way.”
Yoram piped in, “I keep telling her we’ll figure it out. It’s not night school. Yoni’s in kindergarten now. We’ll be fine. We’ll pay Cora some more.”
This both alarmed and comforted me. It made me think about partnership but it also made me realize that we could make it work. “You should totally do it. You’ve always talked about it.”
“Ah, we’ll see. How’s work going, Jess?”
“Good. Busy. We have this litigation involving fraud in this big condo being built in the Flatiron.”
“Federal or state?” Evelyn said, her eyes brightening.
“Right now, state. AG is looking over the books now.”
“I’d think you’d have a wire fraud action at least. RICO. Bring it to a real judge,” she said, with a grin.
“I’d say I disagree, but I don’t. Anyway, I’m on the civil side. That’s a state thing for now. Get some international buyers and we’ll try and remove it.”
“Keep me in the loop. It sounds fascinating.”
“Macro level, yes. Micro, it’s just motion practice for now.”
“Will they let you try it?”
“Second chair. Depositions. Probably some questioning, should it get there.”
“If you came down here, I could ensure that you’d be first chair.”
That came out of left field. We had never had this discussion before. “Um, what?”
“New York trained lawyers are valued down here. We have a work ethic.” Evelyn was born in the Bronx, went to Columbia Law School and only moved down here when Marty was offered a position at Mt. Sinai. “I could make sure that you were some place you wanted to be.”
Jess piped up, “And what would I do?”
“You could get your MBA.”
This was a sore spot among Jess and her parents. They were big on grad school. Jess was not. “Wow, mom, less than two hours. Won’t Dad be upset that you took first crack?”
“I just don’t understand what you have against it. We all have graduate degrees.”
“Yeah, OK. And I don’t.” I could see Jess getting upset.
“Dan is doing great at work. He’s taking the lead on a product launch,” I said.
Yoram looked at me, gave me a quick smile and said, “That’s great, Dan. Can you discuss it?”
“It’s a targeted cancer therapy. Goes after basal cell carcinomas.”
“That’s terrific, Dan,” said Jill. “So what do you do on that?”
“I’m in charge of coordinating marketing to physicians and working with the sales directors to detail it.”
“I’m really proud of him. This is a big deal,” I said.
Evelyn said, “I’m proud too. I’m just thinking of the future.”
“My future is fine. If I thought I needed it, I would get it. But I don’t. So leave me be, OK?”
“Fine…we’d pay, if that makes a difference.”
“It doesn’t. The company would too. I just don’t want to do it. When will you ever learn that?” Jess said, her voice rising.
“There’s no reason to get upset.”
Jess said, “Fine. Whatever.” This was going to be a fun trip. “You know what? I’m tired from the trip. Wake me up when Dad gets here.”
I followed her to our room. She laid face down on the bed. “Do we have to stay?” She said.
“I’ll look for rooms,” I said.
She rolled over. “That’s not an option,” she said. “I just can’t deal with it.”
“Do you want me to say something?”
“Absolutely not. That’ll make it worse.”
“How?”
“Stupid Dan can’t fight his own battles. He needs his wife.” It was interesting that she said Dan without pause. I still vacillated between thinking of myself as Dan and as Jessica.
“That’s not it. I was just trying to help.”
“I know.”
“Try and relax. We’ll have a good time,” I said, kissing her neck.
“Thanks, but not now.”
Ouch. I tried to joke. “Well, being back here brought back an oldie but a goodie.”
“Ha.”
“You want me to leave you alone.”
“Can you stay here and not talk?”
“Ouch.”
“Sorry. I just don’t feel like talking but I want you here. Is that OK?”
I got it. Sometimes you wanted someone there, even if they didn’t say anything. “Sure, I’ll read.” I read while Jess fell asleep. I looked over at her sleeping form and hoped that it would get better.
After about half an hour, I tiptoed out and walked past Sarah’s room. She was sitting on the bed playing with her phone.
“Knock knock,” I said, “Mind if I come in?”
“Hey, Aunt Jess.”
“Hey, so how’s everything going?”
“Good.”
“What are you doing?”
“Looking at Instagram.”
I leaned over and saw selfies of 12-year old girls. “Interesting. Wanna talk?”
She looked like she was going to say something then stopped. “Um, not really?”
“I won’t say anything to anyone.”
“OK?”
“Well, if you want. Don’t let Grandma bother you.”
“I don’t.” She did. I could tell.
“OK, well, if you want to talk, I’m down the hall.”
“Thanks,” she said, in that teenage way that said “No way.”
I went downstairs to find Yoram on the couch. “Where is everyone?”
“The judge is in her office doing whatever it is she does. Jill went to nap. Yoni is, I don’t know, playing with the iPad or setting a fire.”
“It’s a good skill to have. He could get lost in the woods. What do you think?”
“I think it never changes.”
“Nope.”
“I’m waiting for Marty. That’ll make it better,” he said, with a grin.
I was curious to see how he reacted to Dan. He always kind of ignored then condescended to Jess. “Oh yeah. What did she do to Jill?”
“She’s a bad mother. Sarah. Yoni. She needs to lose weight. He’s a wild animal. Blah blah blah.”
I started to say something about Sarah then stopped. I figured I’d see what happened over the next few days. “Because she was the perfect mother. Which is why her son and daughter are napping,” I said, making air quotes, “at 4:30 in the afternoon.”
“I know. I’m staying at a hotel next year.”
“Can I come?” He laughed. “How’s work?”
“Work is work. Mostly good. Sometimes bad. We’ll see with this lunatic. But, it’s always work.” That was a very Israeli answer.
“I hear you. Promise me you won’t gang up on Dan at golf.”
“Why would I? I want to get in the middle of them?”
“Thanks.”
“He’s good to you?” That was weird.
“Uh, yeah.”
He looked at me and said, “Then I’ll leave him alone.”
“Thanks.” We sat for a while. I read. He played with his phone. Neither one of us spoke. I think we worried about what was coming next.
At 6:30, Jess’ dad walked in. “Hey you two.”
Yoram got up and gave him a handshake.
I stood up and gave him a kiss, which felt weird. “Look at you,” he said, “You look terrific.” Evelyn walked back in. “Evelyn, did you see her?”
“No, Marty. Jess, when did you get here?” Did all couples do this kind of shtick? Would Jess and I? If so, who would I be? Marty or Evelyn?
“Well, anyway, you don’t even look like you. You look beautiful.”
“I’ll take that as the compliment I assume you intended and not the insult it came out as,” I laughed.
Yoram shouted, “Sarah. Yoni. Grandpa’s here.”
“Where are my children?”
I was about to say they were napping, when Jess came down. “Hey dad.” I was surprised she didn’t call him ‘daddy.’ She gave him a hug.
“Hey Dan. You look good. How’s work? Flight OK?”
“Thanks. Fine. Uneventful.” She moved into the grunts and abruptness that characterized my relationship with Marty with ease.
“We’re playing the Doral on Friday.”
She looked at me. “Great. Mom says you have clubs I can use.”
“Yes. By the way, my swing coach has been teaching me some techniques I can show you.” Yoram smirked. I knew why. By the end of a round, we were fighting over who’d get to beat him first. Yoram used to joke, “Can I offer a suggestion?” That was Marty’s favorite. “Use a 5 iron to beat him, more control.” I’d respond, “Open the club face. You’ll draw more blood.”
“Thanks for the heads up.”
“Work’s good?”
“Yeah. I was telling mom I’m taking the lead on a new product launch.”
Marty didn’t listen, he waited to talk. “Terrific. Work is great for me. We’re opening a new center in West Palm soon. You had your MBA, you could come work for me.” Yeah, that was a selling point.
“I like my job. I like New York. I don’t want an MBA.” I could see her withdrawing.
“I don’t understand. We’ll pay. My parents didn’t pay for med school. Most people would appreciate it.”
I tried to stop this. “It is appreciated, Marty…”
“See Dan? Your wife gets it.”
Jess looked at me. I said, “What I was saying was while it’s appreciated, he doesn’t want to get it. Anyway, tell me about the new center…” I knew that would distract him. And it did. He talked about it for fifteen minutes. Evelyn left the room.
Dinner was miserable.
Every time Sarah went to eat anything but a vegetable, Evelyn would say, “Sarah. You don’t need that. You have a pretty face, don’t waste it.” Then, when no one was looking, she’d take a piece of bread. She really was Jess.
Every time Yoni acted like, well, a five-year old, she would say something like, “You’re in my house. Stop behaving like an animal. You can do that in your own house, I suppose.”
Neither Jill nor Jess spoke. I knew that they were both trying to avoid a fight. I wanted to say something, but knew that would only make things worse. Not with Evelyn and Marty. I didn’t care about them. I was concerned about me and Jess, especially after everything.
After dessert, Sarah said, “Can I take Yoni for a walk?” What she meant was, “Can I please get out of here?”
Yoram said, “So long as you bring him back.”
Evelyn, Jill and I cleared the plates.
Evelyn turned to me and said, “What does he have against graduate school?”
I wanted to say that Jess had enough school and that should be enough but figured we had another three days together. “It’s not his thing.”
“Make it his thing.”
“Have you met your son?”
Jill laughed, “Seriously, mom?”
“I’m glad you think this is funny. I’m concerned for his, for your future.”
I thought, ‘our future is still not 100%.’ “If I thought it would make a difference, I would push him. But it doesn’t. Also, for what it’s worth, he doesn’t respond to being pushed.” No, she retreats and eats. Like Sarah is doing. So stop. Which came out as, “If it’s time to get it, it’ll be time.”
Jill looked like she avoided a bullet. She hadn’t. “Jill. You need to do something with your children.”
“I’ve offered them for sale, but there are no takers.”
“I’m serious. Sarah is going to balloon up if you don’t do something.” And she’s going to balloon up if you do, Evelyn. Not my fight though. Not yet, at least.
“Ma…”
“You need to explain that to her.”
“Ma, if I say I will, will you stop?” She wouldn’t.
Eventually, we went to bed.
“Your mother is driving me nuts,” I said.
“Wow, we really have switched. That’s usually my line,” she said. “Why? She’s been nothing but ‘Jess, tell me about work,’ ‘Jess, you look fabulous.’ ‘Jess, tell Dan he’s being stupid.’”
“She didn’t say that last thing…”
“Well, she didn’t spend twenty minutes talking about MY job.”
I tried to joke. “It’s a lawyer thing. We only get discrete jobs, like doctor, lawyer, fireman…”
“She talked to Jill about her job and no one gets that…”
This was going to get bad. “I tried…”
“I know. I’m just annoyed. What is she driving you nuts about?”
“Sarah. That poor kid.”
“What?”
“Giving her shit every time she puts food in her mouth.”
“I know, but that’s what she does.”
I started to say something but stopped. “That doesn’t make it right.”
“My sister doesn’t say anything. Why would you?” She said it in a way that left it that she didn’t want to talk.
“I guess I just feel bad for her.” And for Jess.
Her face softened. “I know. I do too. But there’s nothing you can do. One day down.”
I kissed her on the cheek, “It won’t be that bad. Tomorrow’s another day.”
It was another day and it was that bad.
I came into the kitchen in the morning before my run to see Sarah eating a cookie.
“Hey Sarah,” I said, taking a drink of water.
“Please don’t say anything,” she pleaded.
“Why would I?”
“Really?”
“I get it. If you want to talk…” I really wanted to talk to her, but wasn’t going to push.
“Thanks,” she said, “maybe later.” She said that in a way that would serve her well at college parties when she wanted to get away from a guy. I knew that ‘maybe later.’
That was the highlight of the day
Dinner was a mess. Marty started in on Yoram and Dan.
“So, Yoram, have you fixed that hitch in your swing?” Yoram had no hitch in his swing. It was the swing of someone who played golf when he had to, not because he wanted to.
Yoram was an old pro in dealing with Marty, so he smiled, “No. I’ve decided to keep it. It’s my gift to you. The gift of criticism.” Evelyn and Jill laughed.
“I’m trying to help you. It’s no fun beating you when there’s no challenge.” He turned to Jess. “So, Danny, what about you? Have you been working on your short game? I hate seeing you in the bunkers all the time. Once you get there, it doesn’t get out of your head. By the back nine, you’ll be crazy.”
I knew that this was just Marty being Marty. Don’t get me wrong – I hated it, but I could ignore it. Jess couldn’t. “What, dad?”
“Last year. You spent more time in the bunker than Hitler.” This was Marty’s favorite joke. I used to respond, “Moses spent forty years in the desert. One hole won’t kill me,” which drove him nuts.
“Whatever. I’ve been working on my swing.”
“You always do what you always did and you’ll always get what you’ve always got.”
In the meantime, Sarah and Evelyn continued.
Evelyn brought out a chocolate cake and fruit for dessert. She gave Yoni cake and, when Sarah asked, told her, “Why don’t you have fruit?”
“Can I have a small piece?”
Evelyn said, “That’s your decision,” and gave her the thinnest slice of cake I had ever seen. Honestly, I don’t think Marty cut that thin during eye surgery.
Later on, Sarah volunteered to clear. I found her in the kitchen eating half-finished cake.
She looked at me in fear. “Please, Aunt Jess…” I mimed zipping my lip. “Thank you.”
We were in bed later. I had brought the teal nightie Jess liked. When I came to bed, she didn’t even respond.
“Wow, make a girl feel welcome.”
“Sorry,” she said, in a rote way.
“Do not let him get in your head. Just do what we did at Chelsea Piers. Play Jess’ game with that amazing body you have.” That got no response. “I’m serious. He’s trying to get in your head.”
“Why?”
“Because you’re his son. Remember what you said to me about my dad? How now we’re not competing? Well, now, you are. Well, he is.”
“I don’t want to.”
“You are though. But do it your way. Play your game. Don’t worry about distance. Worry about accuracy. Worry about getting it in the hole.”
She smiled. “Getting it in the hole?” She grabbed me by the waist and kissed me. “Can I get it in the hole?”
“Shhhh. Everyone will hear,” I said, pulling off her shirt.
“So?” She said, kissing my earlobes then my neck.
I was getting excited. “They’ll look at me…”
She started fingering me. “Come on.”
I rolled over, “Oh g-d…” I wanted her in the worst way.
We were so excited and stressed that she didn’t put on a condom. It felt good.
After we were done, she said, “Wow. That was amazing. Thank you. Oh shit….”
“What?”
“I didn’t use a condom.”
“Oh, g-d. Hold on, I had my period like two and half weeks ago. I don’t think I’m ovulating. Oh g-d, I hope not.”
“Why?”
“Because…because..because I wasn’t planning on getting pregnant.” That wasn’t entirely true.
“Really? You seem pretty into it with Sammie.”
“Yeah, well…I just thought…I thought…that it would be a little more planned than this.”
“I’m sure you’re not. Would it be so bad if you were?”
“What if this is what changes us back? Would you be OK?”
She looked briefly horrified. “I asked first.”
“I don’t know,” I said, with a smile. I knew. I wanted it more than anything.
“I do. You’d be amazing. You’d be an amazing mommy. Better than Jill. Better than mine.”
“Speaking of which, poor Sarah.”
“She has a mom.”
“I caught her sneaking cake off the plates in the kitchen.”
Jess sighed and just said, “Yup.”
“Yup?”
“Yup. Been there, done that.”
“And that’s OK?”
“No, but what can you do about it?”
“I just…”
She kissed me on the cheek, “I love you,” and then fell asleep. Men. All the same. Even those who weren’t born that way.
By the time we got up in the morning, I was gunning for Evelyn.
Jess, Yoram, Marty and Yoni went to the pool and then were going for golf. Marty had bought a set of kids’ clubs for Yoni and told him that, “Grandpa’s going to teach you golf.” Great – another generation tortured.
The women were going shopping. Evelyn wanted the Aventura mall, but Jill and I vetoed that, on the grounds that it was Black Friday and would be a mess. We settled on the Lincoln Road Mall. The Lincoln Road Mall isn’t a shopping mall per se. Rather, the city had closed off streets to all but pedestrian traffic so you could walk between the stores and restaurants.
We got there around 12:30. "Why don't we have lunch beforehand then walk around?" Jill said.
We had lunch at Spris, an Italian place. The food was good but it was one of the more uncomfortable meals I'd had in a long time. Every time Sarah looked at the bread basket, Evelyn gave her a look and a shake of the head.
"Can I have pizza?" she asked Jill. The pizzas were small and thin crust. As Dan, I would've eaten one myself.
"Do you really need that?" Evelyn said.
"How about if we split it," I said. "So long as you don't want anchovies or pineapple."
Sarah smiled, "Ewww, gross. Can we have sausage?"
"Sure." Evelyn glared at me. Jill intently studied the menu, mute.
The waitress came over. Evelyn pointedly ordered "the chicken and beet salad, dressing on the side," while looking at me. Honestly, that's what I would have ordered, had she not given Sarah flak.
"We're going to split the pizza with sausage," I said with a smile, looking right back at her. The waitress looked like she wanted to run. Jill, like she wanted to hide. Sarah, like she was watching a fight where she didn't know which side to take.
The meal was no better.
"So what are you doing in school again?" Evelyn asked.
"Um, like math and Social Studies and Chemistry? The usual stuff."
"Like chemistry? What's like chemistry?"
"Chemistry."
"Then say that. Like is for comparisons.". She wasn't wrong. I hated when people did that. But I wasn't going to say that. “Also, stop answering like you’re asking. Have confidence in what you’re saying.” OK, that was frightening.
I decided to try and change the topic. "What are you reading in English? That was my class."
"Lord of the Flies."
"I loved that book." I did. Every guy in my class did. It was still a go to reference in meetings. That and sports. Everyone wanted to think they were Ralph, maybe Simon. The reps were all Jack. I was more Piggy than I wanted to acknowledge.
"Yuck. It's a boy book."
It was. "What makes it a boy book?"
"I don't know. It's all boys and they beat each other up and stuff. It just is."
"That's a weak argument. Wait until you get to Hemingway and Kerouac. Those are boy books.". That got a laugh from Jill and Evelyn.
"Huh?"
"Never mind. What's a girl book then?"
"The Crucible". She was right. All it needed was a princess.
"Fine. Don't worry so much about girl books and boy books."
Lunch was uneventful. Evelyn kept grilling her.
At the end, there was one slice left. Sarah went to reach for it when Evelyn said, "you don't need that. Put it down."
Sarah dropped it and started to tear up. Then she got up and ran across the plaza.
I looked at Jill. "Mind if I talk to her?"
"Stay right here," Evelyn barked. People turned. "She's being ridiculous".
"JILL, do YOU mind?"
She looked at me, then her mother. "Good luck." I wasn’t sure for who – me or her.
I went over. Sarah was sobbing. "I'm not coming back."
"I wasn't here for that."
"Really?".
"Nope. In fact, why don't you and I walk around?"
"What about mom and grandma?"
"They'll do what they do. We don't get enough time together alone.". Counting this time, it would be...Once.
"Um, OK?"
"Don't make me feel so wanted."
She smiled. "I didn't mean that."
"I'm just teasing.". I looked over at Jill, pointed to Sarah then me and mimed walking with my fingers. Jill looked at me and mouthed, "go."
Sarah and I started walking around, looking in the windows. "I'm ready to talk when you are," I said. "No judgments. Thoughts if you want them. Just listen if you don't."
"I need to lose weight."
"Why?"
She looked shocked at the question. "Why what?"
"Why do you need to? Did the doctor say so?"
"No?"
"Are you having trouble doing things? Walking? Gym? "
"I suck at gym."
"I didn't ask if you sucked at gym. I asked if you had trouble running or something. I sucked at gym but I could run or do exercises. Can you do that?"
"Yes. Did you really suck at gym?".
"Yup. I was always picked last. Ask anyone." I wasn’t but Jess was, so it was true. Sort of. "So we've established that you're healthy and can do stuff. So, why do you think you need to lose weight?"
"Well, grandma says I do."
I thought for a minute. This was a fraught statement. I knew what I wanted to say which was the truth. But that would open a whole other can of worms. "Ok, look. I'm going to say something but it stays here..."
She smiled, "ooooh."
I smiled. "I'm serious. I'm talking to you like an adult. What we say here stays here. Deal?"
"Deal. What?". She was pulsating with excitement. It was cute.
I smiled, "your grandmother. Women of that age...um, have no idea what they're talking about, especially about weight. They think thin is healthy."
"Uh huh...".
"Yeah. I know you were expecting something worse. Sorry. But seriously, it's not just weight."
"But you lost weight. And everyone tells you how good you look."
I smiled. "I didn't start out losing weight.". No, I started out losing my penis. "I woke up one day and felt blah. So, I decided to start running again. And I felt better. The weight came off because I did stuff to be healthier. I could starve myself like your grandmother, but I wouldn't be healthy. Uncle Dan and I ran five miles yesterday. Do you think she could?"
She surprised me. "She can't drive five miles."
"You're funny." She smiled. "Sarah, I will never tell anyone to lose weight. I've fought it my whole life. I won't even tell anyone to exercise. I mean I feel better when I do it, and don't get me wrong, I like the way I look, and if you want to join me tomorrow, I would love it but I am not telling you to do lose weight."
She sighed. "Why does she do it?"
"Your grandmother?"
"Yeah. And my mom."
"Like I said, your grandma is 70. When she was your age, that's what people knew I guess. Thin equaled healthy. Exercise was weird. Watch a movie from even the 1970s. The women have no tone. They look gross. But that's what she knows.". She looked unhappy with that excuse. "But that's no excuse for saying what she said. Like I don't get what she thinks that is going to accomplish. "
"Did your mom do it?"
I tried to remember what she did to Laura. She gave her shit about outfits and makeup and how she spoke, but weight surprisingly was never there. "No. She was bigger on how you dressed and stuff, plus my mom has gone up and down - a lot."
"I still don't get it. Why does she do it?"
"Mothers and daughters? If I could figure that out, I'd be rich. Did you ever ask your mom?"
"No. My mom doesn't have a weight problem. Besides, she and grandma are fine."
"First, you're old enough to know this," I said with a smile. "Every woman has a weight problem. Second, watch them sometime. Grandma knows how to push her buttons just like my mom does and yours does. Know why?"
"Why?"
"They installed them. But, you can fight back. Next time, when your grandmother says something, look at her and say - politely - 'respectfully, I don't appreciate that and I wonder why you said it.'"
"I can't say THAT."
"Why?"
"Because... because..."
"See? If you want to l...be healthier, let's talk strategy. Do you want that?"
"Yes..."
"Ok.". We walked past a CVS. She looked at a Snickers bar. "Do you want that? You can have it. My treat."
"I can't have that. It's bad."
"First things, there are no bad foods.". I picked up the Snickers and a banana. I started wiggling the banana and saying in a stupid voice. "You're bad."
She looked mortified. "Stop," she hissed.
I smiled. "Nope." Now I made the Snickers say, "I'm not bad. Maybe it's my childhood.". An older woman watched us and smiled, trying to figure out our relationship.
"You are sooo weird. You are embarrassing me...". She was turning red.
"Your childhood? Mine was worse. My parents were BANANAS."
She pulled me out. "That was awful. That joke wasn't even dad bad. It was GRANDPA bad.". But she was laughing.
"My point was that there are no good foods or bad foods. Some are healthier than others. Some have more calories. But they're not bad. If y.." I started to say you, but figured she'd heard enough about her today. "If I want something, I have it. But I think, 'do I want this or am I upset or stressed or something?'. And if I still want it, I have it."
"Seriously?"
"Seriously. I mean I don't keep stuff around because I know me." I was a compulsive eater. Even as Dan, I had to stop buying pints of ice cream or big bags of chips. "But I have it when I want it."
"But people say stuff when I get stuff. Like my friends will be all like 'how can you eat that?''
"Are you eating gross stuff?"
"No, just like if I get ice cream instead of yogurt, they say something about how much fat it has."
"Look at them and say, 'then don't eat it.'. Say it enough and they'll stop. But you can fight it. Don't let other people tell you what you should do." I knew that that was nearly impossible for any 12-year old. We'd all like to think we had that kind of strength then. We didn't. Most of us still don't. But I figured it was worth a shot.
"Um, Ok."
"Seriously. How's school going?"
"I hate it. Boys stink."
"They do.” In retrospect, I did. “Any particular reason?"
"You won't tell?"
"I won't"
"You have to promise."
"I promise."
"Not mom. Not grandma. Not even Uncle Dan."
"This isn't anything where you could get hurt, right?""
"No."
"Then I promise."
"Berkowitz has saggy tits," she said, in a singsong voice. Yup, that was 12-year old boy behavior.
"Who says that to you?"
"Boys."
"All of them?"
"No, just these three stupid ones."
"What do you say to them?"
"Shut up?"
"Now, that doesn't work, does it?" I knew it wouldn't. I was a 12-year old boy. Once.
"No..."
"So, let's figure out how to stop them. Tell me about them. Who's the weakest of them?"
"Huh?"
"Who's the biggest follower? You start by picking off the weakest of the herd."
"I'm confused."
"He makes fun of you for how you look. Do the same."
"Mom says I should just ignore him."
"Do not repeat this. But she's wrong." I smiled. "Promise you won't repeat that."
"I promise."
"Good. So what does he look like?"
"He has a bunch of zits."
"Next time they start, smile and say, "hey look at that. I never noticed but if we connect all the dots on your face, it makes a cat!"
She started laughing. "That's mean!"
"And?"
"And uh... I don't know."
"Tell me about the next weakest."
"Justin Gordon. He's fat."
"Does he have moobs?"
She giggled. "Yes.". Boys. Girls. Moobs are always funny. The word still was to me.
"OK. When he does it, look at him and say, 'yours are so big. I'm so jealous. There’s a sale at Pink on bras. Wanna go next weekend?" You want to kill a 12-year old boy? Compare him to a girl.
"I can't say that!"
"Why?"
"Because I'll get in trouble!". She said stretching out the last word.
"Don't say it in class," I said, smiling. "We've gotten rid of the followers. Tell me about the ringleader."
"Jordan Glick.". Jordan Glick? This was going to be like shooting fish in a barrel. A proper use of simile.
"Jordan Glick...Jordan Glick...Lights a candle wick. No, that's stupid. Doesn't even really make sense. Jordan Glick knows a cool trick. No, that's not really an insult. Jordan Glick has a small..."
"I can't say THAT," she said, laughing. "I'd get suspended."
"He won't tell. Trust me. He's going to tell the principal that he made fun of your...chest and then you said he had a small penis?"
"What if I get caught?"
I put my arm around her. "Luckily you have access to a great lawyer."
"Even if you and Uncle Dan get divorced?"
That threw me for a loop. "Where did you get that from?"
She rolled her eyes. "I'm not an idiot. I'm twelve.". I couldn't speak. "And he slept at our house and mom was yelling at him and he was crying..."
"He was crying"? I tried to suppress a smile.
"Yeah. And you guys haven't touched each other."
"Huh?"
"You used to always touch each other on the arms and legs and kiss each other and now you don't. What happened?" I never knew she was so observant.
"It's complicated."
"You don't want to tell me. Adults always say that whenever they don't want you to know something."
I smiled. "You're right. I hated that. But it is complicated...And not for me to explain, y'know?"
"Fine. Did Dan do something?"
In response to my sigh, she said, "why are boys so stupid?" I didn’t know I was before this. Now I knew I was. I just didn’t know why.
We walked through the mall after that. We talked about life - well, as much life as a 12-year old has. She talked about how she hated the fact that her best friend Emily would drop her if a more popular girl wanted to hang out, and then they'd turn on her. It was like "Mean Girls" in real life. I thanked g-d that I got to be a 12-year old boy. We'd just hit each other.
We walked past "Forever 21".
"Can we go in"? She pleaded.
"Sure."
My phone buzzed. It was a text from Jill.
'How's it going?'
'Fine.'
'Anything I should know about?'
'No. 12 y/o drama. Totally normal.'
'Lmk'
'I will. In Forever 21 now. Loud. Very loud. And bright.'
'Good luck. :)'
'How's the judge?'
'Calm before the storm :("
"Who was that"?
"Your mom checking in. I didn't tell her anything."
She smiled. "I know. I trust you." I liked that.
We walked past a rack of skirts. She held up a short blue skirt with buttons up the front. "This is cute. I'm going to try it on, OK?" She ran off with a big smile.
She came out. It ended at the bottom of her thigh.
"That's cute."
"Y'think?"
"Totally. I saw a top that would totally go with that.". I was scaring myself. "Hang on.". I got it and she tried it on.
"Definitely. That definitely works. Take it off."
"Huh?"
"We need to pay for it."
"Seriously?"
"Yes."
"Can I pay you back from my birthday money?"
"What?"
"I don't have any money with me."
"And if you did, it wouldn’t matter, because you're not paying. I am."
"Really? I don't know if my parents will be OK with that". Her smile betrayed her feelings and made it worth it.
"Yes, really. And I will deal with them". I handed her two more tops. "Go try these on."
We left the store and walked past a store with pocketbooks. She saw a black leather Coach tote bag.
"This is pretty."
"It's an old lady bag. Try this," I said, handing her a small two tone blue leather Tory Burch cross body bag. "That is definitely better."
"Can I get it? It's so pretty."
I looked at the price. $325. "OK, this needs your mom's approval."
"For my bat mitzvah?"
"Sure. IF she says OK and your grades stay good, yes.". Her bat mitzvah was in March. If Dan and I stayed together, I was going to surprise her with it for Hanukkah. I hated that I still thought that way sometimes.
"Thank you!" She said, hugging me. "Thank you!"
Just then, Jill texted.
'Time to go. Please.'
'That bad?'
'Yesyesyes. :)'. Funny how a 38-year old PhD could be reduced to emojis by her mom.
'We'll meet you by H & M.'
"I think your mom has had enough grandma time," I laughed. "We're meeting by H & M"
"Can we do this again?"
"Any time, Sarah. You can come in to the city if you want."
"No matter what?"
I smiled. "Stop being a drama queen.". I thought about what she was saying and it saddened me. I'd miss Jess's family but knew a relationship wouldn't, couldn't and probably shouldn't happen.
We met up with Jill and Evelyn. Evelyn was quiet. Jill was right - calm before the storm.
"Wow, what did you buy?"
"Aunt Jess bought me a skirt and some tops. She is soooo cool," and she hugged me.
Jill laughed. "Aunt Jess is a sucker."
"You have no idea," I laughed. "Remind me to talk to you about what she wants for her bat mitzvah," I whispered in her ear.
"How much do I owe you?"
"Zero. My pleasure."
Evelyn said, "Can we go please?" Uh oh.
Jill and Sarah talked the whole trip about what we saw. Evelyn drove, with a death grip on the wheel. I was going to text Dan to see how golf was but didn't want to be that person who interrupts a round.
We got home. Sarah ran into the house to send selfies to her friends of her new outfits.
Evelyn curtly said, "I have sentencing memos to review."
Jill looked at me and said, "Oh boy...."
We walked out to the pool. "So what did Sarah have to say?"
"I told her I wouldn't say anything but don't worry. Like I said, twelve-year old drama. Nothing to be concerned about. If there was, I would tell you."
"I know. I'm glad she'll talk to you. She wouldn't talk to me."
"Would you have?"
She looked at the house and raised an eyebrow. "You?"
Well, I was never a 12-year old girl but went with, "Uh, no."
She laughed. "So what does she want for her bat mitzvah?"
"A Dooney and Bourke cross body bag."
"How much?"
"$325."
She laughed. "Seriously?"
"I told her you had to approve and she had to keep her grades up."
"Sure. Make me the bad guy," she smiled.
"Come on. I want to be the cool aunt."
"If you have to buy their friendship, then they're not really your friends, are they?"
"Ha ha. Come on. It's her bat mitzvah."
She rolled her eyes. "Fine. You are such an easy target. I can't wait until you have kids." I must've flinched because she said, "Sorry. That was stupid. Speaking of stupid things, how are things with my idiot brother?" Jill said. We were dangling our feet in the pool.
"Um, fine..."
"I mean since everything happened."
"Oh yeah. Sarah said he was at your house crying?" I involuntarily smiled. "Sorry."
She laughed. "Please. I'd be dancing. "
"I didn't know he came to you."
"You never wondered where he was? Really?"
"Nope. Would you have if Yoram did?"
She laughed. "I know where the hospital is. And the morgue. I just can't believe he did it."
I got annoyed. "I know he's your brother but he did."
"Oh, I know he DID it. He told me. In between crying fits. That's just not him. Did he give a reason?"
"Not really. There's not really a reason, is there?"
"I guess not."
"Does the judge know?"
"Not from me. No way."
"Really?"
"My PhD is in economics, not stupidity. I was not going there."
"Thanks."
"So what you do from here?"
"I don't know. Wait and see, I suppose." Wait and see if I was pregnant. Wait and see if she cheated again.
"I don't know that I could do that," she said, swirling her foot around.
"What other choice do I have? I can get divorced which I don't want to do at this point. And I can't just let it go. It hurt. A lot. Sorry."
"For what?"
"He's your brother?" I wasn't upspeaking. I just couldn't believe she didn't know why I was apologizing.
"So? He was wrong and I love you Jessica. If I could have a little sister, I'd want her to be like you. Not that you're not but you know what I mean."
"Thanks. I know what you mean. Me too. I mean I love you and I'd want a sister like you too."
"What about Laura?"
"Oh shit," and we both laughed. I thought about it. I couldn't picture having this conversation with Jill before. She and I never talked to each other before. I mean we talked about things. But not to each other. And I couldn't picture Jess and Laura doing it either. There was always an undercurrent of hostility there. It was no one's fault or both of their fault. But it was there.
I excused myself to get something to drink. I went to our room to get my Kindle and walked past Evelyn's study.
"Can I speak to you, Jessica?" Oh shit.
"Sure. What's up?"
"Close the door. Sit down."
"Is everything OK?"
"I don't appreciate being undercut in front of my granddaughter."
"What?"
"I don't appreciate being undercut in front of Sarah."
I started to apologize and stopped. I wasn't sorry and was going to defend myself. "How did I undercut you, Evelyn?"
"Excuse me?"
"How did I undercut you? You've made an accusation that I undercut you and I respectfully disagree. So, please explain."
She looked angry. "You went over after I said no to her. And then you went off with her."
"I will agree that I did that. However, I disagree that that constitutes undercutting." I took a Webster's off the shelf. I thought she was going to strangle me.
"Undercut," I said, thumbing the pages. "Did I offer goods and services at a lower price than you?". OK, that was obnoxious. "I didn't. Did I cut away or weaken the part below or under you? Also, denied. Did I weaken or undermine you?"
"Yes. Yes, you did."
"How? How did I do that? Did I tell her to eat the last slice? No. Did I tell her to ignore you? No I didn't."
"You went over to her after I said not to."
"I went over after I asked HER MOTHER if it was OK, and she said yes. I asked her parent and was given consent. Ergo, I didn't undermine you."
She got up and came around the desk. "You undermined me by asking," she said, looking me in the eye. "The act of asking is per se undermining."
"I will stipulate that you perceive it that way. But, I acted solely to comfort Sarah. A reasonable person, reviewing the evidence, would agree. As I lacked the requisite intent to knowingly undermine you, I object to your characterization."
"Overruled," she snarled. Then she started laughing.
"What?"
"I just overruled an argument,” she said, laughing so much that she was gasping.
I laughed. "Well, I objected..."
"Did you hear us? Per se undermining? Stipulate that I perceived it? Requisite intent? Normal people do not argue that way," she said, giving me a hug.
I exhaled then laughed. "You're wrong. Normal people don't TALK that way. Don't limit it to arguing. Please tell me I don't sound that way with regular people."
She laughed, "I can't. Know why? Because I can't tell anymore.". In a mock-AA voice, she said, "My name is Evelyn and I'm an attorney."
"The first step to recovery is admitting you have a problem..."
We both sat down. "Seriously, Jess, what got into you today?"
"Honestly, Evelyn? I see a lot of," and I almost said Jessica, "me in her. This poor kid. She sees all this stuff in the media about what she should look like. And her friends tell her all the wrong things about what to eat. And she's getting her period. And boys stare at her chest. And the one person who's supposed to be in her corner makes her feel worse."
"I certainly didn't intend to."
"I know that. I don't think you said let me figure out how to make my 12-year old granddaughter feel terrible. But, I get it. People tell you that if you eat one candy bar and you'll be 300 pounds and you end up screwed up. You binge in secret and then you hate yourself and it's a vicious cycle. Trust me, I know."
"I understand that. But the world judges us on our appearance. When I started out, we were sure that we'd change everything and forty-something years later and we're still here. A 300 pound male lawyer and a 200 pound female lawyer are trying a case. Who does the jury believe? I see it all the time. I see it on their faces - men and women. Tell me I'm wrong."
I sighed, "You aren't. But..."
"And look at what they said about Hillary. Do you think a fat woman with a bad spray tan and hair like that would even be a candidate? Maybe it's easier now..."
"It isn't.". I realized that now. As I lost weight, people treated me better. It wasn't right but I took advantage of it.
"Again, I don't mean to be mean but I want Sarah to get everything. And women are worse than men."
"I hear you. You're right. I see it with the women in my office. One of the partners is one of those...uh...big women you were talking about and I've heard associates - female associates - call her Sasquatch. I get it. And I don't want Sarah to deal with that either. But you giving her..flak..."
"You can say shit," she said, with a smile.
I smiled. "You giving her shit doesn't help. She's twelve years old. Like I said, she's got her friends and the media and all this other crap to deal with. She's got the rest of her life to realize that the world sucks and men are sexist and women are catty and cruel." Wow, I don't know where that came from but I knew it was right. "Let her be a kid. Let her have hope. I was just trying to get her to think healthy."
"Is that how you got to this? Because you look great. Although I watched you and Jill do Pilates and, sorry, no thank you," she laughed.
Well, no, technically I got here by losing my penis. The first eight inches..OK, six...were the hardest. "It's a good pain," I said, laughing.
"Yeah, that's what they told me about sex."
I laughed. "OK, TMI, Evelyn. Anyway, it took me 20 years to get here. If I can help her a little, so that she can maybe have it easier than... I did, sorry, but I'll undermine you, Jill, everyone if that would do it. I know you don't get it but I know what it's like...". Obviously, I didn't know. I know what people said to Jess. But she didn't know that.
She smiled ruefully. "Don't assume facts not in evidence."
"Huh?"
"Look at me. Boys may have stared at your chest but I didn't have a B cup until after Danny. You don't think boys noted that? I would have killed to have your chest."
Huh. "Point taken."
"You couldn't pay me to be twelve again."
"Me either". I mean, technically, I never was. Not in the way she thought. I wanted to go back and apologize to every girl I knew.
"Jessica, Dan is lucky to have you."
"I'm not sure he feels that way always."
"I'm serious. I told him as much after he did what he did. I told him that he made the stupidest mistake of his life and that he better try and make it right or he'd be sorry forever."
I was, for the first time in a long time, without words, without thoughts. All I could say, "Wow. Thanks. He told you?"
She laughed, "You seem surprised."
"Kinda. I mean I can't imagine telling my mother that I... I mean... I... I don't know. Sorry."
"I know what you mean. I certainly wouldn't have told my mother. I was surprised that he did, to be honest. By the way, I saw the flowers. Nice touch on the TRO."
"Please tell me that you didn't tell him to do that."
"Now, THAT offends me," she said, laughing. "No, that brilliant move was all Marty."
"Sorry I cheated on you. Roses'll fix that! Sorry, Evelyn, I mean he's still your son...."
"Please. He did a stupid thing. No, he did the wrong thing. And you know that's not how we raised him."
"I know. I never blamed you or anyone other than him."
"Can I ask how things are going?"
The question felt weird. But it also felt like she sincerely wanted to know, with no malice behind it. "Better. I told my dad better getting to good."
She gave me a hug. "I hope it gets to good soon."
"Me too."
"Jessica, we're on the same team with Sarah. Let's try not to offer goods and services at a lower price than each other, OK?"
"Agreed. I love you, Evelyn." I don't think that I had ever said that before. And I meant it.
"I love you too, Jessica," she said, hugging me. "I'm glad you care so much."
I went back out to the pool.
"You were in there a while," Jill said. "Everything OK?"
"Yeah, I was talking to the judge."
She whistled. "Still in one piece...wow."
"Nah, we had a good conversation. Tense for a while."
"About?"
"Sarah."
"Um, I'm glad you two are deciding things for my daughter," she laughed. "You want her? She just started her period."
"Oh wow, um, that's so nice but....no, we were just talking about how she handles things with her. She means well."
"I know. And she's wrong. And I don't do anything. I don't know why I let her do what she does."
"For the same reason I let my mom get to me. She trained you. Anyway, I told her I see a lot of me in Sarah. She's trying to figure things out and she's got all this shit coming at her and she wants to have a cookie and your mom gets in her face..."
"I hear you. Thanks for sticking up for her."
"She's a good kid. I told her that she can come in any time she wants. You too if you want."
"Thanks."
"The judge asked me about Dan."
"What?"
"He told her."
"No!"
"Yup."
"Jesus. And?"
"And nothing really. Like I told you, there's nothing to say. It happened. Either we'll be good or we won't. I don't blame anyone but him. I told you that."
"I'm glad you and her honor resolved things. I was worried when we were walking around. She really likes you. I think that's why she got upset. That and you're like her."
"Hey!"
She laughed, "I mean the good stuff. The smart. The caring. The passionate. Not the controlling. Not the sarcastic. Not the eating disorders."
"Thanks, I guess."
We sat by the pool reading for a while, when I heard the car pull up.
"Leave me the fuck alone," I heard Jess yell. Then I heard the clatter of golf clubs.
"Oh shit," I said to Jill.
I walked out to the driveway to see Jess snapping a Callaway driver over her knee.
Marty angrily said, "That was a $300 driver."
I saw Jess take out her wallet. "Here's $200," she said, throwing it in Marty's face from about two inches. "I'll Easy Pay you the rest."
"I don't want your money, Dan. I need your $300?"
"That's what it's about with you. That's all it's ever about. Fuck you. Fuck. You. I don't want anything from you."
I turned to Yoram and, under my breath said, "so I'm guessing golf didn't go well."
Evelyn came outside. "Bring this inside. NOW."
I followed them in. Marty said, "What the hell is your problem, Dan?"
"My problem is you."
"That's enough," Evelyn said. "What happened?"
I went over and took Jess' hand. "What happened?" She pulled her hand away abruptly, which hurt.
“He’s overreacting,” Marty said.
What Jess did next surprised me. She got in his face and snarled, “I’m overreacting. You couldn’t take it that I was kicking your ass and you just had to fuck with me…”
“Dan, stop the cursing,” Evelyn said.
“Sorry, you just couldn’t take it so you had to mess with me. Pathetic old man.”
Marty looked right back at Jess. “Poor baby. Can’t handle when someone doesn’t pat him on the head and give him a cookie. How do you expect to succeed at work when you can’t handle golf?”
I walked over to Jess and put my hand on her back. She pulled away. “OK. I’m going in the other room.” I was hurt.
I heard Jess yell, “I can handle work – not that you give a shit about it. I can handle golf too. You pulled that shit at my company, you’d be out.”
“You and all the little snowflakes. My outings, people can handle it.”
“They don’t handle it. They TOLERATE it. Because you pay them. Well, you don’t pay me. I don’t need your money. We do fine without you.”
I came back out. “Dan, please, let’s go outside.”
Jess snarled, “Fine. I’m done. I hope you enjoyed the round, DAD. Because it’s the last round I’m playing with you.”
“Damn right it is,” Marty yelled. He walked into his office and slammed the door.
“Let’s all calm down,” Evelyn said.
“Yeah, mom, well, it’s the last time we’re staying in YOUR house. I’m done,” she said, as she walked out. I followed behind. Evelyn and I looked at each other.
We walked outside and Jess took a 3 wood and hurled it into the neighbor’s yard.
“Wow, someone’s getting a nice club,” I joked.
“I’m not in the mood.”
“Do you want to talk about it?”
“Not now.”
“What happened?”
“I said not now. That means not now.”
“OK,” I said meekly.
We walked around the community. After 45 minutes of silence, Jess said, “We should get back. We have the thing.”
“We don’t have to go. Let’s go to dinner. Just us.”
“No. We should go. My mom wants us too. You bought a dress.”
“I’ll return it. I kept the tags on.”
“Now you’re my grandmother?”
“Shut up. Seriously, let’s not go.”
“No. We don’t go and he wins. And that’s not going to happen.” Jeez, we really had switched places.
The party was at 8. At 6:30, I said, “I have to start getting ready.”
For the first time all day, Jess smiled. “I know. I don’t miss that part at all.”
“Shut up.”
I showered. I shaved my legs. I plucked out stray hairs, pumiced my feet, brushed my hair and put on make up. Then I got into the dress and put in my studs. Jess? 25 minutes before we had to go, she shaved and showered. I liked being pretty. I didn’t like this.
I came out into the living room. Everyone oohed and aahed.
Jill was wearing a black cocktail dress and heels. “I hate you,” she said, with a smile.
“Please, I hate you too.”
Jess came over and said, “Wow, you look fantastic.”
Evelyn laughed, “Daniel, tell her you’ll never complain about long it takes for her to get ready.”
I laughed, “He knows better.” And she did.
Evelyn was wearing the blue shoes and the drop earrings. She turned to Jill and said, “What do you think?”
“I like it.”
“Jessica suggested it. She has great taste.” I liked that too. Jess rolled her eyes.
I whispered in Jess’ ear. “Are you sure you want to go?”
“Yes. I’m fine. Besides, I have the hottest girl there.” I don’t remember ever saying things like that. Should I have? Is that why this happened?
We circulated around the party saying ‘hello’ to all the usual suspects. The women mostly complimented me. The others looked me up and down.
Dan and I were talking to the son and daughter-in-law of Marty’s business partner when Evelyn came over. “Excuse us. Jessica, I have some people I’d like you to meet.”
We walked over to a couple. “Larry Hernandez, Debbie Weissman, I’d like you to meet my daughter-in-law Jessica. Jessica is an attorney in New York. She and Dan are down for the holiday.”
Larry smiled, “Evelyn has been telling us a lot about you.”
“All good, I hope.” I was wondering what this was about.
Debbie laughed. “Mostly. Which for a mother-in-law is pretty good.”
Evelyn laughed. “Larry is the head of the Dade County Democratic Party and Debbie is a finance chair at the DNC. I, of course, am studiously non-partisan.”
“Wow. It’s been a tough few weeks, I’m sure.”
Debbie said, “You have no idea. I’ve got donors who can’t handle the fact that it was taken from under us like that.”
I took a deep breath, “Respectfully, I disagree. It wasn’t taken. It was lost.”
“What are you saying?” Larry said, with genuine interest.
“I mean, we can all sit there and talk about how she won the popular vote and how the electoral college is garbage but that’s the system. And we like it when it works for us. So, you have to deal when it doesn’t. And we can talk about what she did or didn’t do in the Upper Midwest, like not campaigning in Wisconsin since before the convention, and how she lost districts that Obama won there by double digits, but I don’t think that’s useful to be honest.”
“Why?”
“Well, because it’s over. Because Bill and Hillary are over. Which can be a good thing.”
Debbie smiled, “Meaning?”
“Meaning, we can focus on the future and what we need to do. And, with all due respect, there’s too much focus on the top of the ticket. Like, since I don’t know, JFK, the party has been focused on the top of the ticket. Like we’re looking for Jesus to save us, whether it was JFK or Clinton or Obama. That’s the wrong focus.” They were all looking at me. “Sorry.”
“Don’t be,” said Larry, “keep going. I’m interested.”
“I can stop. I’ve talked too much.”
Debbie said, “No, please keep going. What would you do if you were us?”
I took a deep breath. Evelyn seemed OK so I kept at it. “Down ballot races. Not just Congress but state and municipal races.”
Evelyn said, “Interesting.” They all nodded. “Explain.”
“First, in four years there’s a census. That’ll be used to draw district lines. You want to control district lines, you control a statehouse. And those are relatively cheap races to run. They’re not as interesting as getting a chance to ride on Air Force One, but they’re important. And people need to realize that. Plus, you develop a bench. I mean I like Bernie and Warren but they’re not exactly young.”
Evelyn smiled, “That hurts.”
I blushed. “I didn’t mean it that way. But they aren’t. And neither is Pelosi or Steny Hoyer. Meanwhile, Cruz is around 44, Rubio’s about the same and there’s a whole bunch more behind them. I hate them but they’re here for the long haul. We need our own and focusing on finding a savior doesn’t do that. I mean I’m sure I’m not telling you anything you don’t know.”
“You are and you aren’t. So, what do you plan to do about it? And don’t tell me you liked a Facebook post or signed a moveon petition.” Larry said.
I smiled, “No. This,” I mimed tapping my finger on a phone, “is literally the least you can do. You need to be active.” I believed that. Too many of my friends thought that constituted activism.
“So what’s your plan?” Debbie asked.
“I’m here. Tell me how I can help.”
The three of them laughed. What Larry said next shocked me. “Run for office.”
“Um, excuse me?”
He turned to Evelyn, “You’re right.”
“About?” I said.
“Evelyn told us how smart you were. She didn’t tell us you were so passionate and knowledgeable. We need a bench? Be that bench.”
“Uh…” I was gobsmacked. I never used that expression before, but it fit. “I live in New York. It’s tough to break in up there.”
Debbie smiled. “Then move here.”
“I’ve never lived here. I’m not from here.”
She laughed. “This is South Florida. No one except Larry is from here. And even his parents moved here. You’re a young, smart, telegenic Jewish woman. I could do a lot with you. Do you speak any Spanish?” I was telegenic?
“I mean I couldn’t read Gabriel Garcia Marquez in the original, but I can get by…”
“I’m serious. You’re what we need. You can make a difference or do you just want to point fingers?”
I smiled. “Can I think about it? Also, I apologize but I haven’t seen Dan in a while. Let me go make sure someone hasn’t trapped him in a corner to complain about drug prices…”
My head was swimming. Someone thought I could be elected? I found Jess standing by herself, holding a glass of vodka.
“Hey, honey,” I said.
“Hey. You were gone a while.”
“Your mother wanted to introduce me to some people.”
“I gathered that. Who?”
“Larry Fernandez and Debbie Weissman.”
“The two Democratic people? Oh.” I should’ve let it go there but I was excited.
“Yeah. We were talking about the election and stuff.”
“Great.”
“What were you up to?”
“Not much. Talked to some people about golf. Drug prices. How great you look.”
“Well, that last one sounds promising.”
“Uh huh.”
“Where’s your father?”
“Over there.”
“Have you spoken to him?”
“No. And I’m not going to.” Boy, she really was me.
“Do you want me to stop?”
“Please. I’m just not in a good mood.”
Just then, Evelyn came over.
“You set me up,” I said, grinning.
“Guilty as charged. You did great. They loved you. Dan, did Jessica tell you what happened?”
Jess looked at her and flatly said, “No. What happened?”
“I brought her over to meet Larry and Debbie and they started talking and they’ve told Jessica she should run for office.”
“Wow, honey, that’s great,” Jess said, with minimal enthusiasm.
“It was just talk. I’m sure they say that to everyone.”
Evelyn said, “They don’t. If you moved here, you’d be in office in two years. They wanted to know your issue.”
“I don’t know. Infrastructure, I guess. Expand broadband to rural areas. But, I’m processing it.”
“Jessica, I’m telling you should come down here. Your talents are wasted up there. You have a New York brain. You would do very well down here. You too, Dan.”
“Thanks for including me,” Jess said. “Excuse me for a minute. I’m going to the bathroom.”
He left and Evelyn kept talking. “Jessica, this would be great for the two of you. We’ll pay for whatever you need. When you have kids…”
I smiled, “Um, hello? My body, my choice.” Evelyn had been big in the pro-choice movement.
She smiled. “That doesn’t apply to you. Your mother and I talked about it. Anyway, what I was saying, when you have kids, we’ll pay for them to go to whatever school you want.”
“Evelyn, thank you. This is a lot to process. Just let me think about it, OK?”
“I’m very proud of you, Jessica.” I wonder if she ever told Jess that.
“Thanks. Dan seems out of it. Mind if I go find him?”
I looked around and found Jess outside, staring into space.
“Hey,” I said, touching her on the arm. “Is everything OK?”
“It’s fine. That’s great about Larry and Debbie.”
“That sounded sincere.”
“It is. I’m sorry. I’m just thinking about golf.”
She was lying and I knew she was, but I wasn’t going to push. “Next time, you’ll know better.”
“There is no next time. I said it and I meant it. I can’t deal with him.”
“You’re just not used to it. It’s part of the learning curve we’ve both had. I had my whole life to learn.”
“Well, you’ve learned your side of things,” she said, waving her hand up and down. “Sorry. I mean that in a positive way. I mean you’re doing great.”
“So are you.”
“Clearly, I’m not. My father thinks I’m a loser.”
“He doesn’t. He’s just binary. You need to lose for him to win. It’s fucked up. Ask Yoram how bad he is. We used to plot killing him.”
She smiled. “That’s my father you’re killing….”
“My point was that that is just who he is. You’re doing great at work. You were doing great at golf. You just let him feed you macho bullshit. Let me guess. He gave you shit about not using your driver.”
She nodded, “I really don’t want to talk. Sorry.”
“Do you want another drink?”
“No. I just want to be left alone. OK?” The ‘OK’ was said in a way that left no room for opposition.
Evelyn and Marty introduced to me to several more people. I wanted them to meet Jess too, but she was nowhere to be found. And Marty and Evelyn seemed in no rush to find her.
-----
I woke up at 6:30 Saturday morning to go the bathroom. I looked over and Jess wasn't there. I went to the bathroom, then went downstairs. I walked into the living room and found Jess sitting on the couch in the dark, absent-mindedly flicking her phone.
"Hey," I said. "I looked over and you weren't there."
She stared at the phone. "I didn't want to wake you."
"How long have you been up?"
"Since 3:30.". She looked depressed. Not tired. Depressed.
"What's wrong?"
"Everything."
"Talk to me."
"No. Yeah. I've been alone with my thoughts long enough. Can we take a walk?"
"Sure. Of course. Let me just put on a bra.". That got a small smile.
We left the house quietly and started walking around the neighborhood.
"What's up, honey? Why can't you sleep?"
"I thought it would be different this time."
"What?"
"Being here. I thought being you would be different, but it isn't. Or it is. It's worse," she looked like she wanted to cry.
"What's wrong?"
"I can't do anything right."
"What?"
“All the shit with golf. All the shit about my MBA. That’s all he talked about during golf. ‘Dan, when are you going to grow up? Your wife has an advanced degree. That the kind of father you want to be? Are you going to be that guy?’”
"Jesus. That is horrible. How dare he? I'm going to say something."
"No, you aren't. That would be worse. Like my wife, my lawyer wife, needs to defend me."
"Ouch."
"I'm sorry. It's not you. It's them. And it's last night."
"What? You mean what Larry and Debbie said to me? That's just bullshit. I mean I didn't think anything of it.". That was a lie. I thought about it a lot and it made me feel good. "I didn't know it bothered you. I would have walked away."
"THAT didn't bother me."
"I'm confused."
“You know, I've known Larry for years. He never said more than, 'how's school' or 'how's work ' to me. And he didn't listen to my answer. You know why?"
I was scared to ask. "No, why?"
"Because my MOTHER never thought to involve me. Last night, she was so proud to include you. She couldn’t wait to introduce you to people. The smile on her face when she told me about how they wanted you, YOU, to run for office. I never got that smile. She has the daughter she wants, that she always wanted. The one who can talk about what's important. Smart, gorgeous Jessica. Not fat, stupid Jess.". She looked broken.
I hugged her. "I'm sorry. I didn't know. I didn't mean to hurt you."
She took a deep breath. "No, I'm sorry. You didn’t hurt me. You were smart. You were funny. You were passionate. You were you and you were great and I'm not taking that away from you. My problems are my problems."
“No, OUR problems are OUR problems. We’re a team. And if I make you feel bad, even inadvertently, I'll stop."
"No, you won't. I'm proud of you. I was proud of you before. I'm prouder now. You can do anything."
"So could you."
She sighed. "No, I couldn't. And I can't. I'm good at what I do, but you're good at a lot. And before no one cared about me. No one noticed. You should run for office. I’ll support you, proudly. I’ll do all the wife stuff. Even like this. I can bake cookies.”
I smiled, “Since when?”
“OK, I’ll learn,” she said, cracking a small smile.
"Seriously, honey. I'm sorry. What can I do?"
She sat on the ground and looked down. "Nothing. I'm an afterthought in my own house. And it's not even mine. I mean, when you went home, yeah, the pictures and the stuff were different, but it was your house. Your room was your room, even if the color was different. The family room was the family room where you watched cartoons. Those were the stairs you slid down. You could see the marks on your doorframe where your dad measured you. I don't get even that. I never had that. I'm just some stranger in their house. Before, I wasn't much. My mom was the judge. My dad was the doctor and the business man. Jill was smart. Who was I? I was the fat, stupid one. But at least I was something. Besides my husband was smart, so they could placate themselves with that. Now, who am I? Just some guy in a place where no one else remembers him.". She started to cry.
I held her. "I didn't know."
"I know. And you didn't do anything. And I am proud of you. Don't feel bad because of me. I'm just...". And she kept crying.
I took her hands in mine. "I do feel bad. Because we're a team. Like I said, there aren’t your problems and my problems. There are our problems. When one of us feels bad, the other feels bad. Because we love each other. Right?". She nodded. "You are the best person I know. You were never fat, stupid Jess to me. You were smart and kind Jess. And you're smart, kind Dan now. And, if they don't know that, fuck them. I'm behind you all the way."
"I know. I guess I'm just facing myself for the first time. Does that make sense?"
"Yeah. I did it..." I almost said, 'when you cheated,' but that would be cruel. I looked at her and I can't fully explain it, but I realized for the first time why she did what she did and that she wouldn't do it again. I realized that she really had no idea who she was. She wasn’t Jess and she wasn’t Dan. Sure, she made jokes about periods and helping my mom but all she was doing was trying and discarding identities like a teenager to find what fit. It didn't make what she did right and nothing ever would. But, in the broken person sitting on the ground, I saw my Jess and I knew she wouldn't do it again. It's a cliche but I felt a weight come off me.
I took a deep breath. "Maybe this isn't the time, but I really...forgive you." I couldn't say forgive easily. My ego was in the way. But I meant it.
She smiled, a truly happy smile. "Seriously? You're not just saying that because I was crying?"
"How long have you known me?"
She got up and hugged me. "Thank you! Thank you! I will never stop showing you how much I love you and appreciate this, no, appreciate you. Thank you!". She kissed me deeply, with real love. Not just passion, love.
"I love you, Dan." I was surprised I said Dan, not Jess.
"I love you too, Jessica." She hugged me.
I smiled, “One thing. The driver? If you’re going to throw money in someone’s face, have all of it or don’t do it.” She started to laugh. “I mean, why didn’t you take out change?” I mimed, counting out change. “And here’s seventy-four cents.”
“And here’s a $50 Amazon gift card!”
We were both laughing. “And here’s 10% off Starbucks, so that’s like another 50 cents, 75 if you get a cookie…”
We walked into the house and Evelyn and Marty were sitting at the kitchen counter.
“Where were you two so early?” She said.
“Taking a walk.”
Marty said, “Do you want some coffee? We got this fancy coffee maker. I can make anything.”
“You sure?” I said. Evelyn smiled.
He puffed out his chest. “I can make you anything.”
“OK, a cappuccino, then.”
He fumbled around. “The one at work’s a lot easier.”
Evelyn said drily, “It’s a one-button. ‘Caroline, can you make me an espresso?’ See, easy.” She got up and made me a coffee.
“Anyway, so when Jill and Yoram and the kids get up, we’ll get breakfast and then go out on the boat.”
“Actually,” I said, “we’re seeing Adam and Vanessa today.” They were two high school friends of Dan’s. Years later, they reconnected and got married.
Jess smiled. “When did that happen?”
Evelyn looked at me and rolled her eyes. “When the magical plan fairy called them and made plans,” I said.
Evelyn chimed in, “Yes, the same fairy who buys food and does laundry.”
Jess smiled, “I don’t like you two ganging up on me. Seriously, when did that happen?”
“After your mom called, I called Vanessa. We’re going there for lunch. I wanted to surprise you.”
“Thanks,” she said, putting her arm around me.
Marty came over. “You calmer today?”
“Are you?”
“Yeah, well, we both got hot under the collar.” That was as close to an apology as he was going to give. Which seemed surprisingly fine to Jess.
“Yeah, we did. I can play my own game, you know.”
“I know. You were playing good. Don’t let people get under your skin so much.” That was it. That was all that I would’ve gotten from my dad. And it would have been enough. And Jess seemed to accept that.
Thanks again Lizzy Bennet for all of your feedback, encouragement and kind words
Dan and Jessica make a huge decision...but not without drama
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It was Charles’ day off, so Marty offered to take us to the airport.
It was only twenty minutes from the house to Miami International, but those were the longest twenty minutes of my life. South Florida traffic is, at its best, a harrowing experience. It’s a mix of people too old and blind to drive and people driving according to the law – the law, as Dave Barry says, of their home country. The speed limit is viewed as, at most, a suggestion. I was not a shy driver. I had cut my teeth driving in New York where defensive driving is viewed as a sign of weakness. Marty made me look like a little old lady. He was the perfect combination of New York trained aggressiveness and Miami obliviousness. He, as was the wont of many surgeons and successful people, believed that it was imperative that things be done immediately. A friend who had gone to medical school in Miami said that, during his surgical rotations, he observed Marty doing surgeries in 45 minutes that would take other surgeons 2 hours. He drove his Range Rover the same way. He would drive at 85mph, weave in and out of traffic and pull up an inch behind the bumper of whomever he wanted out of his way. Normally, I would have been in the front with him and thanked g-d that Jess now got to do this. I saw her grip the bar above her seat so tightly her knuckles turned white.
Finally, against all odds, we arrived at the airport. Marty opened the tailgate and Jess went to take out the suitcases. She lifted the large one with a grunt and gave me a look. I knew that look – the look of ‘how much stuff did you take?’ I just smiled a self-satisfied grin, taking out my wheelie carry-on bag. No, I didn’t miss that part at all.
Marty came around and gave Jess a hug. He leaned down and gave me a hug and a kiss and wished us a good flight, telling us that Evelyn told us to text when we landed. He and Jess hadn’t spoken about everything since the abrupt conversation over coffee and I knew they wouldn’t, any more than my father I would have. I couldn’t tell how Jess felt about that. She never discussed it and I wasn’t asking.
We walked through the airport to check-in. Yet again, Jess had to lift the bag on to the scale. She gave me another look, this time accompanied by a slight smile as if to say, “I get it.”
We were walking to security when one of the women for whom Miami is known walked past. She was some sort of South American – Brazilian or Venezuelan, if I had to guess. She was 5’11” with dark hair, tan and gorgeous dark eyes. Flawless face. Long, toned legs. Flat stomach and perfect breasts. She was wearing a short blue mini-dress and 4” heels…and I felt nothing. No attraction, nothing other than ‘I like that dress’ and ‘now I feel like an elf.’ Jess’ head, on the other hand, pivoted to follow her, looking her up and down. Apparently, my wife was now an ass man.
We made it through security and walked the interminable hallway to our gate. It is a truth universally acknowledged that your gate will always be the farthest from your entry point. Your luggage will never be the first down the chute and you will always be farthest from the gate.
We stopped at a newsstand to buy gum and water. We finished paying and were walking away, when Jess turned to me and said, “Thanks.”
“For what?”
“For everything this week. I’ve been shitty company. Sorry.”
“You don’t need to apologize. I know how tough it was,” I said, taking her hand.
“That’s no excuse.”
“You keep calling me daddy’s girl. You get to be the son. It’s not all sitting on the couch while women bring you food,” I said, with a smile.
“Why did it have to be like that,” she said, unscrewing the top of the water.
“I had my whole life to learn how to deal with my father. You had four days. And your dad’s much tougher than mine.”
“Yeah, well, anyway, thanks. I’ll make it up to you,” she said, giving me a kiss on the cheek.
“There’s nothing to make up.”
“Uh huh. Thanks for what you did for Sarah. Jill told me.”
“I was trying to help. That poor kid.”
“That’s why I love you. I don’t think I could’ve done that, even before.”
“I’m not the judge’s daughter. You are. She trained you. Anyway, I’m glad I helped. I hope it sticks.”
“I hope so. It’s more than I got from anyone,” she said, kissing me. “Oh yeah,” she said, with a smile. “Jill lectured me about how great you were. She told me if I fuck up again, I can’t stay there.”
I smiled. “Good.”
A week and a half later, my period came. I stared at the blood on the toilet paper and got depressed.
“Dammit,” I said.
“What?”
“My period came.”
“Is it heavy?”
“No it’s not,” I said, walking into the bedroom.
“Then,” and I heard recognition creep into her voice. “Oh,” she said, hugging me. “I’m sorry.”
"I mean I figured I would. I wasn't ovulating or close to it. I mean I guess it's OK."
She rubbed my back. "It's OK to be upset." She was trying to be helpful.
I walked into the kitchen for a glass of water. My hands were shaking so badly, that I had to put the gallon of water down. She followed me in. Something in me snapped. "What's that supposed to mean?" I picked up the jug again and my hands were still shaking.
She took the jug from me, poured me a glass and handed it to me. “I just meant that it's OK for you to be sad that it came, that you're not..."
"Who said I wanted to be?" I grabbed the glass from her. I don’t know why I was suddenly so angry.
"I didn't say that. I just...You just...If you were," she stammered. I was being a class A bitch and she didn't deserve it.
I took a sip. "Did you want it?"
Our kitchen had French doors at one end. She stepped back so that she was standing in the door. She was gripping the frame tightly. She was trying not to say the wrong thing. She didn’t realize that that was impossible. "I... I don't know. If you were, I would be happy..."
I pushed past her. More accurately, she moved out of the way. "Why? So you could be off the hook? So I'd be the one to go through with it? Is that it? This is what you wanted, isn't it? Me pregnant. You probably think that's hysterical. Besides, who said that I did?". Besides me, by my actions, whenever I was around a baby or Sammie.
To her everlasting credit, she didn't take the bait. She walked over to the couch. "I never said that. I think we should stop now. Maybe go take a walk?”
“Fine.” I grabbed my coat, left the apartment and just thought. Who am I? Am I deep down a girl or deep down a guy? What did I want? Jess was right. I wanted a kid. Badly. And she didn’t. Not that she didn’t want kids, but if she were her and I was me, she would’ve looked at the toilet paper with relief, not mixed feelings. Did that mean anything?
I saw a man and his son walking. The boy was about seven and holding a basketball. I could hear the father saying, “remember to keep your eye on your man, not the ball.” I always pictured having a conversation like that with my son, like my dad did with me. And, for the first time, it hit me that I might never get to. There was nothing stopping me from having it as the mom. Lots of women play sports. Clearly from the pictures in my room, I was one of them. But it wouldn’t be the same.
I kept walking. I liked being Dan Silverman. I was Dan Silverman for 33 years and I was OK at it. I could play sports, I was funny, people generally liked me. On the other hand, no one ever asked me as Dan to run for office. Assuming we could control this by getting pregnant, and I wasn’t sure that we could, was I ready to give up Dan? To be Jessica Silverman? To be the wife, the mommy, the grandma? To be defined by those roles? It was true. I never thought about it before but had come to realize that stories about successful women would talk about their families a lot more than the same story about a man would. Dan could be Dan. Like this, I’d be “Dan’s wife” or “so and so’s mother,” as much as I’d be “Jessica, the attorney” or “Jessica, the candidate.”
An older woman walked past, probably in her 70s. Her hair was perfect. She was wearing a beautiful grey tweed blazer and black wool pants. She was beautiful. And no one gave her a second glance. She was invisible. After a certain age, women just became invisible. I remember Jess making me watch “First Wives Club” once and a line stuck in my head. “For women in Hollywood, there’s only three ages – babe, D.A. AND “Driving Miss Daisy”.” Was I OK with eventually becoming invisible? Could I stop that or was I just deluding myself?
But, would I be happier as Dan again? Could I do it? Had I gone too far? Jess could tell me that she’d love me no matter what but would she really? Or was I projecting on to her? The question was really whether I could see myself as a man again after everything.
After another hour and half of walking in the cold, I went home.
Jess was still on the couch. “Hey,” she said. I could tell that she was trying to decide whether to get up or not. She didn’t.
“Hey,” I said, taking off my shoes and then hanging up my coat.
“Do you feel any better?”
I sat down next to her and stared into space. “Not really. I’m actually really freaking out.”
She sat on her hands. “About?”
“About this. You and me. And this and what it means.”
She looked concerned. “What about us? I thought we were OK. I made a huge mistake but I thought we were OK.”
“Sorry. We are. I meant us as a man and a woman, not us as a couple. Does that make sense?”
Jess looked up. “It does. What were you thinking?”
“I’m all over the place. I guess I’m really processing this.” I sighed. “Whenever I think I’ve figured it out, something bigger comes up, y’know.”
“I’m there too. But I get it. This is big. Switching bodies was big. But remember what Rich,” her old boss, “used to say? You’re not really married until you have kids. Because then, no matter what happens, you always have that link. Well, this is that at a whole other level.”
“That’s what’s freaking me out. Like I’ve gotten used to this, but I don’t think I’ve ever thought about everything that this means.”
“Meaning?”
“Like what it means to be a woman, to be a man. Forever.”
She smiled, “That’s deep.”
I got annoyed. “I’m serious.”
“Sorry. What do you mean?” She kept moving up and down the couch, like she couldn’t decide whether to sit close to me or far away.
“Like I was watching people. For the first time ever, I was really watching them.”
“You’ve always been pretty observant. I mean about people’s thoughts and stuff. You used to write.”
“Yeah, but this was different. That was looking for material. This time I was watching how everyone is with each other. Like I saw this woman, this beautiful older woman, and she’s invisible. I mean I would never have noticed her before and now I did and I knew, because she was older, she was invisible to everyone and do I want to be invisible like that?”
“The mass of men lead lives of quiet desperation, Dan.”
“Huh?”
She smiled. “You’re not the only one who’s ever read a book, Dan. It’s Thoreau.”
She got me. I smiled. “I know that. What do you mean?”
“I mean we’re all kind of invisible. I can’t tell you I ever thought about a good looking older guy all that much, other than maybe to compare him to my father and even that not very often. Are you afraid that if you stay like this, you’ll be invisible? Is that it?”
“When you say it like that…”
“I’m serious. You’re not invisible and you won’t be. Not to the people who matter in your life. Who cares about everyone else?”
“I’m scared. I’m worried about becoming someone’s something.”
“Someone’s something?”
“Your wife. Someone’s mother. Someone’s grandma.”
She took a deep breath and exhaled. “I have no idea why I remember this, but remember on ‘Mad Men,’ when Pete went to tell Bert Cooper about Don’s real identity? Remember what Bert said. ‘A man is defined by the room he’s in.’ We’re all in a room, men and women. My dad is Jill and Dan’s father. The judge’s husband. The eye surgery guy. Your dad is Dave the accountant. Barb’s husband. Jessica’s daddy,” she said, stretching out daddy and smiling. “We’re all someone’s something. If we had a kid, would it matter which room you were in? Jessica’s room or Dan’s?”
“Does it?”
“Not to me,” she said. “I’ll keep saying it. I love YOU. Whoever and whatever you are,” she moved down, and took my hand.
“Me too. I guess I just feel like, even if we went back, we’d never be back. We’d be here with all that entails, y’know?”
“What do you mean?”
“Like we can say it would all be normal but it wouldn’t. On some level, we’d always see each other like this,” I said, playing with my hands.
“And…oh wait, this is your ego again. I’ll say it for the thousandth time. If we changed back, I wouldn’t think any less of you. I’d probably be happier because now you understood me and what I go through better. Because you’d changed the way I deal with people and how you deal with people.” Then she smiled. “Would I keep the clothes? Some of them. But some are just not me. But I would be as happy then as I am now. Would you? Would you think less of me?”
“No, of course not.”
“So, what are you scared of.”
“I don’t know. But I know I’m scared. Really scared. I’m sorry to be all crazy.”
“Stop it. You said it in Florida. You don’t have your problems and I don’t have my problems. WE have OUR problems.”
“Thanks, but this is mine. I need to figure out what I want.” I stood up then sat down.
“OK,” she said warily.
I took a deep breath. “I know that I want a kid…”
She smiled. “Everyone knows that. Your biological clock is like Big Ben.”
“Ha ha. I think though I want to table the whole kid discussion for a while.”
“Really?” She looked shocked.
“You seem surprised.” I know I was.
“I am. Why?”
“I think I need to think about everything. I think I hoped that I was so the decision was made for me.”
She smiled. “That’s not the way it should happen. It should happen because we wanted it not because we got lazy in my parents’ house. That’s not how we want to bring a child in to the world.”
“I know. You’re right. Sorry.”
“For what?”
“For making a decision about this,” I said, curling up against her.
She laughed and put her arms around me. I felt safe but bad about what I said. “You didn’t decide this. You said what you were feeling. Anyway, since it’s likely, given the way things are, that you’d be the one having it, you should get the deciding vote.”
“Thanks. Are you OK with this?”
“Yeah. This isn’t forever, is it?” I shook my head. “Then all we’re doing is taking our time. And, when we decide, when we’re ready, it’ll be the most loved child. No matter who’s who.”
“Thanks. I’m doing the right thing, right?”
“We are.”
I said, “then, why do I feel so bad?” I started to cry. She just rubbed my back and said “shhhh.”
I was in a funk for three days. What snapped me out of it was a call Friday night from Jon.
My phone rang. I was in the bathroom.
“Honey, it’s Jon,” she yelled to me.
“Can you get it?” That was weird. Jon never called me. Even when I was Dan. I was Sammie’s friend not his, except by proxy.
“Hey Jon. What’s going on?” I heard Dan say. They talked for a while then Dan hung up.
“We need to go to Sammie and Jon’s place. We need to get her some clothes and her toothbrush. And her book on her nightstand.”
“Why?”
“Apparently, they were at dinner and she lost her mucus plug.”
That sounded gross. “What’s a mucus plug?”
She smiled. “Maybe you’ll find out. Basically, when the plug falls out, it means the baby’s dropped. Sammie’s in labor. They’re at NYU already.”
“Ohmigod, ohmigod, ohmigod. That’s amazing. I can’t believe it,” I started babbling like when she told me she was pregnant.
“OK, Aunt Jessica,” she said, with a smile. “Calm down. Let’s go. Sammie needs you. And she needs you to focus.”
We went to the apartment. I packed up some t shirts, underwear and sweats. Her toothbrush and book. I went to her dresser and took some makeup.
“Makeup?” Jess said.
“Sammie?” I responded. We both laughed and Jess helped me pick some out for her.
We got back to the hospital in an hour or so. We texted Jon and met him at the nurses’ desk on the maternity floor.
“How’s she doing?” I said. “How far along?”
He looked nervous. “The contractions really haven’t started seriously yet. They’re about every minute I guess. Do you want to see her?”
“Can I? I mean I don’t want to mess anything up.”
Jess and Jon both smiled. “This is happening whether you’re in there or not,” Jon said. “I don’t think you can do anything. I think she’d like to see you.”
I went in and Sammie was lying in bed. I’d say she looked beautiful. And she did, if you ignored that she was sweaty and her makeup was coming off and she looked like she wanted to kill someone. Then she saw me and smiled. “Ohmigod, Jess. Thank you for coming.”
I smiled. “What is this? Your wedding and I’m your mom’s third cousin?” I took her hand. “So, what have you been up to?”
She laughed. “Not much. You?”
“Nothing really. In the neighborhood, figured I’d stop by. You busy?”
She laughed and kissed me on the cheek. “I am so glad you’re here. Thank you for getting my stuff.”
“Please. You would do the same. I brought you some lollipops. I think I read somewhere that you can suck them during labor to keep your mouth moist. Want one?”
“Thank you.” Then a contraction hit. “MOTHERFUCKER,” she yelled, gripping my hand. The contraction passed.
I shook my hand out. “Well, I’m glad I’m not a surgeon,” I said, smiling.
“Sorry. Did Jon tell you to bring my makeup?”
“No. But I did. Come on.”
She smiled. “You’re the best, Jess.”
“Seriously though. How are you doing?”
“I’m scared.”
That threw me. Sammie was never scared. Never. Not even in private, when nobody but me was around. “What are you scared of?”
“I’m scared of this. This hurts like hell. And I’m scared that something will happen to the baby in labor,” and she started to cry.
I rubbed her back and kissed her. “It’s going to be OK. Millions of babies are born every day. It’ll be fine. They have all the best doctors here. Nothing’s going to happen. Shhh.”
“And I’m scared about what happens after?”
“After?”
“Like when we have the baby. It’s scaring me. What if something’s wrong with it? What if it’s deformed?” There was a quiver in her voice and real fear in her eyes.
“You said the sonograms said everything was fine,” I said, rubbing her hand.
“I know. What if I don’t love it? What if I’m a bad mother? I’m really freaking here.” I was shocked. She was never this vulnerable, this open.
“You’re going to be a great mom. The best mom.”
“What if the kid hates me?” She squeezed my hand again.
“You hated Ruth. Was she a bad mother? Did she not love you?”
She laughed. I felt better. “That’s different.”
“And I have to tell you, 1997-2004? You were not that lovable. And she still loved you.”
“Shut up. Thanks for being here for me.”
“Stop it. You’d be here for me.”
“I will be.”
I thought about it. I still wasn’t there yet. I knew that if I ever did get pregnant, I knew that she would be. And that made me smile.
I stayed in there until the contractions were about 20 seconds apart. The nurse looked at me and said, “I’m sorry, ma’am, but it’s just mommy and daddy and the medical team here.” Mommy and daddy. That sounded nice.
As we were leaving, Sammie said, “Please don’t go, Jess.”
“We have to leave the room. It’s the home stretch here. Just you guys and staff.”
“Will you wait in the waiting room? Please. I’m freaking and it would help.”
I smiled. “I’ll be out in the waiting area. I won’t leave it until you have the baby.”
We went out and Jess said, “Do you want me to stay with you?”
“You don’t have to,” I said, settling into a hard plastic chair for who knew how long.
She did. After a few hours, she started to doze off. I slept fitfully. Every time I fell asleep, a noise would jolt me awake. I must have fallen asleep because, at about 2:00 PM, I felt someone shake me.
It was Jon. He was wearing scrubs and had a huge smile. Jess was smiling too. “Wake up sleepy head. I’ve got someone for you to meet.”
I started to tear up. “Everything’s OK? Everything went OK?”
He smiled. “Well, I mean I’m the evil demon hell spawn son of a bitch bastard who did this to her and she’s going to have my balls waxed and then kill me. Yes, everything went great,” he said, taking my hand. He was so proud. His chest was puffed out. It made me think about what I would do. Or Jess.
That all went away when we went into the room. Sammie was sitting up in bed. She was pale and sweaty, with her gown off her shoulder. She was beautiful. There was a baby on her chest. This tiny little baby. It was swaddled in a blue and pink blanket.
“Aunt Jessica,” Jon said. “Meet Charlotte Leigh Simon. 8 pounds 4 ounces. 20 and ¼ inches. Came into the world at 1:45 PM. Came out screaming at me like her mom.”
I started to cry. “Ohmigod, she’s beautiful,” I said, kissing and hugging Jon tightly. “Mazel tov!”
I walked over to Sammie and kissed her. “Mazel tov. She’s beautiful. You’re beautiful. Are you OK?”
She smiled. “Tired. But I’m good. Did you really stay out there?”
“I said I would,” I smiled.
“You didn’t have to.”
“I wouldn’t have missed it for the world. Oh wow, she’s so little and so beautiful. Hello Charlotte,” I cooed. ‘I’ve been waiting to meet you. I’m your aunt Jessica. You are so beautiful. You are. And we are going to be best friends, like me and mommy. And I’m going to spoil you and love you and there’s nothing mommy and daddy will be able to do about it.”
Everyone laughed. Sammie said, “You are sooooo weird, Jess.” Jess (my Jess) put her arm around me.
“Shut up,” I said. “Don’t listen to her Charlotte. You are the most beautiful baby.” She looked kind of like a space alien like all babies but she was still beautiful.
Jess smiled, “She really is gorgeous, Sammie. Mazel tov,” she said, kissing her.
Sammie said, “Do you want to hold her?” I teared up again. I don’t know why I was so emotional. I chalked it up to being happy for Sammie and Jon. It was easier than thinking.
“Is it OK?”
She smiled. “You need to get used to it, Aunt Jessica. Go sit in the chair first though.”
Sammie gently handed the baby to Jon, who held her like a bomb about to go off. He walked slowly to the chair, muttering, “I can do this.” When he got to the chair – all of three feet from the bed – and handed her to me, he let out a huge sigh of relief. It was adorable.
I looked down at her in my arms. She had a little head of dark hair. Her eyes were closed, in the way that newborns are. I cradled her in my arms and put my hands under her bottom and legs. I traced her little body with my finger. I felt a calm feeling wash over me. I looked up to see Jess taking my picture.
“I didn’t know you were taking a picture. I would’ve smiled.”
She handed me the phone. “You did.” I had an ear to ear grin in the picture. I was looking down at her and smiling. He showed the phone to Sammie and Jon, who both smiled.
Jon surprised me. “It looks good on you, Jess. You guys are the best. Thank you for everything.”
We stayed there for another half an hour talking. Charlotte was named for Sammie’s grandpa Charlie. When Jon’s parents arrived from Westchester, Jess said, “Let’s let grandma and grandpa have some quality time with Charlotte now.” I didn’t want to leave but I guess that they were entitled to some time with her too.
“I’m hungry,” said Jess. “There’s a diner on 2nd. Can we go?”
“Sure. Do I look like hell?” Jess’ clothes were wrinkled and she had bags under her eyes. I could only imagine what I looked like. I felt gross and couldn’t wait to shower.
“You look beautiful. You looked beautiful holding Charlotte. I don’t think I’ve ever seen you so happy. It was the most natural picture in the world,” she said, kissing me.
“Was I a dork in there? I was, wasn’t I?”
She smiled. “No, you weren’t. You were you. You were beautiful. What were you thinking?”
“I was thinking about…you know.”
“So was I. You looked really happy.”
“I was. I’m trying to figure out what it means.”
She took my hand. “Everything doesn’t mean something. Plus, you slept in a chair all night. You were happy for your friend. Leave it there.” She was right. Not that it didn’t mean anything. Just that now wasn’t the time to try and parse it.
We were eating when I blurted, “Emma Riley.”
Jess was shoveling eggs into her mouth. “What?” she mumbled.
“I was thinking of that name for a baby, when we have one – Emma Riley Silverman. What do you think?”
“It’s pretty.”
“Is there a name you like?”
“I don’t know. I was always told the mom gets to choose kid number one,” she said. I started to say something but didn’t. Then she said, “I like it. Who’s it for?”
“Emma for Grandma Miriam and Riley for Grandma Rosie.”
She smiled. “Your dad will love that. Barb not as much. Daddy’s girl.”
“Stop. I’m not daddy’s girl. I’m your girl,” I caught myself. “Like you were mine.” That was convincing.
“Yes, you are. You’re my girl and daddy’s girl and I love you.” Which would have been much more romantic without the little particles of toast flying from her mouth. “What if it’s a boy?”
I had to think. “Harris Ian?”
“Grandpa Harry and Grandpa Ike? I think I like Ian Harris better. Flows better.”
“You’re right. That is better. Is that OK?”
“And you’re not daddy’s girl?”
“Shut up.”
