Where the Grass Is Green and the Girls Are Pretty

by Lauren Weisberger

  “Hi! Sorry! I think I signed up for this time slot?” said a bubbly blond teenager in a Paradise soccer T-shirt and shin guards. Her blond braid reached her lower back. Her pert nose was spattered with freckles. Even her teeth were bright white.

  “Of course,” Skye said with a warm smile, despite her panic. How had she just squandered away her precious ninety minutes surfing clothing sites and buying a bunch of stupid stuff she didn’t need? Why was it so damn hard to focus these days?

  She packed up and headed to the parking lot. Her phone rang as she was backing up, another blocked number that she screened. It rang again. And again. Was it another debt collector? She felt dampness spring to her underarms. They had been stalking her lately. It made her feel like a criminal, rather than someone who would have had the funds to pay for her perfectly legitimate charges before this shit show of a misunderstanding. Why were they so relentless, so completely single-minded? When the ringing started again, Skye stabbed the button on her car’s screen and screamed into the speakerphone. “Stop calling me already! I’ve told you everything you need to know. The stalker-calling is not helping anyone. I’m going to have to report you to—”

  “Skye? Is that you?” a woman’s voice rang out over the car’s speaker.

  Skye’s eyes widened. “Hello? Who is this?”

  “Skye? It’s Susan, from Forever Families?”

  “Oh my god, Susan! Of course, how are you?”

  “Is now a bad time? It sounds like you might be in the middle of something.”

  Skye forced a laugh. “Sorry about that! I thought you were someone else. Now’s a great time,” she lied, nearly rear-ending the car in front of her. “I’m just going to…There!” She pulled off the road and turned on her hazards. “I’m all yours.”

  “I typically like to have these conversations in person….”

  “Are you calling to say that our file has been reactivated?” Skye’s voice was high-pitched, how it got when she was lying. How had she not told Gabe yet that she’d decided—without so much as talking to him—to add their names back into the adoptive parents’ database? It was insanity.

  “Well, yes, to an extent. I must say, that was a bit of an investigative call on my part, to gauge your current situation, your position, your willingness…all of that.”

  Skye frowned. “Our position?”

  “I’m not being clear here, am I? I have to say, we have a bit of an unusual situation here, one that I haven’t personally encountered before.” Susan cleared her throat.

  “Is something wrong?” Skye’s mind flew to Aurora, even though she knew she was safe with Max, and both girls were on the way to meet her at the mall.

  “No, no at all. I know this might come as a bit of a shock, but Aurora’s birth mother is pregnant again…and she wants you and Gabe to adopt the baby.”

  A horn sounded from somewhere behind her. On the radio, John Mayer was singing his insipid lyrics about daughters becoming lovers and mothers. Cars flew by, drivers turning to glare at the person who’d double-parked and inadvertently blocked a part of the road. The air inside was suddenly humid, almost stifling.

  “Skye?”

  She felt her heart hammering. Was she having some kind of a cardiac event? Anxiety? Her breathing was shallow, and the air felt depleted of oxygen. Quickly she rolled down her window.

  “Say nothing, of course! Obviously, you’ll want to talk to Gabe and take some time to think about it. I have one detail more, however, that may…affect your decision.”

  “Don’t tell me the gender! I don’t want to know the gender!” Skye shouted, and then slapped her hand to her forehead. How could those be the first words she’d managed?

  “It’s not about the gender, although we do know and would be happy to share that information at whatever time felt right. I was going to say that the birth mother—Shayna—is already almost seven months along.”

  Skye did the math. “She’s due in October!”

  Susan murmured, “It’s quite soon. I do know she was hoping to keep the baby, but recent circumstances have made that impossible.”

  A group of laughing teenagers crossed in front of the car.

  “Skye? Is there anything else I can answer for you?”

  “What? Oh, um, I don’t think so. I’ll call Gabe, of course, and we’ll talk it over and get back to you. Is there a deadline? I know that’s not the right word, I’m sorry, but when should we let you know? I mean, obviously Shayna wants a decision sooner than later, but I’m not even home right now….”

