Rob’s huge, lumbering form books it across the cu-de-sac. He’s not dressed properly for the weather, since who knows what happened to his jacket in the drunken after-show sex…
He raps on the door with his knuckles, even though there’s a perfectly good doorbell.
“What’s up? You look pretty good after last night,” I say. I guess Rob doesn’t need much sleep.
“And you look like shit.” He pushes past me and smirks. Dixie and Duncan jump on his legs, looking like mice next to his bulk.
“Well, yes, I do. But I was up half the night with you assholes, drowning away my sorrows, and then I spent the wee hours thinking about how my life is falling apart, and wondering if my wife and child are ever coming home.” I snap my fingers and say, “Oh, and what were you doing? That’s right—banging the neighbor whose goal it is to ruin—”
“Okay, Betty Boo-hoo. I get it.” He reaches into his pocket and pulls out his cell phone. “I may have been banging the neighbor chick, but I have a gift for you.”
“What, you recorded it?” I laugh, but he doesn’t. Seriously? This is getting weird.
“Relax, man. Jesus, that wife of yours has made you so uptight. Then it is partially because of the ‘wife’ word. Marriage, no thanks, brother. Anyway, in the middle of entertaining Miss Diamond, we had some heart to hearts. I know, you’re thinking I don’t have a heart, but you are clearly mistaken.”
“And, your point, Mr. Sensitive?”
“I recorded Diamond confessing to the pregnancy test and the undies in the bed.”
“Holy shit, are you kidding? How the hell did you manage that?” My blood pressure must be spiking because I feel my heart in my neck.
“She was plastered and eager to get over her crush on you. She said something like—her mother taught her that the best way to get over a man is to get under another one.” He laughs and shakes his head. “I love her mom already.”
“What? You aren’t planning on seeing her again, are you?”
Rob rubs his bald head and exhales. “You bet I am. She’s hot, she can cook. Yes, she did a shitty thing to you and Claire, but you don’t know the whole story. We talked. Diamond’s had a rough life. Her dad. Her asshole ex. Mean girls from school. And your wife wasn’t exactly nice to her when she saw who was renting her house.”
I know there are two sides to every story, but it’s difficult for me to sympathize with Diamond. And I really can’t see her and Rob working out in an actual relationship. She has a child, which I wouldn’t think Rob would like.
But I can’t worry about him right now. He’s a very big boy. I need to selfishly focus on my own fucked up life. Every man for himself in these dire times.
“So, she confessed to planting both items in my bedroom? No doubt? It’s on the tape?”
He nods and grins like a big, evil mastermind. But one who’s just trying to do a good thing in a twisted way.
“That is fucking brilliant!” I would hug him but he would body slam me into the hall closet for acting like a woman.
“Yep, so I am going to send you this audio recording and you can play it for Claire. I didn’t tape any of the personal stuff. I know you think I’m a fool, but you know, I’ve done a lot worse things and I can’t judge her the same way you do. You and I come from different worlds, my friend.”
“You’re right. I have always felt a little sorry for Diamond, but she has caused tremendous trouble for us. Claire might try to evict her after she hears this.”
“Nah, I don’t think she will. I’ll keep Diamond occupied, at least for a while. She won’t bother you guys anymore. And you can make rules about the kids playing together. Claire will come around once she can pee on her own territory again. Besides, Diamond may be at shows with me. And evicting someone isn’t easy. If it was, I’d be homeless.” He punches my arm and I am proud that I didn’t fall over. Of course, I wouldn’t admit that to anyone. “We’ll all need to get along under this new…arrangement. And I am going to tell Diamond what I did after she sobers up.”
My stomach turns. I was trying to figure out how to distance Diamond from our lives, but I need to muster up some gratitude for the confession. Besides, what is that they say about keeping your enemies close? “I’m really impressed. It’s like you’re a CIA agent or something. But isn’t she going to be super pissed at you?”