We walked home up Second Avenue, hand in hand. At one point, out of nowhere, she twirled me around. When we got home, Jess said, “Are you OK?”
“Yeah, I’m fine. I’m so happy for Sammie and Jon. Charlotte is beautiful.” I smiled, “and I’m really horny for some reason. Interested?”
She grinned devilishly. “Well, I don’t want to be rude.”
We went into the bedroom and I put on a nightie. It was the middle of the day but I was feeling incredibly girly. I blamed it on the baby. Must’ve released some hormones.
Jess started kissing my neck, then nibbling my earlobe, which always got me excited. She lifted the nightie and started rubbing her hands over my hips. She started playing with my nipples.
“Oh g-d, you are getting me so wet,” I moaned. “Please. Please.”
She turned me around and kissed me deeply. I could feel her penis. She kept rubbing her hands up and down me. I jumped and wrapped my legs around her. She threw me on the bed. She reached into the drawer and put on a condom. The sex was amazing.
We finished up and I was resting with my head on her chest. “That was amazing.”
“Yeah,” she said, with a well-earned, self-satisfied smile.
“Seriously. And thanks for remembering the condom.”
“I’m using them until you, we come to a decision. No accidents. This needs to be something we decided to do.”
I smiled, “I’m glad one of us is thinking. I’m such a mess.”
She kissed me gently. “Stop perseverating honey. Just breathe and be mindful.”
“Thanks, Zen Master.”
“I’m serious. Don’t think about it. Just be for a while and you’ll figure it out. But stop trying to figure out what everything means.”
“Who said I was?” I was.
“I know you. You’re the smartest person I know, besides maybe Jill, but sometimes with both of you, your brain gets in the way.”
I tried to just be. I figured it was like learning how to be Jess. This was just another way.
Two weeks later, Dan’s boss Melissa had her annual Christmas party. It was on a Friday night at her house in Westfield, New Jersey.
I was wearing the blue and green shift that Jess liked so much, with open-toed 2” heels. “Do I look OK?” Since my freak out, I seemed to be alternating between very feminine clothes and androgynous, like the clothes would make the decision. I knew that was pathetic.
Jess smiled, “You look gorgeous. I love that dress.”
“Thanks, honey,” I said, pecking her on the cheek. We pulled up to the house. It was a four-bedroom house. They had recently finished the basement and done some other work. I came in holding a bottle of wine and some presents for her kids. She had a three-year old son Ben and a fourteen-month old girl, Layla.
She met us at the door. She was 5’3”, dark haired with dark eyes. “Hey guys. Thanks for coming. You’re first. Jess, you look amazing. Dan told us how well you’d been doing.”
“He did? Thanks, honey. It’s all him. He got us running again.” I was happy. I don’t know that I would’ve done the same in reverse. “Thank you for having us. The house looks great.”
“Thanks. I’m glad the work is done. I never want to smell sheet rock again.” I handed her the wine. “You didn’t have to,” she said.
I smiled. “Yes, we did. My mom would kill me.”
She laughed. “Mine too.” Then, in a pitch perfect Newark Italian accent. “You went to the house without something?”
Just then, I saw Ben peeking out from the stairs. I smiled. He giggled then turned around. Melissa said, “Ben, since you’re not in bed, like you’re supposed to be, come here and be polite.”
He walked down the stairs. He was wearing footie pajamas. He was so cute.
I squatted down. “Hi Ben.” He played shy.
“Ben, say hi to Mrs. Silverman.” He smiled and didn’t say a word.
“OK, so Ben, how old are you?” This was my go-to. What could I say? It worked. When I said ’97,’ he said, “three!”
“I also bought some p-r-e-s-e-n-t-s for someone.”
“Well, now, you really didn’t have to do that. I’m serious.”
“It’s nothing. I went to the stores in Grand Central. Can I?”
She smiled. “Fine.”
“Ben, I brought you something.” His eyes widened. I loved that look of pure joy on a little kid’s face, even in the service of greed. “Do you like trains?” I knew he did. Jess told me.
Melissa laughed. “I spent my last paycheck on Thomas and Friends, if that gives you any idea.”
He opened the present. It was two wooden subway cars. I bought them at the Transit Museum gift shop. He smiled. “What do you say, Ben,” Melissa asked.
“Thank you,” and he gave me and Jess hugs around our legs.
“You’re welcome. These are the 3 and the 4 trains. The 3 train is how Mommy gets from the train from here to work. And the 4 train is my train. I also brought you a subway map, so you can see everywhere the train goes. It’s even bigger than Sodor.” Melissa looked surprised. “3-year old nephew,” I said.
Ben said, “Wanna come to my room and see my trains?” He took my hand to show that that really wasn’t a question.
Melissa laughed when I said, “That was Dan’s go-to line, too.”
We walked up to his room. It was covered in train stuff. Train posters. Train cars. A little engineer hat. He started babbling, “And this is Thomas. And Henry. And James. And Toby.” Then he put the subway cars down. “These are Ben and Silver. I’m Ben. You’re Silver. We’re going to play.” And we did. Ben and Silver went over the trestle. Ben and Silver went past the mine. When I told him that subways went under water, Ben and Silver became submarines. Cut him some slack. He was three.
After a few minutes, I unfolded the map to show him all the trains. He sat between my legs as we traced the lines with our fingers. I was showing him how to get from Penn Station to Yankee Stadium when I felt someone behind me. It was Melissa and Jess, standing there, smiling.
“OK. It’s time for someone to go to bed,” Melissa said.
Ben looked at her, sad and said, “We’re getting married.”
I ad-libbed, “Boy, he really is just like Dan. Well, where will we sleep?”
“In here.”
Melissa laughed. “I bet you’ve always wanted a train-themed bedroom.”
“What about Dan?”
“He can sleep in the basement.” Everyone laughed.
“That’s enough Ben. Say goodnight and thank you.”
He gave me a kiss and said, “thank you.” I smiled and gave him one back.
We were walking down the stairs when Melissa said, “Thanks. You didn’t have to do that.”
I smiled. “It was fine. I’ve never spent more time in a guy’s room with no regrets. What can I do to help?”
She rolled her eyes. “Stop. Enjoy yourself. The food’s all out. Relax and enjoy yourself.”
People started coming in. Everyone came over to us. The nice wives and girlfriends all congratulated me and told me how good I looked. Others just looked me up and down.
Then, there was Jess’ co-worker Natalie. She was about thirty pounds overweight but was one of those women who had been beautiful in her 20s. She still carried herself like it. In my experience, there are formerly fat thin people and formerly thin fat people. The former, who included Jess, always carried themselves with a feeling of shame. When you were the fat kid, no amount of weight loss ever makes you shake that feeling. Similarly, formerly thin fat people still think they're amazing. Chris Christie was the classic formerly thin fat person. Natalie looked me up and down and sneered, “Good for you. I wish I had the time to do it. Must be nice.”
I thought about saying something like, “You wouldn’t know how, bitch,” but thought that would be bad form. I went with, “I really just did it to be healthy. The weight loss was a nice side effect. But thanks,” I said, brightly. She got up and took a plate of chicken parmigiana.
Dan’s co-worker Ramona smiled and whispered in my ear, “Bitch. Maybe cut back on the chicken parm.” I laughed and then she said, “You don’t have to be nice to her.”
I smiled. “It’s fine. Life’s too short to worry.” I left out the ‘and it’s fun to screw with them.’
She smiled. “I have to tell you. I’ve been working with Dan on this launch and he’s being doing amazing. I mean he has everyone collaborating. The meetings are great. He’s really got this running.”
It was funny. I don’t know that I ever thought about Jess at work. I knew what she did. I knew who the people were. But I don’t think I ever thought about who she was. “That’s great.”
“Seriously. He’s amazing. These past few months, he’s really stepped up.”
The party went on. More people came in.
I ended up in conversation with a lot of the wives. That was inevitable at work parties. The company people – men and women – ended up speaking in the shorthand of people who spent all day together. The wives all congregated together. The few husbands ended up in stilted conversations about work and sports. I hated company parties.
I saw Annie Woods. Annie’s husband Lee and Jess had worked together for years. Annie was a documentary filmmaker. I always enjoyed talking to her. I think I was in awe of people who got to be creative for a living. I just protected rich people from other rich people. “Hey Annie,” I said, giving her a kiss.
“Wow. Look at you,” she said, kissing me. “You look great. I love that dress.”
“Thanks. What’s new? What are you working on?”
She smiled. “That’s always your first question.”
“I’ve told you. I’m just jealous that you get to be creative. So anyway...”
“I’m trying to get funding for a film on high school cheerleaders.”
“Like, the ones who cheer for football or competitive cheer?”
“I don’t know. I mean competitive cheer is interesting but I think I want to explore the other kind. But not in a campy way. Like I want to understand what makes them tick. Like who are these girls who subsume their identities for these guys? There’s title IX and all, and they do this.”
“I don’t know that they see it that way. Like maybe they see this as an end in and of itself. There’s a lot of practice.”
She grinned. “Were you a cheerleader? I could totally see that.”
“Hardly. The cheerleaders in my high school were skanky.” And girls. And I used to be a guy. “What does that mean anyway?” I wasn’t upset just curious.
“I was teasing. You have a bubbly personality.” I was bubbly? “Anyway, so what are you saying?”
“I mean I get the whole sociocultural thing you’re going for and I wouldn’t tell you how to do your movie but I think starting with the idea that this is an affirmative choice they’ve made of their own free will could be a different take.”
Just then, another woman chimed in. “Sorry to butt in, but this is fascinating to me. I grew up in Hong Kong and there is nothing like this there.” She put out her hand. “I’m Daisy Chang, Eddie’s girlfriend.”
“Nice to meet you. I’m Jessica Silverman, Dan’s wife and this is Annie Woods, Lee Zelman’s wife.” Back into the room again.
“Nice to meet you. Eddie came in and basically left me to my own devices.”
Annie smiled, “Welcome to the club. I always tell Lee ‘you see these people all week. Don’t you want to meet someone else?’ FYI, the answer is no.”
“How did you end up here from Hong Kong?”
“I came to go to Julliard,” Annie said.
“That’s so cool. What for?”
“Cello. Yes, I’m the stereotypical Asian girl,” she said, laughing. “Even had the boyfriend who became gay.”
“Now, I am so jealous. Not about the gay boyfriend.” They both laughed. “You two get to be creative and I’m just another lawyer.”
She laughed. “Don’t be. I’m in ad sales now. I sell to the networks. Not a lot of work for cellists.”
“Still. Anyway, do you find it harder to sell now? I mean with You Tube and all. We were with Dan’s niece and nephew over Thanksgiving and all they watch is You Tube.”
She smiled, “You’ve just asked me more than Eddie has in four months. Anyway, it’s something but it just changes what you’re selling. Less toys. More insurance.” Then we discussed my job, Annie’s other films and the upcoming Oscar race.
When I said, “he really won’t see Moonlight?” Annie and Daisy laughed.
Annie said, “He tries. He’s supportive of what I do. Watches all kinds of documentaries, most of which bore him. But gay drug dealers in Miami? Uh, let’s save the $15.”
I circulated around talking mostly to the other women.
I went to check on Jess. I found her in the basement having a conversation with a bunch of the guys from work and some of the husbands. There was a big TV with an old PS4 hooked up to it, couches and a bar in the corner. Clearly, Rich, Melissa’s husband, had his man cave.
“I’m telling you,” she said, “the right team can open up on Alabama and win. Have you seen DeShaun Watson at Clemson? I’m serious. Don’t send the trophy to Tuscaloosa just yet.” I hooked my arm through her arm and just listened and watched her. She started talking about work. “So, we’ll set up a meeting with the regional managers for Chicago and Seattle. Let’s see if we can get someone in to speak at Hutchinson.” I had watched her before but for the first time, I saw her. Or more to the point, I saw Dan. People were listening to him. I saw a strong confident man. Someone in his element. Someone comfortable in his own skin. And I was proud.
After a while, I went upstairs. I started picking up dirty plates and bringing them into the kitchen. Melissa looked at me and said, “Stop. We’ll take care of that later.”
“I don’t mind. Besides, you did all of this. I know what it’s like to face the aftermath. I’m going to do it anyway, so where’s the garbage?” I took a bag into the living room and started filling it up.
When I brought it back in, Melissa said, “Thanks. I really appreciate it. By the way, I heard you talking to Ramona and she’s right. Dan has totally outdone himself at work. You should be proud. It hasn’t gone unnoticed.”
I smiled, “I am.”
“Can I say something? I hope it’s not too weird.”
I laughed. “Always an interesting way to preface a sentence.” She looked shocked. “I’m kidding. What?”
“You seem happier. More comfortable. Dan too. I’m sorry. That’s weird, isn’t it?”
“No. I think we are. I think getting healthy did it.”
“Maybe. Maybe that’s it. I didn’t mean anything bad by it.” That maybe was a no. She wanted to say something more but didn’t.
I smiled, knowing what she meant. “I didn’t think you did. Thanks.”
Before it could get too sentimental, Sydney, a twenty six year old from the office, came staggering in. “Hey guys. I was just looking for some ice,” she slurred.
Melissa gave her some ice and rolled her eyes.
I laughed. “She’s a kid.” It was her house, so I left out my dad’s line – there are no work parties, just work in a different setting. That and, “you may not remember the night, but the boss always does.”
She laughed. “Can you give her a ride back? She took the train out and I don’t think taking it back is a good idea.”
“Sure,” I smiled.
As we were leaving, Annie said, “So, I’ll call you. Let’s figure out a time. Dinner before?”
“Sounds great. I’ve got Daisy’s contact info.”
Then, Leanne, whose husband worked with Dan, came over, “I’ll shoot you some dates for dinner, OK?”
“Sounds great.” Jess just looked at me.
As we were leaving, I gave Melissa a kiss. “Thanks again. So call me and let me know when you want to come in. Ben will totally love the Transit Museum. Unless you just want an adult dinner. Either. Or both.” Jess looked confused.
We poured Sydney into the car. She slurred, “Mind if I take a traveler with me,” she said, holding up her cup. Jess took her cup and poured it out. “I think you’re good, Syd.” Within fifteen minutes, Syd was passed out. You could hear her snore.
“Did you have a good time?” Jess said.
“Yeah. I did. You?”
“Yeah. What was all that about at the end?”
“Well, Annie, Daisy – she’s Eddie’s girlfriend – and I are going to see Moonlight next week. And we’re going to dinner with Leanne and Pete. She has to get a sitter but we’ll pick a date. And Melissa is going to bring my future husband in and we’re going to the Transit Museum and for pizza. Unless she decides that she wants to make it an adult thing.” Jess’ mouth hung open. “What?”
She smiled. “Nothing. Nothing at all.” I didn’t know what Sydney could hear so I didn’t say anything.
We got to Sydney’s place and brought her upstairs. I fished through her bag for her keys, took off her shoes and coat and put her on the bed. Jess laughed, “She’s going to feel that tomorrow.”
We got home. I was taking off my shoes and said, “What?”
“What what?”
“That look on your face in the car. When I told you about our plans.”
“Nothing. I’m glad you had a good time. You seemed like you were.”
“I was. It was nice talking to everyone,” I said. “It was fun. I like them. Most of them.”
She smiled. “Natalie’s a bitch. She’s good at what she does, but she’s a bitch. I told you. But I’m glad. You really looked interested.”
“I was. They’re interesting people.”
“OK. I guess it was weirder for me. Because I worked with their husbands and all.” That was part of it. The other part was Jess’ weird competitive streak with other women.
“You looked really happy too. Everyone told me how great you were doing.” I was wiping off my makeup. By this point, I was used to the fact that it took me three times as long to get ready for bed. On the other hand, Jess still washed her face before bed, which is something I never did when I was her. Or me. Or whatever I used to be.
“That’s cool. I don’t think I’ve ever had such a good time at one of these things.”
“Me too. Melissa said we seemed happier. Are we?”
“I am. You?”
“Me too. I told her it was because we got healthier.” By this time, I was in my nightie. I climbed into bed.
Jess looked at me, smiled and said, “Yeah, that must be it.” She leaned over and gave me a kiss.
I was looking at my book. I wasn’t reading just looking. I looked over at Jess and realized that she was happy. She was Dan and she was happy. A happy, confident successful man. And I was happy for her. And I was happy as Jessica. So, why couldn’t I pull the trigger?
Monday night, Jess and I met for dinner. “Hey, sweetie,” I said, giving her a kiss. “How was your day?”
“Great. Everyone kept telling me how great my wife was. Lee and Pete said that their wives couldn’t wait to see you.” She reached into her knapsack. “Melissa gave me this for you. Ben drew it for you.” It was a picture of a boy, a woman (or a taller boy in a skirt with long hair, body definition not being a 3-year old’s strong suit) and what I assumed was a train. Someone wrote, “Dear Jessica” and “Thank you,” with a scribble underneath.
I smiled. “Tell her I love it and thank you. Tell her to tell Ben it’s going in my office.”
Jess smiled. “You made some impression because she told me something else. She looked me in the eye and said, ‘What happens on the road doesn’t stay on the road for you. Got it?’”
I laughed. “I knew I liked her.”
She looked serious. “I told her not to worry. That I had the only girl I ever wanted and will ever want.”
I kissed her. I knew this was right but I still couldn’t let my ego go.
Monday January 2, three weeks later. The bowl games were on. We invited Michelle and Amanda, and Jon and Sammie over. Wisconsin was playing Western Michigan in the Cotton Bowl, then Penn State vs USC in the Rose Bowl. Amanda had gone to Penn State for medical school and Jon was a USC grad. Michelle and Sammie didn't care. As Michelle put it, "when they televise Lehigh-Lafayette, I'll watch." Sammie called them "unpaid pros," and said she'd rather watch the Giants.
Michelle and Amanda were there already when Sammie and Jon came in with Charlotte.
Sammie and Jon looked tired. Sammie was still dressed in a leather skirt, sweater and booties, with her hair and makeup perfect. But I could see in her eyes that she was tired.
"Hi guys," I said, giving them each a kiss.
Jon said, “Sorry we’re late. Charlotte was up all night.”
I was concerned. “What’s wrong?”
Sammie groaned and looked at me like I was an idiot. “She’s twenty-four days old. She wakes up every three hours on a good day. Last night was a bad day.”
“Are you still not turning on the TV?” The pediatrician had told them not to, because supposedly it would make the baby think it was play time.
“When Dr. Mills shows up at 2 AM, she can sit in the dark.” That answered that.
“Sorry,” I said, looking at Charlotte sitting there. “How are you, Charlotte,” I sang. “How are you?” I gave her a kiss on the forehead. “Can I take her out?”
Jon smiled. “Was that really a question?” Everyone laughed.
“Not really, no,” I said, taking her out. She was wearing a little USC onesie. “How is beautiful Charlotte? That’s a cute onesie. All it needs is Bucky the Badger,” the Wisconsin mascot.
Everyone was staring at me, grinning. “What?”
Sammie broke the silence. “Oh, please. You know what,” she said, laughing.
“I’m sorry that I wanted to see Charlotte. I can’t believe how big she’s gotten.”
“In a week and a half?”
“Sammie, shut up,” I said, with a grin. I put my finger near Charlotte’s hands. She grabbed it. I started to tear up. “Look, she took my finger.” I heard Amanda say to Jess, “Should I tell her that’s an involuntary reaction?” To which Jess responded, “Today’s as good a day to die as any.”
I didn’t care. I had Charlotte. I tuned everyone else out and just kept holding her and looking at her. I couldn’t believe how beautiful she was. My heart raced and I felt pleasure. A physical pleasure. I started to sing to her, as the game started, “It’s never too early to learn. ‘On Wisconsin…on Wisconsin…plunge right through that line.’”
After fifteen minutes, Sammie said, “OK, Jessie. Hand her over. She needs to eat. Does anyone mind if I breast feed in here or should I go in the bedroom?”
Amanda piped in, “Nothing I haven’t seen. Professionally or personally.” Michelle laughed and put her arm around her. They were a good couple.
Jon said, “My kid. My wife. I’m good.”
“You better be,” I said.
Jess contributed, “I like tits,” she said, with a big smile.
“Dan, you’re a pig,” Michelle said, laughing.
Sammie said, “You’re turned on by breast feeding? Sick bastard.” She said, taking out her breast to feed the baby. I should have been happy to see her bond with her daughter. And I was. But I was also jealous. And worried. Not because I didn’t know why I was, but because I did.
We watched the game. At halftime, the Badgers were up to 17-7. Jess, Jon and Amanda were watching half-time when Sammie, Michelle and I went into the bedroom. Even as Dan, I had started to lose my interest in pre- and post-game stuff and half-time. I liked watching the game but my patience for filling space was wearing thin.
Sammie was in the bathroom. I was holding her when I felt something. “Um, Sammie, I think she needs to be changed.”
“Can you take care of it? I’m, uh, busy.”
“Um, I’ve never done it.”
“Please? You’ve seen me and Laura.”
Charlotte was getting fussy, so I said, “OK. You can fix it after.”
I went to put her on the bed when I remembered my sister putting Tucker on the floor so he wouldn’t fall off. I put down a towel and rested Charlotte on it. She looked up me and I said, “OK, Aunt Jess is here. We can do this, right, Charlotte? We’re a team.” Michelle started to laugh. I took off the diaper and put it to the side. I took a baby wipe out of the bag and figured, ‘it’s like wiping myself.’ I put on the new diaper. I was kissing her belly and saying, ‘I love Charlotte,’ when Sammie came out.
She smiled and said, “I knew you could do it. You are such a mommy.”
“Stop…”
Michelle chimed in. “You really are, Jess. I mean, you know…”
Sammie said, “Um, yeah. So, how’s that going?”
“Good. It’s going good.”
“Back to what it was?” Michelle said hopefully.
“Yeah. Better. Made us stronger and all that.”
“So, have you talked about it? Because clearly you’re ready.” Sammie said, handing me Charlotte. I sat on the bed, holding her. She yawned and I started to smile. She was amazing.
It hit home. “Stop. We haven’t. Not recently.” I started to go into my own head. I tried to figure out what all this meant and then tried to be present. Mostly, I was going in circles.
What Michelle said next surprised me and snapped me out of it. “Come on, we can do it together.”
Sammie and I both said, “What?”
Michelle broke out into a big grin. “We decided to start trying. Richard is going to be the donor.” Richard was her gay oncologist friend. I mean, an oncologist who was gay. Fine, he was an oncologist. Who was tall. With brown hair. Blue eyes. And a fondness for guys.
“Great. He’s a smart guy. So, who’s going to carry?”
They both burst out laughing. “Seriously, Jess?” Michelle said. “You’re seriously asking that?”
“It’s a legitimate question.” It wasn’t. I knew the answer. I don’t even know why I asked.
Sammie laughed. “Come on. That’s like asking whether you or Dan were having it.” I don’t know why that bothered me but it did.
“So how come now? Other than, you know, you’re not getting any younger…”
She swatted me. “It’s time. And we figured with everything in Washington, we should start the process sooner rather than later.”
“It sucks that you have to think that,” I said. Charlotte had fallen asleep in my arms.
“Yeah, well, what can you do?”
Sammie said, “So when are you doing it?”
Michelle smiled, “Two weeks. That’s when I’m ovulating. Richard’ll do the donation and then I have a date with the turkey baster.”
“Seriously?”
Sammie looked at me and said, “For someone so smart…no, you idiot, she’s going to a fertility specialist and then they do the process…if you weren’t holding my daughter, I’d hit you.”
“Sorry, I’m not up on this.” To be honest, I had never thought about it. Guys would never talk about this. It would be like admitting that you weren’t a man because you couldn’t do it naturally.
Michelle laughed, “We’re just teasing. So, what’s up with you guys?”
“We’re fine. I mean it’s always there. But I don’t think about it very much anymore. He’s really been good, better…” I almost said, ‘than I ever was,’ “than he was before.”
“That’s good. What’s holding you back?”
I paused, putting Charlotte in the stroller. I didn’t want to, but I figured she should lie down. “I don’t know. I’m afraid.”
“Afraid of what,” Sammie said, putting her arm around me.
“Afraid that we’re not OK? Afraid that he’s going to do it again and then I’ll have a kid? Afraid of being pregnant?” That this would be permanent. That I’d be invisible. That I was tearing a hole in the fabric of the universe. The usual stuff.
Sammie rubbed my shoulder. I really liked the way women comforted each other and would miss it if we changed back. “You know I’d be the first to tell you if I thought something was wrong. I don’t think there is. Believe me, I’ve been watching him like a hawk since he did it. If he is, he’s the greatest actor alive. He loves you. He’s not going anywhere.”
Michelle added, “I agree. Mand’s been watching him. You know that if she thought he was doing something, she’d say something. And even she’s said that she thinks this was one stupid thing.”
“I know…”
“Then what is it?” Sammie said. “Pregnancy? Yeah, you pee a lot and your feet hurt and your tits swell and you’re gassy…”
Michelle looked at her. “You’re not much of a salesman.”
Sammie laughed. “And then you get Charlotte. And it’s all worth it. Even being up all night,” she said, looking in the stroller, “for no good reason. I never believed that before her. And now I know it’s true. And so do you, Jessie. I’ve watched you with Tuck and Charlotte and every baby you see. You would be the best. Better than me.” I didn’t know about the second part. But I knew the first. And I was fighting it.
“Besides, just think – can you imagine how happy Barb and Mona would be? Us pregnant together?”
I laughed. “Are you kidding? ‘So, I was talking to Mona and Michelle went to the doctor and the baby has two heads and I said not to worry because….”
“Come on,” she said, laughing, pulling up her shirt and mine. She rubbed her belly against mine. “It would be so cool.”
I giggled. “Freak. Does Dan get a say in this?” I figured that would put her off.
“Fine,” she said, giggling. “Be that way. But everyone’s doing it.”
“Yeah,” said Sammie. “All the cool girls. If you love him, you’ll do it,” she said, in an afterschool special voice.
“If he loves me, then he won’t push,” I said, with a big grin. “He’ll wait.” We all burst out laughing. It felt good.
"Michelle and Amanda are going to start trying," I said. We were cleaning up after everyone left.
"That's great!" Jess said, dumping plates into a bag. She held up a bowl of chips. “We saving these?” She walked into the kitchen.
“No. Not enough. Anyway, yeah, it is great. Richard is going to be the donor.”
"That’s great. Good for them," Jess said, loading glasses into the dishwasher.
"Michelle said something weird. When I asked whether she was going to have the baby or Amanda, she and Sammie laughed and said, 'that would be like asking whether you or Dan was having the baby.'"
Jess laughed. "What's so weird about that? I mean do you see Amanda being pregnant?"
"That's not what I meant," I said, getting frustrated. "I meant the second part."
"Um, you're a girl and I'm a boy and I thought you learned this from your dad..."
"I'm being serious. If we were what we used to be, do you think she would have said the same thing to you?"
"Uh yeah, because us, Jon and Sammie, only one of the couple can get pregnant."
"Assume that wasn't the case."
She looked worried. "You're spinning out of control. That's a little nuts, honey."
"Humor me."
She stopped for a few seconds and took a deep breath. "I don't know. OK?"
"What do you mean?"
"I mean I don't know. If we were the old us, and either of us could have a baby and it wouldn't be weird, I don't know who would. I mean...You like kids...You have a way.... Probably you. Does that make sense?"
I started to cry. "That's what scares me."
She held me and rubbed my back. "Shhh, why does it scare you? There's nothing wrong with loving kids. There's nothing wrong with wanting a baby. I love that you love kids and, to be honest, being pregnant looks scary to me."
"I know. And it doesn't to me. It looks amazing. I think that’s what been scaring me."
She put her hands on my shoulders. "Why?"
"Because somewhere in here, I'm Dan. And I shouldn't want it."
"Says who?"
"Says everyone."
"Who's everyone? Not me. Not our families. Not our friends."
"But...."
"But what?" She smiled. "It's no secret that you want kids. I mean, long before this, you loved kids. You make faces at every little kid in the diner. If I could count the number of silly conversations you've had with a kid who's just babbling. And everyone," she said, rolling her eyes, "knows about you and Tucker. But, since this, you've been different."
"How?"
"Before you were just the big goofball. Don't get me wrong. It was great and I knew you'd be a great dad. But, now, I watch you look at babies in strollers and with Charlotte. You're sweeter and more tender. More...Maternal, and..." She started to tear up.
"What?"
"That scares me."
"Why?"
"Because, if we change back, I don't know that I can be that good."
"Of course, you could."
"I don't know. When I see Charlotte, I think, 'cute baby.' When I see you see her, I see love. When you were holding her today, it was like you two were the only people in the room, in the world."
I blushed. "I feel ridiculous."
"Don't. That's what a mommy is supposed to look like. When you hold her, when you change her, it's second nature. You look right. I see you holding our child and I think that I can't think of a more right picture."
"And you see me. Not you,” I said, putting down some plates. I was feeling faint and didn’t want to drop them.
"Yes. Don't you?"
"Yeah. That's what scares me."
"Why?"
"Because..." And I had no reason. I wanted a baby. And I wanted to have it. And I was jealous of Sammie for breast-feeding. And I was worried that we could change back and I'd be angry that Jess - who didn't even know if she wanted it- would get to have the baby. And I was angry that I felt this way. "I'm sorry. I need to lay down."
"I'll finish up. Are you feeling OK?"
"Yeah, just..."
Jess finished up and came to bed. I was in a big t shirt. An old one Jess had before. Not one of mine. I couldn't deal with that now. I was reading, or trying to. I read the same page four times.
"You OK?" she asked.
"I guess."
"Still focusing on what Michelle and Sammie said?"
"Yeah. Sorry."
"It means nothing. You're not, you never were, Dan to them. It wasn't about you. It was about Amanda. Can you see Amanda having a baby? It would be the first full term baby born in three months. She’d schedule birth between surgeries."
I laughed. "I guess..."
"And I was thinking about the second thing you said. If either one of us could have it and no one would think twice, so what if you had it?"
"Huh?"
"So what? I had no idea you were so sexist. Oh, having a baby is only a woman's job?"
I started to laugh. "Um, do I have to explain it to you now?"
"I'm serious," she said. "If either of us could, why couldn't, shouldn't it be you?"
"I suppose."
"You'd be better at it. I thought about it before all of this. I'd watch you with kids and think life would be so much easier if Dan could get pregnant. We could just do it. Dan would be so much better than me at it. He'd be better at carrying it. At having it. At raising it..."
"Do you not want kids? Is that what you're saying?"
"No, I do. I guess I've just realized that I'm more suited to being a dad..."
"Meaning?"
"Meaning I'd love our kids but it's not the same. A dad loves you, teaches you to drive, takes you to practices and stuff..."
I laughed. "Now who's sexist? There are lots of dads who are the primary caregiver."
"That's not what I meant. I meant that, like when I was little, moms came in and out of pre-school all the time but when a dad showed up, it was a big deal. A special event. I knew my dad loved me and would always do stuff but I knew my mom was always there. Even with work. She just was. That's what your mom is. She's the one who's always there. I don't know if I could always be there. But I know you could, you would. Right?"
I thought about it. "Yeah. Is that weird?" I was staring at the ceiling. Jess took my face in her hands and turned it towards her.
"No weirder for you than me. If we were who we used to be, and you could have the baby, why wouldn't you? Why wouldn't the one who wants it, who'd be better at it, do it? The world's too focused on what everyone thinks. If it's supposed to be me, it'll be me. If it's supposed to be you, it'll be you. OK?"
"OK," I smiled, giving her a kiss. That night, I had the pregnancy dream again. But this time I was Jessica.
I woke up the next day and couldn’t get the discussion out of my head. I knew that I wanted kids. I knew that Jess was right and that it made sense for me to do it, assuming that whatever it was that made this happen wanted it. It was just something holding me back from pulling the trigger. From saying to her, “Let’s just do this.”
I spent the next week in a fog. I could do my job but the rest of my life was a mess. I missed my stop three times in a week. I forgot to pick up our dry cleaning – after I received an alert on my phone. I put on two different shoes and would have gone to work that way if our doorman hadn’t stopped me and said, “Is that a new style, Ms. Silverman?”
Robin and I were at lunch one day. We went to Chop’t. We ordered our salads and were walking back to the table, when I walked into the rack where they kept utensils. Several forks feel to the ground. It rattled loud enough that people turned around.
We were picking everything up when she said, “Is everything OK?”
“Huh?” I was putting the forks into my bag instead of the garbage.
“You seem kind of out of it. Like something’s bothering you,” she said, reaching into my bag and taking the forks out.
We walked to a table and sat down. I stared at the wall. “I’m just…I don’t know…I…”
She looked concerned. “Is everything OK? Is this a work thing or a personal thing?”
“Personal.”
“Is everything OK with Dan?” I noticed that women never said, ‘do you want to talk about it?’ They just assumed that you did.
“Yeah, yeah. He’s fine. We’re fine. It’s just…” I looked down at the table.
“What?”
I looked her in the eye. “Can I tell you something? Promise you won’t say anything.”
“Of course.”
“I’m trying to decide if I want to have a kid. Don’t think less of me for that?”
“Why would I think less of you?” She looked horrified and confused.
“Because you guys don’t have kids.”
“And? It doesn’t mean that I think no one should. It just means that I don’t. Jesus, what kind of a bitch do you think I am?” She looked hurt.
“Sorry.”
She smiled, “The last part was just teasing. I’m a huge bitch. But you should be careful. Anyway, do you want kids?”
“Yes. I really do.”
“Does Dan?”
“He says so.”
She pursed her lips and blew out air. “Stop being a girl. Yes or no?”
“Yes.”
“So, you want kids and he wants kids? What’s stopping you?”
I couldn’t really say that I used to be a guy. And Dan a girl. And that I was afraid that if we got pregnant, we’d turn back and she’d get to carry it and that I’d resent that. Or that I was permanently changing my life. That’d be awkward. “I don’t know. I’m afraid. Afraid of what’ll happen professionally.”
“That’s nonsense. Victoria has kids. Sharon has kids. You’ll get a nanny. You’ll do work at night when the little howler is asleep. That’s lame. Besides don’t let this place dictate your life. What else do you have?”
“I’m afraid of what it’ll do to Dan and me.”
“Equally lame. You said you’re good. If you’re good, it brings you together. If you’re not, it doesn’t. Are you good?”
That was a fraught question. And I really thought about it. “We are.”
“Not my decision, but you need to jump in or out. Shit or get off the pot, as Sandy says. That’s it! Secretly, you want Sandy to be the father. ‘Oh Sandy, take your Viagra and pump me full of your old crabby smelly sperm.’ On the plus side, he’d probably drop dead and then your kid will be set for life.”
I hit her. “You are disgusting. You know why you don’t have kids? Because you want Mel.” Mel was a tax partner. Like all tax partners, he was brilliant and absolutely necessary for deals. He was also short, overweight and had no personality. Mike used to ask him at the Christmas party to ‘tell a joke. Any joke. I’ll give you the joke.’ “Oh, Mel, take advantage of my depletion allowance.”
She laughed. “Whatever. Do or do not. There is no try.” I looked at her. She sighed, “Gib…”
“Something to think about. Sorry what I said about you guys.” I was still mortified.
“Please. Nothing I haven’t heard before. Whenever Gib’s aunt mentions it, I start to sob,” and she started, “’We…can’t…have…children’ and then I run out.”
“I am so sorry. I can’t believe I….” I wanted to crawl under the table.
She held up her hand and laughed. “We can’t because I take birth control. I have no idea if I can. And don’t care to find out. Sorry.”
“Don’t be. You’re smart. Like my friend says, it’s not a puppy. You can’t give it back. Thanks. Sorry to get all weird on you.”
“Please. It was totally fine. And seriously do what’s best for you. Not Sagman Bennett. Ruth Bader Ginsburg had kids. Sandra Day O’Connor had kids. Like sixty years ago. You can do it if you want.”
“Thanks.”
After that, it became clearer. We were in a good place. I wanted kids. I wanted them before. I wanted them now. And however, whoever ended up giving birth to it, it would be our kid. I started taking pre-natal vitamins and cutting back on caffeine. I was a caffeine junkie but I knew that I’d need to cut it out when I got pregnant. I just assumed it would be me. I needed to assume that.
A week and a half later, I woke up to see Jess sitting on the couch reading a magazine.
I gave her a kiss, “Hey, honey.”
She smiled and held up the vitamins. “Something you want to tell me?” she said, shaking the bottle.
“Um…They’re vitamins?”
“I may look like this but I used to be that. I know what these are. Do you want say something?” I blushed. “Are you telling me that you want to try?”
“Try what?”
She threw a pillow at me. “The Thai place on third. You know what I mean.”
I couldn’t speak. I nodded then I said, “I do. I want to try and have a baby.”
“Even if it means that this,” and she waved her hand between us, “becomes permanent.”
“I’m ready. I want a baby. I want to have a baby. I want to be a mommy. Is that weird?”
She gave me a hug and kissed me. “It’s not weird! It’s amazing!”
“Seriously?” I started to cry. “Are you ready?”
“Yes. Yes. A thousand times yes. We’re going to do this. We’re going to have a baby.”
“We’re going to have a baby.” I was crying. “I’m such a girl.”
“Yes, you are,” she said, hugging me. “And you’re going to be a mommy. The best mommy ever.”
“And you’re going to be a dad. Are you OK with that?”
She smiled, “I am.”
I smiled. “I’ve figured out that I should be ovulating when we’re on the trip. Probably Tuesday night or Wednesday.”
“You’ve really thought about this, haven’t you? Were you planning on telling me?”
I blushed. “Um…”
She kissed me again. “It’s OK. I’m just teasing.”
I smiled. “You know I’m thinking we should probably practice beforehand,” I said, pulling off her t-shirt.
We went into the bedroom. I put on a white nightie. It seemed like the right color. Like we were starting something new. I wasn’t ovulating but we didn’t use a condom.
We finished and Jess laid with her head on my stomach. I played with her hair. “What are you thinking?” I said.
“I’m thinking how great this is going to be,” she said, kissing my stomach.
“Really?”
“Really. I can’t wait until you’re pregnant. The swollen ankles. The morning sickness. The belly,” then she started kissing me again.
“Thanks. That makes me feel so good.”
“I’m kidding. You’ll be beautiful. Ankles, sickness and everything.”
“What if it’s you?” I figured I’d put it out there.
“I don’t know why but I don’t think that’s happening. Sorry, it’s you,” she said, as she kissed me, this time on the lips.
“I think it’s what it’s supposed to be,” I said, smiling.
Thanks as always to Lizzy Bennet
Jess and I were about to leave the airport to go to the Breakers. I turned to her and asked, “Do I look OK?” I was wearing a batik print dress that came to just above the thigh and a pair of Tom’s canvas espadrilles. I would have worn sandals but it was too cold.
“Stop it. You look gorgeous. That dress is perfect. I can’t believe you put in all this effort for the plane,” Jess said.
“These are your co-workers. We’re going from the airport with them. The host VP, what his name again, could be with us. I want to look good. I want you to look good.” I always noticed that the wives always dressed in skirts and dresses. Selfishly, I figured this was my opportunity to be part of the group and I wanted to look like I belonged.
“Should I wear heels?” I said. Like I said, I was nervous.
“Not unless you want to be in pain by the time we get there,” she said, laughing. “You look beautiful. That print brings out your personality.” I knew what she meant. I bought it when I went shopping with Sammie. She said, “Ohmigod, that’s so junior year. You and the guy who did the semester in Senegal…” I remembered a guy named Jordan who was always trying to impress girls with his, as Elvis Costello calls it, “fuck me I’m sensitive” rap. I couldn’t believe anyone fell for that but they did. Including me apparently.
“Thanks,” I said, blushing.
She looked at me and said, “I love you,” in a very serious tone.
“I love you too,” I said. “Is everything OK?”
“Everything is great. I love you more and more each day. Since we decided to start trying, I’ve realized how lucky I am. I love the person you were and the person you’ve become. The way that you look good so I look good. You are beautiful and loving and smart and you are everything I could want in a partner. And you will the best mother.”
I started to tear up. “OK, stop.” I hadn’t even noticed what she had said about being a mother and who I’d become. “Tell me about who’s hosting this trip.”
Jess regained composure. “His name is Bruce Conlan.”
“What’s his wife’s name?” I needed to distract myself.
She looked at the welcome e-mail. “Ellen.”
“I don’t think we’ve ever been with them before. What do we know about them?”
“Two kids. Boy and a girl, I think. Yeah,” she said, looking up. “I see the pictures on his desk. The boy’s in a baseball uniform. The girl plays soccer, I think. He’s from Boston originally. Always gives me shit about the Yankees.” She laughed. “I feel like we’re planning a robbery or an assassination.”
I laughed. “No, but it’s all part of looking good. We need to know who we’ll be with.”
She kissed me. “That’s why I love you, sweetie. Always prepared.” And I was. I had been on several trips with Jess’ company. I knew these people. I knew their kids’ names. I knew who played what sports. Not because they told me but because I’d overhear them tell Jess. As Dan, I would always be on the periphery of that conversation. The reps and managers were almost all ex-jocks and military, and the wives were, well, cheerleaders and military wives. I always felt like the wives were a little creeped that a husband would know this stuff, and that the husbands thought it weak that I would. That was a wife’s job. My job now.
We went downstairs to catch a cab. It was forty-five degrees and overcast. It had snowed a few days before. I loved the freshly fallen snow. The way it made the city look peaceful and clean. However, all that was left now was rapidly diminishing piles of dirty black snow. But we were headed to the sun and the warmth. We were leaving the gray for the light.
Jess was lugging our giant suitcase, with the carry-on balanced precariously on top. Her backpack was on her pack. I was wheeling a garment bag and a tote. She looked at me, “Getting even?” she said with a smile.
I looked at her and sweetly said. “Maybe. But it takes a lot to look this good.” Then I said, “I’m nervous.”
“About what?”
I played with the hem of my dress. “We’ve never been this way before. You were me and I was you.” I realized after that I phrased it that way. As if this was always me.
She smiled and touched my hand. “You’ll be fine. No, you’ll do great. This way, you can do what you always do – ask people questions and remember details – and it’ll be great.” I couldn’t tell if she believed that. She always called the wives “Barbies.” They said they were “perfect and plastic.” Jess always felt like they were looking her up and down, and thinking she was cheating with their husbands. Standing in the airport, headed to five days with the people she spent weeks with - away from me - the more I thought about what happened and the less I thought that they were irrational. I wasn’t even sure what I thought of “Barbie.” Was that what I was now? Was I supposed to be?
I moved closer to her. It made me feel safe, the way I hoped she used to. “I hope so. I just want this to be a great trip.” I smiled, “If I’m right, it’ll be Tuesday or Wednesday,” and touched my stomach. I just wanted it to be perfect.
Lately, I had been having incredibly vivid dreams. I was in the hospital in labor. I was Jessica, and my feet were in the stirrups. I was screaming and pushing. Jess (as me) was feeding me ice chips and telling me, “You’re almost there.” I looked down and I saw my penis and testicles, but at the same time saw the baby crowning. The umbiical cord was attached to my penis. When Jess cut the cord, my penis and testicles came off. No one said anything or even looked surprised. They just put the baby on my chest and said, “here you go mommy.” I hadn’t told Jess. I kept trying to figure out what it meant and didn’t want to burden her. Not before this trip.
We got out of the cab and Jess unloaded our luggage. The garment bag was split equally. The suitcase was, conservatively, seventy percent my things, the carry on 60/40. I straightened out my dress, picked up my tote bag and took the carry on, and gave her another smile. She rolled her eyes, shook her head and dragged everything else in.
We were standing in the TSA line. Luckily, it was a Monday and, unlike Thanksgiving, it was mostly corporate travelers. As we stood in line, they all began taking off their shoes and belts, and taking their laptops out. We moved through the line with incredible efficiency.
We walked through the terminal, hand in hand. Between wheeling the carry on and my tote bag, it was awkward and slow, but I was nervous and needed the comfort. “Why am I so nervous?” I thought. I had been on seven of these trips and usually had a good time. On the one hand, we stayed, all expenses paid, in much nicer hotels than I could afford. I played golf on the best courses. I took a helicopter to a glacier in Alaska. I swam with the dolphins in Bermuda. But, I was always the outsider. I wasn’t a Stone person and I wasn’t a wife or girlfriend. I was a guy but I wasn’t one of the guys. I was there on a woman’s dime. I didn’t provide, I was provided for. It’s not that anyone ever said or did anything, at least not outright. It was more the bemused looks, the, “oh, you’re Dan. Jessica told us about you,” the in-jokes that everyone, male and female, seemed to have. Now, things were right, at least in Stone Pharma world. I was the woman. I was supposed to be the guest. But I couldn’t shake this feeling. I knew I was irrational. I was on a free five-star trip and was complaining that people didn’t like me, people I rarely saw. I should just enjoy myself. But I still felt nervous.
“Are you OK?” Jess said, worried. “You look like something’s bothering you.”
“I’m just nervous. I’ve never been this before and I’m afraid.”
“What are you afraid of?”
“I’m afraid of embarrassing you. Of embarrassing me. I’m afraid that I won’t fit in.”
She took my hands in hers, hers dwarfing mine. “You will be great. You are great. Everyone loves you. Remember Melissa’s party? Everyone loved you. You and Annie and Daisy? How many movies have you guys seen?”
“That’s different. I know them. They see you every day. They’re from New York. I talked to them before all this. This is different. These are field people. I’m just scared,” I said, looking up at her.
“It’ll be fine,” she said. “We look good. You look amazing. You really do. I love this dress. Anthropologie?”
“No. BCBG,” I said.
She smiled, “I could never wear their stuff, but I love that you can,” she said, with a laugh. I knew what she meant. It wasn’t her style. It was too feminine for her. It was funny. Jess wore dresses and skirts as much as pants. She liked heels. You would never have said that she didn’t like being a woman. Since the change though, it seemed like the narrative had changed. It was like she was pretending that never was. That this was reality and that was fake.
We went to the newsstand to buy gum, water and magazines. I had some downloaded to my iPad but liked the tactile feeling of flipping pages, just like I preferred books to the Kindle. However, when we traveled, I took the Kindle. I didn’t like schlepping books and wouldn’t expect Jess to do it either.
Jess picked up a copy of Sports Illustrated. “Brushing up?” I said. That was the lingua franca for me on this trip. Like my father, if things went south, we could always discuss sports.
She smiled, “I check ESPN every morning. This is just for depth.” Oh. Excuse me. I picked up the Economist and In Style. “You are a woman of contradictions,” she said, giving me a kiss.
“I can like both,” I said. “I’m not a Barbie.” I thought about it and realized that I had no idea what Barbies knew or liked. They were distant to me and Jess had her own dealings with them. For better or worse, I’d find out, I guess.
We went for a pre-flight drink at the bar. I was staring at CNN when I heard, “Well, now look at you two. You’re screwing up bingo.” I turned around and saw Jane and Sean Manion. Jane was a lawyer at headquarters. She and I always got along, even when I was Dan. Jess maintained that it was because, “you have that snotty anti-social lawyer thing going on.” Her husband Sean was a researcher at Rockefeller University, isolating the genes that caused neuro-muscular diseases. I thought I was smart until I met Sean. It was like being the best basketball player at your high school and then facing Steph Curry. However, he wore it lightly and had a very dry sense of humor. He came up with bingo. It was a game the four of us would play on trips. We’d call out every person who was pasty and/or overweight and say, “HQ.” Kind of like car bingo.
Jane was about fifteen pounds overweight and pale, like a good lawyer. She could take an office at my firm and no one would think anything was amiss. She was wearing jeans, a sweater and flats. She looked me up and down, not cruelly just matter of factly. “I feel like an ogre,” she said, with a smile.
I blushed, “Well, now I feel bad.”
She laughed. “Don’t. I’m teasing. You look amazing. How much have you lost?”
I smiled. “Thirty-one pounds so far.” I wasn’t going to play it cute. I was proud of myself.
“You really look terrific. I love that dress too. It’s is so you.” Everyone today knew what was me except me. “So, what made you decide on all of this?" she said, waving her hand up and down.
"I don't know.” ‘Maybe, it’s because one morning I woke up and was my wife,’ I thought. I went with, “one day, I just felt like I needed a change. I felt blah and needed to do something."
"I should do something," she said unconvincingly.
“I’m in if you want to meet up for the gym.” I saw her flinch. “Or we could go for a walk. Either one, I’m up for it.”
“So, where’s the trip again this year?” She said, with a sigh. Once a trip every trip, there was a day of golf and some sort of cultural outing. The golf was for the Stone people and the few male guests. The outing was for women. Not that anyone said that. That would be a lawsuit waiting to happen. A guy could go but no guy ever did or ever would. Jane always went on the outing. She said that she hated golf and “besides, no one wants the lawyer there.”
“We’re going to the Norton Museum of Art, then a shopping trip on Worth Avenue. I’m looking forward to the museum. They have an exhibit on Lichtenstein and Monet,” I said a little too brightly, to try and get Jane upbeat. I liked Pop Art though. I had a Jasper Johns print in my office and dragged Jess to the Rauschenberg retrospective when we were in London. “I looked at in on-line. It talks about Monet’s influence on all kinds of artists…”
“OK, OK, Frida Kahlo,” she laughed. “It’ll be fine. Just make sure we hang together. Please.”
“Of course. I look forward to it. How’s work?” This was our standard opener. Someone once told me that, in New York, the first question is always “what do you do?” Work defined you and, for lawyers, it was an opportunity to commiserate with someone who understood you. Jane and I understood each other.
“I was told they won’t bother me,” she said, taking out her phone. “Oh look. ‘I hate to bother you but can you review this position statement outside counsel sent.’ If you hate to bother me, don’t.”
I took out my phone, “I know you’re on vacation but…with the end line ‘enjoy the trip.’ You have to love that.”
“Yup, I don’t care if you do and you won’t, but I want to go home and tell my husband, ‘but I told her to enjoy herself.” We both laughed. I felt a little better. I had Jane. When I was Dan, I had Jane and being Jessica wouldn’t change that. Jane wasn’t a Barbie and she wasn’t really a headquarters’ person either. She was a company lawyer. She always said that, “they think we screw up deals. No one recognizes or cares that we make sure that things are done right.” Being their lawyer was like being their teacher. You made sure they did their assignments before recess. You couldn’t hope to be liked. The best you can hope for is that, if things go south, people occasionally appreciate the work you do.
While Jane and I talked shop, Jess and Sean started talking about cancer therapies. Like I said, Sean could talk knowledgably about anything. But, as I half-listened, I noticed that Jess was holding her own. She was discussing clinical trials and relapse rates and I was impressed. I suppose that I shouldn’t have been. This was her job and had been for ten years. But there was a confidence in the way she spoke that made me feel proud of her.
Eventually, Jane and Sean went to the newsstand and another couple came over. He was about 6’2”, 195 lbs., brown hair and green eyes. He was the sort of blandly handsome person you found in a mid-priced clothing catalog or on a mid-market television station reading the news. Handsome but not off-puttingly so. He and Dan shook hands for about three seconds. Enough to demonstrate familiarity if not any affection.
“Jessica, this is Mark Turner. He’s the new district manager for the capital region, by Albany. Mark, this is my wife Jessica.”
“Hi Jessica,” he said, shaking my hand. I shook his hand lightly. I had to remember that I didn’t have to assert my masculinity. “It is a pleasure to meet you,” he said. ‘And now to Dave with sports,’ I thought. “This is my wife, Courtney.”
Courtney was about 5’4”, blonde with green eyes, 120 lbs. If I had to guess, a size four. She was attractive in a junior league, Tracy Flick kind of way. (If you haven’t seen Election, put this down and see it.) She had the carriage of someone who was told by her mother from childhood that that the most important thing you had to sell was yourself and that, if you carried yourself like you belonged, eventually you would. And so, she never fully did.
I could tell that Courtney was doing the same analysis of me. I stuck out my hand, “Hi, I’m Jessica. It’s nice to meet you.” I felt like I was in kindergarten again.
She took my hand for a second and said, “Nice to meet you too.”
“So, tell me about you. Where do you live? Do you have any kids?” I said, probably a little too eagerly.
With poorly disguised disdain, she said, “we live in North Colonie. We have two kids, Jenna, who’s four and C.J., who’s two. How many do you have?” The presumption threw me.
I smiled, “None…yet,” I said, putting a little too much emphasis on yet. I thought, ‘but I’m ovulating on Wednesday and we’re trying, if that’ll make you like me.’
“Oh,” she said, the mood shifting. She looked me up and down. “That’s a nice dress.”
“Thanks. So’s yours.” We stood there for a minute, while Jess and Mark discussed work. She brightened when she saw my In Style. “Do you mind if I look at that?” I was excited that she wanted to see it and handed it over. Like a four-year old who wants someone to play with him. Or her. She flipped through the magazine silently.
“Oh, that looks interesting,” I said. It was an article entitled, “What to Wear on a Plane.” “I wish I had seen that before we left,” I said, with a slight giggle.
“Heh. Yeah,” she said, then looking down at the magazine again. I felt anxious. My pulse raced. I was embarrassed. I had no idea why she didn’t want to talk to me and why that bothered me. As Dan, I always felt on the outside but it never bothered me like this. I would’ve thought her a bitch and moved on, but something was making me internalize it. I paused, said, “that’s not you” to myself five times and then turned to Jess and Mark.
“So, how are the Xaldor materials coming along?” Mark said. Xaldor was the drug of which Jess was now in charge. OK, this conversation was boring. I saw Jane and Sean coming back and thanked the gods.
“Thank g-d you’re back,” I said to Jane.
She laughed, “Uh, we went to get coffee not to war. What happened?”
“I tried talking to her,” I said, pointing at Courtney, “and I got nothing. I even gave her my magazine and still nothing. It’s like I’m invisible.”
She looked at me quizzically. “And this surprised you why exactly?”
“I don’t know. I just thought that…” I didn’t know what I thought.
“Princess Country Club would be nice?” That seemed harsh. Even after Courtney rejected me, it felt harsh. “Let me guess she asked if you had kids, and when you said no, that was it?” Jane and Sean had no children. I had no idea why not, but it wasn’t my business.
I nodded, “Yeah.”
“This has never happened to you before?” Well, no. Last year, it would’ve happened to Jess, not me and I never noticed. Or subconsciously I wanted her to feel embarrassed and get pregnant. Be careful what you wish for.
“It has,” I lied. “I guess it just hit me for some reason.” I’m a girl for one. And I’m trying to get pregnant. And now I’m the wife. All the usual stuff. I had become Jessica. It was no more something I thought about locking the door when I left the apartment. It was just there. But, now, being here in the dress with Courtney looking me up and down and ignoring me, I became acutely aware of who I was. And who I wasn’t. And I felt sick.
Jane looked at me. “Drink some water. You don’t look good.” I took a sip and sat down. She sat down next to me. “It’s her loss,” she said. Then she smiled. “It’s all the weight loss. It’s made you light headed. Seriously, look at you. I’m reporting you to the bar.”
That made me laugh. “Thanks. I don’t know what happened.”
Courtney walked over and handed me the magazine. “Thanks,” she said, then walked back to Mark and Dan.
“You’re welcome,” I said. “Oh, this is Jane Manion,” I said, in a mocking tone, when she was out of earshot. “Jane, meet Courtney. Courtney, Jane. You two have a lot in common….”
Jane smiled. “That’s better. Just relax, have fun. Or as much fun as you can have.” Jane was the master of the sotto voce aside. The snotty comment under her breath. Like all good lawyers, she was a cynic. She’d watch the beach Olympics and the awards ceremonies, and she and I would make a never-ending series of comments. Teddy Roosevelt once said, “It is not the critic who counts; not the man who points out how the strong man stumbles, or where the doer of deeds could have done them better. The credit belongs to the man who is actually in the arena.” When it came to these trips, Jane and I did not subscribe to this theory. It was easier to stand on the side than put yourself out there. I had tried and I had failed, repeatedly. But, as the new me, I wanted to try again. I owed Jess that and still I was failing. And it was killing me already.
Jess came back over. “What did I miss? Anything interesting?”
I started to tell her about Courtney but decided against it. She needed to be Dan and she needed to be on her A game. Jane and I bad mouthing Courtney would serve no purpose. I hated this feeling but saw no reason to bring her down. I said, “Nothing really…”
The flight was uneventful, which is really all you can hope for in a flight. We landed at PBI. Jess was off-loading our luggage from the carousel and said, “where is the damn porter?”
“Oh, please, someone will take it from you in two minutes. Besides, karma…”
Sure enough, we were met by one of the meeting planners holding a ‘Stone Pharma Champions Club’ sign. I had come to realize how much they focused on this kind of garbage. ‘Champions Club.’ ‘Winner’s Circle.’ The long-time people were in ‘the Master’s Society,’ where you got a green jacket and everything. Law firms worked on a simple model. Bill more. If you billed enough long enough, you made partner which, to quote my friend Matt, ‘was like a pie eating contest where first prize is more pie.’ That’s it.
“Welcome, Champions!” The woman holding the sign said. Jane, Sean and I looked at each other. “Are you ready for fun?”
Under her breath, Jane said, “I’m ready…not sure I’ll have it but I’m ready.”
I giggled, “Stop it. We’ll get in trouble.”
Jess said, “We’re all looking forward to a great trip!” She could fake corporate bullshit with the best of them. “What’s on the agenda?”
“Tonight is the welcome dinner. You’re long-time champions so you know that it’s very relaxed.” Relaxed in the way that being surrounded by your bosses and co-workers, co-workers who are trying to figure out how to beat you for the next trip or promotion, always is. It was a little different for Jane and Jess, since they were headquarters people and didn’t have quotas. But Jess still had to be nice to the field people since they were profit centers and she was a cost center.
She kept going in a false-chipper style normally only used by Disney guides and timeshare salespeople. “Tomorrow is beach Olympics, then the afternoon by the pool.” The company was big on team-building. We’re all a team. Stone Pharma – Building a Better Future Together. And everyone really seemed to buy into it. This was foreign to me. I once asked Jane once if legal believed this and she rolled her eyes, saying, “we say we do because they want to hear it, but c’mon Dan.”
“Then the big day. Golf for the guys, and ladies, are you excited for Worth Avenue?” Legal clearly hadn’t spoken to her.
I said, “Actually, I’m really looking forward to the museum.” She laughed nervously. “No, seriously, I am. They have a really interesting exhibit…”
Jane, with a smile that I knew was sarcastic but the guide didn’t, said, “Lichtenstein and Monet. Did you know how many artists you wouldn’t think were influenced by Monet?”
The guide smiled or, more accurately, had this nauseous rictus on her face. “I see some of our other Champions. Wait here. The shuttle will be here in five minutes,” and then she all but ran away.
“Jane,” I laughed. “That was mean…”
“You started. I, for one, did not know Monet influenced Lichtenstein. I thought she’d like to know,” she giggled. “Oh, great. Here come the Barbies.”
The meeting planner came with three sets of couples. The men were all about six feet tall and in good shape. They all wore perfectly pressed khakis with their polo shirts tucked in, and their wives were all exactly the same. 5’6” to 5’8”. 135-145 pounds. All dressed tastefully. There were two blondes and a brunette. They were all extremely attractive but, like Mark, not so gorgeous as to be intimidating. It was a truth universally acknowledged that pharma reps were gorgeous. The guys so that they could get past the office managers and the women so that they could charm the doctors. I was measuring myself against them and decided I was better looking that the shorter blonde.
I immediately recognized one couple, John and Bonnie Chapman. John was the regional manager for the Midwest. We had been on a trip to Bermuda with them two years ago. Jess could not stand Bonnie. She called her “the Barbie-est Barbie of all the Barbies.” I had committed to not bringing Jess’ baggage to this trip. She was her and I was me. Well, I mean I was her and she was me, but you know what I mean. This trip was a blank slate. I was going to give everyone a fair shake.
“Hi Bonnie,” I said brightly. “How are you? I haven’t seen you guys since Bermuda.”
She looked me up and down, and with a merciless smile, said, “Oh my goodness, Jessica, I didn’t recognize you. You have lost SO much weight. You are HALF the woman you were before.” Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Jess tense slightly. I saw Bonnie give the other two women a look out of the corner of her eye.
It hurt, but I chose the path of tactical sweetness. “Why, thank you, Bonnie, for noticing. It’s been a tough road and it’s always nice to have someone give me that recognition. Thanks,” I said, with the sweetest smile I could muster. I saw Jane and Sean look at me and smile. “How are John, Jr. and Kayla? How does she like kindergarten? And John has to be in the fourth grade now.”
“Um, yeah. They’re...fine,” she said, looking from the other women and back to me.
“Glad to hear that,” I smiled. Out of the corner of my eye, I could see Jane and Sean, watching with amusement. Jess just looked scared.
“And…yours?” Bonnie said, uncertainly. I knew she had no idea what she was talking about. So, I went with:
“None yet,” I said, smiling. “You can’t remember everyone,” you bitch. Then, I went in for the kill. I turned to John and said, “Is John, Jr. still a defenseman like his dad?” John played collegiate hockey at Lawrence University in Wisconsin. He and I would talk Wisconsin sports in between moving Bonnie and Jess away from each other. Bonnie glared at me. I gave a sweet smile, but hoped my eyes said, “You aim for the king, you best not miss.” Or queen.
John gave me a big smile. “You have one heck of a memory, Jessica. They wanted to move him to center. He’s one heck of a skater and a shooter, but still…” Bonnie kept looking me up and down.
I smiled. “I know that, even if he plays center, you’ll be happy. I mean he could be the next Mike Modano.” John was a Minnesota North Stars fan. Mike Modano was their Hall of Fame center.
John smiled, “You were paying attention in college, weren’t you?” he said, with a smile. He touched my arm and I thought Bonnie was going to stab him.
Then, I turned to the other two couples and said, “Hi, I’m Jessica Silverman. I don’t think we’ve met.”
Bonnie’s eyes flickered anger but, like the good corporate wife she was, she regained composure. “These are Jeff and Cindy Kelly and Doug and Donna Krohl.” Looking at the women, she said, “Jeff works for John out of Milwaukee and Doug out of St. Louis.” The women smiled, resembling nothing so much as the second and third runners-up at Miss USA. They hated the outcome but needed to maintain a smile. Cindy was the shorter blonde. She had a cute face but my body was better. OK, not only was I a girl, I was being a bitch and I needed to stop.
I wanted to say, “no, they work for the company, as does John,” but went with “Well, it’s very nice to meet you both. Tell me about yourselves.” Before they could speak, Bonnie, looking at the planner, said that, “the shuttle looks like it’s filling up. Let’s go catch it.” And off they went.
Jessica rolled her eyes. “Honey, you can’t do that. I’ll get in trouble.” I smiled and shrugged.
Jane giggled. “How the hell did you pull all that out of your ass like that? And who the hell is Mike Modano and how did you know him? Did you date?”
I smiled. “Litigator’s trick. I have a good memory. Plus, I remember her talking about them. Incessantly. Should we go catch the shuttle?”
Jess said, “How about we wait? I’d rather not watch you and Bonnie kill each other just yet.”
That was fine. I had no interest in sitting with her. As we sat there, various couples came over. I knew about half of them from prior trips. I had a variation on the following exchange more than once:
Me: “Hi, [fill in name here], how are you?”
Wife: “Hi. I apologize but have we met?” She clearly has no idea who we are. The husband says nothing because it’s not his job to know who I am. He knows Jess from meetings as the product guy.
Me: “I’m Jessica. We were in Cabo (or Bermuda or Cancun or more than one) together.”
Wife: “Oh yeah. Now I remember.” She doesn’t. “You look different. You changed your hair.” Yeah, that’s it. It’s my hair. If your kid’s teacher changed her hair, you wouldn’t recognize her either.
Me: “Don’t worry about it. There are a lot of people on these trips. Well, this is going to be a great trip.”
Wife: “Oh yeah, we’ll catch up at the hotel,” she says, gnawing off her leg to get away.
Me: “Definitely,” I say, with a bright smile. We won’t. She leaves. I feel depressed. It doesn’t matter who we are. I’m a wife. I’m one of you but I’m not.
What ended my feeling of self-pity was when one of the managers came over, shook Jess’ hand and said, “Dan the Man! I haven’t seen you since Chicago.” Chicago was the meeting where she cheated on me. “That was one hell of a trip,” he said, while Jess laughed. It had become a fading scar, and now I was reminded of it.
The scar became an open wound when a cute blonde came over and said, “Dan! I haven’t seen you since Chicago.” She touched his arm and said, “That was so much fun. You have to come to the Mountain States conference next month.”
Jess laughed and said, “Well, let me check. Xaldor’s keeping me busy.”
I smiled and looked her in the eye. “My husband has absolutely no manners. I’m Jessica Silverman,” I said, taking her hand.
She smiled. “Oh, I apologize. I’m Becca Romano. I’m the district manager for Idaho. It’s so nice to meet you.” The feeling wasn’t mutual.
“You too. Where’s your husband?” I couldn’t believe that I heard myself saying that, but I did. And I meant it.
She held out her hand. “I’m not married.” I tried to not to rip her hand off. “I’m here with my friend Kristy.” Kristy. Kristy and Becca. Becca and Kristy. “She’s getting her luggage…oh, here she comes.” Kristy was absolutely gorgeous. 5’9”. Brown hair, blue eyes. Long legs. Perfect body. Every guy in the airport was looking at her. I would have. Even like this, I would have. I caught Jess looking at her, and gave her hand a hard squeeze. She looked at me as if to say, “what?” The way I would have.
“Oh. I am sure you two will have a great time. Dan, I think we’re on the next shuttle. Let’s go,” I said, gritting my teeth. We walked ahead of Sean and Jane. I periodically threw angry glances at Jess. She just looked dumbfounded.
I behaved myself on the shuttle. It was a forty-minute ride from the airport to the hotel. I reconnected with the people who remembered me, and talked about their kids. None of them asked about my job, which was fine under the circumstances. I was the good wife.
We got to the hotel and I was momentarily calmed. I felt the warmth on my face and could smell the ocean. I always loved the smell of the ocean. We always went to the Jersey Shore when I was younger. The smell of the ocean reminded me of being a kid, of running in the ocean, of frozen custard and skee-ball. Of a time when my worst problem was that Laura had more tickets to redeem for useless but utterly necessary plastic crap. I had gone to a place in my mind and hoped that the ocean would bring me back to where I needed to be.
Jess took my hand. “What’s wrong?”
I looked at her and said, “Nothing. Nothing is wrong,” in a tone that I hoped ended any inquiry.
It didn’t. “Seriously, what? Bonnie? She’s a bitch. You know that.”
I decided to let it go. I needed to believe that Chicago was an aberration and focusing would do me no good. “Yeah, that’s it. I’m half the woman? “
Jess laughed. “I’m the one who should be offended. I mean I was the whale, not you. Mike Modano,” she said, shaking her head.
I smiled. “You said it. I’m a woman of many contradictions.” I was calming down. “What do you want to do?”
“Go to the room and unpack. Then let’s play it by ear. We should go to the welcome desk first.” The trip was run by a travel company. The welcome desk was a special check in desk for Stone people only. It was where you booked activities and made dinner reservations. They had a basket of snacks – energy bars, cookies, that sort of thing. I made a mental note to avoid it. Access to free Oreos wouldn’t jibe with what I had packed. I was such a girl.
We went to the desk and found a 24-year old blond there. The travel people were all 24 years old and blond. As Rachel, one of Dan’s co-workers who had held the job previously put it, “That’s who wants the job. Girls who think it’s cool to travel. By 26, you realize that making sure we have dinner reservations isn’t cool and it’s not really travel.”
“Hi, welcome Champions! I’m Tracey. Whatever you need, you call down here and you ask.” She looked up our names. “You are on the blue team for Olympics tomorrow. What size shirts do you need?”
I said, “Dan will take an XL and I’ll take a large.”
She smiled, “If you want one to sleep in, I’ll see if there are extras and leave one in your room tonight. I meant for the games.”
“That’s what I thought.” I liked showing off but was suddenly thinking about other women. Tracey was looking me up and down.
She smiled and handed me a small. “This is better.” It was, but I wasn’t sure.
We went up to the room. It was a beautiful ocean view room with a king sized bed. The blinds were opened and the sea smell came in. I went to the window and took a deep breath. “I love that smell,” I said.
Jess came over and put her arms around my waist. She kissed my neck and said, “I love you. This is going to the best trip ever. I promise. Whatever you need, whatever you want. I promise. I want this to be special.” I want to pretend Chicago never happened. I don’t want to hear about it. I want to kill Becca. And Kristy. Even though she didn’t do anything but be Kristy. Which was enough.
“It’s already special,” I said, turning around to kiss her. I looked up at her eyes and said, “this is what we’re going to remember nine months from now.” I didn’t feel at all self-conscious. I was ready and committed to having a great trip. She started reaching under my dress.
“Sorry,” I sighed. “I was reading that you should abstain for 36 hours before we really try. And that’s tomorrow afternoon. I’m sorry,” I said. And I was.
Jess groaned., “I know. This is what we want, but it still sucks,” she said, looking at her erection. I knew the feeling and felt bad for her. But I wanted to have a baby and wasn’t going to let anything get in my way.
I smiled, “I’ll make it up to you the rest of the trip I promise. This is important to me.”
She put her arms around my waist and pulled me close. It felt good. It felt safe. “It’s important to us. I can wait.” That made me feel good. We were us. And we were having a baby. And Chicago was in the past.
We went downstairs. The first person we ran into was Jack Todd, a regional manager from Charlotte, who was there with his daughter Nikki. I recognized her from a picture he had shown me once. She was a dead ringer for her mother.
I walked over and gave Jack a kiss. “Jack, how are you?” He smiled. He and I always got along reasonably well. He treated me like one of his people, not like the rare husband thrown into the mix. When I first met Jess, I disdained sales people. Over time, I had come to appreciate the skill. We’re all selling something, whether it’s pharmaceuticals, legal services or teaching. The best just didn’t make you feel that way. “Where’s Joyce?”
“Joyce is taking JJ on college tours,” Jack said, “so Nikki decided to give her dad one last hurrah,” he said, with a wistful smile.
I got worried. “Is everything OK?”
He smiled. “Everything is fine, Jessica. Nikki’s engaged. This time next year, she’s not going to be my little girl.” I started to tear up, partly because my dad never got that with me and because I never got that with him. And I’d never get that with a daughter.
Nikki smiled and took his arm, “you’ll always be my daddy, no matter what,” and she gave him a kiss on the cheek. Jess looked over at me and smiled. She took my hand in hers.
I was about to cry and to break the mood said, “Wait a minute. JJ? College? That’s impossible. He’s, like, ten,” I laughed.
Jack smiled. “We’ve known each other a long time, Jessica. He’s, G-d help us, a senior.”
“Yet I haven’t aged a day,” I said, flicking my hair. Jessica rolled her eyes. Jack was from South Carolina originally. Here we go. “Is he considering Furman or is he following Joyce to SC?”
When I was Dan, this would’ve gotten me a sideways glance. Now, Jack just laughed. “You have a phenomenal memory, young lady. Dan, you must get in a world of trouble.”
Dan said, “More than you know,” and he laughed. Jack thought he was joking. He wasn’t.
Jack saw a couple come in. “Excuse me, but that’s one of my new district managers and her husband. I need to welcome them.” He walked away and Nikki stayed with us, until Jack said, “Honey, sorry, your mom’s not here. This is part of the trip.” I watched them approach. The husband had the same confused look I always had. He looked Jack in the eye and shook his hand. I could see the muscles in his forearm tense as if to say that he was a man too.
Jess took my hand and said, “Are you OK, honey?”
I smiled, “Fine. I’m just emotional. Must be the ovulating.”
Jess smiled, “I know you. You were thinking about your father. It’s OK.”
I feebly protested, “It was something else…” I was having visions of my father walking me down the aisle and tearing up. Of me looking at Jess in a tuxedo waiting for me. Of my father telling me he loved me and would always love me.
I was about to excuse myself to cry in private when I heard, “Jessica Silverman! Is that you?” It was Julie Mannheim and her husband Will. Julie was a manager in the Denver office and was one of the people who engaged me in conversation as Dan.
I gave her a hug and a kiss. “Julie! How have you been?”
“Doing fine. Although not as fine as you. Turn around and let me see!” I gladly did. “If you don’t mind me saying, you look amazing. Dan, why didn’t you tell me?”
I laughed, “Yeah, Dan. Why didn’t you?” This was what I needed.
Jess stammered then smiled. “I..uh..wanted to..uh..surprise you.”
“And here is exhibit A in why Dan isn’t in the field,” she said. “He can’t BS worth a lick.”
“He does fine at home,” I laughed. “How’s everything? How’s life in Denver these days?”
“Oh, it’s fine. The team is pulling its weight. Making our numbers plus. That’s boring. How’s life in litigation?”
I knew she’d remember but was always impressed nonetheless. The best reps made you believe they cared. “You’re good,” I laughed.
She smiled, “I’m a salesperson, Jess, and…”
“Your father was a lawyer. Anyway, life is fine. Jane and I were just joking that everyone told us to have a good time and relax, and we’ve only received ten e-mails since we took off.”
She laughed. “I remember when the company first started issuing Blackberries. They said it meant we were important. I’d like to be less important.”
I decided to be the good wife. “Will, how are you doing? These people,” I said, pointing at Jess and Julie, “see each other all the time. How’s life at Dish?” Will was a systems engineer for the Dish network.
He smiled, the grin of someone who knew that he was in a place where he was a curiosity at best and an afterthought at worse. Maybe I was projecting. “They’re actually putting me in charge of network operations for Sling.” Sling TV was a subscription service that was trying to get people to drop cable TV.
“Well,” I said, with my best corporate wife smile, “we’ve been thinking about cutting the cord. Give me your elevator pitch.” Jess and Julie laughed and started to talk about work, while Will and I discussed Sling. I noticed that he never asked about my job. Even in our shared condition as outsiders, I was still just the wife.
We made the rounds at the pool and said hello to a bunch of people, most of whom I had met at some point. At about 4:30, everyone started to drift away. The party was at 7 and everyone needed to relax and get ready.
At about 6:30, Jess had finished showering and shaving. She put on a blue polo shirt, khakis and deck shoes. This took all of twenty minutes.
I was putting on my make up when she said, “You look amazing.”
I was wearing a short white organza dress with little pink roses printed on it. It was short, but not too short. It passed the fingertip test. I had on sandals with 3” heels. I had had a pedicure done right before we left. My toes were pink. I wanted a friendly color and so avoided reds or darker colors. Other than shorts and work out clothes, I had packed dresses and skirts. I liked them and needed to be in the right frame of mind regardless. “What do you think of this? I can wear the shoulders up or down. It’s flirty but not too bad, no?”
She smiled at flirty and said. “It’s perfect. I knew you’d pick the right thing. I’ll be proud to have you on my arm.” Proud? That was weird.
“Proud?”
“Yeah, proud. I like having a beautiful girl on my arm. Makes me feel powerful. You never felt that way?”
I paused. “I liked having you on my arm. I never thought about power, but OK…” I couldn’t figure out what she meant, but figured now was not the time to try. “I’m glad you like the dress. I was worried I didn’t choose the right thing.”
She smiled. “I had no doubt you would. You look gorgeous.”
We walked hand in hand to the elevators. I was watching Jess. She was standing up straight, with an open stance. What I mean is her body language said, ‘this is my space.’ She stood in the middle of the elevator. I always went to the back.
Several other couples got on at various floors. The women all looked each other up and down. I could feel them mentally tearing each other apart. (“Her eyes look puffy.” “She’s put on weight.”) The ones who knew each other exchanged pleasantries, but it mostly struck me as tigers circling each other. It’s not that men weren’t doing the same thing just less subtly. Men were missiles. You could follow the flight path. Women, I had come to learn, were land mines. You didn’t know where they were buried. I was smiling until one of the men said:
“Dan, I haven’t seen you since Chicago,” he said with a chuckle. Then he turned to me and said, “your husband is a great guy.”
It was a throwaway line. He meant nothing by it. It was sales BS but it hit a nerve. Jess, and hopefully only Jess, saw my eyes flicker. I regained my composure and said, with a smile, “Yes, he is. I’m Jessica,” I said, offering my hand.
“Nice to meet the woman behind the man. I’m Nick Theodore, and this is my better half, Diana.”
Diana was about 5’5”, with dark hair and dark eyes. “Very nice to meet you both,” she said, with a bored smile that suggested that she had been in this movie more than a few times.
Jess smiled. “Nick’s down in Atlanta. He’s in Jack’s region.”
I smiled, “Jack’s a terrific guy. He’s here with his daughter,” I babbled. Anything to fill the air.
“He is,” Diana said.
I tried again. “What do you Diana?”
She looked me up and down. “I’m a teacher. And I take care of our daughters.” Just then, the elevator opened. “I see some people I know. We’ll catch up later.”
Jess and I held back for a second. “What’s wrong with me? Do I look funny? Is my makeup ruined?”
Jess, in an effort to comfort me, said, “Relax. Some women are just bitches, especially here. Just be you and you’ll do great.” I wasn’t comforted and didn’t believe that. I just had to stop myself from trying to fill the air. I always did that when I got nervous. If nothing else, the change had made me realize all of my weird habits.
We came into the informal dinner and I looked around. I saw several people that I had met over the years. My eyes were drawn to one couple. He was about 48 with salt and pepper hair. He was wearing a blazer, polo shirt and khakis. She was about the same age, blonde rinse in a blue short sleeved dress with a v neck. She had the practiced smile of a politician’s wife and a look in her eyes like she would rather be anywhere else. I turned to Jess and said, “Bruce and Ellen?” The host VP and his wife.
She smiled. “How did you know?”
“She looks bored. Watch. Everyone keeps coming over to them. See, the guys all stand a little taller and try and box out the guy next to them. The wives all smile a little more brightly and lean in slightly when he talks. Now, watch,” I said. “That blonde is going to loop her arm through her husband’s and look up at him like he’s the greatest thing ever. Watch.”
Like clockwork, she did. They made a few minutes of small talk and then Ellen would deftly maneuver to the next couple. Eventually, they made their way to us.
Jess smiled. “Bruce, great to see you outside of the office.” Bruce was based in New York, so they’d see each other around.
Bruce smiled, “You too Dan. You must be Jessica,” he said, with a smile and a handshake.
Clearly, he had memorized the list before coming. “Very nice to meet you.” I turned to Ellen and said, “You must be Ellen. I’m Jessica Silverman. It’s nice to meet you and thank you for hosting this.”
She seemed surprised but smiled. “Nice to meet you as well and you’re welcome. You’re the first person to thank me,” she said, giving Bruce a quick glance. “The travel people do the hard work though.”
I let the first part hang there. “I know but you’re still hosting, which must still be a lot to do,” I said. “Dan mentioned that you have two kids. How old are they?” They looked surprised, but amused. “He mentioned pictures in your office, Bruce. They play soccer and baseball, right?” I turned to Jess and said, “You better have the right guy…”
Ellen laughed. “You’re lucky Dan. Those are mine. Emily is 15 and Patrick is 13. How did you remember that, Jessica?”
I smiled. I almost said, ‘Girl Scout. Be prepared,’ but decided to lean in. “Professional trick.”
Bruce laughed. “Poker player or psychic?” He was a good salesman which is why he no longer had to sell. He could make others do it.
“Even worse. I’m a lawyer,” I said, with a smile.
Ellen said, “Really? I would never have guessed. You seem so…normal,” she said, with a grin. “Sorry, Bruce’s older sister is an attorney.”
I smiled, “Well, I do hope you won’t hold that against me.”
Bruce laughed. “She won’t. I may but she won’t.”
I smiled. “Dan and I both have older sisters. No explanation necessary.”
Ellen smiled and touched my arm. “Jessica, it was very nice to meet you. I would love to keep chatting but part of hosting is mingling. We’ll catch up later.” Even if that was insincere, I felt better. At least, someone talked to me.
Dinner was buffet style. I had salmon, orzo and salad. Jess ate roast beef. I would have preferred that but my clothes were not going to forgive that. I ate mostly trying not to drop anything on my dress.
We sat with two couples, Johnny and Denice from Cincinnati and Rich and Claudia from Cleveland.
Denice was the Stone person, and Johnny was a police officer. “So, you one of those people who makes my life difficult?” He growled at me after learning I was an attorney. Denice broke off from her conversation with Rick and Jess to glare at him.
“Not unless you’re putting up buildings in New York,” I said, with a smile.
He laughed, “I was just teasing you. You’re too normal to be a criminal lawyer.”
I laughed, “You’re the second person to say that to me. Do I want to know what that means?”
He just smiled. “Nope. Do you have any kids?”
“None yet,” I said, with a smile.
He smiled. “Do you want any?”
Denice swatted him and shook her head. “I think he’s taken one too many to the head.”
He said, “You didn’t let me finish. I was going to say because we’re looking to get rid of some.” Denice swatted him again.
“How many do you have,” I said.
He laughed, “Five. Ages 20 to 7. I’m looking to move my 14 year old, Jacqueline. I’ll even pick up her phone bill.”
I turned to Denice, “These must be Johnny’s from his first marriage. You are too young to have a 20 year old.”
She turned to Jess and smiled, “I like her. You treat her right.” I assumed that was a Chicago reference. It was nice to hear but made me realize that I was now a face to an act. “Nope, they are all mine. I’ve got the body to prove it,” she said, laughing. Then she went back to the Stone conversation. They were discussing a new product launch meeting.
I turned to Claudia and said, “I’m sorry. We’ve been excluding you. Tell us about you.”
She laughed, “I was having fun listening. I feel like I’m on an interview. I’m not a cop and I’m not a lawyer.”
Johnny joked, “So you’re actually normal.”
She laughed, “I’m a CPA. I guess I’m normal, boring but normal.”
“My dad’s a CPA. You’re not ALL boring,” I said, hoping she got the joke.
She laughed. “Thanks. Let’s just say that, at a party like this, no one ever says, ‘hey, look a CPA. I bet she has interesting stories!’” I liked her.
We spent fifteen more minutes talking. Claudia had a 3 year old son, Robbie. When I said that we didn’t have kids yet, she and Johnny both laughed and said, “Take your time.” Claudia said, “I love Robbie but let’s just say I’m happy with the break.” Johnny smiled and nodded.
I went up to get dessert. The one weak point of these trips, and it was admittedly a weak complaint as weak points go, was the desserts. It was fruit, petit fours and what I called “funeral cookies,” the sort of cookies you brought to someone’s house for shiva. A Catholic friend called them “christening cookies,” and asked “why funeral cookies?” I repeated the Lenny Bruce line about holidays – “Christians celebrate. Jews observe.” I knew I’d eat fruit but would’ve liked some chocolate.
I was picking up some fruit when Ellen sighed, “I could really go for some chocolate. I don’t know who picks these desserts.”
I smiled. “I know what you mean. If they had ice cream, I’d be embarrassing myself.”
She laughed, “Somehow, I doubt that. I’m sorry about before.”
“For what?” I had honestly forgotten about it. I didn’t know to what she was referring.
“Ending the conversation so abruptly.”
“No apologies necessary. You have to meet everyone. I totally get it.” Then I paused, “What’s that like? I mean I like meeting everyone.” I figured that made me sound like the good wife.
“It’s fun…mostly,” then caught herself. She smiled slyly and said, “That’s privileged, right?”
I mimed locking my lips and throwing away the key. “I didn’t hear anything.”
She smiled. “I like you. It’s fine, really, but tiring. I meet these people and I have to remember who’s who and who Bruce is happy with and who not…”
“Well, if there’s some way I can help you out, please let me know.”
She looked pleased. “Thanks. What does your husband do again?” I realized that she was trying to figure out whether I was sucking up to her.
