Avery nodded a few times as Aspen spoke, then replied in a calm, soft voice. “By the time the term is over, you might find that editing is the profession for you. But whether it is or not, I’m certain you’ll be sick of me.” She let out a surprisingly jolly laugh, then hung up, tossing her phone onto the bed. “I hate to think I was once that defensive, not to mention full of myself, but I assume I was.”
“Was that a co-worker?” Casey was playing with Lisbet’s feet, and she leaned over to act like she was going to take a bite from one, making her laugh. “If it was, I hope she doesn’t get your name in the secret Santa drawing. Your present will suck.”
Avery laughed, clearly able to take some teasing. “That was one of our many interns. Sadly, she’s the one I have to work with most often. She had a lot of nerve calling me on a Saturday for something so minor, but as long as I was talking to her I decided to give her some friendly advice.” She laughed again. “Maybe not so friendly, but some of the interns are major pains in the ass.”
“Do you… Um, the way you talked to her was very different from the way you usually talk to me or your parents. Was that on purpose?”
“Of course.” She smiled. “I code switch.”
“That means nothing to me.”
“Sure it does. You just don’t associate the term with it. Everybody tailors their speech to their audience. I was talking to a very literary kid, who thinks she’s going to be the next phenom, a female David Foster Wallace. Every conversation is like a chess match. She’s always trying to find logical inconsistencies in what I say.” She shrugged. “Aspen’s trying to show me how smart she is by making me feel inferior. That’s typical behavior for brainy kids whose whole identities revolve around being lauded for their smarts.”
“I don’t think I code switch much. I talk to you like I talk to my co-workers. Or my bosses, for that matter.” She laughed a little. “My vocabulary isn’t big enough to have extra words I save for special occasions.”
Avery sometimes looked like a teacher who was talking to a student who just wasn’t getting it. An expression Casey was all too familiar with. “Does it make you feel…” She shut her mouth for a second, and tried again. “How does it make you feel when I use words that aren’t in your normal vocabulary? You don’t ever think I’m trying to show off, do you?”
“Um…” She considered playing with her, but decided that was mean. “I don’t think your vocabulary revolves around me, and if it did, I’d just feel sorry for you.”
“It doesn’t,” she said, smiling warmly. “I just want to make sure I don’t sound like a snob when I pull out words that aren’t exactly in everyday usage.” She stopped, wincing slightly. “I know I do that a lot.”
“Not a lot. And when you do, I like it when you tell me what the weird words mean.”
“Really? Oh, I’m so glad,” she said, looking so sincere it was funny.
“Really. Listening to short stories lets me hear words I never use. I like trying to figure them out from the context, and when I can’t, I look them up. It’s fun.”
“I couldn’t agree more. Since I was a young girl, words have ensorcelled me.”
Casey held Lisbet in her arms to walk over to Avery. Then she put her hand over Lisbet’s arm to make her give her mother a tap on the head. “You’re screwing with me on that one.”
“Yeah, I was,” she admitted, laughing hard. “I love that word, but it’s far from common. It means to enchant, by the way. I just can’t resist it when I have the opportunity to pull it out.”
“Got it. I can’t spell it, so I can’t even write it down, but I can use it in a sentence. I’ve been ensorcelled by Lisbet Kendall Nichols, and I’m thrilled to be able to spend the afternoon with her, thanks to her very magnanimous mother.” She smiled at Avery’s raised eyebrow. “That was my big word of the day. I doubt there will be another.”
***
By one o’clock in the afternoon, Avery was ensconced on a relatively uncomfortable stool in the newest of the espresso places on Warren Street. There was a good crowd, which gave the place a nice vibe, but it wasn’t a good atmosphere for reading. So she went with another of her favorite Saturday afternoon pursuits—people-watching.
There were a number of small cafe tables in the center of the room, along with a shelf along the street front, where you could rest your coffee while you faced out. But since the streets were dead because of the icy wind, she turned around to face the interior of the space, hoping she didn’t look like she was staring.