“No, I think she will see the error of her ways and thank me for intervening, since the rest of you just keep fucking up. Let’s just say I know a little bit about making sure guilt is laid on the right guy. Or hot chick in this case. And about making amends for mistakes. She’ll learn a thing or two from me.” Rob has been successful at avoiding prison, despite his wild youth.
I shake his hand and thank him for the recording. My head is still pounding from my hangover, but now my heart is hammering in anticipation of calling Claire with this news. If I must, I’ll play it for her crazy mother first. But actually, no. I am driving there first thing tomorrow and playing it for Claire in person. If she listens without me present, she could still refuse to come home. Her anger at me goes beyond this incident. She doesn’t trust me, and not just with other women.
I need to talk to her about our future—the band, the baby, her job, my book. My God, when did life get so fucking complicated?
I sink into the sofa and Duncan jumps up on my lap. I search around the room for Dixie, and she suddenly comes running towards me at full speed—dragging Aidan’s pink bunny. She drops it at my feet and smacks me with her paw, as if to say, ‘Hey, Dumbass, get your shit together for your kid.’
“Once again, you are one wise wiener, Dixie. Shall we all listen to Diamond’s confession? Hopefully she isn’t slurring her speech and there are no orgasmic screams in between the declarations of guilt. Mommy won’t like that.”
Claire
“Oh, John look at the baby bump! What is it the size of now, Jackie?”
“It’s the length of a hot dog!” Jackie poses for us and arches her back, to accentuate her twenty-week baby bump.
“That’s so cute! Isn’t it John?”
“Yes, very cute.” My Dad looks away from the football game, looking determined to focus on what I am sure he thinks is silly women talk. Aidan is clapping on his lap. Brandon doesn’t watch sports, so I am counting on my father to help my son with basic knowledge. I don’t miss being with a man who follows teams and always has a game on the TV, like Ron. But I also don’t want my son to get made fun of at school.
“However, she has not been eating any hotdogs, as they’re full of nitrates. Her blood pressure is down now.” Chet sticks his head into view on the screen, just up in the corner, so he looks like a photo bombing Muppet.
He’s a small guy, even shorter and slimmer than Brandon. He wears black rimmed glasses and just enough stubble on his face to make you wonder if he’s trying to grow something or he just didn’t bother to shave.
The glasses and the clean cut haircut make him appear almost nerdy, but then the tattoo rising up onto his neck from his shoulder is in sharp contrast to his conservative button down shirt. His sleeves are rolled up to reveal sleeves of more tattoos.
“Oh, hello, Chet. I do agree about the hotdogs, but don’t tell me you have Jackie on a vegetarian diet? That’s not healthy for the baby.”
Here we go.
Chet inhales deeply and exhales slowly. Dealing with my mother has helped him improve his breathing way more than consistent yoga and meditation.
Jackie puts her hand on Chet’s arm and says, “Sweetie, can you please get me some more water?” She hands him her enormous water bottle and he grabs it, disappearing out of the frame. She shoots me a subtle, but pleading look as my mother launches into another topic before I can ask any more benign pregnancy questions, or switch to a safer topic, like work.
“Jackie, have you and Chet given any more thought to having the baby baptized?”
My father throws himself back against the couch cushion, as he is bombarded by the double w
hammy of a Giants interception and my mother asking Jackie about religion.
“Mom, I told you that Chet and I are not going to have the baby baptized. I don’t go to church and Chet’s Buddhism would make that hypocritical.”
I can’t believe I have to endure this—can’t I just wallow in my own misery in peace at my own parents’ house?
“Claire had Aidan baptized.”
“Claire is more easily controlled by—”
“Hey, don’t drag me into this. I have enough problems!”
“Ladies, stop.” Chet is back onscreen. His hands are folded, as if in Buddhist monk prayer. “This negative energy is very bad for the baby. We need to exist in peace and harmony. We are going to adhere to the Buddhist baby welcoming rituals.”
My mother’s eyes are huge and even my father seems interested now.