  Susan’s voice was soothing. “I know this must be quite a shock, to get a call like this out of the blue. You two should take whatever time you need and get back to me when you’re ready, okay? And don’t hesitate to call if there’s anything I can do to help or provide you with any additional information.”

  “Right. Got it. I mean, thank you.”

  The call disconnected but Skye’s heart rate didn’t decrease. She put the car in drive and somehow arrived at the mall, even though she didn’t remember driving there, or parking, or walking inside. It was only the sound of her daughter’s voice that shook Skye out of her fugue state.

  “Mommy!” Aurora’s voice rang out, and Skye felt a pair of arms wrap tightly around her waist.

  “Chickpea!” Skye said, bending down to scoop Aurora into a hug. She pulled her to her chest and spun. Aurora’s legs swung through the air and she squealed.

  “Did you have so much fun with Max?” Skye asked, leaning in to kiss her niece on the cheek. She was shocked to hear how normal her own voice sounded. Like she hadn’t just received a life-changing call.

  “We really did,” Max said. Aurora nodded in agreement.

  “Someone is in dire need of clothes that fit for school, and let’s just say that shopping is not her favorite activity.” Skye tapped Aurora on the head.

  “Well, it’s not mine either,” Max said. “That is the domain of Auntie Peyton, am I right?”

  Aurora nodded. “Auntie Peyton loves to buy new clothes.”

  “She sure does,” Max said, and Skye laughed.

  “Mommy! Look at that! Do you see that! I want that! Can I have that?” Aurora screeched in a desperate voice Skye had never before heard. Before Skye or Max could say a word, Aurora bolted into Justice and fixed her gaze on a floor-to-ceiling display of sequined, monogrammed makeup bags.

  “This was such an amateur mistake,” Skye muttered, following her daughter into the store.

  Max laughed. “Don’t worry, the phase doesn’t last long. Don’t you remember how much I used to love this place? And look at me now.” Max motioned to her super-high-waisted belted mom jeans, ribbed tank, and Doc Martens, all in black.

  “Yes, but she’s only six!” Skye said, watching Aurora run her little hand across every reachable item. “That means we could have years of it.”

  Skye took a deep breath and nearly choked from the piped-in scent of birthday cake. Or was it jelly beans? Frosting? Whatever it was, it clung to her throat and the back of her tongue like a bad mouthwash. Aurora had never begged for Skye to buy her anything, at least not until she’d first walked into a Justice, that sparkling, glittering vortex of hell. Now the store activated some primal, involuntary switch in her little girl’s brain. Aurora was in a frenzy, running from display to display, examining and stroking and sniffing every piece of merchandise she could fit in her tiny hands.

  “Honey, we are not shopping here now,” Skye said as calmly as she could while watching her six-year-old gaze at a pair of sequined jeggings with rips in both knees.

  “But, Mommy! I love these!” Aurora bolted again, this time to a rack of “gift ideas.” There were rainbow initial pillows and bath bombs in every imaginable flavor. Everything was in a shade of light blue, pink, or purple. Ninety percent of it featured a unicorn, and if it lacked a unicorn i
t had a llama. There were fuzzy blankets and BFF necklaces and heart-shaped sunglasses. Backpacks with giraffes wearing headphones. Nightshirts with “Girlz Rule!” in glitter. Bed desks and diaries with locks, diaries with picture frames, diaries with unicorns—so many diaries. There was an entire wall of furry slippers and—god help them all—a makeup display geared toward the six- to ten-year-old crowd, where every lip gloss had a taste and every eye shadow had a sparkle. Gigantic hair bows. Temporary tattoos. A whole slew of things no child needed: dangly pierced earrings, sports bras, boy-short panties.

  “Mommy, please,” Aurora said urgently, pointing to a rack of pajamas. “Pretty please may I get something? I love so much things. Pretty please with a cherry on top?” Her tone was sweet and polite, but also nearly hysterical. Skye had never seen her daughter like this—not at a toy store, not anywhere.