Most of the patrons were her age or younger, giving her the opportunity to harken back to when she’d just started out in her career.
Hudson had a decent permanent gay population, but on the weekends a lot of gay people made the trek from the city to get a taste of the country. It didn’t surprise her that half of the tables were taken up by gay men, some of them obviously couples. There was only one table of women, a pair, whom she guessed were on a date. Maybe even their first since they seemed a little stiff with one another, and their laughs were frequent and forced. If she’d had to guess, this was not only their first date, it was likely their last. She didn’t pick up a single “this is going great” vibe from either of them.
Idly thinking of how little she missed dating strangers, she picked up her phone to pull up the dating app she used to use. After paging through it for a while, she went to her own profile, which she’d deactivated. The thought of updating it was daunting, since she’d have to include the fact that she had a one-year-old child. That alone would scare off most women, and when she added that she was living one hundred miles north of her old haunts, she’d lose the few brave souls who’d be willing to structure their dating lives around a baby’s needs. Digging deeper, she saw there were very few women who mentioned having children. That obviously didn’t mean they didn’t, in fact, have them. But she had to be honest and admit that she wouldn’t immediately click on a profile of a woman who had a small child. Having one of your own could be arduous. How would it work to have to integrate another woman’s child into her life? Obviously, it could be awesome with the right woman and the right child. But it could also be dreadful. What if you found a great woman who had a kid your kid didn’t like? Or if the woman had a bitter ex she shared custody with? If she had to be honest, she knew she’d only seek out women with kids if she didn’t match with any childless ones. But didn’t that mean a lot of other women would feel the same? Yes. It definitely meant that.
Fuck.
***
Casey texted at two.
We’ve been having a blast, but Lisbet needed a nap. Mind if I wait her out and see if she wants to shut the place down at five?
Avery gazed at the message for a minute, tempted to ask Casey to bring the baby home. Then she got hold of herself and made the more generous move.
Take your time. Just text when you leave. Have fun!
Now she had anywhere from two to four hours to do exactly what she wanted. But she’d gotten out of practice on how to fill a block of time. Given her daily wish was for more sleep, she decided to go home and pamper herself. A long bath, a manicure, and a nap could fill up the afternoon quite nicely. In fact, that short, simple list was probably every mother’s dream.
***
Some of her favorite music played from her phone, and a couple of candles rested on the rim of the tub. She was surrounded by bubbles, and warm water that nearly touched her chin.
Before Lisbet, Avery had been an avid bath-taker. She loved to soak while reading, a habit she’d gotten into when she’d been a young teenager. Today she luxuriated in the tub, and even though she’d planned on reading something fluffy, she did a little work, reading a fairly racy piece one of their interns from the previous year had submitted.
The writer, a woman named Min, had always seemed pretty buttoned-up, not to mention shy. But this piece was both sexy and sensual, something she never would have expected from the woman who appeared in the office most days in a prim sweat
er set and a skirt that nearly touched her knees. Avery often thought she dressed like a secretary from the fifties, so far from the other interns’ style that it seemed she’d been cast into the wrong movie.
This amazing piece was not only sensual, it was skillfully written, and even came in a little light on the word count. One of this year’s interns had already given it a big thumb’s up, and Avery agreed wholeheartedly. She was going to pass this one around at their all-hands meeting and see if the other editors agreed. She could just see the demure smile on Min’s face when she learned she was going to be published while still in college.
She dropped the pages to the floor and saw that her toes were starting to prune. If she wanted that nap, she had to get to it.
After drying off and putting on a thermal shirt and some sweats, she went into her room and flopped onto the bed. She’d made it when she’d gotten up, and didn’t want to mess it up too badly, so she pulled the end of the quilt over herself, and tugged a pillow down.
Normally, she was out in seconds, but she kept thinking Casey might text any minute to say they were leaving. She shouldn’t have set it up that way, but she really did want to know when they were on the way—so she could worry until they got home.
Stupid!