“What exactly are these rituals?”
“Well, we’re not going to adhere to them strictly, but a monk is going to come to the house and perform the blessing, which is very similar to a baptism in Christianity.”
“Oh.” My mother looks disappointed and bewildered, but trying to process Chet’s words and hold on to any possible recognizable religion in them.
“So have you guys got any names in mind?” I steer the discussion in a different direction. I can think of so many names for my future babies. If I don’t have a future divorce. My phone begins to vibrate on the table. It’s Brandon. Nope, not ready to talk to him. I silence the phone and wait for my sister’s cute name selections.
Chet and Jackie are looking at each other nervously, and Jackie finally nods. What the hell are they naming this kid?
Chet adjusts his glasses and continues. “In the Buddhist tradition, the monk also creates an astrological chart for the baby, which indicates what letter the name should start with. Since preparing for that in advance would require fifty-two distinct name selections, one for each gender and letter of the alphabet, we have decided to wait and see where Spirit guides us. It would be silly to do all that work, right?”
“Preposterous.” My mother’s comment is dripping with sarcasm.
“So, Chet how’s work at the homeless shelter? Your mother-in-law is getting ready to retire.” Ever the mischievous trouble maker, my father launches into the story of how my mother, who hasn’t worked for wages since she was pregnant with me, plans on collecting social security.
“Wow, that’s great, Claire. But surely, you’re going to donate the money to a charity every month. I can certainly help you identify a worthy one.”
“I’m not donating anything. That’s my money. John already donates to a bunch of charities.”
I glance back and forth between the couple in the room and the couple on the screen, and decide that talking to Brandon might be better than witnessing any more of this generational, political and religious division.
In a few minutes my mother is going to call Chet a ‘bleeding heart liberal,’ as if she were Archie Bunker. And Chet is going to come close to comparing my mother to Hitler. Or Donald Trump. I’m not sure who he hates more.
“Claire, where are you going?” Jackie eyes me nervously. “I wanted to talk about you. We’re so sorry about your situation. Call me later if you want to talk about it.” She left off, ‘away from all of these whack-jobs,’ but I got the message.
I agree to call her this evening, after Aidan goes to bed. I also need to text Didier and tell him I ate a bad shrimp or something. I could drive to the office from here, but I need another day to process everything and I’m not ready to see Justin, either. Plus the roads won’t be plowed.
With an unsettled feeling and a heavy heart, I call my husband back.
Brandon
I pump my fist in the air like a dork, but only the dogs are witnesses. Claire has agreed to see me tomorrow. I am going to her parents’ house when I can borrow Rob’s truck. The minivan is a death trap in these driving conditions. I hope this snow melts soon, but I am planning on bringing my little family home tomorrow, so it won’t matter if we’re snowed in.
I listened to the tape Rob gave me, and even though she was drunk, Diamond clearly states that she left the pregnancy test in the bathroom and put the underwear in our bed. If she had only done the latter I could say it was impulsive, but the pregnancy test was premeditated. Women don’t keep a spare pregnancy test in their purses. But maybe with Diamond’s lifestyle, it’s a ‘must have’ item.
Even though I am fuming mad, I do feel sorry for Diamond. She needs to get her shit together, at least for Ruby’s sake. And Rob is not the answer to her problem. He has no idea how to commit or offer any security to a woman. But maybe she doesn’t want that and she’s fine with being the new neighborhood floozy. Who am I to judge?
Grateful that Diamond is no longer my immediate problem, I sit at the dining room table and make a list of all of the things Claire and I need to discuss. I suck at having these conversations and I need to organize my thoughts. After all, I’m a writer, so writing things down is a good idea.
So, number one—pregnancy test/panties debacle. Check. Once she hears the confession, she’ll be pissed all over again, but I will just tell her that I was a moron and I didn’t see the signs. She’ll buy that because I know she thinks men are morons.