“He’s a senior product director. He’s working on Xaldor now.”
She smiled. “So, he’s a headquarters person?” In other words, not one of her husband’s people which I was presumed was a good thing.
“Yes, he is,” I said. “We’re just cost centers,” I said, with a smile.
She laughed. “I like you Jessica. I may take you up on your offer though.” She touched my arm and said, “I am going to get to know you. But duty calls.” Out of the corner of my eye, I caught Donna Krohl looking at me. She gave me a smile and a wink.
I went to find Jess and she was in deep conversation with some of the other men. I listened for a few minutes. She was really holding her own. Everyone was busting each other’s chops, in the way that guys do to show affection, and she was giving as good as she got. She had always been insecure in these conversations but not anymore. I just watched her and was proud. I didn’t even notice that no one ever asked me anything.
I moved away and was standing by myself, alone and exposed. Courtney came over and sighed. “We’ve been on five of these trips and I never get used to it. But, this is the first one here.”
I started to say ‘excuse me,’ but realized that could be misinterpreted. “It’s seven for me, all here. I know how you feel. Where were you before?” I noticed the way I slipped into “you.” Mark and Jess were here. She and I weren’t anywhere.
She smiled. “I’m sorry about before. The kids were cranky. My mom is watching them and she was, you know…” I smiled knowingly. “Add to that that Mark just came over from GSK and I don’t know anyone here. I get nervous sometimes and then I get rude. I don’t really mean it.”
I was surprised at her openness. After all these months, I was still amazed by the way that women would admit vulnerability to each other. “I get it totally. I accept your apology even though it isn’t necessary.” It was but it was still appreciated. “Can we start over? Hi, I’m Jessica Silverman.”
She smiled. “I’m Courtney Turner. It’s nice to meet you. I love that dress, by the way. Where did you get it?”
“Thanks. Macy’s. So, Courtney, I know you’re from North Colonie and you have two kids and a mom who’s annoying, which is redundant.” She laughed. “Tell me something about you. Something Mark wouldn’t tell Dan.”
She looked surprised. I waited for her to run laughing and tell everyone what a freak I was. Instead, she looked amused, “How much time do you have?”
I smiled. “Seriously.”
She looked thoughtful. “You know, no one ever asks me that. I’m from St Paul. I went to the University of Minnesota, where Mark and I met. I have a masters’ in early childhood education, not that I get to use it with all the moves.”
“How many times have you moved?”
“Three times in five years and I know we’re not done. Sharks and all,” she said, rolling her eyes. The mantra in the field was apparently be a shark – keep moving or die. The further up you moved, the bigger the shark you were. The metaphor annoyed me. You’re not a shark. You’re a salesman.
“Wow. That has to be a killer. So, you have a masters’ degree. What would you do if you could do anything?”
“Huh?” I guessed that no one ever asked her that. Or asked her much about herself. She was Mark’s wife, Jenna and C.J.’s mom. I felt bad about how I mocked her before.
“What would you do if you could do anything? Professionally, I mean.”
“Early intervention,” she said immediately. Clearly, she had thought about this. This was her room.
“Kindergarten early?”
“Earlier than that. My thesis was on interventions with toddlers. They said that wealthy kids hear thousands more words by the time they’re age 3 and it impacts brain development. These less well-off kids start off at this huge disadvantage. And it’s not just the number of words, it’s the quality. Sorry, that’s kind of wonky.” I had noticed the way that women apologized so much. And I understood now why it drove Evelyn so nuts. Courtney was smart and had an idea, but she was afraid to own it.
“Don’t apologize. I asked.” I thought about what she said for a second. “That makes sense. I walk around my neighborhood and I hear all these moms, ‘Look at the blue car. Look at the white dog. Yes, honey, the sign says ‘Stop.’ It’s an octagon. A red octagon. Where’s your nose? I half expect the kid to say, ‘shut up already.’” She laughed. “But then I’m thinking about the women on the train and it’s usually be quiet or eat your chips and I totally get that they’re probably going to or from work and are way tired, but what you’re saying totally makes sense. That sounds like a great thing you want to do. Better than me. Protecting the rich and powerful from the poor and powerless.”
She smiled. “Someone has to. That’s how do-gooders like me get paid.” She paused, “I don’t know why I told you all this.” Because you recognize that I’m not one of you. That, even if I wanted, there’s no one for me to run screaming to. Because you want to be heard like I do. “This is between us, right?”
“Ask me if you should get sued.” She looked at me like I was nuts. “Just ask it.”
“Should I get sued,” she asked warily.
I smiled. “No. Now I’m your attorney and this is privileged.”
She giggled. “OK. I thought you were a lawyer.”
“I’ll take that as a compliment, I think.”
“It is. You’re smart and you ask questions. Anyway, again, I’m sorry about before. I really like talking to you. I don’t get that kind of chance too often, especially not here.” Mark was waving to her to come over. She sighed, “Time to pretend,” she said, fluffing her hair with her fingers. “Do you want to see if we can go to the same informal dinner?”
I smiled. In seven years, I don’t remember that ever happening. We just ended up assigned to a group, like mismatched guests at a wedding. “That would be terrific.”
“I’ll ask the planner,” she said, walking away.
I felt better. I had made a friend. Two maybe, if Ellen was being sincere. I felt a little less alone.
Jess came over. “I saw you talking to Courtney. I’m surprised. You looked pretty upset with her in the airport.” I shouldn’t have been surprised that she noticed, but I was. I had forgotten that she had been this a lot longer than I was.
“It’s fine. She’s cool. She was just having a shit day. Plus she’s new. They just came from GSK.” It’s amazing. One day on a trip and I’m using the plural.
“What were you guys talking about for so long?”
“Educational theory.”
“Educational theory?”
“Yes. Educational theory. She has a master’s in early childhood and we were talking about language and brain development in infants and toddlers.”
“How did you get there?”
I smiled. “I asked.” The look on Jess’ face told me that she never had and would never have thought to. “Anyway, she asked if we wanted to try and be in the same informal dinner group. I said yes. Is that OK?”
She looked shocked. “That’s, uh, great. I like Mark,” she said, with a smile and a shake of her head.
That, unfortunately, was the high point of my evening. I met some of the wives, or other wives to be accurate. The conversation was fine. But, every so often, one of the managers would bring up Chicago. And I felt like they were looking at me.
After the sixth time, I said, “Can you excuse me for a minute?” I went off to a bathroom away from the group and I cried. I looked at myself in the mirror. I looked in the mirror and I saw me look back. Not Jessica, me. I felt emasculated and cuckolded. I thought I was past it, but I wasn’t. I loved Jess. In my heart and mind, I knew it was a one-time stupid mistake. But hearing everyone talk about the trip just made me remember what had happened and I threw up.
I sat on a bench and cried for five more minutes. Then I splashed some cold water on my face and went back out. My eyes were red. I fixed my makeup and I got a glass of wine to cover my breath and calm my nerves, and walked back over to Jess.
She was standing with a group of people. “I was about to send a search party,” she said with a smile. The smile was for everyone’s benefit. I could see concern in her eyes, but I wasn’t sure whether it was for me or for her.
“Sorry. Woman stuff.” I knew that would end the inquiry. Jess gave me a look that called bullshit on me but didn’t say anything. I was going to excuse myself but decided that wasn’t fair to Jess. She hadn’t done anything. I mean she had, but she didn’t make people bring up Chicago.
We went up to the room and started to get undressed.
“What happened?” She said. “Why were you gone so long? I got worried.”
“Nothing,” I said. “I needed some time alone. To clear my head.”
“You were crying.”
“No, I wasn’t.”
She looked at me. “It may be your face now but it was mine for 33 years. I could tell. Why?”
I took a deep breath. “Chicago.”
“That was one time. I told you that. I thought you believed me.”
“That’s not it. It’s everyone talking about how great the trip was. And then they look at me. I feel like a freak. A weirdo cuckold freak,” and I started to cry again.
She hugged me tight. “You are not a freak. I’m an asshole. I was an asshole then and I’m an asshole now for not stopping the conversation. But no one thinks anything about you except that you’re beautiful.”
“Yeah, well, I feel it. I don’t mean to ruin your night.”
“You didn’t. I hate that you’re in pain. I wish I had a time machine to change what happened.” She looked miserable.
I decided to lighten the mood. “I’d use it for lottery tickets and Amazon stock, personally.”
She laughed. “I’m serious. And I’m sorry I didn’t notice.”
“It’s OK. I was proud of you tonight.”
“Proud?”
I looked her in the eye, took her hand and said, “Yeah. Proud. I was watching you today. You were strong and confident. And I was listening to you and Sean and you really know your stuff. Maybe, I never said it enough but I’m really proud of…” and I was going to say, ‘the man you’ve become,’ but that sounded like something your dad says at graduation. “How you’ve handled everything. How you’ve adapted. I’m proud to be on your arm.”
Jess just said. “Thank you. I love you.”
“I love you too.”
“Were the Barbies OK to you?”
“Most of them. You know what? Can we not call them Barbies anymore?” I said, hanging up my dress. I went into the bathroom to take off my makeup and wash my face.
Jess came in and stood behind me. “OK. Sure. What brought that on?”
I looked at her in the mirror and said, “They’re people, not plastic. And I want to think of them that way. And now I’m one of them. So let’s not, OK?” I was starting to get upset. I don’t know why. They weren’t my friends. I thought about it. That was her term. And I wasn’t her. I was me and I needed to distance myself from her. So that I could put Chicago out of my mind.
She looked shocked. “It was just a comment. I know you’re agitated. So, let’s not talk about it, OK?”
I went into my drawer. I was going to put on a nightie but wasn’t in the mood now. I put on a big Wisconsin t-shirt and got into bed. I leaned over, gave Jess a kiss and passed out. Tomorrow was another day.
Once again, LIzzy Bennet, thank you for all of your help and encouragement
I woke up Tuesday morning ready to face the day. Today was the day we were going to try and get pregnant. I had been regularly checking my basal temperature and I was sure that this afternoon was the perfect time.
Jess was next to me, still snoring. I looked at the ceiling and thought about yesterday. “Do you really think people care that much? Do you really think they spent time going, ‘do you think she knows he cheated on her?’ No, they didn’t. People are self-absorbed. If they thought about Chicago at all, it was when they saw Jess and then they moved on. Calm down. Be positive. Today is the day. No matter what, be positive. I was not going to let anything bother me. Let’s start the baby on the right path. Happy daddy. Happy mommy,” and I smiled. I was going to be a mommy and I touched my stomach. I couldn’t wait to feel someone growing inside me.
I decided to go down to the lobby and get coffee and bagels to surprise Jess. Maybe, I’d grab her a chocolate chip muffin as well. She liked chocolate chip muffins. We called it the socially acceptable way to eat cake for breakfast. I put on a t-shirt and shorts, pulled my hair into a ponytail and went downstairs. I debated putting on makeup and decided against it. It was 7:30 in the morning and I figured no one would be there and, if they were, so be it.
I walked into the lobby and got the coffee and bagels. I looked out onto the patio, saw the sun and smelled the ocean. I decided that Jess would probably be sleeping for a while, so I thought I’d sit for a while and just enjoy the day. I was relaxing and just letting the sun shine on my face. When you’ve spent all winter in New York, it feels rejuvenating to be able to sit in the sun in shorts and t shirt and just relax.
I watched the travel staff supervise the hotel workers in setting up for the beach Olympics. It was 7:30 and they were up and working already and the Olympics started at 10:00 A.M. I could see why Rachel said that they had burn out. “Hi, Jessica,” I heard a woman say. I turned around it. It was Becca.
I took a deep breath. “Hi, Becca.” I hoped she’d go away. This was not a way to start my positive day.
She didn’t. “Did you have a good time last night? It was great meeting you.” I was not a morning person even with people I liked.
“It was good. Good to see everyone.” I paused, “What about you and Kristy?”
“We had a good time. It’s nice to meet the husbands and wives of the people you know.” Don’t you mean the wives of the men you fucked?
“That’s great,” I said, “I was going to surprise Dan with this, so I should get upstairs before it’s get cold. I’ll see you on the beach. You and Kristy.” OK, that last part was unnecessary.
“Yup,” she said, in a chipper voice. “See you there! Which team?” How long, bitch, do you expect me to talk to you?
“We’re blue.”
“We’re white. Well, good luck.”
I held up the coffees. “You too. See you later.”
I walked upstairs and started to get irritated. How dare she come over to me and think we’re going to be friends? Then, I took a deep breath. Be positive. Send positive thoughts into the world. I read that somewhere. Think about what makes you happy. Jess makes you happy. The sun, the ocean make you happy. This afternoon makes you happy. I opened the door. Jess was just waking up. “Where did you go?”
I smiled. “I got you coffee and a muffin. Or a bagel. Your choice,” I said, putting it on the nightstand next to her. She was in her underwear with no shirt. She looked good and I wanted her in the worst way, but I wanted a baby more and so I waited. Stupid basal temperature.
“Wow, that’s so sweet. Thank you,” she said, giving me a kiss. “You’re the best.”
I smiled, “Thanks, so are you.”
“Are you OK? You were pretty agitated last night,” she said, sitting up.
I smiled and put my finger to her lips. “That was yesterday. Today, I’m being positive.” I was almost starting to believe that. “Today is about positivity. We are going to do beach Olympics, then lay by the pool and then you,” I said, grabbing her crotch, “are going to impregnate me. Are you ready for that?”
She smiled and pulled me backwards. She was an inch from my face and said, “I’m always willing to try. As many times as necessary. More if you think that’ll help.” My pulse was racing. I needed to get up or we’d be doing it now.
“Stop, it’s not even twelve hours and then I’m all yours.” I couldn’t believe I was saying this but I knew I meant it. “Please.”
She kissed me. “I can wait. We’re going to be parents.”
I smiled. “Last chance. Do you want to wait to see if we switch back?” She better not say yes, I thought.
She smiled and took my hand. “Not one bit. You?”
I smiled, “No,” I said, taking off my shirt and shorts. “I’m going to change. Do you think I should shower first?” I had no idea why I was asking her. I think I felt the need to fill space.
“There’s no need. You showered last night. We’re going to be in the sand and stuff. You’ll shower before dinner tonight.” That was a fair point.
I went to my drawer and took out my bathing suit.
Jess said, “Hold on. What’s that?” She was smiling.
Busted. I held it behind my back. “Nothing. A bathing suit,” I said playfully.
“What kind of bathing suit?”
“A blue one,” I said coyly.
She got up and started tickling me. It was no fair. I was ticklish and naked. If she kept doing this, I was going to be in that bed. I giggled, “Stop,” and dropped it.
She smiled. “Well, look, what we have here,” she said, holding up the blue bathing suit. I forgot to mention that it was a bikini, a classic string bikini. “When did you get this?”
“Last week. When Robin and I went to Flywheel,” a spin class/torture program and an amazing workout.
“Yeah…,” she said, holding it in the air.
“Give me the bikini,” I said. I jumped but couldn’t reach it. I can only imagine what I looked like. Probably outtakes from “The Man Show.”
“No,” she grinned. “I like when a naked girl tells me stories….”
I actually liked this, which was freaking me out a little. “I told her I needed bathing suits and so we went over to Paragon. I took some one-pieces. She asked whether that was a company requirement. When I said, ‘no,’ she took those away and handed me bikinis.”
She smiled, “I knew I liked her. What did you do then?”
“I went into the dressing room, stood there for a while until Robin shamed me and then I put one on.”
“And?”
“And,” I said, with a smile. “I checked myself in the mirror and I didn’t look so bad. The kicker was when I came out.”
“What happened?”
“A stock boy was looking at me and crashed into a display rack,” I giggled. I put on the bikini and looked at myself in the mirror, like I had at the store. I shifted my breasts around. I checked out my abs and my ass. I looked fine, but It was still a strange feeling. All there was three triangles of fabric separating me from being naked before everyone.
“Wow!”
“So I look OK?” I said. I knew the answer, but wanted the validation.
“Absolutely, I….” and then she paused.
“You what?” I was nervous.
“I could never pull that off,” she said.
“Of course not. You’d look silly in a bikini,” and I held the top to another one to her chest.
“That’s not what I mean and you know it.” I knew what she meant. “I meant before.”
“You could’ve when we got married,” then paused. That was mean. “I meant we both put on weight. Me more…” I fumbled.
She smiled. “I love watching you sweat. I meant even when I was at my thinnest. I just couldn’t.”
“I have to tell you. I couldn’t either, not until Robin pushed me.”
“Pushed you?”
“She told me that I wasn’t the chubby girl anymore.” Jess had a half smile. “She said that I earned it and that I needed to think that way. And I still had to be pushed and I didn’t grow up with all that passive aggressive shit women pull. The “you have a pretty face,” crap. The “wear this, not that” crap. The “find the right suit for your body” crap. I didn’t have any of that and I still had a hard time with it.” I couldn’t believe that all of this was coming from me but I meant it.
She smiled. “She’s right although, ouch, chubby girl. That hurts. You have earned it. You know that, right?”
“Yeah, and this is still freaking me out.”
“Why? You look gorgeous. Be prepared for a lot of death stares,” she laughed.
“That’s just it. This is going to sound really weird but I’m kind of freaking about being an object.”
“Being an object?” The words said she didn’t understand but her eyes told me she did and was just waiting for an explanation.
“I’m the girl in the bikini. That’s THE symbol of female sexuality in America. Guys wait for the SI swimsuit issue every year and now that’s me,” I started to feel short of breath.
Jess sat me down on the bed. “Are you OK?”
I stopped for a few seconds. “I’m sorry. That was weird.”
“It’s not weird,” she said. “A little over intellectual, maybe, but it’s not weird. You’re a woman. A beautiful woman. A beautiful woman in a bikini,” she said, with a smile. “Combine that with your ability to over-analyze everything and your response is totally normal.”
“Shut up,” I said. I hated when she was right. “Sorry. I mean every time I think I’m used to this girl thing something else comes up. I mean it’s ridiculous. We’re going to try and get pregnant. To get ME pregnant. Which I want more than anything. I mean, if that’s not being a girl….and I’m worried about a bikini?”
She smiled. “Those are two different things, Jessa.” I noticed that she called me ‘Jessa,’ not ‘Dan’ or ‘honey’ or ‘sweetie.’ ‘Jessa,’ which I never called her. “Pregnancy is you and me, well until I get you knocked up,” she said, with a leer and a ‘heh heh’. “This is public. More than a dress or heels or anything. It’s a bikini, you said it, that’s as girly as its gets. But, keep in mind two things. Number one, you won’t be the only one in a bikini although you’ll be the most beautiful. Number two, you earned it. You have worked hard and you’ve earned it. And I don’t just mean workouts.”
“Huh?” I said.
“You’ve had to learn a whole new way of being. You’ve had to keep your mind and your job while learning about how to be a woman. About all the shit women have to go through all day every day that guys don’t. I never thought about it before but that’s impossible and you’ve learned it in a year and have done great at it.”
“You had to learn to be a guy,” I said. “That’s hard too.”
“It is but it isn’t. You spent your whole life learning to drive a tank and you had to learn how to drive a race car. I had to do the reverse. It’s the same but it’s different. Plus, I worked with guys. I had experience with them and women are trained to listen, especially to men, so I had that. Guys are trained to talk. You had to learn how to listen. How to deal with other women and with men and you have done amazing, better than me. No one would know that you weren’t born this way.”
That stung. “Thanks, I think.”
She looked at me and said, “It’s a compliment. You are still you. You have the same brain. You have the same heart. This is going to sound weird but, to me, it’s like when people lose their sight, their other senses get heightened. Well, you lost your…something and your other senses got sharper.”
“So why am I freaking out?”
“Because you’re you. What did we say about getting pregnant? Don’t think. Just be.”
She was right. I needed to just be. Just be me. I earned this. I worked hard for this. I ran until my legs hurt. Got up at 5:30 in the cold for Pilates. I did Flywheel until my lungs burned. I smiled, “I earned this. I earned this and I’m owning this. Do I really look good?”
She leered and grabbed me by the waist. I could feel her erection poking me in the ass. “Please go put on shorts and a shirt, before I can’t hold back,” she said. “Does that tell you?” I giggled. She looked through the drawer and pulled out a white bikini. She held it up. “No way. Uh uh. Absolutely no way.”
“No way what?”
She smiled. “There is NO way that you are going to wear this here in front of my co-workers. This is way too sexy for them. This is for when you and I go away ALONE.”
I put on my shorts and my t-shirt, my small t-shirt. Tracey was right, it did look better. I looked at myself in the mirror. When I smiled, I looked really cute. No, what I looked was girly. With my bangs and my blue eyes and my curves, I was all girl. I thought about what Jess said and decided to take it as a positive, as she meant it. I was thrown into a pool and I learned how to swim. No, I was thrown into an ocean and learned how to swim.
We drank the coffee and went down for breakfast. I had taken a bite of both the bagel and the muffin and decided they weren’t worth it. If you’re going to be the girl in the bikini, you take the bad with the good.
We ran into Doug and Donna in the elevator. “Good morning, guys,” I said. “We met at the airport,” I said.
Donna smiled, “I remember, Jessica. Our conversation was cut off,” she said, with a smile and a look at Doug. Doug gave her a look back that said, alternatively, “don’t go there,” or “don’t go there when I’m here.”
“Well, you had to catch the shuttle,” I said, with a sweet smile. “So, tell me about you guys. How long have you worked for Stone,” I said, putting a subtle emphasis on Stone. Donna smiled quickly. Maybe Jess was right. Maybe losing my…whatever…had sharpened my perception. Or maybe I just wouldn’t have cared before.
Doug smiled, “Nine years. It’ll be nine years in March. What about you, Dan?”
“Twelve. I started two weeks after I graduated.”
The elevator opened on the lobby and we walked towards the dining room. “What about you, Donna? What do you do?”
“I’m a part time software designer and full time mom to three…”
“Three, wow. How old?”
“Carly is seven. Michael is three and the baby,” and she pointed at Doug, “is 35,” she said, laughing. I thought about that later. That always bothered me. All women talked about their husbands as children. It brought back when Lori said that Jess used to say that she didn’t have children because she already had me. Were all men children? Had I been? Or was it just a way to exert power when you felt you had none? “What about you guys,” she said?
“None yet. Soon maybe,” I said, taking Jess’ hand. She smiled.
Doug smiled, “I know what this one says he does. What about you?”
“I’m an attorney. I do civil litigation, mostly real estate and construction.”
Donna laughed, “Well, my dad would hate you. He’s in construction. He always says that the lawyers make his life difficult. Lawyers make my life easier.”
“Now there’s a phrase I never hear,” I said. “How so?”
“I design e-discovery software systems. We’re in beta testing now and we’re looking for attorneys to test it. There’s an incentive system in place…” I was shocked. Another Barbie down.
“Donna,” Doug said. “I’m sure Jessica wants to relax.”
I laughed and said, “I can do both, Doug. Women can multi-task, you know.” Jess looked at me and raised an eyebrow.
To his credit, he smiled and mocked stabbing himself in the chest. “My mistake for messing with a lawyer. Dan, buddy, I feel for you.” Jess just laughed and looked at me.
We continued the conversation into the dining room when Donna saw Bonnie, who gave her a look. Under her breath, she said, “Sorry. The head shark is swimming.”
I smiled and said, “I get it. I do want to hear more about this. Anything that makes discovery easier is good for me. I mean I don’t have final authority, but, if it works, I’ll push for it. We’ll catch up later. Give her a big smile.” She snickered and walked over, giving Bonnie a big smile.
Jess and I walked over to the buffet. She said, as we walked, “I never knew that. Doug never told me that.” ‘Of course, you didn’t,’ I thought. ‘He wouldn’t tell you and you’d never ask.’
“Well, we’ll see what she has. If it works, I’ll push Mike and IT to try it.” I thought about asking if she told people about me but decided against it.
We sat down at a table with the managers from the Northwest region. I spent most of breakfast talking to two women, Ashley and Dana, whose wives were managers. Ashley was a pre-school teacher and Dana a nurse. Neither one had kids which made the conversation that much less stilted. We just talked about work. I made a mental note to introduce Ashley to Courtney.
At ten o’clock, Bruce stood in front of the dining room and announced that the Olympics were to begin. There were three teams, red, white and blue. He smiled and said, “Remember, while there are three teams, we’re all on one team – Team Stone,” and everyone cheered. Out of the corner of my eye, I caught a glimpse of Jane who gave me a quick eye roll to go with her cheer. Sean looked like he was trying to decide if he could publish in social science.
Beach Olympics was a series of silly events. The first event was a boat race. Basically, you started digging a trench from the ocean to a point on the beach. Once the trench filled with water, you blew the boat from the point to the ocean. The first team to get the trench dug and back to the ocean won. I guess the idea was you worked as a team to get the trench dug and the boat back. Whatever.
Bruce blew the whistle and we started digging. G-d help me but, for whatever reason, I was having fun. Something about sitting on the beach as an adult and digging a trench with a toy shovel started to crack me up. Maybe, I was remembering being a kid down the shore or maybe I was hormonal, but I was giggling and digging. I felt people looking at me but I didn’t care. Once our trench was dug, Rick, our team captain, yelled, “OK, everyone line up and start blowing.” We all laid down, about two feet apart on a diagonal and started blowing. I was the one closest to the ocean. Everyone was having a good time. Everyone except Bonnie, who was on the white team. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw her looking like she owed people money and they’d break her legs if she lost. ‘Well,’ I thought, ‘you can always get a cane because I’m not losing.’ I was competitive as Dan and that hadn’t changed. The boat got to me and I blew as hard as I could. The water lapped up to my face. I was wet and covered in sand. I had sand everywhere, and I mean everywhere, and I didn’t care. I was not going to lose.
Bruce blew the whistle and announced, “And the blue team wins.” Yes. My whole team congratulated each other.
Bonnie came over and said, under her breath, “Good job, Jessica. You must have a lot of experience with…blowing,” and walked away. ‘Yeah, bitch,’ I thought, ‘if you’re doing it that way, I feel bad for John.’
The rest of the events were even sillier. The next event was the crocodile relay. Basically, every team had a giant inflatable crocodile. The first person passed it over their head to the person in front of them, the next person passed it backward through their legs and the third person stood up and passed it medicine ball-style to the person and so on. If you missed, you had to start over. I wasn’t sure how this helped in business, but I guess it had something to do with working as a unit. I was on medicine-ball. Something about a guy passing a crocodile through his legs to me made me giggle and I almost passed it overhead, but I remembered. Either way, we finished second.
Next up was the life raft relay. Basically, they gave you a bunch of foam rubber pool noodles and some rope. You had to build a raft and put three people on it. You then took it out to a buoy in the ocean and four other people pushed you to shore. Bruce blew the whistle and we started. Everyone was looking at the noodles and trying to decide the best way to thread them together when Jess piped up. “OK, line up the noodles, then thread it over and under. It’ll hold tighter that way.” I looked at her and, under her breath, she said “Girl Scouts,” she said with a grin. We got it done quickly and Jess tied some slip knots. She tugged on them and said, “OK, Claudia, Katie and Jessa, you’re the lightest, so you’re on the raft. Come on, go go. Sorry, Rick.” Rick just smiled and saluted. We ran out into the water and climbed on. Three guys started pushing us, when a wave hit. We fell overboard. I was wet and my shorts and short were clinging to me. You could see the bikini. Had I thought about it, I probably would have frozen but I didn’t. I was having fun, in a way I never had before. I pushed my hair back, climbed back on the raft and we were pushed to shore. We finished first and everyone congratulated Jess for her raft. It felt good to see her happy.
I won’t bore you with all the other events. There was a human pyramid. It felt weird to be on the second highest level. I had been the base for as long as I could remember. Corn hole, where you had to throw a bean bag into a hole on a board. No one expected it but I won that. Years of basketball and “pop-a-shot” made me a champ at that. The one that threw me was the buried alive rally. Basically, you had to bury one of your teammates completely in sand. The first team to do it won. I was claustrophobic. No, I am claustrophobic. I don’t like elevators. When I was eight and we went to England, my parents had me stand in one of those British phone booths. They closed the door and I felt so short of breath that I pounded on the door to be let out. So buried alive was not for me. But:
“OK,” Rick said, “someone has to do it and it should be someone small, so we can do it faster. Katie?” Katie was Rick’s wife. She looked at him like, ‘if you bury me alive, you will wish I buried you alive.’
“Claudia?” Claudia said, “No way. Sorry. I’ll take one for the team, but nuh uh.”
“OK, Jessie, it’s you.” First off, I’m not Jessie. Second, no way.
Jess knew I was claustrophobic and said, “I’ll do it. If we work fast, we’ll get it done.”
I took a deep breath, “No, that’s ridiculous. Everyone else is using women. I’ll do it.”
Bruce said, “Has everyone picked their victim?” Everyone laughed. Except me. Because it wasn’t funny. “Ready?”
I yelled, “You better blow that whistle the minute the last scoop of sand covers my face!” Everyone laughed. I wasn’t joking. I took a deep breath and he blew the whistle. I laid down on the ground and everyone started covering me with sand. They gave me a mask for my eyes to keep the sand out. I kept taking deep breaths and saying, “this is a game. This is a game. This is a game.”
Jess leaned over and whispered, “Are you sure you’re OK?”
“Shut up and cover me with the fucking sand so we can get this done,” I muttered. I had about six panic attacks before I heard the whistle blow. “Blue team!” Bruce shouted. Everyone congratulated me. I smiled. What made it better was looking at Bonnie’s team, who finished third. It almost made up for the Xanax I needed.
We finished second overall. As they were handing out the medals, Bruce said, “And the good sport medals go to Jessica Silverman, Gina Carlucci and Dana Faraday, for allowing themselves to be buried alive. Good job team! Drinks are on me.” Everyone cheered, even though everything was paid for.
We were walking to the beach when Jane came over, “What got into you today?”
“What?”
“You looked like you were having fun. Please say it isn’t so,” she said, laughing.
“Stop it,” I said, swatting her.
“I’m teasing. Seriously, though, you seem really happy,” she said. “What’s changed?”
“I haven’t changed.” Other than losing my dick, I mean.
She looked at me and said, “No, seriously. You seem really happy. How did you do it?”
I couldn’t say that I had accepted that I was a girl. That I was trying to get pregnant. That I decided to embrace my reality. That would be weird. I just said, “I don’t know. I decided that I only saw these women once a year and that I was going to be positive.” It was getting too earnest for Jane and me and so I added, “no matter what they did.”
She smiled. “That’s better. How come we never hang out? I mean at home.” I thought about it. I don’t know why we didn’t. I liked Jane. I liked Sean. Maybe it’s because it was on Jess and Jane to make plans and they weren’t friends. I was friends with Jane and it would’ve been weird for me to call.
“I have no idea. Let’s,” I said, smiling.
She smiled. “I’d like that. But if you keep this up, I’m going to have to report you to the bar.”
“Ha ha. Speaking of the bar, I could use a drink. That sand thing? I had like six panic attacks.”
We walked up the beach to the hotel. Jess and Sean were in conversation about I don’t know what, but they seemed to be getting along. We could totally do this. Maybe the positive vibes were paying off.
We stopped at the outdoor shower to rinse off. I had sand everywhere and I mean everywhere. I asked Jane and Jess to hold up some towels while I rinsed off. I had taken off my shirt and shorts and it hit me. I was standing there in my bikini. I was the girl in the bikini. Like I said before, three triangles of fabric kept me from being naked. I felt naked and exposed and got light-headed. I sat down.
“Are you OK, Jess?” Jane said, sitting down next to me on a bench.
“OK, this is going to sound really weird, but it’s my first time in a bikini and I’m kind of freaking. OK, I know I sound like a loser.”
She smiled, “If it wasn’t you, I’d call you a bitch. You look amazing. I would kill to wear that bikini. I am so jealous.”
“Sorry, I didn’t mean it that way.”
She smiled, “Please. I know that you didn’t. I totally get it. But you did it, so show it. Stick it to them,” she said, pointing off to the hotel. In a mock-serious voice, she said, “For all of the first years working until 12 o’clock. For the pale and pasty. For the over-stressed and over-caffeinated. For the bitter and jaded,” she said, pointing to herself. “Be our light.”
I started laughing. “And I thought I was weird.” I was surprised. That was almost earnest for Jane. I liked that feeling of support. Guys didn’t do that.
Jane’s phone buzzed and she looked at it. “They’re still not bothering me,” she said, with a derisive laugh. “I’ll catch up,” and she walked off yelling, “fine, conference him in.”
Jess took my hand and whispered to me. “Are you OK?”
I smiled, “Yeah, I am. I’ll be fine.”
“I’m sorry you never got the view I’m getting right now,” she said, with a sad smile.
“I had a better one,” I said. It felt good to say that. I felt connected to her.
We walked up and looked for chairs. I saw Cindy and Jeff. “Are these taken?” I said, pointing to the chairs next to them.
She looked me up and down, “Yes.” I moved down a couple and and she said, “Those are too.” With a false smile, she said, “I think the whole row is,” and she pointed away, “Maybe over there somewhere.” Whatever. You can’t kill my positivity today. I don’t know you and I don’t have to know you. We walked along and I became acutely aware of guys staring at me. I know that sounds egotistical. I mean there were plenty of beautiful women there but I had been me for 33 years. If a cute girl in a bikini walked past, I noticed. I was conflicted. On the one hand, I liked having my work recognized even if the guys weren’t thinking about it that way. On the other hand, none of these guys had asked me about me. I wasn’t a person. I was just Dan’s wife, an object like Dan’s car or Dan’s watch. OK, I was spinning. We found some chairs. I had sprayed on some sun block and was reading on my Kindle when Nikki said, “Is this seat taken?”
I smiled, “It’s yours,” and she and Jack sat down. She pulled out “Modern Bride.”
“So, I didn’t get a chance yesterday. When’s the big day? Where’s the wedding going to be?”
She got a big smile. “It’s going to be next June, I know, so stereotypical, and we’re going to have it in Hilton Head, I mean everyone lives in South Carolina anyway so we’ll all go and my dad and all the guys can play golf and…” She was so bubbly and excited. 22 and full of hope. It was contagious.
Jack turned to Jess and laughed, “How ‘bout the Heat? They’re looking good this year, huh?”
She laughed, “Yup. Lookin’ good. Definitely. May stay down here a couple of days to go huntin’. Gator huntin’.” This was a joke she and I had, back in the old days. Anytime things got too girly, I would say that.
I rolled my eyes. “So, Nikki, can I see what you’re thinking about?” She started showing me various dresses.
We looked at a dress with a high waist. “What do you think? I’m worried about the waist. It’s high...”
“It’s gorgeous, but I could see what you’re thinking.” She had a small bust and that would draw attention to it. I flipped the pages. “How about this one? With the lower waist, it would totally show off your figure. I’m totally jealous.” Jess was half-listening and gave me a bemused look.
She smiled and folded down the page. “Thanks. That makes total sense. What about this one? Do you think I’ll look OK in sleeveless?”
I took her arm. There was no flab. “Please,” I smiled “Now you’re just bragging. You would look amazing.”
“What did you wear?”
I flipped through and found a similar dress to what Jess had worn. Satin, sleeveless with a little lace jacket. “Kind of like this.”
“Really? Huh.” Like she couldn’t see me wearing it. Neither could I. I had seen a dress a few pages before that was beautiful. The kind that I would wear if I was getting married now.
I smiled. “It was five years ago.” Jess looked sad and rubbed her eyes. “You OK, honey?”
“Yeah, I’m fine. Contacts are itchy. Did you bring the drops?” I handed her some drops from the beach bag and she put them in her eyes. She didn’t wear contacts. She turned to Jack and said, “I could use a drink. Jess, Nikki?”
“Pina colada for me,” I said, looking at the magazine.
Nikki looked at Jack and said, “Diet Coke?”
Jack smiled, “You’re an adult. I’m sure you’ve had a couple of drinks at school…”
She laughed, “Pina colada for me too,” she said, flipping the pages and folding them down.
Jack said, “Let me join you, Dan. The longer I stay, the more I realize how much their conversation will cost me.”
“Jack, you’ll love every cent of it,” I said. “And you know it.” I knew he would. I saw it last night. I saw it on other trips too. He loved his kids equally but his eyes lit up when he talked about Nikki. And I was a little jealous. I never had that. And I never would.
He groaned and smiled. “And I used to like you…” Jess and Jack walked away.
Nikki turned to me. “Can I say something?”
“You just did,” I said, smiling.
She looked slightly confused then smiled in understanding. “Serious. Thank you.”
“For what?”
“For talking to me.”
That was bizarre. “What? Why wouldn’t I?”
“I don’t mean it that way. I mean my mom is fine and all. But she’s got her own ideas,” she said, sighing and looking up at the sky. I did it too. Like if you looked up long enough, you’d find the answer.
“Ouch. I’m only 33.”
She blushed. “I didn’t mean it that way.”
“I’m kidding,” I said, touching her arm.
“I mean, like, she can’t just like what I like. Or just keep quiet. It’s always ‘oh, you like that?’”
“I know. It sucks sometimes.” I remembered Jess’ mom when we were getting married. I thought they’d kill each other. “J..my mother and I almost killed each other. You don’t know how many times Dan told me to breathe. Realize that this is her one chance to be mother of the bride. When JJ gets married – stop rolling your eyes, it will happen – she gets nothing. So this is her show. Plus, it’s weird for her. She’s mother of the bride. Last time, she got to be the bride.” I paused for a second. If everything held, that’s what I’d be someday. I’d be someone’s mom and someone’s mother-in-law. I suddenly felt old. Which was ridiculous since we weren’t even pregnant yet. But I still had that pang of realization. I paused for a second, not enough for Nikki to notice but enough for me. “It probably makes her feel like she’s old. Last time, it was her show and now you’re the center. Like she’s passing the torch. And that has to feel weird.”
“Huh,” she said. “I never thought about it like that. Why does she have to be that way though?”
I laughed. “That one is way beyond my pay grade. You should find this book called ‘You’re Wearing That?’ It’s about mothers and daughters. Really calmed…me down.”
She laughed. “My mother’s book would be,” and she imitated her mother looking her up and down. I remembered Joyce and it was a perfect imitation. I realized that Emma would be imitating me like that one day. Or Jess. But probably me. “‘I don’t have to wear it, you do.’ My grandmother’s would be ‘Oh. Is that what people are wearing now?”
I laughed. “Just enjoy the day and the planning. I’m happy to listen. No judgments.”
“Thanks,” she said, touching my arm. “Were your friends weird during it?”
“Some were. I think it depended on whether they had a boyfriend. My friend Lori got kind of bitchy.” I remembered how, the minute Jess started talking about the wedding, even about something as stupid as little hot dogs, which, despite Jess’ complaints, were the most popular hors d’oeuvres, Lori would start sniping. When I’d ask why she put up with that, Jess would say something like, ‘but she’s my friend,’ as if that explained it. Sammie was right though. That’s why I kind of let the friendship die. Like I told Jess, I hadn’t heard from her in a few months and didn’t miss it. Nikki looked worried. “Nikki. Don’t look so upset. It’s fine. We were OK after the wedding. I think some girls just get jealous. And they should be. You’re beautiful and will be a beautiful bride. Who’s the lucky guy?”
She took out her phone. “This is him. Jason.” He was about 6’2” with sandy blond hair and green eyes.
“He is one good looking guy.” And he was. And I felt it. “How did you meet?”
“He was friends with a friend’s boyfriend. We met at a pool party three years ago.”
“And your mom didn’t tell me last year?” And she wouldn’t have told me, when I was Dan. She probably said “She’s fine. Thank you for asking,” in that way that women do when men they sort of know ask about their kids. Enough to be polite, but keeping you at arms-length. If Jess had asked first, I could’ve followed up. But I couldn’t go first. “How do your parents like him?”
“My mom says he’s cute. And my dad says he’s a good golfer. So, everyone is fine with him.”
“That’s good. It took my dad a while to warm up to Danny.” Truthfully, it took Marty a while to warm up to me. I wasn’t really sure he had until this last trip.
We sat for a while and looked at dresses and talked about her senior year of college. I liked it. I felt a closeness to her that I never had with anyone on other trips. Eventually, Jess and Jack came back.
Jess asked, “Everything OK?”
“Great, Dan. Jess is so cool. She’s like,” and she smiled at me, “a really cool older sister and she has great taste.”
Jess smiled and put her arm around me. “She is and she does.”
Jack groaned. “How much more did you cost me, Ms. Silverman?” Nikki swatted him on the arm.
I smiled. “Oh, you wouldn’t want to retire anyway. You’d get bored. You should be thanking me.” Nikki and I moved onto bridesmaid’s dresses. I looked at Jess, who just smiled and shook her head. After a while, Nikki and Jack went to get lunch. She left her magazines.
I looked at Jess and said, “What was that all about?”
“What was what all about?”
“When I was talking to Nikki, you kept looking at me. When I talked about your dress, your contacts got itchy? Um, did you get contacts and not tell me?”
She smiled, “I was just remembering our wedding day. It was the best day of my life.”
“Mine too,” I said, taking her hand.
She reached over me and grabbed one of the magazines and started flipping pages. She stopped on one and handed it to me, “This one?”
“This one what?”
“This is your wedding dress, isn’t it?” It had a lace bodice with spaghetti straps and a tulle skirt. The model was wearing flowers in her hair. “This is the dress you would’ve worn, if we were always this, isn’t it?”
I started to tear up and nodded. “I’m sorry.”
She looked at me, “What are you sorry for?”
“That I was looking at dresses and thinking about it. I feel like I’m taking away your day from you.”
She looked at me and smiled, “You’re not taking anything from me. We both had that day and we’ll always have it. I’m just sorry you never got your day and that I never got the chance to see you come down the aisle in that dress with your daddy,” she said, stretching that out. I was glad. I needed the teasing to keep from crying.
“Stop. How did you know?”
“Please. That dress is so you, it practically says, ‘Jessica’ on it. That’s you. You’re the girl in the lace and the tulle with the flowers in her hair.” I looked at her and raised an eyebrow. “The hopeless romantic and the cynical lawyer. The girl who loves babies and can talk about the 3-4 defense like a sportswriter. The princess and the politician. You are the most amazing person I know. You can do anything and I love you,” she said, leaning over and giving me a kiss.
I smiled and decided to distract myself by going back to my book. “Hi, Jessica,” I heard Ellen say, as she sat down on Nikki’s chair. She picked up one of the magazines. “Getting married?”
“Oh, hi Ellen. No, those are Nikki, Jack Todd’s daughter’s.”
“I figured,” she said laughing. She looked at the Kindle. “So, what are you reading?”
“Underground Railroad. By Colson Whitehead.”
“Really? That’s so funny. Emily and I just started that. She picked it.”
“That’s so cool that you two read together.” I thought about it. OK, maybe you won’t have basketball, but you can read together. I hoped Emma liked reading. “That’s great that you share that.”
She smiled, “We always have. Harry Potter when she was little. She picked this one. I like that we have this. They get older and they develop their own lives. I only have her for a few more years before she goes off to college. I’m glad she does this for me…” and she started to tear up. I reached over and gave a her a little hug.
“Sorry, that was forward of me,” I said.
She smiled, “Not at all,” she said, picking up my Kindle and going to the home screen. “Nice choices. Beauty and brains.” I blushed. “‘City on Fire?’ What did you think?”
“I wrote a big important, capital B, capital I, novel, wanna see? Did you read it?”
“Yeah, meh. Plus, I grew up in the 1970s. Too many historical errors. That drives me nuts.”
Jess moaned, “Oh great, Jessa. You’ve found another one.”
Ellen smiled and said, “Who asked you?” She turned to me and said, “Give me an example.”
“Like there’s a scene where a cop talks about his Fraternal Order of Police pension. New York is PBA. Everyone in New York knows that and it’s like, ‘you got two million dollars as an advance and you can’t fact-check?”
She started laughing, “To me, it was when they had the trust fund wife doing yoga. No one did yoga in the 70s. Or drank box wine. I drove Bruce crazy complaining. He just kept saying…”
Jess piped in, “How’s the story?”
Ellen laughed. “I already said no one asked you. Go get me a diet Coke so I can talk to your wife without commentary.” Jess got up, bowed and said, “One diet coke, ma’am, very good,” in an indeterminate, yet still bad, accent.
She started looking at the rest. “The Nix. Brief History of Seven Killings. I liked that. If you can make me care about Jamaican politics and the killing of Bob Marley and drug dealers, you’ve done a good job. White Trash?” she said quizzically.
“It’s about class in America. All the Scots-Irish who were basically brought here as indentured servants and the whole myth of upward mobility and…ok, I’m babbling.”
She smiled. “No, you aren’t. You’re explaining it. I like that. You have the energy after work to read that? I’m impressed.”
“It’s a slow go, if that makes it better.” She laughed and then grimaced. “Oh, look, here comes Bonnie and Clyde,” she said, under her breath. “Hi Bonnie, hi Cindy, what’s up?”
“Oh, we saw you two talking and figured we’d come over to say hi. Jessica, why didn’t you sit with us? We need to catch up,” she said sweetly. I felt like I was going into diabetic shock.
Ellen patted the chair and said, “Come sit down.” She picked up my Kindle. “Jess and I were just discussing David Foster Wallace. I said that I liked his essays but found his novels a little too long and self-involved. Jess said that, while she appreciated the essays, she found him to be the worthy heir to Pynchon. Although, a strong case can be made for DeLillo. I mean read “Infinite Jest” next to “Underworld.”” Bonnie looked dumbfounded. “What are your thoughts?” Damn, Ellen was good.
“I, uh,” Bonnie stammered.
“What are you reading these days, Bonnie? Cindy?” Ellen said.
“I really don’t have the time to read,” Bonnie mumbled, “with the kids and all. I’m busy with my church too. Excuse us,” she said, walking away.
She turned to me and said mockingly, “I’m busy with my church… She’s always hovering around me. She drives me crazy. I figured that would drive her away. Do you think she even knows who David Foster Wallace is?”
I thought about saying something to show I agreed, but figured that could just make me look bad. Instead, I just smiled and went with, “She does her thing.” I added, for a little jab, “Whatever that thing is.” Ellen gave me a little grin. “I do mine. I’m just having a good time.” I figured that was anodyne enough.
She laughed, “That’s what it’s about.” Over my shoulder, I could feel Bonnie and Cindy seething and felt a little better. Hey, I’m not perfect.
Jess came back with the diet Coke and said, “Your drink, madam.”
Ellen laughed and said, “Why thank you, Daniel. I had a lovely conversation with your wife and now unfortunately I have to find Bruce. We will continue this later, Jessica,” she said, giving me a kiss. This time, I believed her.
“I saw Bonnie and Cindy come over and leave. What happened?”
I laughed. “So, they come over and pretend like they didn’t freeze me out and Ellen starts asking them their opinion on David Foster Wallace and they just run. She is good.”
“Wow. She really seems to like you.”
“You think?”
“I haven’t seen her sit down next to anyone else for that long,” she said, “Do you want to get lunch?”
“How about instead you take me upstairs and fuck me silly and we make a baby?” I said into her ear, finishing up with a little bite. I didn’t care who saw.
“Or we could do that,” she said, taking my hand.
We got to the door and she picked me up in her arms. “Hey, what are you doing?” I giggled. I liked this feeling. Jess fumbled for the key card and unlocked the door. She untied my top and started kissing my neck and earlobes.
“Oh, g-d,” I moaned. “Stop teasing me.” She didn’t stop. I could feel her erection brush up against my ass. She threw me onto the bed and started biting my nipples. I was getting so wet and wanted her in the worst way.
She took off my bikini bottom and rolled me over. “You’ve been a bad girl,” she said, swatting me.
“Not today,” I said, “Not now. Later. Now, just make love to me.” It sounded cheesy as hell but I meant it. We were making our baby and I didn’t want my weird kinks involved. We could save that for another time. Jess proceeded to make love to me. I had an orgasm about 33% of the time which, I had read, was not at all unusual. What can I say? Once I bought a car, I read the owner’s manual. But, today I did. I don’t know if it was the beach or the bikini or the baby or just the love I was feeling, but I did. We finished up and I laid with my legs up and my butt resting on a pillow. I didn’t want any of Jess’ sperm to leak out and I had read somewhere that, to increase your chances of conception, you should lay there for 20 minutes or so. “Wow,” I smiled. “That was…wow. That was amazing. Here’s hoping.”
Jess smiled, “I meant it. You are the most amazing person I’ve ever known. I love you so much. Do you feel any different?”
“I’m feeling pretty wiped, but in a good way.”
“No, I mean like a switch flipped or something.”
I thought about it. “No. You?”
She smiled, “No,” and then said, “Arania Exumai!” and waved her hands.
I laughed, “What the hell are you doing?”
She said, “I thought maybe, if I said a spell, something would change.”
“You’re crazy. And I think you just got rid of spiders.”
“Cacio Pepe!”
“Now, you summoned pasta with parmesan and pepper. Stop. I think this is it. No flashes of light or anything. Just you and me,” I said, with a smile. “And hopefully,” and I knocked on a table. “Baby makes three.”
She smiled, “I love you,” she said, running her fingers along my stomach.
“I love you too.” I did. I loved my husband. We were husband and wife now. And, hopefully, in nine months, daddy and mommy.
We laid there for a while and then got dressed. “Yoga pants or another bikini?” I felt pretty and wanted to look pretty.
She smiled, “I’ll never say no to a bikini, but go with the yoga pants. You can always change again. Mommy.” She was teasing but I liked the way it sounded. ‘I’m Jessica, I’m Emma’s mommy.’ I put on a yoga pants, flip flops and a spaghetti strap tank top. I put my hair in a ponytail.
“G-d, you look adorable,” Jess said.
“Adorable?” I knew what she meant. I looked girly. Feminine. And I was.
“Yes, adorable. With your ponytail and your pink toes. You’re just so cute. If I was you and you weren’t me, I’d hate you.”
That snapped me back for a second. “You’re OK with all of this, right?”
She kissed me. “Absolutely. Sorry, I forgot who I was dealing with. I’m not OK. I’m great. You and me,” and then she spat three times, “and baby makes three. We’re not Dan and Jessica. We’re us.”
We went back downstairs and went to get lunch. As we were walking, Cindy bumped into me, accidentally on purpose. “Oops, sorry, Jessica,” she said, with a smile.
I wanted to punch her but that wouldn’t be positive. “It’s OK, Cindy. I really enjoyed speaking with you before. Your opinions on De Lillo were really on point.” Jess looked at me. She always said I was an intellectual snob and I was, sometimes, OK most times. But, sometimes I was right. Cindy looked like she wanted to say something then walked away.
Jess looked at me and said, “Do I want to know what that was about?”
“It was nothing. And even if was something then, it’s nothing now. It’s just you and me,” I said, giving her a kiss on the cheek. I stood on tiptoes even though it wasn’t necessary. It just made me feel good. We sat on the patio and the sun shone and the ocean breeze blew on face. I felt stray hairs tickle my cheeks. I pushed around my salad with my fork, taking bites here and there. I drank my decaf iced tea. I watched Jess wolf down her chicken sandwich. I pictured sperm swimming up into my uterus which was admittedly weird. All seemed right with the world. We just sat there and enjoyed each other, holding hands. Normally, I can’t sit still or I need to have something – a book, my phone, a TV – to distract me. Now, I didn’t need anything. I was fine, nothing could distract me, except:
“Hey Dan, hey Jess!” Guess who? If you guessed Becca and Kristy, you’d be right. There were thirty-six people on this trip and, of all the tables in all the world, she had to come to mine.
“Hey Becca,” Jess said brightly. “Hey Kristy.” I gave her a quick look. “What’s up? Having fun today?” Which I heard as, “Wait until the ball and chain goes to sleep today….”
Becca touched his arm and said, “We had a great time. Jess, you were so great out there. I mean you were really going for it. Wasn’t she great, Dan?” And she touched his arm again. I almost ripped her arm off. I flinched slightly. Stupid positivity stopped me.
Jess smiled and gave me a wink. “She was amazing, all right,” and she put her arm around me. That’s right, bitch. He’s mine. My husband, who used to be my wife and I used to be her husband, is mine. I made a note to see if the welcome desk had anti-pyschotics.
“I just looked at the schedule and we’re in the same dinner group!” she said. “We’re going to Duffy’s. It’ll be so much fun.
“I can’t wait!” I said. Kristy gave me a sideways glance. Was I that obvious?
“See you guys later!” Becca said, touching us both on the shoulder.
She walked away and Jess turned to me, “What was that about?”
“What was what about?”
“What did Becca do to you?” Who did Becca do to you is the question.
I smiled, “I was nice. I wasn’t nice?”
“Whatever,” she said, pulling me close and giving me a quick kiss on the neck. I snuggled in and felt safe. I looked at Jess looking at me and I realized I was being irrational. Whatever was, was. We were here and we were happy. And Becca was not going to kill my mood. Or Kristy. We walked along the beach, hand in hand. We didn’t talk. We didn’t need to. I pictured us holding a little kid between us and going, “1-2-3, whee,” the way my parents used to. They’d lift me up and I’d feel like I was flying in space. It was the happiest, freest feeling I could imagine. As you get older, life brings you closer and closer to earth and I wanted to recapture that feeling of flying. I felt it today after we made love. I didn’t feel it in some “oh the earth moved” bad porn way. I felt it in the feelings of hope and love I had. We were going to have a baby, we were happy and I wasn’t going to let petty jealousy bring me to earth.
We went upstairs and took a nap. The shuttles for dinner left at 7 PM, so I set the alarm for 5:30. We passed out in each other’s arms. I only slept for an hour and a half but I had another dream. This time, it was our wedding day. I was in the dress. The lace and tulle dress we saw in the magazine. I had a garland of daisies in my hair and was carrying a bouquet of light pink roses. My dad teared up as he gave me a kiss and said, “I love you Jessica.” He took me down the aisle and gave me to Jess, who was smiling. Then, all of a sudden, I was holding hands with two kids, a boy and a girl, both about three years old. The girl was wearing a white lace dress and had flowers in her hair. She looked just like me. Like me as Dan but as a girl. The boy was in a white shirt and dark pants and looked like Jess. I leaned down and they both gave me a big kiss and said….and then I woke up. I laid back for a minute and tried to figure out what it meant. I couldn’t decide except that I felt very well rested for an hour and a half nap. I got up quietly, so as not to wake Jess. I was OK with the fact that it took me longer. It was right. I was the woman and she was the man.
I did all the usual – shower, shave, pluck, polish, makeup. While Jess showered and shaved, I got dressed. She came out of the shower, looked at me and said, “Wow!”
I smiled. “Do you like this?” I was wearing a sleeveless white macramé mini dress and 4” white wedge sandals. I spritzed some perfume into the air and walked into the cloud. I saw that in “Broadcast News.”
She put on a polo shirt and khakis and said, “You look amazing. Can you walk in those?”
I gave her a little strut, putting a little extra shake in my ass and then gave her a model turn. I had practiced. “Does that answer your question?”
“You amaze me. Every day,” she said, with a smile. “You do things…” and then she stopped herself. I knew what was coming was something like, “I never could.” And I didn’t care. I worked hard. I was sexy. More importantly, I was happy and this outfit made me feel happy. I was such a girl.
“I figured that I should get this in.” I knocked on wood. “Hopefully, soon, I’ll be too big for this dress.”
“I can’t wait. You will be the most gorgeous pregnant woman ever. With your big baby bump,” she said, rubbing my stomach. I couldn’t wait. I had forgotten how tired Sammy was.
We went downstairs and met the shuttle. Each group had twelve people. We had Courtney and Mark. Rick and Claudia. Ashley and her wife Debra. Another couple that I didn’t know. And Becca. And Kristy. Kristy was wearing a blue dress that came to 3” above her knees. On another woman, it wouldn’t have merited a second glance. On Kristy, it looked phenomenal. That sound you heard? Five wives smacking five husbands and glaring at them. It’s funny. Becca was, other than being the bitch who slept with Jess, a very pretty woman. 5’6”. Blonde. Blue eyed. Athletic. In any other setting, she’d be the slap catalyst. But, next to Kristy, she was lost. I wonder if she was Kristy’s wingman, forever taking seconds. I almost felt bad for her.
She came over and said, “Ohmigod, Jess. You look amazing!”
I smiled, “Thanks, Becca. You look really good too,” I said, with forced sincerity that I hoped wasn’t too obvious. Courtney came over.
“Hey Courtney,” I said, “I’m so glad you were able to make this happen,” and I kissed her on the cheek.
She smiled, “Me too.” She looked me up and down and said, “OK, we need to get you pregnant. This is not fair,” she said, with a smile. I took it as a compliment and wanted to say, “From your mouth to G-d’s ears.” Becca stood by me, waiting for the introduction. You can wait, I thought.
“Oh, please, you look phenomenal. I want you to meet someone,” and I walked her over to Ashley and Debra. “Courtney Turner, meet Ashley Bonds. Ashley, Courtney.” I pointedly didn’t mention their husbands. Becca gave a little cough. “Oh, and this is Becca Romano, she’s the DM for Idaho. Ashley is a pre-school teacher. I know you don’t want to talk about work probably but Courtney was telling me all about early intervention and I figured that you two would hit it off.” I positioned myself so that Becca was on the outside of the conversation. I had set enough picks in my time to know how to do it without getting called for the foul. She walked off and went to talk to Julie. And Jess. I debated going over but decided that Julie’s presence would be enough.
I went over and introduced myself to the new couple. “Hi, I’m Jessica Silverman,” I said, sticking out my hand.
The husband said, “Dan’s wife?” OK, sure. Dan’s wife. Nothing else. “I’m Tim Weatherfield and this is my wife Renee.” They were African-American, not that it matters. Tim was about 6’3”, 200 lbs. Light skinned with brown eyes. He was a good looking guy. Renee was 5’10”, 145 lbs. and medium skinned. She was absolutely gorgeous. When I was Dan, she would’ve been my object of lust. Now, she was just another woman. I felt better though. I thought she was hotter than Kristy, although I may have been in the minority.
Jess walked over and said, “Tim, how have you been? I haven’t seen you in…” Please don’t say Chicago. “forever. Since San Francisco.” Thank g-d.
Renee looked at me and said, with a smile, “Jessica! I haven’t seen you since…ever!” I liked her. “So, what do you do?”
“I’m an attorney.”
She smiled, “Me too.” OK, I had a new friend. “What kind?”
“Civil litigation. Construction and real estate, mostly. You?”
“I work for the ACLU on their voting rights project.” OK, I was going to propose. I made a note to keep her in mind should I ever take up Larry and Debbie on their offer.
“OK, I want to be you when I grow up. You guys do great work. I would love to do that,” and we started talking. I heard Tim say, “So, you want to go play pool? They won’t miss us.” We wouldn’t.
Dinner was fun. Like I said, the informal dinner was always in some fun place, so you felt relaxed. They tried to keep people from the same team in different places so that you could meet new people. Duffy’s was a sports bar with a karaoke machine. The food wasn’t anything to write home about, but it was a fun place to hang out.
We had all finished eating. The women were talking while the guys went off to play “pop-a-shot” and pool.
Becca said, “Oh wow. Pop-a-shot. I love that game.”
I looked at her. “Me too. Want to play?” Pop-a-shot was my game. I had spent far too many hours at far too many bars playing pop-a-shot.
She smiled. “Sure. That’d be great!”
We walked up to the machines. “Excuse us, guys. We’d like to play. Hey, Becca, want to make it interesting?” Jess glared at me. I smiled and shrugged.
“OK,” she said, with a smile. “What?”
I looked at the karaoke machine and said, “Loser gets up and sings. Winner’s choice.”
She smiled and stuck out her hand, “Deal,” she said, meeting my gaze. We went to the machine and the buzzer sounded. I was hitting every shot. I should’ve stuck to my own game and not looked at hers, but I couldn’t stop myself. She was matching me shot for shot, but she wasn’t looking over. We kept going. Afterwards, Courtney told me that the looks in our eyes were scaring her. The buzzer sounded. 55-53. Becca. She stuck out her hand and said, “Good game.” Now, someone else might’ve said, ‘You don’t need to sing.’ But Becca was not that person. To be honest, neither was I but that wasn’t important now. Everyone was laughing, including Jess. They weren’t laughing at me but, to quote Homer Simpson, ‘towards me.’ I was mortified but I needed to be a good sport. I went up to the stage and picked up the mike. The music started. It was “Hit Me Baby One More Time” by Britney Spears. I turned red. When I was in camp, all the 12-year old girls would imitate this video. In retrospect, that was so many levels of wrong. I could discuss the hyper-sexualization of young girls by another young girl but not now. Now, I had to start singing. I started mumbling, “My loneliness is killing me…”
“Louder,” Tim shouted.
I decided to lean into it. I started singing, almost in rhythm and with a glancing nod to pitch. I did the dance moves. Everyone was whooping and cheering. I was utterly mortified and absolutely enjoying myself. I would never have done this as Dan. Towards the end, Jess shouted, “Big finish.”
“Keep it up, big mouth, and that’ll be the only big finish you get tonight,” I sang, in sort of key. That got me a cheer. I finished up and Becca was waiting and laughing. To her credit, she got up on stage and took the mike. She did maybe the worst version of “Oops, I Did It Again” known to mankind. I hated her guts but respected them at the same time. I congratulated her after and was almost OK, until she went over to Jess, touched his shoulder and said, “Jessica is amazing.” I got pissed and froze her out again. I hoped I wasn’t obvious.
We got back to the hotel and some of the people headed to the bar. Jess looked at me and said, “Do you want to get a drink?”
I smiled and touched my stomach, “I don’t think I should. Besides, I’m kind of tired. It’s been a long day and you have golf tomorrow and I have the trip…”
“Oh, boy, Barbie time. Sorry, I know you don’t like that term.”
We went up to the room and I took off my dress and shoes and put on a pink nightie. I was in a pink mood. “My feet hurt,” I said, putting my feet in Jess’ lap. She started to rub them. “You’re really good at this,” I said.
She smiled, “I always was. You just never liked it. You were amazing tonight. Well, I mean your singing kind of sucks but I can’t believe the way you got up there. That’s not you or me. What happened?”
I thought about it. “I don’t know. I guess I just figured why not. We were all having fun. It was a silly bet. Did I look ridiculous?”
She smiled and kissed me, “Not at all. Everyone loved it. I had no idea you could move like that. How did you know all those moves?”
“I watched that video a lot. I mean for different reasons, but still,” and I got up and started doing them. “Does this really bother you?” She grabbed me by the waist and pulled me down. You fill in the rest.
The next morning, Jess got up around 7:00. The first round of golfers had an 8:30 shuttle to the course and she wanted to get breakfast first. I wasn’t planning on getting up but, now that I had, figured that I’d hit the gym.
I was washing my face, when Jess came in. “Are you sure you don’t mind this? I mean you won’t miss golf? I know you always liked playing.”
I thought about it. I missed playing the top courses but I wouldn’t miss the people. I wouldn’t miss the bro-iness of it. The false camaraderie. I wasn’t a Stone person and I wasn’t a jock, at least not like these guys. To be honest, when I played with my friends, it was like when you were a kid and you and your friends would go ride bikes. You’d have races and egg each other on to do tricks, but that wasn’t it. It was about hanging out. These golf trips were never hanging out. “Not really,” I said. “Will you miss the trip?”
She laughed. “Uh, on a scale of 1 to 10, negative -7. Just be careful. Be ready for sugar on top of vinegar.” I thought about that. She’s her. I’m me. I’ll just do my thing. I have Jane. I have Renee. I have Courtney. Which is more than she had. OK, that was bitchy, I thought. Today was positivity. We’re happy. We’re in a beautiful place. Maybe we made a baby. Positivity.
“I’m sure I’ll be fine,” I said.
We went downstairs. I gave her a kiss and said, “Just remember. Your brain. My body.” It felt strange to say that. With every day, it seemed more and more unfathomable that that was my body. This was my body and that was hers. I followed up with, “Just play your game. The goal is the hole.” I smiled and whispered, “The goal is always the hole…”
She laughed and said, “Oh g-d, I hate you. I love you but I hate you.” I laughed and gave her a kiss and walked towards the gym. As I walking, I ran into Julie and Will.
Julie smiled, “Not playing today?” She was dressed in a polo shirt and golf skirt. She looked cute.
“Nah, I’m not up for it. Plus, I actually want to go to the museum. There’s an exhibit I want to see.”
She smiled and said to Will, “Go in, honey. Get us a table. I need to talk to Jessica for a second. Women stuff.” He ran off. If you want to end a conversation with a guy, say “Women Stuff.” Or “cramps.”
I looked at Julie and said, “What’s up?”
She looked at me and said, “Let’s walk over here. Away from everybody.”
I was nervous. “Is everything OK?
She took a deep breath. “We’re friends, right?”
We were as friends as two people who saw each other every so often could be, but sure. “Of course.”
“OK. As a friend, why are you giving my DM the stink eye?” Becca was in Julie’s territory. I had never her describe someone that way.
“What are you talking about?” I knew what she was talking about. I didn’t think she noticed.
“You know what I am talking about. Why are you freezing out Becca? She’s been nothing but nice.” I started to say something but she held up her hand. “I always told everyone that you were cool. You worked. You weren’t one of THOSE wives. But, she tells me that every time she touches Dan, you lose it. She said that she mentioned Chicago and…” She froze.
I liked Julie. I could see that she was torn. She wanted to tell me as a friend but, if I didn’t know, she’d hurt me worse. I wasn’t going to let her twist like that. “I know about Chicago, Julie. It’s OK. I mean it’s not, but you don’t have to hide it from me.”
She came over and hugged me. “I’m so sorry Jess. I should’ve known better. You’re not a bitch like that.”
I decided to make her feel better. “Oh, I am a bitch, Julie. Just not like that.”
She laughed. “Oh g-d, I should’ve figured it out. But it was not Becca.”
“You promise?”
“Absolutely. I swear on my life. It was not her,” she said, looking upset.
“Is she here?” I needed to know.
“No, absolutely not. If she was here, I’d tell you.”
“Who was she? Was she from the company?”
“No. She was just some dumb slut from some office supply company that was having a meeting at the hotel.”
I took a deep breath. “Was she pretty?”
She looked at me. “Why go there?”
I sighed, “Because I need to know. I shouldn’t, but I do.”
“She was a set of tits, which is always what they go for.” I was surprised at how harsh she was. Not wrong, although I was a leg man, just harsh. “Good body. Face like Neil Harper. Remember him? Put Neil’s face on a set of Ds and that was her.”
I started giggling. “Oh G-d. I don’t know if I feel better or worse now.”
She giggled with me. “I tried to warn you. But, it was not Becca. She’s a toucher. She touches everyone, even me. I get it though. If it happened to me and some blonde at Dish did that to Will, I’d want to rip her arms off, no matter who she was. Or wasn’t.”
“So, you don’t think I’m a crazy bitch anymore?”
“Well, you never tell a crazy bitch she’s crazy…no, I don’t,” she said, giving me a hug. “Although,” and she started singing, “Hit Me Baby One More Time.”
I blushed. “So how many people know about that?”
“How many people are in this hotel?” I buried my face in my hands. She laughed, “Everyone thought it was cool. I’m impressed that you got up there.”
I took a deep breath. “A bet’s a bet. Thanks. One more question. Has he done it before?”
Without missing a beat, she said, “No. Absolutely not. I have to tell you that, when he did it, we were shocked. He was one of the good ones, we thought. I don’t know what got into him. What happened?”
I couldn’t explain it and even if I could, I wouldn’t. These were Jess’ co-workers. I owed her that much and decided to put positivity into play. “It’s not important. That’s all I needed to know.” Then I paused, “so who are the bad ones?” I said, with a grin.
She laughed. “Now, I don’t know if I should tell you. Oh wait, I need a lawyer and lookit, here’s one. You’re hired so now you can’t tell anyone. Let’s just say his wife’s name sounds like Donnie…”
“Really, Mr. Holier than Thou? We’re very busy at church. I mean maybe I shouldn’t say anything because I’m not Christian like them…”
Julie laughed, “Christian, from” and she moved her hand from the waist up. She laughed and said, “Consider that my present to you,” and she walked back to the dining room. It seemed like we talked forever but it was less than five minutes. Time stands still when you feel like an idiot.
I went into the gym and Becca was stretching. If someone wrote that in a story, I’d call it clichéd, but it happened. I decided to play this as Dan, not Jessica. I wasn’t going to play games. I was going to man up, well as much as a woman in yoga pants and a ponytail could.
She saw me, “Oh hi Jessica,” she said, coldly. I deserved that.
“I can go for a run, if you want. You were here first,” I said.
“It’s a free country.”
I looked at her and said, “I am sorry. I acted like a bitch and I am sorry. I apologize absolutely and completely. I hope that you’ll forgive me but, if you won’t, I get that,” and I headed out for a run. “Feel free to tell everyone I’m crazy.”
She looked at me and said flatly. “Wait. Do you mean that or did Julie put you up to this?”
“I mean it. If I didn’t mean it, I would’ve walked away when I came in. I am 100% unequivocally sorry for being a bitch to you.”
She looked at me. “Why? What did I do to you?”
I was probably making a huge mistake but I needed to unburden myself. “You didn’t do anything. Let’s just leave it as did you ever get something in your head and that’s all that matters? Like, you should know better but you can’t. Sorry, that makes no sense.”
She smiled knowingly, like she wanted to say something but wouldn’t. “I get it. Like you’re pissed at someone and someone else who didn’t do anything,” and she smiled, “does something completely innocent and you take it out on her. Because you’re crazy.”
I smiled and looked at the floor, then looked her in the eye. “I deserve that,” I said. I waved my hands towards me. “Keep ‘em coming.”
She laughed. “No, that’s enough. Julie said you were one of the good ones. I trust her. If she says you’re OK, you’re OK.”
“Thanks,” I said. “Can we start over, Becca Romano from Idaho?” I felt like an idiot but, at the same time, the weight came off me. The paranoia went away. I truly didn’t care what people said.
She laughed, “Chicago. I’m from Chicago. How many Romanos do you think live in Idaho?”
I laughed. “OK, Becca Romano from Chicago. Nice to meet you,” I stuck out my hand.
She gave me a hug. “I’m a hugger, sorry.” I got it now.
I hugged her back and laughed. “And I thought I could play pop-a-shot. You are a pop-a-shot hustler.”
She smiled. “Four brothers and we owned a Dairy Queen with a machine. That’s why I sang, ‘Oops, I Did It Again.’ Inside joke with Kristy.”
I laughed. “You bitch. And I mean that as a compliment.”
She smiled, “I take that as high praise and thank you.” We worked out and we talked. She and Kristy were roommates from college, at the University of Illinois. She didn’t have a boyfriend or, “at least no one I’m taking on a trip with my co-workers.” She said that Kristy wanted to confront me but that she wouldn’t let her. She asked me what it was like to live in New York. We talked about being an attorney. While we were finishing up, she said that she was coming in for training in May and I asked if she would let me show her around. I felt that I owed that to her, plus she was a fun person. I could see why people wanted to hang out with her.
As we were walking out, she said, “I know what you all think about us. You think we’re all sluts that want to sleep with your husbands. We don’t or at least I don’t.”
I said, “I don’t think you do. And you know what, if a married guy sleeps with someone, it’s on him and only on him. He made the vow, not you. Unless you know me, it’s not between you and me. It’s between him and me.”
She looked at me, “Well, yeah, you’re in the minority around here. I’ve gotten enough glares to last me a lifetime and Kristy gets it worse and she doesn’t even work here.”
I laughed, “Well, I am not giving you any glares. Not anymore. Kristy is just getting it because she’s gorgeous. Please tell me she’s a bitch or stupid.” I couldn’t believe I said that.
She laughed. “Nope. Sorry. She’s doing a fellowship in pediatric oncology at Northwestern and she’s the nicest person you’ve ever met. Once you stop hating her, you really like her.” I moaned and she said, “I’ll see you on the bus,” she said. She couldn’t golf because she had hurt her rotator cuff kayaking. She said her grandmother said, “You deserve it. Whoever heard of an Italian in a kayak?”
I looked at her, “Are we OK?”
She smiled and hugged me, “We’re good. Just so you know, no offense, but I don’t sleep with married guys or Jewish guys. Nothing personal, but they have too many mommy issues.” More than you know, Becca. More than you know.
I went up to the room, showered and changed. I decided on a tangerine colored top and a short blue and orange print skirt and blue leather sandals. I sprayed on some “Daisy Dream.” I had been thinking about daisies since the dream. To keep the feeling, I overpaid in the gift shop for a small bottle. I put on my makeup, grabbed my purse and went downstairs.
Everyone was milling about the lobby. I saw Jane standing by herself. “Hey Jane, what’s up? How was dinner?”
“Oh great,” she said, sarcastically. “We got John and Bonnie. They made this big show of saying grace. Over chicken wings. Jesus loves his wings.” I smiled and debated telling her. I figured I’d save it for when Bonnie was being a bitch. That was a when, not an if. She looked at me and smiled, “My loneliness is killing me,” she sang.
“Well, I figured I’d humiliate myself at some point…”
She laughed, “I’m just sorry I missed it. But, who are you and what have you done with my friend?”
“Stop it.” I saw Renee come in. “Come over here. You have to meet Renee. Renee Weatherfield, Jane Manion. Jane, Renee. Renee, Jane is one of us. For the company. Jane, Renee is a real lawyer. She works for the ACLU voting rights project,” I babbled. They both smiled and shook hands and started talking to each other. I saw Courtney come in and went over. She was with Ashley and Claudia. I said hello to everyone and brought them over to Jane and Renee. It felt good to have a group of friends, or at least people I knew.
Ellen stood up in front of the group and said, “Once again, everyone, it’s great to have all of you here. This trip wouldn’t be possible without all of you, both in and out of the company. The plan is to spend a few hours at the museum, get lunch and then go to Worth Avenue. Is everybody ready?” Everyone cheered, including me which got a smile from Jane, and we headed to the bus. It felt like a field trip from school.
We went to get on the bus. Ellen was up front with the travel rep, discussing plans. Bonnie and her crew came on the bus and plopped down right next to Ellen, who winced. I came on and Cindy said, “These seats are taken. Sorry, Jessica.”
Jane gave her a stare. Renee just smiled and shook her head. I sweetly said, “That’s OK, Cindy. We’ll sit back here.” As I walking by, Bonnie looked at me and said, “By the way, Jessica, that’s a really pretty shirt. I wouldn’t have gone with tangerine with your coloring but it’s a pretty shirt.” Her crew laughed. I suddenly felt self-conscious. I thought I looked cute. I looked at my reflection in the window. I looked cute. Why was I letting her get to me?
I sat down next to Jane. “Don’t listen to her. You look good.” I did. I wasn’t Jess. I was me. I mean I was Jessica, but I wasn’t Jess. I liked what I wore. She’s just a bitch. I put it out of my head as best as I could, and talked to everyone. Everyone seemed to get along. It turned out that Ashley and Renee had both gone to George Washington University, so they were sharing D.C. stories. Claudia, Courtney and Jane were all discussing “Crazy Ex-Girlfriend,” which I tried to watch, but couldn’t. I could wear a dress or a bikini, but some things just went too far. I sat down next to Denice and Gabriela, a manager from San Antonio and talked to them.
We arrived at the museum and were met by the docent, who showed us around. It really was like a field trip. A third of the group looked bored. Another third looked like they were going to ditch to go buy fake i.d.s and beer and the last third, which included me and Ellen, were actually interested. Bonnie looked like she wanted to shoot herself but was not going to leave me with Ellen. Before going to the main exhibit, the docent walked us through the galleries. I would have been happy to spend all day here if they let me. Even as Dan, I would’ve preferred this to golf. I could never have gone then though, but here I could enjoy it. The first painting we saw was a Jackson Pollock called “Night Mist.”
“Now, how many of you know who Jackson Pollock is?” the docent said. About half the group raised its hands. “Now most people think of his drip paintings when they think of him, but this is from his Surrealist period in 1945.”
I moved closer. “I totally get that,” I said. “Like you can see this sort of Picasso thing going on with the forms especially this thing over here,” I said, pointing at the left side. “But, he’s definitely moving towards the drips here.” I could feel everyone staring at me.
The docent smiled, “You know your Pollock.”
I suddenly felt very awkward. No one wants to be the teacher’s pet, but I liked art. I could feel some of the women sneering at me, which strengthened my resolve. I was a mess. “I mean, have you ever seen his ‘Guardians of the Secret?’” I pulled it up on my phone, which admittedly is not how to view art but you make do. “See, like he’s definitely got more discrete forms in there, like this shark. And you wouldn’t look at this and think he could get to,” and I pulled up one of the drip paintings, “this.” Some of the women started to look at my phone. “But,” I said, walking towards the painting, “you totally get how this goes to this goes to this.”
The docent smiled. “Maybe we should switch places.”
“Sorry,” I mumbled, as we headed to the next room. I held back a little and walked with Renee and Jane. They both looked at me and smiled. I felt incredibly self-conscious and I didn’t know why.
We walked through the Chinese art exhibit which, to be honest, bored me. I appreciated the brushwork but it left me cold. I felt that way about prog rock. I appreciated the technical musicianship but the songs had no warmth. Eventually, we got to the main exhibit, Lichtenstein and Monet. It was primarily Lichtenstein’s study of Monet’s paintings of the gardens at Giverny, but there was a sample of Monet to compare it to, as well as some of Lichtenstein’s more typical works. The natives were getting restless, milling about and chatting, and the docent was feeling it. I saw one painting, “Water Lillies with Cloud,” and went over. The docent, Ellen and a few of the other women came over. “Huh,” I said. “It totally makes sense.”
The docent smiled, “What are you seeing?”
“Well, look at it. It’s like he’s clearly trying to do the water lilies but it’s got that comic strip feeling, like with the Ben Day dots.” I had wanted to be a cartoonist when I was little. I had learned that the little dots in a comic strip were called Ben Day dots. “And these clouds and these trails down, it’s a total link between this and those paintings he did of the fighter pilots.” Dan was coming to the surface. I sounded like a total geek but I felt pretty happy, like at least the best part of me was still there. The people around me were at least feigning interest so I kept going. “Like look at this one.” It was a triptych of a plane called ‘As I Opened Fire.’ I turned to the docent and said, “You’re the expert. Am I making any sense?”
She laughed, “I didn’t make the link originally but I see it now. You clearly like Lichtenstein.”
“Definitely,” I said, moving my hands. Apparently, I had started talking with my hands. “I have a print of “Whaam,” in my office that we bought at the Tate.” I could see Bonnie face wrinkle up. Not that she knew what the Tate was. Yup, I was a snob.
The docent smiled. “Whaam? You don’t strike me as a fighter plane kind of girl. I would’ve guessed one of the Kiss series or Masterpiece.” OK, that was sexist. Just because I’m a girl doesn’t mean I can’t like planes. Also, I used to be a guy. There’s that too.
I smiled. “Some days you want a kiss. Some days, you want to shoot someone down.” Everyone laughed.
Ellen came over. “I’m sure you two could talk for hours, but unfortunately we have to go.” I wasn’t sure what that meant.
I said, “Well, thank you for the tour. I really appreciated it. I learned a lot.”
“So did I and you’re welcome.” She turned to Ellen and said, “Thank you. As I’m sure you can appreciate, sometimes big groups can get hard to manage but it was a pleasure showing you all around. It’s always nice,” and she touched my arm, “to have people who appreciate what we do here.”
I walked out and overheard Bonnie say, “I don’t understand why they make us do this. I mean who really wants to come here?” Then she looked at me and said, “Oh sorry, Jessica. I didn’t see you.”
A bunch of the women stood around, looking away but paying close attention. ‘You will not break me bitch,’ I thought. “Bonnie, if I told you that, by taking us to a cultural exhibition, the company was able to deduct a larger portion of the cost of the trip, would that make a difference?”
“Um,” she mumbled. “I didn’t know that,” she said.
“I mean, that if I told you that Section 1031 of the Internal Revenue Code would allow the company to deduct,” and I mimed like I was doing calculations, “35% of the total cost of all of us non-Stone people, you’d want to save the company money. Right? I mean, it’s the least we could so for Stone after everything they’ve done for us.” She grumbled and walked away. You aimed for the queen. You missed.
Claudia came over, laughing and said, “Are we exchanging the museum for another museum?”
“I’m sorry, what?” I said, sweetly. I knew what she meant. It was the only section of the tax code that I knew.
“Section 1031. A tax-free exchange of real estate. Lawyers should not do taxes,” she laughed.
I smiled. “I didn’t say the company could. I just asked IF it could, wouldn’t she want to do that? I mean IF I was 6 feet tall and blond, I would be a model,” and I kicked up my heel and walked towards the bus.
We went to a restaurant in Palm Beach. With a big enough group, it’s prix fixe and buffet style. We all sat at tables of eight. I sat with Renee, Denice, Courtney, Ashley, Jane and Claudia. I was eating my flank steak salad when Juliet, one of the wives from John Chapman’s district, came by and said, “Jessica, where do you put it? I mean, I just could simply not eat like that. It would just be everywhere on me.”
Jesus, don’t you people have independent thoughts. “Everybody has different metabolism,” and I turned back to my salad. I wasn’t getting into it with her.
“I mean, I would be careful if I were you. I mean you’ve done so well since Bermuda. I would hate to see you balloon up again.” I now knew what sugar on vinegar meant.
What happened next surprised the hell out of me. From behind her, I heard Becca say, “Well, SHE was in the gym with me at 7:00 AM today and she worked me into the ground.” I didn’t. We just did yoga and the treadmill. “Work hard, play hard, right, Jess?” I smiled. I owed her more than one. Juliet turned white.
I got up and whispered in her ear. “Thank you. You didn’t have to do that. I didn’t deserve it.”
She took my hand and pulled me close and sang, “Hit Me Baby, One More Time.” I had to stifle a giggle.
We went to Worth Avenue and thankfully broke into groups. Honestly, Worth Avenue did nothing for me. It’s a collection of uber-high end luxury stores, most of which they had in New York anyway. For the people who weren’t from New York, I guess it was fun. Anyway, I was just having fun walking with my friends, looking in the windows.
We were in Louis Vuitton and they were all looking at pocketbooks. No matter how long I had been this, I just couldn’t understand the appeal of pocketbooks. Clothes? I was a clothes horse. Shoes? I had, to my chagrin, developed a fondness for shoes. Those made me look good. But pocketbooks? They did nothing for me. Renee picked one up, looked at the price tag and said, “I have got to stop doing good. I need to do WELL,” and laughed.
Jane looked at a blue and black tote bag, looked at the price tag and said, “I’ll take this.”
I looked at the price tag. “$2500?”
She smiled, “Sean? Is that you?”
“Sorry, I don’t mean it that way.” She looked at me, as did Renee. I fumbled for words. “I just meant it’s not my thing.” All the women were looking at me. OK, I hit a nerve. “I mean I like clothes and shoes and…OK, I’ll shut up now.”
Courtney laughed. “For the first time, in history, Jessica is short of words. Someone mark this down.”
Denice helped up her phone. “I taped what you said for Dan. What’ll you pay me for it?” I laughed. I deserved this.
We walked past Tiffany’s and I looked in the window. There was a beautiful heart in the window. I don’t know why I liked it so much. It was just a delicate white gold heart but I liked it. I looked at it for a while, sighed and started to walk away. We all walked into Lilly Pulitzer and were flipping through the racks. Denice laughed and said, “There is nothing in here for a mother of five, especially with this shelf,” she said, patting her ass.