She kept trying different positions, but just couldn’t get comfortable enough to drift off. She’d been a lifetime stomach sleeper, but had to stop that cold while pregnant. Given her breasts were still milk-producing machines, they prevented her from getting comfortable on her belly, but she’d still not truly taken to side or back sleeping. A lifetime habit was very hard to break.
Masturbation had always been a good soporific, and Min’s story had perked her up… She rolled onto her back and slipped her hand into her roomy sweatpants. But when she touched herself she was surprised to find she wasn’t wet enough to get the job done. What was up with that? Granted, she hadn’t masturbated once since Lisbet had been born, but she’d assumed that was because she was so tired that she was out most nights as soon as her head hit the pillow. But now? When she had time and wouldn’t be interrupted for at least an hour?
She rolled over to find a tube of lube in her bedside table, and squirted a few drops onto her fingers. That helped, but as she touched herself, she realized things didn’t feel quite the same.
Avery had never been intensely curious about her body’s landscape, but she had a very clear picture of how her vulva had looked prior to pregnancy. Getting up, she went to her bathroom and found her old makeup mirror. It took a little maneuvering, but she dropped her pants and angled it so she could get a good look, then nearly dropped the mirror as she let out a cry. Whose body was she looking at? Hers was pink and kind of dainty, but this one was a few shades darker, slightly swollen, and almost purple by her perineum. Touching herself clinically, she realized everything was a little larger than it used to be. Not much, but enough to feel like someone else’s skin. It wasn’t grotesque or anything, but it wasn’t her!
Leaving the bathroom, she went back to bed, even more discomfited than she’d been before. She wasn’t going to be able to find a mate, or even a sex partner, and now she wasn’t even able to turn herself on? How did such a promising day turn so shitty?
***
The happy wanderers didn’t get home until six thirty, but Casey had thoughtfully stopped by her uncle’s restaurant to snare a small tray of lasagne. It hadn’t been cooked yet, so Avery went upstairs to feed Lisbet and read her a story while dinner was in the oven. By seven fifteen, the baby was out like a light, and Avery walked back down the stairs to the scent of a quasi-homemade meal.
“That smells so good I was tempted to cut Lisbet’s story short.”
“Ooo. Is she asleep?”
“Totally.” She stopped, seeing the disappointment on Casey’s face. “You can always come upstairs when I’m putting her down, you know. She thinks of you as one of the clan.”
“Really?” She looked utterly delighted.
“Of course. You don’t have to worry about overstepping, Casey. That’s never your instinct.”
“Yeah, but I want to respect your time with her.”
“You do. But a lot of caring for a baby is routine. Both of us would appreciate a little variety.”
“Then I’ll help out the next time I’m here. That’ll be fun.”
“Make it soon,” Avery said, so happy to be able to share something that Casey clearly valued deeply. “We both dig you.”
***
While Avery cleaned up after dinner, Casey went upstairs to check on the baby. Given the monitor was on, and they could both hear her breathing and making her cute little sleep sounds, it wasn’t necessary to peek in. But Casey wanted to say goodnight alone, and this was her chance.
She kissed her fingers and placed them on Lisbet’s cool forehead, gazing down at the sweet little thing lying in her crib without a pillow or a blanket or a toy. She believed Avery knew what she was doing in keeping the crib so Spartan, but this was how they treated prisoners on suicide watch. Couldn’t someone figure out how to give babies some comfort while not creating a safety risk?
Casey went back downstairs, finding Avery sitting on the polyester pod. It was such a dramatic change from how the place had looked just two years earlier, when her grandmother had the rooms stuffed with not only furniture she’d accumulated over her ninety years, but photos and paintings on the walls, along with bookcases filled with ceramic figurines people had given her over the years. She hadn’t been a crazy collector by any means, but compared to Avery she was an out-of-control hoarder.