  She started to say no and scoot them all away from the store’s heroin-like addictiveness, but Max gently placed a hand on Skye’s shoulder. “It’s an easy yes,” she said quietly. “There aren’t many of those.”

  Skye looked into her niece’s beautiful brown eyes, so wise beyond their young years. “You think I should get it for her?”

  Max nodded. “They’re fleece pajamas. Who cares? Be a hero and say yes. Think of it as an investment in the future: giving in on the small stuff makes it less likely she’ll need to come in ten years and show you her new nipple piercing. She won’t be asking permission for that one.”

  Skye shuddered at the thought of anything piercing anyone’s nipples. “You didn’t!”

  “I didn’t! I thought about it. But this?” She pointed to her nose ring. “That was strictly to piss off Mom.”

  Skye looked back to Aurora. “Which ones do you like the most?”

  Aurora squealed again. “These. With the unicorns. I love them.”

  Skye examined the fleecy one-piece pajamas: they were purple with pink paws on the feet and hands and a sparkly silver unicorn horn poking up from the hood. It had no message swathed across the butt and no revealing bits whatsoever. Could be worse, she thought, as she nodded her acquiescence.

  Aurora whooped. “Thank you, Mommy, thank you so much! I am going to wear them every single night, forever and ever.”

  Skye and Max laughed as Aurora took off again to check out another display.

  “See? Easy yes,” Max said.

  “How did you get so wise?” Skye asked, nudging Max’s arm.

  “You think I’m smart?” Max asked, widening her eyes. “Mom told you that the judge decided?”

  Skye nodded. “Three weeks?”

  “Yep. Three weeks in the clink. Plus a fine and community service. He got off pretty easy, right?”

  Skye reached out and touched her shoulder. “I don’t think he would agree that he got off easy. Jail is still jail.”

  Max peered at Skye, curious. “Why are you defending him? I’ve heard you talk to Mom, and you’ve sounded like you hate him.”

  Something about the way Max’s mouth pinched and turned down, all the hurt and confusion stamped on her face, made Skye’s throat constrict. Her hands flew to her eyes, but the tears felt completely beyond her control.

  “I’m sorry,” she said quickly, as Max’s expression turned to concern. “I’ve just been very…emotional lately.”

  “No, I’m sorry!” Max breathed. “I shouldn’t have said anything about your charity. My mom explained the whole thing, and I know it’s a really hard situation….I make everyone cry lately.”

  “Please, honey, don’t. You’re the one who’s been affected here,” Skye said, wiping at the tears that wouldn’t seem to slow. There was that feeling again, like she couldn’t quite breathe. How was she going to tell Gabe? What if he didn’t want the baby? What did it mean for the residence? How was she going to pay off her debt?

  Max stroked her back, clearly unsure what to say.

  “I don’t know why I’m like this….It must be perimenopause. Anytime a woman over forty cries, it’s perimenopause.”

  “Mommy? Why are you crying?” Aurora asked, appearing out of nowhere. She clutched an overstuffed pillow in the shape of a poop emoji.

  “What, sweetheart? I’m not crying, love. I was just…talking to Max.”

  Aurora held the poop pillow over her head. “Can we get this, Mommy? Please?”

  Skye tried to answer, but her voice came out choked.

  “Aurora, honey, no one wants a giant pile of poop on their bed,” Max said reasonably. “But you know what? I’ve been searching everywhere for a purple lip gloss. Not pink. And it must have sparkles. Will you see if you can find me one?”

  The little girl dropped the pillow at her feet and took off toward the makeup display, delighted with her assignment.

  “Thank you,” Skye whispered.

  “It’s okay to cry, you know,” Max said.

  “This is not a tragedy, I recognize that,” Skye said, watching as Aurora carefully removed every lip gloss in the display case and examined it. “But it somehow feels like the residence is doomed, that it won’t ever happen now. I’ll never find another investor, and I’ll spend the next eight years like the last: not working, micromanaging my kid’s life, surrounded by über-wealthy people with the wrong priorities. Not to mention massively in debt.” The words came easily, but in her mind, it was only baby, baby, baby, over and over again.