I was looking at the rack and I saw the perfect dress. It was white lace dress, with long sleeves and a lace up neckline. It fell to mid-thigh. I went into the dressing room and put it on. It looked perfect. I was going to wear it to dinner tonight. I was feeling great. I went out to show everyone. Courtney told me it looked beautiful. Denice, with a big grin, called me “skinny little white bitch.” Jane said, “Well, now, you’re making me want to go to the gym.” I was on a high. I was paying for it when I heard:
“You must be so happy Jessica. Now that you can shop in stores like this, I mean,” she tittered. “Maybe you will soon too, Jane.”
That was enough. I walked over to her. “That’s enough Bonnie. If you have a problem with me, you have a problem with me. I have no idea why you have a problem with me but I don’t care. You just lay off my friends, OK?” I didn’t know what I was going to do. I wasn’t going to hit her. I wouldn’t have hit her if I were Dan. I mean I wasn’t 22. I was 33 and this was Jess’ company. I just stood there.
“Oh, your friends. Aren’t you the social butterfly? Like Dan in Chicago.” With that went all of my positivity. I started to tear up. I took my bag and I left the store. I sat down on a bench and started bawling. I put my head in my hands and started bawling. People were looking at me. My makeup was a mess. I had put it out of my head and now that bitch put it back. It was October all over again. I had a pretty dress and a husband who cheated but now everyone knew. I was a freak.
Courtney came over. Renee, Jane, Ashley, Claudia and Denice were behind her. She sat down next to me. “Are you OK?”
“I’m fine,” I sobbed.
“Really, because you don’t seem fine,” she said with a small smile.
“OK, I’m not fine,” I sniffled. “I just…I can’t…I think I’ve had enough. I’m just going to walk back to the hotel. Please let the travel person know, so they’re not looking for me….” I started to walk back. I must have looked like a fright, but I didn’t care. I started walking.
Jane came up next to me. “I know you keep trying to get me in the gym, but these shoes suck. Come on.” I smiled.
Ashley came over. “If you’re not on the bus, she wins.” She was right.
Renee said, in the world’s most exaggerated accent, complete with the Maury Povich Show side-to-side head move, “You are NOT going to let that no-account bee-yotch win. I am NOT letting that happen,” which she followed up with, “Ow, my head hurts. What was I thinking? I never could do that move. See what you made me do?”
I started laughing. “Thank you. I appreciate it.”
Claudia took my hand. “Are you OK?”
I was. I had friends. I had put positivity out and it came back. Well, it sort of came back, mostly. But, I felt good. And no one asked about Chicago. I mean I’m sure they figured it out. It wasn’t that hard. All that was missing was someone pulling a mask off Bonnie and saying, “It was Old Man Whitaker who owned the campground!”
“How bad do I look?” I said.
Denice smiled. “Oh look, Starbucks! I bet they have a bathroom!” I laughed and went in. I freshened up my makeup and came out. I apologized to everyone.
“For what?”
“I made a scene back there and for crying.”
Claudia looked at me like I was nuts. “You didn’t make a scene. She did. I wanted to see you pull her hair though. That would have been really cool.” I laughed some more. It would have been. It would have backfired later. But it would be fun now. My phone buzzed. It was a text from Jess:
‘What did you say to Ellen?’
‘OMG,’ I had adapted to acronyms fairly easily. ‘I don’t think I said anything. Why? What’s wrong?’
We both had iPhones. I saw the three dots that showed she was typing for a while. Jess and I used to joke that, whenever I saw those dots for more than two seconds, I assumed I was in trouble. I wasn’t joking when I said it and I wasn’t joking now. I was getting nervous.
‘Nothing Bruce came over and said Ellen said, “We are having dinner with Jessica and Dan Thursday.” Thursday was when we usually had a free night. I used to joke that it was so everyone could debrief each other.
Next message: ‘When he said idk if that’s possible, she said, ‘make it possible.’ What did you say? ”
“Idk.” I really didn’t know but I felt better. I thought about everything, about this trip. None of this would have happened if I was me, the old me. I wouldn’t have been embarrassed. I wouldn’t have had to deal with grown women acting like Sarah’s friends. I wouldn’t have thought everyone was talking about me, because they wouldn’t have been. I would’ve been invisible. I would have had nodding acquaintances, a couple of people I knew but I wouldn’t have made friends. Maybe these weren’t my friends. Maybe we were just people thrown together on a trip but I was closer to them than I was to anyone else on any other trip, than Jess ever was either. Jess and I were closer. We were moving forward with life. My head hurt.
Lizzy Bennet, once again thank you!
Dan (now Jessa) and Jessica (now Dan) continue their trip to Palm Beach. Jessa tells Dan how she really feels. Then, they go to dinner with the boss and Jessa learns about playing the corporate game.
__________________________________________________________
Wednesday night was the couples’ dinner. As part of team building, they would pair you with another couple, not from your district (if you were sales) and not from headquarters (if you were like us). I suppose the idea was for everyone to get to know each other. As I said, when we were the old us, I’d end up in conversations about sports with the husband, if his wife was the Stone person. If the husband was the Stone person, Jess would have some awkward conversation with the wife then start talking business with him. If I was lucky, the wife worked and she and I could discuss that for a while. If not, we’d have some conversation where I’d ask about her children, she’d give some perfunctory answers and then we’d just sit and listen to Jess and the husband. I just hoped that she didn’t tell everyone else that I was weird.
This year was different. It wasn’t better. It was just different.
We were back in the room. We had stopped for a drink in the bar after we got back. I was drinking club soda, in the hopes that I was pregnant. I recognized that, even if I was, it was a zygote at this point, and I had read that one drink wouldn’t condemn Emma to a life of minimum wage jobs, but better safe than sorry. Jess took off her jacket. “You’re not going to be friends with everybody,” she said with a laugh. “As great as you are, there are just some people you won’t click with.” We had dinner with Steve and Gina Carlucci. Steve was a manager in the Tulsa office. They had two children. She didn’t work. I had spent the evening trying to engage her on everything, from her children to her hometown (Rochester) to the trip to whether her son was an Oklahoma City Thunder fan (he was, she didn’t know who his favorite player was). She was perfectly nice, just absolutely boring. Halfway through our appetizer, I debated whether it was rude for me to take out my phone.
“I tried, but she was soooo boring. My g-d, how does he stand it?” Steve was a perfectly nice guy. I could tell that his skill was not charming office managers, but earnestly working hard. He’d never have Bruce’s job – he lacked that charisma – but he’d be a serviceable lieutenant to someone. Jess came over and rubbed my shoulders. “Mmmm, that feels so good. Thank you.”
She kissed my neck. “Did I tell how you beautiful you looked tonight?”
I smiled, “You did, but you can tell me again.” It felt nice to be told. I thought about it, realized that I didn’t do it enough before and felt a little guilty and a little sad.
“You are gorgeous.” I was wearing the lace dress that I had bought at Lilly Pulitzer. Even with the circumstances that surrounded its purchase, I loved it. It loved the way it hung on me. I loved the way it showed off my legs and was flirty and sexy, but not showy. It was soft and pretty and made me happy. She put her arms around my waist. “You were the most beautiful woman there, Jessa.” I smiled and kissed her lightly on the lips, and gave her a half smile. “What?” she said.
“Nothing. Jessa,” I said, the half smile never leaving my lips.
She looked at me and smiled. “You’re not Jess. I was Jess and you’re you. You’re certainly not a Jessie. You’re my Jessa. If it bothers you, I’ll stop,” she said, unconvincingly.
“I was just curious,” I said. “It doesn’t bother me at all.” It didn’t bother me. To be honest, I liked it. It was something different, something pretty and soft and feminine. I would never let anyone else call me it. I wanted it to be something that she and I, and only she and I, shared.
“Good,” she said, with a smile. “When did you get that dress?”
“I bought it yesterday at Lilly Pulitzer.”
“You should shop there more,” she said.
I raised my eyebrow. “I should shop there more? Meaning?” I would never have said that to her. I liked my head remaining attached.
“Meaning,” she said, playing with the laces on the neckline, “that it suits you. Anthropologie,” she said, putting her hands under the dress and playing with my thighs, “suits you. I like you like this,” she said, kissing my neck, then pulling the dress over my head. I liked the way she did that; I would never have been that smooth. “You are romantic and sweet and…” She left off feminine, but that’s what she was thinking. It’s what I was thinking and I didn’t care. “You’re my Jessa. My princess Jessa. And my princess Jessa should always feel like a princess.” That made me feel very special and, to be frank, very strange. I liked my clothes. They were me, but it felt strange to have her say it. She had really become a man, a strong, confident man. “That doesn’t bother you, does it?”
I smiled shyly. “No. I know who I am. Does it bother you? Does it make you think about, you know?”
She smiled and pulled me down onto her lap. “No, Jessa, it doesn’t. You’re the same person I fell in love with, just different. Does me being like this bother you?”
I swung my legs over so I was straddling her lap. I looked into her eyes and said, “What do you think, Dan?” And it didn’t. She seemed so happy, so in control. All of her old issues were fading away and so were mine. We were happy. She was Dan and I was Jessa.
The next day, I got up early again while Jess slept. I looked at her sleeping form for a while, watching her chest go up and down. I was going to go downstairs and surprise her with coffee, but there was something calming about the way her chest rose and fell. Her arms were spread out. I was tempted to roll onto her arm and nestle myself against her naked chest; it made me feel loved and protected. I thought about it and realized that I liked that feeling as much as I liked being her protector before. I smiled and thought that’s what you’re supposed to as a couple, love and protect each other. Before, it was my turn and now it was hers, but really it was no one’s and everyone’s. I decided to just lay there for a while reading. I picked up my Kindle and downloaded the Times, but I’d keep alternating between reading and watching Jess sleep.
After about twenty minutes, Jess woke up and rolled over. “Hey beautiful, how long have you been up?” She said with a smile.
I leaned over and kissed her on the lips, morning breath be damned. “Twenty minutes.”
She got up and went to the bathroom, her erection leading the way. I knew it wasn’t me, which was confirmed when I heard the stream hitting the bowl. To her credit, she always aimed and always lifted the seat, which I had come to appreciate. While she was in the bathroom, I took off my nightie. She climbed back into bed with a huge grin. “This is a nice wake up call,” she said.
I smiled. “Maybe. But right now, I just want to cuddle. I want to feel your skin next to mine.”
She laughed. “You are such a girl,” she said, pulling me towards her. I could feel the heat coming off her chest against mine, and it felt good.
“I am,” I said, putting it out there, to no response but her smile, “but I always liked this. I always liked feeling your skin next to mine. It made feel, I don’t know, close to you.” I blushed. “Sorry if that sounds weird.”
She looked me in the eyes. “It doesn’t. I didn’t know that,” she said, sadly. “Now I feel bad. Why didn’t you ever say something?”
“I tried, but it felt weird,” I said, looking down. “I don’t mean to kill your mood. I just like it is all.”
She smiled. “You could never kill my mood, Jessa. I can’t make up for the past but we have the rest of our lives to do this.” She paused. “This does actually feel kinda nice.” She kissed me lightly on the lips. I looked up into her eyes and saw the eyes of my love. Whoever we were, I was in love and I felt happy. No, I felt content.
Thursday was an uneventful day. You could pick your own activity among a menu of choices. Some people went to the Everglades, some people did a Segway tour of downtown Palm Beach. We did a boat ride on the Intracoastal, which separates Palm Beach Island from West Palm Beach. You ride down and see the classic old mansions on Palm Beach on one side and the office towers of West Palm on the other. I sat in my deck chair, enjoying my club soda and watching the world go by. I talked to the other women and just relaxed. Every so often, I look over and see Jess standing with the guys, the other guys, talking and laughing. She’d look over, give me a wink and a smile and go back to what she was doing. I had never seen her so happy on a trip and knew we were in a good place.
We spent the afternoon by the pool and came back to the room around 5:00 PM; we were meeting Bruce and Ellen at 7:00 PM. We stood by our window and looked at the sun hang low in the sky, Jess’ arm around my waist. I thought about it and realized that we hadn’t really talked all that much this afternoon. We weren’t upset, or at least I wasn’t. Rather, I realized that, on every other trip, we each kept a steady stream of patter, expressing our own neuroses about how the trip was going and trying to assuage the other’s and I smiled.
“Penny for your thoughts,” she said, pulling me closer.
I smiled, “You know what I realized? We haven’t been doing post-game this trip.”
“Huh,” she said. “I hadn’t thought about that but you’re right. I didn’t even notice. Do you want to?”
I turned to face her, standing on my tiptoes to kiss her which, even now, could make me giggle. “No. Not at all. It’s more like having heartburn and waking up to find it gone.”
She laughed and kissed me. “Yup, the money your dad spent on that English degree was well spent.” I playfully swatted her. “I’m just teasing,” she said. “By the way, you look beautiful.” I was wearing a pink string bikini with a loop in between my breasts and one on each hip.
“You don’t have to say that every time,” I said, giggling. “I’m going to sleep with you.” I had no idea why today I felt so girly. I had heard an old wives’ tale that said that, if during your pregnancy, you were into girly things, it meant that you were having a girl. Two things worked against that. First, if I was pregnant, I was about three minutes pregnant. Second, I remembered that Laura became very girly during her pregnancy - and Tucker was now three. Maybe I was just losing my mind.
“I know, so that’s how you know I mean it,” she said, with a smile. “You seemed so much more at ease today. You just walked around…”
“Like every other woman?” I said. Jess blanched and I said, “I did, because I am. Plus, I realized the other day that no one thought twice about it. This is me, the girl in the bikini. I’m OK with it. Are you?” I paused, about to say, “even if we change back,” but I realized that that was not likely happening and, even if neither of us said it, neither of us wanted it.
She smiled, “I love you, whoever you are.” I felt like she wanted to say something more, like she liked this better but didn’t for fear of setting me off. What she didn’t realize was that I had moved past acceptance a while ago.
At 6:30, we went downstairs to get a cab to the restaurant. Bruce told Jess that we needed to go separately for “political reasons.” I would have suggested it even if he hadn’t; why give people something to talk about and, unlike 99% of what people thought people talked about, the VP having dinner with one other couple would do that.
We were early so we walked around the hotel for a little while. “I am soooo happy I bought that other dress yesterday,” I said. I was wearing a blue sheath with cutouts at the shoulder that fell about 3” above the knee, and a pair of 3” heels. “I mean I love the other dress, but that was for just us.” One night every trip they allowed you to have dinner by yourselves, if you wanted. We always joked it was for debriefing each other, although our dinners usually devolved into “Barbie-bashing.” I had brought a black sheath dress with a crossed neck and a low cut back and a knee length hem. I didn’t realize it but I was talking with my hands.
Jess smiled, “Just us?” She was wearing a charcoal gray suit and blue shirt, with no tie. She had gotten a little color which, combined with her weight loss, made her look incredibly handsome.
“Yes,” I said. “It was way too sexy for Bruce and Ellen.”
Jess laughed. “Too sexy? Boy, someone is full of herself.”
I put my hands on my hips. “Hey!” I said, embarrassed to be caught. “I didn’t mean it like that. I meant I just don’t want to look slutty or something,” not even pausing to think about how absurd this sentence would have sounded last year. “This one is much better, right?”
She smiled, “Ellen will love it. You all dress for each other anyway.” I let the comment hang. I never thought that I did that but I knew now that was wrong. I liked Ellen and didn’t want to give off the wrong impression.
We were walking hand in hand. “Do you ever miss it? Miss getting dressed up and stuff?”
She thought for a second and said, “Not anymore. I used to, but I’ve gotten used to it. I mean there’s a lot to be said for not having to think a lot. I mean it’s basically three or four colors of shirt, two colors of suit, stripe, solid, maybe window pane if I want to go on the edge,” she chuckled. “It makes life easy. You have to make all these choices - what length? What neckline? What color, what pattern? Is this too dressy, not dressy enough? What shoes? What accessories? Just thinking about it gives me a headache now. But, you totally get it. You never make the wrong choice. You always look perfect,” she said, giving me a kiss. “You’re better than I ever was, Jessa.” I let that last comment hang there. I was better but wasn’t ready to unpack (pardon the pun) what that meant. “Sorry about that. Do you ever miss this?”
Now I thought for a second and smiled. “No. I could live without waxing and plucking and all that.” Jess smirked at that. “But, no, I don’t miss it, and then I said out loud what had been hanging in the air for weeks, if not months. “I like being pretty. I like my clothes and my shoes. I like being Jessa,” and I looked at her. She just smiled and said, “I like being Dan,” and she kissed me.
Dinner was at a restaurant, Kitchen, in West Palm Beach. We walked to the reservations desk and Jess said, “We’re meeting someone, Conlan,” she said, giving the hostess a smile. I caught the hostess looking him then me up and down. She was a classic South Florida blond 24-year old, hoping she’d parlay this into a good marriage. ‘OK, Jessica,’ I thought, ‘you need to chill out.’
“Come this way,” she said, leading us to the table. Bruce and Ellen were already there. The table was set for six, however. The restaurant was pretty full so I thought ‘maybe this is just the table they had.’ I gave a quick look at the other place settings and looked at Jess. Jess gave me a quick look that said, ‘I don’t know either. Leave it be.’
We came to the table and Bruce and Ellen both stood. Jess and Bruce shook hands, Jess having mastered the grip and grin. Ellen and I exchanged kisses. She looked me up and down and said, “I love that dress, Jess. That is a great color for you.” It was. With my coloring, it really set off my eyes. Yup, I was Jessa and I dressed for other women.
I smiled and said, “Thank you. You look gorgeous.” She was wearing a black short sleeved A line dress, with a strand of pearls. It was knee length, simple yet elegant.
She smiled, “For an old lady.”
“Stop it honey,” Bruce said, giving me a kiss.
“Thank you for inviting us, Bruce. I really appreciate it.”
He laughed and said, “I didn’t have a choice. Seriously, I’m glad you made it. Sorry to take away your free night,” he said, seeming sincerely but he knew that we wouldn’t turn down a private audience with the boss.
I smiled and said, “Please. This is just the topper to a great trip. I’ve really had a great time.”
Ellen said, “So what did you do today?”
I started to say something but noticed Jess wanted to speak, so I paused. This was her chance to shine in front of the VP, so I held back. Like the song from Hamilton says, I decided to talk less and smile more. Jess said, “We did the cruise up the Intracoastal. That was a lot of fun.”
Bruce turned to me, “Did you enjoy it, Jessica?”
I decided to needle Jess. “I wanted to do the Segway ride, but Dan vetoed that…”
Ellen said, “I’m very disappointed in you, Dan,” and then she smiled.
Bruce said, “Didn’t your father teach you happy wife, happy life?” I always hated that expression. Even now, I did, even though it sort of benefitted me. It was sexist to both of us, like I was a child that needed to be pampered and Jess had no desires beyond pleasing me. I understood that it was a throwaway comment and that Bruce forgot about it in the time I was in my own head, but it just bothered me.
Jess laughed. “OK, in my defense, I grew up down here. I know a lot of people who work on Clematis,” the main business street in West Palm, “and if I was seen riding around on a Segway, I would never hear the end of it. Honey,” and she turned to me, “we can do it anyplace else. I will buy you a Segway,” as Bruce and Ellen laughed. Jess turned to Bruce and said, “Look me in the eye and tell me you would do this in Boston.”
Bruce laughed. “You’ve sold me, but Jessica,” and here I crossed my arms and mock-scowled, “seems less than impressed.”
I couldn’t hold it and laughed. “What about you two? What did you do?”
Ellen smiled, “We just relaxed by the pool. It was nice to just sit and read. Thank you again for joining us. I’m just glad to get a chance to speak with you two without prying eyes around,” and she gave me a knowing wink. I gave an exaggerated ‘I have no idea what you’re talking about’ look, which made her laugh. “I knew I liked you.”
Bruce smiled and said, in a drawn out manner, “Ellen….” Then he looked at me and said, with a grin, “I’ve heard you’re a literature and art expert, counselor.”
I blushed. I don’t know what had gotten into me but I kept blushing lately; maybe, hopefully, it was a pregnancy thing. Jess laughed and said, “What have you been up to, Jessa?”
‘Jessa’ made me regain my composure. “I’m no expert. I just really liked the exhibit.” I turned to Ellen and said, “Sorry if I monopolized the docent. I was talking my head off.” I did but the funny thing was, as Dan, I don’t know that I would have noticed - or cared. Since the switch, I had become more aware of the people around me and how I was perceived. Like Jess said, men talk, women listen. I was learning to listen.
Bruce smiled and said, “That’s not what I heard. What I heard was you really knew and loved the subject and were trying to show people how much you loved it. I’ve heard, and not just from Ellen, that you really got people interested. That’s a good thing. I want people to remember the people they met. That’s what this is about, the people.” I wasn’t sure if it was sales bullshit, but whatever it was, I believed it.
I smiled and said, “That’s what Dan says too.” I figured it was good to reflect that back. “It’s about the people. A hotel is a hotel, even as beautiful as this one, but it’s about spending time with everyone.” That was technically correct. It always was about the people with Jess. It was about how much she couldn’t stand them, but let’s not split hairs. “I’ve really realized that this trip. I’ve really gotten to know a lot of the people. Thank you.”
Bruce started to say something and Ellen interrupted him. “Stop it, Jess,” she said, with a smile. “This trip is for the company to thank everyone, spouses included. Nothing gets done without everyone, even us non-Stone people. Right, Bruce?”
He smiled. “And all these years I thought she wasn’t listening.”
She smiled and said, “I wasn’t. OK, that’s enough company talk. I said that I wanted to get to know you too, so tell me about yourselves. Dan, you first.”
Jess smiled and said, “Like I said, I’m a rare character, a native Floridian. I grew up in Coral Gables, then went to Vanderbilt. I moved to New York to work for the company and that’s that.”
“That’s not just that,” she said. “Tell me about your family.” OK, how much time and alcohol do you have, Ellen?
Jess smiled. “My dad is an ophthalmic surgeon and my mom is a federal judge. I have an older sister, Jill, who’s an economist and, as of next semester, an adjunct at Vassar.”
Bruce laughed. “That’s quite an accomplished family. They should meet mine.”
I squeezed Jess’ knee, hoping to impart ‘ask him’ to her. She may have looked like me but she still had some her because she said, “What about yours?”
“I’ll see your doctor and judge and raise you cardiothoracic surgeon at Deaconess and PhD psych and professor at BU. And my sister is a criminal defense attorney, and an ex-AUSA,” an assistant US attorney. “I guess we’re the black sheep.” I could see Jess relax.
I smiled and said, “You seem to have come out of it OK. Criminal defense, huh? We better keep her away from Johnny Rockmore.”
Bruce laughed, “Ah, the sarge. I remember when Denice worked with me,” I noticed how he said with, not for. Bonnie’s husband John used ‘for’ and that’s why Bruce was his boss. “He offered me his son.”
I laughed. “He offered me their daughter.”
Bruce said, “Jocelyn? She’s gotta be 14 now. I love Em, but say ‘no thanks.’”
“That’s amazing,” I said, “How do you keep track of all of them?”
Ellen smiled and said, “The same way you do.” I must’ve looked at her because she said, “Don’t play modest, Jess. I guarantee you that you remember everyone’s name and hometown and their kids.”
Jess looked at me, then her and said, “She’s got your number, sweetie.”
Ellen said, “Right now, how many people on this trip have you been with before?”
I smiled and looked at the ceiling. “Fourteen, no wait, fifteen. We were on a trip with Aaron Mack, but he wasn’t with Trish then. He brought this brunette, Allison, who had big...” And then I remembered who we were with and who I was, “uh, personality. Yeah, that’s it, personality.”
Bruce and Jess laughed, loudly. Ellen smiled and said, “Big personality? That’s the first thing Bruce notices. We can be walking down the street and his head will turn whenever he sees a woman with a big,” and she grinned. “Personality. That’s my Bruce, a personality man. The bigger, the better. What about you, Dan? Is it about personality?”
Jess smiled and said, “I’ve always been a morals man myself. Nothing better than a woman with morals.”
I mumbled and smiled, “OK, I’ll shut up now.”
Ellen said, “We’re just playing. You walked into that. What about you, Jess? Tell me about you, other than you love books and art.”
“Well,” I said. “I’m from Rockland County, New York…”
Bruce interrupted me, “Nanuet Hotel or Martio’s?” These were, in my opinion, the two best pizza places in the county but unless you were from there or spent time there, you wouldn’t know.
“Martio’s,” I said.
“OK, you can leave now,” he said, with a grin. “How can you like it better?”
“It’s as good and the lines are shorter,” I said, raising an eyebrow. “More importantly, how would you know them?”
“I used to work for AHP. I spent a lot of time at the Pearl RIver plant.”
“Ah, OK. I was trying to figure out how a Bostonian would know good pizza,” and he smirked. Bostonians swear by the pizza in the North End; everyone’s entitled to an opinion, even the wrong one. “Anyway, I’m from New City. My dad is a CPA. My mom stayed home and took care of me and my sister Laura. I went to the University of Wisconsin and then Columbia Law School. I’ve been doing litigation since I graduated,” and I paused. “But, that’s enough about us. I want to know about you two.” I decided to go with something girly. “How did you meet?”
Ellen smiled and said, “I hit him with my car.”
Jess went with, “I thought that usually comes after you’re married.”
Ellen gave him an ‘I like you’ look and said, “No, that’s when you do it on purpose. I was driving on Boylston and wasn’t paying attention…”
Bruce chimed in, “She was putting on makeup….”
“To go defend my dissertation and, anyway, I may have been putting on makeup when I stopped short and rammed into the car in front of me….”
“And she was so upset and so sorry over a little dent. I was ready to drive away and pay someone $50 to pull it but she said that we had to wait for the police and, by the time they got there, I had asked her out. Twenty-three years later and we’re still here.”
I smiled, “That is such a sweet story,” and it was. “So, what was your dissertation for?”
“A masters’ in clinical psychology,” she said, grinning. “His mother has a PhD in it and I have my masters’. Make of that what you will.”
Jess smiled and looked at Bruce. “My mom’s a judge and,” she pointed at me. “Hello?” Well, technically, I am, or was, your husband, so it’s not a mommy problem. It’s a mommy problem on psychotropic drugs but who’s splitting hairs?
Bruce laughed, “You know what drives me nuts? When they start talking shorthand and then look at you like you’re an idiot.”
I decided to play with him and hoped it didn’t backfire. I put my hand on Bruce’s and said, “You should know. That look has nothing to do with work.” Ellen laughed, loudly.
Bruce looked at Ellen and said, “I see why you like her,” and then, looking at me, “wiseass.” She liked me. I knew she did, but I needed affirmation. After that, the conversation flowed freely. Jess and Bruce inevitably drifted to work topics although I noticed an interesting trend. Bruce was asking Jess her opinion on field deployment. Without boring you, deployment is where you decide to place representatives; the more populated a district, the more representatives although it’s more complicated than that. It wasn’t Jess’ background but she was holding her own.
Ellen and I were talking about the museum. She said, “I mean, don’t get me wrong, I don’t mind Worth Avenue,” and she gave Bruce a look and said, with a smile, “Do not go there, Bruce. But I would have been happy to spend all day at the museum. I loved listening to you and the docent. I wished I could have been fully involved but sometimes I swear it’s like a field trip.”
Jess laughed, “That’s just what Jessa said,” and she rubbed my knee under the table. She did that before we switched; I never knew if it was affection or ‘shut up,’ so I went with ‘shut up.’ G-d knows I never did that before but this was her VP, her show. “She said that she thought some of the women were sneaking off to get fake i.d.s and beer.”
Bruce laughed and said, “We did that on a trip to New York in high school. Ah, Dan, you missed the fun times on 42nd. Sorry, ladies.” Well, technically, I missed them but who’s counting?
We had ordered appetizers, when another couple approached the table. He was about 55, with salt and pepper hair, brown eyes. 6’2”, if I had to guess. He was dressed in a navy suit that was clearly made for him, not off the rack and a light blue shirt. He was with a woman, who was about 5’9”, 155 pounds, brown hair, green eyes and wearing a red dress, v neck, short sleeve and knee length. She looked familiar but I couldn’t quite place her. It was going to bother me until I did but resolved to focus. Yup, if the lawyer thing failed, I was going to the police academy.
The man introduced himself, “Hi, I’m Greg Lyles.” Greg Lyles was the president of the US division. Someone else would’ve been late. He was the president so he wasn’t late, we were early. Jess stuck out her hand and, looking him in the eye, said, “Hi Sir. I’m Dan Silverman, we met at the Praxal launch last year.” I was impressed. The old Jess would have been hyperventilating at the prospect of dinner with the boss, but not the new Jess. I, on the other hand, was confused and nervous. Why was the president of the division here and eating with us? Or, more accurately, why were eating with him? “This is my wife, Jessica. Jessica, this is Greg Lyles.”
I smiled and gently gripped his hand, “Very nice to meet you, sir.”
He laughed and said, “Call me Greg, you two.” He turned to Dan and said, “I’ve been hearing a lot about you lately. Your work on Xaldor is impressing a lot of people.”
Jess smiled and said, “Thank you. That’s always nice to hear. It’s been a team effort. Everyone deserves credit.” Bruce gave a small smile and an almost imperceptible nod. I was still curious as to what was going on but everyone seemed to be glad we were there, so I let it ride.
Ellen turned to the other woman and I and said, “Jessica Silverman, this is Jillian Lyles. Jillian Lyles, this is Jessica Silverman.” We leaned in and gave each other a small peck on the cheek. I kept racking my brain trying to remember why I knew her. I knew we had never been on a trip with them, I’d remember that. I just hoped my thoughts weren’t crossing my face.
“It’s very nice to meet you, Jillian,” I said, still racking my brain.
Jillian smiled, “You too. Ellen has told me all about you. She said that you can speak intelligently on any topic.”
I debated making a joke like, “Speak yes, intelligent maybe,” but went with, “It’s easy to talk when you have someone interesting to talk to.” Even though I knew Ellen would get it, I had found that my sense of humor tended to fall flat a lot on these trips.
Jess, Greg and Bruce fell into work talk which was fine. When you get a private audience with the boss and the boss’ boss, you use it. Jillian, Ellen and I began to talk amongst ourselves. The more Jillian spoke, the more I was tortured. I recognized her voice but couldn’t remember where. Eventually, I said, “I am so sorry, Jillian, but I feel like I’ve met you somewhere and I can’t figure out where.”
She smiled and turned to Ellen, “Did you tell her?”
Ellen laughed. “No, but I told you she’d know you. Jess, you are amazing. Is there something you don’t know?”
Everyone at the table looked at me. “OK, if there’s some inside joke here, let me in. Please.”
Jillian said, in her best NPR voice, “I’m Jillian Robinson, NPR News.”
I smiled, “That’s it! I knew I recognized you. I love your work. I used to listen to you,” and then I paused, realizing that the next part of the sentence could go either way, “when I was in college.”
She laughed, “Well, I opened myself up to that.”
I backpedaled, poorly. “Well, it was a really long time ago,” which I realized probably made her feel even older. “Anyway, I remember a story you did on Latrell Sprewell.” Everyone kept looking at me. “OK, so Spree turned down a contract from the T-Wolves on the grounds that he needed to feed his family and Jillian did this whole story on how much you could do with the $14.6 million he turned down. It was so amazing. That and the story on the Food Bank and how many people they could feed with the money. It was amazing.” Jess told me later that I was gesturing passionately while I spoke. I felt everyone staring at me. “Well, now, I feel silly.”
Greg smiled. “You have a fan, Jill.” I wanted to sink below the table. “I’m amazed Jessica. How old is that story? 10, 12 years?”
I regained my composure. “It was a great story,” I said. I turned to Jillian, “It really was. I always wanted to write a story like that.”
She smiled. “Now it’s my turn to blush. Are you a journalist?”
I blushed again. I must’ve looked like an idiot or someone in the throes of fever. “Hardly. I wrote for the paper in college, but journalist is not a term I would use.” It wasn’t. I covered student government meetings and protests against the Iraq war on campus. When I was a senior, I covered the state government. But I was not a journalist. I was a kid with a laptop.
“And what do you do now?”
“I’m an attorney, a litigator. What about you? I haven’t heard you on NPR in a while.”
“I’m in corporate communications now,” she said. “After I had my second child, I decided to go inside for a while. Occasionally, I’ll write something for HuffPo, but not really. Given Greg’s job, it’s best that I lay off politics for awhile,” she said, with a wistful, if not rueful, look in her eye.
“So, what sort of things does that involve?” Once she began to describe her job, the conversation inevitably drifted back to Stone vs non-Stone. I kept reminding myself to listen to Jillian and Ellen, and not talk too much; I was the junior guy’s wife and needed to defer, for Jess’ sake. Well, that and I wanted them to like me. Jillian told us her job was mostly writing press releases for companies and managing media relations for hedge funds. She couldn’t work in pharma, for obvious reasons. She had two sons, Jack and Eric, who were 17 and 12. Jack was a senior and was considering Wisconsin.
“Well,” I said, “if he has any questions, please have him call me. I had a great time there.”
Jill said, “Thanks. I’ll let him know.” I knew he would never call and she would forget the offer, but it was one of those things that you said, like asking people ‘how are you.’ You didn’t really care and they didn’t care if you did, but it was common courtesy.
We ordered dinner and Greg ordered a couple of bottles of expensive Merlot. I didn’t want to drink (Emma needed that Ivy League degree) but knew that, politically, I couldn’t order club soda unless I wanted to go down that road with Ellen. I liked her but I wasn’t there yet. So, I took small sips and made it look like I was drinking it. Besides, everyone was drinking but no one was going to get drunk. These were people who knew what a work dinner was.
Greg, Bruce and Jess were talking about interviews when Greg turned to me and said, “OK, counselor. Give me an interview question you’d ask.” Well, I was asked once when I lost my virginity (I work with construction, and was told that I better be able to handle some interesting people) but decided that was NSFW and didn’t really tell you anything. By the way, the answer is 17. To Angela Maresca. Before I puked on her. I went with, “What was your first job and what did you learn there that helps you in your current position?”
He smiled, “Interesting. So what’s the answer?”
“I worked as a wait...ress at a country club near my house.” I had been a waiter but that was seventeen years and one penis ago. “I learned how to deal with people. Not in some vague Miss USA garbage way, but I learned that sometimes people will be irrational and nasty and you may not want to deal with them, but you have to. And this was a country club where people I knew from high school belonged and I had to deal with that too.”
Jillian smiled, “Meaning?”
“Meaning that high schools girls can be, um, challenging.” She and Ellen laughed. “And maybe not so nice to someone they know who’s serving them, but you don’t have the luxury of getting angry. You just do your job the best you can.” I didn’t get shit from the girls; they flirted with me so I’d give them free stuff, although they didn’t reciprocate nearly enough. It was the boys who would do things like spill stuff on purpose so we had to clean it up.
Bruce laughed, “That was a very mature attitude.”
I smiled. “You asked what I learned from it. Then? Then I hated them with every fiber of my being and wanted to spit in their food,” and everyone laughed.
Bruce said, “Did you ever?”
I smiled and said, “Let’s just say that rule Number 1 is don’t mean to be your waitress. Rule Number 2, if you are, don’t eat the coleslaw,” which wasn’t true. Everyone fantasized about it, but no one would do it. “Seriously though, what I learned is not every day at work is going to be fun. The client isn’t always right but they’re the client and you have to figure out to make them happy while doing the best job you can for them. OK, what about you?”
Greg smiled. “Country club, too, except I was a range rat. You know, drive the little cart recovering golf balls while guys like Bruce here aim at me. What did I learn from that? Life is full people aiming golf balls at you, the key is to try and avoid getting hit and not letting it faze you when you do.”
I smiled and said, “So what was the last golf ball that hit you?” Jillian looked at me and gave me a quick smile that felt like an affirmation.
Greg smiled, “The last time I went to Congress to testify on drug prices. That was probably as close to being in the cart as I’ve been for a long time,” and then we went around the table, talking about first jobs. Ellen worked as a secretary for an HVAC company and said that the training she got there gave her more insight into human behavior than her clinical training. Jillian worked at Baskin-Robbins Ice Cream and Bruce worked as a plumber’s helper and said, “The value of a dollar. Well, that and some days, you’re just going to be knee deep in..” and he smiled.
Greg smiled at me and said, “I have to remember those questions, counselor. What made you think of them?”
I thought for a second. “You can learn about someone from their first job and how they saw it. I mean, for most people, it’s a job not a career and so you have to think about what you learned. And it’s open-ended.”
Greg smiled knowingly, “Open-ended?”
“Open-ended. The first question doesn’t matter. The second answer does. Lawyer’s trick,” and I smiled, somewhere between sweetly and sarcastically. I wanted to affirm that I was someone too, that I could be in many rooms. Then I thought about it and realized that I was Jessa, not Dan. This was Jess’ chance to shine, not mine.
He looked at Jess and said, “You better stay on her good side…”
Jillian smiled. “Not bad, Jess. Do you mind if I call you that?”
No, of course, I don’t. You’re the boss’ boss’ wife. Call me what you want. “Not at all, that’s what everyone calls me.” Except Jess, who looked at me with a smile. She knew that I was her Jessa.
She said, “That was a good question, and a better follow up. Somewhere in there lies a journalist waiting to come out.”
“I wish,” I said, with a smile. “I would’ve liked that.”
She smiled, “So, why didn’t you?”
I looked up at the ceiling, still no answer. “I don’t know. I mean, when I graduated, only the Journal had a pay wall. Everyone else said ‘information wants to be free.’”
She smiled, “And if information is free, guess who doesn’t get paid?”
I said, “Exactly.” That wasn’t it exactly. I didn’t try and be a reporter because everyone told me that I should go to law school, that I could make a good living. They didn’t tell me that I’d be graduating into 2009, but I got a good job that paid well. I didn’t really think about it until now. “So, armed with my English degree, here I am.”
“Well, if you ever want to write, let me know. Send me some clips. It’d have to be for free though.”
“Thanks,” I said, with a smile. Jess squeezed my knee. I knew this was a good squeeze, because it wasn’t too hard. “I think I’d like that.” Ellen gave me a little smile.
Before dessert, I excused myself to go to the bathroom and Ellen came with me. I was at the mirror checking my makeup and she said, “You’re doing great, Jess.” I didn’t realize that she was paying attention like that but, in retrospect, I’m not sure why I was surprised. She had been playing the game a long time.
I smiled. “Thanks. I’m having a great time. I hope I’m not talking too much.”
She took my hand. “Would you stop it? I never thought I’d meet someone more neurotic than me. You are doing terrific and so is Dan.”
“Thanks. I really hope we didn’t horn in on your dinner with Greg and Jillian.”
She looked at me and said seriously. “I invited you, remember? I wanted you here. I like talking to you and so do Greg and Jill. I’ve known Greg for twenty years and he likes you, which is good for Dan.”
“Thanks. I mean, do I really matter?” She looked at me. “Sorry, I mean I come from a law firm. Everyone could love you but what matters is numbers. If I bill 2,500 hours, I could scream at people and be partner. If I bill 1,500, I could be everyone’s friend and I’m gone.”
She smiled. “It’s the same here but, all things being equal, if people like you, it helps Dan a lot. No one wants to be around some people….so what happened exactly?”
I smiled sweetly, thinking about what Julie told me and thinking how I was here and Bonnie wasn’t. “Nothing. Nothing happened. Someone who shall remain nameless,” and Ellen laughed. “Said something, someone else reacted in a way that she would prefer to walk back…”
Ellen said, “I heard that second someone didn’t do anything wrong.”
I smiled, knowing that I was seen as the aggrieved party. “She didn’t, but she would still handle it differently now. And she found out who her friends were and she’s glad for that. Anyway, it’s done and the second someone put it out of her mind. Seriously, how did you hear?”
She sighed. “I told you it’s like a field trip. People like you and what’s most important is the people who need to like you like you,” and she pointed towards the door. “I like you.”
I blushed. “I like you too. I’m sorry to be all neurotic.”
She laughed, “Please. Ask Bruce how bad I was on the way home from our first big dinner. You’re doing terrific. Keep it up,” and she gave me a hug. We walked out of the bathroom and I felt great. I was doing well and I was doing well for Jess.
We got back to the table. Bruce, Jess and Greg stood, which struck me as old-fashioned but I would’ve done it. It felt good to be on the receiving end of it. Greg said, “I hope you don’t mind, but we’d like to borrow Dan tomorrow morning for a round.”
I smiled, figuring this was a very good thing. If they were going to fire him, they just would and they wouldn’t have asked us to dinner and yes, I’m neurotic, why do you ask? “Of course. I’ll find something to keep me out of trouble. But, when you’re going from second to third, hold the clutch down halfway. Otherwise, it stalls out.”
Greg, with the practiced timing of a good salesman, said, with a smile, “I said Dan, not van.”
I smiled. “I heard you the first time,” I said, to laughter.
Bruce said, “I had a Datsun B-210 wagon like that. And a girlfriend. Couldn’t get either started in the morning.” and Ellen threw a napkin at his head.
We took a separate cab back to the hotel for the same reason and got back around 10:00 PM. We came into the lobby and ran into Jane, Courtney and everyone and went into the bar for a drink. I was back on club soda; when asked, I said, “I had a little too much tonight.” I had had one glass of wine at dinner but figured no one would ask beyond that and they didn’t. We all sat and talked. I started thinking about everything. This time, the last year, we would have been sitting in the bar with everyone, but the conversation wouldn’t have been the same. It would’ve been some stilted conversation about sports, while Jess pretended, poorly, to like the wives. Now, we were both enjoying ourselves. We certainly wouldn’t have had dinner with the bosses. Ellen would’ve been polite to me, as she was to everyone, but I would’ve been eminently forgettable. I wouldn’t have met Jillian. Did everyone like me or were they just amazed that a girl knew things? I know I was the same person as I was before, but was I better or was this just the triumph of low expectations?
Around 12:00, the crowd started to break up. Everyone went to their rooms. We got out of the elevator and I took off my shoes, “Oh, that feels so much better,” I said. “They look good but damn they hurt.” I smiled sweetly, “Foot rub, honey?”
Jess smiled. “You are such a girl, Jessa,” she said, as she slid in the key card.
We walked in and Jess went to take off her jacket. I looked down and there was a note under the door, addressed to me. It’s interesting that Jess didn’t notice it. Maybe she was becoming more like me every day. I opened it:
“In case you were wondering if you matter, you do. They loved you. See you tomorrow,” and it was signed with a heart and “E.” I smiled and put it in my purse.
We sat on the bed and Jess rubbed my feet. “That feels so good,” I said. “Dinner was fun.”
“Yeah,” she said. “It was. I can’t believe Greg was there. That was weird.”
“You did amazing. I was so proud of you. He likes you, Bruce likes you.”
“You think?” she said, in a way that said she knew, which surprised and excited me. The old Jess would’ve said, “I don’t think so,” or said, “you think,” really wondering about the answer. So, would the old Dan.
“Did I do OK?” I said, looking at her.
“You were great,” she said, “They loved you. When you got up to go the bathroom, Jillian told me that to make sure you sent her clips, that she expected that she’d love them. And Ellen wanted you there. Seriously, though, are you OK? You seemed a little out of it in the bar.”
“Just thinking,” I said, as she switched from rubbing my feet to my shoulders. “That feels great. Thank you, Dan.”
She smiled. “Don’t think, Jessa. It only hurts the ball club. Seriously, though, what’s up?”
“Just thinking about everything. Dinner. The trip. This year.”
“What are you thinking?”
“I’m thinking,” I said, turning to face her. “How great you are. How much you’ve grown. You’re a real leader. Ramona said it and Greg and Bruce just validated it. Everyone respects you. They really do. And you’re not a dick about it. John Chapman’s people listen to him because they have to, because they’re afraid. People listen to you because you lead by example. Seriously, I keep saying it because I’m proud of you. And so is,” and I pointed at my stomach, “the zygote,” and then I tapped my head three times, as if to knock on wood.
Jess smiled, “I couldn’t have done it without you.” I pursed my lips and blew air as if to say, “please,” but she said, “No, I’m serious. I’ve been thinking too. Everyone loves you. Jane, Courtney,” and then she paused, “Ellen, Jill, everyone. They’ve all told me how great you are. How smart, how funny, which I already knew. And I’ve seen how much you care. And I figured it out.”
I was confused. “And?
“They’re not Barbies to you. They’re women. They’re people. You relate to them, better than I ever did, then I ever could.”
I got a little nervous. “Are you saying you think I wanted to be a girl?”
She took my hands. “No no no. I never thought that and still don’t. You’re who you always were but you couldn’t be you when you were you because they wouldn’t let you. But, by being me, you get to be you. Does that make sense?”
“Kind of But what about you? You don’t want to be you? I mean like me?”
“I am me. I’m more me now than I ever was then.” Now I was thoroughly confused which must have shown because she said, “I never wanted to be a guy. I liked being a girl. I just never liked the games that went with it.”
“I don’t either,” I said and I didn’t. I was like Sarah in that respect. I just wanted everyone to get along.
She smiled. “I’ve watched you. You don’t play games, because you don’t have to. You’re just one of those women who gets it. No one plays the game with you because you’re genuine. People like you. They like Jessa, so they don’t play the game with you. Since this all happened, I realized that I always related better to guys. They don’t play games. I mean I had girlfriends but half the time, they were frenemies like Lori. I was a guy’s girl.”
I thought about it. I had close guy friends but who did I turn to? Michelle and Sammie, they were my closest friends. “What does that make me? A girl’s guy? A girl’s girl?” I wasn’t upset about the implication, but just wondered.
She kissed me and said, “We’re us. We always were and we always will be. I just know that you’re a better me than me. And you were a better you than me. But I’m a better me as you than I ever was as me, y’ know?”
I laughed, “He’s on third base.”
“I’m serious,” she said. “Everything I’ve done, I’ve accomplished is because of you. It was before and it is now. By being you, you made me better. I love you, Jessa.”
I started to cry, stupid hormones. “I love you too, Dan.”
We made love and we went to bed. The next morning, Dan got up and met Bruce and Greg for golf. I laid in bed for a while and read, then decided to go for a run on the beach. I wasn’t in the mood for the gym today. We’d be heading back to the cold tomorrow and decided to take advantage of one last day of sun. Forget April. February is the cruelest month, at least in New York. I was stretching against the steps down to the beach when I heard, “Hey, Jess. Headed for a run?”
I turned around to see Jillian. “Oh hi, Jillian. I figured I’d get a run in while they were at golf. You?”
She smiled, “Same. I like running down here. No,” and she looked at the hotel and rolled her eyes. “Crowds.”
I smiled and said, “If you want to be alone, I 100% get that. I’ll wait until you’re down a ways to start.”
She laughed. “I said crowds, not you. Come on,” she said and we started to run down the beach. “I had a great time last night. You guys are terrific.”
“Thanks,” I said. “We enjoyed it too. I hope I didn’t talk your ear off or embarrass you with that story.”
She laughed, “Please. Yes, Greg busted my chops about you remembering and,” and she mocked stabbed herself in the chest, “being in college when it happened, but I was not in the least embarrassed. And you talked the right amount. I see why Ellen likes you so much.”
I blushed. “I like her too. She’s terrific. I’m glad we got to spend the time together.”
“She is too. So am I. I am serious though about writing. If you don’t mind an unpaid job to start, let me know. I have to see the clips but I can tell from your conversation, you’d could be very good at it. Ellen can give you my email.”
I smiled, “It would be good to engage that part of my brain again,” I said. “Thanks.” I realized what Jess said yesterday. None of this would have happened to Dan. Dan would be the guy running on the beach with his earbuds in. Dan would’ve been the guy in the corner talking about sports at the cocktail party at Marty and Evelyn’s. Dan may have made partner, but he wouldn’t be here. Jessa was.
We ran for a while, talking about her favorite place to cover (Brussels) and her least favorite (Springfield, Illinois), the demands of Greg’s job and her kids and just life in general. She told me that her kids were the best thing that she had ever done and asked about our plans. All these months later, and I was still amazed at how forward women were on this topic. Your uterus was for public discussion.
I just smiled and said, “Soon. I’m ready, I think.” Hopefully, nine months less three days, but who’s counting?
She smiled, and said, “When it happens, try and enjoy every minute. It goes too fast. One day, you’ll look up and your 2 year old will be 6 feet tall and looking at colleges.” She stopped, took a deep breath and said, “Greg really likes Dan, by the way. He says he has real potential.”
I smiled. “Well, that’s always good to hear, thanks.” I joked, “I keep telling him that when it comes to cleaning up after himself, too.”
She laughed, “Good luck with that. Three men. My house smells like a locker room and looks like a bomb went off.”
We finished the run and she said, “I’m going to stay down here for a few minutes, sorry.”
I smiled, “Crowds?” I said, making quotes. “I didn’t see you.”
I went upstairs, showered and was sitting having coffee with Ellen, when Bruce, Greg and Jess came back. Jess had a huge grin on her face, as did Bruce and Greg. Bruce looked at me, swatted Jess on the ass and said, “Go over.” He gave Ellen a small smile and a nod.
Jess came over and said almost giddily, “Hi Ellen. Excuse us, but can I borrow Jess for a second?”
Ellen smiled knowingly and said, “Of course. I’ll see you in a little while, Jess.”
I smiled, “What? What’s so important?”
She grinned and took my hand. “What is so important is I was just offered the job of assistant VP of operations for the US.”
I hugged him, “That is so amazing! What? How? Huh? Tell me.” Over Jess’ shoulder, I could see Bruce and Greg smiling.
“Well, Dave Raymond is retiring, so Bruce is going to be the senior VP now and he needs a second in command, like a chief of staff and he offered it to me today. I told him that I had to talk to you.”
“Are you an idiot? Go over and accept. Now!” I felt so proud of her. I realized that I may never have felt that before. I may have congratulated her when things went well and commiserated when they went poorly, but I don’t know that I felt pride. Maybe it was my male ego and maybe neuroses, but I realized it now. I was proud and wanted to make sure that she knew that.
“It’s longer hours and more travel...but I get a 25% raise,” she said, the grin never leaving his face.
“Hello? Is this a negotiating thing? Because unless that’s it, get up and go. Now!”
“What about…?”
She didn’t have to finish the sentence. I knew what she meant. “We will be fine,” I said, actively stopping myself from touching my stomach in front of Ellen. “This is a huge opportunity and, if you’re not going over, I, as your attorney, will,” and I got up to walk over. Jess got up and we walked over together.
Jess looked at Bruce and said, “On advice of my attorney, I accept. I’m looking forward to it.”
Bruce looked at me and said, “You have a very smart attorney. I strongly recommend following her advice..often,” and he leaned over and gave me a kiss. “How about a drink to celebrate?”
We walked to the pool bar. Jess was talking about the job with Bruce and Greg. I could see everyone looking at them and then us, trying to figure out why the HQ guy was with the VP and the President. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Jane who raised an eyebrow and smiled. I mouthed “later.”
Ellen looked at me and said, “Welcome aboard,” with a smile. I was aboard. On what I was aboard, I had no idea. But I was aboard.
Dan and Jessa continue on their path. Sometimes, man plans and God laughs.
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
The dinner Friday night had been amazing. When Greg announced Jess’ promotion, everyone came over and congratulated her. Jane came over and said, “That explains the bar.”
“Sorry,” I said, “I wasn’t sure what was for public consumption…”
She laughed, “Please. I totally get it.” She gave me a hug and whispered in my ear, “Did you see Bonnie’s face when they announced Julie Mannheim was getting Bruce’s job?”
I giggled and said, “I am above such things,” and then I paused, “But if I wasn’t, I would note that I thought her face was going to crack from the fake smile she pasted on and that John looked sick when he realized he had to work for a woman. But, I won’t because I am better than that.” Then, I wondered if I was being bitchy? I was always sarcastic, but didn’t want to be catty and bitchy. I wanted to be the best Jessa, not the worst parts of Jess.
I was talking to Jane, Renee and Courtney when Bonnie came over and said, “Well, congratulations, Dan,” as she gave him a peck on the cheek. Jess looked somewhere between amused and irritated, as she took in the obvious sycophancy.
“Thank you, Bonnie. I appreciate it,” Jess said, as she turned to John. “I look forward to working with you, John. I’m due in Chicago in a couple of weeks. Let’s set something up.” I was proud of the way she ignored Bonnie. The old Jess wouldn’t have. The new one wasn’t sure what she could do.
Bonnie looked at me and said, “Congratulations to you too, Jessica. Are you going to quit your job now?”
Courtney looked at Jane, who looked at Renee who looked at Courtney. Then, they all looked at the floor, at the ceiling, at anywhere but Bonnie and me. “Um, no, Bonnie. Why would I?”
She smiled sweetly, the vinegar overpowering the honey. “Well, now, that Dan’s been promoted, you don’t need the second income. You don’t have to work anymore.”
I wanted to tell her off, to call her a retrograde bitch who had so little self-esteem and identity that she tied it to her husband and mocked other women. To tell her that everyone saw through her bullshit and it was hurting her precious John, who was cheating on her. But I didn’t. It would be bad to make a scene on the first day of Jess’ new job. I needed to be aboard. Besides, because I’m not 100% altruistic, we won and they lost. I just smiled and said, “Bonnie, that’s a very interesting idea. I’ll have to take it under advisement. I enjoy my career,” not my job, you dumb cow, my career, “but who knows? Excuse me,” and I walked to the bar.
Renee walked next to me, laughing, “I am very impressed, Jessica.”
I laughed, “About what? That was a very interesting idea she had,” as I quickly stuck my finger down my throat.
“I didn’t know that people still thought that way. Even my grandmother, my 93 year old grandmother, doesn’t think that way”
I smiled. “I know. Please.” But, it planted a seed of doubt. Was I expected to quit? I had no interest in quitting. I liked being a lawyer. I liked what I did and I was good at it. No one expected Will Mannheim to quit his job. Why should they expect me to? Did Jess expect me to? I wasn’t ready for this.
The party ended and we went upstairs to pack. They were picking up our bags in the morning. That was one of the fun things about this trip, no dragging bags through the lobby. Jess was on a high. She was taking off her tie and said, “That was the most incredible night of my life,” she said. I thought about asking about our wedding night but that would be teasing. I knew what she meant and was letting her bask in the sunshine. “I feel so amazing. Wasn’t it amazing?”
I thought about bringing up Bonnie’s comment or whether I was getting catty but decided against it. Jess earned this feeling and I wasn’t going to spoil it. “It was. Again, I am so proud of you. I love you,” I said, kissing her.
She hugged me and said, “I couldn’t, I can’t do it without you. You’re my rock.”
“I’m a pretty small rock,” I said, laughing.
She lifted me in the air and spun me around. I liked the way this felt, like I was flying, like we were flying. I felt my dress fly around me. I was wearing a sleeveless black dress. It had lace rosettes on the bodice and a full skirt that came down to just below the knee. “You are, but you are the reason for this. You are the smartest, most beautiful woman, no person, in the world.” I knew she meant it. If I had made partner as Dan, would I have said that? I hoped so, but didn’t know. “And you were the most beautiful woman there. You looked perfect.”
“Thanks,” I said. “You really like it?”
She smiled and spun me around again. “I love you in lace. You were made for lace, Jessa.”
I smiled, “Meaning?” I knew what she meant, but wanted to hear it.
“Meaning,” she said, kissing my neck. “It is pretty, like you. It is delicate, like you. And,” and she took a deep breath, “it is feminine, like you. Like it or not, you are feminine, Jessa. You are smart. You can be tough. But you are feminine and beautiful. And I love it. Sorry.”
I took a deep breath, “Don’t apologize. This is who I am now and I like the way I am. I didn’t at first but I do now. I like the way I feel, the way I look. I’m happy. You’re happy. We’re happy.” I paused, “You are happy, right? This isn’t weird, right?”
She gave me a deep kiss. “It is not weird. I have never been happier, Jessa. If we woke up tomorrow the old way, I’d still be happy but I’m the happiest I’ve ever been in my life and it’s because of you, because of Jessa. I am going to spend the rest of my life showing you that. The past seven years have been the best seven years of my life. The past eight months have been the best eight months of my life. And I want the next fifty years to be the best fifty years of our life. I want you to be the mother of my children, the grandmother of my grandchildren. I want us to be the old couple in the restaurant, with you telling me to not eat that, it gives me gas.”
I laughed, “You’re nuts, you know that?”
“Uh huh. But I mean it. I have never been happier. By the way, thank you for offering to look at apartments with Julie.” Julie was going to move to New York, while Will stayed in Denver. He said that he’d be able to telecommute at least a couple of weeks a month but that he’d need time to make it happen. In the meantime, Julie needed to find a place. “I mean, you don’t have to. You know we have relocation people for that.”
“I know but I think she likes the idea of someone she knows showing her around and being another set of eyes. If you don’t want me to, I won’t. I just thought it was a nice thing to do.”
“It is,” she said, kissing me again. “I didn’t mean it that way at all. It is nice. Thank you for doing it. I’m sure she appreciates it.” She did, I thought. I couldn’t have done it as Dan and wouldn’t have thought about doing it. That would have been weird. But, now I was Jessa and people wanted me aboard.
“I was surprised to see you and Becca all buddy buddy.”
“Why? She’s great, really cool. When she comes in in May, she and I are going out.”
“That’s, uh, great,” she said, with a half smile.
“What?”
“I just didn’t expect it,” she said.
“Why not? She’s funny and a hell of a pop-a-shot player.”
She smiled. “I’m not the idiot you used to be.” OK, I’ll take that as a compliment - I’m not an idiot anymore. Take what you get. Then she got serious. “The first two days you wanted to rip her to shreds. And I know why. Sorry.”
I looked down at the ground, and then at her. “Still, I made a mistake. I owned it and she and I got past it. It’s fine. We’re fine. It’s all good.”
She laughed. “Owned it? How?”
“I apologized. I told her I was wrong and that it was my fault.”
“Wow. You amaze me, Jessa. You really are the best of both worlds.”
“What does that mean?”
“It means,” and she put her arms around my waist, “that you look like that but you still think the same way.” She kissed my neck. “I could never have done that. I don’t know that many women who could, and not here especially.”
“Yeah, well, I can,” I said, putting my arms around her neck. “Besides it made me feel better. Letting it stew would have been bad for me. And for you.”
She spun me around again. “Like I said the other day, you don’t play games and that’s why I love you, why everyone loves you.” She unzipped my dress and pulled it off my shoulders.
“What do you think you’re doing?”
She kissed my shoulders and unclasped my bra. I was lucky that she used to be me. She was so much smoother at it. “I think I am going to make love to the most beautiful woman I know.” I loved when she was forward like this. I found it incredibly sexy. I thought about it for a second and wondered if she liked it that way before. Then, I realized that it didn’t matter. I was Jessa. I wasn’t Dan and didn’t want to be. I was Jessa, Dan’s wife and hopefully Emma’s mother. Everything was good.
Until it wasn’t. Two weeks later, I was at work. I went to the bathroom and when I looked at the toilet paper, I saw blood. I wasn’t pregnant. I was glad that I didn’t have any clients to see that day. I could just put my head down and do my work, and ignore what happened. I left work and walked home in a funk. I couldn’t handle the train today. I didn’t put in my ear buds, the noise in my head being enough.
I came in the door and realized Jess wasn’t there. She had a late dinner meeting with her team. On the one hand, I was grateful that I didn’t have to talk to her. On the other hand, I hated that she wasn’t there, that I had to sit by myself thinking about this, about how I had failed. I clearly had timed my ovulation wrong. I marked down my period in my phone, so that this month I could do better.
An hour later, Jess came in. “Hey, Jessa,” she said, giving me a kiss. She looked at me, “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing,” I said, staring past her, at the wall.
She looked at me. “It’s all over your face. Something’s bothering you.”
“It came.”
It took her a second and she said, “I’m sorry, honey.” She gave me a hug. “Are you upset?”
This time, I was honest. “Yeah. I was thinking and hoping I was. Everything was going so well,” and I started to tear up.
“Shhh,” she said, holding me. I hated feeling so emotional. “It’s going to be OK.” She smiled, “It was only the first month. I mean the odds were against us.”
“Yeah, I know,” I said, sitting up. “It still sucks.”
She smiled. “You know what’s worse? We can’t even practice.” I swatted her. “I couldn’t resist,” she said. The stupid joke made me feel better.
Intellectually, I knew she was right. The odds were against us. It was only the first month. Maybe I was still stressed from the night before, from Becca. Maybe I ate the wrong things. Maybe I screwed up and we were supposed to have sex a whole bunch before ovulation. I decided that this time I was going to do everything right. I was going to eat right, not get stressed (well, as much as possible). This time next month, I was going to be pregnant. Being the neurotic obsessive person I was, I went online and did research.
The next night, I heard Jess come in. “I’m in the kitchen,” I said.
She walked in and smiled. “Mmm, that smells good. What brought this on?”
“I was doing research on the right foods…”
She pulled my t-shirt to the side and kissed my neck. “That’s my OCD Jessa,” she laughed.
“Stop! What do you say at work? Fail to plan, plan to fail?”
She grabbed me by the waist and kissed me. “I’m teasing. So, what are we eating?”
“Salmon, brown rice and broccoli. We both need to eat more fruits and vegetables and whole grains. I’m cutting out Diet Pepsi and coffee completely. Not even caffeine free.”
She rolled her eyes and laughed, “Do I have to?” Jess and I were both caffeine junkies. I had cut down on it once we started trying but she hadn’t. I didn’t want to deprive her unless we had to and then she would be out of luck.
I smiled and kissed her on the lips. “You don’t have to cut out coffee but soda can affect sperm count so it’s out. Drink iced tea instead. Unsweetened. A little sugar if you have to, but no artificial stuff,” I said, in a tone that brooked no opposition. She saluted. “Also, starting tomorrow, you start on vitamins – C, E, calcium and folic acid,” and I handed her the bottles.
She laughed, “The internet is amazing, isn’t it?”
“You know what else? I screwed up. We’re supposed to have sex every day in the three days before ovulation, not abstain.” The minute I said that, I knew I was in for it.
She grinned, from ear to ear and took my hand, “Honey. I know how important this is to you. I am willing to make that sacrifice. In fact, I think it’s important to increase our odds as high as possible. As soon as your period is over, we should do it every day. Twice a day, if needed.”
“Shut up,” I laughed. “God, we’ve switched places, haven’t we? Sorry that I want this.”
“We want this,” she said. “Not you, us.”
I smiled, “We want this. I want to be making you miserable by summer time. Now, go sit down. I’ll let you know when dinner is ready.”
She smiled. “Take off your shoes.”
“What?”
“Take them off for me,” she said, with a big grin.
“Why?” I said laughing.
“Because I like my women barefoot and in the kitchen,” she said, leaving off the third part of that saying. ‘Next month,’ I thought.
The next morning, Jess woke up. “Hey, beautiful, are you OK?”
I was in bed and had a thermometer in my mouth. I held up one finger as if to connote, ‘wait a second.’ The thermometer beeped. I looked at the display and typed my temperature in my phone. I had downloaded an app to track it. “Sorry, I was taking my basal body temperature. They say to take it every day at the same time. When it’s lowest, that’s when you’re ovulating.”
She laughed, “Uh no shit Jessa. I know that.” I forgot. Lately, that part of our lives seemed like other people. “Did you do this last month?”
“Yes, but no. This time, every day same time starting today.”
She started rubbing my shoulders. “Relax. It is going to happen.”
“Do you believe that?” I needed the affirmation. I hated feeling this needy but, since we started trying and especially since I got my period, I felt lost. I was Jessa. I was happy being Jessa but I still felt lost. I felt like the last part of Dan in me was going away and, although I couldn’t have expressed it then, I needed this pregnancy to feel anchored to something.
She kept rubbing my shoulders. “Of course, I do. We are going to get pregnant. You are going to get big and fat and your feet will swell and you won’t sleep….”
I smiled, “Shut up. I’m serious.”
She kissed me. “Sorry, I forgot who I’m dealing with. It is going to happen and you are going to be beautiful.”
“Here’s hoping,” I said.
I went off to work, pleased with myself. I was crampy as hell but I was in control of my life. I was eating right, I was tracking and nothing was going to stop me. I was wearing black pants, a blue sweater and flats. I couldn’t wear a dress on the first day of my period. I felt bloated and disgusting. I couldn’t help laughing. If you had told me a year ago that I would thinking about what to wear when I had my period, I would have had you committed. Now, it was like breathing, eating or locking the front door; I just did it.
I went down to the lobby of my apartment and saw my neighbor Jodi and her son Leo. Leo was sixteen months old, with brown hair and green eyes. Every morning, they’d go to the lobby where the doorman and building staff would indulge him by chasing him around and making stupid noises. I wondered if they went home and told their wives how they spent the day entertaining little rich kids. I walked over and squatted down, “Hi Leo,” I said brightly. “Good morning.” He hid behind his mother’s legs and peeked around. This was the game we played every day. “Hmmm, Jodi. Where’s Leo?”
She played along and made exaggerated looking around gestures. “I don’t know. Where did he go?”
He came out and gave me a huge smile. I looked forward to it every day. “There’s Leo,” I said. “Hi Leo!”
He started laughing. “Hi. Hi. Hi.”
“Can I have a kiss Leo?” He gave me a kiss. I had realized that this was one of the perks of being Jessica. If I had even thought about this as Dan, I would have been arrested. I would’ve played with him and that would have been OK, to a point. But this freed me to do more and I liked it. I leaned down and gave him a kiss. “Thank you, Leo.”
Jodi laughed. “He jumps up and down every time he sees someone who looks like you, Jess,” she said in a tone that suggested “when are you going to have your own.” The doormen looked at me like I was already late to the game. I just laughed, knowing that I was trying to get into it.
I got to work and Mike stuck his head in my office. “Hey, Jess, got a second?” Of course, I had a second, I thought. You’re my boss. Do I have a choice?
“Sure, what’s up?” I said, a little nervously. He usually didn’t ask.
He smiled. “Relax. I have good news. We just got a new matter.” It was a condo development on Long Island. We were representing a developer in a suit involving buyers who wanted to be released from their contracts because the development was taking longer due to environmental reviews. I had researched this before and was as familiar with it as anyone. Mike must’ve recognized this because he said, “But the good news is you’re going to take the lead on this. You ready?”
I grinned. “Of course.”
He laughed. “Good, because you have no choice. Who do you want on this?”
I thought for a second. “Jake and Rachel.” I wanted to give her a chance to show what she could do. I wasn’t a big fan of Jake, even before. I felt like he thought he was the smartest guy in the room. I held to the theory that, if you thought you were the smartest guy in the room, you should find another room. Even still, he was smart and worked like a bulldog.
Mike smiled, “Really?”
I knew what he meant. “I know, but I think she can do the job. I’ll make sure of it.”
He laughed, “OK, if you think so. So long as it’s done right. What about Wonderboy?” This was our sarcastic name for him. Kevin, who thought he was great, called him “Marmalard,” the arrogant prick from ‘Animal House.’
“He’s talented - just ask him. But I can control him,” I said, with a smile.
“I have no doubt about that, Silverman,” he grinned. “The documents are on the system.”
He left my office and I leaned back. I was given the lead on a big matter. Maybe I wouldn’t have to move to Florida. Maybe I could do it here. I was excited and called Jess. “Hey honey, guess what?”
“What’s up? Kinda busy.” That was not the response I expected.
“Mike just made the lead on a big case. It’s a developer…”
She interrupted me. “That’s great,” she said, with genuine enthusiasm. “Can we talk about it later? Sorry, but I have this big meeting coming up with the Xaldor team.”
“OK, sure.” I was a little upset. She couldn’t take two minutes.
“I’m sorry, Jessa. I want to hear this. I just really have to get to this meeting. The double duty is killing me.” Jess was still leading the team while learning her new role with Bruce. “I promise you that tonight you will have my full attention.”
“Fine,” I sighed. “I love you. Go get ‘em.”
“I love you too,” she said and then she hung up. I thought for a second. I was upset that she didn’t listen, but then I thought about the number of times she used to call me at work and I had to get to court or work on a brief. Was I being unreasonable now or was I unreasonable then? I shook it off though. I had a big project and I needed to bring everyone in. No one cared about my angst.
I called in Jake and Rachel and explained the case. When I was finished, I asked, “Does anyone have any questions?”
Jake smirked, “I’ll take on the fraud complaint. Rachel, digest the contracts.”
“Excuse me, Jake?” I said.
He kept the smirk on his face. “I said I’ll take on the fraud complaint. Rachel can digest contracts. That makes the most sense.” I noticed that he never said, ‘I think that,” just ‘that.’ He believed he was right and was going to let the two girls know that.
I smiled.“Jake. I’ll tell you what makes the most sense.” I needed to put the little shit in his place now or he’d never be there. I had worked with too many arrogant pricks like him and they needed to be beaten down. If I were a guy, I could cut him in his face but that would be looked at as being a bitch now. I needed to be more subtle. “You and Rachel will be digesting contracts. I need to know every provision in there and you’re going to tell me.”
“Respectfully, that’s not the best use of my skills,” he said. When you start a sentence with respectfully, it’s like saying ‘no offense.’ You’re not respectful and it’s offensive.
I kept smiling, as painful as it was. “Jake, let me tell you what Mike,” emphasis on Mike, “always told me. Cases are won on details, not theories. We need to know what’s there because the plaintiffs are for damn sure going to know every phrase, every word, every comma. And I need to know,” and I looked him in the eye, my gaze never leaving his, “and Mike,” and I said that with special emphasis, “needs to know all of that. Jake, you’re a smart guy but you’re not as smart as you think you are. Did they do the Socratic method at your law school?” Rachel looked nervously between us.
“Huh?” He looked confused, which was good. I could still play the game. I just needed to change the method. Like a pitcher who lost speed off his fastball and learned a curve and a slider.
“Did. They. Use. The. Socratic. Method. At. Your. Law. School?” I said, enunciating each word.
“Yes,” he said.
“Well, then you know who Socrates is. Well, anyway, Chaerephon once went to the Oracle of Delphi and asked who the wisest man was. And he said Socrates. Know why?”
“I have to get back to work,” he said, in a haughty tone, though his eyes were darting. He was nervous.
“One second. I’ll tell you why. So he says Socrates and Socrates wonders why. And then he realized why. He thought about the smartest guy he knew. And he realized that he was wiser because, and I quote, ‘Well, although I do not suppose that either of us know anything really beautiful and good, I am better off than he is- for he knows nothing and thinks that he knows; I neither know nor think that I know.’ You don’t know what you don’t know and you need to know that. One day, you probably will but today is not that day. Now, if you don’t want to do the work, I’ll let Mike know and I’m sure he’ll find something else for you,” I said, with a smile.
He gritted his teeth, while Rachel kept looking at the floor. ‘Look up, dammit,’ I thought. ‘Cut in. Tell me that you’re ready to do what’s needed.’ She didn’t but Jake said, “I’ll start digesting.”
“Good. Get to work. I’m looking at the environmental aspects.” I smiled. “If you want to learn about them, get the May 2012 report from the New York State Bar. Page 21-24.”
Rachel said, “OK. Why that?”
I smiled. “I wrote an article on that. Published that month.” That got a smile from her and an eye roll from Jake, who got up and left. Probably already telling the other male associates how I was a total bitch. When I had worked for Victoria, a former associate never missed a chance to call her a twat and a bitch and a dyke. I wished that I had said something but, if I was being honest, it never crossed my mind until now.
As Rachel walked out, I stopped her. “Rachel, I’m counting on you.”
“Thank you?”
“I’m serious. I asked for you. I need you to do this for me. Don’t make me look bad.”
“OK?” She was driving me nuts with upspeak.
“First, what have I said about upspeak? Don’t upspeak unless you’re asking a question. You sound like, no offense, my niece. And I love her but she’s 12 and you’re here.” That was mean and if I did this as Dan, I’d be before HR in twenty seconds, except that Rachel was too much of a mouse to complain. “Second, I know you can do this. Do not let Jake tell you what to do. You answer to me on this. Me and Mike. That’s it. You’re as good as Jake is.” This was a lie. She wasn’t. He would, barring an implosion down the line, would be a partner somewhere in seven years. She, barring a change in, well, her, would not. But I needed her to believe that. I wanted her to be the best that she could be, for her. And for me. “You’re ready, right?”
“Uh huh,” she said, nervously.
“If you don’t feel you can do it, let me know. It will not reflect poorly on you.” Yes, it would.
“I can do it,” she said, as forcefully as I’d ever heard her.
“Good,” I smiled. “Show them what you can do. Now go.”
She left with a smile. I leaned back in my chair and felt proud of myself. For about ten seconds. Then I got back to my caseload.
I got home before Jess and changed into a t shirt and shorts. I played on the computer, going down the YouTube rabbit hole. Lately, I had found myself watching videos of babies and dogs. I had a favorite, where a baby was getting licked by a dog and, when the dog moved, the baby followed him to keep getting licked. Somehow, from there, I ended up on a clip of a little kid hitting his father in the groin with a Whiffle Ball bat. I wasn’t really paying attention when I heard the door unlock.
“Hey, Jessa,” Jess said, as she came over and gave me a kiss. “How’s my princess?” She had lately taken to greeting me that way, which felt weird. Not for the reasons you think, but because I remembered my father calling Laura that. It felt like I was a child. Not that Jess intended that, at least not consciously, but it still felt that way to me. “So tell me about the case.”
I explained the case and her eyes glazed over. Not that she didn’t care but it was rather complicated. Kind of like when she explained drug protocols to me. I was the Socrates of drug protocols. I knew that I knew nothing. Her eyes lit up when I told her that Rachel and Jake were working for me. Office politics, she understood. Sexism, she understood.
She laughed, “That’s why I love you Jessa. Always looking out for the underdog. I like that you want to mentor her for some reason, but is Rachel really the right choice? I mean she’s like this little nervous kitten.”
I paused, wondering if I had made a mistake in picking her. “It’ll be fine. She’s not going to do depositions or anything. She’s doing all the grunt work, digesting contracts, drafting memos, all that. No second year is ready for depositions. I wasn’t and she, no offense, isn’t the exception.”
“OK, just be careful.” She must’ve seen the look on my face because she said, “It’s great that you want to mentor her but just make sure that she doesn’t bring you down.”
“Bring me down?”
“You’re a woman and she’s a woman, well a girl at least, and I hate to say it but men protect their own. I thought I knew it before. I know it now.”
‘Great,’ I thought. “Don’t worry about me,” I said with mock cheer, that Jess clearly saw through. “I know how to take care of myself.”
She smiled and gave me a kiss. “I’m just looking out for my princess. So, what about Wonderboy?” I smiled and repeated the whole story, the Socrates included. Jess laughed. “God, you’re an intellectual snob.”
“What?”
“I think it’s safe to say that no one in my office has ever worked Cheerophon,” she said with uncertainty, not knowing who he was, “and the Oracle of Delphi into a conversation.”
“Yeah, well, I needed to put him in his place. I’m sure he went back and told the other male associates how I was a bitch and on the rag and everything.”
“Probably. Keep an eye on him though.”
I smiled. “I know. Beneath this beautiful exterior,” and I flicked my hair, “I’m still me.” Was I though?
Jess went into the kitchen. I heard the refrigerator door and then the fizz of a soda bottle top being opened for the first time. She came back in, holding a glass of Diet Pepsi.
“I thought we agreed no soda.” We didn’t agree. She begrudgingly sort of accepted it but too bad for her.
“Sorry,” she said, with a smile. “I forgot. One glass won’t hurt.”
I wasn’t happy but I wasn’t going to fight. “This is the last one.”
She kissed me on the cheek. “OK. I promise. I have to tell you what happened today. We were meeting with the Xaldor team and…” she proceeded to tell me about her day. And I listened. I used to wait to talk, now I listened. It was funny. I watched her. As she told the story, I could see little bits of Jessica coming out, in the way she added extraneous details and when she laughed, but she was really all Dan now. She used to begin every story with, “and I told them I thought,” or “I told them I believed.” Now, like Jake, it was just “I told them that” or “I told them I knew that.” On Jess, it didn’t bother me.
We ate our dinner - organic grilled chicken, barley and steamed spinach with garlic. It was as good as expected and I knew it was what I needed, but god it was bland. We had strawberries for dessert. I wanted to get pregnant so I couldn’t have a slice of pizza and some ice cream. We curled up on the couch and watched Netflix. I laid in the crook of Jess’ arm and I felt loved. We were always good, now we were better.
A little less than two weeks later, it was Sarah’s bat mitzvah. It was a split day affair - service and kiddush in the morning and a party at night. The party at night had a theme. Mine was basketball. Laura’s was movies. My father used to say, “You know my theme was? Bar mitzvah.” Sarah’s theme was “Sarah’s Beach Party.” The card said the attire was “Beach Party Chic.”
When we got the invitation, I called Jill, “Beach Party Chic? What in god’s name does that even mean?”
She laughed, “It means your niece wanted a beach theme and you know Yoram can’t say no to her…” I smiled, thinking of Jess and Emma. I wondered if she’d be able to handle a daughter.
I laughed, “Did you tell her she was getting bat mitzvahed in Westchester in March? What’s beach party chic? Polar Bear Club?”
She kept laughing. “Please, Jess. Do you know how many calls I’ve gotten from ha’aretz?” Whenever Jill was annoyed with Yoram’s family, she would call Israel by its biblical name, in an exaggerated and very phlegmy accent. “I’m afraid. Have you been to the beach in Israel? I’m afraid his uncle Shimon will show up in a Speedo.” Shimon, like many Israeli men, weighed 300 pounds and, with his shirt off, looked like a gorilla costume with no head. And he had no shame. I shuddered at the thought. Jill continued, “I’m sure you will look gorgeous. Besides ha’aretz, I have to deal with her honor. Please not you too. I’m begging.”
“You’re lucky I love you,” I said. And I did, in a way that I never did as Dan. I liked her, but I didn’t love her. She was just Jess’ sister, now she was mine. “Tell Sarah she’s lucky I love her,” I said. “No more calls, I promise.” In a bad Israeli accent, I said, “Jeel, Ma’zeh beach chic? (What is beach chic?)” In the end, I chose a blue, sleeveless fit and flare dress with a bubble print. Not 100% beachy, but it was in Lord and Taylor’s poolside collection, so close enough. Plus, I looked cute.
Chappaqua is about an hour north of the city, if traffic is running well. The service was for 9:30 in the morning. Rather than rushing around Saturday morning, we decided to stay over Friday night. We were staying over Saturday anyway, so we figured we’d make it a long weekend.
I had, as I promised myself, been taking my basal body temperature every day. We started around day twelve of my cycle, which was Wednesday, three days before the bat mitzvah. I wasn’t sure that we needed to do it the day of the bat mitzvah but (a) better safe than sorry and (b) there are worse things to do on a Saturday morning. I woke up at 7:00, took my temperature and shook Jess. “OK, up and at ‘em, you big stud. Time to impregnate me.”
She laughed and then pulled the pillow over her head. “Do we have to? I’m tired.”
If I were being honest, I was sore. But I wanted this. I pushed her and giggled, “Get up, you big baby.”
She laughed and unplugged our phones. She flipped mine to me. “Turn it off.”
“What?”
“Trust me.” The she hit the “Do not disturb” button on the room phone.
“What are you doing? Get over here.”
She jumped into bed and said, “You’ll thank me.” Then she started kissing my neck and nibbling on my earlobe. All these months later, she still remembered what worked. I started kissing her back. I bit her nipple, which used to drive me nuts and worked for her. “Oh g-d, Jess. Dig your nails into my back. Harder. Oh G-d.” She entered me and we made love. In Hebrew school, a teacher told us, in the seventh grade, that it was a mitzvah to have sex on Shabbos. That teacher was later fired, although he was correct according to religious law. I figured deliberately trying to make a baby on Shabbos was like a super mitzvah. I wasn’t sure how deeply I believed, but I’d take all the help I could get.
While I laid there with my legs up, Jess gathered up our phones and took off ‘do not disturb.’ I laughed and said, “What was that about?”
She smiled. “Turn on your phone.”
There were three calls from Evelyn on it. Jess had two and there was a voice mail on the hotel phone. The messages were increasingly annoyed. ‘I expect this from Dan, but not you, Jessica. Call me.’ “How did you know?” She looked at me like I was an idiot and just raised an eyebrow. “Point well taken.” I giggled, “If she knew why we didn’t answer, we wouldn’t have to go.”
Jess laughed. “We wouldn’t have to go? She’d post two court officers at the door to stop anyone. She cannot wait for you to have a baby.” Then she stopped and said, “Probably more than me,” and she sat down next to me.
I was still laying there, for another ten minutes at least. “That’s not true. She loves you. And it’s the same baby, just in reverse.”
She sighed. “No, it isn’t. You’re the mommy,” she said, leaning over and kissing my stomach. I had come to like this a lot, it felt intimate. “I know the genetics are the same and all, but it’s different. It’s going to be inside you. You’re the voice it will hear. You’re giving it life,” all of which scared me and made me feel alive at the same time. Then, she switched gears. “And that’s what she sees. Her smart daughter-in-law having her smart grandchild. Her smart daughter-in-law’s genes overpowering her dumb son’s…”
I patted the bed next to me. “Lie down.” She did, and rested her head on my chest. I stroked her hair. “That’s not true, Danny,” I said. “She loves you. I love you. The baby,” and I knocked three times on the night stand, “will love you. And your genes are perfect. Not as perfect as mine, mind you…” I joked. She laughed and leaned over and blew a raspberry on my belly. “Hey! Now, it’s going to get dizzy!”
She rolled back over. “Sorry. I’m just…”
“I know.” I looked at my phone. “Let’s have a court conference,” I sighed.
“Hi, Evelyn. Sorry about that. Well, my phone kept binging with e-mails last night, so I turned off the ringer so we could sleep. You’re right. Thank g-d nothing happened. I don’t know what’s up with Dan’s phone. I think he said IT was doing some kind of upgrade over the weekend,” Jess smiled and gave my lie a thumbs up. “Yeah, well, I don’t know what’s up with the hotel phone either. Dan! Did you put the phone on ‘do not disturb?’ I know Evelyn. They’re all hopeless.” Jess laughed and stuck out her tongue. “Well, anyway, what’s up? How was the flight? Oh, that’s good. I know I can’t believe it either. She was a baby” well, 4, “when I met her and now she’s a bat mitzvah. We’re proud of her too. When I called the other day,” Jill and I spoke a couple of times a week now, about life and stuff. Last time, it was to plan their next trip into the city. Sarah and I would spend the day together alone but Jill and Yoram didn’t feel comfortable letting a 13 year old take the train by herself, which I understood more and more. “I could hear her practicing. She sounds fine to me, not that I’d know if she got something wrong. Oh? I have a black dress with long sleeves for shul,” the Yiddish word for synagogue, “and then a blue sleeveless print for the party. I told you already, you live in Miami, you tell me what beach chic is. He’s wearing a Tommy Bahama shirt and khakis. He’ll bring over the nail file in a minute. Don’t worry. Everyone forgets something when they pack. I have to get ready. Love you. Marty too.” I got off the phone and Jess had a huge smile on her face.
“The baby is probably hiding in a corner of your uterus now,” she laughed. “Wow. Did it always sound that bad?”
“Yes,” I laughed. “Go bring your mother the nail file.” My phone beeped. The twenty minutes were up. I got up, slowly. I know it wasn’t going to fall out, but better safe than sorry. “I’m going to start getting ready.” I put on a shower cap and went into the shower. It had long since stopped feeling weird to me. If i wasn’t going to spend an hour and a half on my hair, this is what I needed to do. I turned on the shower and let the water wash over me, smiling and humming to myself. This time would be the charm. Thirteen years and nine months from now, I would be having an argument with Emma about her hair and her dress. And I was happy.
When I got out, Jess was sitting on the bed, watching the news stone faced. “Everything OK?” I said.