The place honestly looked like the previous tenant had moved out without warning, leaving whatever she couldn’t fit into her car for the bum she was divorcing. But it wasn’t the lack of creature comforts that had placed the unhappy look on Avery’s face. At least, Casey doubted that her thrifty friend regretted not filling the house with stuff.
“What’s up?” she asked, sitting next to her.
“Just thinking.” She gave Casey a thin smile. “I had time to do that today, thanks to you.”
“Umm…were you thinking about things that upset you? You look like you’re about to cry.”
She shook her head quickly. “No, I’m not on the verge of tears. I’m just trying to be realistic.” She took in a deep breath and said, “This isn’t how I thought my life would turn out, but I can’t avoid the facts.”
“Which facts…?”
“I’m thirty-six years old, and for all intents and purposes, my sex life is over.”
“Wait,” Casey said, stuck on the words she’d used. “Those are three words?”
Avery stared at her for a second, then said. “Five.” She held up her splayed hand and pulled in a finger as she enunciated each. “My. Sex. Life. Is. Over.”
“No, no, the intensive purposes thing. You said it like it was three words instead of two. Is it?”
Avery cocked her head, clearly confused. “Two?”
“You said intensive purposes, right?”
Avery finally smiled. “That’s three words. I’m referring to whatever your intent or your purpose is. Intents and purposes is the phrase.” She slapped at Casey’s arm. “I just confessed that my sex life was over and you fixated on the words I used? Seriously?”
“Oh, shit! I didn’t mean to. I’ve just heard that expression kind of a lot, and I thought I knew it. But when you said it, it sounded funny…” She took a breath and grasped Avery’s hand. “I shouldn’t have gotten stuck on the words. But the meaning’s insane, so maybe I skipped over that.”
“I’m not insane, Casey. Since I got pregnant, no one even looks at me anymore. I used to get a pretty enthusiastic upvote when I cruised around town, from men and women alike. Now? Nothing.”
“When do you cruise around town? There is no town here, Avery. There isn’t even a post office, much less a business district.”
“There is in Hudson, and Rhinebeck, and lots of other towns around here. But I’m specifically t
alking about Brooklyn. When I was there a couple of weeks ago I tried to flirt with a cute lesbian on the subway. Guess what she did.”
“I—”
“She stood up and offered me her seat. I thought I was giving her a flirty look, but I must have looked like I was about to hit the floor.”
“Maybe she wanted to sit on your lap,” she said, trying to joke. But Avery didn’t crack a smile. “I’m sorry I’m making light of this. Really, I am. But it’s just because I can see how wrong you are, so it’s hard for me to take you seriously.”
“I’m very serious,” she said soberly. “I’m usually too busy to reflect much, but I had plenty of time to do that today. Too much,” she stressed. “I don’t feel like the same person I was, and I clearly don’t attract women any more. I’ve come to the conclusion that I’m not simply between girlfriends. I’m done.”
“Done? What kind of nonsense is that? You’re different in many, many ways, but everything you’ve been through has made you better.”
“Not physically,” she said, making a face. “You haven’t seen the mess that’s hidden under these sweatpants.”
“I’m not even going to humor you on that. I’m sure your body’s changed a little, but with your clothes on you look just like you did when we reconnected at the pub. You look great!”
“No, I don’t,” she said, refusing to give in. “Even when the baby’s not with me, I look, and act, like someone’s mom. I don’t feel sexy anymore, and people pick up on that. My sex drive is gone, Casey. One of the things I relied on for so much pleasure in my life is gone.”
“Misplaced,” Casey stressed. “You might have misplaced it, but you didn’t lose it. Loss is permanent, and I’m sure this isn’t.”
“It’s been a year since I gave birth,” she said solemnly. “And I didn’t have any interest in sex from the time I was about six months pregnant. That means it’s been a year and a quarter since I had the slightest interest. My sex drive should have come back by now, so I have to face the likelihood that it’s permanently gone.” She narrowed her eyes slightly. “The fucking internet isn’t helping, by the way. If you want to depress yourself, look at the huge number of women talking about how they dread having sex once they give birth.”
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