  Suddenly Max’s arms were around her, hugging her close. “I’m sorry, Aunt Skye. I know it’s not—I really do—but it feels like this is somehow all my fault. Like my dad wouldn’t have done this if it weren’t for me.”

  Skye waved her hand. “Look at me, talking to you like you’re thirty and not seventeen. It’s because you act like you’re thirty! But seriously, honey, I’m fine. I may not look like it now, but I will be. We will be.”

  “Max! I found it! Purple lip gloss with pink sparkles, just like you wanted,” Aurora announced, thrusting the tube in front of her cousin’s face. “I picked the prettiest one.”

  Max accepted the lip gloss like it was a delicate, rare bird. “Wow,” she breathed, gazing at it with joy. “This is exactly what I wanted. Thank you!”

  “Will you open it now? Please? I want to taste it!”

  Max and Skye both laughed.

  “Come on,” Skye said, taking the lip gloss from Max and adding it to the pile that already included the unicorn one-piece. “This one’s on me.”

  26

  Torture on a Tatami

  The car was cool and comfortable, the air-conditioning on full blast, but Peyton’s hands were sweaty on the steering wheel. As she stared at the empty tracks in front of her, she wondered if it was physiologically possible to feel nervous about seeing your own husband. First-date jitters for someone you’d shared a bed with for nearly two decades? Her foot hammered the floor.

  By the time the train lumbered into the station and the first wave of passengers stepped onto the platform, Peyton was holding her breath. She watched as people poured off the train, every shape and size of commuter, with only their exhaustion and misery in common. They climbed into Ubers and taxis and shuttle buses and SUVs with school stickers on the bumpers and every imaginable brand of luxury sedan. Within sixty seconds the platform was almost empty, everyone dispersed to enjoy a short evening at home. Three hours, maybe, where they would assist with homework, and help clear the dinner table, and hear every last excruciating detail about the most recent drama with the Board of Ed, and read bedtime stories, and threaten consequences if children emerged one more time from their rooms, and wish they wanted to have sex with their spouse when all they actually wanted was to grab a pint of ice cream or a beer and zone out to whatever insipid thing they were watching on Netflix before it was time to pass out so they could do it all over again the very next day. And the day after that. She closed her eyes for a moment. Was she becoming one of them
?

  Finally, Peyton spotted Isaac at the very end of the track. He was wearing jeans and her favorite shirt, a bright blue polo that made his eyes pop, and carrying a bouquet of sunflowers. She gave a friendly honk and waved when their eyes met. A quick glance in the mirror confirmed that her freshly blown hair still looked good and her eye makeup hadn’t melted. It mattered. She wanted him to want her again.

  “Hey,” Isaac said, pulling open the passenger door and climbing in.

  “Hi, honey!” Peyton’s voice was higher than she’d intended. She leaned over to kiss him, but he turned slightly so she would get his cheek. Undeterred, she said, “You look great. Rested. And those flowers are gorgeous.”

  He glanced at the bouquet in his lap but made no move to hand them to her. “You think Aurora will like them? I didn’t have time to stop at a toy store.”

  “Aurora?” Her voice caught in her throat. “I’m sure she’ll love them! I signed both our names on the robot toy I bought her, too.”

  The sushi restaurant that Aurora had chosen for her seventh birthday because it featured an indoor koi pond with fish and an entire wall of chirping parakeets was only a mile away, so there wasn’t much chance for discussion before Peyton pulled into the parking lot.

  “Right this way,” the host said, grandly motioning for them to follow. “The rest of your party is already here.”

  They followed him past the pond and the birds to the very back of the restaurant, where he opened a curtain to reveal a small, private room. There, sitting on the floor with their legs dangling into the cut-out space around the sunken table, was their entire immediate family.

  “Please remove your shoes,” the host said with another exaggerated flourish before he abruptly departed.

  There was a moment of awkward silence. Then Marcia said, “Welcome to the only place in America where you have to pay to sit on the floor and eat your food with cold feet. Come in, don’t be shy!”