She shook her head. “Yeah, fine. I gave her the nail file. She gave me the business about turning off the phone. It was fine.”
I was wrapped in a towel and sat down next to her. “What happened?”
“They congratulated me on the job in person. Told me how proud they were and all that.”
“That’s good, right?”
“Yeah, I guess it just feels like they were told to do that.”
“That’s not true.” Well, it was sort of true. They were proud of him. Evelyn told me. And I told her to tell Jess that. “They are very proud of you.” I put my arm around her. “Come on. We are going to have a great time. And we,” and I knocked on the side of my head, “are going to have a baby and you are going to be president of the company and I am going to make partner and we are going to be happy. Dammit,” and I smiled.
She laughed, “What if I don’t want to be happy?” This was a running joke.
“Then, I will make you miserable until you’re happy. Now go. You smell.”
Jess went into the shower and I got ready. I kept humming to myself. I was happy. Jess was happy, I thought. It was all good. When Jess got out of the shower, I had put on my dress and was putting on my makeup. Like I told Evelyn, it was a black knee length dress with long sleeves and a v neck. Not my favorite look - I liked showing off my shoulders, what can I say? - but it was for synagogue. I remembered my mother lecturing Laura about covering her arms in shul. I was putting on eyeliner, when Jess came up behind me. Thankfully, I saw her in the mirror. “God you look gorgeous,” she said.
I turned around. “Thank you,” I said, pecking her on the lips. I always put on lipstick last for just such an occasion.
“I’m serious. You look beautiful. I am so lucky you’re mine.”
I blushed. “You don’t have to say that all the time, although it’s nice to hear. I’m lucky too.”
“I mean it. You’re beautiful and sexy and smart.”
“What brought this on?” I laughed.
“Today. I look at my parents and Jill and Yoram and I think I couldn’t do this without you. I walk in and I know that everyone is thinking, ‘he did something right. He has her.’”
“Stop. They think the same thing about me.” I hated the way Jess felt around her family. I hated that, even if they didn’t mean it, she felt inadequate around them. I put my hands on her upper arms. “You are amazing. You just got an amazing job and you are going to be amazing at it. You will have Bruce’s job in two years and he will be working for you,” I said, with a smile. “I love you.”
“Thanks,” she said. “Sorry I’m so crazy.”
“You’re not crazy.”
“You’re just saying that.”
I laughed. “Well, of course, you never tell a crazy person he’s crazy. Duh! Seriously, you are great. Come on, get dressed. We don’t want to be late.”
We got to synagogue at 9:00 AM, since the service was called for 9:30. It started at 10:00 because Jewish time. Everyone knows that it’ll be a half an hour late, but still they show around 9:30 because, ‘you never know.’ I’m fairly certain that we wandered the desert for 40 years because we got started late. Anyway, we were standing in the lobby saying hello to Jess’s various cousins as they came in. Jess’ Aunt Carole came over and opened with, “so when will you two be having a bat mitzvah?” as she looked me up and down. It was a stupid question, I thought. I debated saying, ‘if this morning went right, December 2030. Dan was an animal, so here’s hoping,’ but that was tacky in shul. I figured I’d save it for the party. I also wanted to say, ‘I had mine in 1996. You never responded,’ but why start something. Instead, I just said, “Hi Carole,” and I gave her a kiss. “It’s Sarah’s day. Let’s focus on that.” Carole congratulated Jess on the new job and we talked for a bit.
When Carole left, I whispered, “See, they are proud. They’ve told people.” Jess gave me a little smile and squeezed my hand. Various relatives came over and asked, “So, how ARE you two? What’s new?” After the tenth time, I wanted to print cards that said, “Fine. Dan got promoted. No, I’m not pregnant yet. Yes, we want them.” On the other hand, all of the women oohed and aahed over my weight loss, which made me feel really good.
Before we went in, Jess laughed. “You are such a girl.”
“No, I’m not.” Yes, I was.
“Please. Every time someone congratulates you, you smile and you do that thing where you bite your lip and move your right foot behind your left.” She leaned down and whispered to me, “Which I found incredibly sexy.”
I blushed, “We’re in shul…” I wondered if the mitzvah rule applied if you had sex in the youth room.
“Girl,” he smiled, surreptitiously pinching my ass. “Let’s go in.”
The service was a bat mitzvah service. Long and boring. I mean, it felt amazing to see Sarah standing on the bimah (the altar) becoming a bat mitzvah. As far as I could tell, she did everything right. She didn’t mumble or look like she made a mistake like I did at mine. When she saw us, she gave us a big smile and a little wave. Yoni sat in the front row in his suit, looking like he was on trial. We were called for the fourth aliyah, after both sets of grandparents and Yoram’s sister Aviva. An aliyah is a big honor. You get called up to give a blessing before a portion of the torah. There was no way we weren’t going to get one - we were her aunt and uncle - but I felt a special connection to Sarah. I knew she’d get called up at Emma’s. The cantor chanted our names. When you get called, they say your Hebrew name and then “ben” (son) or “bat” (daughter) of your father’s Hebrew name. It took me a second when I heard “Chava Ruchel bat Dovid,” Jess’ Hebrew name with my father’s. It reminded me of how far we had come.
I won’t bore you with the kiddush after services. What’s to say about bagels and dairy? The only interesting part was when Yoram’s sister Aviva came over. She was 34, an orthopedics fellow at Johns Hopkins - and unmarried. See if you can guess what was most important to her family. She came over and gave me a kiss. In an exaggerated Israeli accent, she said, “Jessica, you pregnant yet? Is there a problem? Make the baby for Marty and Evelyn already.”
I adopted a thick Bronx accent. “So, Aviva? Nu? Have you met someone? It’s all well and good about your job but,” and I spat three times, “you’re not getting any younger. A surgery won’t keep you company in your old age.”
She laughed and gave me another kiss. “Thank god you’re here. I can’t, I just can’t.”
“Please. Do I have something on my uterus? I mean they keep staring. So, what’s new?”
“Work. Well, that’s not new. But that’s it. You?”
Well, I hate to break this to you, but, if we’re lucky, this time next year you’ll be on your own. Emma will be too young for them to start on another one. “Same. I have a big trial, they put me in charge of two associates. They made me the lead,” and I looked around, “not that anyone cares. Except maybe the judge.”
“Congratulations,” she said. “That is amazing. Would I understand it?”
“About as much as I understand surgery probably. But, it’s a big deal. It’s a lawsuit over condos.”
“Still, that’s got to be huge for partnership.” Aviva intrinsically got it. She was a woman in a male dominated profession. She got it. I was still getting it, but she got it.
We stood around and chatted for a while. Yoram came over and gave me a kiss. “Uncle Yossi’s looking for you, Viv,” he said. “Sorry, Jess.”
She groaned, “See you at the party, Jess.”
The kiddush lasted for two hours. Jill invited us back to the house, but I knew she didn’t really want us. She had Yoram’s relatives who were enough. I begged off, saying that I wanted to rest and that my dress and everything was at the hotel. She smiled knowingly and gave me a hug. “Thanks, Jess,” she whispered. “You’re a great little sister.” I smiled and wiped away a tear. I was a great little sister. I shouldn’t have been so happy over a throw away comment, but I was.
We went back to the hotel, and met Marty and Evelyn for a drink. “I told Jill I wanted to rest,” Evelyn said, rolling her eyes. “But she doesn’t need us. She has the whole kibbutz there. They have enough money. They should get rooms.” If you couldn’t tell, Evelyn did not like Yoram’s family. She was OK with his parents, she loved Aviva (guess why) and said, “The rest of them, oy.”
Jess laughed. “They’re not that bad, ma.”
“Go watch basketball with your father. I want to talk to Jessica.”
Jess shrugged and walked away towards the other end of the bar, happy to get away. Over Evelyn’s shoulder, she mouthed, “Uh oh.”
I took off my shoes, under the table. I had worn 3 ½” heels. They looked good but they hurt sometimes. “Ah, that feels better,” I said. “What’s up?”
She smiled. “Nothing. I wanted to catch up in person. We won’t have time tonight. So, how’s everything going with the case?” She and I had been talking about since it started. I had called her to tell her when Mike put me in charge. She congratulated me and said, with a laugh, “this wouldn’t be a big deal to you if you were in Florida.” We didn’t talk about the case itself, more about managing it. “How’s everything going with Frick and Frack?” She had several nicknames for Jake and Rachel. Frick and Frack. Jack and Jill. The pig and the mouse. “Is she getting any better?”
I sighed. “I’m trying, but I’m starting to wonder already. She is just such a little mouse and everyone sees it. And don’t get me started on the upspeak….” She just smiled and rolled her eyes. I decided to let the similarities go unnoticed. “Anyway, I hate it but I don’t want her to jeopardize my possibilities. Is that wrong?”
She sighed. “No. I mean if you want the feminist answer, yes. If you want the realistic one, no. You need to work with her. Take her to lunch with Robin. Let her see what she can be.” I thought about it and she was right. Mentoring was modeling, not just talking. I liked talking to Evelyn more than my own mother. She remembered everyone and understood what I was going through. I felt bad that I couldn’t talk to mine. I thought about it and realized that I couldn’t remember if Jess and my mom ever talked like this either. “And the little shit?” He needed no name, like Voldemort.
I smiled. “He hates me. He’s doing a great job, which kills me, but he hates me,” I laughed.
“Good. I’ve seen his kind in my courtroom. You need to keep him in line. You’re the boss.”
“I don’t want to seen as a bitch,” I said.
“Oh god,” she moaned. “You too? It is not being a bitch to let someone know who’s boss. Men do it...”
“Hold on.” I smiled, “I didn’t say I wasn’t going to BE a bitch, just that I didn’t want to be seen as one.” Maybe I did get it.
“Good girl,” she said. “I’m proud of you. I still think you can do more in Florida…” she said with a smile.
“Stop it,” I said. “Thank you for telling Dan how proud you are of him.”
“We are proud of him,” she sighed.
“I know. But thank you for telling him today. I appreciate it.”
She half smiled and looked over at Marty and Jess. They were watching a game and not saying anything, which is exactly what I would have done, except that Jess would be sitting here with her shoulders hunched up, looking at me for support. OK, that sounded bitchy. It’s just that Evelyn wasn’t my mom. “Speaking of that, how’s everything with you two?”
“I told you. We’re happy. We’re better. No, we’re good.”
“Good. I’m happy. You look terrific,” she said. “Danny, too.”
“Thanks. I’m only a few pounds different from when we were down.”
She looked at me. “That’s not it. There’s something, I can’t put my finger on it. You seem happier, more at peace and it shows, not to sound all touchy-feely.” Touchy-feely was Evelyn’s favorite epithet. Social workers were touchy-feely. Kindergarten teachers were touchy-feely. Grown women were not supposed to be.
“I don’t what it is, but I’ll take the compliment.” I knew what it was. I was Jessa and I was happy. “Do you want to see the dress?”
She smiled, “I’d love to. Marty,” she called. “We’re going upstairs for a minute.” He and Jess waved, never taking their eyes off the set and passing corn chips between them. I was going to show my mother in law my dress and Jess was eating corn chips. What a difference a year makes.
The dress met with Evelyn’s approval. “That is gorgeous, Jessica,” she said. “It is you.”
“Thank you,” I said, turning this way and that, feeling the skirt swirl around me. “Is it beach party chic?” I was wearing it with 4” blue sandals. I wanted to wear my Louboutins but decided these were cuter. And beachier. Whatever that meant.
“I told Jill….”
“Oh come on,” I said. “Sarah only gets this once. ”
She smiled. “You are such a softie.” I smiled, thinking of how much Sarah reminded me of someone that I used to know. She called me at least twice a week, just to talk. I did the best I could, given that I was, at bottom, a former thirteen year old boy but it seemed to work. Jess would half-listen to the conversations and tell me that I didn’t give myself enough credit. She said, with a mix of bemusement and respect, that, I was better at being a 13 year old girl than she was. I still wondered how she’d respond to having a daughter. Evelyn showed me her dress. It was a blue knee length dress with a v neck and beading. “I’m the grandmother. I’ll wear what I want,” she said, laughing. “Besides, I can only imagine what they will be wearing. And Carole too.” Carole was Marty’s sister. She thought Evelyn was a stuck up intellectual snob (which made me shudder). Evelyn thought she was a moron who was only interested in gossip. She said that she hated those games and wouldn’t play (and made me shudder again). We sat on her bed and talked some more until Marty and Jess came up.
“Sorry, Jessica,” Marty said, giving me a kiss. “I need to take a nap before tonight.”
I smiled. “That’s fine, Marty. At your age, you need to rest,” I said, teasing him. If I had said that as Dan, he would have not been amused. Now, he just laughed and said, “Ah, go jump in a lake.” I gave Evelyn a kiss and said, “We’ll see you later.”
We walked back to the room and Jess said, “Well, you seem in one piece.”
“She’s fine,” I said. “She was giving me tips on Rachel and Jake. She liked my dress…” Jess smiled. I could hear ‘you all dress for each other’ in her head. “Then she said something weird. She said I seem happier, more at peace.”
“Aren’t you, Jessa?”
“I guess. Is it that obvious?”
She smiled. “Kinda. You look as happy as I’ve ever seen you. Me too, I think.” I nodded and she continued. “We’re us. I wouldn’t have guessed her for it but she’s right. You’re you. I’m me. We’re us. And it shows.”
“How was it with you and your father? Did you talk?”
She looked at me and raised an eyebrow. “Not really, no. He asked about work, that’s it.”
I went, “Oh yeah. Are you OK?”
She smiled. “Yup, I am. Wanna go take a nap?”
I just smiled and bit my lip, and moved my right foot behind my left. Then I remembered. I was sore and she was tired. Oh well. Instead, we just laid in bed and cuddled. I fell asleep on Jess’ bare chest, her arm wrapped around me.
The party started at seven and so we napped for a couple of hours. I woke up around 5:15 and started getting ready. Thank god for YouTube. I had learned how to do evening makeup. Once again, I polished and plucked and made up, while Jess slept. She was sitting on the bed in her khakis and shirt. The concessions to beach party chic for her were the shirt and a pair of sandals. “Zip me up,” I said.
“Wow,” she said. “You look gorgeous,” she said, picking me up and twirling me. Lately, whenever I wore a dress that flared out, she would pick me up and twirl me. There was a meaning here that I couldn’t figure out. I liked it but figured there was a subtext that I didn’t want to know probably.
“You like?” She leered and nodded, as I put on my heels. “Is it beach party chic?”
She laughed. “My princess.” I shuddered a little inside. Twirling, princess. Was I Jess’ helpless little girl? Did I want to be? I just smiled and went along with it. If I was right, I had three months max in this dress.
We were at the party, beach party chic meaning palm trees and beach pictures. Someone greeted us at the door with leis and pina coladas. I took a virgin one, telling Dan’s uncle Jerry that, “I was taking medication.” We were making idle chit chat with Jess’ relatives when a small Asian woman came over.
“Danny? Is that you?” I assumed this was someone from Jess’ past. Only old friends and relatives called her (well me, well her) ‘Danny.”
Jess laughed, “Hannah? I haven’t seen you since the wedding.” I stood there, looking from the woman to him and back. ‘Anytime, honey.’ Hannah smiled and nodded. “Hi, I’m Hannah Chen. I was Jill’s roommate at Dartmouth. Danny,” she said, with mock disapproval.
I laughed. “Hi, I’m Jessica, Dan’s wife. Nice to meet you.”
She looked me up and down. “Good job, Danny. Danny used to have a huge crush on me,” she said laughing.
Jess turned red, although I don’t know why. It wasn’t him that had it. It was me. Well, it wasn’t me. I didn’t know her. It was neither of us.
Jess said, “I did not.”
She turned to me. “Ohmigod, he so did. I remember he came up his junior year, right Danny,” as Jess nodded, looking confused. “And he was totally trying to hit on me. It was so cute.”
I winced for Jess. There is nothing more painful than hearing your game is ‘cute.’ Puppies are cute. Babies are cute. Game? Uh no. Still, I tortured her. I hooked my arm into hers and looked up. “Oh Danny, that is so adorable.” I turned to Hannah. “Well, I am so grateful that you didn’t realize how wonderful he was. Otherwise, I would never have met him,” and I gave her a kiss on the cheek.
“Haha, you two,” she said, still blushing. “I don’t need this. Who wants a drink? I do!”
She laughed again. “Well, anyway, Danny. You have,” and she dropped her voice, “grown into a fine man. Get me a vodka tonic, please.”
“Same,” I said, giving Jess a wink. We had already decided that I’d drink club soda. You could pretend it was anything. Jess walked away, the redness fading away, shaking her head.
I burst out laughing. “That was hysterical. Seriously, a crush?” I shouldn’t have been laughing. I had a crush on Laura’s friend Lisa when I was 16. She was totally cool about it, but still it hurt to be treated like a little kid. But, that was then and so, “What did he do?”
“Oh, he tried to do what I liked. Told me how pretty I was. It was kinda cute. Really dorky but kinda cute.” Jess came back with the drinks. Hannah smiled and said, “Thanks Danny. I’m going to go say hi to your mom. Nice meeting you, Jessica,” and she walked away.
“Her, huh? I would not have guessed.”
She laughed. “OK, that is surreal. I mean I went up to visit Jill junior year but I totally did not have a crush on Hannah. I mean I had a girl crush. She was so cool. Huh. That is so weird.” It was and I just nodded.
The bat mitzvah went on for five hours. I spent half of it dancing, mostly in a group with other women. Not for religious reasons. Just that, at every bar or bat mitzvah, you’d have the hora that everyone did; the requisite slow couples’ dances; and the rest was women dancing together to fast numbers. Well, mostly. There was always one couple that would get their freak on, arms and legs flying. I was envious of them. I would never have had the confidence to utterly embarrass myself like that. The DJ handed out sunglasses and feather boas, which I happily put on when Sarah asked. I would never have been caught dead doing that as Dan, but found myself enjoying it. I danced for awhile and then Jill said, “Come here. I have some people I want you to meet.” She took by my arm to a group of women, all of whom appeared to be in their 40s. They had the toned bodies of women exercising to outrace aging, but the tired eyes of the busy suburban mom. I didn’t mean that the way it sounded. I hoped I looked that good. “Carrie, Andrea, Elissa, this is my sister, well my sister-in-law but she’s like my sister, Jessica.” I smiled, happy about the relationship. “Jessica, these are Carrie, Andrea and Elissa. We met when the girls were in preschool.” That made sense. I always saw groups of moms with little kids at the Starbucks near me. The moms would sit, while the little boys climbed and the little girls colored.
“Hi,” I said, as they all looked me up and down. “It’s very nice to meet you all.”
Andrea said, “I love your dress. I take it you don’t have children.” She smiled, a fake smile that she hoped I’d miss. I didn’t.
“Um, not yet.”
Jill flashed her a look. “Sorry,” she said. “I’m just jealous. It’s three kids since I could wear that. Enjoy it.” Then a look flashed on her face and she smiled, a genuine smile. “Oh wait, you’re the famous Jess.” The other women laughed knowingly.
“Um…” I said. “Famous?”
Carrie laughed. “Sarah does not stop about her aunt Jess. You are, and I quote here, ‘the coolest aunt like ever.’ Not ever, just like ever.’
Elissa said, “Oh, and thanks for buying her that pocketbook. Julia has not stopped.” In a singsong voice, she said, “Jess has a Dooney and Bourke pocketbook.” She laughed and said, “I told her, in the future, to make a more judicious choice of aunt.”
I smiled, “Sorry.”
Jill laughed, “No you aren’t.”
I laughed. “OK, I’m sorry that they have to listen. I have one niece, sue me.”
Andrea said, “Don’t get me started on how she comes into the city every month. I don’t have time for that.”
I wanted them to like me, so I said, “Um, if they come in, I’ll take them.” They all burst out laughing, loud enough that their husbands turned around. “What?”
Carrie laughed and took my hands in hers. “You. Are. An Idiot.”
“What?” I said. “I can totally handle it.” How hard could it be? “Sarah’s coming in in two weeks. I’m serious.”
Jill smiled. “Have you forgotten what it was like to be 13?” Well, kind of. I mean I was 13. I was a boy. But I was 13. If you had left us at Best Buy to play Xbox, we would’ve been fine. That and gave us money for pizza. How hard could it be?
Fast forward two weeks.
“Fuck,” I said, when I woke up Friday morning. “Fuck fuck fuck,” I screamed. I had my period. “Shit!” I started to cry.
Jess came into the bathroom. “What’s wrong?” I didn’t speak. I just held up the wad of toilet paper. She just snarled, “Dammit!”
I stood up and cried. Jess held me and I cried into her shoulder, my panties around my ankles. I didn’t bother pulling them up. I just cried. “How?” I screamed, my words muffled by her shoulder. “How the fuck did this happen? How? What else can I do?”
She just held me. “It’s going to be OK. It will happen. You said the odds were one in three.”
She didn’t mean anything by that. She was trying to comfort me. By saying the exact wrong words. “You’re quoting odds at me? Seriously?” I started pounding my fists into her. “I get my period and you quote fucking odds? Goddamit, what is wrong with you?” And I cried some more. To her credit, she just held me and said, “I’m sorry.”
I walked over to the bed, fell face forward and started pounding my fists. “This is just not fair. It is just not fucking fair. Why? Why?” After fifteen minutes, I was cried out. Jess was on the couch. I walked over and gave her a kiss, “I’m sorry. I know you didn’t mean anything by it, it’s just.” I started to tear up and stopped myself. “No. No. No. No. I’m not going there again.”
She took my hand, “It’s OK if you do. It’s all OK.”
My eyes were red and I sniffled. “Is it?”
She looked at me and said, “It is. It’s going to happen, I promise you. Do you want me to call Jill and reschedule?”
Shit. Sarah and her friends were coming in tomorrow. It was the last thing I needed. I needed to sit on the couch and eat salt and vinegar potato chips (which, by the way, I used to hate but loved once a month now) and sulk, but I wasn’t going to do that to Sarah and her friends. I needed to be the cool aunt. I looked at Jess, “No, of course not. What did you tell me that first month? Man up? Life can’t stop just because of my period.”
She looked at me and said, slowly, “OK, I just…”
“I know. It will be fine.” Free piece of advice - it will not be fine. Taking four thirteen year-old girls around the city is not fine. It’s occasionally fun, incredibly trying and a sociology paper writ large. It is not fine.
Saturday morning at 11 AM, Carrie brought the girls to my house. Sarah and her friends Emily (Carrie’s daughter), Chloe (Andrea) and Lily (Elissa). It was 11 and it looked like she had already gone ten rounds. She smiled, “You have a beautiful apartment. It reminds me of the place Rich and I used to have when we lived here. Before the kids,” she said, with a wistful smile.
“Thank you. Can I get you coffee or anything?”
She smiled. “Is it 5:00 somewhere? I could use a drink.”
I got worried. “Were they, uh, that bad?”
She laughed. “You’ll see. Nah, they were them. I’m headed to the old country, Flushing, from here.” Carrie was Asian. Flushing used to be Italian and Jewish, now it’s Asian. Immigration in America - the Lower East Side, then Queens, then the suburbs. “See my mom,” she said, with the most deliberately fake smile I had ever seen.
I laughed. “Deep cleansing breaths. Serenity now,” I said, taking one. I winced.
She looked at me, “Are you OK?”
“It’s the second day,” I said. I no longer felt awkward talking about my period. Women traded pregnancy and period stories like men talked about sports.
She looked at me, wide eyed. “You could have canceled.”
I smiled, looking over at the girls. They were all sitting on the couch, looking at their phones. “We will be fine. Anything I should know? Things they can buy, things they can’t. Fake IDs, drugs, any of that?”
She laughed. “I think Andrea said no makeup. Elissa said no revealing clothing. Use your judgment on that. No drugs for Emily. They charge way too much here. I can them for like half in Queens,” she said, with a grin. “Are you really sure?”
“Yes,” I said. I was sure. I shouldn’t have been but I was.
She turned to the girls and said sharply, “Girls! Look up! You’re going to behave, right?” The girls all said, ‘yes,’ in unison. “What Sarah’s aunt says, goes. She’s like your mom today, got it?” They all nodded. I had four 13 year old daughters. I wanted one baby and I had 4 teenagers. “I am going to get a full report when I come back and I speak for everyone when I say that it better be good. You better behave, better than you do with us, or you are in trouble.” They all smiled sweetly. She turned to me and chuckled, “You’re sure about this?”
I laughed, “When you say it like that...no I’m sure.”
She smiled and typed her cell in my phone. “If you need me, call me. In fact, around 2, call me with an emergency,” she said, with a laugh. I knew what she meant.
I smiled. “2, that’s optimistic.”
She laughed and said, “If I’m in luck, there’s a pileup on the L.I.E.” She gave me a kiss and said, “Thanks and good luck.”
I smiled. “OK, girls, so what do you want to do?”
Emily piped up. “Can we go to SoHo?” They all nodded along and said, “Yeah, SoHo.”
“Sure,” I said. “That sounds like fun. We’ll go to SoHo and then get lunch. OK?” They all smiled. “So, put back on your coats. We’ll walk up to the train and head down.”
Lily said, “Is that safe? My grandma says it’s not safe.”
“It’s fine.”
“She said that she got mugged on the subway when she lived here.”
“When did she live here?”
“Before my mom was born?” She upspoke. Sarah looked at her and then me, wondering how she could tell her friend to stop that. ‘Don’t bother,’ I thought. ‘I can live for an afternoon.’
“And how old is your mom?”
“Um, 43?” ‘Great,’ I thought. ‘Your grandmother thinks it’s ‘The Taking of Pelham 1-2-3.’ The original with Walter Matthau, not the crappy Denzel-Travolta one.
“It’s changed since then,” I said. “I take it every day to work. It’ll be fine.” We walked to the train at 59th Street, the girls in front of me. They were talking and giggling. Every woman we walked past looked at them, looked at me and shook their heads. We walked past H & M.
Chloe squealed, “Can we go in? Pleeease.” God, she had a squeaky voice, even by teenage girl standards. I pitied her first boyfriend.
“Why don’t we go to the one in SoHo? There’s much cooler stuff there,” I said. I had no idea. I was too old for H & M. It was, as a client in the industry called it, “one season cheap crap” and made for girls in their teens and twenties. Anyway, Chloe said, “OK, promise?”
“Yes, I promise,” I sighed. We took the train to Spring Street. Due to the inevitable weekend trackwork, the express was running on the local line, which meant it was packed. I had to explain to them that they needed to not sprawl out. Everyone was giving me dirty looks. Three teenage boys got on the train, about 14. The girls looked at them and giggled. The boys, all arms and legs and protruding Adam’s apples, looked them up and down, trying to decide if they were worth it. I moved over near the girls and looked at the boys and gave them a tight smile. ‘Not on my watch, boys,’ I said, with my eyes. ‘I know your game. And they’re 12.’
We started off fine and then we saw Ricky’s. Ricky’s is a chain of makeup and hair care supply stores for teenage girls and their mothers who were denying reality. I never told Jill, but Sarah and I went whenever she was in. We’d try on makeup together. I never thought I’d enjoy that but there was something about the pleasure she took that was infectious. “Can we go in, Aunt Jess,” Sarah said.
“I don’t know. I think Chloe’s mom said no makeup…”
“Pleasepleaseplease,” they all said. “We just want to try it on. We’ll wipe it off, we promise.”
Sarah whispered in my ear. “Please, Aunt Jess. It would be so cool. I told them how we did it and they think it’s really cool. Please.” The pleading look made me fold. She just wanted to be cool. I thought about it and said, “Fine. But it goes off before we get home. Deal?” Like a good lawyer, I decided Carrie said they couldn’t buy makeup, not try makeup.
The girls went it and started playing with the tester blushes and nail polish. I drew the line at lipsticks and eyeliners, not wanting them to get god knows what kind of infection. They were playing when a nineteen year old salesgirl came over and said, giggling, “Here are some tester lipsticks. Don’t worry mom, they’re new.”
Ouch. Bitch. “I’m her aunt,” I said. “These are her friends.”
She rolled her eyes. “Whatever. Have fun girls.” The girls had a blast trying on everything. They looked like they went to junior high at Jodie Foster Junior High (think Taxi Driver) but I figured it was all in good fun. Then, they all took out their phones and started taking pictures.
“What are you doing?”
Lily looked at me and gave me a look of utter contempt. “Instagram?”
“Um, do your moms follow you?”
“Yeah,” she said, with contempt.
“Hey, Chloe,” I said. “What did your mother say about makeup? Do you want her to call Carrie now?” I saw four lights go on, then four hands start deleting. “I want you to have fun but do you want me to get in trouble?”
“Nooo.”
“Good,” I smiled. “You look ridiculous.”
“Mrs. Silverman,” Lily said, laughing. “You should totally try some with us.”
I laughed. “I think I’m a little too old for this stuff.” I was. I shopped at Sephora. Yes, I had a preferred place to buy makeup. I had my period and I bought makeup. While Jess was playing basketball.
“Come on, Sarah’s aunt,” Emily said. “Please.” I let them put some blush and sparkly pink and blue nail polish on me. I was due for a manicure anyway. They were all so giddy that I couldn’t help but giggle too. OK, I can do this, I thought. They found the breast enhancers and started giggling. They were holding them up to their chests. Chloe told Sarah, “You don’t need any.” Sarah looked like she wanted to cry. I looked at her and she gave me a pleading look that said, “don’t get involved.”
I debated what to say. With a boy, I would have said something like, “you stare at other guys?” and that would have been it. This required finesse. I wanted to say, “Hey, bitch, I invited you and you did this?” Instead, I went with, “Chloe, please…”
She looked at Sarah and said, with utter insincerity, “I was just kidding, right Sarah?”
“OK,” she said, hunching down. While Chloe went with Lily to find a nail polish, I whispered to Sarah, “She’s just jealous of us. Hello, does she even need a bra?” Sarah giggled and said, “Stop it.”
Then, Lily, Emily and Sarah all bought some nail polish. “No fair!” Chloe whined. “Come on. That’s not fair.” Neither is making fun of your friend, I thought. Serves you right.
Emily said, “It’s not our fault that your mother won’t let you buy it.”
“Stop it!” Chloe whined. “That’s mean. When your mom wouldn’t let you buy that shirt, I didn’t buy one. I can’t believe you would do this.” I couldn’t believe I was listening to this. I looked at Sarah who looked back at me, begging me not to get involved. Chloe looked at me like she wanted to. I sighed, “Let’s just get this done. Chloe, we will find something for you at H & M, OK?” She gave me a look that acknowledged that she had no choice.
Lily, Emily and Sarah all giggled and compared their nail polishes, while Chloe stewed. Sarah eventually said, “you can totally try it at my house. Sorry your mom won’t let you.”
Chloe looked at me. “I didn’t hear anything,” I said, with a smile. Why was I trying to get teenage girls to like me? I needed to think like a mom, not a girl.
We walked in and out of stores, the girls trying on clothes. It was adorable, the way they’d go in and out of dressing rooms, oohing and aahing at each other. Sarah found a cute slip dress. It was $50. I could see her looking through her wallet. “Next time,” I whispered, with a smile. “Not now. I can’t afford all four of you.”
Emily came out, wearing a denim skirt. She looked really happy when Lily and Chloe said, “Ick.” I mean it wasn’t great. Sarah had told me Emily played field hockey and she had big thighs, but it wasn’t “ick.”
Her face fell. “What’s wrong with it?”
“It makes you look fat,” Chloe said. I didn’t like her. I didn’t like her mother at the bat mitzvah and she was a miniature version of her.
Sarah looked torn. She wanted to help Emily but she didn’t want to get in the middle. She really was Jess. Then, she made me proud. She went over to a rack and found another skirt. “Ohmigod, this would be so much better and it’s on sale.” That’s my girl, I thought. I was proud of her. And it was better. She had been listening to me.
We went to H & M and it was Lily’s turn to suffer. She tried on a skirt that was way too short. “Um, no.”
“You can’t tell me what to do.”
“Oooh,” my three girl Greek chorus said.
I thought, ‘yes I can.’ Then, I thought, ‘that’s your best?’ “You’re right. I can’t,” I said.
She stopped. “What?”
“I can’t,” I said, taking out my phone and holding it up.
“What are you doing?”
“Taking a picture. Sending it to your mom. If she says OK, it’s OK. And you said she’d say OK, so here we go.”
The other girls giggled. She snarled, “Fine.” I felt bad, she was so gullible. I found a slip dress with a t shirt under it. “Try this on. It’s way cuter.” Way cuter? Whatever, she tried it on and was happy. This won me points with the other girls who kept asking me what I thought, even Chloe who said, “Sarah, your aunt is cool.” Sarah and I smiled.
We were walking out of the store to go get lunch when Emily said, “Mrs. Silverman, you should totally try that dress.” She pointed at an off white lace dress with long sleeves. “You would look totally hot in that.”
Did Jess send you I thought? “I don’t know.” It was cute. I never shopped here but it was cute. I was a little worried about wearing a white dress on my second day but crossed my fingers.
They all said, “Come on. Pleease.”
I couldn’t resist them. I went into the dressing room and tried it on. It fell to mid thigh. I liked the way it looked. I felt feminine which, given my period, was in short supply. Not that I didn’t feel female. With every cramp, I felt female. But I didn’t feel feminine. I came out and the girls all said, “You look so hot. You totally have to get it.” I smiled and gave in. It made me feel good.
That lasted for ten minutes. “Can we go to Sugar Factory for lunch?” Sarah said. She and I went there once. It was loud. It was bright. They served neon colored drinks and crappy food and Sarah loved it.
“What’s that?” Emily said.
Sarah bubbled. “I told you about it. It’s the place with the really cool drinks and stuff. It’s really fun.”
Lily said, “It sounds fattening.” Lilly weighed approximately 15 pounds. She looked like a lollipop stick with a head.
“They have a lot of stuff there,” I said. “Don’t worry.”
“Uh huh,” she said, unconvinced.
The Sugar Factory was north and west. I figured we’d walk up, it was a nice day. I forgot that these were suburban kids, taking from door to door by SUV. I had trained Sarah that it was OK to walk, but not these three. We had walked about twenty blocks, a mile, when Chloe whined, “How much farther? My feet hurt.” It’s further, not farther, I thought.
She was wearing flip flops. Someone should have told her not to wear flip flops. It’s April, for chrissake. “Not that much further.”
“Well, my feet hurt. Why can’t we take a taxi? I’ll pay.” You impudent spoiled little shit, I thought.
“Thanks but no thanks.” Just then, my phone rang. It was Carrie. “Hey Carrie, are you surviving?”
She sighed. I knew what that sigh meant. Jess used to sigh like that. I sighed like that now. Then she laughed, “Are you? Should I call your mother-in-law and apologize?” I knew what she meant.
“They’re fine. We’re going to lunch.”
“OK. 4 o’clock?”
Yes, yes, yes. Sooner, if you want. “That’s fine.”
“It’s almost over,” she laughed.
We ate lunch. The girls drank martinis. No, not those kind. Giant alcohol free chocolate and banana and berry martinis. But they acted like they were real, pretending to be grown up. I smiled, sipping my iced tea and thinking, “you spend your childhood wishing you were an adult. Now, I’d give anything to go back.”
The girls ordered lunch. For girls that were so focused on weight, they ordered red velvet pancakes and nutella crepes and sliders. And they split them. Jesus, it starts early I thought and then I realized their moms did it too. I picked at a salmon salad, which was the healthiest thing on the menu. Which was like being the captain of the sub-Saharan bobsled team.
We finished up and went back to the apartment. When we came back, Jess was in a t shirt and shorts. The girls looked him up and down. He was drying his hair, having clearly just finished showering. “Hey girls,” he said. “Did Jessa show you a good time?” They all giggled and looked away. Jess gave them a big grin, clearly enjoying the attention. He gave me a kiss, which made them giggle more. He whispered in my ear, “Did YOU have a good time?” I smiled and groaned.
“Hey Sarah,” he said, giving her a kiss. “Are you going to introduce us?”
She beamed. “These are Chloe and Emily and Lily. This is my uncle Danny. He’s my mom’s brother.”
“Hi,” they all said, giggling some more. Then, they all looked at their phones until Carrie got there.
Carrie came in. “We had bets on when you’d break,” she said, laughing.
“I came close. The drama.”
She smiled. “Remember that age?” No, not really. Talk to Jess, I mean Dan. “Do I want to know?” That seemed the key to parenting. Deliberate ignorance.
“No. Really, they were fine.”
“So next week,” she said, grinning.
I took out my phone. “Oh, shoot. We have plans until...they go to college.”
“Em behaved?”
“SHE was fine.” She looked over at Chloe and raised an eyebrow. I just smiled. She reminded me of what my friend Matt’s father used to say to his sister - you’ll make someone a fine ex-wife some day.
“OK, girls,” she said. “You have taken advantage of Mrs. Silverman enough. Let’s go. Say thank you.”
As the girls left, they each said thank you and gave me a kiss. When the door closed, I fell onto the couch and put my hand on my forehead. I groaned.
“That bad,” Jess asked.
I recounted everything and she said, “Yup, that’s about right.” I told her what Sarah did with Emily and Chloe and she kissed me. “She’s lucky to have you.”
“Huh?” I was too tired to think.
“You’re a great role model for her. You’re really helping. Jill told me at the bat mitzvah. You’re a great aunt. You’ll be a great mom,” and she laughed, “assuming today didn’t kill you.”
“We’ll only have one at a time, right?”
She kissed me again. “Well, if we have four, you can give birth in a box under the table, like a dog.” I swatted her and she said, “Oh, shoot. One of the girls left her bag,” and she pointed at the H & M bag.
“No, that’s mine.”
“H & M? Since when?”
“Since four 13 year-old girls made me.”
“We’ve discussed peer pressure,” she said, laughing.
I took the bag and went into the bedroom. “If you don’t like it, I’ll return it.” I put on the dress and a pair of white sandals and came out.
The smile on her face said it all. “That is perfect. I love you, Jessa. Next month.”
‘Next month,’ I thought.
The saga of Dan and Jessa continues
Jessa learns that sometimes to get what you want you have to let go....
Thanks as always, Lizzy Bennet for your comments and kind words.
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Saturday morning. We were going to brunch with Michelle and Amanda at a restaurant a couple of blocks from their place. We were first so we gave our name to the hostess. There was a wait for a table so we went to the bar for a drink. I knew that I wasn’t pregnant so I had a mimosa. It had been a long week and I needed a break. Jess looked at me and I just said, “not today, OK? It doesn’t really matter today, does it? Who knows maybe it’ll help?” She put her hand on my shoulder and it felt like a reproach.
Michelle and Amanda walked in. I looked in Michelle’s eyes. I could see the smile in them. I nodded. She nodded and smiled. “Ohmigod, that’s so amazing!” I gave her a huge hug. I was happy for her. I was miserable for me but she was my best friend, so I resolved to be happy. “Mazel tov. Mazel tov, Amanda.” Yes, mazel tov. To my Black friend and her Italian wife. Whatever.
Jess gave Michelle a kiss and Amanda a hug. “Mazel tov, guys.”
Michelle took out her phone. “I told her she couldn’t tell her until I told you.” She grinned, “it has been absolutely killing her.”
“Tell her to tell her that we’re at brunch, so she won’t bother me.” Michelle didn’t say anything. She just looked at me like I was an idiot. Which, thinking about it, I was. Fifteen minutes later, my phone buzzed. “I’m surprised it took that long.”
Amanda laughed, “Well, they had to go through everything first. ‘So, then, Michelle told me that she couldn’t handle the smell of oranges which I thought was ridiculous although when I was pregnant with Charlie I couldn’t handle pomegranates which wasn’t a problem because it’s not like there were that many places in the county serving pomegranates….”
“Shhh,” I said, laughing and picking up my phone. “Hi ma. Yes ma. I know she is. She’s right here. Yes, she looks beautiful.” Michelle started making beauty queen moves. “She seems OK. She can’t stand oranges.” Everyone was laughing and making faces at me. Michelle was twirling her hand in the air in the ‘come on Barb’ gesture. I started laughing. “Nothing ma. Something in the restaurant. We’re at brunch. It’s rude to talk on the phone in a restaurant. Yeah, hang on,” I said, handing the phone to Michelle. “She wants to talk to you.”
“Hi Barb. Thank you. Fine. Tired. Yes, she told me about the pomegranates. Corned beef, huh? That’s really interesting,” she said, as she mimed, shooting herself. “Yes, I’m getting enough rest. Amanda’s fine. Barb says mazel tov Amanda. Hi Dave. Thank you. Thank you. Dave says you have to be nice to me, Mand.” Amanda looked at Jess, smiled and shook her head. “OK, well, anyway, Jess will call you back. Thank you. I love you too.” She hung up the phone.
“So,” I said, in a tone that I hoped sounded only mock-angry, “why did you wait until now to tell me? I mean you told HER first.”
She knew exactly who I meant, and played along, “She is my MOM. Come on.”
Under the table, I fidgeted with the hem of my dress. “Oh fine. You know she was a much bigger risk to talk than I was. But, fine, go with that whole ‘she gave birth to me’ bullshit,” I laughed. It felt forced to me, but no one seemed to notice. I took a sip of my drink. I would have sworn that I saw Michelle give Jess a look. “Seriously, Shell, how are you feeling?”
She laughed. “Seriously tired. And seriously I can’t stand the smell of oranges, so you have two choices - move seats or switch to something else. That or I’m going to puke on you.”
I smiled. “It won’t be the first time.” She came to visit me in Madison once. My friends were so impressed with my hot Black female friend. Well, until she had her first Hairy Buffalo punch and puked all over Bascom Hill. I gulped half of the mimosa and motioned over the waitress, “Can I switch to a bloody Mary? Sorry, but my friend here is pregnant and can’t handle the smell of oranges.” The waitress congratulated her and went to get my drink. Under the table, Jess squeezed my knee and not in a good way. I gave her hand a hard squeeze, as if to say, it’s one drink. Or maybe one and a half, if you counted the mimosa, which I didn’t.
The conversation was basically the same as it was with Sammie. Michelle talked and I oohed and aahed at all the right places. Said how excited I was to be Aunt Jessica. Jess and Amanda listened and smiled. When we were almost through with brunch, Michelle said, “Excuse me, but I have to go pee, which you better get used to when we go out from now on. Hey, Jess, come with?”
We went to the bathroom and Michelle said, laughing as she washed her hands, “Peeing all the time sucks, you know.”
I looked at myself in the mirror and said, involuntarily, “yeah, well…”
Michelle looked horrified. “I am so sorry, Jess. I didn’t mean that.”
I gave her a hug, “I know. And I shouldn’t have said anything. So we’re even,” I said, with a smile that hopefully didn’t look too forced.
It did, because she looked concerned. “How’s it going?”
“Well, I’m drinking, so that should give you an idea.” I hated this. I hated it. I hated that she was pregnant and I wasn’t. I mean, I didn’t hate that she was. I was happy for her. But I hated that I wasn’t. And I hated that she caught me.
“It’s going to happen. It will. It’s only been what two, three months? That’s nothing.” It was three.
“Yeah, well, you got pregnant on the first try.” They had to postpone the first try because Michelle got the flu. She wasn’t happy but I guess it didn’t matter now.
She rolled her eyes, “yeah, with a centrifuge and a turkey baster. It’s like cheating. I mean you have to do it THAT way. Ewww, gross,” and she made a ‘yuck’ face from when we were kids.
That made me laugh, for real, thinking of when we were little. “Freak. Seriously, I am really happy for you guys.”
She smiled and gave me a kiss. “I know you are, Jess. It’s going to happen. Soon. And besides you get to keep trying,” she laughed.
“Yeah, yeah. Don’t tell Dan.”
We walked home, hand in hand. “Are you OK, Jessa?”
I didn’t look at her, “I’m fine.”
“You were drinking.”
“I wasn’t drinking. I had a drink. And some of a mimosa. That’s hardly drinking,” I said, making air quotes. I hated people who made air quotes. It struck me as lazy and insulting, like you couldn’t do a sarcastic tone or assumed that people wouldn’t get it.
“Sorry. I guess you just haven’t in awhile. Anyway, you can be upset. It’s OK.”
She was trying to help, but I wasn’t interested. I wanted to feel bad for myself and about myself. “Thanks for permission,” I snapped.
“I didn’t mean it that way, you know.”
Now I felt bad about this too. “I know. And I’m happy. But now I’m just going to hear about it for the next six months.”
She turned me to face her. “It’s not going to be six months. It’s going to happen. Soon,” she said. “It will.” I wanted to believe her, like I wanted to be happy for Michelle like I was for Sammie. But I didn’t believe her and I wasn’t happy, at least not in the way that I thought I should be. I started to feel nauseous. I could feel the bile rising in my throat, but choked it back down. She caught me and said, “Are you OK, Jessa?” with true concern.
“I’m fine,” I lied. “Must’ve been something I ate.” I had a frittata with gruyere cheese, not exactly the stuff of nausea, so Jess just raised an eyebrow at me. “Or it was the alcohol. You know, I was drinking and all,” I said, with an edge.
We walked home the rest of the way in silence.
We got home and I went into the bedroom, “to take a nap.” I wasn’t tired and didn’t even try to sleep. I just laid in bed, staring at the ceiling and feeling sorry for myself. I looked at my dresser and saw the prenatal vitamins. It felt like they were staring at me. I wanted to throw them away and never think about them again, but knew that I’d just be back at the store tomorrow. Instead, I put them in a drawer. I looked at myself in the mirror. I was wearing a pink floral minidress and sandals that everyone said made me look “really cute.” I wasn’t in the mood for cute right now. I took everything off and put on a t shirt and shorts and laid back down.
I put my face in the pillow - and cried. And cried. And cried until I passed out. At about 4:30 PM, Jess came in. She gently shook me. “Hey, honey, wake up.”
“Huh? What?” I looked at my phone. “I didn’t realize I was that tired. Sorry.”
“Don’t worry about it. I wouldn’t have woken you except we have the thing tonight with the managers and dinner’s at 6:15, because of the show.”
‘Fuck,’ I thought. We had dinner with the managers from Stone’s Southern district tonight. We were eating dinner at some Italian restaurant in the theater district, and then seeing “Natasha, Pierre and the Great Comet,” which my parents had seen. It was an immersive experience where some of the audience was on stage at tables drinking vodka, while the play swirled around them. My mother loved it; my dad said, ‘it was loud.’ To be honest, I was not a fan of musicals. People randomly breaking out into song or, worse yet, singing the entire story did nothing for me. Couple that with the fact that (a) I didn’t want to go anywhere tonight and (b) we were seeing it with company people and I was (c) miserable. Unfortunately, since we were hosting tonight, I had no option.
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Up until two weeks ago, I had no idea what hosting entailed. When Jess was me and I was her, we never hosted. We tagged along occasionally when they had extra tickets, but we never hosted. I found what it entailed when, two weeks ago, during working hours, Terri, one of the corporate meeting planners, called me. “Hey, Jess, how’s everything?”
“Hey, Terri,” I said, brightly. “What’s going on? How’s Tony.” We had become friends with Terri and her husband Tony on a trip to the Bahamas. He was a VP at an ad agency and invited us along to a Yankee game, when he was given use of the corporate box.
“Oh, he’s fine. She’s still praying for me.” They had no kids, apparently much to her mother-in-law’s chagrin. Her mother told her, frequently, that “I pray for your fertility,” to which she told Jess she responded, “that’s funny. I pray against it.” I thought about asking her to tell her mother-in-law to put in the good word for me. I figured it couldn’t hurt. “Anyway, let’s talk about the dinner.”
“Dinner?” I was knee deep in a motion, and wasn’t really focused on anything but that.
“The dinner you’re hosting on the 24th, with Southern states,” she said. “We need to talk menus and the show.”
“OK,” I said, uncertain of how this involved me. I just assumed this got done. I went with, “So, I’m new at this, obviously. What does hosting mean exactly?”
“OK, well, we have to decide what to see and where you’re eating and what the menu is. Lucky you, you get Southern states for the first time. Well, may as well go into the deep end and learn to swim.”
“Or drown.” She laughed. I wasn’t kidding. What did I know about this? “Um, OK,” I said, thinking that I really don’t have time for this. I figured the easiest part would be the show. You needed tickets for 24 people, so that limited your options. “Lead me, Terri. What do we do here?”
She took my e-mail and, while we were on the phone, sent me five show options and menus for four different places. Like I said, I hate musicals but was told, “you can’t do plays. Too dark. Too much potential for politics. Plus, when these crackers say they want to see a show, they mean a musical.” After much back and forth (I rejected anything by Andrew Lloyd Webber), we came up with “Great Comet.” I figured if my mom liked it, these people would.
“Great,” she said, brightly. “Now, the menus.” We started to talk, when Mike walked in my office.
“Hang on a sec, Terr. My boss just walked in.” I put my hand over the mouthpiece. “What’s up?”
He smiled. “Order me chicken parm. What the hell are you doing?”
I laughed, “We’re hosting a dinner for some of Dan’s managers. We’re seeing the ‘Great Comet,” to which he mimed hanging himself. He came back from seeing ‘Miss Saigon,’ telling me that he now appreciated where Ho Chi Minh was coming from, “and taking them to dinner, so I have to plan a menu.” As I said the words, I could see a look somewhere between incomprehension and disgust cross his face. “I’ll be done really soon, Mike. I’ll come in.” He walked out, shaking his head.
“Sorry, Terr. So where were we? Can’t they all order off the menu?”
She laughed at me. “If you want to miss the show, sure. Come on…” she said, like I should know better. Then, I remembered that they always gave us three choices for dinner. Two for starters and two desserts.
“Oh yeah. Do you think Italian’s a good choice?”
She kept laughing, “Sure. A genuine New York experience. If you consider Times Square New York.” I didn’t. We decided on the sort of anodyne restaurant that any good New Yorker would avoid. Italian but not too Italian.
I looked at the menus with one eye and my phone - for an email from Mike - with the other. “Do chicken piccata, salmon and fettuccine work? And a salad or soup for the starters?” I had zero interest in this but knew this was going to be our first impression as part of management. I didn’t want to blow it for Jess.
“Sounds good. I’ll give them $100 gift cards for the room gift. Does that work?”
“Sounds great, Terri. Sorry, but I have got this motion due and I really need to go. E-mail me with questions, I can cover up for that if I’m in a meeting.” I laughed, “How come I’m doing this and not Dan?”
She laughed, “Funny, Jess. I’ll e-mail the final menu and everything for review, OK?”
“Sounds great.” Sounds ridiculous but what could I do? I was on board.
I went into Mike’s office and he laughed, “What the hell was that about?”
“Sorry, you know how I told you Dan got promoted?” I could see in his eyes that he was trying to remember if he knew that. Like a good lawyer, he lied and said, ‘oh yeah.’ “Anyway, so some managers from the South are coming in and we’re hosting them for dinner and show Saturday. I had to pick a menu and a show, sorry.”
“Don’t they have people for that,” he asked, exasperated.
“Yeah, I thought so. And they do, sort of. That’s who I was talking to. Anyway, the motion is basically done. I’m just proofing it.”
“OK. Is this going to become a habit?” He said, playing with his pen.
“Is what going to be a habit?”
“This Suzy Homemaker bullshit?”
I was, to say the least, surprised. And pissed off. I took one phone call and I get this. I could walk past Jeff’s office and hear him bullshit about football for half an hour and no one blinked. I used to do it with him all the time, and Mike would join in. I was going to call him on it, but knew it would fall on deaf ears. “Mike, have I ever done that in seven years? Ever?”
He looked like he realized he would be in deep trouble if he kept going, so he said, “sorry. I guess I was just surprised. And this is on deadline. Sorry.” Then he laughed, “So what did you go with?”
“Chicken piccata, salmon and fettuccine,” I said, laughing. “Wanna come?”
“People singing for no reason? No thanks. Good luck.”
I went back to my office and thought about what he said. Was that who I was now? Dan’s wife? I knew it was at his job. Was that all I was here now too?
---------------
I rushed around getting ready. “You should have woken me sooner,” I said, I fastened in my earrings.
“Sorry,” Jess said, “you just seemed like you needed some rest.”
“Well, thanks,” I said, turning around so she could zip me up. “But this is important. I need to look good so you do.” I don’t know why I added that last part. “How do I look?” I was wearing a black knee-length crepe sheath with a bateau neck and cap sleeves. I started putting on makeup.
Jess smiled. “You look gorgeous. That dress is perfect. You don’t have to dress for me though.”
I laughed then lied. “I’m not doing it for you. You said it, we all dress for each other,” I said, inadvertently hitting that first ‘we’ a little too hard.
“Are you OK, Jessa?”
“I’m fine,” I said, putting on my shoes. “I just don’t want to be late. Terri said we, I need to get there a little early to make sure everything’s OK.”
“Are you sure? Do you want to talk about Michelle?” She put her hand on my shoulder.
I moved out from under it. “There’s nothing to talk about. She’s pregnant. I’m happy for her and Amanda. They’re going to do great.”
“Are you going to be OK tonight?”
I gave her a quick glance. “I will be fine, Dan. I am fine.” Besides, I thought, it’s not like I have any other option. I put the tickets in my purse - Terri had messengered them to me - and we left,
We got to the restaurant about fifteen minutes early and met with the maitre d’. “Is everything the way you wanted it, Jessica?” she said.
I smiled. “Perfect, Carrie. Thanks.” They had set up a private room with four tables of six. They had originally wanted to set up two long tables but I had spoken with Terri and decided that I liked the four tables better since it encouraged conversation. All this happened either at lunch or after work. Since Mike caught me, I felt like I was being watched. I made sure that my billable hours were impeccable. Other people may have surfed the web or talked about the Yankees, but not me, not after that. I was going to be partner.
Jess looked at me. “You did all this?”
I looked at Carrie and rolled my eyes. “Yes, Dan, I did. Well, Carrie, Terri and I did. We picked the menus and set up the tables and everything,” I snapped. Well, in my mind, I snapped. Carrie just laughed so I hoped it just came off as ‘god, men are clueless.”
Jess gave me a kiss. “Wow. Thanks. When?”
“Menus I set when I went to get lunch. The tables were when I met Sammie for dinner a week ago. I came over early and Carrie very generously stayed late. Thank you again.”
She just smiled and said, in a clear effort to leave us alone, “I am going to check on the bruschetta for the tables.”
Once she left and closed the door, Jess said, “I am really impressed.”
“At what?” I said, pulling down on the hem of my dress.
“How you got this all set up.”
“This is our first impression, Dan. We need to look good,” I said, checking my teeth in the mirror for lipstick. I needed to look good. I didn’t need to get a reputation among these women as inept. I had to be on board.
She kissed me. “I know we will. When I’m next to you, I always look good.”
She was trying. I was snapping and she was trying. It wasn’t her fault - well, not her fault alone - that I wasn’t where I thought I’d be. She was just concerned about me. I smiled and said, “True enough,” and gave her a kiss on the cheek. “Let’s go wait out front for everyone. I don’t need them to get lost finding the place.”
I needn’t have worried. They brought everyone over on two party buses. As they got off, the men all shook Jess’ hand. Like the Breakers, I found myself introducing myself to people with whom we had been away before.
Everyone went into the party room. The wine was poured and Jess stood up. “I’d like to make a toast,” she said. From one of the tables, a manager said, ‘make it quick, so we can drink,’ to the sort of forced laughter jokes like that engendered. “I’m Dan Silverman and this is my beautiful wife Jessica,” and I gave a little wave, “and we would like to welcome the Southern States team to New York. As some of you know, I’m from the South originally…”
Jeff McKechnie, one of the managers with whom we had gone to Bermuda and whose wife didn’t remember me, said, “please, Silverman. You’re from Miami. Yankee with a tan.” That brought about genuine laughter from the legitimate Southerners in the room. Miami wasn’t the South. It was either New York or Havana, but it wasn’t the South.
“Well, anyway, Jessica and I want to welcome you and now Jessa is going to let you know what to expect tonight.”
I was not expecting to speak nor did I want to, but goddammit, I was on board. “Hi everyone!” I said brightly. “Welcome to New York! I hope you all had an easy trip in and you like the hotel! I hope you like what we left you…”
James Rogerson, one of the managers, joked, “we didn’t get anything….”
I looked at Jess and said, “uh, Dan, weren’t you supposed to talk to him yesterday,” which got a laugh, even from him. His wife just looked at me and rolled her eyes. “Well, anyway, on behalf of Stone, we wanted to congratulate for your hard work and hope that you enjoy dinner and the show. We’re seeing a new show, ‘Natasha, Pierre and the Great Comet of 1812,’ which I’ve heard great things about. We’ll be sitting on stage with the performers so be prepared to pay attention. Anyway, if you have any questions or need anything, just ask. Now, I’m going to let Dan finish his toast…”
Dinner was, like Hobbes said, nasty, brutish and short. OK, that was a little unfair. It wasn’t brutish.
I went around from table to table, introducing myself and asking and answering the same questions over and over again, with a smile. ‘Yes, we live here. In the city. You get used to the noise, I don’t even hear it anymore.’ ‘No, we don’t have any kids.’ ‘I don’t know what we’ll do when we have them.’ If we have them, I found myself thinking. ‘I’m an attorney.’ ‘Ha ha, yeah, that’s a funny joke.’ I wanted to hang myself. I tried to introduce people from one district to another, so they’d get to meet. It didn’t work as most of them just wanted to talk to people they knew. After a couple of efforts, I figured it would happen like it did in Florida or not at all. I just wanted to make sure that I looked like I was doing it.
On the other hand, I was watching Jess. She was legitimately enjoying herself, talking about sports with the other men and asking the wives about their kids. She wouldn’t remember the kids’ names - that was my job, even before this - but she seemed genuinely happy. Every so often, she would take my hand and give it a gentle squeeze. I decided to relax. It was one night. I liked meeting new people. It was good for Jess.
Once I relaxed, most of the wives were OK. One, Layla Thomason (“yeah,” she joked preemptively, “my parents were hippies”), whose husband was a manager in Mobile, specifically thanked me. “Did you set all this up?”
I smiled, “I did. Well, I mean Terri, one of the planners, gave me some options for restaurants and I picked one, but we did it together.”
“So, yeah, you set this up.” She looked at Jess and said, with a snicker, “Did he even know where you were going before you came over?”
I laughed, “Oh, he was completely involved in everything. It’s even his recipe for chicken piccata.”
Another woman, Cheryl Harper, a manager from Macon, overheard and laughed. “Well, then, you’ll just have to come to Macon for a potluck. Mike’s cheesecake is the perfect complement to it. Seriously, Jessica, you work lawyer’s hours and you did this, too? Damn, you are the perfect wife.” Yup, that’s me, Suzy fucking Homemaker.
Another woman joked, “What, you mean she’s not supposed to work full time, plan this, clean up the house and, when she’s done, be ready and waiting for him…” I blushed and she said, “you need some kids, honey. Clears up that blushing immediately.”
Before we left, I went to the bathroom. One of the wives, Kerry Farrell, came in while I was washing my hands. “So you’re the famous Jessica SIlverman? I just put two and two together.”
‘Uh oh,’ I thought. I decided to make a joke out of it. “You must have me confused with the legendary supermodel Jessica Silverman,” I laughed nervously. ‘Where is this going? Be careful.’
She smiled. “No, she’s taller. Mitch used to work with John Chapman.”
‘Oh fuck,’ I thought. ‘What does this mean.’ I kept my smile on my face. “John’s a great guy. We were just in Palm Beach with them. Bonnie’s great too.”
She laughed. “Bonnie’s a bitch and he’s an asshole. The happiest day of my life was when Mitch got assigned out of the midwest.”
I smiled, making sure not to give away anything. “I’m glad you enjoy Baton Rouge. I’m still not sure why I’m famous though.”
“The dumb bitch has been blaming you for why John didn’t get Dan’s job. She’s been telling everyone you kissed Ellen Conlan’s ass and that’s why it happened.”
I smiled, thinking of how much this dinner must be killing Bonnie. “Dan always says I’m a great kisser,” I joked, figuring that was innocent enough should it get back to the powers that be, yet bitchy enough to get me in everyone’s good graces for when she told the story at the hotel later. “Well, I had a nice time with them in Florida. I hope we get a chance to go away with them again soon.”
She laughed. “That makes one of us. Well, anyway, it’s nice to meet you, Jessica.”
“You too, Kerry.”
We finished up dinner and were heading to the theater. “OK, everyone,” I said, “the theater is two blocks south of here. We’ll pass some souvenir places along the way, but I’d ask that you wait until after the show if you want to get anything. Like I said, we’ve got stage seats, so I want to get there early. We can go after the show plus there’s a great store right nearby...”
“OK, Mrs. Silverman,” one of the managers, John Hodgson, joked.
In a mock teacher voice, I said, “well, it seems we have a comedian. You know what’s funny? You all have to do a book report on the show and it’s due Monday….but seriously, I’ll be up front and Dan will be in the back, should you need anything. Thank you again for all of your hard work.”
We went to the show. My parents were both right. It was incredibly entertaining and a unique experience. Vodka makes most unpalatable things less unpalatable. It was also very loud. I made a note to tell Mike to see it. He started it.
We took the bus back to the hotel with everyone. It was the last place that I wanted to be. I was tired, my feet hurt and I was still upset about Michelle, but Jess asked if we could go. I figured that we could go for a drink and walk home from there.
“Club soda with lime,” I said, to the bartender. Between losing the weight and not drinking for four months, I had become a lightweight. I had one shot of vodka and could feel it. I wasn’t drunk, far from it, but I knew another drink, especially a drink in a bar versus at the theater, would lower my inhibitions just enough to be dangerous. Once again, I figured club soda could be anything.
I walked around and talked to the various wives, while Dan held court.
“That was some show,” Danielle Ravenel said. “Thank you for picking it.”
“You’re welcome. I’m glad you enjoyed it,” I said, taking a quick glance at my watch. It was 11:30 and I wanted to be home.
“That actor who played Anatole was hot,” she laughed.
I thought about it. He was cute, but a little too pretty for my taste. I shuddered at that. I had made peace with who I was and even that I found men attractive, but for some reason this threw me. “Yes, he was,” I said, laughing. “So, what are your plans for the rest of your trip?”
“Well, we have a 5PM flight tomorrow from LaGuardia with Tammie and Doug and Laura and Jeff. How long should we leave to get to the airport?”
I thought about it for a second. LaGuardia to Midtown is maybe ten miles away. On a late night flight, you’re there in twenty minutes. 5 PM on Sunday? “Hour or so. Leave around 2:30.”
“Great!” she said, with a smile. “That gives us time to window shop a little in the morning. I’ve never been to Fifth Avenue before.”
‘It’s overrated,’ I thought. ‘And crowded.’ Then I realized that she had never been here. She lived in New Orleans. I imagine that she wouldn’t be caught dead in the French Quarter, so I said, “It’s a lot of fun.”
“Would you like to join us?” she said, hopefully.
‘I have an appointment to kill myself first,’ I thought. Then, I thought, ‘you can’t be a bitch, Jessica. This is for Jess.’ “Sure,” I said. “What time?”
“11:30?”
“How about 11:15?” I said. “I’ll meet you in the lobby and we’ll walk over.”
-----
“So why are you going then,” Jess said, as we walked in the apartment.
“I told you,” I snarled. “I’m doing it for you.”
“You don’t have to,” she said. “You did more than enough already.”
“Well, I can’t back out now. Besides, I’ll be fine.”
“You seem fine now,” she said, sarcastically.
“What does that mean?”
“It means that you’re upset.”
I paused for a second. I hoped that no one picked up on it tonight. “Did I seem upset tonight?”
“No,” she said, “And if you were, so what?”
“So what? So what? These were your people. I wanted it to be perfect. For you. For us. So that’s what!”
She took me in her arms. “You were perfect. Everyone said so. You were beautiful,” and she kissed one shoulder, “and charming,” and she kissed the other, “and funny,” and she kissed my neck. “I am the luckiest man in the world to have you.”
She meant it and I wanted none of it. “Not tonight.”
She looked concerned. Not upset, just concerned. “Are you still upset about Michelle?”
“I was never upset in the first place, so how could I be upset now?” She started to say something, and I preemptively snapped, “and don’t tell me it’s OK to be upset, because then I will be upset. With you.” I finished getting undressed and put on a t shirt. I didn’t feel very sexy or feminine, and didn’t want to.
“OK,” she said. “If you want to talk about...something, I’ll just listen,” she said, meekly. “I am very proud of you. You made it the perfect night. I love you, Jessa.”
“I love you too.” I didn’t fall asleep for a while. I just laid in bed and stared at the ceiling, thinking about who I was tonight. Jessica Silverman. Dan’s wife. The hostess with the mostest, as my grandfather used to sing. Tour guide. Then who I wasn’t. The lawyer. The potential politician. The mom. I cried myself to sleep, trying not to wake Jess.
June came and, once again, I was not pregnant. February, I said, ‘it was the first month plus we shouldn’t have abstained.’ March? ‘First month. Well, the first real one, where you did everything right. Odds were against you. No worries. We’ll get it.’ April, ‘ok, third time will be the charm.’ May. ‘May not.’” It didn’t help that my mother kept talking about Michelle.
Dan was out golfing for the day with Bruce and two VPs. They had gone to a course upstate that one of the VPs had raved about. They wouldn’t be back until late. Ellen was supposed to come in to spend some time, but then Patrick got caught skipping school. She called me from the car after she picked him up from school. “I apologize,” she said, through what sounded like gritted teeth, “but someone decided it would be funny to skip school, so now he’s grounded. Which means I am.” I hated that she couldn’t make it but feared for Patrick more. When I was a kid, I got busted for drinking at a party. My parents grounded me the next weekend and couldn’t go out. My father said, “now, you are in seriously deep shit. First, because you screwed up and, second, because your screw up means I don’t get to go to dinner, which I have been looking forward to all week.”
My mother called. ““Mona is just so excited,” my mother said one Saturday morning. For the umpteenth time.
“I’ve heard, ma,” I said, flicking through a magazine
“They’re making Michelle’s room into a room for the baby.”
“So, you’ve told me,” I sighed. I thanked G-d we weren’t on Skype or FaceTime or anything where she could see me. That way, she couldn’t see me alternate between giving her the finger and blowing my brains out.
“Of course, they don’t know what color to paint it. I mean, if Michelle and Amanda know, they’re not telling anyone…”
I knew what she was asking. I wasn’t in the mood, so I snapped, not taking a breath, “I told you ma, I don’t know. And if I did, I wouldn’t tell you. Like I said the last four times, they can paint the room yellow or green - a light green, not that lime green that Laura used to have, I know, ma. If they want some gender-specific color, they’ll have to wait. It’s not the worst fate in the world.” I mean it’s not like, I don’t know, trying to have a kid and failing.
“I’m sorry I’m excited for Mona, Jessica.”
I felt bad. She wasn’t saying anything to me or about me. She was excited for her friend. “Sorry, ma,” I said. “I’m just under a lot of stress at work,” I lied.
“How many hours have you billed this month?” She sounded concerned.
“Counting today, when I go in? About 240.” The sole saving grace of all this was that, since Mike’s snotty Suzy Homemaker comment, I had billed - a lot. 220 hours for the month of May. 240 for this month. And I had already billed between 180 and 210 for January through April. To be clear, billing wasn’t hours in the office, at least for most people. You couldn’t bill lunch (although the best partners did) and the time spent looking at the Internet and bullshitting with the other people. I was in the office from 9 to 8 every day, working, and 11 to 4 on weekends. If I couldn’t be a mother, I’d be partner.
“What does Dan say about all of this?”
“Why does Dan get a say?” I snarled. “We work. He works. I work. He’s been all over the place but you don’t seem concerned about him.” He had been at back-to-back meetings in Denver and Houston the past week. I wasn’t worried. I knew that he was being watched.
She got defensive. “Jessica Renee,” she said. When she used my first and middle name, I knew I was in trouble. Not as much as all three, but trouble nonetheless. “I know you both work. What is wrong?”
I can’t get pregnant. Every one else can. You won’t shut up about it. How about that? “If you’d listen to me, you’d know that I have a big case coming up. And I still have to manage the rest of my docket.”
Her voice got soft. “I know that. I just hate seeing you work yourself crazy. You need to take a break sometimes.”
She meant well. “I do, ma. I work out every day. I still read.” Not as much as I wanted to. I had an ever growing stack of books on my nightstand. By the time I came home from work, I was spent.
“I’m just concerned. Please take care of yourself. You need to stop moving at some point or you’ll fall over.”
“I know, ma. I appreciate it. But, I’m fine. We’ll see you for dinner next week. I promise, no phone,” I laughed.
She didn’t. “Please take some time and relax. Go get a manicure. Go sit by the water and read. But relax. Stop running and relax.”
“I will. I love you, ma.” I hung up the phone and took a deep breath. She was right. I needed to relax. I figured I’d go for a run in the park. She didn’t literally mean ‘stop running,’ right? It was figurative. Running relaxed me.
I ran up to Central Park and got on the big loop. I wanted to be around the reservoir, but had made a promise and, to be honest, was still a little spooked. I get that women dealt with it all the time. I did. But that first time still scared me when I thought about it. I still hated the big loop though. It was crowded. I had to dodge bikers and walkers and, at the bottom of the loop, the horse drawn carriages. Which is what was ultimately my downfall. I went to dodge a pile of horseshit and…
“Fuck,” I screamed, as I tripped on a pothole. I felt my ankle twist and thankfully, I fell onto the grass. “Fuck,” I screamed, as I held my ankle. The pain shot through me.
A couple running nearby came over. “Are you OK?” the woman said.
“No. My ankle. It really hurts,” I said, grabbing it.
The man came over. “Do you want to try getting up?” He leaned down. “OK, on the count of three,” he said, putting his arms out, “I’ll pull you up. Ready?”
I wasn’t, but I needed to get home and get to work. “Sure. Thanks.”
“1-2-3,” he said, lifting me.
I didn’t even get my toes down when I felt like my leg was on fire. “Ow,” I screamed. “Sorry,” I said.
He smiled and said, in a mock-deaf voice, “What’s that? I’m a little hard of hearing. Speak up,” he said, as he led me to a bench. “Sorry about that,” I said, blushing. “Thank you,” I said, as his female friend gingerly stretched out my ankle.
He smiled, a warm, sincere smile. “Don’t worry about it? Will you be OK? Is there someone you can call?”
I smiled, “I’m fine. I’ll be OK.”
She said, “I’d feel much better if you called someone. Boyfriend, husband?” I raised my eyebrow. “Girlfriend. Non-binary gender. Whatever works for you,” she said.
I laughed. “Husband. But he’s golfing.”
She said, “We’re getting you to CPMU,” the park medical unit. “That needs to be looked at. It’s already swelling up. If it’s broken, you need someone to look at it now.” I tried to protest, but she just said, “Jack, go get someone.” She stayed with me until the CPMU came. Her name was Wendy. She said that she and Jack, “were friends. Really just friends. No benefits. In fact, if you know anyone, he’s a great guy.” Hey, I was a captive audience. At least, I could laugh while I writhed in pain.
I was lucky. It was just a severe sprain. I was given crutches and told to “stay off it for the weekend.” I tried to say that I had to go into work and the staff doctor just laughed.
I went home. Raoul, the Saturday doorman, helped me out of the cab. “What happened, Ms. Jessica?” I felt weird when he called me ‘Ms. Jessica.’ I tried to get him to call me just Jessica. He refused and would call me ‘Ms. Silverman.’ Ms. Jessica was our compromise.
“Pothole attacked me, Raoul,” I joked.
He smiled, “Want me to go kick its ass?” He’d curse in front of me, but wouldn’t call me Jessica. Whatever.
I walked into the lobby and saw Jodi, her husband Mark and Leo. Lately, I had mixed feelings when I saw Leo. On the one hand, I lived for his little laugh. It started off my day on a high note, something that was in short supply lately. On the other hand, seeing him reminded me of how I was failing.
Leo came over and looked at my crutch. He pulled at the one next to my good leg. “Leo,” Mark yelled. “Don’t do that. Jessica got an owie on her leg.” I smiled at that. Mark was a doctor. An orthopedist, to be exact.
I laughed, “Owie? Remind me to never go to Sinai, Mark. Hi Leo!”
“Hi hi hi. Owie?”
“I fell down and went ka-boom!” He plopped down on the ground and started laughing. “Ka-boom,” he said. Four times. In spite of myself, I laughed.
Jodi smiled. “Do you need help getting upstairs?”
“I’ll be fine,” I said.
She smiled, a strange smile. “Why don’t I help you,” she said. “Mark, I’ll meet you guys at the park. The playground by the zoo.” She kneeled down. “Leo, daddy will take you the big park with the big slide. I’m going to help Jessica upstairs, OK?” Leo looked confused. “Jessica got hurt on her leg, so mommy’s going to help her. Can you give Jessica a kiss so she feels better?”
She lifted him up and gave me a kiss. It did make me feel better. We got in the elevator and went upstairs. “Thanks,” I said. “You didn’t have to but I appreciate it.”
She smiled. “Please, it’s no bother.” I started to hobble to the kitchen. “Go sit on the couch,” she said. “Whatever you need, I’ll get it.”
“Thanks. I hate to be a bother but could you get me a glass of water and an ice pack? There’s one in the freezer.” She brought them both out to me. “Thanks, Jodi. I’m fine now. You can go meet them.”
She sat down next to me and smiled. “I think you need some more help. Right? You need more help.”
I wasn’t sure what she was saying. Then, I realized and smiled, “Yeah, help. Thanks. What’s up?”
She took a sip of water. “Nothing. Sometimes, I just need a break. I love Leo more than anything but he’s a handful. Speaking of Leo, are you OK?” I laughed and pointed at my leg, up on the coffee table. She smiled, “No, not that. Lately, you just seem, I don’t know, out of it. Like something’s bothering you.”
I guess, for all my changes, I wasn’t that perceptive. I don’t know that I would have noticed in reverse. I certainly didn’t notice that she was tired. “What do you mean?”
“When we see you in the lobby, you seem distracted lately.”
I felt bad for poor Leo. He waited for hide and seek and I couldn’t give him that. “It’s work,” I lied. “Sorry. Does Leo notice?”
She laughed loudly. “Leo is 17 months old, Jessica, a 17 month old boy. He notices leaves, dogs and trucks. Not whether you’re distracted. He’s just happy to see you. Seriously, though?”
I debated telling her but, in the end, couldn’t. I knew she’d be sympathetic. Who knows? It may have taken them a year to get pregnant and maybe she knew something. But then I couldn’t handle being an object of pity. To hear her say something well meaning like, “Oh, that’s so bad,” and “it’ll happen,” because it was so bad and because I didn’t believe that it would happen. So, instead, I said, “We’ve both been working crazy hours. I billed 220 last month,” Jodi used to be a lawyer, which wasn’t helping me either. She was me and now she’s Leo’s mom - and only Leo’s mom, “and my mom’s been on me to relax, so I guess I’m relaxing now,” I said, with a stupid little laugh.
She looked at me and smiled. “220? That’s a lot. Seriously, though, I’m here, anytime, if you want to talk.” After 15 minutes of idle chatter, she looked at her watch and said, “I guess I should get going. I can’t wait to see what they’re up to.”
“Thanks again, Jodi,” I said, as she walked out.
I spent the rest of the afternoon feeling sorry for myself. I could have called Sammie and I’m sure she would have brought Charlotte over, but I wasn’t in the mood to feel good. I wanted to feel bad about myself. I couldn’t have a baby and I couldn’t go to work, so I just wanted to have a pity party. I did catch up on my reading and occasionally hobbled to the kitchen for a snack or a drink, but mostly I just stewed.
About 8 PM, Jess walked in, “Hi honey...whoa, what happened?”
With a fully cooked set of grievances simmering in my head, I let go. “What happened? What happened? What do you think happened? I was running in the park on the big loop and I tripped and I sprained my ankle and I’ve been sitting here all day!”
“Why didn’t you call me,” she said. “I would have come home.”
“I didn’t need you to come home! I needed you there in the first place.”
She looked confused. “Um, you know I had the golf thing today. I thought you were going into work…”
“Well, I was,” I said, starting to tear up. “And then my mother told me I was working myself to death and I should relax. So, I decided to go for a run before I went to work. And I went to run on the big loop. I wanted to run the reservoir but,” and I decided to pin it on her and her alone, “you told me not to run the reservoir and to stay on the big loop…”
She looked shocked, go figure. “I just asked that you be careful…”
“No, you said stay on the big loop if you weren’t there,” it now felt like an out-of-body experience or, in retrospect, nervous breakdown, but I kept going, “and so I did. And it wasn’t enough to dodge bikers and walkers. I went to dodge horseshit,” and she started to laugh. It was funny. Slipping on horseshit is objectively funny but it wasn’t in the moment,” and - IT’S NOT FUNNY - and I tripped on a pothole and sprained my ankle and two nice people - NEITHER ONE OF WHOM WAS YOU - had to call the medical unit and I’ve been here all day and you weren’t,” and I started to cry.
She tried to hold me but I pulled away. “Why didn’t you call me? I would have come there immediately.”
“You were exactly where you were supposed to be!”
“I don’t understand.”
“You were exactly where you were supposed to be. Where you are supposed to be. But I wasn’t not. I’m not. I’m not where I’m supposed to be. I’m not anywhere,” and I started to cry.
She held me and rubbed my back. “What do you mean, Jessa? I really don’t get it.”
I wiped my nose on her shirt and said, “You weren’t supposed to be with me. You were where you were supposed to be. You were golfing with your boss and two other VPs. You’re assistant VP and you were showing them how great you are. But, I’m not anywhere. I don’t know what I am or where I am anymore. I’m not sure I’m supposed to be at work, but I was supposed to be, but I wasn’t even there because I was listening to my mom talk about Michelle. And I’m not there either. I’m nowhere.”
“You’re with me. You’re my wife,” she said.
“Is that all I am to you?” I snapped. “A wife. Suzy fucking homemaker? That’s not all I am.”
She looked at me and snapped back. “When the hell did you become such a macho shithead?”
“What?”
“When did you become such a macho shithead?”
I picked up one of my heels with my crutch. “That’s me, macho.”
“That’s not what I mean and you know it. Suzy fucking Homemaker? Is that what you think I want? I could make dinner plans and pick menus, Dan.” That shocked me out of my funk. And pissed me off.
“What did you call me?”
“I called you Dan. You’re not acting like Jessa. Jessa understands who we are. You don’t so you must be Dan. Although, to be honest, you’re not even that. You’re not the person I married.” I grabbed my breasts with both hands and smirked. She didn’t laugh. “I didn’t say man. I said person. Asshole.”
“What does that mean?”
“The PERSON I married wouldn’t use the phrase Suzy Homemaker. The PERSON I married didn’t think husband and wife and his job and my job. That PERSON’s place wasn’t in front of me or behind me. It was next to me. The PERSON I married said we were a team.”
“We are a team,” I mumbled, feeling chastened.
“Are we,” she asked. “Are we a team? Were we ever?”
“That’s not fair. We were always a team,” I said.
“That’s what I thought. Were we a real team? Or were we one of those teams where you get to be Lebron and get to be some D-leaguer on a ten-day contract?”
I tried to joke. “You’ve been doing your reading.”
“Yeah, I have,” she said, without cracking a smile. “But answer me! Is that who you saw us as?”
“No, I mumbled.
“Then, what is it? What is wrong?”
I paused. “You don’t need me anymore.”
She looked horrified, “What? Are you kidding me?”
I wanted to curl my legs up to my chest but didn’t want to move my ankle too much. “You don’t need me. You need Jessa to look good and be the good wife, but you don’t need me. Not like you used to.”
I thought that she’d give me a hug and tell me everything would be OK. She didn’t. “What? What does that even mean?”
“You’re so strong and sure of yourself. What do you need me for? To be arm candy?”
“Oh, come on! Is that how I think I see you? Is that how you see yourself?”
“I just feel like…”
“I love you Jessa. I love my hot, sexy wife. But I love the person who’s there for me more. Who gives me great advice. Who’s smart and caring.” She took my hand in hers, hers covering mine completely. “I was always proud of you. I thought you were proud of me too…”
“I am,” I whimpered, “I just…”
“Are feeling sorry for yourself?”
“Now, I feel stupid.”
“You should,” she said, with a smile. “But what’s going on? For real?”
“For real, I feel like I’m watching my life float away from me. Every month, it kills me. I look at Sammie and Michelle and Laura, and I feel like everyone’s moving on. I feel like you’re Dan. You’re you. You’re doing great. But who am I? I can’t even do the one thing I couldn’t do before right”
“It’s only been five months, Jessa.” It felt better, her calling me that again. I felt comforted.
“It’s killing me. It shouldn’t be. It shouldn’t be what defines me but it does and it’s killing me.”
Now she gave me a hug, which made me cry again. She rubbed my back and said, “Jessa, I love you. More than anything in the world. I need you. You’re my rock, remember?”
I smiled, a small smile. “I’m a small rock.”
She kissed me. “You are, but you’re mine. But you need to stop beating yourself up. You didn’t do anything and it’s going to happen, but you need to stop focusing on what’s Dan’s job and what’s Jessa’s job and just be you. Don’t worry about being the woman you are or the man you are,” and we both laughed, “and just be the person you are.”
I smiled. “When did you get so smart?”
She kissed me. “When I married you.”
“Me too,” I said, leaning into her arms.
We made a decision that night. We were going to stop trying. We weren’t going to stop trying to have a kid, but we were going to stop thinking so much about it. No more basal body temperature. No more special diet. No more sex on these days and not on these days. We were going to do it the old-fashioned way. We’d have sex and, if it happened, it happened. Mind you, I still took my prenatal vitamins and wasn’t drinking. We may have been doing it the old-fashioned way but Emma was going to go to Princeton.
Our anniversary was June 23rd. Danny was taking me to dinner and Midsummer Night’s Swing at Lincoln Center. Yes, I said ‘Danny’ and not ‘Jess.’ I lay in bed the night that I sprained my ankle and just thought. I realized that she was right. I liked being Jessa, but realized that I still, on some level, thought of myself as Dan and Jess as Jess. I had my role as the voice of reason and Jess as the one to be protected. That wasn’t true now and, if I thought about it, wasn’t 100% true then. He was right and I was wrong. We were a team. I wasn’t Lebron and neither was he. We each had our strengths and weaknesses and it was time to let go of the old paradigm. To embrace Jessa and Danny fully, as they were.
We left the apartment. We were feeling silly and had decided to dress up for dinner and the show. Danny was wearing his charcoal gray suit, with a blue checked shirt and no tie. I was wearing a blue Nicole Miller spaghetti strap dress. It came in at the waist and flared out a little, ending a few inches above the knee. I felt flirty and sexy. “It’s a beautiful night,” he said, “Up for walking?”
I smiled, “Sure. If my feet get tired, I’ll let you know.”
We walked through the park at 64th Street and were walking past the carousel when he said, “Let’s go for a ride.”
I smiled, “Are you serious?”
He took out his wallet and went up to the window. “Come on, we have time. Let’s do it.”
I shrugged. “OK.” We got on and he lifted me onto a white horse. “Hey,” I said, grabbing the pole. “What do you think you’re doing?”
“A steed for my princess,” he said, with a bow. ‘OK,’ I thought, ‘someone is getting a little too into this. But, whatever.’ The horses started going up and down and, against my better instincts, I enjoyed myself. I never liked carousels as a kid. I always found them boring. I wanted the thrill of a rollercoaster. If I didn’t feel like I was about to vomit, it wasn’t worth it. But, now, with Danny hanging off the pole and looking at me, I was having the time of my life. At the same time, I felt like I was being watched but decided that I was being paranoid.