Then we need to discuss the book. A quick explanation of fictional characters should calm her down. The main character is not Claire. I think she’s handling the open adoption well. There, I even convinced myself that time.
Next up—the band. This is a tricky one. Max fucked that up for me by making it sound like I have a secret international tour planned, when that dope doesn’t even have his business covered yet if we have to stay out of town for a day. At least I don’t think he does.
I decide that the band thing is actually easy. A few shows a little further from home is not a big change. And if we do make it big, Claire will be right there with me in her old glittery stilettos and tube tops. We’ll get a real nanny and Claire can…
Wow, it’s easy to get off on a daydream about my big dream.
And lastly, Claire’s big dream. The whole foundation of our relationship right from the beginning was her desire to be a mother, and me offering a solution to that problem. I wanted to adopt, even though I could get some woman pregnant and have my own biological children. That was huge for Claire, and it bound her to me. We need to adopt another baby. Maybe if things go well, I can call Peter with a happy answer for Holly.
I am going to ignore the little voice in my head that reminds me that the desire to become parents is not enough of a healthy basis for a strong marriage.
I toss my pen on the table and tell the little voice to shut its yapper. We have plenty of other things in common. A mutual attraction. Don’t we?
CHAPTER TWENTY FIVE
Justin
“This weather sucks the big one. I moved here to be warmer and all I do is fucking shovel snow. I was outside this morning heaving white crap with my skinny thirteen-year-old son while my lazy ass boyfriend, the professor, was drinking his mocha latte with coeds.”
All I said to Gina was ‘good morning.’
She sighs and plops down in her desk chair, running her fingers through her long auburn hair. “So how was the trip?”
I came to her office primarily to find out if Gina knows why Claire isn’t here today, but I should have known I would be treated to a ‘Tony tirade.’ Claire coined that term in reference to Gina’s on again, off again relationship with the art professor.
“It was good. I signed a software supplier. I think Claire has some good leads on new authors, and she made contacts with agents.” And she got a job offer. Shh…
Gina is searching frantically on her desk, shoving manuscripts and other paper all over her desk. “Where the hell are the revisions on that new romantic suspense novel? All this paper is such a pain in the ass. This one author likes her line edits done on paper…now who’s calling me? Oh sure, Tony calls now after I almost lost a finger to frostb
ite…”
I suppress a smile and say. “Maybe I should come back when you’re less…”
“Insane, right?” She relaxes into a grin. “Not gonna happen, Kid. So obviously you’re here to find out what’s going on with Claire, right? Or maybe you’re going to tell me?” She raises an eyebrow and her eyes widen as she grabs the manuscript she must have been searching for. “Well?”
“I have no idea. I did think maybe you might know.” I close the door to Gina’s office and sit down in one of her guest chairs.
“Sure, sit down. Let’s have tea and gossip. I have nothing to do.”
“This won’t take long. You need a break, anyway. Your head looks like it’s about to spin off your body.”
She sighs and leans back in her chair. “It is. Between the nonsense here, and dealing with a boy reaching puberty all on my own…well, he technically has a father, but don’t get me started on my ex…and that…that…man of mine….”
Tony has been in the picture quite a while. I would say at least a year and a half. She was dating him when I came back to town. They keep breaking up and getting back together, according to Claire.
“Well you’re on the breakup rollercoaster, right?”
“Something like that, I guess. Anyway, it’s not easy. So, Claire. Didier told me she called in sick. She ate a bad shrimp and has food poisoning.”
“A bad shrimp? So only one was bad in a large bunch, or she stopped eating after the bad one?”
We both start laughing at the absurdity of her excuse. She obviously got the idea from me lying about her lateness on the first day of the conference.
“Oh my God, I’m sure Didier believed her, right? He probably thinks America is full of bad food.”
I haven’t had much interaction with Claire’s new immediate supervisor, but I’ve noticed that talking about American eating habits is something he enjoys. It really puts a damper on any catered office affair to hear about how fat and gluttonous we all are.
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