We walked hand in hand through the park. We were near Umpire Rock, a giant rock at the southwestern end of the park. When I was a kid, we’d visit my uncle Simon at his apartment on Central Park West and 68th Street. He’d take us to the park and we’d climb the rock, go to the playground and then he’d take us for ice cream. Eventually, he left that apartment and moved to an assisted living facility on Riverside.
I smiled, “Oh wow. This reminds me so much of…”
Dan smiled, “Uncle Simon. I remember. You told me on our second date.” On our second date, we went to dinner on 77th and Columbus. We walked back to her place, on 43rd and 3rd. I showed her the rocks and told her about how I used to climb them. She smiled and told me how sweet it was that I remembered that. She then asked if we could climb them together. She was wearing boots with a heel and I figured that any girl who was willing to try in those shoes was worth getting to know. “Let’s climb up.”
I laughed. “Are you serious? In these shoes?”
“Come on. I did it. You can do it. We’ll go up the back way.” If you go to the north end of the rock, there’s a slightly less steep path up. “I’ll help you. I won’t let you fall.”
I smiled, “If I hurt my ankle again, you’re carrying me home the whole way.”
He held out his hand, “Deal.”
We climbed up, Danny taking my hand along the way. Everyone looked at us, climbing the rock dressed as we were. One dad, climbing with his five year old son, said, “I didn’t realize they had a dress code on this rock.”
I smiled, “Only after 5.”
When we got to the top, Danny smiled and said, “I told you we could do it,” and he gave me a kiss. Then, he started fumbling in his pocket, “Now, where is it,” he said. “There it is.” I couldn’t see what it was.
“There’s what?” Then, he got down on one knee. “What are you doing? People are watching,” I said. They were.
“Jessa, you are the love of my life. When I see you, my heart sings. The two happiest days of my life were the day I met you and this day six years ago. You are my lover, my wife, my best friend and my teammate. I am everything I am because of you. All of my successes are because of you. You lift me up,” and now I was wiping away my tears. “I’ve said it before. My only goal is to make you happy and never hurt you. And the last time we did this it was amazing but I want this time to be better, if that’s possible,” and he opened his hand and there was a blue velvet box.
“Danny, what are you doing?”
He opened the blue box and inside was Jess’, my, someone’s old engagement ring, except now the diamond in the middle was flanked by two sapphires. “I had it reset when I took it to get resized,” he said, with a grin. I was now crying, as were two women nearby. “One sapphire is you, one sapphire is me and the diamond is us. Jessica Renee Richman, I have one question. Will you marry me?”
I couldn’t speak, so I just nodded my head. Everyone on the rock applauded and Danny picked me up and twirled me. While all of this was going on, I still felt like I was being watched but I didn’t care. It was official. I was Jessica Renee Silverman, Jessa to my Danny.
The rest of the night was wonderful. The Count Basie Big Band was playing in Damrosch Park. They were giving swing dancing lessons. Danny twirled me and dipped me, and I felt my skirt swirl around my legs. We were like Fred Astaire and Ginger Rogers. If they were uncoordinated and gawky. We may have been us, but what us was mediocre dancers, at best. I didn’t care. We were us and we were having fun. I couldn’t shake the feeling that I was being watched but again I was happy.
We ate dinner at Boulud Sud. We were having wine and appetizers when Danny said, “I’m sorry I can’t give you the wedding you deserve.”
I took a sip of my wine, “Would you stop? I had the wedding I wanted. I wouldn’t trade a thing,” I said, sticking out my hand and looking at my ring. “It is so beautiful, Danny. I love it. I can’t believe that it’s making me so happy but it is.”
She just smiled and said, “Not as happy as seeing you with it is making me.” I hoped that there were no diabetics nearby. I couldn’t live with the guilt.
Just then, a photographer came past. I didn’t remember a photographer there the last time we went but it was Saturday, so I figured maybe it was something they did for the bridge and tunnel people, the out of towners. “Would you like a picture?”
We looked at each other. “Sure,” I said, “hang on. Let me check my makeup.” I touched up my lipstick and fluffed my hair with my fingers.
“Put your hand on the table, Jessa, so the ring is showing.” OK, weird, I thought, putting my hand on top of Danny’s. We smiled and we took the picture.
We came home and we made love. I thought I might be ovulating but I didn’t care. OK, I cared a little. OK, a lot. But I didn’t check, which was progress for me. We just made love. Beautiful, sweet tender love. I even took off the ring, which was not what happened the last time.
A week later, I came home late from work. Danny was on the couch and I saw a box in front of him. “What’s that?”
“I dunno. It’s addressed to you. Open it.”
I opened it and inside was an album. “What’s this?”
He smiled, “I dunno. Open it.”
Inside were all the pictures from our anniversary. Us on the merry ground. Us climbing the rock. Danny proposing. Dancing. Dinner. “What’s this? How, where?”
He smiled, “I had a photographer follow us that night to document everything. I mean I can’t give you the wedding you deserve but I thought our children should see the night that daddy proposed to mommy. Happy anniversary, Jessa.”
A week later, my period still hadn’t come. I was like clockwork but I wasn’t ready to take a test. I couldn’t handle the disappointment.
-----------------------
I was at work when Rachel popped her head in. “We’re still going to lunch, right?”
“Of course, let me get my bag.” After Sarah’s bat mitzvah, I followed through on my commitment to try and mentor Rachel. She, Robin and I had lunch bi-weekly.
Initially, Robin balked. “Seriously, Jess? Why are you doing this?”
“C’mon Robin, it’s not every day. I’m trying to show her what she can become.”
She laughed, “A bitch and a neurotic Jew?”
“Is that you or me,” I laughed.
She smiled, “Yes.”
Over time, Rachel grew on her, though. She said, “she’s got this weird happy-creepy, Kimmy Schmidt thing going on. I don’t know why but I like her.” Between the two of us, we were teaching her to how to handle herself.
The day that my period hadn’t come we were working with her on Jake.
“OK, Rachel,” Robin said, in an exasperated tone, “what do we say when Jake tries to dump document review on you?”
“Um, Jake, fuck off? Who made you assigning associate?”
“Are you asking him if he should fuck off,” I said.
“No, I’m telling him,” she said.
“Good, again,” Robin and I both said.
“Fuck off Jake! You’re not my boss!” OK, it was a little strident and had a chopped up in the freezer vibe but we were getting there.
We both laughed and said, “There’s hope for you yet.” She grinned, the look being somewhere between a kid who got her first A and your dog dropping a dead bird at your feet, but we were getting there. It was a start though.
Rachel excused herself to go to the bathroom and Robin said, “You know we are totally fucking with her head. She’s going to explode one day and take us hostage.”
“Probably. But we tried.”
“Speaking of which, how’s trying going?” I had embraced Jessa fully but still never ceased to be amazed with the openness of women around this.
I looked to make sure no one could hear me and whispered, “I’m late.”
She looked at me, “That’s good, right?”
“Yeah,” I smiled.
“What did the test say?”
“I haven’t taken one.”
She looked at me with the same look she gave me about the bikini. “Why, dare I ask?”
“I can’t handle the disappointment.”
As she was about to say something, Rachel came back. “Hi, guys, what’s up?”
Robin looked at her phone, “Shit, Jess, we have that meeting at Feldstein at 1:30. We have to prep. Rachel, we will see you at the office in a little while. OK. What do we tell Jake?”
“Fuck off!”
I laughed, “Good girl,” and she left. “What meeting, Robin?”
“The meeting at Walgreen’s. We’re buying you a pregnancy test.”
I laughed, “What?”
She laughed. “You heard me. Christ, if it wasn’t for me, you’d be like one of those girls in the South Bronx who gives birth in the bathroom because she didn’t know she was pregnant. And you’d be wearing a one piece bathing suit.”
That night, I heard Danny come in. “Hey, Jessa, that smells good. What is it?” I was cooking steak, broccoli and new potatoes.
“Come in and see,” I said, in my cutest voice. Which was probably hovering between cute and annoying.
He walked in and gave me a kiss. “Ow,” I said, as he stepped on my foot.
“Sorry,” he said, looking down. “Why are you barefoot?” I tilted my head to the counter. He looked over. It took a second and then he said, with a smile, “Does that mean?”
I smiled through my tears, nodded and said, “Uh huh….”
“You are? We are?” Now, he was crying.
“Uh huh,” I said, as he picked me up. He couldn’t twirl me. It’s a New York city apartment kitchen and we don’t live on TV. But, in my mind, I was twirling through the air.
On the counter was a positive pregnancy test. OK, there were three. And I scheduled a blood test with my OB-GYN Dr. Andopolis. Sue me, I’m neurotic.
To Lizzy Bennet, without whom I couldn't have done this
The continuing story of Jessa and Dan. Jessa goes through her first two trimesters of pregnancy.
Please let me know if there's interest in continuing the story
-----------------------------
The average full sized watermelon weighs 18 pounds. A mini watermelon weighs seven.
Now, you’re asking yourself, ‘why does she know this?’ It’s actually quite logical.
RIght after I told Danny about the positive test, I downloaded a pregnancy app to my phone - and I’m proud of that. Plato said, ‘the unexamined life is not worth living,’ and I was going to have the Platonic ideal of a pregnancy. I wanted to keep track of every aspect of my pregnancy and the baby’s development. I wanted to tell myself that I would always remember every second of it but I knew that was unrealistic. On some days, Sammie couldn’t keep track of where she was last week, much less during the first trimester of her pregnancy. I imagined that my mother couldn’t tell you much about her pregnancies beyond corned beef bothering her. I was going to keep a written record, so that someday I could hold it over Emma.
Anyway, among the other features of the app was one that told you how big your baby was - relative to food. Week four was a poppyseed, week six a sweet pea, eight weeks, a raspberry. Danny joked, “no son of mine is a fruit!” I joked, “oh no, it’s going to be...a vegetable.”
Danny looked at the app and said, “so when is it a watermelon?”
I laughed, “hopefully, never.”
“A watermelon’s not that big.”
“Uh yeah, it is,” I said. “If I end up carrying a watermelon, it’ll split me in half.”
“I’m telling you, a watermelon’s not that big,” he said.
“First off, you’re not carrying one in your uterus.” I thought about it for a second. No, I’m carrying it in your uterus, or what used to be your uterus. “Second, I am telling you that a watermelon is fucking huge Or much bigger than a newborn baby at least.”
“Fine,” he said, with a big smile. “We’re going to the store and we’re going to buy a watermelon and you’ll see I’m right.”
“Oh, please,” I said. “I am so right.”
“Wanna make a bet?”
Last time we made a bet, I ended up with wind burns. This time, I was right. I knew it. “Sure, if I win, you have to give me foot rubs whenever I say for a week.”
He smiled and kissed me on the cheek. “I’d do that anyway. When I win, you wear the white bikini when we go away.” We were going up to Bolton Landing the following weekend.
I smiled and put my hand down his pants. “Fine,” and I squeezed him. “But I’m right.”
He smiled and moved my hand. “Don’t try and distract me, Jessa. I’m right and I can’t wait to see you in the bikini.” I smiled. I couldn’t wait either. I had been planning on it. I figured that I didn’t have much longer before it would look like rubber bands on an egg.
We walked to Whole Foods, laughing and holding hands. I had never been so happy. We picked up a watermelon and walked over to the produce scale. As we walked, I held it in front of me. “Does this look normal to you?” People stared at us, casting their votes for ‘no, this most definitely look normal.’
Danny joked, “You are definitely having a boy. My grandma always said, ‘when you’re carrying a watermelon, it means you’re having a boy.’”
“No, that’s a cantaloupe. Watermelon means girl.” I had a vision of a little girl, in a pink party dress and Mary Janes, and her holding Danny’s hand. I wondered how he’d do with that. I smiled, “well, let’s see how much she weighs.” I put it on the scale. “Ha! Ha! Eighteen pounds! I win. I win.” Now, the rest of the produce section was staring at me. I didn’t care. I won.
“Well, let’s weigh a mini watermelon.”
“No, no, no. You said watermelon. Not mini watermelon. Watermelon. No going back,” I said.
He laughed, “I know. I know. You won. I just want to see.” He hoisted it onto the scale. “Seven pounds. You could totally have a watermelon,” he said, taking it out.
“Honey, be gentle with the baby. Support her head,” I said, laughing. I was waiting for the men with the nets and the white coats to come in for us, but I didn’t care. He walked away, holding it with two hands and cooing to it. I loved that he didn’t care how silly he looked.
We paid for the baby and walked home. Danny smiled and said, “you keep saying she.”
“Huh?” I blushed, embarrassed at having been caught.
“You keep calling the baby ‘she.’ What makes you so sure?”
“I’m not. I don’t know why. It’s just what I thought.”
He kissed me on the lips. “It’s fine. It’s cute.”
“It’s weird.” It was weird. If you had asked me when I was Dan, I would have said it was a boy. Now I was sure it was a girl.
He sighed, “It’s not weird. You’re pregnant. You’re all filled with estrogen. I get it.”
“It doesn’t bother you?” I said, biting my lip and putting one foot behind the other, hoping that would distract him.
He grinned. “Not at all, Jessa. You’re a girl. You’re the mommy. Whatever we have, I don’t care so long as it happy and healthy.”
“Me too.” And I meant that. Why did I keep saying ‘she?’ I was still me, I thought. Why was I so focused on ‘she?’ I put it out of my head and we walked home. We put the watermelon on the counter. Danny took out a knife and went to cut some. “You monster!” I mock-screamed. “How could you?” Then, we ate the baby. We were cannibals.
The first four weeks after we found out, I was in heaven. Well, I was tired, my boobs were sore and I now knew the location of every bathroom in Manhattan because I had to pee constantly. I didn’t care. It was Danny and me and baby makes three. I wanted to tell the world and didn’t want to tell anyone. It was ours and only ours for now. Our happy secret.
There was just one small problem.
I woke up from a nap one Saturday afternoon to see Danny sitting there.
“Oh hey, honey,” I said. “I’m sorry. I must have fallen asleep.”
He smiled and kissed me on the lips. “It’s fine, Jessa. You’re sleeping for two,” he said, with a laugh.
“No, it isn’t. It’s Saturday. You wanted to go out for a walk,” I said.
He kissed me again. “So we’ll go now. You were only asleep for an hour.”
“How about,” I said, pulling on his shirt, “we do something else first?”
He took off my shirt and unclasped my bra. “If you say so,” he said, kissing my neck and nibbling on my earlobe. From what I had read, my libido wasn’t supposed to be this high yet but I was always in the advanced class at school.
“Oh god, Danny,” I moaned. “That feels so amazing.” It did. I wasn’t faking it. He pushed me down on the bed gently. I would have liked it a little more forceful. Not rough, but forceful. He started playing with my nipples. “Harder, Danny. Bite them…”
“Uh,” he said uncertainly. “OK.” OK? That’s foreplay alright. But he did as he was told. He then started to make love to me, gently.
“Harder, harder,” I yelled. I don’t know what got into me, but I wanted it harder. “I said harder!”
“Um,” and he went a little harder, but not hard enough.
I got frustrated. “Switch places,” I said, hopefully not too angrily. He rolled onto his bank and I climbed on top, reverse cowgirl style. For whatever reason, I didn’t want to see the look on his face. “Oh god,” I yelled, pistoning up and down on him. “Oh god, oh god, oh god.” I’m not sure if I was excited or just in need of dire relief. When I felt him tense up and come, I climbed off. He laid there with a satisfied look on his face. “Thanks,” I said, “I needed that.”
He smiled. “That makes up for the nap.”
I went into the bathroom and cleaned up. “What’s up?” I said, from the bathroom.
“What’s up what?”
“What just happened there?” I walked back in and laid down next to him.
“Um,” he said with a laugh. “We must not be doing it right.”
“Seriously. What happened?”
“What?,” he said, defensively.
“Since when don’t you bite my nipples? And that was harder?”
“Sorry,” he mumbled.
I put my head on his chest and looked up at him. “Don’t apologize. What’s up?”
“Nothing,” he said. I could tell he wanted to roll away but wouldn’t.
“Danny, I know my body. I know what we can do.”
“I know,” he said. “I was, uh, distracted.”
I laughed, “Thanks. That makes me feel soooo good. A naked woman, a beautiful naked woman, offers herself to you and you’re distracted?”
“No,” he said, blushing, embarrassed. “That’s not it. Definitely not.”
I smiled and decided to let him off the hook. “You just wanted me on top. Make me do all the work.”
He laughed, ashamed to be caught in the lie and happy to be let off the hook. “You got me.”
We went out for a walk along the water. I put on a pink off the shoulder dress, with a floral print, and sandals. Since I got pregnant, I found myself in dresses and skirts most of the time. Maybe it was just the estrogen but I felt very girly. As we walked, I started to think about what happened. It was Danny and me and baby makes three, I thought. I always imagined the baby between us, just not between us.
----------
August 18th. I was almost two months pregnant. I wasn’t showing yet, at least I didn’t think I was. Danny and I were walking to dinner, hand in hand.
“Can I tell you how much I love you?” I said.
He laughed. “I love you too, Jessa. You look beautiful.” I was wearing a horizontal striped shift, with alternating light blue and dark blue stripes, and a lapis necklace. All day long, Mike would pop his head in and say, ‘Hey, Gainsborough, can I see that motion?’ or ‘Picasso, what’s going on with the position paper?’ I had no idea he was such an art expert.
I looked up at him and smiled. “Really? Do you like this? I look OK?”
He laughed, “You look gorgeous. And it’s not just the outfit.”
That made feel good. “Stop,” I said, “I am really really happy. You?”
I asked this question about ten times a day. To his credit, he always said, “Me too,” and he touched my belly. “So are you excited?” Marty and Evelyn were in for Danny’s Aunt Carole’s 75th birthday, something that Evelyn was attending unwillingly, as she told me. ‘She’s having it on a Sunday afternoon. It’s not enough that I have to fly in for this. It’s a Sunday party. Which means dinner with her and him,’ him being her boyfriend Ron, ‘Saturday night.’ My parents were meeting us for dinner too, so we decided to tell everyone at once.
Well, I decided. “I can’t wait,” I said, practically skipping to the restaurant.
He gave me a kiss. “You really sure you don’t want to tell yours beforehand?” He had been harping on this since we decided to tell them.
“No, this’ll be fun. They’re all here. Besides, it’s not a competition.” Danny just laughed and raise an eyebrow. “Do you not want to tell them? Tell me now.”
“No, it’ll be fine,” he said. ‘Great, fine, I thought.’ “Besides, you’re the mommy, you get to decide.”
I smiled, “That’s right. I’m the mommy. And you’re the daddy,” and I stood on tiptoes and gave him another kiss. And we were nauseating. And I didn’t care.
We came into the restaurant. My mother was at the bar with Marty and Evelyn. I gave them all a kiss and my mother said, annoyed, “your father is looking for a spot.” My father was forever looking for street parking, being constitutionally unable to just park in a lot. ‘Do you know how much they charge,’ he’d complain. Why yes dad, I do. They have a big sign posted at the entry of every garage with rates. I figured that, since Laura moved in 14 years ago, he’d lost about 6 months of family life to looking for spots on the street.
My father came in five minutes later. “Hi daddy,” I said, giving him a kiss.
“Hey, sweetie,” he said, “I got a spot, only six blocks away.” He was proud of himself. When he got a spot in front of his destination, he was as proud as I had ever seen him, counting when I graduated college and when I made law review.
The hostess led us to our table. “Hang on, let me settle up the bar tab,” Danny said.
“I’ll take care of it,” Marty said. “Put away your wallet.”
Danny smiled. “My treat, Dad. I can afford it,” he said, handing over his card. I was surprised Marty backed down. He would never have let me pay, when I was Dan. I once had to fake going to the bathroom to give the waiter my card.
“Spring for a spot next time,” Marty said to my father, shaking his hand in a Macron vs Trump death grip. My father just smiled.
“Dave,” my mother said. “Please park in a lot next time.”
I went to his defense. “Stop picking on him. He got a spot. He’ll get the car later. What’s the big deal?” Danny rolled his eyes at me. I gave my dad another kiss on the cheek. My mother grumbled, “Next time you drive with him. See how you like looking for spots.”
“It doesn’t matter,” I said, “we’re all here. So how was the flight?” I said, as we sat down.
Evelyn said, “As fine as it can be flying with the junior pilot here. I was not aware that the pilot was taking the wrong approach into Newark. Nor was the flight attendant. Thank god Marty was there to tell her.” I felt Danny squeeze my leg.
“Thank god we were in first class,” Marty said. “Nothing like first class,” he said, looking at my dad who responded, ‘seems like a lot for a two and half-hour flight, but if you enjoy it…” Now, I squeezed Danny’s leg. Maybe we could wait until the baby was born to tell them. “Let’s see what they have to eat,” Marty said. He scanned the menu in two seconds. Marty did everything with immediacy but I never knew what he did with all the extra time - other than annoy everyone around him. “Sea bass,” he said, putting it down. I looked at the menu. Sea Bass with...corn salad. Shit. My mother had corned beef. Mona, pomegranates. Michelle, oranges. I had corn. If I was anywhere near corn, I started to gag. We couldn’t go to street fairs for the past month because there were vendors selling arepas and Mexican street corn. I looked at Danny, pleading with my eyes.
“Hey dad, let’s see what the specials are,” he said, with a smile.
Evelyn rolled her eyes. “You know your father.” She turned to my mother and said, “I swear sometimes it’s like having a child again.”
“Oh, please. If David had his way, he would have veal parmigiana four days a week, and a hamburger the other three.” Was this my future? Complaining about food? “So, when is your sister-in-law’s thing?”
“Sunday afternoon,” she said. “It’s not enough that I have to fly up here. She’s doing it Sunday so I can fly back late and be on the bench the next morning.”
“So, come in late,” I said, with a laugh. “9:30 call? You didn’t say 9:30 where.”
She laughed, “Very funny, Jess. That’s state court.” My mother sat there mute, watching us. “Speaking of which, how are they doing?”
My mother said, “who’s they?”
“I told you, mom. Jake and Rachel. The associates I’m supervising. Remember?” Danny said that I gave Evelyn an eye roll. I didn’t notice. He said my mom did.
“Oh, yes,” my mother said, tightly.
“Anyway, she’s getting better. She really showed me on the Article 78 motion.”
“Please,” Evelyn said. “They were going to bring suit against the AG on what grounds?”
I laughed, “I know. Come on. Still, she did a good job though.”
“I’m not following,” my mother said.
“It’s a long story, ma. Boring. But, anyway, I told you about Rachel. She’s a mouse and I, well Robin and I, are teaching her to stand up for herself. Evelyn has been really helping us.”
“That’s great,” she said, with the barest attempt at enthusiasm. “That’s really great.”
Before I could say something, Danny tried to make her feel better. “So tell me what’s new with you?” As she told him about whatever was going on with her friends, he shot me a look that said, ‘stop,’ ‘you owe me one’ or both.
Eventually, the waitress came over. “Can I tell you about the specials?”
“I’ll have the sea bass,” Marty said, reaching over Evelyn to hand the waitress his menu.
“Marty,” I said, with a smile. “Listen to the specials.”
“I want sea bass. What’s wrong with sea bass? It’s good for you.”
“Dad,” Danny said, “Listen. Maybe you’ll like something else.”
“Well,” the waitress said, listing appetizers and salmon in a horseradish crust, which sounded interesting. That wasn’t the special I wanted though. “Our special tonight is grandchild. It’s going to take about eight months to prepare. It’s big enough for four…” she said, with a big grin and giving my shoulder a quick rub. I had read on a website about different ways to tell your parents and this sounded like fun. Danny had told the hostess right after he settled the bar tab. Yes, I was such a girl about it.
My father was the first to comprehend what was going on. I saw the realization creep across his face. He started to smile and tear up. He came over to me. I got up and he enveloped me in a bear hug. I started to cry too. “Uh huh, daddy.”
“You mean?” He couldn’t speak. I started to cry. All he said was, “Teddy….” I could feel his tears on my shoulder.
My mother realized next. She was bawling. “My baby is...” and she hugged me. Then, Evelyn joined in, then Marty. Now, I felt less loved and more smothered.
Danny got up and pulled them off me. “Let her breathe,” he said, pulling them off me. The people around us figured out what was going on and applauded. I blushed and felt mortified.
“When?” my mother said.
“I’m seven weeks,” I said.
Evelyn turned to my mother. “Seven weeks. It’s amazing. They can pinpoint it like that so early now. With Jill, I didn’t know I was until two months.”
My mother laughed, “Please. With Laura, I didn’t believe it until I heard the heartbeat.” She turned to me, with a huge smile. “Seven weeks. How are you feeling?”
“Great. I feel great.” They both looked at me and I said, “OK, tired mostly. Really, really tired. And I have to pee a lot.”
Evelyn looked at my mother and smiled. “Get used to it.” I didn’t like them being friends. “That’s it?” They seemed shocked.
I looked at Danny, Marty and my father. “And other stuff.” The three women shared a smile, while the men all looked away. I looked at Marty and thought, ‘didn’t you go through this in med school? Wuss.’
Evelyn rolled her eyes. “If they had to put up with other stuff, the human race would be extinct. So how are you?”
“Like I said, excited but tired. I am peeing constantly. My boobs are so tender, it hurts to touch them.” Evelyn looked at her chest and laughed. “Sorry.”
“Please,” she said. “You want to know from unfair? The boobs I didn’t have hurt like hell.”
My mother smiled. “When I was pregnant with you, if someone came near me, they hurt. Like one of those motion sensor car alarms. And your sister always wanted hugs.”
“Great, thanks,” I said. “That makes me feel so much better.”
She smiled. “It is the most amazing thing you will ever go through. But, for the next eight months, your body is a hotel and,” and she touched my stomach, which felt weird, “that is one demanding guest. You don’t want to know how. But get ready.”
I started to tense up. It hit me. I was pregnant. I mean, obviously, I knew I was pregnant. But, now I was pregnant in public. I was Jessa. “Excuse me for a second. I have to go again.” My father jumped up to pull out my chair.
Over my shoulder, I heard Danny say, “This is my life,” to laughs. It wasn’t funny.
I went into the bathroom and looked at myself in the mirror. I was Jessa. I was 5’6”, 125 lbs, with blue eyes and brown hair. I was wearing a blue dress. And I was a woman. I was pregnant. I was a pregnant woman and I started to hyperventilate. I sat down in a stall, having nowhere else to sit. I don’t know how long I was there but it must have been a while because my mother came in and said, “Jessie, are you OK?”
“Fine, ma,” I lied, just finishing up. I came out of the stall. “Sorry, the guest wanted room service,” I joked.
She looked at me. “Are you OK, Jessica?”
“Fine, ma. I’m just pregnant,” I said, with a weak smile, while looking at the floor.
She put her hand under my chin and pushed up. “Are you OK?”
“I told you, mom. I’m fine. I’m just nervous.”
She smiled. “That’s perfectly normal. If you want to talk, I’m always here.” ‘I know, I know,’ I thought. “It’s not good to keep things bottled up.”’
I smiled. “I know, mom,” I said, washing my hands from my fake bathroom visit. “Thanks.”
She gave me a kiss. “You don’t need to thank me. I’m your mother. Are you sure you’re OK?”
“Yes, mom,” I said, in the tone of a fourteen year old girl. “I’m fine.” I wasn’t fine.
We went back to the table and a bottle of wine was there. And a club soda. “What’s this?”
My father smiled and pointed to the table next to ours. “Congratulations,” said the couple.
“Thank you,” I said, blushing. “You didn’t have to. Thanks.”
The woman said, “You look marvelous. How are you feeling?”
I guessed that this was now a regular topic. I was going to have new cards printed up. ‘Seven weeks. Tired,’ and for women, ‘I pee like a racehorse and my boobs are sore.’ “Really, really tired.”
She smiled, “It gets better. Then worse. Then better. Then they want a car,” and Evelyn and my mother laughed. The husband looked at Danny and said, ‘You are screwed for the next eight months. Just realize that,’ and Marty and my father laughed.
The waitress brought our food. Marty looked at his sea bass, which had spinach on the plate. “I thought it came with corn.”
She looked at him. “I’m sorry, but your order doesn’t come with corn.” She leaned over and whispered to me, “I heard you say that you couldn’t handle it. I couldn’t take tomatoes.” I smiled and mouthed, ‘thanks.’ I could get used to this kind of treatment.
We finished the meal with chocolate cake, compliments of the restaurant. I could really get used to this kind of treatment. “Does anyone want some?” I said.
“Eat, Teddy,” my dad said. Through the whole meal, he kept calling me Teddy. He hadn’t lost his grin the rest of the night. He kept asking if I needed anything. My mother looked at him and said, “Two pregnancies. You were never this nice to me.”
“Yes, I was,” he said. I could tell he was lying.
She looked at the table. “He timed both so that I was six months during tax season.”
“Yeah, well, anyway,” he said, with a big grin. “Teddy, eat. You need strength. You’re eating for two.”
“I don’t need cake, daddy. Besides, the baby’s like the size of a raspberry,” I said, picking one off the plate and popping it in my mouth,
“Cannibal,” Danny said. We both laughed and they all looked at us. “Inside joke.”
The check came and Marty waved over the waitress. “I’ve got it. My treat.”
My dad looked at him and said, “My daughter, Marty. My treat.” Now, they had the Macron-Trump death grip on the check folio.
Danny looked at them and put his hand on the folio. “My wife. My baby. My treat,” he said, with a smile, looking mostly at his father. I knew he was angry though. I could see the vein in the side of his head, the one Jess used to say popped out when I was angry, pop out.
That they could agree on. “Absolutely not, Daniel,” Evelyn said. “Martin,” and he knew he was in trouble because she called him that, “Dave, split the check.” She smiled at me, “That’s an unappealable ruling.”
My father laughed, “Yes, your honor.” My mother didn’t.
As we were walking out, I turned to my mother and Evelyn, “Remember you two. No one. You can’t tell anyone. Not Carole. Not Helene. Not Mona. No one. Not even Jill and Laura. We want to tell them ourselves. Got it?” I put my hands on my hips for emphasis. I caught myself in the glass and had to laugh at the ridiculousness. “I’m serious. I’m also really, really tired. So goodnight,” I said, giving everyone a kiss and a hug. Marty and Evelyn caught a cab. Evelyn said, “I’ll call you in the morning, Jess,” which was not lost on my mother.
My father said, “we’ll drive you.”
I smiled. “We’ll be fine. Maybe we’ll walk awhile. The air will do me good.”
“No,” he said. “I’ll drive you. You’re tired.”
“Where did you park, daddy?”
“69th and 3rd.” The restaurant was on 63rd and 2nd. We lived at 55th and 1st.
“Daddy. You want me to walk six blocks north and 1 block west, and we live south and east. Besides, you can catch the Drive at 62nd and be on your way.” He looked upset so I said, “we’ll walk with you to the car. I could use the exercise.”
“Are you sure? Is that OK?”
I sighed, “yes, daddy. I’m going to be walking for the next eight months. I’ll be fine.” I took his hand and we started to walk.
My mother looked at us, then Danny. “You should have such a relationship with your daughter,” she said, with a tone somewhere between affection and irritation. Danny gave her a nauseous smile.
I looked up at my father and smiled. He was so happy. I was happy.
We walked into the apartment, and I laid on the bed. “What a day. That went well,” I said, with a smile.
Danny laid down next to me, “That was something alright.”
He seemed annoyed. “What?” I said.
“Nothing. It was so cute, you and your daddy,” he said, drawing out daddy.
“Stop, he was happy for us,” I said, blushing.
“I know, I know. It’s just so cute. He really loves you. It drives Barb crazy.”
“They were all happy for us. I mean, I figured that they would be.”
He just said, “yeah.”
“What’s up?” I said, putting my head on his chest, looking up. “You’ve been out of it all night.”
“Nothing. It went as I expected.”
“What does that mean?”
“It means they were all thrilled. My mom reacted exactly as I thought she would. You’re having her grandchild.”
“Stop. I’m having OUR child. She’s thrilled for US. Not me. Us. She said we’re going to be great.”
“She said you would be. Then she added me.” He looked at me. “You were eating it up,” he said, with a huge grin. “When everyone applauded…”
“I was mortified.”
“Oh, please, you girl. You were loving every second of it. All hail the mommy to be!” He stuck his arm up in salute.
I looked at him and straightened his arm. If you’re going to salute, salute correctly. “That’s right. You better hail me. You heard the guy. I am right and you are wrong and that’s that,” I said, kissing him. “Are you sure you’re OK?”
“Yes,” he said. “I’m fine. What happened in the bathroom?”
“I had to go,” I said, in a duh tone.
“That’s a lot of peeing. Seriously though…”
“Seriously, that was it.” How could I explain to Danny, after all that we had been through, that now I was freaking out about being a woman? This is what we wanted, what I wanted. I wanted a kid and now I was having one. Me.
He smiled, and in the smile I saw Jess for a second. “If you want to talk about it, I’m here.”
I smiled, “I know. But there’s nothing to talk about it. Same applies for you though.” I got up and put on a pink nightie. I figured that I didn’t have a lot longer in it.
-------------------------------
October 29. I was seventeen weeks pregnant. The baby was now the size of a pomegranate. I made a note to avoid Mona, in case there was any residual nausea.
I had met Sammie and Charlotte at a Halloween party at Charlotte’s music class. Basically, the mothers and fathers shook maracas and played drums, while the kids put various objects in their mouths.
The teacher, such as she was, was about 24, with long brown hair and the sort of body I had come to resent. She was wearing a t shirt and skinny jeans and all the dads kept checking out her ass which was, to be fair, spectacular. Bitch. Everything on her body was still where it was supposed to be, while every day mine was changing from the kind that got looks from men to the kind that got seats on the subway and I wondered if I’d ever get back. Danny kept telling me that I never looked more beautiful but I knew he was full of shit. I’d look at myself in the mirror, at my swollen breasts and thickening calves and ask how I got here. Everyone told me that I had a glow and that my hair looked fuller, but I felt awful. On doctor’s orders, I had stopped running and spin class. Instead, I swam which made me feel like a manatee.
“OK, who’s ready for ‘The Noble Duke of York?’” the teacher said in a chipper tone. “Big finish.” I wondered what she said when she was out with her friends. I had a mental picture of her in a sweaty punk club dancing away the screaming children and the leering dads and drinking every time someone mentioned wheels or buses. One little boy, dressed up like Superman, wandered off to lick the guitar. I tried to imagine what his thought process was. ‘Hmmm, that looks interesting. I wondered what it tastes like.’ His mom mumbled, “I’m ready for a drink.”
Charlotte sat in my lap, holding a plastic egg that she could shake. She was dressed like a little lady bug and was, objectively speaking, absolutely adorable. She was ten months old now with Sammie’s dark hair and Jon’s green eyes. She had started crawling and was pulling herself up, but couldn’t walk yet. She still had a pudgy little belly that I had to poke my knuckle in and say ‘beep’ every time I saw her. Today, for the first time, she looked at my belly and poked it. I said ‘beep’ and laughed but felt mortified. Even a ten-month old thought I looked fat. Don’t get me wrong. I was the happiest I had ever been. I would walk around touching my stomach and looking at my reflection. I read to the baby every night, from whatever I was reading. This week, the baby went to sleep to the sweet sounds of pages 30-65 of a condominium offering plan. On the other hand, my boobs itched. Throughout the class, it wanted to tear them off and kept furtively reaching under my sweatshirt. Then, one of the moms laughed and said, ‘if there was ever a place where you can scratch away….’
“OK, Charlotte,” I said, “Are you ready?” Charlotte babbled at me and I said, “Really? OK! I’ll take that as a yes.” Sammie sat on the floor next to me, with a set of antennae on her head. If you had asked me which was more likely ten months ago, a zebra running backward down Third Avenue or Sammie sitting on the floor of a basement music room wearing antennae, I would have taken the zebra, hands down. When I saw her put them on, I started to laugh and she just looked at me and said, ‘oh please, Jess, you’ll be wearing the whole costume.’ The sad part was she was right. The sadder part was that I couldn’t wait.
After class finished, we went for coffee. Charlotte didn’t want to go in the stroller. When Sammie went to put her in, she went rigid which I was told was normal behavior for a ten month old. I picked her up and said, “that’s OK, Charlotte, Aunt Jessica’s here,” and I carried her on my hip. As we walked, Sammie pushed the empty stroller, while I talked to Charlotte, in response to the babbling. “Why yes, Charlotte, we are walking down Vanderbilt. Very good. You are so smart,” I said, in a higher register than I usually used, and then I kissed her on the nose. Which I had been doing all day.
Sammie laughed and said, “I would love to take a video of you and show it to the people you work with. They wouldn’t believe it.” I laughed nervously and she looked at me and said, “you still haven’t told them, have you?” I looked at the trees, the cars, anywhere but Sammie. “You haven’t. What’s up?”
We were now sitting at the coffee place. “I’m not ready yet,” I said, bouncing Charlotte up and down.
“You said you were going to tell them last week,” she said, scolding me. “Um, and don’t take my head off, you’re starting to show. How long do you plan to wait?”
I pulled down on my sweatshirt, as if to hide what I had wanted so badly. “You just don’t get it. You don’t get what’ll happen when I tell them.”
“They’ll be happy? You said Mike loves you. Besides, they can’t do anything. That’s discrimination. That’s what it says in our employee handbook.”
“Yeah, well, law firms write those, they don’t follow them. They don’t think the law applies to them.”
“Jess,” she said, putting her hand on mine. “You have to say something eventually. What are you going to do, call in sick when you’re in labor?” She started to laugh, “Hang on a sec, Mike,” and then she yelled, which made Charlotte laugh and then babble. “See, even Charlotte knows. That’s right Charlotte. Tell Aunt Jessie she’s being ridiculous.”
“Very funny, Sammie. I’m just scared.” I was. I had kept up my ridiculous billing, even through morning sickness and being constantly tired. In my first trimester, there were times that I was passing out at my desk and cursing the ‘no caffeine’ rule, but nevertheless I persisted. I had billed 220 per month for the first three.
“You’ll be fine, Jessie. You bill like a maniac. You will be fine.” I wanted to believe that. I wanted to believe that they would recognize my hard work and not punish me for having a baby. I needed to believe that. But I had read enough blogs and listserv posts to know that I didn’t. “Has Dan said anything at work yet?”
“No,” I said. Every couple of days, he’d ask if I did. And every couple of days, I’d say no and he’d look disappointed and ask why. Initially, I said, ‘technically, I have told them,’ having told Robin after I took the test. He wasn’t amused. Lately, he had stopped asking why and was starting to look frustrated. “I know, I know. I’m a bad wife. I’m a bad pregnant lady.”
She laughed. “You just have to pull off the Band Aid already. Stop being a jackass.” I smiled. With that, I knew that I was in trouble.
Monday morning, Danny and I were eating breakfast. “I’m doing it today,” I said.
“Really?” he said, clearly not believing me.
“I’m serious,” I said. “I mean it. Look at my outfit.” I was wearing a blue and white dress with horizontal stripes. I didn’t have a big belly yet but, in this outfit, you could see my swollen boobs and the fact that my waist wasn’t what it used to be. “I can’t hide it in this, true?”
He smiled. “You are to call me, young lady, after you tell Mike. No ifs, ands or buts.”
I flirted. “What if I don’t?” I said, kissing him on the cheek.
He laughed, “I will come there and embarrass you. Better yet, Barb will come,” and he swatted me on the ass.
“Nooo,” I said, in a joking manner. I wasn’t joking. “I’ll do it. I promise.”
“Fine. Speaking of which, have you made plans with her yet?” This was a big sticking point. She had wanted to go baby furniture shopping with me for weeks. She was turning my old room into a baby’s room and wanted to see what I wanted. I had been putting her off for weeks, claiming work and being tired. Danny looked at me, “come on already….why are you doing this to her?”
I knew he was right but I just couldn’t deal with her, not yet. “One thing at a time.”
He sighed and rolled his eyes. “You’re being mean but whatever. She’s your mom.”
“That’s right. She is. I’ll deal with her. But I promise. I will tell Mike first thing, OK?”
He shook his head and kissed me on the lips. “Can I tell you how beautiful you look?”
“You can,” I said, with a smile.
He laughed, “Thanks. I just wanted to make sure it was OK. In case I decided to tell you.” I stuck out my tongue at him and he hugged me.
I got to the office and took a deep breath before I walked in. ‘You can do this,’ I thought. ‘You can totally do this. You’re not the first person to do this. Every other mom here has done this. Just do it.’
Lourdes, the receptionist, looked at me. “You OK, Jessica?”
“Yeah, fine. Why?” I said, doing everything I could not to check out my reflection in front of her.
“You looked like you were thinking about something,” she said, looking me up and down and smiling.
I laughed. “Nah. Nothing. Something at home. Mike in yet?”
“Yeah, got in about fifteen minutes ago.”
“Thanks,” I said, as I went to my office, took off my coat and put down my bag. I looked at my desk and saw the motion I was marking up. ‘Just take care of that first,’ I thought. Then, I said, ‘no, Jessica. You need to do this. You need to do this now. You need to do this for the pomegranate,’ and I touched my stomach.
I walked over to Mike’s office. His secretary Jeanine was at her desk. She had been his secretary for 30 years. Everyone knew not to cross Jeanine. When I started, his wife told me, ‘do not cross Jeanine. If it comes down to someone else and her, she wins, me included,’ she said with a laugh but without a joke. She wasn’t bad just protective. “Hey, Jeanine,” I said, “good morning. How’s everything? How’s Frank?”
She smiled. “I didn’t kill him yet.”
I smiled, “Day’s still young.” This had been our running joke for years. Even when I was Dan, she and I got along, mostly because I never asked for much from her and was overly solicitous when I did. “Is he in?”
She picked up her phone, “You in for Jess, old man?” She really was his second wife. “Go in.”
“Hey, Jess, what’s up?” he said. “This on the Keller motion?”
I closed the door and said, “Mind if I sit?”
“Oh shit,” he said. “You’re giving me notice, aren’t you? You can’t do this. I depend on you.” I knew he did. He told me that when we went to lunch the week before last, when I almost told him. I didn’t want to spoil the mood.
I took a deep breath and said, “I’m giving you notice, just a different kind,” I said. “I, well, I don’t know how to say this, so I just will.” My palms felt sweaty. I felt short of breath. “I’m pregnant.”
He broke into a huge grin. “Mazel tov! How far along are you?” He seemed genuinely happy for me. He got up from his desk and gave me a hug.
“Seventeen weeks,” I said. “Four months.”
“Everything OK?” He looked concerned.
“Fine,” I said, knocking on his desk. “All good.”
He kept smiling and picked up his phone, “Get in here, Jeanine.”
She walked in. “What? I have to work to avoid.”
“Ah, shut up,” he said. “Tell her Jess.” Before I could say something, he said, “Jess is pregnant.”
She gave me a hug. “Congratulations. I thought you might be,” she said, with a smile.
“Why? Do I look fat?”
Mike mumbled something like ‘you’re all the same,’ and Jeanine said, “Not at all. You look gorgeous. It’s not that at all. I saw doctor’s appointments on your calendar and I noticed the way that you were rubbing your calf when Feldstein was here. When I was pregnant with Bill, my legs knotted up something terrible. Drink a lot of water. It helps.”
Mike smiled. “My little Silverman. Just yesterday, you were a summer associate. Remember, Jeanine? The eager little beaver? ‘Anything else, sir?’ And now look at you. You’re having a baby.” He pointed at the picture on his desk. It was his three kids, at the youngest’s high school graduation. “It goes fast, faster than you think,” he said. “Enjoy the quiet now, right Jeanine?” She just smiled. “How’s Dan doing?”
I looked at Jeanine and she gave him a look of contempt. “Yeah, Jess, how is he? Peeing a lot? Calves tightening?” she said. Mike looked at her, shook his head and smiled.
“He’s good,” I said. “Great. Let me go tell him I told you.”
I walked to my office, feeling ridiculous that I was afraid. Mike seemed genuinely happy for me. He told me that he depended on me. It was going to be OK, I was going to be OK, I thought.
------
I met Danny for dinner that night at an Italian restaurant near his office.
He gave me a kiss. “See, I told you it wouldn’t be that bad. You were worried. He depends on you. Did you tell anyone else?”
I laughed. “I didn’t have to. Once Jeanine knew, it was all done. I mean, first, the admins came in. Jasmine was so sweet, said I looked beautiful…” I looked at him. He smiled and said ‘you do’. “Then they all stood around me and decided what we were having…”
He laughed, “which is?”
“Well, based on voting, a hermaphrodite apparently. Then, Victoria came in and told me how great it was but a lot of work, and it kept going like that all day. I mean I should probably go back to work and make up the time. I’m afraid now though…”
“Why?” He looked amused.
“I have now heard literally everything that can go wrong in a pregnancy. I don’t know what’s going to happen, but if we have a three headed baby, don’t be surprised.”
He laughed, but with a look in his eye. “Yeah, welcome to pregnancy. When Melissa was pregnant with Ben, I remember how everyone used to tell her stories. What did you say? It’s like sports for guys.”
I laughed, “So, how did it go?”
“It went fine, great. Everyone congratulated me. Bruce told me to watch out. Melissa told me congratulations and said she’s going to call you.” He had a smile but his tone was, for lack of a better word, terse.
“Are you OK, Danny?”
“I’m fine,” he said, his leg bouncing up and down, which it did when he was agitated. When he saw me look at it, he put his hand on it.
“You sure? You seem bothered about something.”
He smiled, “Not at all. I’m just glad we told everyone already. It was about time,” he said, giving me a kiss that felt perfunctory.
“Yeah yeah yeah,” I said. “Well, we’re done.”
We ate dinner and walked home. “Seriously, Danny, are you OK?”
He sighed, “I am fine, Jessa. Do you feel better now?”
“Yes,” I said, looking up at him. “I’m sorry I was worried about it. I have a right to be worried. I mean remember Lindsay?” Lindsay was an associate who went out on maternity leave. Six months after she came back, she was let go for ‘non-performance.’
He swung my hand in a lazy arc. “You said she was incompetent.”
“I mean, she was but it was like they waited for her to have a baby to fire her. What if they do that to me?”
“Mike,” and I would swear that I heard annoyance in his voice, “told you he depends on you. Clients love you. You will be fine.”
“I’m sorry if I’m annoying you but I’m just scared. I’ve worked really hard.”
He stopped and looked at me. “You’re not annoying me and you have every right to be scared. But don’t be. Nothing is going to happen and if it does, we’ll figure it out.”
“What does we’ll figure it out mean?”
He realized his mistake and tried to backpedal. “It means, before it does, you’ll find something. Or we’ll live off my salary until you do.”
He meant well. He was trying to assuage my fears. He was failing, not for lack of effort but he was. “I don’t want to find something else or live off of you…”
He rolled his eyes. “YOU wouldn’t be living off of ME. WE would be living off of my salary. Just like, if I decided to be a stay-at-home dad, WE would be living off of yours.” He looked up at the sky and then smiled, “You know what? I think that’s the plan. I’m going to stay home with Pomo and we’ll live off of your salary. And I have a lifestyle to which I want to become accustomed. So, hop to it,” and he clapped his hands twice, in quick succession. “Chop chop.”
I looked at him and blew a raspberry. Intellectually, I understood what he was saying but still wondered if I’d be OK.
------------
Three weeks later, my dad called me at work. “Hey, daddy,” I said. He called at least once a week to check on me. We told them thirteen weeks ago, which meant that he had called me thirteen more times than he had when I was Dan.
It was hard to imagine that time now. I could remember specific events (my bar mitzvah, graduation, my wedding) but, as time and my pregnancy wore on, I saw Jessa in them. Recently, I had been having strange dreams, which were apparently normal during this phase of the pregnancy. It was my wedding and I was wearing the lace and taffeta dress I had loved so much in Florida, with flowers in my hair. When we stood outside the doors to the hall, I was Dan. I was taller than my father but he just kept saying, “are you ready, sweetie?” When the doors opened, I looked down the aisle and saw Jess in a tuxedo.everyone gasped and pointed. I wanted to run and my father just said, “don’t worry so much.” He touched my face and suddenly I was Jessa and she was Danny.
“Hey, sweetie, how are you feeling? How’s banana?” My dad was fascinated by how they knew how big your baby was, especially relative to food. He had downloaded the app, ‘skipping all the disgusting parts,’ and checked every week. Two weeks ago, he asked about ‘arty the artichoke;’ two weeks before that, it was ‘avocado.’ I was now twenty weeks which meant ‘banana.’ It drove my mother crazy. I thought it was cute but, then again, he was my daddy - and I didn’t live with him.
“Appealing,” I said, laughing at my own awful joke. “Me, my legs hurt, I’m short of breath and I have heartburn…”
He laughed, “I must be pregnant.” I left off the vaginal discharge and the colostrum leaking from my breasts. Apparently, I was already preparing to breastfeed. Every time I thought about that, I smiled, picturing feeding little Emma, bonding her to me. He had a wife and two daughters, but some bridges were too far to cross.
“Very funny? What’s going on?”
“I was calling to see if Danny wanted to come to the Giants game against Green Bay Sunday. A client gave me seats.”
I was hurt. He and I used to go and now he was inviting Danny. “What about me? We used to go.” He and I did, when I was Dan. I didn’t know if that was still true but I figured it couldn’t hurt.
“I remember,” he said. “You had that crush on Luke Petigout,” an offensive lineman, “for some reason.” I guess we went. “I wasn’t worried, know why?”
“Why?” I said, waiting for an awful joke.
“I knew if he tried something and you tried to get away, you’d blow right past him. Why we drafted him in the first round...”
“That joke was awful. Well, why aren’t you inviting me?”
“It’s too cold. I’m not having frozen banana,” he said, laughing.
“Haha. I’ll wear a coat. Why can’t I go?”
“You can do something with your mother.” He paused and got serious. “You SHOULD do something with your mother.”
“I’ve done stuff with her,” I lied. I had done stuff with her present. “We went to Michelle’s baby shower last week, for example.”
“Jessica, that’s not what I mean and you know it. I’d like you to do this for me. It’s bothering her.” It was bothering Danny too. After we told everyone, he asked for a few days and then stopped, saying ‘I can’t believe you’re doing this…’
“I’m not trying to hurt her, daddy,” I mumbled.
“I know, but she wants to spend time with you. Do this for me OK, sweetie? She’s driving me crazy,” I laughed.
“It’s a short drive, David,” I said, in her voice. He laughed. “Fine, I will,” I said.
He laughed, “don’t tell her it was my idea.”
“Oh, like that’s a good idea for either of us,” I said. Then I paused. “Hey, daddy, can we go to a game together?”
He stopped for a second and I was worried that he’d say no. That I wasn’t his buddy anymore, just the mother of his grandchild. “I’d like that,” he said. “Knicks game OK? It’s too cold and I’m not having frozen cantaloupe.” Clearly, he had skipped ahead in the app.
“Banana has to learn heartbreak sometime,” I said. “I’ll look at the schedule and get tickets. Thanks, daddy.”
He seemed surprised. “For what?”
I was still smiling. “For being the best daddy in the whole world.” I almost made myself throw up. “I’ll let Dan know about the game.”
I hung up and looked at the phone. I needed to call her. I didn’t want to. I had projects to get done and couldn’t give her the time that she needed, or at least wanted. I decided to wait until I got home.
I walked in the door and gave Danny a kiss. “Hey honey.”
“Hey, Jessa,” he said, giving me a kiss back. Then he leaned down to my stomach. I was now visibly pregnant, with a round belly and swollen boobs. “Hey, baby,” he said, kissing my stomach. “It’s me, the daddy person. How was your day? Was the mommy OK?”
“The mommy was fine. My dad invited you to a Giants game Sunday. Green Bay. You’re going.”
He smiled, “I’d love to. He’s going to give me the talk, isn’t he? What about you?”
“He doesn’t want a frozen banana,” I laughed.
Dan rolled his eyes. “Jesus. He’s not letting that go, is he?”
“Oh come on, he’s excited about being a grandpa again.” He smirked at again, thinking I missed it.
He took my phone and called up my mother’s number. “Call her.”
“What? Did my dad call you?”
“Huh?” he said, taking off his shirt. My libido was still running high.
I put down the phone. “She can wait,” I purred.
He put on a t-shirt. “Nice try, Jessa. Call her.” I put my arms around his waist which used to be much easier a few months ago. He moved them off, “Call. No special Danny loving for you until you do.”
I retched. “I hope I wasn’t that bad.” The look on his face said I was. “Fine.”
I called her. “Hey, mom!”
“Oh hi, Jessica,” she said, warily. “What’s up?” Jessica. Oh shit. Not quite Jessica Renee or Jessica Renee Richman, but not good either.
“Well, I was wondering...Daddy invited Danny to the Giants game Sunday and I was wondering if you wanted to come in, have a girls day, just us. Whatever you want to do.” I looked at Danny and mouthed, ‘happy?’
There was an interminable silence that I was later told was about three seconds. “I would like that, Jessica. That would be wonderful.”
“Me too. I’ve wanted to do it since forever but work has been crazy busy, you know?” I hoped the lie worked. “Almost bonus time.”
“I know but you need to relax, Jessie.” Jessie. The lie worked. “You’re going to be very busy in a few months,” she said in her sing-songy tone. “Have you been looking at things for the nursery yet?”
“We can go do that.” With a quick stop at the gun store, so I could shoot myself. “That’ll be fun,” I said. Like root canal.
“Mona was saying that they’re going to induce Shelly in a week if she doesn’t go into labor before then. Do you remember Naomi Moskoff?” I looked at Danny and mouthed ‘I hate you’ and he smiled. And then my mother went off on a story about someone I vaguely remembered, maybe a Hebrew school classmate of Laura’s, who had to be induced and then, after 42 hours of labor (which was slightly shorter than it took to tell the story), ended up getting a C-section. Everyone seemed to like telling me stories of interminable labor.
I got off the phone and Danny kissed me on the nape of my neck and then my earlobe. “You’re lucky I’m horny,” I said.
Sex was becoming more and more difficult. We could do it doggy-style but, after all these years, I still couldn’t enjoy myself. It made me feel gross and used. I needed to see Danny’s face or, at least, be on top. From behind felt, well, weird. It was ridiculous. I wasn’t Dan. I was Jessa. I was a woman. I was a woman who liked silk and lace. A woman who liked being sexy and pretty and feminine. A woman who couldn’t wait to be a mommy. But having sex doggy style triggered something in me.
And me on top was getting harder. I wasn’t heavier than I was when we changed, in fact I was fifteen pounds lighter, but maybe it was all in my belly. Maybe it was the distribution of weight but Danny said the last time that we tried, ‘please don’t hit me but my legs are starting to get numb.’ I hit him and then climbed off.
So, here we were. Me with my ass bolstered by two pillows and Danny standing off the bed, pumping away. I felt disconnected from him. He wasn’t touching me. He wasn’t looking at me. We were just getting a release, not making love. He came. I didn’t. “Hey, honey,” I said, “come and lie next to me.” I needed to feel the closeness, his skin on mine. He laid down next to me and started tracing circles on my belly, giving it little kisses, while I played with his hair. This was what I needed.
------------------------------------------
Friday morning, 11 AM.
The day had started off great. The morning sickness had passed and I was now halfway to being a mommy.
I was in the bathroom, when Danny snuck up behind me. He put his hands around me and said, “Caught you!”
I blushed. I had been admiring myself in the mirror. “I feel ridiculous.” I had been looking at myself in the mirror. I had a round belly, not huge but pronounced. I loved my bump and couldn’t wait for it to get bigger.
He kissed me on the neck. “You look gorgeous,” he said, rubbing my belly. “Every day, you get even more gorgeous.” He leaned down and kissed my belly. “Good morning, baby.”
I got dressed and went downstairs. Jose, the day doorman, said, “good morning, Mrs. Silverman. Cab?”
It was about 50 degrees and sunny. “Good morning, Jose. It’s a nice day. I think I’ll walk a while. I could use the exercise..” I started walking down the street, smiling. An older man walked past, looked me up and down and gave me a smile. A pregnant woman walked past, her three year old son holding her hand, and she gave me a nod of recognition. I was part of something, something bigger than me. It felt utterly ridiculous and egotistical, but I had a person inside of me, a person who depended on me for life. And I liked that feeling.
I tried to walk to the office, but got tired halfway there. At 50th Street, I caught the 6 train. The platform was three deep. I was ready to wait for a train, when a young guy, about 19, said, “go ahead, ma’am.” He moved aside three other people to let me on.
“Thanks,” I said, giving him a smile. “You didn’t have to.”
He looked me up and down and said, with a laugh, “my mom would kill me if I didn’t.” He meant well and I appreciated it. But, on some level, it hurt. Five months ago, if he noticed me, it would have been to give me the once over. Now…..
I went into the office and turned on my computer. Pinned to the bulletin board above my desk was a sonogram. You could see the baby. The picture was murky, but it was the baby. During the appointment, when the tech was doing it, it looked like the head was separate from the body but she said, ‘everything looks great.’ We looked at each other and shrugged, figuring if she didn’t have a problem with a headless baby, why should we? I kissed my fingertips then touched the picture, just like I did every morning.
I began working on a brief. Bonus time was coming up and I needed to show them that I was still going full force. After the first week, the novelty of my pregnancy had worn off. Jasmine would ask how I was doing every so often, and Jeanine would always check in after doctor’s appointments, but that was about it. People had their own concerns and there wasn’t much to say other than, ‘feeling great, thanks for asking.’ It was silly to think that my pregnancy should have mattered to them, no matter how much it mattered to me. Around 11 AM, I got up to stretch my legs and get a drink of water. I wanted coffee - badly - and knew that one cup wouldn’t harm the baby. The studies showed that one cup a day had no negative effects but I didn’t want to risk it. If that was wrong and something happened, I couldn’t live with myself. It wasn’t worth a cup of coffee for that.
The kitchen was down two hallways from my office, which was fine. Dr. Andopolis had told me to ‘make sure that you walk as much as possible during the day. You need to keep those muscles stretched and limber.’ As I approached the kitchen, I heard Doug, a male associate in corporate say:
“the body’s nowhere what it used to be, but the tits look amazing,” while another male associate laughed.
I stopped for a second and felt short of breath. I rested my hand on the wall and thought, ‘they didn’t see you. What makes you think they were talking about you? When did you become such an egomaniac?’ I walked into the kitchen, to their stares. “Excuse me guys,” I said, going to the watercooler. I willed myself to look at Doug, “don’t let me interrupt your discussion.” I filled my glass, took a sip and said, “I don’t know who she is, but really guys, free piece of advice. Locker room talk may make some people president. Not you,” and I smiled.
I walked back to my office, closed the door and cried. I picked up the phone to call Danny and then put it down. I looked at the sonogram and thought about my baby. ‘You can do this. They will not break you. Maybe you’re not who you were, but you are who you are.’ The question was who was that?
-------------------
It was Sunday morning. I looked at the weather report. It was 45 degrees and sunny. I had hoped for a freak hurricane that would prevent her from coming in. It just needed to hit Rockland County and the city; I didn’t want to spoil the Giants game. I tried to imagine my father grilling Danny over the baby and had to laugh.
“Are you sure you don’t want to come?” I said to Laura.
“Oh stop it, Jess, it won’t be that bad,” she said, laughing and then ‘Tuck, put that down.’
““Please.” I started coughing. “I think I’m coming down with something. I’m contagious. She shouldn’t come.”
“Oh stop it,” Laura laughed. “When did you get so melodramatic?” ‘Hold on Tuck, it’s Aunt Jessie.’
“I’m not melodramatic. She’s annoying.”
She sighed, “She’s not that bad. I’m glad you’re doing this.” ‘Where’s daddy? Go find daddy!’
“Everyone keeps saying that. Like she’s not my mom. I’m not doing anything.”
“I know. I know.” ‘Tuck, NO!’ “This is making her really happy. It’s really hurt her, you know.”
I felt like shit. “What’s hurt her?”
“OK, look, don’t take my head off…” Whenever someone begins a sentence that way, I tense up. “She feels left out.”
“Left out of what?”
She sighed. “You. Your pregnancy. The baby.”
“I’m not leaving her out of anything. What am I leaving her out of?”
“The doctor’s appointments. The shopping. The everything. I mean all she’s talked to me about is how Michelle is always doing stuff with Mona…”
I laughed, “And all Michelle has told me is how Mona’s driving her crazy.”
She laughed. “No fucking shit. That master’s in duh is really paying off. Of course, she is. She drove me fucking nuts. We went crib shopping. By the time we were done, I told her I was going to put Tuck in a shoe box. I was afraid to go to the OB because of what she’d say. ‘Well, so Sheila Hecht was telling me how Stacy’s doctor lost a speculum in there but,’” and she spat three times, “‘the baby is fine.’” We both started giggling and then she got serious. “Seriously, Jess, she feels left out. She can almost take you and dad and the food jokes…” ‘Jeremy, can you please take Tucker anywhere?’
“Those are cute.” They were. That was me and my daddy.
She made a retching noise. “But, and don’t take my head off, please don’t bring up Evelyn.”
I got defensive, “I don’t bring up Evelyn. She does. Besides, I talk to Evelyn about work.”
“Yeah, well, whatever. Don’t talk about work then.”
“That’s not fair. That’s who I am.”
She sighed. “Be someone else for the day, Jess then.” ‘He needs a hat.’ “Oh god, let me go take care of this.” ‘Christ, Jeremy. No, Tuck, that’s not OK to say.’ “Please. For me. Love you.”
Danny came out. He was wearing jeans and had his Giants sweatshirt and a ski hat in his hand. “Do you have sweats on too?”
He smiled, “Yes…”
“It gets cold there. Like twenty degrees colder.” MetLife Stadium was in the Meadowlands, formerly known as the Great Swamp of New Jersey. There was nothing around it to block the wind and it was a miserable place to sit in November.
“Yes, dear,” he said, giving me a kiss. “Are you ready?”
“Yeah yeah yeah.”
“It’ll be fine. This means a lot to her, you know that.”
I sighed, “I know.”
“She’s not that bad,” he said.
I smiled, “maybe she’ll get stuck in traffic.” My father was going to drive her in and then drive Danny out. I told him that there was a train stop right outside the stadium and that it made no sense to come in to drive back out. After ten minutes, and ‘your mother’s going to park in a garage,’ he agreed.
“Stop,” he said, pulling on his sweatshirt. “Have a positive attitude.”
I took my fingers and turned up the corners of my mouth. “Positive!”
He gave me a kiss. “That’s the spirit. Wish me luck!” Yeah, you need luck.
I went to get ready. I was trying to decide what to wear. If I were going to be practical, I would have chosen stretch pants and a sweater. I didn’t want to be practical, I wanted to feel feminine, to feel like me. I chose a blue sweater dress, black tights and boots. I had my hair blown out the day before. Since Friday, I felt a need to assert control over my life. I couldn’t control work. I couldn’t control the changes in my body. What I could control was how I looked and I was going to do that, at least.
An hour later, my mom showed up. “Hey, sweetheart,” she said, giving me a kiss and a hug. “You look beautiful. I like that outfit.” ‘Thanks,’ I said. “How are you?”
“Pregnant,” I said, with a smile.
She rolled her eyes. “I’ve heard. How are you feeling?”
“Fine. Usual. It’s gross.” I don’t know why I felt awkward. She had been through this. Twice. Once with me.
She smiled. “Jessica, I did it twice. I know from gross.”
“Well, my boobs are leaking and,” and I took a deep breath. “Did you ever have..you know...stuff down there?”
She looked at me. “Vaginal discharge, Jessica?” I nodded. “It’s perfectly normal. It’s not green or yellow, is it?” I made a face. “Stop it. Yes or no.” ‘No,’ I said. “Then it’s fine. Five months it’s fine. I had it with you. What are you so afraid of?”
“I dunno. I’ve never been through this before.”
She smiled. “I have. Twice.”
“I heard,” I said, hopefully pleasantly.
“Did you hear about the 30 hours of labor? Oh never mind. That was Laura.”
I laughed. “That’s to hold over her, not me.”
She looked me up and down. “You gave me four months of heartburn….before you were born,” she said.
“Banana’s killing me with that lately,” I said.
“Try putting a pillow under your upper back. It relieves the pressure on your esophagus.”
“Seriously? I hadn’t thought of that. I’ll give it a shot.”
She gave me a half-smile. “Amazing what you can learn when you ask. So what are we doing today?”
“You tell me,” I said, fearing the answer.
“I just want to spend time with you.” I felt awful. “Have you gone crib shopping yet?”
“Laura offered me Tuck’s,” I said. She grimaced, probably because of what that meant for Laura. “But we’ll need stuff for the room,” I said, to make her feel better. “And a stroller,” I lied. Laura had offered me that too.
“Fine. So Mona said that Michelle is ready to burst…”
“She is so ready,” I said. I tried to figure out what not to say, what Michelle didn’t want broadcast back. “I think she’s been jumping up and down. I half expect a call today.”
“And that would be wonderful. I told Mona that I think it’s Monday. Joyce has Tuesday in the pool,” and off she went. I willed myself to pay attention. As I watched her, I had to smile. She was excited by all of this, by the idea that ‘the two little girls who used to play in my backyard are going to be there with their own babies soon.’ I thought back to Michelle and I playing hide and seek and had to smile. “What,” she said.
“Nothing,” I said. “Just thinking about me and Michelle. It’s happening, isn’t it?”
She touched my face and brushed back my hair. “It is. You look so beautiful,” she said. “Pregnancy really agrees with you.”
I appreciated that and thought it did, but it made me very aware of who I was. I joked, “would you tell me if I didn’t?” Before she could say something, “let’s hit Chelsea. There’s Buy Buy Baby and some other other baby stores there.”
We were walking through one store when she held up a circus-themed crib bumper. “What do you think of this?”
“No. Clowns are creepy. We’re going to scare banana.”
She rolled her eyes. “You and your father...enough already,” she laughed.
“Fine. How about this one?” It was trains.
“And if it’s a girl?”
“She can like trains.” I liked trains, I thought. “I liked trains. When did you get so sexist?” She stuck out her tongue.
We walked through the store, marking down what I wanted on a registry. She wouldn’t let me buy it. ‘God forbid,’ and she spat three time, ‘something happens. You don’t want it in the house.’ On the one hand, she was being ridiculous. On the other hand, I wasn’t superstitious but couldn’t imagine if something went wrong and I had to come home to a house full of baby things.
We went to lunch at Markt, a French bistro on 6th Avenue. “Thanks, mom,” I said.
She was looking at the menu. “For what?”
“I know French isn’t your thing. I just really wanted steak frites for some reason.”
She smiled. “Stop it. You’re pregnant. Until the baby comes, you get to choose. It almost makes up for insomnia, back pain and all that. After the baby, you’ll eat wherever you can eat fast.”
“Great...I’m looking forward to it.” I thought of eating with Tuck. Our choices were limited to any place with macaroni and cheese or chicken fingers. Maybe spaghetti and meatballs, if Tuck was feeling adventurous.
“Do you want to split the cheese croquettes?” I loved fried cheese, no matter the form. Not as much as ice cream, but a close second.
“Nah. I should really be careful,” I said.
“Careful about what? Are you having trouble with dairy?” She looked genuinely confused and concerned.
“No, not at all. I just don’t want to put on too much weight,” I said. “I’m blowing up like a balloon.”
“Jessica,” uh oh. She took my hand. “I hate to be the one to tell you but you’re pregnant.”
“Ha ha ha,” I said, twisting my engagement ring on my finger. “I’m only supposed to eat like 400 extra calories a day,” I said.
She looked at me, “Says who?”
“Baby Center. The Bump. And Dr. Andopolis says so. I don’t want to get so fat that I can’t lose it afterwards.”
“You’ll be fine,” she said, with a smile. “Stop worrying so much and enjoy your food. Six months from now, you’ll kill to have time to eat cheese croquettes and steak frites.”
“Great,” I said, “looking forward to that too.” The waiter brought over the bread basket and I took out a roll. I wasn’t sure that I wanted it but I wanted her to not look at me like I was starving her grandchild. A couple came in with a two year old boy, who was dragging a Thomas the Tank Engine backpack on the floor. His mother looked at me and gave me a half-smile as if to say ‘soon.’ The waitress came over and put a booster on a chair. His father went to lift him up and he said, ‘NO’ and tried to climb in on his own. The chair fell over and he looked like he was about to scream. My mother looked at him and then at the floor and said, ‘you put a hole in the floor! You’re going to have to fix it,’ which made him laugh. His father said, ‘thanks’ and looked at me. After two minutes, the boy started to fuss and they took an iPad from the bag. They put on a video and he calmed down.
“We never did things like that,” my mother said.
“What? Do you have a problem with it?” I asked.
She laughed. “Are you serious? I would have killed for an iPad. We just had crayons for you two.” Then she said, with an eye roll, “your father is so excited for this. He has not stopped talking about it. God only knows what’s coming from the Giants today.”
“He’s just excited.” It made me feel good, picturing my father dragging Danny through the team store. “He was this excited for Tuck too.” She just laughed, a small laugh. “Besides, every baby needs a jersey. Or four.”
Our food came. She had agonized over ordering. ‘Do I want tuna nicoise or chicken paillard?’ Then, to the waiter, ‘well, what do you recommend?’ ‘Oh, that looks interesting,’ pointing at another table. She went with salmon.
“So, what’s new at the center?” My mom worked at a family services center, volunteering with children with learning disabilities. She had been a clinical social worker before Laura was born.
“Busy. It seems like lately there’s been more kids with learning disabilities. A lot more dyslexia for some reason.”
“Do you think it’s the parents trying to get kids extra testing time? Game the system?”
She laughed, “My clients do not have the resources to game the system. These are the kids from,” and she listed a couple of towns near her with poor and minority populations. “They’re probably underdiagnosed, not over.” We talked about ADHD and autism for a while.
“Do you think there’s more now or did it just go undiagnosed before?” I said, dipping my french fry in mayonnaise. I don’t know why. I used to hate mayonnaise but had developed a taste for it lately.
“Both. On the one hand, I think, even from when I was a kid to when you were a kid, the rules changed. When I was a kid, the weird kid was just weird. You, he had issues, whatever that meant. Now he’s on the spectrum. On the other hand, with all the chemicals and hormones in the food and everything, it can’t be a good thing.”
I blurted out. “It scares me.”
“What?”
“I read all of this stuff and I’m afraid the baby will have it.”
She laughed, “I firmly believe that they should ban all pregnant women from reading for the duration of their pregnancies.”
I blushed. “I’m serious. It scares me. What if something is wrong?”
“Nothing is wrong, Jessie. My grandchild will be fine.” She didn’t even spit three times or knock on the table.
“Funny, mom.” I thought about her work at the center. I was proud of what she did. “I’m proud of you, mom.”
“Why?”
“You’re doing a good thing? Those kids need your help. Me? I protect the rich and powerful from the other rich and powerful.”
“Speaking of which, how is work?” She said, pushing around her spinach. When she didn’t like something, but knew it was good for her, she’d push it around. Apparently, according to Danny, I did the same thing.
“Busy,” I said, dipping my steak in bearnaise sauce. “Very very busy.”
“Please tell me you’re not still working crazy hours,” she said.
“It’s fine, mom. I’m fine. Besides, it’s bonus time,” I said.
“Jessica, that’s money. This is time. You need to relax.”
“I am relaxing. I did yoga and swam yesterday. That’s very relaxing.”
“That’s not what I mean. What I mean is in a few months, you will not have any time and you won’t for at least eighteen years,” she said, smiling. Jesus, I thought, let me get this one out before we rebook the room. “You will kill for a nap. You need to take time for yourself. The money will always be there.”
“Uh huh, mom. Yup, remember the money tree in the backyard?” When I was a kid and asked them for money, I was told to go to the money tree.
“The world doesn’t begin and end at Sagman Bennett, Jessie.”
“What does that mean?” I was getting aggravated.
“It means that we’re very proud of the work you do too, but it’s not the only thing in the world.”
“It’s my world,” I snapped. “I want to be partner. That’s what I’ve been working for.”
“You will make partner. You will get your bonus. But, it’s not just you anymore,” she said, putting her hand on my belly.
“I know I’m pregnant, mom,” I snarled. “And they know I’m pregnant.” Lately, I had felt like, while they weren’t taking cases from me - yet - they weren’t giving me the good ones. It felt were assigning me low grade junk, the kinds of cases you gave to an associate to prove herself. The sort where, if she did well, it helped but, if she lost, the damage could be controlled. “And I’m not going to let them use that against me.”
“Jessica, you’re getting yourself agitated over work. Over nothing.”
“It’s not nothing to me. It’s what I do. It’s who I am.” I rubbed my tights out of nervousness and frustration, so much so that, when I touched my arm, I could feel the static electricity
She looked at me. “It is what you do. It’s not who you are. Or at least it shouldn’t be.”
“Meaning?” I had to stop myself from pulling on a pill on my dress.
“Meaning there’s more to life than a bonus check. Than a big house or a boat.”
“What’s that supposed to mean? Big house? Boat? Hmmm, who could that be?”
“Oh stop it. That’s not what I meant.”
“Yeah, it is. You meant exactly that. You just don’t get it. You don’t get what’s important to me.”
She gave me a nasty smirk. “I’m sure Evelyn gets it though.”
“Yeah, she does. She encourages me. She’s proud of me.” I almost brought up how she wanted me to run for office.
She took a deep breath and paused. Very slowly and clearly, she said, “I am very proud of you, Jessica. I always have been. I am sorry that I am not an attorney,” I noticed that she used that and not ‘lawyer’, “and that I can’t discuss motions and cases and procedure with you like she can. But, make no mistake, I have always been very proud of you.” Her face was angry but I could see tears. “I am acutely aware of what she is and what I am not. But I also know what’s important. Do you?” I looked down at my plate and began cutting my steak like I was disposing of a body. I couldn’t taste it but I was hungry. “Jessica,” she said. “I’m sorry. I’m not trying to hurt you. I’m trying to help.”
I didn’t look up. “I’d hate to see what you’d do if you wanted to hurt me.”
To her credit, she didn’t respond. Instead, she went to brush my hair out of my eyes, the way she did when I was little. I moved away from her. “Jessica, I want you to have everything you want.”
“You mean everything YOU want.” I was in full bitch mode.
“No, everything YOU want. I just don’t want to see you kill yourself to get there. A bonus won’t do you any good in the hospital.”
“I know myself, ma. I know what I can do.” I still hadn’t looked up. I pushed away my plate. “I’m done. I think I want to go home, ma.” I felt like crying.
“Jessie, please. We were having a nice day. I thought you wanted to go shopping for Spain.” During the week between Christmas and New Years’, we were going to Spain, Barcelona and Madrid. I tried not to look at her, but I did. I saw the little strands of gray at her temples, creeping up on the brown. I could see the worry lines around her eyes, and the tears forming, and knew that I was the cause of them. I should have stopped. I should have accepted what she said, even if I was going to ignore it. I should have mumbled, ‘fine,’ eaten my lunch and continued shopping. If I had been able to be honest, I would have recognized why she said what she said. But, I wasn’t able. I was angry.
“I need my rest, remember?” I snapped.
“Jessie,” she said, dabbing her eyes with her napkin.
“Don’t you want to beat the traffic?” I sneered. We sat in silence until the check came. She didn’t even try to speak. I could see the fear in her eyes. She went to pay and I grabbed it. “You know it’s all about money with me…”
She began to cry. I had won. Although, if I won, I felt pretty awful. “Jessie, please.”
I went to get up. My leg had fallen asleep. I hadn’t told her but Dr. Andopolis had told me that there was a pinched nerve in my thigh. It was apparently not uncommon during pregnancy, depending on how the baby was situated, but I was told to keep off it as much as possible. That’s why I had stopped running. I stumbled a little and braced myself against someone’s chair. “Sorry,” I said, to the man sitting in it. He looked at my stomach and smiled. My mother went to grab me. “Ma, leave me alone!” The other diners turned. Nothing like a stumbling yelling pregnant woman for your lunchtime entertainment.
“Jessie, please,” and she went to take my arm.
“I will be fine,” I said, rubbing my leg. “I just want you to leave me alone.” I limped out to the street, and hailed a cab. “Bye, mom,” I snarled.
She surprised me and pushed her way into the cab. “No, Jessica.”
“Whatever. Your car’s uptown. Fine.” I immediately turned to look out the window, too angry to look at her.
She started rubbing my leg. “Is your leg bothering you?” The rubbing felt good, emotionally and physically.
“No, I limp because I always wanted to be a pirate and I’m practicing for a peg leg,” I said, not taking my eyes off the street.
“Ha ha, Jessica. I’m serious.”
“Yes, my leg is bothering me.”
“My calves bothered me something awful with Laura,” she said.
I went to say something about how mine were too, but wasn’t interested in giving her the satisfaction. Instead, I just said, “uh huh. Sorry.” She kept trying to speak and I wouldn’t answer. We got to the building and I pointedly paid for the cab. “Anyway, ma. Love you,” I said, giving her a kiss. I never left them without saying ‘I love you,’ no matter upset I was. Somewhere, I knew that one day would be the last time I’d say it and I didn’t want to miss that because of a fight.
She went to follow me in. “Jessie, please.”
I held up my hand. “I’m tired.” The doorman stared at me, like ‘you bitch.’
She slumped. “I love you too, Jessica,” and she walked away.
After she left, I beat myself up. She didn’t get what I was going through but I still felt like shit. Then I thought, ‘she started with Evelyn. I didn’t. She did.’ Then I thought, ‘but you could’ve stopped it. And you didn’t. You could’ve lied and said that you’d relax.’ I stared at the ceiling for a while. ‘Why do you care if she hates Evelyn? They don’t see each other all that much. Besides, you have to get along with them, she doesn’t.’ I picked up my phone, flipped it around and put it down. I did this three times before I dialed her. I hoped for voice mail. “Jessica.” No such luck.
“Sorry about before, ma.”
“Me too sweetie. I’m just worried about you.” She paused. “You remind me so much of Richie.” Richie was my mother’s brother. He died at 35, before I was born. I never knew what from. All I knew was that, when his name was mentioned, my grandparents would immediately change the subject.
“Richie?” I was confused. I almost joked, ‘was he pregnant too?’ But some things were not open for jokes, Richie being first.
“You are so much like him, it scares me. He was smart like you. He was funny like you. He was Grandpa Harry’s favorite like you. And he pushed himself like you. And he wouldn’t let anyone help him until,” and she started to cry. I wanted nothing more than to hug her and I couldn’t. And it was all my fault.
“What, ma? Until what?”
“Until we couldn’t. Until he was too sick.” I never knew what killed him. I tried asking Grandma Rosie once and that was the only time that she got upset at me. She said, “children don’t need to know those things.”
I took a deep breath. “Did he have AIDS, mom?” There I put it out there. He wasn’t married. It was 1982. He lived in the city. It wasn’t unreasonable.
She regained composure. “No. Yes, he was gay. But, no, it wasn’t AIDS. He had lymphoma. Not that it matters in the end.” I could hear the catch in her voice. She took a second to compose herself. “He died too young. And he wouldn’t let me help. Every time you say you’re fine, I hear his laugh. I hear, ‘I got it, Barb. The position of crazy lady is filled’...he meant Grandma.”
“I figured,” I laughed, to break the tension.
“‘But, if we have an opening, we’ll keep your resume on file.’ Well, anyway, he had it all under control. Right until Sloan-Kettering.”
“Jesus, mom. I didn’t know…” I felt like throwing up.
“I know that. And, before you say anything, I know what you’re going to say. And, no, I’m not comparing pregnancy to...what he had. You know your middle name is for him.” In Jewish tradition, you named a baby for someone who had died. What it meant in practice was you chose a name you liked and found a relative who fit.
“I thought it was Uncle Ruby, I said.” My grandfather’s uncle.
She gave a quick cough. “That’s what I told your grandparents. It was Richie. She would have said it was a kaynahorah,” bad luck. “And you take after him. I just hate seeing you kill yourself for nothing.”
“It’s not nothing. I just want to be partner is all. I’m just trying for it.”
“Jessica, despite what you may think, I want that for you too. That’s what you want. I am very proud of you. Very, very proud. You are a wonderful woman.” That felt strange to hear. “And you will be a wonderful partner. But, let me ask you, if they cut your bonus by ten percent, would you and Dan be on the street?”
“No, but banana is coming and I remember someone joking about how expensive we were. We need the bonus.” I joked.
“Jessica, stop joking around. Would it change your life?”
I wanted to say that she didn’t get it. That, if you worked ten percent less, you got twenty percent less, if you’re lucky. How you were only as good as last month’s billing. That a pregnant woman may as well quit. How I shouldn’t care about it but I did. I didn’t want to go there with her, not now at least. So I lied. “I hear you, mom.”
She laughed, “you’re lying. I know you’re lying. I really hope you’re better than this in court.” I could tell that she had had enough.
I blew a raspberry at her. “Well, anyway, sorry I cut the day short.”
“It’s OK,” I could hear the lie in her voice. But, unlike her, I let it go, being the bigger woman. Literally and figuratively. “It takes two to tango. I didn’t mean to start on Evelyn.”
“It’s fine,” I said, letting it end there, for both our sakes. “So your calves hurt?”
“It was awful. It felt like I was running a marathon every time I walked more than from the front door to the bedroom.”
“I know,” I said. “It’s killing me. Jeanine, Mike’s secretary, told me to drink lots of water. It helps.”
She laughed, “Of course, then you have to pee.”
I was smiling. “Yeah, well, I’m doing that all the time anyway. I’m going to get a computer in there soon. Between that and the constipation…”
“Thank god, I didn’t have that. Well, not as bad as Helene, at least. I thought she was going to explode with Jordan.”
“Oh, yuck, ma. Now, when I look at him, I’m going to see poop.”
“Well, too bad. If you don’t like poop, wait a few months.”
“You know, you read all these books and they tell you what a wonder pregnancy is,” I laughed.
She said, “It is. I wonder where my body went. I wonder how much I can actually pee. I wonder who thought this was a good idea. But, in the end, it’s all worth it.” I started to tear up. “You’ll get through it. Everyone does.”
“That’s what they tell me,” I said.
“That’s what I’m telling you,” she said. “You know what? For someone so bright, you’re not very smart.”
“Excuse me?”
“Since you were a baby, it’s always been ‘don’t worry about me. I can do it myself.’ Well, this is the time for everyone to worry about you, to do for you.” she laughed. “Use it to your advantage.”
“Yeah yeah. Can I get a do-over on today? I need stuff for Spain.”
She laughed, “we’ll see. Next Saturday?”
I took a deep breath. “OK. I love you mom.”
She sighed. “I love you too, Jessica. Don’t ever think I don’t. One thing, save the food jokes for your father and tell him the same. Please.”
----------
December 9. I was twenty four weeks pregnant. The baby was now, according to my app, a cantaloupe and I was visibly pregnant. I looked like I had a basketball under my shirt and my breasts were two cups sizes larger.
That morning, at about 10 AM, Danny and I were sitting on the couch, reading and watching ‘Sports Center’ with the sound off. My phone rang. “Get that please,” I said. It was on the other side of the coffee table charging and reaching across, with my ever growing bump, was getting harder. Besides, I decided that I was pregnant, Danny wasn’t and that he could therefore do things for me. To his credit, he did most of it with a smile. The only charge was that he would kiss my belly every time and say, “say ‘daddy,” to see if he could get the baby to kick.
He kissed my belly and smiled. “Thumper kicked. Thanks, Thump” We didn’t know what we were having so, given its tendency to kick at inopportune moments (sleeping, meetings, etc), it became ‘Thumper.’ Plus, that was gender neutral. I didn’t want to know. Sammie told me, ‘you’re being ridiculous. You live in an apartment. You have to get it ready,’ but I didn’t want to know. Maybe I was silly, but I liked the idea of a surprise. Besides, between Michelle, Sammie and Laura, I’d have enough clothes, no matter what. I went back and forth on whether it was a boy or a girl. My mother said that the way I was carrying, all in front, meant ‘boy.’ Evelyn said, ‘I had a dream it was a girl.’ Yoram said, ‘maybe we shouldn’t put labels on it.’
He looked at the phone, “Carrie?”
I said, “Jill’s friend, Emily’s mom?” He rolled his eyes and handed me the phone “Oh hey, Car. Oh please, you don’t have to thank me. SHE,” and Carrie laughed, knowing what the meant, “is welcome any time. I’m glad she had a good time at the Guggenheim, that age you never know.” Danny went into the bedroom. “Oh, that is so nice of you.” He came out, dressed for a run. “Danny, Carrie invited us to their holiday party on the 23rd.” He gave me a look like ‘huh’ then shrugged and said, ‘OK.’ “I can’t wait. Now, I just need a festive enough mumu.” I laughed, “thanks. I don’t feel beautiful. I feel like a parade float. I couldn’t even go to the Westside around Thanksgiving. Next thing, Al Roker would be doing commentary on me. Well, I can’t wait for the party. Just let me know what to bring. Yes, Jill and I would bring something to our own hanging. Love you,” and I hung up. Danny stared at me. “What?”
“What nothing. So, Chappaqua on the 23rd. I’m going for a run,” he said, abruptly.
“Sure,” I said. I hated that he could go for a run and I couldn’t but I was proud of him. I may have gained 20 pounds but he was vigilant about keeping fit. He joked ‘no baby weight for me. I won’t lose it in three months.’ “Remember, we have Michelle and Amanda at 1.” The Wednesday after my mother and I had gone shopping, she had the baby, a boy. I won the pool.
“I know,” he said, shoving his keys in his pocket. “I will be back in plenty of time,” he said, in what sounded like a growl.
I got up and gave him a kiss. “Are you OK?”
“Fine. I just want to get a run in. OK?”
“Sure. Have a good time. Wish I could join you,” I said, as the door closed.
He came back from his run around 12:15. “Hey honey,” he said, giving me a kiss. “I needed that.”
“I’m glad” I said. “Now you need a shower. Go. Come on. I want to get to Michelle and Amanda.”
“Please,” he said, teasing me by waving his armpit in my face like a child. “You want to see the baby.”
“Whatever. Go shower.”
We went over to Amanda and Michelle’s around 1 o’clock. Michelle met us at the door, holding the baby. Sebastian Andrew Richards-Maniscalco. 7 pounds, 3 ounces. 19 ½ inches long, 17 ½ of which was that name. Michelle had gained about thirty pounds during her pregnancy and lost about 15 after she gave birth. Like Sammie after Charlotte, she looked tired. Her hair was pulled back and she was wearing a maternity shirt and leggings. “Sorry,” she said, “I just don’t have it in me to dress up.”
Danny gave her a kiss, “Oh please, Michelle. You look beautiful.”
She smiled, “You’re a shitty liar, but thanks all the same,” she said, handing me the baby. “Here you go, Jess. I know that’s who you came to see anyway.”
I ignored her, taking him in my arms. “Sebastian,” I sang. “Who’s the baby with the longest name? Who’s the baby who’s going to need extra time for the SAT just to bubble it in? You are. You are.”
Amanda walked in and said, “You are such a freak, Jessie.” and gave me a kiss. “How are you doing?” She, Michelle and I talked for a little while about leg pain and constipation, while Dan sat on the couch, checking his phone.
“I’m not the one who gave him the name that uses a whole rack of Scrabble tiles,” I said, kissing her on the cheek. “How are you guys doing?” I knew the answer. They were tired. I asked in the same way you say, ‘how are you?’ Conversational filler and social nicety. “Do you want us to take Sebastian for a walk? You can rest.”
Michelle gave me a look that said, hopefully, ‘you would do that?’ while Amanda said, “Thanks, but I think we could both use adult conversation.” I could see a fight brewing behind Michelle’s eyes.
I sat down on the couch, with its burping towels and stuffed developmental toys covering it. I rested Sebastian on the bump and just stared at him. “Hey, Sebastian. Say hi to baby. I bet you two are going to be best friends,” and I looked up at Michelle, who smiled then yawned. “Like me and mommy.” He yawned and then moved his little hands. I was entranced.
He started to fuss and Michelle said, “do you want to feed him?”
She was breastfeeding and I said, “um, mine aren’t working just yet and are yours detachable?”
Amanda laughed, “Mona and Carl are coming in tonight to sit, so Michelle expressed.” Then, she said, “hey, Dan, why don’t you give it a shot?”
Danny looked up. “Sorry, what?”
I handed the baby to him and said, to Michelle and Amanda as much as him, “weren’t you listening? Amanda asked if you wanted to feed the baby.”
He looked surprised and then smiled, “don’t you want to do that?”
I smiled and said, “I’m going to have plenty of chances soon enough.” I thought I saw a flicker of annoyance cross his face and then he said, with a smile, “sure. Hand him over.” He looked at Sebastian and said, “hey, buddy. Let’s have some guy time. You and me.” He looked at Michelle and said, “got any pizza?” She rolled her eyes. “Beer?”
I watched Danny feed him. He did all the right things. He smiled. He talked to him - remember ‘Go Dolphins. Boo Jets’ - and he even burped him. But, he kept looking at us and saying, ‘I’m not an idiot. I did this with my niece.’ And he kept giving me strange looks.
----------
That night, we were on the west side, at the big theater on 68th. We were going to see the new Paul Thomas Anderson movie that everyone was talking about. It starred Daniel Day-Lewis which meant everyone already had the Oscar trophy engraved for him. We had invited Amanda and Michelle but they both said that, ‘we’re getting a night off. We want to talk to each other, not sit in a theater for three hours.’ Michelle told me later that they spent most of dinner yawning and talking about the baby.
We came out of the movie and Danny laughed, “I can’t believe that I let you drag me to this.” He never liked Paul Thomas Anderson movies. He said, ‘they’re boring. Like they’re visually interesting but they are soooo long.’ “How did I let you do this to me?”
I patted my belly, “How did I let YOU do THIS to me?” I laughed. We were walking out of the movie. “It wasn’t that bad,” I said, “come on. The cinematography was fantastic and he has to win the Oscar.”
He smiled and said, “yeah yeah yeah. Right, Thump?” he said to my belly, when I heard, “Jess?”
I looked up and it was Lori and Steven. I hadn’t seen her since that day at the diner. I hadn’t spoken to her since she canceled plans on me. She had lost about 40 pounds and looked much better. Still far from beautiful but better. “Lor?” We each looked the other up and down. “Ohmigod, how are you?” I said, faking it and giving her a peck on the cheek.
She smiled, air kissing me and giving me the same fake smile. “Fine. How are you doing? How far along are you?”
“Five months,” I said. “Fine. Tired. Getting big. I think I gained all the weight you lost. You look amazing.”
She looked at me for a second and said, “Thanks. Mazel Tov.” I noticed that she didn’t reciprocate and I looked at Danny, who betrayed no emotion whatsoever.
“Mazel Tov,” Steven said. We stood there for a second and I could see in his eyes that there was something going unsaid. For whatever reason, my instinct kicked in and I looked down at her left hand, on which there was a diamond. I picked up her hand. “Mazel tov to you guys! When is the big day?”
She smiled, although smirked might be a more apt description. “End of the month. December 30.”
Danny gave me a look and then said, “that’s terrific! Where?” He gave her a hug and she tensed up. I wondered if she remembered all that she used to say about me.
“Abigail Kirsch in Westchester,” she said, never taking her eyes off me.
“That’s really great, Lor. I’m really happy for you.” And I was. I feared for Steven, but was happy for her. This was what she wanted. “That’s a beautiful ring,” I said. “Good job, Steven,” giving him a fist bump.
He hunched up his shoulders, which he always did when things got tense which, with Lori, was often. I could see that he caught the look Lori gave him and he made a noticeable effort to relax. “Thanks.” I could see him thinking about what happened when he asked why we weren’t invited.
Danny said, “do you guys want to get coffee?”
Steven said, “OK,” and Lori cut him off with a look. “I would love to,” she said, in the same insincere tone Jess said Lori’s mother would use when Jess got dressed up, “but I have to be up early tomorrow. I have things to do for the wedding. Check with the florists, shop for bridesmaid’s gifts, you remember, Jess…”
Bitch. “I totally get it, Lori. I have to shop for our trip to Spain, it’s our babymoon. Then, when we get back, it’ll be getting ready for Thumper here,” I said, patting my belly and hating myself for the totally catty bitch I was being. “But we should definitely get together. Call me when you get back.”
She smiled, “I will.” She wouldn’t and neither would I. I imagined that, other than chance meetings, this was it.
“Tell your parents Mazel Tov for us,” I said, sweetly.
“Yours too.”
We walked away. I went to take Danny’s hand and he pulled it away. “Hello?”
“What?” he snapped.
“You pulled your hand away!” He reached over and grabbed my hand angrily. I pulled mine away. “Don’t do me any favors. What’s wrong with you?”
“What’s wrong with me? Seriously?”
“Yeah. What’s wrong?”
“My oldest friend is getting married.”
“Lori? Your oldest friend? Really? When was the last time you spoke to her?”
“That’s not the point,” he grumbled.
“Yeah, it is. She’s such a good friend and you haven’t spoken to her in two years at least.”
“That’s your fault!”
I stopped on the street. “Excuse me?” I bounced on the balls of my feet to keep my legs from tightening up.
“You heard me. It’s your fault. You drove her away!”
“I drove her away? Do tell. How did I drive her away? She’s the one who drove me away.”
“You wanted her to,” he said, getting angrier.
“No, I didn’t.”
“She’s a Debbie Downer,” he said, in a mocking tone. “She canceled on me. I’m not calling her. You could have called her.”
“Are you fucking serious?” I said. Out of the corner, I could see couples looking at us, the women staring daggers at Danny while the men all but said, ‘better you than me’ and practicing their ‘I know, what a prick’ speeches for later. “She cancels on me. She gives me shit about losing weight and my clothes, she doesn’t call, but I drove her away.”
“You made her feel bad. And now we’re not going to the wedding.”
“She calls,” and I had to pause and think pronouns, “me an emasculating bitch and you passive-aggressive and I made her feel bad? She gives me shit about what I eat and I made feel her bad? I feel pretty fucking bad right now and it’s your fault, you asshole! And all you care about is a fucking wedding? Fuck you. I’m going home,” and I hailed a cab. One pulled up and I went to get in. He started to follow me in. “Fuck you. Walk home,” I said, slamming the door. The cab pulled away and I cried. I hated that he and I had fought at all, but over Lori? She had wanted to drive us apart and she did, at least for tonight.
I came home and sat on the couch, a pillow pulled up against my stomach, and I cried. Forty-five minutes after I came home, I heard the key turning in the lock. “Hey,” Danny said, coming in. His eyes were red.
“Were you crying?” I said.
“Yes. Does that make you feel better?”
“No,” I said. “What’s wrong?”
“I’m sorry that I was an asshole to you,” he said, sitting down next to me and putting his hand on mine.
“What happened? We were having a good night and we saw Lori and you lost it. What happened, Danny?”
“That’s it. We saw Lori.”
“I don’t understand,” I said. “We haven’t seen her in over a year.”
“Uh huh,” he said, tears forming in his eyes.
“Uh huh, what Danny?” I said, hugging him. “I don’t understand.”
“You have Sammie and Michelle and Robin. You have my sister’s friends. You have my SISTER. Everyone loves Jessa. You have everything and,” and he cried.
“And what, honey? Please don’t cry.” My heart dropped. I felt awful.
“And when I saw Lori I realized it. I have nothing. She and I were best friends since we were nine years old.” I wanted to say you were co-dependent frenemies that brought out the worst in each other. “She was my bridesmaid,” which sounded absurd coming from him, after all these months, “and I always figured, if she ever got married, that I’d be hers, maybe even her maid of honor, but now she’s getting married and I won’t even be a guest. I know that sounds ridiculous to you.”
I thought about it. “It doesn’t, Danny. I didn’t mean to drive her away.”
“I know you didn’t,” he said. “I’m sorry I said that…”
“You’re not just saying that because I’m pregnant?”
He laughed, “No. I mean you left and every woman just glared at me. I thought they were going to beat me up. You have everything. You have your old friends. You have your new friends….”
“You have lots of friends too. Mark, Larry, everyone.”
He said, “It’s not the same.” It wasn’t. I remembered back then. You were close but you didn’t talk. I also remembered every time someone’s wife or girlfriend was pregnant. All anyone said was a variation of ‘good luck, you’ll need it.’
I looked at him, “Are you jealous?”
He blushed and looked away, “No….”
“It’s totally normal, you know. All the websites say that.”
He took a deep breath, “Do they cover when your husband used to be you?”
“Wow,” I said, in shock, “I guess I never...I just thought...I thought you were happy about this.” I felt nauseous. “I mean, it’s not like we can do anything about it…” He went to touch my arm and I reflexively pulled it away.
“No no no,” he said. “I am just fucking up left and right tonight. I don’t mean that. Not at all. I don’t want to be pregnant. You are so much better at it than I could ever be, would have ever been, it’s not funny, it’s just…”
I thought for a second. In his eyes, I saw the old Jess. The one who felt like an afterthought. Jill’s younger sister. The judge and the doctor’s other child. Dan’s wife. She was never that to me but you can’t make someone see what they don’t want to see, no matter how much you do. I took his hand. “I get it.”
“I feel like an idiot,” he mumbled. “Do you ever think about it?”
I looked at him. “Sometimes. Not often. I’m just trying to get through the day without having an accident. I have nightmares about it every so often.” I had a dream about Spain. We were at the airport and the customs agent checked my passport and said, ‘you are not Jessica Silverman, sir,’ and then he took me to a room where everyone pointed at me and laughed. I took Dan’s hand. “I’m sorry if you feel like I’m taking all the attention.”
“Stop,” he said. “You’re supposed to. You’re pregnant. You’re mommy. Me? I did one thing.”
I smiled, “And you did it very well,” I said, in a deliberately patronizing tone.
“Haha. I feel even stupider. I know you didn’t drive her away. I’m sorry.”
“Don’t. You’re entitled to your feelings. Can I tell you? It hurt when she told us it was the end of the month. It really did. Even when you know something’s over, it’s weird when it actually is, y’know?”
“Yeah. Please don’t be mad at me.”
I smiled, “Well, how do you suppose you’re going to make it up to me?”
He took my right leg in his hands and began rubbing it. “I saw you bouncing up and down. Calves bothering you?”
“Yes,” I said, “that feels so much better. Thank you.”
“I am really sorry.” Then he smiled, “That went really well. We wouldn’t come to your stupid wedding anyway because we will be in Spain, because I AM HAVING A BABY, BITCH and then, once we get back, we have to shop for THE BABY I AM HAVING BITCH WHICH YOU ARE NOT.”
I waved my left hand in his face. “Poor Steven, poor poor Steven,” I said, laughing.
“I know. Poor guy. He looks miserable. And it’s only going to get worse. I can’t even imagine how Bridezilla she is. Please tell me I wasn’t that bad.”
I laughed. “No.” Then I laughed some more.
“What?” He said.
“I’m trying to picture you in a wedding dress...yecch.”
“I love you, Jessa.” He leaned down and kissed my belly. “You too, Thumper. Ow!”
“What?”
“He kicked me in the face.”
I put my hand on my belly, “Good Thumper…Are you really OK? Do you want me to call her to get together? I will...” I didn’t want to, but would for him.
He sighed, “No. You were right about her. I guess it just hit home. God, I’m a mess.”
“No more than me,” I said. “Give the pregnant woman a kiss.” And he did.
The saga of Jessa and Danny continues. Jessa gets a preview of what it means to be a mommy and Jessa and Danny head to Spain for their babymoon.
Thanks as always, Lizzy Bennet. Especially for making sure the trip to Spain didn't read like Lonely Planet.
--------------------------------
December 16 - 25 weeks pregnant. Thumper was as big as cauliflower.
I was meeting Laura to go shopping for Carrie’s Christmas party. I didn’t really want to go shopping or to deal with anyone. I had had a horrible week at work, which was capped by something that happened yesterday.
Every year, Danny’s company had a Christmas open house, also known as the “kiss the ring” ceremony. Basically, everyone brought their kids in and they had candy and cookies and someone dressed as Santa. The center of it all was when the C-level executives all stood in something resembling a receiving line and met the headquarters employees; hence, ‘kissing the ring.’ I had gone once, when we started dating. When I had bitched to my boss Mike then, he laughed and said, ‘enjoy it. She wants to show you off. Soon, she won’t want to see your ugly face.’ Danny wasn’t in the receiving line - not yet at least, I believed. But, because of his new position, I had to be there, to be on board and all that.
Yesterday, when I was leaving, I said to Mike, ‘Sorry. This is political. I won’t be long and I’ll stay late.’ He just looked me up and down, staring at my stomach (I felt). He smiled and said, ‘take your time.’ I felt vulnerable.
The open house itself was fine. Everyone came over to ask how I was doing. Melissa had brought Ben and Layla. I hadn’t seen her for a few months. We had had plans to go out and Layla got an ear infection. The next time, Ben had, according to Melissa, ‘learned to share at day care. He was so nice and gave us all a cold!’ Then she added, ‘welcome to the rest of your life.’ “Hey, Ben. Hey, Layla,” I said, leaning down to give them a kiss, which brought up my reflux. I gagged a little and Melissa said, ‘heartburn?’ When I nodded, she ruffled Ben’s hair and smiled. “How’s everything?” she said.
“Busy. Ridiculously busy.”
“I hear you. You look beautiful.” I was wearing a blue dress and 2” heels. My ankles hurt like hell. I should have worn flats, but I wanted to look good for Danny.
“I look like I swallowed a basketball,” I said.
“Oh, stop. You look gorgeous. Right, Dan?” Danny smiled, put his arm around me and gave me a kiss. I should have felt better, but I didn’t. ‘Take your time’ was ringing in my ears.
Melissa left to take Ben and Layla to see Santa. Danny said, “Is everything OK?”
“Fine,” I said. “Work. Just work.”
“Everything OK?”
“The Namowitz motion,” I lied. “The one I was telling you about the other day?” I knew that would work. He didn’t understand what I did, anymore than I understood what they did here, other than create and sell drugs. By the way, there was no Namowitz motion. For an added fillip of reality, I said, “you don’t listen, do you?”
He smiled and said, “I try.” He did. More than I did then and more than I did now. He said, “Bruce said to bring you down before the whole thing.” As a result of his promotion, Bruce now was in the line, albeit at the beginning of it. Old Kremlinologists didn’t spend as much time studying placement as Stone people did with ‘kiss the ring.’ We went down the hall to Bruce’s office and knocked on the door.
“Mind if we come in?” Danny said.
He saw me, got a huge grin and came around the desk. He looked me up and down, but in a manner that felt completely different from Mike. He leaned down and gave a me a hug and kiss. “I heard an ugly rumor about you…”
I smiled, “it’s true. I’m a Yankee fan.”
He laughed. “How are you doing? How are you feeling?”
I smiled, “ask Ellen how I’m feeling.” Then I added, “I’m doing fine.” No man really cared how I was feeling; I didn’t used to, not really. What was I going to say? I have heartburn? I’m constipated? Oh, and my ass is bleeding from hemorrhoids? So, I went with ‘fine, thanks.’
“You look beautiful, if that’s OK to say.”
I said, “it’s more than OK.” It was bullshit, but I needed to hear it. Danny put his arm around my waist and smiled. “Thank you, Bruce.”
“Ellen said to tell you that she loved the article.” Since Florida, Jillian had kept to her word. She had gotten me jobs, non-paying but jobs nonetheless, writing articles for various on-line papers including the latest in Huffington Post on voter suppression in Ohio. “I read it, too. It was great.”
Danny said I blushed when I said, “Thank you. It wasn’t too dry?”
He laughed, “No, it was just dry enough. Besides, who wants a wet article?” I rolled my eyes and he said, “ba-dum dum. Seriously, it was terrific.” He looked at the clock on his desk. “Ah shit, I have to get downstairs. Let me practice my smile on you two.” He pasted on a game show host smile. “Too fake?”
“Just fake enough,” I said, with a smile.
He gave me another kiss and turned to Dan, “you’re lucky I like her.” Then he turned to me, “call Ellen and make plans for dinner.” I was responsible for dinner plans now. And birthday presents. And ordering groceries. “I’ll see you downstairs. Take care of Bruce in there.” I looked at him and stuck out my tongue. “Hey, Bruce is a great name. Bruce Lee. Bruce Springsteen. Jack Bruce.” Danny looked confused, so Bruce said, “the bassist from Cream. God, I’m old.” And he left us, singing, ‘Sunshine of Your Love,’ as he walked away.
The rest of the open house went well. We went downstairs and ‘kissed the ring.’ Everyone told me what a great job Danny was doing, which made me feel proud. I had really learned to feel proud without qualification. He was respected at work. He worked hard and they respected him, which is what he wanted. What I wanted. I couldn’t help but notice how, whenever we talked to someone, he let go of my hand and put his hand around my waist. He also answered questions that were directed to me, stopping only if I smiled sweetly and said, ‘Danny…’
I went back to the office after an hour and a half and went into Mike’s office. “Sorry about that.”
He smiled, “Relax, Jessica. It’s fine. We survived in your absence,” which stung a little. Between that and the garbage cases I had been assigned lately, I began to wonder if that was the plan. I smiled weakly and said, ‘thanks.’ Then, I worked until 8:30, making sure not to leave until everyone else did. I wasn’t going down without a fight.
-----------
Laura and I were meeting on the Upper East Side, near her place. I needed a dress and, given the UES’ reputation as the suburbs in the city, there were a lot of maternity stores. I had asked her to meet me at Barnes & Noble Bookstore on 86th and Lex, so I could buy a couple of books for the trip.
Before I left, Danny said, “not too many, please. And no hardcovers.”
“Why?” I said, giving him a kiss on the nose.
I knew the answer. “Because I’m going to be carrying them.”
“You don’t have to,” I said, as flirtatiously as I could. I didn’t feel flirtatious. I felt bloated and edgy and concerned about my future.
“Please,” he scoffed. “Paperbacks, please.”
I was standing in Barnes and Noble looking at books, when a guy, in his early 30s came over. He had dark curly hair and green eyes. He was wearing a Michigan hoodie and jeans, the requisite uniform of the Upper East Side. He was cute, not gorgeous but cute. “Hero of the Boer War. The Orphan Master’s Son. Knockemstiff. Interesting choices…”
I smiled and raised an eyebrow. “Interesting? How so?” I brushed my hair off my face.
He smiled. “Maybe that was the wrong word. Unusual. I mean, most women…”
I held up, ‘Hero of the Boer War,’ a biography of young Churchill in the Boer War. I pointed to the author’s name - Candice Millard. “Candice,” I said. “I’m pretty sure that that’s a woman’s name. Not all of us read books with high heels on the cover.” I had tried. I thought that maybe I’d like them now. I didn’t. Crap is still crap.
He smiled. He had a terrific smile that made his eyes light up. ‘OK, Jess,’ I thought. ‘You are very pregnant. And very married.’ “You win,” he said. “Knockemstiff is excellent by the way. Have you read...”
“Devil All the Time? The Heavenly Table? I loved them both….”
“I stand corrected. Surprised, pleasantly surprised but corrected,” he said, smiling that smile again. He picked up the last book in my pile. “‘The End of Men?’ Uh oh..”
I looked down at my feet and then at him. “It’s not like that, at all…”
He laughed. “I’m just teasing. I’m Mark,” he said, offering his hand.
“Jessica,” I said. “Nice to meet you.” Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Laura standing about fifteen feet away. She had a huge smile on her face and was rubbing one finger on the other, in the universal, ‘tsk tsk’ gesture. “I apologize but I see my sister over there.”
“Well, don’t let me keep you,” he said. “Very nice to meet you.”
I smiled and said, “Nice to meet you too,” and I brushed my hair out of my face. It felt like it kept falling in my face.
As he walked away, he handed me a book. “You should read this,” he said. “It’s terrific. Exciting but smart.” I looked at the cover. ‘Danelaw.’ The blurbs read, ‘A taut psychological thriller,’ and ‘this year’s, ‘The Girl on the Train.’ ‘Eh,’ I thought. ‘Well, if I don’t like it, maybe Danny will.’ I walked over to Laura, who had a huge grin. “What?”
“Jess likes a boy,” she sang. “Jess likes a boy…”
“Yes, Jess likes a boy. Her husband.”
“Oh, please. You were totally flirting with that guy.”
“No, I wasn’t.” She started pushing her hair behind her ear. She smiled and then looked down then up. Oh god, I had been flirting. “Oh god…”
Then she took ‘Danelaw,’ off my pile. “Is this the book he picked?” I felt mortified and nodded. “Ohmigod, is he going to make you a CD too?”
“Stop it. Anyway, hello?” I said, pointing at my stomach. “He clearly wasn’t interested in me. Not like that anyway.”
“I don’t know. From where I stood….you look really good, by the way.”
“Yeah, well, anyway, I’m married, remember?”
“I know. But I bet it felt really good.” It did. I was embarrassed to say it, but it made feel better about myself. If nothing else, I was apparently attractive. “So, anyway, what’s going on with Tuck and Sam this week?” Sam was a boy in Tucker’s pre-school. Apparently, they had a fight and Tuck pushed Sam down, which necessitated all the parents coming in to discuss ‘how to handle things better in the future.’
“Eh, it’s fine. We had this whole meeting to find out that….they’re three year olds.” A woman with a little girl waved at us and came over. She was about 35, with brown hair, muddy brown eyes and the sort of toned body that came from way too many hours in the gym. I used to have that body. She was wearing a ‘Soul Cycle’ shirt, Alo yoga pants and the same pair of Adidas Superstar sneakers that every other woman on the UES had. The kind she’d throw away, still pristine, in two weeks when they stopped being hip.
“Tina,” Laura said, giving her a kiss. “Hi, Penelope.” Penelope smiled and hid behind her mother. “Penelope and Tucker go to preschool together. Tina, this is my little sister Jessica. Jessica, Tina Blackwood.”
“Hi,” I said, sticking out my hand. “Jessica Silverman.” She looked me up and down while she shook my hand. I was glad that I dressed up a little. I had worn jeans, a blue sweater and booties. I had debated wearing a skirt, but after yesterday, it felt too open. I bent down, “Hi Penelope. I’m Tucker’s aunt.” She kept hiding. Whatever, I thought. I can’t stay down here too long anyway.
“So how far along are you?” When you’re pregnant, this is the standard greeting, especially from other mothers. No ‘hello,’ just straight to the point.
“Twenty-five weeks,” I said. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Laura keep a fake smile on her face. If you didn’t know her, it looked real. I knew it wasn’t. The left side of her mouth was slightly lower. It was her tell.
“You look terrific,” she said, by rote. “How are you feeling?” I gave her the quick once-over. She didn’t care and would probably tell all the other mothers whatever I said, so I went with, ‘Fine. The usual.’
“That’s great,” she said. “Is everything OK with Tucker? I heard what happened.”
Penelope piped in, “Tucker hit Sammy!” She smiled and said, ‘shhh, honey.”
“It’s fine,” Laura said. “Boys…”
Tina gave her a tight smile. “Hm. Well, we have to get Penelope’s art class. Very nice to meet you, Jessica. See you at school, Laura.”
As she left, Laura said, “Bitch. She’s probably already texting her crew to tell them how I looked like shit.” She was wearing jeans and a sweatshirt. I didn’t see what the big deal was, it was the weekend and we were just going shopping. But I knew enough to know that a woman who bought her yoga pants at Bergdorf Goodman and not Lululemon or the Gap would say something.
‘Whatever. Her husband’s probably cheating on her now,” I said, in some sort of effort to make Laura feel better.
It didn’t really work. “Seriously, whatever. I don’t want to deal with her today. Let’s go find you a dress. So, who is this again?”
“Jill’s friend Carrie.”
She smiled a strange smile. “And she invited you why exactly?” I looked back at her. “I mean, it’s cool. I just can’t picture you going to Rachel’s party.”
I was annoyed. “This isn’t a mom and Evelyn thing, is it?” I couldn’t deal with that on top of everything else.
“No no no. Sorry. I just wanted to know.” And I explained how Emily sometimes came in with Sarah and how I think she felt like ‘she owed me one.’ All she said was, “Oh, OK.” I let it go because I had to.
“How was the reunion?” Laura and Jeremy had just gone to her 20th high school reunion.
“It was good. Weird to see everyone, y’know. Jamie DiGuardia got really fat.” Jamie was one of those half-skanky girls who was gorgeous - dark hair, dark eyes, great body - in a scary way. If the wrong guy, which is to say any of the jocks or dorks, looked at her, she’d growl, “what?” in a way that drove you away. She and Laura had been friends in junior high until Jamie suddenly developed at which point she abandoned her. Laura was crushed, from what I could recall, but my parents were not disappointed, to say the least.
I laughed, “I could see that. She always struck me as the kind of girl who got by on metabolism.” Jesus, I was a bitch.
Laura looked at me and said, “meow?”
“Sorry, that came out the wrong way. I meant,” and she smirked, “forget it. Who else did you see?”
“Caryn Zweig.” Caryn was the bane of Laura’s existence. She had picked on her from first through twelfth grade. I remembered how, in eighth grade, Laura went to make plans with her friends to go to the mall and they all came up with an excuse. My mom took us to the mall and we saw Caryn standing there with all of Laura’s friends. Before Laura could cry, my mom said, ‘we’re going to Garden State,’ another, bigger and better mall. Laura cried the whole way there. I was just happy we were getting to go there; cut me some slack, I was in fourth grade.
“How was that?” I braced for the worst.
She smiled. “Really really weird. She was all friendly, like ‘oh, you work in midtown. So do I. We should totally get lunch. You look great.’ It took me like ten minutes to accept that she wasn’t going to run back and make fun of me.”
I almost asked what she looked like now, but realized that that would make me sound even cattier. However on edge I was, I didn’t want to go over it. “That’s great. I mean, it has been twenty years but still that’s great.”
We walked up to Madison, talking. Even all these years later, there were times it still felt strange to be walking with Laura, talking and window shopping.
We walked past a boutique on Madison and in the window was a blue dress that fell mid-thigh. It had lace sleeves. I was imagining myself in it and wondering if I’d ever be able to wear it again. “God, I love that dress,” I said.
Laura looked at it. “That is pretty. Want to see if they have it in your size?”
“Please. Size whale?”
“Jess,” she said, taking my hand. “What’s wrong? When did you get so down on yourself? That’s my job.”
“Being down on yourself, or on me?” I smiled.
“Serious. What’s wrong?”
“Nothing. Work.”
“Mom says you’ve been working too hard.”
“I don’t like you two talking about me,” I said. She thought I was kidding. I wasn’t. “Besides, it’s not that. It’s like I feel like they’re trying to push me out. They’re giving me the shit cases and, when I was going to Danny’s thing yesterday, I told Mike that it wouldn’t take long and he said, ‘take your time.’”
She smiled. “Maybe he just meant don’t stress yourself?”
“Law firms don’t work that way.”
She said, “Oh, I forgot. Law firms are like this whole other planet, us mere non-lawyers don’t understand. Up is down. Black is white. Take your time means you’re fired. Laws don’t apply there. For every action, there is not an equal and opposite reaction. Not in law firm world.”
In spite of myself, I laughed. “Shut up. I’m just scared. Feel better? I’ve worked really hard and I’m scared, OK?” I started to cry. Not tear up. Cry. “I’m really scared. I’m feeling like, I can’t explain it,” and I just bawled. People were staring at me.
Laura hugged me, tight. “Shhh, Jessica. It’s going to be OK. You’re going to be OK. You can be scared. It’s OK.”
I sniffled into her shoulder. “Are people staring?”
“Who fucking cares? You poor thing. I had no idea,” and she steered me to a bench in front of a store. I stared at the ground and she put her hand under my chin and pushed up. “What’s wrong, Jess?”
“Mom does that…the thing with her hand under my chin.”
She smiled, “If you want me to help, don’t tell me I’m like mom.”
I smiled, “Sorry. Sorry to get snot on your sweatshirt.”
“Stop it, Jessie. Tell me what’s wrong, for real.”
“It’s going to sound weird.”
“So? You’re my little sister. You used to think the people lived in the TV. Little midget people.”
“Shut up. No, I didn’t. And if I did, I was like four.”
“Yeah, well, what’s weird?”
“I feel like my whole world is upside down. Like I spent the first thirty-three years of my life doing one thing and now it’s like totally something else and I won’t be able to deal with it.” She was looking at me now. “OK, see, it’s weird. You’re totally looking at me like I’m a freak. I’m sorry that I said anything. Forget about it.”
“No. I wasn’t looking at you. I mean keep explaining. It’s not weird. I just want to understand.”
I tried to figure out how to articulate so that I didn’t end up in a room wearing shoes without laces and a bathrobe without a belt. “OK, it feels like I’m not who I was. That before I was,” and here I stumbled to find the right words, “one person. I mean I was the same person but different. I mean, I was married to Dan,” or Jess, as the case may be, “and he was married to me and we did our jobs, but it was different. I wasn’t this other thing. People didn’t see me as a woman…”
She laughed, “Uh, I hate to break this to you…”
“That’s not what I mean. I mean, it’s like no one sees me anymore. They see my body, my belly, that’s it. It’s like I went from being the subject of my sentence to the object.”
She smiled, “Subject and object? Will this be on the test?” I thought of Ms. Brunello, my fourth grade teacher, making us diagram sentences.
“I’m serious,” and I went from starting to cry to agitated. “It’s like before I was a person. I worked. I ran. I did things...and now it’s just….”
“I’m pregnant. I’m having a baby. How is the baby? How do you feel?”
“I know. It sounds ridiculous.”
She gave a short grunting laugh. “Not really. I totally get it. When I was pregnant with Tucker, that was the topic of conversation. Even at work. Even my office.” Laura was in public relations. Her whole firm was women, other than the errant gay man.
“Yeah, well, I just feel like…”
“Everyone is putting you into a box?”
I let out a sigh of relief. “Yeah. That’s it. And I don’t want to be in the box.” She looked surprised. “I mean,” and I put my hand under my belly. “I do want to be in the box, but I don’t want to only be in the box,” and I started to cry again. “I’m afraid that I won’t be good at being in the box.” I had never said that out loud. I had been having nightmares lately. I had a nightmare that I had the baby and that it knew that I wasn’t always its mother. I mean I was, but it knew that I used to be Dan and Danny used to be me. And it spat out, ‘you’re not my mother. You’re a freak.’ I would wake up with a start and would try not to wake Danny. Instead, I would stare at the ceiling and silently cry for an hour, until I fell back asleep. “I can’t sleep because of it.”
I started bawling into Laura’s shoulder again. “Jess, ohmigod, how long has this been bothering you?”
I sobbed. “I don’t know. A few weeks. Month or so? I don’t know.”
“And you haven’t said anything? To anyone” I shook my head ‘no’, rubbing more snot onto her sweatshirt. I mumbled, ‘sorry.’ “Stop apologizing. You poor poor thing.” She meant it to be comforting, but it just made me feel more weak. “You have to stop beating yourself up. You are going to be great. You are going to the best mommy ever. Everyone knows that.”
“I’m scared. And I’m scared about my job. I’ve worked really hard.”
She looked me in the eye. “And they know that. And if they don’t know that, someone else will.”
“Don’t tell me I’ll be fine…”
“I’m not mom,” she said, with a half-humorous, half-annoyed tone. “But you will be. You will make partner. There or somewhere else. And you’ll be a great mom. I saw the pictures of you and Sebastian and Charlotte on Facebook. You’re going to be great, Jess. But, you have to stop beating yourself up, OK?” I nodded and wiped away my tears. “And the next time something’s bothering you, call me. Call Jill. Call someone. But, you can’t keep things in. It’s not good for you.” Then she paused. “Mom told me she told you about Uncle Richie.”
“You knew about him?”
“Sorta kinda. I mean, I knew he died and I knew it was lymphoma.” I was staring at her, so she said, “she told me about him when I was pregnant.”
I laughed. “What is that, her go to story for pregnant women? ‘Hey, I know you’re freaking out about everything….’”
She finished the sentence. “How about I tell you about your uncle? Your dead uncle. Who died when he was just your age?” We both laughed a lot, then she said, “but she never told me he was like you.”
“Yeah, well, how do you say that? ‘Oh, by the way, he reminds me of your sister.’”
“Yeah, well, guess what? She may be grandma, but I’m not going to be her. I’m not going to let you just tell me everything is OK when it isn’t. I’m serious. I don’t care about my sister the partner. I care about my little sister, my little sister.” I started to cry again and she held me. “Jesus,” she said.
I smiled, “Stupid hormones. Thanks.”
“That’s why I’m here.” She smiled, “Is daddy still doing the food thing?”
“It’s cute,” I said, laughing and grateful to be doing so.
“It’s nauseating,” she said. “I mean you think he’d at least make an effort not to show you’re his favorite….”
“That’s not true,” I said. “He loves us both the same.”
She laughed. “Yeah, you keep believing that. Are you OK now?”
“I’m as OK as I’m going to be.” I looked at the store window. “I really do love that dress.”
She laughed. “Who’d a thunk it? My little tomboy sister would like lace so much.”
I started to think about everything again and stopped. I was still me. I liked lace now, but I was still me. So, I just said, “people change. Think I’ll ever be able to wear that dress again?”
She rolled her eyes. “That’s better. There’s my neurotic little sister. Yes. I lost the weight. Sammie lost the weight. Michelle lost the weight. You’ll lose it. I’ll give you the jog stroller. You’ll take my nephew for a run.”
I looked at her. “What makes you so sure it’s a nephew?”
“You’re carrying all in front. From behind, I couldn’t tell you were pregnant. That’s how I was with Tuck, remember?” I didn’t remember. I remembered her being pregnant and yelling at Jeremy. Now I felt bad. She was paying attention to me and I didn’t really care when it was her.
So I lied. “So now you’re grandma Rosie?”
She shrugged, “Better than mom.”
We came to the first maternity store of three in a two block stretch.
The saleswoman came over, “Hi! How are you doing today? How far along are you?”
I smiled, figuring this was the one place where the question was sort of appropriate. “Fine. Five and a half months.”
“Well, congratulations!” I wondered if she spoke in exclamation points all the time. Like, ‘yes, honey, I would like Mexican tonight!!!’ or ‘where is the dry cleaning!!!’ “What brings you here today?”
I’m going out for a night of drinking and debauchery. “I need a dress for a holiday party.”
“How fancy?” I smiled, thinking how Danny wasn’t even thinking about how dressy it was. He’d wear a jacket, pants and a button down shirt. I didn’t miss that. I liked being pretty and feminine, especially now, when I mostly felt bloated and nervous. I just had to smile at the change in circumstances.
“I don’t know. I mean it’s a friend’s party, not a work thing. But, it is Saturday night and it is in Chappaqua, so I mean it’s probably going to be pretty nice. And her friends have money, not that I count it. So,” and I started to laugh.
“What’s so funny?” Laura said.
Well, your former little brother is now parsing what dress, what maternity dress, to wear to a party, that’s what. And he’s, I mean she’s, nervous and excited about it. “Nothing, just thinking of something. Pregnancy brain,” I said, with a smile. That placated her. “Dressy, not too dressy. Plus, I’m going to Spain next week, so if it can do double duty, that would be terrific.”
The clerk led us over to the rack. “What are you thinking?”
“I don’t know,” I said, looking at a mix of black and colored dresses. “You never can go wrong with black, it’s very slimming,” which got a laugh, “but I could use some color.”
The saleswoman smiled. “Well, let’s see. What size were you?” Maternity stores all measured you by what size you were before, which made sense but felt cruel. Like ‘you used to be a six. Used to be.’ I said, ‘six,’ and she looked on the rack and said, “what do you think of this?” She held up a pale mauve dress that came to a couple of inches above the knee. It had sheer shoulders with beading on them and short sleeves.
Laura said, “oooh, that’s really pretty, Jess. Try it on.”
I went into the dressing room and put it on. I looked at myself in the mirror. It was soft, it was feminine and it showed off my shoulders. One of the few saving graces of swimming for exercise was that my arms and shoulders were still toned. It had a peek-a-boo back. It tied at what used to be my waist and showed off Thumper.
I came out and said, ‘how do I look?”
Laura said, “oooh, you look so beautiful. I’m so jealous.”
I teased her. “You could have another one. Then you can borrow it.” She stuck out her tongue at me. “Let’s put this one aside,” I said. “Can I see that black one?” It was a black dress with long lace bell sleeves. I tried it on.
“You look like a pregnant Morticia.” She turned to the saleswoman, who looked horrified, and just said, “she’s my sister. Someone has to say it.” Then she stuck out her tongue and said, “that’ll teach you to say I should have another one. Barbara.”
I tried on a third dress. It was blue, knee length with lace sleeves. It didn’t have a tie which I liked. I was happy to be pregnant and was proud of my bump. I just didn’t know why I was supposed to draw attention to it. It wasn’t as dressy as the mauve. I turned to the saleswoman and Laura. “What do you think?”
“I like the mauve,” said Laura. “It looks gorgeous on you.”
“What if it’s too dressy?”
“I guess. I mean it’s not too dressy, but the other one…”
The saleswoman chimed in, “you could totally accessorize the other one and make it dressy.”
I started to think, ‘well, I have the Tiffany heart, which I love. But, it doesn’t really dress it up. Do pearls go with this?’ I started to laugh to myself. This was me now. I was going to text Jill, but decided to not live my life by committee. Or at least only by small committee. I went with the mauve.
Laura and I had lunch and just chatted. She told me more about the preschool moms. “I mean, I work for a living. Sorry, Jeremy’s not at Goldman Sachs like her husband…”
I decided to lighten the mood. “He’s having an affair right now...with the nanny.”
Laura laughed. “I’ve seen the nanny. She’s like 55, two hundred pounds and from Trinidad. Or maybe Barbados. Or one of those places.”
I smiled. “Exactly. Right now, while Tina and Penelope are at whatever class, he’s bending the nanny over the couch, pumping away…”
She started laughing and covering her mouth, so as not to make too much noise. “Ohmigod, Jess, you are disgusting. Now I won’t be able to look at the nanny….”
I kept going, “And then she’s going to come home. ‘Is that a CUM STAIN on the rug? How do you expect to get a CUM STAIN out of our Persian rug? I simply do not understand this. And then she turns to the nanny, ‘this is coming out of YOUR pay!’”
Laura was giggling so hard, tears were coming out. “You are so disgusting, Jess.” I just smiled.
I walked back with her to her place, holding the dress. “Thanks, Laura.”
“Promise me you’re going to call when something’s bothering you.”
“I will.”
“Promise. Say ‘I promise.’”
“I promise. Thanks.”
“Stop,” she said, hugging me. “I’m your older sister. That’s what I do.”
“I love you, Lolo.” She smiled. I hadn’t called her ‘Lolo’ since I was a baby and couldn’t pronounce ‘Laura.’
“I love you too, Teddie.”
----------------------------------
Friday December 22 - Thumper was as big as kale. I could work with kale. It was dirty, it was sour (thanks, heartburn) but, in the end, it was good for you.
The day had not started off well.
It was 45 degrees and raining, fat intermittent drops.
The train was crowded and we were all crammed in. There were no available seats. I looked down to see a man sitting with his legs spread, pushing the woman next to him against the arm at the end of the row. He just looked at me, like,‘’you chose to be pregnant.’ A woman sitting with her toddler in a stroller looked with tired eyes at me and said, ‘you want?’ I smiled and shook my head. She looked at the guy and mumbled, ‘cabron.’ Asshole.
To add insult to injury, I felt a hand grab my ass. This was not the first time this had happened. As Jessa, I had become inured to the ‘misplaced’ hand and the ‘mistaken’ grab on the train. I hated it and, more importantly, hated that there was little I could do but try and move away. I fantasized about kicking someone in the groin and screaming but knew that, on a train, I was trapped and couldn’t do anything. If we were at a station, I could knee someone and try and run but, with each passing day, that wasn’t an option. Today, however, was something different. I turned around, so that my belly was visible, looked down at it and then glared at him. The bastard just grinned at me and got off at the next stop.
Then, I got to work and walked past the coffee maker. In the past twenty-six weeks, my sense of smell had become acute. Which was great because, for the first three months, I was constantly nauseous. While the nausea had passed, the sense of smell remained and today I was greeted by the smell of coffee. Rich French Roast coffee - coffee I couldn’t have. I sighed and went to work.
It was 11:00 AM. I was in my office, working on a brief, when Mike knocked on the door. "Busy?”
Uh oh. "Kinda."
He ignored me and sat down. "Mind if I sit?" I looked at him and smiled as if to say, 'not really a question, is it?'
"What's up?"
"How are you doing?" he said, looking around.
"Fine," I said slowly.
"So where are you going again?" He picked up my stress ball and started throwing it up in the air.
"Madrid and Barcelona." I watched the ball go up and down, inexplicably transfixed.
"That's terrific. Pack warm clothes. It gets cold at night."
"Ok.... What's up?"
He looked at my bulletin board. I had the new sonogram up. "Is that the baby? Can I see it?" I handed it to him. "That is truly amazing. The detail. You can really see little Michael's face."
"Ha ha. What's up?"
"I was going to ask you the same thing," he said, throwing the ball up one last time and catching it backhanded.
"Huh? Something wrong with my work?"
"Not at all. But something's up lately. What's up?" He kept staring at the sonogram then me.
"Just trying to tie stuff up before I go." Will this be over soon, I thought? I have a lot to do and I don't want to waste too much time.
"I want you to relax while you're away." Now, I was nervous. My heartburn acted up and I tried to surreptitiously rest my hand on my stomach. It comforted me. I thought of Thumper and knew that, no matter what, I had him. Or her. I put my hand under my belly, which Mike couldn’t see because of the desk.
"Ok. I'll have my phone if anyone needs me. And I'll check emails every couple of hours."
"No you won't," he said. "I said relax, and," then he picked up my phone and mimed swiping through, "this is not relaxing. It's called a vacation. Go vacate."
"What if there's an emergency?"
"We’re not criminal lawyers. There’s no emergencies in real estate litigation the week between Christmas and New Year's?" He laughed. "Someone will handle it."
"I'm serious, Mike. I'm working on a lot."
He smiled, "I know. You've billed enough this year. And I want you to relax. You don’t realize it but this is the last relaxing trip you're going to have for years. After this, it's going to be 'how is the baby? Is the baby ok? Call your mom and make sure Mikey’s OK' then, 'no, I'm not buying more plastic crap. You have enough plastic crap.' Then, 'do I hear a party going on?'. This is you and Dan and just you two. Relax. See the sights. Eat some tapas. I'd say have some sangria but that's out, right? But relax. You can look at email once a day and unless it has a 911, you are not to respond." He looked at my eyes, "what's wrong, Jessica?"
"Nothing. "
"Seriously, what? I know that look. Maureen gives it to me all the time. You say nothing’s wrong, I say ‘OK’ and then six weeks later you bring it up. What’s wrong?"
I took a deep breath and thought about what Jodi said. I had spoken with Jodi about this. In her old life, ‘B.L. before Leo,’ she had been an employment attorney, representing management. When I told her what I was thinking, she said be forthright. Respectful but forthright. "What's going on, Mike? I've been getting the shit cases..."
"What?" He started squeezing the stress ball. Hard.
"You've been giving me third year cases to handle. Low grade condo suits. Anyone could do them."
"Anyone could," he said. "But did you notice the name on those cases?". I shrugged. They were various entities. "Ok, did you notice the address?" I looked at one file. It was a very well known address. "You know who's headquartered there," and he gave the name.
"Yeah. That still doesn't explain why you're giving me scut work.”
He let out some air. "All of those entities are owned by the same person. We are trying to steal that work away from Fried Frank. I didn't give it to you because it's scut work, Jessica. I gave it to you because I wanted it done right and efficiently, so they'd see how good we are."
I felt embarrassed. "Oh," was all I could mumble.
"What did you think?"
"I just thought.... I mean Lindsay."
"Lindsay was a fucking idiot, excuse me. You are not. What? You thought because I gave you these cases, I was trying to tell you something? When have I ever not told you something? I remember giving it to you after that Friesland case..." I just looked at my hands. He said, "look at me. You are not going anywhere. Even if you want to, you're not. You think I'm pushing you out because you're having a kid?". I looked at a spot on the wall behind him. "I'm serious."
"I just..."
"Jesus, Jessica. What the hell do you think of me? Have I ever treated you any differently than Jeff or Stephen or anyone?"
"No." I took the stress ball from him and started squeezing it, which made him laugh.
"And I'm not now. You are as valuable a member of this department as anyone, even Jeanine". He said that last part in a lower voice.
I laughed. "I'm telling."
"Then I will fire you. Seriously though, you are not going anywhere. I'm not letting you off that easily."
"Sorry, Mike."
"Don't be. But do me a favor. Two favors. Relax and next time, say something."
"Thanks, Mike.”
“Yeah, you’re welcome,” he said, looking at the sonogram one more time. “Damn, this is amazing,” and he left.
---------------------
Saturday December 23.
“Are you sure this is OK?” I said. We were in the car on the way to the party. I was wearing the dress with my Tiffany heart and flats. I put on heels but my legs started to really hurt. I played with the heart. It reminded me of Danny and made me feel loved. “It’s not too dressy?”
He smiled. “You look gorgeous, Jessa.” He was wearing, as predicted, a navy suit with a blue checked shirt and no tie. He looked really handsome.
“Really? You’re sure? It’s not too dressy? I won’t look ridiculous?” I kept having to adjust my bra straps. They were digging into my shoulders. I really needed to get refitted but didn’t want to deal yet, so I just adjusted constantly.
He laughed. “God, pregnancy has made you more neurotic. Which I didn’t think was possible.”
“I’m sorry. I just wanted to look pretty for you,” I said, reaching over to his waist, opening the zipper and sticking my hand in. I felt bad. Sex had become more and more difficult and I felt guilty.
“Stop, Jessa.”
That was unexpected. “Seriously? I can’t believe you’re turning it down.”
He groaned, “I want it more than anything but I need to focus on the road, Jessa.” He touched my belly. “I need to keep you and Thump safe,” and he touched my belly.
“Fine,” I sighed.
We drove the rest of the way listening to the radio. I alternated touching my belly and flicking the visor up and down, until Danny put his hand on the visor and said, with a smile, “enough.” I started to look at my phone but the motion of the car gave me a headache - like everything else these days. I opened the window a crack and let the cool air blow over my face until we got to Rich and Carrie’s.
We walked up to the house and rang the bell. Carrie met us at the door. She was wearing a black v neck cocktail dress and heels. I breathed a sigh of relief. “Thanks for coming. Ohmigod, Jess, you look gorgeous.” She kissed both of us.
“Stop, I look like a mauve oompa-loompa. This is for you,” I said, as I handed her a bottle of wine, and, “these are for Rich.”
“Oh god, you didn’t…” I had bought her husband Rich black and white cookies from Glaser’s, a bakery on the Upper East Side, near their old apartment. She yelled, “Rich, come here.”
As I saw him walking over, I said, “you said that he liked them and I just thought…”
“You and Jill. I swear. Dan, I love your wife,” which made him smile. “Rich,” she said, handing him the box.
He looked inside the box and grinned from ear to ear. “From Glaser’s? Oh wow….I’m putting these in the downstairs refrigerator.”
She rolled her eyes. “Child...what do you say? I swear to god he’s like Noah,” her eight year old.
He gave me a kiss. “Thank you Jessica.” He stuck his hand out, “Rich Fung, Dan. Good to meet you,” he said, “let’s leave these two,” and they walked off.
Carrie and I walked into the living room. I was on the dressier side, but not so dressy that I felt awkward. Jill was wearing a black dress and standing with their old preschool friends, Andrea and Elissa. I stopped for a second and pretended to get a drink. I watched the way they interacted. Andrea stood with her hip facing to whomever she was talking, with her shoulders tensed. Elissa was always standing with one foot back and Jill was Evelyn, although she’d never admit it. She had an open, welcoming stance, her arms hanging loosely by her sides but the look in her eyes told you that she was ready for whatever happened. Jill saw me and smiled, “Hey sis!” She gave me a kiss and brought me over.
Andrea and Elissa gave me the once over. Andrea was wearing a red v neck dress with three quarter sleeves and Elissa a pale blue shift, that complemented her coloring. They were all wearing heels which made me feel even more oompa-loompa like.
Andrea looked me up and down but, unlike the bat mitzvah, gave me a big smile. “Look at you. You look absolutely gorgeous. How are you feeling?”
I smiled and said, “Thank you for lying. Fine. The usual fun stuff.” They all laughed knowingly and she said, ‘ah, the fun stuff. How far along are you?’ “Twenty-six weeks.”
“Constipated yet?” Andrea asked.
I looked at all of them and they all looked perfectly fine with it so I said, “oh god, yes. I feel like…”
“You have your period times ten with the bloating?” Elissa said, laughing. “I hated that.”
“Ohmigod, yes. It is fucking killing me. That and the hemorrhoids,” I said, laughing.
Just then, Danny, Rich and Andrea’s husband Bryan walked in. Danny was holding a glass of scotch in one hand, and seltzer in the other.
“Hey, honey,” he said, handing me the seltzer. “I thought you might want a drink.” He leaned down and gave me a kiss on the cheek.
“Thanks, honey,” I said.
“Bryan, you remember Jessica,” Andrea said, with a big smile. He clearly didn’t. “From the bat mitzvah? Jill’s sister-in-law?”
He smiled. “Oh yeah,” he said, looking through me. “I remember now.” I nervously smoothed my dress and wondered if the shoulders looked ok. I hoped my bra strap wasn’t showing. “Congrats, you two,” he said, mostly to Danny, who smiled and shook his hand.
Jill got up and punched Danny in the arm, then gave him a kiss. “I was wondering when you’d come over.” I looked at him towering over her and smiled.
“Did you really care?” he half-joked.
“No, but I still wondered.” She introduced him again to everybody and they all just looked him up and down with contempt, which I appreciated.
He laughed, held up his glass and said, “Very nice seeing you all again. Excuse me.” I watched him walk away, him to his room and me in mine.
Jill smiled and said, “1 to 10, how much do you want to kill him?”
I smiled, “3.” Then, I saw him come back in and take a piece of tuna sashimi from the table. No tuna for me - mercury. “Sorry, 4,” which got a laugh from the women. Then, he took a piece of brie. Not that either - might not be pasteurized.
“5?” Elissa said, as we watched Danny leave the table. “Anyway, enough about him. You look gorgeous. I love that dress.”
I smiled. “Thank you. Yours too. That is a great color.” It reminded me of the dress that Laura and I saw, the one I wondered whether it would ever fit me again. “Yours too, Andrea.”
She smiled. “Thank you. You really look amazing. You really are glowing.” I looked at Jill, who smiled and gave a slight shrug.
“So, how did Chloe’s concert go? How was the solo?” Sarah had told me how Chloe (Andrea’s daughter) had a solo on ‘Let It Snow’ at the school concert. I asked partly because I cared (Chloe had come in one more time and was better without an audience) and partly to keep her off guard.
It worked. “Uh, great. Thanks for asking.” I smiled and turned to Elissa. “How’s Matt,” her sixteen year old, “doing? How’s the driving coming along?” I didn’t mind Elissa actually, but figured I should be fair to all parties.
“Well, he’s driving Mark,” her husband, “crazy, thanks for asking,” she laughed. “He’s doing fine though. I’m not looking forward to him being behind the wheel. It’s funny. I remember him in one of those little mechanical cars in the mall and now....it goes fast.” I started to tear up, thinking of Thumper driving. I shook my head, realizing that he should probably leave my uterus before he got behind the wheel. She looked at me and smiled. “You have a while yet. But it goes fast, faster than you think.”
Andrea laughed, “The years and the months fly by, but you’re going to learn exactly how long twenty-four hours is.” Then, they started on college admissions. Matt was a sophomore in high school.
“So, where is he going to do his volunteer project?” Jill said. She turned to me. “You have to do a volunteer project now to get into a good school. It’s expected.” Oh, I thought.
“He’s thinking of doing two weeks in a village in Senegal. They have them put up solar arrays for power.”
“That’s terrific,” Andrea said. “Sherri Marks’ son did something like that. He dug wells in Ghana, and he just got into Amherst.” I smiled, wondering what the causal link was. Was he mediocre, but Amherst said, “well, he dug a well, so come on in?’ I sat and listened to them for a while, about the college admissions process and wondered what Thumper would have to do.
Elissa read my mind. She smiled and said, “By the time yours is ready, he’ll probably have to travel to space to get in,” which made me laugh. Which in turn made me sneeze. Which in turn made me pee. Apparently, Thumper was putting pressure on my internal organs - including my bladder.
“Damn it,” I said. “I snissed myself.” The Bump gave it the cute name of ‘snissing.’ On top of everything, I had to wear a panty liner all the time. Which went along with the dress shields in my bra to prevent leakage.
Elissa said, “Snissed?”
Jill said that I turned red. “I sneeze…” I said.
And Elissa smiled and sighed. “And then you pee yourself. Snissing. Real cute. After Lily, I had no bladder control for years.” She looked at me and said, ‘sorry.’ ‘Sisterhood forever,’ I thought.
I shrugged. “It’s not enough that I spent the first three months teaching myself to hold back my own hair when I puked…”
Jill smiled. “You get to leak like a sieve. Come on, I’ll show you where the bathroom is,” she said. I felt mortified, like a child being taken to clean herself up.
She showed me where the bathroom was and I said, “I’ll be fine. Go back to your friends. Maybe, I’ll get something to eat after.” I sat down, cleaned myself off and put a new pad in my panties.
I walked out of the bathroom and stopped for a second, thinking about everything. I wondered if all the leakage this was nature’s way of getting me ready to care for an infant. De-sensitizing me to bodily fluids.
I was just thinking when I heard Yoram say, “I said, ‘Ma shlomech ima?” It meant ‘How are you, mommy?’ I liked that.
I gave him a kiss. “Oh hi, Yoram. Sorry, I space sometimes.”
He laughed, “I went through it twice. Pregnancy brain, she called it. How are you doing? You eat yet? You should eat something.” I smiled and he took by the arm into the dining room. I looked at the buffet. I half-heartedly picked up some baby lamb chops and grilled vegetables; I knew those were safe.
He laughed, picking up some sashimi. “Tuna won’t kill you. In Israel, they eat whatever. And smoke. In the delivery room. The doctors. ‘OK, here it comes,’ and then he mimed a doctor looking, then taking a drag off a cigarette and exhaling, ‘it’s a girl.’”
I laughed. “Don’t make me laugh, Yoram.”
He smiled. “Sorry. So how are you doing?”
“I’m doing,” I said, with a smile. Yoram brought out the fatalist in me. “How about you? Did the kids get off OK?” Jill had to grade end of semester exams, so she sent Sarah and Yoni to Florida for the week earlier that day.
“Fine,” he sighed.
He didn’t say that he was worried, but I knew he was. I was worried too, but I wouldn’t let on. Instead, I said, with what I hope he knew was sincerity. “I spoke to her honor and I laid down the law. I told her that I better not get any phone calls and she promised….”
He smiled, a sincere smile. “Thanks, Jess,” he said, taking me by the arm. “I’m not looking forward to it, you know.”
“I told you. I spoke to her. And I told Sarah to call me if she starts with her.” I was going to be in Spain. Any calls would be on a delay but he didn’t need to know that.
“I know. I know. You really think it’ll be OK?” He was never worried. He wasn’t naive about what went on. He just never worried.
“They have to survive driving with Marty…” which made him laugh. “Nah, I think so. She knows better now and Sarah knows better.”
He gave me another kiss. “Thank you, Jessica. For everything.”
I smiled and just said, “Please.” I looked toward the family room where I saw Danny in conversation. “How’s he doing in there?”
He smiled. “Why are you worried about him? He’s doing fine. When I left, they were talking about golf…”
I smiled, “Your favorite topic, I know.” He mimed pointing a gun at his head and pulling the trigger.
He said, “It’s fine. He’s fine. They all talk the same language. How about you? How’s Andrea?” He had a devilish grin.
I swatted him. “Stop. She’s my new best friend.”
He looked at the women and smiled. “I’m sure.”
“The college stuff is giving me a headache though. This one is going to Ghana to dig wells. This one is going to Senegal to put in solar arrays....”
“Ma’azeh (what) solar arrays in Senegal?” Clearly, whatever the men were talking about, it wasn’t this.
I smiled. “Elissa’s son Matt. That’s his project.”
“I don’t know. We all went to the army and came out. I think I did OK for myself.”
“Imagine what you would have done had you gone to Ghana.” I lowered my voice, “is it just me or is it all bullshit. Like I want to ask a college admissions counselor if they actually believe this shit…” He laughed. I continued, “you want to impress me? Go raise money so someone who knows how to dig a well can dig a well. Or study hydrology, so you’re not in the way when you go to dig your well. Better yet, go help some poor people in the Bronx.”
He smiled and, in a low voice, said. “Brown people there, good. Brown people here, not so much.” I started to giggle and clenched my vagina, which was surprisingly difficult, but the crisis was averted. “You know what the sad part is?” I smiled, and he said “you’ll do it and I’ll do it.” The sad part was he was right. “Anyway, we should probably get back.” He gave me another kiss. “I’m glad you’re here.”
----------------
We had an early flight on the 24th. I wanted to get to Madrid as early in the day as possible.
The alarm rang at 5:15. “Fuuuuck,” Danny said.
I gave him a peck on the cheek. “You can sleep for another fifteen minutes, at least. I’ll get ready first.” He pulled the pillow over his face and I went to shower. I stood in the shower, letting the water run over me while I talked to the baby, in a high-pitched sing-song voice. ‘Hey, Thump. Guess where you’re going today? Spain. Vamos a España. We are going to Spain. We are going to have so much fun. You and me and daddy. I am very excited….” I felt Danny staring at me. “What?”
He smiled. “Nothing. I just love watching you…”
I smiled, “Perv.”
“Not even close,” he said, wrapping my towel around me as I got out and giving me a hug from behind. “You are going to be the best mommy.” I smiled, holding back my thoughts. We were going to have a babymoon. A relaxing, romantic babymoon. Without my neuroses.
I put on a blue dress with black horizontal stripes, and black tights. For some reason, maternity clothes tended to horizontal stripes, which made me laugh. I’m not fat enough? You need to make look fatter? I took a selfie in the mirror. I went to post it to Facebook with the caption ‘babymoon’ with little baby emojis and smileys and stopped. I was a woman, not a fourteen-year old girl. Instead, I went with “Off to Spain. My belly arrives at 3. I get there at 4.”
Danny came up behind me, put his hands under my belly and said, “Look at you, all dressed up.”
“Stop,” I said, turning to my arms on his shoulders and kiss him. “I wanted to look pretty. To feel pretty.” I needed to feel pretty. Otherwise, I’d feel bloated. I hadn’t flown pregnant and could only imagine what that would do to my system.
He kissed me. “You’re beautiful. I love you, Jessa. Are you ready?” I smiled. “Paperbacks, right?” I smiled.
We took a cab to the airport, holding each other’s hands. Mercifully, the security line was short and I didn’t have to go through the x-ray machine. We were walking through the terminal when Danny stopped at the first class lounge.
“Um, honey, you have to have first class tickets…” He smiled and showed his phone to the guard, who waved us through. “Danny? What’s up?”
He smiled and said, “Thank Bruce. He gave us some of his miles. Between his and mine, here we are. Water? Juice? Muffin?”
“Why didn’t you tell me? I would’ve thanked him.”
“He wanted it to be a surprise for you.” He opened his arms wide. “Surprise!”
I started to cry. Stupid hormones. “Well, I have to thank him,” I said, taking out my phone.
He put his hand over mine. “No phone. Relax. Doctor’s orders.”
I smiled, “What doctor?”
“Doctor me.” Which was cute. I expected something like ‘Dr. Love.’
-----
Our hotel was in the Barceloneta district of Barcelona. Near the beach, and pretty central. Just walking distance from the train station where we arrived. Given Thumper, I didn’t want to do much walking.
We arrived at night, having taken a train from Madrid. The receptionist, who was a tired looking Eastern European woman, greeted us as we entered. I let Danny do the talking. I should have practiced my Spanish, as I rarely had the chance to speak, but I was tired. Instead I looked around. The hotel was originally built in the late nineteenth century (I’d been online and checked) and the style owed a lot to Art Nouveau. I’d been reading about the Catalan Renaixença and Modernisme and was eager to learn more. In the center of the foyer was a metal cage for the elevator. The cage was made out of iron, welded into a beautiful pattern resembling the leafs of flowers.
After we got the keys, I watched Danny wrestle to get the thing down. The receptionist had to come over and explain the trick. By the time it reached us Danny didn’t look too happy.
As the elevator went up I rested my head on his shoulder, hoping to show I appreciated his effort.
He sighed, “You couldn’t book a regular hotel?”
I had booked the trip. I could have booked a Radisson or a Hilton, which would have been cheaper and more modern, but I wanted this trip to be special. I wanted to stay in a classic old world European hotel. I hadn’t planned on the elevator though. “I thought this would be more romantic,” I smiled, looking into his eyes. Which proceeded to roll like slot machines.
The corridors were mostly quiet. In fact, we didn’t see anyone until we reached our room. Two women, one tall, with long hair and bangs, the other with short hair dyed red. They smiled and nodded at us as they opened their door. Danny was struggling with the key in the lock, so the taller woman leaned over and showed him how you needed to turn the handle at the same time.
“Thanks,” he said with a smile, although I could tell he was frustrated.
“Not a problem,” she smiled back, and then was gone. Just strangers passing in the night.
The room made up for the lack of service. It was beautiful, and decorated in the same Art Nouveau theme as the rest of the hotel. By the look of it, they were original features. Danny didn’t seem to see any of it and simply flopped on the bed, turning the widescreen TV on in an almost seamless movement.
“You OK?”
“Sure, sorry. I just need ten minutes.”
I lay down next to him nuzzling myself against his side. Not so easy these days with Thumper getting in between us. I felt his arm coming around me. I was only half watching the TV, just enough to notice he’d settled on a woman’s soccer match.
“Who’s playing?” I whispered.
Danny leaned forward, squinting, “ENG verses ESP, I’m guessing England vs Spain.”
I drifted off after that. I half remember Danny getting me undressed and into bed. The next thing I remembered was waking up to the sun coming in through the window. The clock by the bed said 6:46am, so I just rolled back asleep.
By the time we got up, the hotel was busy. A new receptionist, this time a young Spanish woman, greeted us as we came out of the elevator. Danny went to get some tourist information while I sat and people watched. I was surprised by how full the hotel was. Most seemed to be young Europeans and I spent a happy ten minutes trying to guess what country they were from. I half glanced down at the papers on the table, all were European, I didn’t see any American ones. There was a large picture of Trump on the front of most of them. I flipped the ones at the top over. This was a vacation, I didn’t want to know.
Danny came and sat next to me, “We’ve got a table in the restaurant. It’ll be about ten minutes.” His demeanor had completely changed from the night before.
The couple from the night before walked into the restaurant. “Do you mind if I take that one,” the taller one said, pointing to the Guardian, “I want to read about the football.” I hadn’t noticed her British accent the night before.
“Be my guest,” I said. The shorter one smiled at me, her eyes looking me up and down and, for a brief but noticeable second, alighting on my stomach. I smiled back, having become used to it, and she looked away.
Danny smiled, “I watched the game against Spain yesterday. Your women did well,” he said, putting his arm around me. “Do you know Barcelona?”
“I studied here, why?”
“Anything you’d recommend?” I was slightly annoyed, having planned what we were going to see. Then, I thought, ‘if she studied here.’ I wondered if he was enjoying being able to talk in English with someone other than me.
She smiled, “well, if you’re interested in football, go see Camp Nou, where FC Barcelona plays.” She took a piece of paper and pen and started writing one of those impossibly long European numbers. “You can do a tour…”
Her partner gave me a smile and a quick eye roll and said, “it has the best views. On a clear day you can see the sea in one direction, and the mountains in the other.”
The taller one smiled and continued, “if you’re in luck and they’re playing one of the midtable teams, you may be able to get tickets in the visitor’s section.”
“Thanks! Er…” I said.
“Oh, sorry, Liz,” I introduced the two of us and then she was off.
The rest of the day was busy. First we walked up Las Ramblas. I was disappointed as it seemed very touristy. Lots of stalls selling the sort of cheap crap that gets aimed at gullible American tourists. We had more luck with the Picasso Museum. Danny smiled, “in context, I totally get it,” he said. “Like the Warhol exhibit at the Tate. Sometimes, you just need to see the work together to get it.”
That led us into the narrow streets of the old medieval town. According to my Lonely Planet, Barcelona is split into three sections. There’s the old winding streets of the medieval city that makes up the most of the city center. Then there’s the grid system of the later, 19th century buildings, with its beautiful apartment buildings to the north. Then there’s the more modern city that surrounds that, which grew after the death of Franco.
We spent most of the day wandering, interspersed with sitting in cafes to give my feet a rest. I was glad we’d come in winter, I don’t know how I would have coped in the heat.
Sitting in a café overlooking one of the beaches, I put my feet up on one of the chairs. Without asking, Danny started massaging them.
“Oooo, that’s good.” I slipped down in my chair.
“How about the beach tomorrow?” he said, in a tone that went between pleading and commanding.
I looked up at the sky. Compared to New York, it wasn’t exactly wintery, but the sun was weak and the sky was equal parts blue and grey cloud. “I mean, it’s not exactly beach weather,” and I smiled thinking of Sarah’s bat mitzvah and ‘beach party chic,’ “but OK. We’ll take it easy.”
We were wandering around, slightly lost when we came across a little square near their main modern art gallery, the MACBA. Danny’s phone was struggling to get a signal so I pulled out the little tourist map the receptionist had given us. Two old women approached me. The first put her hand on my belly, while the second took my arm. I didn’t speak at first, I couldn’t understand what they were saying, but I got that, for the most part, they were cooing over Thumper. By this point I was used to being manhandled as a pregnant woman, but this seemed to be invasive by any standards. I looked over at Danny who caught my eye.
As soon as they caught a look of him, they seemed to evaporate. It took me only a moment to realise something was up.
“Danny, my purse!” I yelled.
My ears started to ring. I could hear shouting. I remember two blond girls, Dutch I think, leading me over to a little seat. There was an older Spanish man talking angrily and before I realized it two cops were standing over me.
The next hour or so was a nightmare. The cops were friendly enough. They took mine and Danny’s statements. I just kept asking was about my passport. I wasn’t worried about the credit cards - they could be canceled and new ones sent; besides, Danny still had his wallet. I only had 50 euros. But, my passport was lost and I started to panic. Why had I taken my passport? How long would I be stuck? Would Thumper be born here? Did that mean he or she couldn’t be president? Would our health insurance cover me out here? It took Danny a while to calm me down.
By the time we got back to the hotel, we were exhausted. The American consulate had been amazing. I’d have my replacement passport in the morning, but I still felt like something had gone wrong. Our babymoon was spoiled. Worse yet, I had read about these sorts of things and had still fallen for it. I had put Thumper in danger. We headed to our room and ordered up through room service then spent the next few hours mindlessly watching Spanish soaps and game shows.
Danny fell asleep around ten-ish but I couldn’t settle. The day’s events had set Thumper and he was taking his frustration out on my bladder. The image I had in my head was of a pinata. After the fifth trip to the toilet, I decided to go explore, hoping to calm both of us down.
I ended up in the bar where I ordered a club soda with lime, wishing I could have something stronger. There was a pianist in the corner playing old jazz numbers and, for the first time in hours, I could feel myself relaxing. Looking around the near empty bar, I spotted one familiar face.
“Hi Liz, would you mind me sitting down?” I felt bad when I noticed she she was reading.
“Hi, Jessica, isn’t it? Please do.”
“Sorry, I didn’t mean to interrupt your reading.”
She looked at her book, “Don’t worry. ‘Homage to Catalonia.’ “I read it every time I’m here. And, so far, I was just staring at the page. Please sit, I need the company.”
For a few minutes, we both watched the pianist quietly.
“Off on your own tonight?” I asked, realizing it was relatively early.
“No, I just can’t sleep. Kate was out like a light, but I was just lying there. I thought these might help,” she held up her book in her right hand and a glass of whiskey in the left.
I laughed, “Well, at least I can still read,” then I patted my belly. She laughed as well. “Do you mind me asking what you’re doing in Barcelona? Come to see old haunts?”
She looked at me for a while, swirling around her drink, “Sort of,” she said, cryptically.
“Spy mission?” I joked. She gave me a quick, ‘heh’ and a look. “Everything OK?” I asked.
She took a sip from her glass, “can I trust you?” I nodded, hopefully looking concerned enough. Now, I really began to wonder. A complete stranger asks that and your mind wanders. OK, my mind wanders. “Please don’t tell anyone, but we are here for fertility treatment. Apparently Barcelona is the egg donor capital of the world.” I realized why Kate was looking at me.
I would never tell anyone. Besides who would I tell? I went with, “Well, I’m not sure if it applies here, but say, ‘should I get sued in New York?’”
She looked at me like I was crazy. “What?”
I smiled, “Just say it.”
“OK...should I get sued in New York?” I thought I saw her shift down the bar.
“No, you shouldn’t. Now, this is privileged.” She continued to stare at me. “Lawyer humor,” I said, weakly. “Anyway, egg donor capital? I mean my friend Michelle and her wife did IUI in the states last year. The baby’s two and a half months now, Sebastian. He’s adorable,” I babbled. I went to take out my phone and then thought, ‘oh, shit, I have to replace it.’ Then I remembered it was in the safe, where I promised Danny and Mike I’d leave it. “But, they needed the, uh, other stuff…”
She laughed, “Very delicately put. I’m transgender and Kate’s family has a genetic illness we don’t want to pass on.” She took a big sip of her whisky. The pianist had finished and we all clapped politely.
“I get it. We’re both Jewish, Eastern European. We had all these rounds of testing before and I still have to do it now. Apparently, generations of marrying in the tribe has deleterious effects. Who knew?” I laughed a little, she didn’t.
“Yes, well, this is a nasty one,” and she left it hanging there.
I sat thinking for a while, my hand resting on Thumper. “Would you mind if I asked you a question? It’s kind of personal...”
She laughed to herself. “We’ve covered personal, haven’t we?”
“When did you know you wanted to be a woman? I mean, did you always know?” She looked at me directly. She had good, clear skin, but you could see the stress lines around her eyes. “Sorry that was totally inappropriate. None of my business.”
She looked at me thoughtfully. “On some level, I always knew, but it took me a long time, and about four years of therapy to realize what it was I was feeling and then be able to articulate it.” Silence fell and I feared I’d gone too far. I started to wonder if I always knew too but hadn’t realized or acknowledged it. “The hardest bit was accepting that was what I wanted. We like to think we’ve evolved as a society but as the referendum...”
“Brexit?”
She shuddered, “Please don’t mention that word. The referendum and, other… er.... elections.” I didn’t need to think too hard, remembering what Michelle said when they started trying, how they wanted to be sure they could still do it. I debating saying something but she continued, “but we really haven’t. We all,” and she half-smiled, including me in her ‘we,’ “pay lip service to difference, but we don’t mean it. Male means power. Female means weak, different,” which made me think about the past few weeks, months. “I’m a suspect. I hear it, feel it all the time, even from so-called feminists. My choice,” she said, dripping with sarcasm, “makes no sense to them.” I could see she was getting a little agitated and put my hand on hers, to, I don’t know? Comfort her? Show solidarity? It seemed to work. She smiled and looked down at her empty glass, “Sorry. I’m going to get another drink. Will you keep me company? Make me look like less of an alcoholic?”
We sat at the bar for a while and listened to the music. We talked about work briefly, but mostly about ourselves and our partners.
“Tell Kate to get ready is all I have to say,” I said, to Liz’s laughter. “You don’t want to know all the gross stuff I go through regularly.”
She laughed, “I’ve heard.”
“Well, seeing is believing. I mean I hope you’ll see.” She gave me an indulgent smile. “I mean, even with all the gross stuff,” and I put my hand on my belly, “it’s truly amazing. I wouldn’t trade it for anything.” I wouldn’t. I had never articulated it but I wouldn’t. If we had never changed, I would never have known, but I was glad it was me. “Sorry.”
“For what?”
“For being such a girl about it.”
She smiled. “If you can’t be a girl about this…”
-------------------
We woke up and then went to the beach and walked along. Before we left the hotel, I went to a shop and bought the cheapest pocketbook that I could find, hoping that it would distract the thieves. I hated being on edge like that but facts were facts. I started to beat myself up mentally over falling for it when Danny smiled and said, “Don’t.”
“Don’t what?”
“Don’t beat yourself up over yesterday. It could happen to anyone. They’re replacing your passport. You’ll get new credit cards. You lost what 50 euros? That’s like $60. It sucks but that’s like dinner at the diner. You’re safe, I’m safe, Thumper,” and he put his hand on my belly, “is safe. When we get old, you’ll have a story to tell at the pool - ‘I did not like Spain. We went when I was pregnant with Emma and they robbed me. A pregnant woman if you can believe that…”
I laughed. “Stop making me laugh. It makes me pee.”
He kissed me on the cheek. “You are so cute - ‘it makes me pee,’” he said, in a feeble attempt at a cutesy voice. “We’re great. We’re going to have a great time. Right?”
I smiled. “Yeah. We are.” I kicked off my sandals and he leaned over to pick them up. “Thanks.” I walked, the cold sand between my toes. I wanted to tell him about Kate and Liz but promised that I wouldn’t. Thumper was calm. I think the walking made him relaxed. I looked up at Danny and smiled. We rented two beach chairs and an umbrella and just sat, looking out at the Mediterranean and holding hands.
At one point, Danny said, “what’s it like?”
I looked up from my book, “the book? It’s fine.” I was reading ‘Hero of the Boer War.’ “History. Churchill. It’s good. You can read it when I’m done.”
“No, I meant being pregnant,” he said, intently studying the sea.
I laughed. “Glad to see you’ve been paying attention the past five and a half months. You’ve been to the appointments. You’ve seen me puke.”
He smiled, still focusing on the sea. “Is that it?”
I ran my finger up and down his palm. I wanted to put my head on his shoulder, but we were in separate chairs. Six months ago, I could’ve curled up in his lap and it would’ve been cute. Now, we’d be replacing a chair. “Is everything OK, Danny?”
The smile left his face. “I just wanted to know. What’s it like? What’s it like to be pregnant?”
I thought for a second, about how to articulate it. I didn’t know what he wanted to hear. I knew what I felt but something was up. I said, “it’s amazing, in every sense of the word.”
He turned to look at me and said, in a grave tone, “what do you mean?”
“I mean, you’ve seen the gross stuff so far. I don’t need to explain puking and snissing and leaking, do I?” He laughed and I continued, “but you’ve seen the sonograms too.” I took his hands in mine. “That’s ours. That’s our baby. You and me,” and I started to tear up.
He smiled, “What’s that like? For you, I mean. To have her wave the wand over your belly and know that’s part of you?”
I smiled. “Amazing. I would never have guessed it in a million years but it’s really amazing. Every day, I think about it. I wake up and I look at my belly and I think, ‘I’m having a baby.’ I kiss the sonogram good morning every morning at work, and think, ‘that little baby is in me, it’s me, I give it life.’” He was smiling but I could see the tears in his eyes. “Are you OK? Is this bothering you?”
His voice cracked a little and then he tried to regain composure. “No. I was just wondering. We spend so much time on the day to day and I never asked you. But I’m good,” he lied. He got off his chair and knelt in the sand, putting his hand on my belly. “You’re the mommy,” and he kissed my belly, then my lips.
“You sure?” I said, not really believing him.
“Positive,” he smiled, looking out at the sea again.
------------------
I woke up early the next day. We had plans to see Parc Guell. When I said that I had wanted to see Spain, in large part it was because of Gaudi. I had seen the pictures of Parc Guell and Sagrada Familia cathedral and I had to see them in person. When I was a kid, I liked drawing. I had half-entertained being an architect until, in 8th grade, we had to take aptitude tests. They had us put down our choices of careers. They were legendarily awful at predicting what you should be. They told my friend Jordan’s uncle, who was the CEO of a bank, that he should be a farmer. I put down architect as one of my choices and I swear the test came back - ‘look, we know we’re usually way off base on this, but we’re not here. You have no mechanical aptitude or spatial relations. At all. Please don’t be an architect. Please.’ Anyway, notwithstanding my lack of aptitude, I still loved architecture and Gaudi’s colors and fantastical swooping buildings were as much art as architecture. Form didn’t follow function and that was what I wanted. “I’m so excited,” I said, putting on my sneakers. I had decided to wear leggings, a sweatshirt, my down vest and my sneakers. I debated, not wanting to look like the ugly American tourist but, in the end, went with comfort - and varicose vein prevention. I knew the walking would put pressure on my legs and, while I wanted to be stylish and look European (or what I thought was European), I wanted to keep my legs more. “Are you excited?”
Danny smiled, putting on his jeans and sneakers. He was not concerned about fitting in. He had said, ‘we’re Americans, Jessa. It’s fairly obvious.’ He gave me a kiss. “Are you sure about this? I looked at it. It’s a pretty steep climb.”
I smiled and kissed him on the cheek. “Are you scared you can’t keep up with me? I ran. I swim. I will be fine.”
“Promise me you’ll stop if you get tired.”
“Promise me you will,” I said, joking. Sort of.
“I’m serious,” he said.
“I promise, Danny.” I was annoyed. I was pregnant. I wasn’t an invalid. I could do this.
I had downloaded the map to the Parc to my phone. As a concession to Danny, I had turned off the data plan, so that I could access the map while not checking e-mails.
We approached the Parc from the southside, the Carrer D’Olot. I was excited and was talking to my belly.
“Hey Thumper,” I said, not really caring if anyone was listening. “Mommy is really excited. We are going to see the Parc Guell. These are a lot of buildings designed by a famous architect, Antonio Gaudi. When you get older, I’ll show you pictures and, if you’re good, which you will be, because you’re the best baby, I’ll take you here and you can see for yourself. Would you like that?” Thumper gave a little kick. “I think Thump likes that.”
Danny smiled at me and shook his head. He leaned down, “Mommy likes art, Thump. A lot.” I stuck out my tongue.
You enter the park up a long flight of stairs. “Hey Thump,” I said, looking at my belly, “these are the dragon steps. A dragon, grrr….”
Danny laughed and said, “You are so cute.” Then, he looked at the stairway, “are you sure you can handle those?”
I looked at him and said, “can you?”
He looked concerned. “Seriously. Those are really steep.” He saw a taxi going up hill. “Can we take a cab?”
“No,” I snapped. “I want to see the stairs. There are all kind of mosaics and statues on the way. I want to see everything.”
“Please, Jessa. Just promise you’ll be careful. Please.”
I was annoyed. I wasn’t an invalid. I was pregnant. I wasn’t running a marathon. I was climbing stairs. I climbed stairs all the time. I could do this.
At the entrance to the stairway was a multicolored mosaic dragon. “Look at this,” I said. “Look at how amazing this is. Look at the detail.”
Danny looked at it, “it is amazing.”
“Don’t placate me,” I joked.
“I’m not. Stand next to it. Let me take a picture.” I stood next to it, smiled and pointed at my belly. I wanted something to show Thumper when he or she was born. “OK, now take one of me.”
A couple came over and the man said, in a British accent, “would you like me to take one of both of you?” I handed over the camera, trusting that he wouldn’t take it. I hated that I thought it, but I wouldn’t have done it had they looked like the two women from the other day.
He took the picture and the woman said, in a Scandinavian accent, “so, how far along are you?” Into the box again.
“Five and a half months,” I said, with a smile.
“Congratulations. Your first?” I smiled and nodded. “It goes fast. Our son is studying here now.”
Danny smiled. “He must be his from his first marriage. You’re far too young.”
The woman smiled, “And you’re far too blind or far too bad a liar, young man. Congratulations again.”
We started walking up the steps. I could feel my legs tightening up, which the Bump said was to be expected. My joints and ligaments were stretching, preparing my body to give birth. About halfway up, we stopped to look at a dragon carving on the wall. “Isn’t that something?”
“Are you getting out of breath?” he said, with concern.
“I’m fine,” I lied. “Besides, we have tickets for the 1:00 PM. tour.”
“So what? If you’re tired, rest. We’ll get other tickets.”
“I’m not tired,” I said, bouncing on my toes to try and stretch my calves.
“Yes, you are,” he said. “You’re trying to stretch your legs. Don’t lie to me.”
“I am fine,” I said, through gritted teeth. “If you want to stop, just say so and I’ll meet you up there. But we have tickets and I. Am Not. Missing. This.”
About three-quarters of the way up, I felt light headed, like I was going to collapse. I paused and leaned against the wall and started to slump.
“Jessa!” Danny yelled, putting his arm around me and gently putting me on the steps. People walking up tried not to stare. “Goddamnit, Jessa!”
“People are looking, Danny…” I said, trying and failing to stand up. “Come on, let’s finish.”
“I don’t care. Goddamnit, Jessica,” he said, using my full name. “Sit down!”
“Danny! Don’t talk to me that way!”
“What way? Like you’re being pigheaded? You are and you know it.” I was. He was right. I wouldn’t admit that though, no matter what my body was saying.
“I want to get up there,” I huffed.
“I don’t care what’s up there! There is nothing up there that is as important as you and that baby!” he said, pointing at my stomach. People stopped pretending. They were now staring. ‘Come one, come all, come see the crazy pregnant woman climb stairs. And fail!’ “That’s all I care about.”
“And I don’t?” Now I was angry. I was wrong, but I was angry nonetheless.
“Of course, you do,” he said, sitting down next to me. I put my head on his shoulder and took a sip from his water bottle. The crowd started to disperse. “What’s wrong?”
“I’m just winded is all.”
“That’s not what I mean.” I knew that. “Why are you doing this to yourself?”
“I can do this,” I said, starting to tear up. “I can totally do this.”
“Jessa, I hate to break this to you but you’re pregnant. There’s nothing wrong with getting tired or taking a cab. Your body is changing.”
I smiled, “I’ve heard.”
“I’m serious. I know you. I know that you want to do everything just like you used to but maybe you can’t. At least not now. And that’s OK.”
“No, it isn’t. I can do this.”
He put his arm over my belly. “No, you can’t. If something happens to you, do you know how much trouble I’ll be in?”
I smiled, thinking of my dad trying to fight him. And then my mom and Evelyn joining in. I laughed, “I’ll take it slowly, OK?”
He smiled and rolled his eyes, “and they call Sammie the Bull.” He took my arm and we walked slowly up the steps.
When we got to the top, it was 1:15. “Dammit. We missed our tour.”
Danny smiled and walked over to the ticket agent, while I sat on the bench. “Perdone me, estábamos en la excursión de una hora, pero,” and he pointed at me, “mi esposa esta embarazada y ella decidió intentar subir las escaleras.” My wife is pregnant and she decided to climb the stairs. The agent laughed and Danny continued. “Yo se, yo se. Es posible para cambiar estos boletos?” Can we exchange these tickets? The ticket agent smiled and said to me, “ven aca.” Come here.
I walked over. “Si?”
She smiled. “Cuantos meses?”
“Cinco y media.”
She smiled, handing us two new tickets. “Estos son para el tour especial. Pero, no puedes bajar las escaleras. Prometeme!” These are for the special tour. But, you cannot go down the stairs. Promise me!
I smiled and sighed. “Si. Muchas gracias.”
“Por supuesto. Buena suerte.”
Danny smiled, “See? It’s all OK. You’re not missing anything.”
“I’m not a child,” I said, taking another sip of water.
In a patronizing voice, he said, “no, you aren’t. You’re a big girl,” he said, spreading his arms wide.
I laughed in spite of myself. “Shut up.”
He gave me a kiss and said, “seriously though. Please. “
We walked through the Monumental Zone, the guide explaining the architecture and history, how it was all supposed to be an estate.
“Look at this, Danny,” I said, as we passed through the ‘Laundry Room Portico,’ its walls shaped liked waves, “Isn’t this amazing? “ I wanted to tell Thumper what we were seeing, but decided that would look ridiculous. Danny and the guide smiled every time I spoke, the guide periodically congratulating me on ‘having done your Gaudi studies.’
At the end of the tour, we were headed to La Sagrada Familia, the cathedral on which Gaudi was working before he was unexpectedly killed. It was a forty-minute walk away. I felt up to it but decided to take a taxi. After all, I had promised the tour operator.
It was about 5 PM when we finished the tour. In the states, we would have waited a couple of hours and then went to dinner. However, a restaurant in Spain at 7 is like a restaurant in the US at 3 PM. The chairs are up and the staff listlessly milling about, getting ready for the dinner rush at 11. Thump, however, was not interested in the Spanish customs on dining, He was hungry. We went to a bar and had tapas. I was picking at a plate of olives and cheese when I looked at Danny, “I love you.” I looked at him in his button down shirt, the way the green of the shirt brought out the flecks of green in his eyes. The way he smiled. I looked at him and hoped that our baby would have that smile. It’s funny. It’s what I always loved about Jess. Intellectually, I knew I was looking at the old me but, when Danny smiled, I saw the smile I fell in love with. The one that made me feel safe, feel loved.
He smiled, “I love you too, Jessa. What brought that on?”
“Nothing,” I said, taking his hand. “I’m just really happy, you know? Are you having a good time?”
“Of course.”
“You’re not bored?”
He smiled, “of course not. I’m having a great time. I loved watching you speak with the guide. It’s one of the things that I love about you, that I’ve always loved about you. You’re so smart and, when you love something, you see the passion come out.”
I smiled. “It’s not annoying?”
He laughed, “no. That’s what people love about you. Remember, the Breakers? That’s why Ellen loves you too. It’s what’s going to make you a great mom. You want to share what you know and you make people like it too.” He leaned across the table and gave me a kiss. “So, I spoke to the concierge and we’ve got a dinner reservation at 10 at some place in the Eixample district. Supposed to be trendy and all that.”
I smiled, “that sounds wonderful. I made plans to see Camp Nou tomorrow. We may be able to see them play Villa Real.”
He smiled, “Great. Is that a good game?” We both wanted to see a football game. I supposed it would have helped to know something.
I shrugged, “would we know if it wasn’t?”
We finished our tapas and went back to the hotel. We came into the room and, as the door closed, I stood on my toes and forced open Danny’s mouth with my tongue. He put his arms around me and pulled me close, well as close as my belly would allow. He pulled my shirt over my head and unhooked my bra, kissing my breasts and putting his hands down my leggings and grabbing my ass. He went to pull down my leggings. He laughed, “damn, these are tight.”
I giggled. “Try wearing them. I better not get varicose veins,” I said, as I wrestled them down while he took off his pants and underwear. We laid down and began kissing each other again and running our hands all over each other. I had noticed how he would play with my breasts, but not touch my stomach. I was getting excited and said, “please Danny...now….please.”
He started to move pillows around to put them under my back. There weren’t that many. In an American hotel, there were multiple pillows, probably to accommodate the sleep apnea that was becoming prevalent as we got fatter. Not here though.
I was watching Danny look around when I took a deep breath and said, climbing on all fours, “this is silly, Danny.”
He said, “are you sure? I mean…”
I smiled, “don’t kill the mood, Danny. Stop talking and make love to me, OK?” He started to say something, and I said, “stop. Don’t talk. Just grunt.” He flipped me over and kissed me again, making silly grunting sounds. “Oh, stop it, you ape,” I said, rolling myself over and pushing myself up on all fours again, which was making me winded. If he rolled me over again, all bets were off.
I sat there on all fours, feeling the weight of my boobs and belly pulling on my spine. He entered me and began thrusting away. I could feel his balls slapping against me as he grabbed my hips. ‘Oh god, oh god,’ he kept saying, ‘unh...unh...unh,” and that I felt him come inside me. He pulled out and I could feel it dripping. I rolled myself over and then went to the bathroom to clean up. As I sat on the toilet, wiping myself clean, I thought, ‘it wasn’t awful. I mean I didn’t come but it wasn’t awful. Nothing changed.’ I thought about it and laughed to myself. ‘You’re a woman. A pregnant woman who had sex with her husband. Stop thinking about it, Jessica.’ I smiled and walked back into the bedroom. Danny was lying there, looking at me while I walked out, a big smile on his face. “Hey, beautiful,” he said, as I got back into the bed.
“Hey,” I said, with a smile. “Someone’s happy.”
“I am,” he said, his arm draped over my belly, while he kissed my neck. “What about you?”
‘Please don’t ask me if I’m OK. Please don’t,’ I thought. “I’m great. I’m in Spain with my husband, who I love. We had a great day and we just made love. Nothing could be better.” That seemed to satisfy him because he said, “I love you,” and he kissed my neck. And then we both fell asleep, him spooning me while his hand sat on Thumper.
-------------------------
December 31 - our last night in Barcelona
It was 10:30. We were going out for a late dinner and to celebrate the New Year on the beach. I had taken a nap that afternoon so that I could welcome in the New Year, our last New Year’s before we became a family.
I was wearing the blue dress with the lace sleeves that I had seen when I was with Laura. I had loved it that day, maybe more than the mauve, and went back for it. I was wearing it with a pair of wedge sandals and a shawl. “Do I look OK?”
Danny smiled, “you look,” and he kissed me on the lips, “gorgeous. I can’t believe it’s almost 2018.”
I kissed him again. “Me either. This is going to be one hell of a year.”
“One hell of a great year,” he said, pulling me to him. “This time next year…” and he put his hand on my belly. “We’re going to be mommy and daddy.” I looked at myself in the mirror, at my hair and my dress and my growing belly and I felt at peace. I was mommy and it was right.
We went to dinner and, at around 11:30, started walking to the beach. Danny had gotten a bottle of champagne from the hotel and two glasses.
“A sip won’t hurt Thumper,” he said, taking my hand.
I smiled, “I know. I checked with Dr. Andopolis before we left. You know, she thinks I’m nuts.” My feet were killing me and I planned to kick off my heels the minute we hit the sand.
He kissed me. “You are nuts and that’s why I love you.” He took my hand and we walked slowly to the beach, walking past the bars, all filled with revelers. I had no interest in any of that. I had Danny, he had me, we had a bottle of champagne and the beach and that’s all I needed.
Around 11:50, we got to the beach. I took off my shoes and was immediately 3” shorter than Danny and I liked it that way. I remembered how Jess had always said that she liked how much bigger I was, how it made her feel safe. I had liked that she liked it but had never really thought about it before. “It’s colder than I expected,” I said. He immediately took off his jacket and wrapped it around me. I pulled it in tight, smelling his cologne, and felt loved and protected. I thought how he would always be there for me and Thumper. I didn’t need to be protected, I could take care of myself if I had to. But I liked it.
The beach was crowded, but we found a relatively secluded spot on the beach and sat down on the sand. “Are you sure you’re OK?” Danny asked. “I wish I had brought a blanket with us.”
I put my head on his shoulder. “I’m fine,” I said, looking up into his eyes. “Between the dress and my pantyhose, I am fine. No, I’m great. I couldn’t imagine anywhere else I’d rather be…”
“And anyone else I’d rather be with,” he finished. I hoped no one was nearby and had to hear that. Vomiting is no fun on New Year’s. Well, not until later, at least.
Danny looked at his watch. “20, 19, 18,” he began counting down. At midnight, he gave me a deep kiss, then poured us two glasses of champagne. “Happy New Year, Jessa,” he said, clicking my glass. “I love you.”
“Happy New Year, Danny. I love you too.” We sat for a few minutes looking at the lights of the ships at sea, holding hands and not talking. Life was perfect, for now and that’s all I needed.
The saga of Danny and Jessa comes to a close. Thanks to everyone who's stuck with me and special thanks to Lizzy Bennet, whose input has made this a much better and fuller story than I expected.
-----------------
Week 33 - the baby was as big as celery, which I found hard to believe. I had, as of my last doctor’s appointment, I had gained twenty-seven pounds and was now a DD cup, which Danny enjoyed. My belly was big enough to have its own zip code.
I had gotten used to being pregnant, to the invasive nature of being pregnant. When you’re pregnant, your body ceases to be your own. You lose all sense of shyness and privacy. You have to. I had to pee in specimen jars like a parolee being tested. If I saw stirrups, I stripped down and spread my legs. When I was first pregnant, I flinched when they took my blood and Danny had to hold my hand. At my last appointment, I’m pretty sure the UPS man took my blood in a closet. The little hotel guest inside me took over my life; why not let the maintenance staff do its job?
I woke up every morning and just looked at myself naked. We were less than two months away and it was really hitting me. I was having a baby - and soon. It wasn’t a clump of cells, a fetus anymore. It was a baby. A real baby, with a brain and bones and everything.
We had had an ultrasound this morning. The technician squirted the goo onto my stomach.
“Damn, that’s cold. I’m going to invent goo warmer and make a mint.” ” She just smiled and said, ‘you say that every time.’
She waved the wand over my stomach and we saw the baby sucking its thumb and looking at us, I thought. This was our baby. Danny didn’t speak for a while, he just stared in amazement. I could see him tearing up and squeezed his hand. “You OK, honey?”
He smiled. I couldn’t tell what was behind it. He squeezed my hand and croaked, “I’m fine. I love you, Jessa. That’s our baby,” and he kissed me.
We finished up the sonogram and I got dressed again. I would have loved to spend the whole day just rubbing my belly and thinking, but I had to get to work. The firm gave you three months paid leave for pregnancy and I planned to work until I went into labor. I wanted every second with my baby.
I had to head to a client meeting downtown by the courthouse. It was on the big condo project. Jake and Rachel were meeting me.
I took the cold bottle of water that I now carried everywhere and held it against my neck. It was forty-five degrees out but I was sweating. Apparently, my metabolic rate was going up which made me sweat. I was holding the bottle against my neck and walking when all of sudden, I felt a bump and heard a woman say, “Shit,” in a British accent.
“I am so sorry,” I said, looking up at her. She was at least 5’10” tall and wearing black jeans and a black wool coat, on which was now spattered coffee, the cup of which was now on the ground. “I wasn’t watching where it was going.”
She looked at my belly and smiled, “It’s quite alright.”
“No, it isn’t. I’ve ruined your coat,” I said, reaching into my bag and taking $20 out of my wallet. “Here, take this to get it cleaned,” I said, forcing the money into her hand.
She took it and gave it back. “I appreciate the offer, but you really don’t have to. Accidents happen.”
“Well, the least you could let me do is buy you another cup of coffee. I won’t take no for an answer.”
She rolled her eyes at me. “If you insist,” she said. “It’s just over there,” pointing at a shop called ‘The Jumping Bean.’
We walked and I stared at the drying coffee on her coat. She didn’t seem upset but I couldn’t handle the silence. “I’m Jessica, by the way. Jessica Silverman,” I said, offering my hand.
She was the first woman in a long while who didn’t look me up and down. She put out her hand, “Esme Entwistle.” The shop was interesting, concert posters up. Weird indie folk playing. Legitimately weird, and not the focus grouped, preplanned weird that came from corporate in Seattle. It smelled like coffee. And spelt bread.
The barista smiled and said, “You back for a second cup already, Esme? You got a problem.” Clearly, she was a regular.
She laughed, a throaty laugh that reminded me of Tea Leoni. “Not quite, Juwan. Jennifer…”
“Jessica,” I interjected.
“Sorry, Jessica here bumped me and wouldn’t let me go without buying me another one.”
“Yes, sorry again. Whatever she wants, Juwan. Please.” He smiled and made her a double shot cappuccino. I smelled the beans roasting and sighed. Eight months in and I still wanted caffeine. I ordered a green tea and stared morosely at it. I said, “This place is great. I’ve never been here. How do you know about it?” A woman came in, looked at my cup and gave me a judgmental look. I smiled tightly and said, ‘green tea.’ Stupid bitch.
She was standing at the counter, putting some brown sugar in her coffee. “I work nearby,” she said, looking at her watch. “I’m a reporter. At the Reporter.” She looked bored.
I wanted to ask her about it, and tell her how I was a reporter too, sort of, but thought better. I was the pregnant woman who had spilled her coffee and made her take a new one. She wasn’t interested in conversation but I couldn’t let her go. I wanted her to like me. All I could come up with was, “Are you from the North?”
She smiled, “Excuse me?”
“Your accent. It sounds Mancunian.” I had camp counselors from all over England and the ones from London would mock the ones from the North as ‘savages.’
That worked. She smiled and said, “You’re one of the few Americans who can tell the difference. What about you? What do you do?”
“I’m an attorney. Litigation. Mostly construction and real estate.” I pointed at her coffee and smiled. “You should probably take a sip of that to stay awake.”
“Probably,” she said. “Well, anyway, I should get back to the office,” she said. “Thank you for the coffee.” Then she paused, “do you have a card? In case I ever need comment on a real estate story. Or working mums.” I smiled at ‘mums,’ it sounded so classy. I handed her a card, hoping that it wasn’t idle chatter. Then, she said, with an eye roll, “I suppose I should let you know that we have, the paper that is has, a podcast. The Weekly Briefing, shite name in my opinion, available on iTunes and Stitcher and what not.” She laughed, held up her cup and said, ‘well, now, if anyone asks what I’ve done for promotion, I can answer truthfully. Cheers.”
“Cheers,” I said as she walked out the door. I took another sip of my tea and, when no one was watching, threw it away. I hated green tea.
------------
Jake and Rachel were supposed to meet me in the lobby of the client’s building before we went upstairs. When I got there, Jake was waiting in the lobby, with a rolling case of files. “Hey, Jess,” he said.
“Good morning, Jake. Did you bring all of the financials, all the paperwork showing the delays?” This was a high-end condo project. Most of the suits were about overselling, but a few buyers raised the issue of delays. One of our defenses was that the project had been subject to unavoidable delays due to a strike in Italy. The buyers of the condos expected not just marble, but a specific marble from a specific quarry in Italy. Every so often, I thought how patently absurd it was. There were people who needed legal assistance - people on death row, abused women, people, like Michelle and Amanda and that couple from Spain, who were discriminated because of who they loved and who they were - and I was arguing over multimillion dollar apartments and marble.
He smiled, “It’s all in here. Plus, I put together a PowerPoint to show the major points. I figured the client is not going to read 200 pages…”
I smiled. As much as he was Golden Boy, he was a great attorney and dedicated to the case. I would have done a PowerPoint too, when I was his age. I laughed, “You’re right. Thanks. Good job, Jake.” I looked around, “Where’s Rachel?” He shrugged.
We waited ten minutes and she still hadn’t shown up. I sighed, “email her and tell her to meet us upstairs.”
We went upstairs and were waiting in the conference room, when Rachel came in - fifteen minutes late. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I was at Brendan’s yesterday and my alarm didn’t go off and then I had...”
I held up my hand. “Do you have the files I told you to bring?”
She rummaged through her litigation case and pulled out a file. “Here it is,” she said, with a smile.
“Did you make copies for the client?” She had been told to make clients.
“Er….”
“Go to the desk and ask if there’s a copier you can use.” She was driving me crazy. I hated that she couldn’t remember something so simple and that she didn’t seem bothered. I had been doing my best and was slowly realizing that this was who she was.
Luckily, the client was delayed on a call so that we were still waiting when Rachel came back with the copies.
I took her aside and said, “Rachel, come on. The alarm? And copies?”
“I, uh….I mean I know I screwed up, but it’s OK. He’s not ready yet.”
“It is not OK, Rachel. It’s a problem. The fact that, in this particular instance, there’s no consequence,” and I paused, “with the client doesn’t mean it’s not a problem.” Thumper gave me a big kick and I winced.
“Are you OK?” she said, with genuine concern.
“I’m fine,” I said, and she interrupted me with, ‘how was the doctor today?’ I regretted letting her know. I needed to set boundaries. Jake didn’t know that I was at the doctor, I didn’t think, and even if he did, he didn’t ask.
“Fine, Rachel. But, next time there is no next time. This can’t happen again. And someone else won’t be so nice. Understood?” She nodded, looking like a kicked dog. “Good. Let’s go in and show them what we’ve got.” I put my hand on her shoulder, “it’s over. Do better next time, OK? Maybe make lists.” She looked down. Jake, to his credit, looked off in the distance, his face bearing no emotion whatsoever.
When all was said and done, the meeting went well. The client was impressed with our presentation. He wasn’t happy but clients never are. The best you can hope for is not upset and we got that.
We left the meeting and hailed a cab. “Would one of you mind scooching in? It’s, uh….” They both smiled, looking at me like I was an invalid old lady. ‘Hey,” I thought, ‘I was running ten miles. Eight months ago.’ Jake looked at the two of us in back and said, ‘I think I’ll sit up front.’
We were in the cab back and I said, “Jake, I meant to tell you before. Great job today. The client really liked the PowerPoint.”
He smiled, “Thanks. Hey, Rach, good point on the delays. The client seemed really impressed.” I smiled, admiring his generosity in a situation where he could have said nothing and been fine.
She smiled and then gave me a hangdog look, “Thanks.”
“We’re a good team, the three of us,” I said, half-meaning it. “Tomorrow, I want to take you guys to lunch. If you don’t mind being seen with an old lady,” I said, with a smile. They both accepted and I remembered back to when I was their age. Victoria took me to lunch. I was grateful for the face time but was so nervous the whole time, thinking before I spoke and eating unusually slowly. I assumed that she came back and told everyone she thought I was developmentally challenged.
I was sitting in my office doing work when Robin came in. “How did it go today?”
I sighed, motioning to a chair. “What the hell am I going to do with her?”
She rolled her eyes, “What now?”
I started to describe what she did and then stopped. “I just wonder if she gives a shit or not.”
Robin smiled. “That’s the wrong question. It’s not whether she gives a shit. It’s, ‘Is she capable of giving a shit?’ Or ‘if she does, can she do anything about it?’”
“And?” I said, holding my water bottle to my neck. Robin looked at me, the way she did whenever I did it. “Fucking hormones. What do you think?”
“I like Kimmy and all, but yeah. I don’t know.”
“So, what do I do? If I tell Mike she’s not cutting it, do I look bad?”
“Maybe, but if she fucks up the case, you look a lot worse.”
“That won’t happen,” I said. “I’m not giving her the real shit to do.”
“So, who’s picking up the slack? You or Jake?” She wasn’t really asking, just pointing out the obvious.
“Fuuuck. I have to figure this out. Do we stop the lunches?” To be honest, I had come to dread lunches with Rachel. I couldn’t speak freely and always felt like she was watching me.
Robin smiled, “It’s your call.”
“Thanks,” I said. “Make me the bad guy.” I laughed, “Yeah, we’re done. I tried. I failed.”
“You didn’t fail. She is who she is. Not everyone can do the job. They all can’t be us.”
“That’s probably not all bad,” I laughed.
Robin picked my stuffed Bucky the Badger off my bookshelf, and started sitting it on my desk. “How was the doctor?”
“Fine. Everything is,” and I knocked on the desk. “Fine. Moving along.” She looked at me. “Yeah, I’m superstitious. I’m up twenty-seven pounds…’
“Stop it. You’ll lose it. Bet Dan loves your tits though.”
“Oh, ick, Robin,” I laughed.
“Oh, ick,” she said, mocking me. “I bet Dan is always burying his face in them and motorboating you. I would, if I were into that kind of thing.” I needed this. I needed a good, disgusting NSFW conversation. I could always count on Robin.
“You wish,” I said, laughing. “My fucking back is killing me. Like I thought maybe the belly and the tits would balance each other out. But, nope, just means my whole back hurts.”
She smiled, “you’ll be fine, Jess. With everything.”
“Here’s hoping,” I said, holding the water bottle up.
----------------------------------------
Week 35 - Thumper was as big as pineapple.
It was Saturday morning. Jill was bringing Sarah in for our monthly visit.
“You sure you’re up to it?” Jill said on the phone that Friday.
“I’m fine, Jill. I’m a big fat pregnant lady, but I’m not an invalid,” I said, laughing. “I go to work every day and everything.” I was sitting on the couch in a t shirt that showed the bottom half of my belly and a pair of sweats. Once I got home, I no longer cared what I looked like. I was going to be comfortable. Sometimes, for laughs, Danny would put his drink on my belly. I actually found it funny. We couldn’t have sex very often so this was what passed for intimacy - being a coffee table.
She laughed, “You’re sure?”
“Yes, I’m sure. I look forward to it. Does Sarah?” I was wondering when she’d stop wanting to see me and just hang with her friends.
She said, “Yes. She is totally into it.”
“She’s not just placating me because I’m pregnant?” Pregnancy had made me, as Danny said, ‘more neurotic, scary as that is.’
“Are you kidding, Jess? She loves you. She’d come in every weekend if you’d let her.”
I wasn’t sure I believed her. “Sorry, I’m just getting nuts lately,” I said, putting my hand on my belly.
She laughed. “I totally get it. How’s it going?”
“My hips hurt like hell.”
“That’s just…”
I interrupted. “My body getting ready. I get it. But, it still sucks.”
“How’s my brother?”
I debated asking her what she thought about his response at the doctor, about him asking what it felt like, but decided not to. He kept Jill at arm’s length, he always had, and it wasn’t for me to push them together. Besides, it would probably only drive them apart. “He’s fine. How’s Yoram?”
“Good,” she said. “My brother’s being good?”
I laughed. “He’s being great. He comes to all the appointments, rubs my feet, does everything he’s supposed to.”
“And her honor?”
I laughed. “Oh stop. She’s fine. I spoke to her the other day.”
She said, “You have no idea how excited she is for this. She loves you.”
I blurted out, “yeah, so your brother never tires of pointing out.” I regretted it the minute that I said it. I was twirling my hair around my finger. Lately, I was mesmerized by the way it would curl then unravel. I didn’t think I had pregnancy brain, but that pregnancy ate my brain. Soon, I’d be swatting at balls of yarn like a cat..
“Oh, god, is he still on that?”
I thought about it and decided that she had seen it first hand, so it was different than the doctor. Yeah, it was a cop out. “Not as much, but yeah. I don’t know what to do.”
“She likes women better. And she loves you. You’re her buddy,” she teased.
“Why don’t you share THAT with him? That’ll make him feel great,” I said. Then, I got serious. “I wish I could make him feel better about it. I really do.” I really did. I hated the way his shoulders would slump and then he would tense up whenever she called.
“I know. I know. Once you have the kid, you won’t have time for existential angst.”
“Great,” I said, drawing out the word. I smiled and touched my belly. Soon, I’d be done being pregnant. I’d be mommy. Me and my baby. “Anyway, I can’t wait to see you guys tomorrow.”
“Me too.”
“You’re sure Sarah’s into it?”
She laughed, “Yes. Stop. She can’t wait to go shopping with you. Softie.”
“She’s my niece. It’s not just because we go shopping, is it?”
She laughed, “I’m done dignifying that. See you tomorrow. Love you.”
“Love you too, Jill. And I’m pregnant, you have to humor me.”
“No, I don’t, Jess. Bye, Jess.” She hung up and I went to Dan’s dresser. I began organizing his t shirts, first by those with logos and those without. Then by team and then by color. OK, it sounds nuts but it wasn’t. Last week, I had started nesting in earnest.
Last Saturday, Dan came home from basketball. I was in the bedroom and he walked in.
“What’s up? What happened?” he said, pointing to the bed, on which I had laid out all of my clothes.
I pointed to the various piles. “These are my sixes, these are my eights,” and I took a deep breath, “these are my tens.”
He smiled, “Uh huh. And?”
“I’m organizing them. That way, as I lose the weight, everything will be together. It makes sense.”
He kissed me on the nose. “Nesting?”
“Excuse me?”
“You’re nesting. It’s totally normal. I get it.”
“Hello?”
He smiled. “I’ve been reading up. Plus,” and then he stopped and got a look on his face. Lately, I saw that look more and more. Like he wanted to say something about I don’t know what. Melissa. Jill. How it used to be. Or maybe I was just crazy. He continued, “I’ve just been reading,” he said, with a small smile. Then he kissed me. “With your OCD and nesting, I’m afraid.”
“Stop it,” I said, putting my hands on my way too big hips. “I just like being organized.”
“It’s cute,” he said, grabbing me and pulling me close, well as close as possible. He kissed me deeply. “I love you Jessa.”
“I love you too. What brought that on?”
He went around me (which now required a navigator), lifted my shirt and put his hands on my bare belly, linking his fingers together. “I just do. And I love watching you be pregnant. Is that weird?”
I thought about it. I loved the way he’d put his hands on my belly and help me up. The way he’d play with my hair and kiss my belly with little kisses. The way he’d wipe my tears when I cried during a movie (hormones). I loved being pregnant and loved the way he was during it. “Not at all.”
“Good,” he said. We just stood there for awhile, not saying anything.
-----------------
Saturday morning, 10 AM.
“You sure you’re OK?” Danny asked, as he tied his sneakers. “I don’t have to go.”
“Would you stop? I’ll be fine,” I said. “It’s Sarah.” I felt a pain in my abdomen, like I was menstruating. It was Braxton-Hicks contractions. The first time it happened, I freaked. I called Sammie, who said, ‘it’s probably just Braxton-Hicks, but call your OB.’ I went to see Dr. Andopolis, who examined me and said my cervix looked fine. She told me that I could expect these for a while. ‘Great,’ I thought. I asked when I’d know they were for real and she smiled and said, ‘you’ll know. They’ll hurt like hell and, once they start, they don’t stop.’ She said it to make feel better. I didn’t.
Danny looked worried. “Are you OK? It’s not…”
I waddled over and kissed him. “For the tenth time, it’s a Braxton-Hicks. Fuck Braxton and fuck Hicks. Go. Nothing will happen but keep your phone on loud, OK?”
He smiled. “I will.” He would. He was good that way. “Do not push yourself. If you get tired, sit. If you’re hungry, eat. You and Sarah get together and you lose all sense…”
I laughed. “Who’s 14? Me or her?”
“I just want to make sure you and Thump are OK.” He leaned down to my belly, lifted my t shirt and kissed my belly. Then he said, “Take good care of mommy, Thump.” He paused. “No kick,” he said, with a frown. “Try and get some rest today. We have dinner with Larry and Meeka today.” Larry had a new girlfriend. We had gone out with them once. She was perfectly nice but I felt like she was staying a safe distance from me, like if she came closer, she’d get pregnant.
“I know. Go have fun. Say hi to the guys for me. Love you.” He said, ‘I love you too’ and left. As the door closed, I thought for a second about how it used to be. How I always assumed that it would be me going with the guys while Jess was pregnant. Then, I thought about it. I didn’t miss it at all. I liked being pregnant (overall). I liked being a woman. I liked being me.
I went into the bedroom and looked in my closet. I thought about pants and a sweater, but decided to go with my blue and white dress. It was a v neck, which meant that guys were forever staring at my cleavage which was, to be fair, visible from space. I shimmied my tights up my legs and then pulled the dress over my head and belly. I brushed my hair and put on my makeup. I went over to the full length mirror and checked myself out. “We look good, Thump. It’s all you, sweetie.” Yeah, I was nauseating. And I didn’t care.
An hour later, Sarah and Jill came. “Ohmigod, look at you, Jess. You look gorgeous,” Jill said.
“I look like a parade float,” I said, giving them kisses. “Hey, Sarah. That outfit is really cute. Is that from when we went to the place in Brooklyn?”
She was wearing a black skirt and blue top, with boots. She smiled, “The top and the boots are. I bought the skirt with Em at the Westchester,” a mall in, well, Westchester.
“It is really great. You look great.” I went to ask her about Emily’s crush, and stopped myself. She had told me on the phone how Emily had a crush on a ninth grader, Charlie, who told someone that he might be interested. I almost said something and realized that Jill was there. Sarah would have said nothing and then given me a headache about it later. “So, what are you up to today, Jill?”
She smiled. “You mean I’m not coming with?” Sarah looked at me in abject horror. Jill laughed. “I’m kidding Sarah. I told you already I’m meeting Hannah for lunch. Relax.” She turned to her. “I’m trusting you to make sure Aunt Jess doesn’t push herself.”
“Jesus, Jill. You and your brother.” I took Sarah’s arm in my mine. “I will be fine. We will be fine. Go. Say hi to Hannah for me,” I said, giving her a kiss. “Now shoo. We have stuff to do.” Jill left and Sarah stood there.
“So, what do you want to do today?”
Sarah looked scared. “Are you OK?”
“What?”
“Are you OK,” she said, fidgeting with her feet, the way Jess used to. “I mean are we OK going?”
“Yes, Sarah. We are totally fine. Your mom and Danny are just overprotective.”
“You promise?”
I exhaled loudly. “Yes, Sarah. I promise. If I get tired, I will let you know.” I smiled, “Don’t be like them,” which made her smile. “So what do you want to do today?”
To my complete lack of surprise, she said, “can we go walk around Soho?”
“Of course, Sarah. Can I tell you how happy I am that you’re here?”
“Ick,” she said, smiling. “Don’t get all gross on me.” I felt better. She wanted to be here.
We walked along the streets in Soho, looking in the windows. We went past one store and I saw a gorgeous black slip dress in the window. I tried to imagine myself in it, in a pair of 4” heels and couldn’t. I must have sighed because Sarah said, “are you OK?”
“It’s nothing,” I said, looking at the dress.
“That’s a really pretty dress. You’d look great in it.”
I smiled at her. “Thanks, Sarah. Not any time soon.”
“You can do it, Aunt Jess. You did it before. You’ll do it again.” Her cheerleading made me feel better, loved. She mimicked me in Miami. “Remember, my parents were bananas,” she said, moving her hand around.
I giggled. “Yeah, yeah. Thanks Sarah.”
“I’m serious. I’ll babysit so you can work out.”
I went to give her a kiss and stopped, so she wouldn’t be embarrassed in front of people she didn’t know. I gave her hug instead, which was acceptably embarrassing. “Thanks Sarah. I appreciate that.”
“I mean it.”
I smiled. “I know you do. Thank you.” I looked at the dress and thought that, if nothing else, I had support. I still wanted the dress though. “So what’s up with Em and Charlie?”
She rolled her eyes. “She’s being ridiculous. I told her what you said.” I said that she should lay back, let him come to her. Even like this, I remembered what it was like to be a 15 year old boy, how you only wanted the girls that ignored you. And how they only wanted the guys who ignored them. “And she still keeps going over to him and touching his arm and everything. She’s stupid.”
I smiled at her indignation. She loved her friend and I think she was afraid that she’d lose her. I remembered how Laura and her friends were like electrons, forever drawn together until a new guy came on the scene to draw one of them away. “I get it.”
“Oh, can we go to that store next to the Strand?”
“Forbidden Planet?” It was a comic-book and sci-fi store. I couldn’t imagine why she wanted to go. “Sure. Why?”
“You can’t tell mom.”
I smiled. “Why can’t I tell mom?”
“Promise you won’t,” she said, putting her hands on her hips, which only made it funnier.
I stifled a giggle. “I promise. Who is he?”
She looked down and blushed. “I could like that stuff.”
“Sure you could,” I teased. “But you don’t. Who is he?”
“His name is Sam. He’s in the tenth grade….”
“Oooh, an older man.”
“I’m sorry I said anything. I could get this from mom.”
“Ouch,” I said. “Point taken. You don’t have to be mean about it,” I joked, which got a smile. “Anyway, sorry. So tell me about Sam.” Sam was a tenth grader. He was into comics, graphic novels and anime and Sarah, like girls from time immemorial, wanted to learn about what he liked. I remembered Lindsay Steinmetz, a girl in eighth grade, who started liking the Knicks because my friend Mike did. It didn’t work. He thought she was fat. I looked at my belly and felt sudden empathy for Lindsay.
We went to Forbidden Planet and she looked around. Her expression was somewhere between confusion and disgust. She picked up an anime book and started flipping through. “Ick,” she said, putting the book back onto the shelves with two fingers. “Why is he into this? The girls are gross looking.”
I shrugged. Even before, I was never into comic books. “Guys. I imagine he’d feel the same way in Forever 21.”
“Whatever.” She was a little better with the graphic novels, at least the ones that weren’t filled with women with big tits and skimpy outfits. “Which ones do you think he’s into?” I thought, ‘probably the ones with big tits and skimpy outfits.’ We bought the newest most popular ones and walked to lunch.
“Just play it cool,” I said. “Like, when it’s totally organic, say, ‘oh, did you read the new American Gods? And then talk about it. But, don’t go up to him and say, ‘I got the new American Gods.’”
“I know, Aunt Jess,” she said, in an exasperated tone. I hoped that she did. I felt a Braxton-Hicks and leaned against a wall. She looked nervous. “Are you OK? Should I call mom?”
“I’m fine, Sarah. It’s totally normal. It’s false labor.” She didn’t look placated. “I went to the doctor. She told me it was fine. OK?”
“I’m just worried for you,” she said. “You’re my favorite aunt.”
I gave her a kiss on the cheek, embarrassment be damned. “Thank you Sarah.”
“Are you scared?”
“About what?”
“The baby. Having the baby. They showed us movies in health. It looks scary.”
I took her hand and we walked. “It is. Remember that.”
This was a running joke between us. She used to ask me what it felt like. I told her, ‘nothing you need to know about until after grad school.’ “Yeah yeah yeah. I’m serious. Are you scared?”
I was scared. I was scared that something would happen, that I would lose the baby. I was scared that would something would go wrong in labor. I was scared that the baby would have issues. And that I wouldn’t be a good mom. “Kinda. But I don’t have much of a choice.”
“It’ll be OK,” she said. “I can’t wait for my cousin.”
I smiled. “They can’t wait for you either Sarah.” I smiled, touching my belly. Whatever else happened, this child would be loved.
---------------------------------------------------
Week 37 - Thumper was as big as romaine lettuce.
3 AM, I woke up. I had to pee. If you needed a 3 AM wake up call, you could depend on me. I was up every morning now at 3 AM to pee. I scooched to the side of the bed, dropped my legs to the floor as quietly as I could - no need to wake Danny too - and waddled off to the bathroom. I closed the door and turned on the light, dimming it as low as I could and sat down to pee.
I looked at my stomach, which now dwarfed my feet and was lined with stretch marks. I had gained twenty-nine pounds, which scared me. I knew a lot of it was baby weight but I was afraid I’d never lose it. Danny said that he would do whatever I needed to help me - let me go to the gym, hire a trainer, whatever - but I noticed, when I went out, that you saw a lot more moms and couples pushing infants in a stroller than you saw dads alone. I looked at my belly button, which had popped a few weeks ago. If the bun was in the oven, the timer was popping. I rubbed my belly and started singing, in a low voice, ‘hey, little baby, I’m your mommy. I’m your mommy. I’m your mommy. Hey, little baby, I’m your mommy and I. Love. You.’ I had no idea where the tune came from or the words, but I knew that I was the mommy and I loved this baby. I had an all-consuming love. A pure, all consuming, almost scary love. I wiped myself and looked at myself in the mirror. My eyes had bags beneath them. My hair was a mess and I was wearing an old t shirt, the nighties having been switched for comfort a long time ago. People had switched from ‘you look beautiful’ to ‘how are you holding up’ a while ago. I rubbed my belly and waddled back to bed. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw the light leaking under the bedroom door from the living room. I came out to see Danny sitting on the couch, staring ahead.
“Hey,” I said, standing in the doorway. “What’s up?”
He looked at me, his eyes red. “Did I wake you?”
“No, of course not. I had to pee.” This was normal. The baby had dropped down in my pelvis. Dr. Andopolis told me last week that, ‘this little one is getting ready to say hello.’ I laughed and told her, ‘this little one is like a bowling ball. A men’s ball. I think it’s going to say ‘AMF’ on it.’ “What’s up?” I said, sitting down on the couch next to him. I leaned my head on his shoulder. He started twirling my hair around his fingers. I remembered how he used to do that, when he was me. It seemed strange to see my husband do it now.
“It’s...I….” and his voice started to crack.
I put my hand on his and started rubbing. “What? Danny. What? What’s wrong?”
“I...I just feel like..I feel like...I’m missing something and I should be the one who...and….”
“What do you mean missing something?”
“I mean, I don’t know. Lately, I’ve been thinking about everything. How did we get here? Why did this happen?”
I shrugged. “I don’t know. It did. Are you sorry it happened?”
He said, “No. Of course not. You are beautiful and smart and I know this is right…”
“I mean, after nine months, if you took labor, it would only be fair,” I tried to joke.
He sort of smiled. “Funny. I mean I don’t know why, but like two weeks ago, I started thinking about it. A lot. Like I’m missing something I wasn’t supposed to miss.” He kept twirling my hair around his finger. Twirling and un-twirling it.
“Danny. You’re not missing anything. This is our baby. You and me. 50/50. You’ve been here through everything. You’re going to be in the delivery room. You won’t miss anything. If you want, I’ll kick you in the nuts to simulate the pain. Michelle and Sammie will too, if that will help.”
He rubbed his eyes. “I’m serious. You’re giving this baby life, as stupid as it sounds.” I wanted to say that I didn’t think it was stupid, but the most amazing thing I could imagine. But that would have hurt him more. “And I’m not. And for 33 years, I was supposed to. And now I’m not.”
I smiled. “Maybe for 33 years, you weren’t. Maybe I was supposed to and maybe that’s why this happened.” I had never articulated that. “Maybe this was the right way and it just took a little while to get there. Are you not happy as you? Is that what this is about?”
“I’m happy,” he said in a flat tone.
“Happy as us or happy as Dan?” It had been a long time since we had spoken about it. We were just Danny and Jessa. Us. “There’s no right or wrong answer here. Seriously.”
“I’m happy with us and with me. I guess it’s just scaring me. I keep waiting…”
“For the other shoe to drop?”
He smiled. “Yeah. I don’t know. I’m just scared. This,” and he rubbed my belly, “is coming soon. We’ve said we’re mommy and daddy but we’re going to be it. Mommy and daddy. You and me and baby makes three and I guess it’s been hitting me. I’m going to be someone’s daddy and I never thought that it would happen.”
I smiled. “And I’m going to be someone’s mommy. Wasn’t exactly on my radar either, you know.”
“I know. But I guess I never thought about it. You’ve had nine months to get used to it, to being a mommy. Me, it’s binary. One day, I won’t be daddy. Then, the next day, I will be. I guess it hit me.”
“Are you sorry it’s me?” I said. “And I’m asking, not fishing.”
He smiled, kissed me and then kissed my belly. But then he paused for a minute. “No. This is right. You were meant to be the mommy, not me” which made me stop for a second. I was back to where we started. Did she always think of me like that? I started to breathe heavily, to freak out. Intellectually, I knew how ridiculous it was. I was a woman, a pregnant woman. I liked being a pregnant woman - mostly. I was ready to be a mother, to be a mommy, but to hear it articulated from Danny hurt.
“Jessa?” he said. I waved my hand in his face, to say ‘stop’. “Jessa? Are you OK?” He stood up and I laid down on my side. “Are you OK? Please. Please. Please say something. Anything.”
I took one last deep breath and sat my Weeble self up. “I’m fine, Danny.”
“I am such piece of shit,” he said. “I am such an absolute piece of shit,” and he started hitting himself with a pillow.
“No you aren’t.” He was, sort of. You don’t do that to a woman in her last month.
“You freaked out because I said you were meant to be the mommy.” I looked down and he said, “don’t lie.”
I decided not to lie. “You’re right. It freaked me out. Maybe it’s stupid after all this, but it did. Like it makes me wonder about everything all over again.”
“Me too,” he said, rubbing tears from his eyes.
That was not what I expected. I expected him to validate me, to tell me it wasn’t about that. “Huh? What do you mean?”
He leaned back and said, “Lean back into my arms.” I did and he put his arms around me, well as much as he could, resting his hands on my belly. “Like I said, I’ve been thinking about it. A lot. I look at pregnant women and I think, ‘why?’”
I looked back up at him, smiled and said, “When a man loves a woman….”
He didn’t laugh. “That’s not what I meant. I meant that I wonder why this happened. Did I make this happen?”
I rested my hands on my belly; it soothed me. “How could you have made this happen?”
“I mean, like was there something wrong with me as a woman that made this happen? Like the universe made this happen because I was, I don’t know, defective or something as a woman.”
I put my hands on his thighs and pushed myself up. I turned and looked at him. “You were not defective as a woman. You were great as a woman. Why would you think you were defective?”
He looked at my stomach, then nervously looked me in the eye. “I didn’t like babies the way you did. I don’t get along with the Barbies the way you do. I wasn’t pretty and sweet…”
“Don’t say it.” I could feel myself getting short of breath again. I paused, hands on belly and took a deep breath. “You were absolutely beautiful. Who am I? I’m you.”
“You’re me better,” he mumbled.
“I’m me different. Not better. Different. You were beautiful and caring and you were everything that I wanted in a woman. If you were defective, what did that make me? Huh? Was I defective because I chose you?” I forced myself to smile. “Think about the answer first.”
“You weren’t defective. I was,” and he started to cry. I maneuvered myself to hold him. “I was defective. I couldn’t do all the woman stuff that I was supposed to and this happened. Whatever it is that did this knew that I was defective and it made me this….”
I said, “so men are defective? You’re being punished by being a man?” I stopped and looked at swollen ankles, which were now indistinguishable from my calves. I shifted myself to minimize my back pain and thought about everything at work. ‘If you’re being punished, Danny, I could go for some of that punishment.’ “Are you unhappy the way you are?”
“I am, I guess…” he sniffled.
“So, is it me who’s being punished? Was I not good at being a man? Was I defective as a man?”
“No,” he sniffled. “You aren’t. You’re perfect the way you are, the way you were.”
I laughed. “I have that on tape now,” and then I pushed him off my shoulder and looked into his eyes. “So are you. We’re both perfect the way we are. Or perfectly imperfect,” which got a smile. “I have no idea how this happened. But I know we’re not being punished. I mean, don’t get me wrong. I’m scared shitless about everything.”
“Me too,” he said, with a smile.
“Good. It means you’re paying attention. But I know this isn’t punishment, although you’re welcome to labor, if you want. Lamaze class scared me.” It had. We called it ‘everything that can go wrong’ class. He laughed and I continued, “we are who we are. You were the best woman I knew” and we both looked at each other and then at my belly and smiled. “And you’re the best man I know.” He gave me a small smile and said, ‘thanks.’ “And you are going to be the best daddy I know, because I’m going to make you be. Got it?”
He smiled, “Got it.” He leaned back again and I leaned back, his arms around me again. “When I said that you were meant to be the mommy, I meant it. I hear you singing to it, talking to it and I know that this is the way it’s supposed to be. I never thought you weren’t a man before y’know all this. I guess I was just feeling selfish. Like I was missing out on something I wasn’t supposed to miss.”
“You weren’t selfish. You were scared. I’m scared too.”
“Still, sorry,” he said, with a smile. “We’re going to be OK, right?”
I smiled. “I hope so.” He looked concerned. “We’ll probably fuck it up. ‘They fuck you up, your mom and dad, they don’t mean to, but they do. They give you all the shit they had and add some special just for you.’ Philip Larkin,” I said.
He had no idea who Philip Larkin was, but it didn’t matter. It made him laugh, which was the goal. “Hopefully, we fuck up differently than they did,” he said.
I laughed. “That’s the goal. Give Thump new and different issues. Are you OK?” He nodded. “For real, are you OK?”
He smiled and I knew it was real. “Yeah. I am. We’re almost there,” he said. “You and me. Parents. Mommy and daddy,” and he kissed the back of my neck.
“Mmm hmmm. Mommy and daddy.” Suddenly, a picture of me breastfeeding our baby came into my mind. Me on the couch, while Danny watched. I pictured myself smiling beatifically. I knew the reality was more Sammie looking miserable while she tried to get Charlotte to latch on at 3 AM, the glow of a rerun of ‘Friends’ lighting her face, but I wanted my fantasy for now. I had had enough reality lately.
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Week 39 - Thumper was a pumpkin. A big pumpkin. A big pumpkin that was sitting so low on my pelvis that it hurt to sit. And stand. And that gave me sharp stabbing pains - lightning crotch they called it. Whatever they called, it hurt.
Robin and I were going to lunch. I was wearing black stretch pants and a shirt that could charitably called a dress shirt. Basically, I went with the bare minimum that could pass for work clothes. No one said anything, but I felt like everyone was staring at me.
I was meeting Robin for lunch, but first I had to pee. I always had to pee. I went into the bathroom. Victoria came in after me. “Hey, Jess. How are you feeling?”
“Pregnant,” I joked. “Very pregnant.”
“How much more?” she asked, with a smile.
“I’m 39 weeks.” I looked down at my belly. “Any day now, kiddo.” Thankfully, she spared me her labor story.
I went into the stall and sat down. As I peed, I felt something drop out. I wiped myself and stood up. “Oh fuck,” I said.
From the next stall, Victoria said, “Are you OK?”
“Can I ask you something Victoria? I apologize in advance.”
I heard her stand up and the toilet flush. She knocked on the stall door and I opened it. I had no choice. She looked down at the bowl and said, “You lost your mucus plug.” I started to hyperventilate. She put her arm around and led me to a bench. “Calm down. You’re going to be OK. I lost mine at my mother-in-law’s. Think about that,” she said. “I had to say something to Mark in front of her.”
“Should I go to the hospital?” I had read the books and websites. Intellectually, I knew that losing your plug didn’t mean you were in labor. That it could be another week, at least. And, saying that, all intellectuality went out the window. And left me with, “should I go to the hospital?”
She laughed. “Don’t go on a long car trip, but you should be OK.”
“Sorry. I must sound like an idiot.”
“You sound like you're having your first kid,” she said. “Don’t worry about it. Keep me in the loop.”
I walked over to Robin’s office. She looked at me and said, “is everything OK?”
I debated not saying anything. Robin didn’t have kids and didn’t want them. On the other hand, she was always interested in me, in my pregnancy. She asked detailed questions about it, about my doctor’s appointments. On the other, other hand, it was gross. On the third other hand, she was my friend. “It’s gross…”
“Lost your mucus plug?”
“How did you know?”
“I have a uterus, Jess. I may not be using it for storage, but I have one.”
I laughed, grateful for her crassness. “That’s an image. Maybe after I give birth, I’ll store old clothes up there. It’s big enough.”
“Are you OK?”
“Victoria said it doesn’t necessarily mean anything. And I haven’t felt anything else. But, it’s really gross. It’s like…”
She held up her hand. “Stop. We’re going to lunch. What do you want?”
I smiled, thinking of things that looked like a bloody mucus plug. “Oysters and steak tartare?”
“My sister said her placenta looked like London Broil.”
“Seriously?”
“I don’t know but I couldn’t eat meat in front of her for like a year after that.”
In the end, we went for salad. Lunch was fine and we talked about work, but the whole time, I kept looking for other signs that I was in labor. I coughed and thought it was contractions. I snissed, and thought my water broke. I had to imagine that I looked like a crazy woman.
By the end of the day, I had no other signs, so I went home. I normally took the subway but figured my luck the train would break down and I’d go into labor on the train. It was a trite sitcom plot but it sure as hell wouldn’t be my life.
I walked in the door and Danny was there. He got up and kissed me. “Hey sweetie, how was work?”
“Fine. The usual. I lost my mucus plug in the bathroom,” I said, as I walked to the bathroom to pee. For the sixth time.
He followed me in. “What?”
“I lost my mucus plug,” I said, as I wiped myself. I started to get undressed. I took my t shirt and sweats off the bed. I had gotten to the point where I would wear the same thing for a couple of days. I didn’t have it in me to be care about being stylish. I went into the bathroom again to take off my makeup. ‘Sorry, Danny,’ I thought. ‘I’m not your hot sexy wife. Not for now.’ “I’m fine. Nothing else happened.”
“What did it feel like?”
That was weird. “It plopped out. It’s nasty looking. Like…”
He smiled. “Mucus?”
I smiled, “Yup.” I sat down on the bed, my back supported by a bolster pillow. “That feels good.” Danny began massaging my feet. “You’re the best, Danny.”
“Please, Jessa. Hey, baby,” he said to my stomach. “Are you planning on coming soon?”
I felt a sharp kick. “I think he just said yes.” I started to tear up. “Holy shit. This is going to happen, isn’t it?”
Danny smiled. “Yup.”
I start to breathe shallow breaths. “Soon? Really soon?”
Danny kept smiling. “Yes, it is. I’m going to be a daddy.”
“And I’m going to be a mommy.” I started to take off my shirt and pants.
“Uh, Jessa,” he said.
I smiled. “Come spoon me,” I said. “Please.”
He took off his shirt and pants and laid next to me. I could feel his warmth against my bare skin and his hands on my belly. He kissed the back of my neck, with little butterfly kisses. I realized that our days of just laying here like this, in the early evening, were numbered and I couldn’t wait. At some point, I fell asleep until…
“Ow!” I yelled. I felt a sharp pain. I knew this wasn’t Braxton-Hicks.
“What?” Danny said, startled from his sleep.
“I think,” and I took a deep breath, “I am in labor.”
“Oh shit,” he said.
I smiled, putting on my pants and t shirt. “Oh shit? That’s the best you have?”
He fumbled around, putting back on his clothes. He smiled. “Sorry.”
“I’m teasing,” I said. “I’m going to sit on the couch, in case.” I figured one contraction was no big deal. Why I thought sitting on the couch made sense was another issue.
It wasn’t. However, the three in the next hour were. After the third, Danny said, “OK, let’s go. You’re in labor for real.”
“I’m fine.”
“I know you are,” he said, lifting me up. “You’re great. You’re beautiful. And you’re in labor.”
I won’t bore you with labor. I will simply say that it is not beautiful. It is not magical. It is painful. Horribly, horribly painful. Unfathomably painful. You’re up all night, sweating while it feels like someone is twisting a wrench around your abdomen. And you can’t eat. Or drink. You can have lollipops and ice chips. If I never see another ice chip, I’ll be fine.
After 36 hours, I was moaning, “why did I want this?” I thought how I always wondered what it would be like. Now I knew.
Danny said, “come on. You can do this, Jessa. You’re beautiful. Can I tell you how beautiful you look?”
I was pushing, hard. “Can I tell you fuck off?” He just grinned, the bastard. I could feel the sweat dripping in my eyes as I looked down at my hospital gown, my legs spread wide in the stirrups. I was not beautiful, not by a long shot.
“Come on, Jessica,” Dr. Andopolis said. “I see the baby crowning. You can do it. One more big push.” I summoned every ounce of strength I had and pushed. “Here it comes. I have the head.” I looked down and saw my baby’s head and started to cry. “Come on Jessica, we’re almost there. You can do it.” I pushed again. “Here it comes. Here it comes. Here he is.”
I started to cry. “He?”
Danny teared up. “He. We have a boy. A son.” He kissed me.
“A son?”
Dr. Andopolis said, “Ten fingers, ten toes, one penis. It’s a boy,” she said, as she suctioned out his mouth. He let out a cry. My son. They cleaned him up and put him on my chest. “I think he wants his mommy,” the nurse said.
“Hey,” I said. “Hey, Zach.” It just popped into my head.
Danny smiled. “Zach? Not Harris or Ian?”
I smiled, looking down at his little body, at his ten perfect little toes and fingers. At his little legs and arms. And at his perfect little face, his eyes barely open. “Nope. He’s a Zach, Zachary. What do you think?” I said, as I put my finger on his hand and it opened slightly. “He likes it.”
Danny came over and kissed me again, then the baby. “Zachary Silverman. I like it. Hi, Zach, I’m daddy.” The nurse took the baby and cleaned, weighed and measured him. At 8:30 AM on Saturday March 17, 2018 at Cornell Hospital, a baby boy was born. He was eight pounds, nine ounces, 21 inches long and he was perfect.
We went to the recovery room and I pulled down my gown and put my baby to my breast. It took him a couple of seconds but he latched on. Danny and I sat transfixed, watching him suckle. I was feeding my baby, giving him life. I had fed him for nine months, but now I could watch him. I looked over at Danny, who was tearing up. “Are you OK?”
He smiled. “I’ve never been more OK. You’re mommy. No ifs, ands or buts. If I ever wondered if this was right, this is right.”
I smiled. “I’m mommy.” I didn’t have time to think about what it meant. I was mommy. I was Zach’s mommy. I had a little boy. I was a mother of a little boy. “You’re daddy. Are you ready?”
He smiled. “Nope. You?”
I laughed and saw Zach’s little body move up and down. “Not at all. But I know that there’s no one I’d rather be totally unprepared with but you.”
He kissed me on the lips and we watched Zach. Poor kid. He had no idea what he was in for.
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Epilogue
One month later -
I was walking Zach to his weekly pediatrician visit. It was about 75 degrees and sunny and I was grateful to be walking the ten blocks. Basically, these visits forced me out of the apartment and I needed it.
I spent way too much time in the apartment since he was born. For the first ten days after we came home from the hospital, we had a nurse. It was Evelyn’s present to me (‘you’ll have plenty of time to take care of him yourself, Jessica. Don’t be ridiculous.’ It was one of the few things about which she and my mother were in complete agreement). After the first few days, Danny went back to work. When the nurse left, it was just me and Zach. My mother came over once a week but it was a lot to drive in every day. That and her parking in a lot would have killed my father. Sammie came over a couple of weekends, but it wasn’t easy coming from Brooklyn with a rambunctious toddler. Don’t get me wrong. I loved Charlotte. She was a sweet little girl. I was ‘JeJe’ and Zach was ‘baby,’ said with emphasis. She would come over and stare at Zach. I would say ‘make nice,’ and, if we were in luck, she would pet him. If we weren’t as lucky, she’d put her hand on him and press him like she was ironing out wrinkles. Then, she would climb on my furniture and open cabinets, while Sammie or Jon chased her. Still, I appreciated the company.
Zach was waking up every two to three hours and I hadn’t started expressing yet. It was stupid, but I wanted to be the only one to feed him. I had given him life for nine months and I wasn’t ready to give that up yet. Plus, I had read that this would strengthen our bond. If I thought about it, it was strange. I’m going to bond you to me by being the only one who feeds you. Then I thought it worked for my mother and generations of mothers, so who was I to question it? After the first week and a half, when I’d hear Zach cry, I’d look over at Danny, who would halfway stir and fall back asleep. And I wanted to kill him and then kick myself for not expressing. Then, I’d get up and trudge into the living room and look at my squalling baby. And I’d melt. ‘Hey, Zachy, mommy’s here,’ and I’d pick him up. The downside to this was that I had no energy. I’d try to go out once a day, but a lot of time I could barely get myself up and get Zach ready.
We went to the pediatrician and everything was great. He was 9 pounds 9 ounces and he was in the ninetieth percentile for height and weight. My big, strong boy. It was ridiculous, the way we waited to see what percentile he was in, like it was a test. From what I could tell, babies in New York were either tenth percentile or ninetieth. While I wasn’t a statistician, I knew the majority had to be in the middle of the curve. I wondered where these kids were - somewhere in the Midwest?
We finished at the doctor’s and I looked down at Zach in the carriage. “Whaddya say, Zachy? Treat mommy to Starbucks?” He gave me what I decided was a smile and we walked back home. I looked down at myself, with my barely combed hair, in my glasses, big t shirt stained with spit up and pee and my yoga pants and laughed a little at how I got here. I couldn’t, wouldn’t shower unless someone was there to watch Zach. It was ridiculous. He wasn’t getting into any trouble and I could take the baby monitor into the shower. But I couldn’t do it. I was too worried. So, I’d spend my days looking like hell and, if I had the energy, shower when Danny came home. A lot of days, I didn’t even have that. Danny would kiss me and tell me I looked beautiful. I think he felt guilty, but I’d take it.
We lived in a mixed use neighborhood, so our Starbucks had as many office workers as residents using it. I went to the counter and ordered a ‘non-fat vanilla skim latte.’ I wanted a mochaccino and a cake pop but was trying to lose the baby weight. At least, it was caffeine, sweet caffeine. I lost 12 pounds just after he was born, between the baby and the placenta and all, and had lost another 5 since then. I wanted to lose another fourteen, and get back to where I was. As promised, Laura brought over the jog stroller after the bris, but most days, I was too tired to move, much less go for a run. Every day, the stroller stood in the corner, taunting me. This weekend, I decided, I would do it. I’d put Zach in it and we’d go for a run. Of course, I said that last weekend. But this weekend, I meant it. I needed to lose the weight before I went back to work.
I got my coffee and went to sit outside for as long as Zach would let me. I sipped my drink with one hand and gently rocked the carriage with the other. It was 2 in the afternoon, so there was a gaggle of 20-something girls there, all in their cute spring dresses in their 3” heels with their perfect breasts and legs and asses. I wanted to kill them. It didn’t help that nursing had brought me to an H cup. I’d look at myself in the mirror and think, ‘I look like a stripper. I have big fake-looking stripper tits,’ and start to cry. I tried to cover them as much as possible, but you couldn’t miss them. They were huge. At least, Danny was smart. When Sammie was nursing, Jon took one of her bras and put it on his head to show how big the cup was. He meant it as a joke. I learned that you could choke a man with just a bra and his own tongue.
They were sitting at a table over and started giggling. I was sure that they were laughing about something at work or something some guy said, but sleep deprivation and a lack of continuous adult contact had made me a little (OK, a lot) crazy.
All of a sudden, I felt someone behind me. “Fuck them,” the voice said. “Fuck them and their perfect asses.”
I turned around to see an Asian woman with a carriage. She was dressed like me, with the same disheveled hair and tired eyes. “Tell me about it,” I said, with a smile. “Jessica Silverman,” I patted the chair next to mine.
“Sabrina Chen,” she said, with a smile. “Look at them. Look at them looking at us.”
I looked over at them. “Hey girls, fuck you,” which got a laugh. I looked in her carriage, and saw a little blob, bundled in pink. “She’s beautiful. How old?”
“Jade Alexandra just turned eighteen days,” she said, cooing. It was funny. If people asked, you gave the full name and you counted in days, then weeks, then months. I wondered if my mother would say, ‘Jessica Renee just turned 422 months!’ She looked over at Zach “And how old is this handsome boy?”
“Zachary Seth just turned one month yesterday. We just had his checkup and he is perfect,” I cooed and he gurgled. I imagine, to a passerby, we sounded like idiots and I didn’t care. I was mommy and this was the way mommy spoke to her baby. I just had to break the habit around adults. So far, it had just been family and friends. Sammie would just shake her head and smile, saying, ‘I am totally dropping the ball compared to you, Jess.’ My parents didn’t care. They weren’t listening to me at all, just fighting over Zach.
Just then, Zach started to cry, his hungry cry. I looked at Sabrina and said, “Do you mind?” I didn’t have to specify what.
She laughed and said, “Go for it.” Then, she looked over at the girls and said, with a mean laugh, ‘“That’s right, girls. Get a good look. This is your future.” And, for a little while, I felt less alone.
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Six months - I had been back to work for three months already.
From the bedroom, I could hear Celia, the nanny, playing with, and singing to, Zach. She was from St. Kitts and was the friend of Sammie’s nanny.
I came out of the bedroom and said, “Hey Zachy!” He gave me a big smile, with the three teeth he had just begun cutting. I turned to Celia and said, “so what are you guys doing today?”
She said, “we are going to see Zach’s friend Jordan today.” His friend. Every time she said that, I had to laugh. He was six months old. You’d put him with another infant and they’d stare at each other. Basically, his ‘friends’ were the children for whom Celia’s friends cared. As a result, all of his friends had, as Sammie had told me would happen, ‘nannies from St. Kitts. Maybe one of the other islands, if that. But, St. Kitts.’ Sebastian’s nanny was from Poland and, as a result, we basically had to force the two nannies to get together. Michelle wanted to hire a friend of Celia’s, but Amanda said she, ‘felt guilty having a woman of color working for them.’ So, they went Polish. On a day off, I had gone to the park and observed. The island nannies’ kids played with each other, and only each other. The Indian nannies’ kids played with each other and only each other. The Polish nannies’ kids were the same. And none of them played with the kids whose moms stayed at home. When I pointed this out to my mother, she shrugged and said, ‘why do you think you were friends with Ashley and Allie? I liked their moms.’
“That sounds great,” I said. “Have a good time.” I leaned down and gave him a kiss. “Mommy loves you Zach. Be a good boy,” and I headed out the door.
“Wait,” Celia said, handing me a bag. “You almost forgot your pump.” I picked it up and was surprised she said anything, to be honest. We had begun food a couple of months ago - cereal, then fruit - and I think she couldn’t understand why we were still giving him the bottle. I went back and forth. He was eating up a storm but the books said it was good to keep breastfeeding for a while longer. Plus, I liked the closeness - most of the time. We had a pediatrician appointment soon. I’d ask Dr. Berlin what she thought.
When I got to the office, I did my morning ritual. I’d get my coffee, go to my office and kiss my fingers and touch the picture of Danny and Zach at the swings in the park. ‘Good morning, my guys,” I’d say and then go to work.
I was buried in work, with barely time to go downstairs, get a salad and eat at my desk. Around 4, the alarm on my phone went off and I closed my office door, so that I could pump. When I came back, they sent around a memo saying that, if my office door was closed, everyone had to knock, no exceptions. The women in the firm knew why, and the moms, those who had had kids while they were here, would smile. The younger men knew not to say anything. It was the older men, the ones who made the decisions, who worried me. One of the senior people, Jerry, had knocked on my door. When I said, ‘give me fifteen minutes,’ he said, in a tone somewhere between mortified and disgusted, ‘oh yeah, that’s right. Come find me.’ They all had kids but, like sausage or a vacation at a resort, didn’t want to know how things got done.
I attached the pump to both breasts (I had done a double pump, so as to take as little time as possible), and watched it suction my nipples. The first couple of times, I was transfixed, like watching two invisible hands milk me roughly. Now, I hardly noticed and went out about my work. I had, as Evelyn had predicted, become much better at multitasking. After 15 minutes, I’d disconnect and put the milk in the mini-fridge in my office. I didn’t need to buy it. I could’ve stored it in the office fridge but decided $150 was money well spent not to call attention to it too much. I didn’t need the smirks of the junior guys and the disgust of the senior people.
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Ten months - Saturday morning
“Baaaaaaaaaaaaaah,” I heard, from the living room. Zach had started babbling. He and I would have whole conversations. He’d speak gibberish and I’d say, ‘is that so? Well, I disagree. I think you would be better off investing in index funds,’ or ‘I don’t get why everyone likes ‘Game of Thrones’ so much either.’ He was learning to talk, he may as well learn correctly, I figured.
I looked at the clock - 5:49 AM. “Fuuuuck,” I said, moving one leg off the bed, in preparation to get up.
Danny said, “Relax. I’ve got this. Go back to sleep.”
“You sure?” I don’t why I asked. He was offering. Why was I giving him an out?
“Yes,” he said, kissing me. “I’ve got this. Go back to sleep.”
I listened as he walked into the living room. “Hey, monkey,” he said. “What’s up? Decided to see the sun rise?” I fell back asleep, quickly.
I woke up and looked at the clock - 8:45. ‘Shit,’ I thought. ‘I should relieve Dan.’ From the living room, I heard Danny singing. ‘Ah ah baby. Zachy is a super boy. And mommy loves you. And daddy loves you. And grandma Barbara loves you. And grandpa Dave, he really loves you, even more than he loves mommy, which is saying a lot,’ which made me smile. And he continued through the list, naming his parents and our siblings ‘and cousin Sarah really loves you. And Yoni loves you, although he wouldn’t say that out loud. And Tucker, well, he loves you even if he doesn’t always show that.’ I heard him blow on Zach’s belly which made him laugh.
I came out in my t shirt and sweats, and saw them on the floor, Zach in Danny’s lap with a book open. “How are the two loves of my life?” I gave each of them a kiss. “Did daddy behave himself, Zachy?”
Danny smiled, “we are doing great. We are reading about...surprise, surprise, trucks.” Zach was all boy. We had truck pajamas. We had books about trucks. He would bounce up and down in his stroller if we saw any kind of truck.
“Thanks for letting me sleep.”
“Please,” Danny said. “We had a great time. We ate breakfast. Oatmeal and strained pears. Then we went out…”
“Did you put on his snowsuit?”
“No, he went naked, but I wore a snowsuit. Yes,” Danny said, rolling his eyes. “I put on his snowsuit and then we went for a walk. We went to the dog run, where we saw the big doggies. Right, Zach?” And then he barked. “And then we went by the construction site on 59th.” A client of the firm’s was building a 50-story residential tower to the virulent protests of the neighborhood, who said, ‘it would block out sun to the playground.’ That was fun litigation. I got to be on the side of blocking light to children. Then Danny continued, “and we saw the crane, which lifts,” and he threw Zachy into the air, “things up. And then we got bagels and Zachy flirted with the girl behind the counter.” There was a 22 year old girl behind the counter who always said, ‘hey, blue eyes’ to Zach. He looked like me, with dark hair and big blue eyes. He was about 20 pounds now, tall and solid like Danny. He was the handsomest baby, if I did say so, and a perfect combination of the two of us.
I joked, “did you get her to throw in cream cheese for free, Zachy?” Then, I kissed Danny, “thanks honey. You’re a pretty good dad, you know.”
He picked me up and twirled me. “Look at the crane, Zachy.” Then, he kissed me lightly on the lips. “Not so bad yourself.”
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12 months. Well, 12 months in a week.
Mike had called me into his office. He hadn’t said why.
“Hey, Mike. What’s up?” I said, leaning on his desk.
He took a deep breath. “Sit down, Jess.” He looked grim.
“Is everything OK, Mike?” I hoped there was nothing wrong with him. “Everything OK with your mom?” She was 85 and had had the flu recently. Not to be morbid, but at that age, you get nervous.
“She’s fine, thanks for asking. I don’t know how else to say this, but I wanted you to know before the email went out…” ‘Please, please, please,’ I thought. ‘Let him be screwing with me.’ “They’re announcing the new partners today.”
“And?” OK, Mike, here’s where the big smile comes in.
It didn’t. “You have to know that, if it was up to me, you’d be partner.”
I felt like I had been punched in the stomach. “But, I’m not.”
“No,” he said, looking despondent. If he was expecting me to comfort him, it wasn’t happening.
“Did anyone make it?”
“Your friend Robin, and,” and he took a deep breath, “Jeff.”
OK, Jess, do not say anything stupid here. Do not say how it’s bullshit. How you work longer hours and bring in business. And don’t spend an hour a day on your fantasy football team. Don’t say that. “Oh,” was all I said. “Can I ask why?” Is it because I have a uterus? Because I put it to use? Because I had the gall to breastfeed my child and close my office door for 15 minutes, once a day?
“The vote just didn’t go your way.”
I stared at him and willed myself not to cry or yell. That would just play into what they wanted. “Am I being fired?” Part of me hoped for it. I’d get a severance package and could move on.
He looked shocked. “Oh god, no! As long as I’m here, you will always have a job.” A job, not a career though. Not a future. I could service the partners. In six years, I could report to Jake. Yippee. “Off the record, why do you even want this?”
“Excuse me?” I was mentally keeping notes and would write them down as soon as I left. If this went south, I would be prepared.
He realized that he fucked up. “No no no. I mean you have your writing and your, whaddya call it, podcast appearances.” I had begun appearing on the Reporter’s podcast. Originally, it was because of a real estate matter, but had expanded into commentary every other week on politics.
“Is that it? Is it the politics that’s bothering them?” I thought about how Ted, the managing partner, had been a finance chairman for several candidates.
“No,” he said. “It’s just not your year.”
“Mike, I billed 2200 last year. And 2400 the year before. And brought in new business. Be honest with me. You owe me that much. If it wasn’t this year, will it ever be?”
He looked at the floor, the wall, the window. Anywhere but me. “If you want to take the rest of the day, go ahead.”
I looked him in the eye. “No, Mike, I have work to do. And regardless of this,” and I waved my hand around. “I take care of my clients. So, if you’ll excuse me, I’d like to get to work. OK?” I stood up and he said, ‘if it was up to me.’
I walked back to my office and closed the door. I didn’t cry. I didn’t scream. I looked at the picture of Zach, Danny and me, this one at the Bronx Zoo. I could say that I realized what was truly important, but I didn’t. Not at that moment. At that moment, all I could do was seethe.
I buried my head in work. At 1 PM, my Outlook popped up. ‘Fuck you,’ read the subject line. Well, it actually read, ‘Congratulations,’ but sometimes you read between the lines. I read the text, choking when it said, ‘Jeff lives in Westchester with his loving wife Tracey and their two children, Emily and Sean.’ Yup, Jeff lives with his wife. Jeff, the partner, lives with his wife. Jessica, the associate, the perpetual associate, lives with her husband. I walked out to my office to go congratulate Robin and ran into Jeff. “Hey, Jeff, congratulations.” I couldn’t say, ‘you deserve it.’ I wasn’t that big a person.
“Uh, thanks,” he said. “I appreciate it.” You could tell he wanted to say something else. Some bullshit like ‘we’re a team.’ Thankfully, he didn’t.
I walked into Robin’s office and gave her a hug and kiss. “Howdy, partner!” I was truly and unreservedly happy for her. She deserved it.
“Hey, thanks. Fucking Jeff. That’s fucking bullshit. You deserved it.”
“Thanks but stop. This is your day. Enjoy it. So, are you still going to go to lunch with me, now that you’re all important?” I needled her.
She smiled, “Stop. I mean, now you can’t eat until I finish…”
I smiled, “Until you finish, huh? What am I, Gib?”
She laughed then sighed. “Then, he’d go hungry. Seriously though...”
“Seriously, stop. I am totally happy for you. Let me take you to lunch tomorrow to celebrate.” I just couldn’t do it today.
She smiled. “If you insist.”
I walked around the office and felt like everyone was staring at me. Then, I thought, ‘snap out of it. They thought about it for 15 seconds, and most of that was to think what it meant for their own chances.’ And I went back to work. OK, I spent a couple of hours on parenting websites, on Bucky’s 5th Quarter, a Wisconsin football blog and on HuffPo, rereading my old articles. I was better than this. I could do more. So, why was I so upset?
I went home and Zach greeted me at the door, with his little push mower, the kind with the balls that popped around as he pushed. He was really starting to walk and, with his motor, could really zoom around the playground. I had lost three pounds just chasing after him. He gave me a big smile. “Hey, Zach,” I said, scooping him up and kissing him. “How did it go today, Celia?”
She was already putting on her coat. “Terrific. We saw Jordan today.” As the Passover Haggadah said, ma’nishtana? Why is this day different from all other days. “Mr. Zach and Jordan went up and down the halls at Jordan’s.”
“That’s great. He napped? Ate well?”
She came over and gave him a big hug, and he gave her a big smile. “He was terrific.” The smile he gave her bothered me. “I will see you in the morning,” she said, hugging him again. I was happy. She really seemed to care for him.
Danny came home and we ate dinner. I gave Zach his bath, watching him take his plastic tub cups and fill them up and dump them. I dried him off and then Danny put him to bed, reading ‘Mike Milligan and his Steam Shovel.’ Ellen, Dan’s boss’ wife, had bought him it when he was born and had written, ‘may it be the first of many that you share’ on the inside.
Danny came to bed. I was there reading. “So what happened today?”
“I didn’t make partner,” I said, moving towards him.
He took me in his arms. “I am so sorry. You deserved it.”
I started to cry, the tears I hadn’t cried all day. “It is so fucking unfair. It...is...not...fair. Robin made it….Jeff made it. Fucking Jeff made it,” and I bawled. Danny rubbed my back, and just said, ‘let it out, Jessa.’ I alternated crying and ranting. “This is such fucking bullshit.”
“What did Mike say?”
“I’d always have a job,” I said, through gritted teeth. “That and he asked why did I even want it?”
Danny put his hands on my shoulders and said, “why do you want it?”
“Are you fucking serious? I’ve spent ten years working towards this and you fucking ask me that? Are you fucking kidding me? What? I should stay home like fucking Tracey, is that it?”
“No, Jessa. That is not it. Not at all. And I’ll accept it only because I know you’re pissed. What I mean is, why this? Why do you want to be partner there? Didn’t you once say, ‘it’s like a pie eating contest where first prize is more pie? Why do you want more pie?”
I laughed. “I hate when you listen to me.”
“I’m serious,” he said. “Maybe this is your chance. You’ve said how much you hate your job. How you hate arguing about whether hedge fund assholes have marble and defending blocking sunlight. I know you think this is bullshit, and it is, but maybe this is a sign. What would you do if you could do anything?”
“That’s not an option,” I sniffled.
He smiled. “Why not? I’m not saying quit tomorrow, but if we make a plan and save, maybe it can be in a year, if not sooner. So what? So we won’t go on an expensive vacation? We’ll be OK. I do OK. We have savings. My parents have funded college.” Marty had made a big scene after the bris about that. My father just smiled and said, ‘that’s great. Zachary’s a lucky boy.’ “But what would you do? You can do anything. I’ve always believed that. Now, let’s do it! We’ll make a plan and we’ll do it. OK?”
I started to cry, but was smiling at the same time.
----------------------------------------------------
13 months - Zach and Dan had been at the playground for a couple of hours now.
I had been feeling under the weather lately, and Danny had offered to take him. Actually, he commanded me to relax, saying that I had been pushing myself too hard at work, ‘although god knows why.’ The litigation continued over the tower on 59th, even though ground had been broken. Part of the problem with our neighborhood was its high concentration of lawyers, retired ones to be exact. They were my worst nightmare, brains plus time. I spent more time in court fighting nuisance complaints than I had ever wanted, even though we always won. Well, the client won. I didn’t care, not the way that I used to.
I heard the door open and Zach yell, ‘mama!’ On the one hand, I loved hearing him say that, most of the time. He came staggering towards me, with a stiff-legged gait. He had begun walking at 11 and a half months. My aunt Helene told me, ‘it’s overrated, Jess. Knock him down and tie his legs together, if you have to.’ Sometimes, I regretted not listening. “Hey, guys, how was the park?”
Danny laid down on the couch, on his back with his hand over his forehead. “Tiring,” he said, with a smile. Zach toddled over and Danny laid him on his chest, Zach’s head resting near his heart. “We saw Jordan and Jade and Liam. Daddy doesn’t like Liam’s daddy.” Liam’s daddy was hyper-competitive and forever comparing the two boys, on everything including height. It galled him that Zach was taller. I used to tell him that we stretched Zach at night. “But we had fun, right Zach?” Zach responded, ‘dada,’ in an emphatic tone that we decided meant yes. “How about you? How are you feeling?”
“I think I figured out what’s bothering me,” I said, with a smile.
“What?” he said, as Zach moved to be put down. He wandered over to his toy corner (also known as my living room) and picked up blocks.
I took something out of my pocket. “This,” I said, with a smile. It was a positive pregnancy test. “I missed my last period and…” He got up off the couch, kissed me and lifted me up.
I knelt down next to Zachy. “Guess what? You are going to be a big brother…”
And nine months later, he was. To Emma Riley Silverman. 7 pounds 6 ounces and 19 ½ inches long.
At the hospital, Danny put his finger on her hand. “Hey Emma, I’m your daddy.” And with that, a love affair was born. Unlike my mother, I was happy with it.
------------------------------
Seven years later ----
“Eyes on the ball, Sebastian. Not on me. The ball. Stop looking at me. Come on. Come on.”
“Ma,” he yelled, as I blew past him for a layup. “Aunt Jess is being mean!”
Michelle looked over from the grill, where she was making lunch. We were at their weekend place in Rhode Island. “Seb, she’s not being mean. Listen to her. She’s trying to help. She’s a great player. Not as good as me, mind you....”
I made a talking motion with my hand. “Talk is cheap, Shell. Put up or shut up.”
I heard Amanda say, ‘Excuse me, Dan, but our wives are being, well, themselves. I need to take over the grill.’ Then, she said, ‘I’m not treating either of you when you pull something.’
Michelle looked at Zach and said, “OK, Zach, you and me against Seb and your mom. You’re Nkilitina and I’m Porzingis,” the Knicks’ point guard and center. “We’re winning the title, like they did.”
“Seb,” I said, in a stage whisper, “your mom can’t go to her left. Never could. Never will.” Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Danny and Amanda roll their eyes and get back to the grill.
We were playing to 21, and we were up 18-15, when Emma and Maddie, Amanda and Michelle’s seven year old daughter, came out; yes, we had our second at the same time too. Emma said, “Mommy, can I get a pink streak in my hair like Sarah?”
“What?” I said, as Zach went past me for a pull-up jump shot. ‘Hey, no fair,’ I said, to his big grin. Little wiseass. “No, you cannot. You’re seven.”
Just then, Sarah came out. She was a senior at Brown, majoring in economics and semiotics. Yoram joked, ‘the first generation works its fingers to the bone. The second gets educated and innovates. The third studies the study of studying.’ She had come down, ‘to spend time with my favorite cousins.’ “It’s fine, Aunt Jess. It’s not like mine. It totally washes out.”
I looked at her and said, “if it doesn’t, I am holding you personally responsible.”
She smiled, “Trust me. Come on girls.” And she walked off, her two acolytes following her. I trusted her. I was proud of her. She had really grown into a beautiful, confident young woman. She had avoided the eating disorders that had plagued all the women in her family. Whenever she visited, she and I would go for long runs and just talk about life. I knew when she lost her virginity to, all of people, Jordan Glick. She smiled and said, ‘it’s not small, but god it’s not good either.’
Me? Six months after Emma was born, I walked into Mike’s office and gave my notice. While I was pregnant with Emma, I wrote an article about Trump’s asinine ban on transgender military personnel. I looked at these people who had devoted their lives to protecting my family and how they were being forced out for being who they were. And I thought about all the couples who were harassed, who had to travel overseas, to live their lives and have children. And I thought about how I didn’t want to fight over pieces on an overpriced Monopoly board anymore. So, I called my friend Michael from law school, who was on the board of Lambda Legal. He hired me as a senior staff attorney on their transgender rights initiative, even as he laughed at the pay cut I happily took. My first day at work, I sat at my desk and laughed to myself about everything that brought me there.
Danny and I sat on the deck on lounge chairs, watching the sun go down and holding hands. I looked over at him, the little flecks of gray that had begun appearing at his temples and the way he still looked good, even as his body got a little thicker, and I smiled. With each passing day, the memory of Dan and Jess was fading, like an old picture in a photo album. I couldn’t even remember the last time that we had talked about it, them. They were less and less us and more like your grandparents or a favorite teacher. You remember specific events and the lessons you learned, even as you forget the day-to-day.
I took a sip of my wine and thought, ‘who am I?’ I am Jessica Renee Silverman. I am a happily married, forty-three year old mother of two wonderful children who drive me crazy sometimes. I’m ten pounds heavier than I’d like to be, and color my hair more and more. I get up every day and hope that one day I’ll be successful enough at my job to make it irrelevant. I have good friends and a family that loves me. And I wouldn’t want it any other way.