“Hey,” David said when he got home. He was home early from work, a quarter past six. “Is it just us?”
“For now,” she said. She was wiping down the bench, not meeting his eye. They were speaking civilly, like they always did, but there was an undercurrent. “Hilary, Jake, and Scarlett are on their way. Hilary is bringing a cake and I’ve made spaghetti Bolognese.”
She was trying hard to be pleasant and it was uncomfortable and awful. Yet letting it out simply didn’t feel like an option.
“That’s really what he wants for his birthday dinner?”
“He’s a man of simple tastes,” Kate said. Like his father, she wanted to add, but it sounded too friendly, too conciliatory. And she was not feeling conciliatory.
She wasn’t sure why she was so riled up. It hadn’t been an unpleasant day. She’d spent the morning at the hospital and none of her patients had taken particularly bad turns. Even Alice seemed to be recovering well from the operation and should be discharged tomorrow. She’d spent the afternoon grocery shopping for Jake’s birthday dinner. Usually Kate loved the suburban humdrum of grocery shopping. She even enjoyed family dinners. Jake and Scarlett were good kids (how could they not be, with parents like Hilary and David?), and when they all got together she always felt a strange sort of pride at how harmoniously their blended family worked. In the early days, when she, David, Hilary and Danny and the kids gathered around the dining room table, Kate had always imagined the high chair that would one day be pushed up against the table. The chubby face that would be covered in red sauce. The big brother and sister who would lovingly talk about how annoying their li’l bro or sis was. The “annoying” kid who would be the apple of the family’s eye.
Kate had had such a clear picture of it all. And now that the image had been denied her, Kate felt cheated. It was, she realized, her own fault—marriage wasn’t meant to be conditional. But hadn’t she, during the last two years while she’d been playing the role of doting stepmother and new wife, been doing it on a silent promise of something to come? Hadn’t she signed up for a life that she’d only be happy with if certain conditions were met? She must have, because now that she understood David’s conviction that they should not have a child, she couldn’t seem to summon that old affection for Hilary, Jake, and Scarlett. Instead, she found herself entertaining different thoughts. Who are these strangers in my living room? These children who aren’t my own, this motherly figure who was once married to my husband? What happened to the things I’d assumed would once be mine—the big belly, the Lamaze breathing, the fluffy toys? The child who at certain angles looked like me and at other angles looked like David’s aunt Maude? What happened to that?
“Zoe’s staying again tonight,” she said to him, stirring the sauce. “She had an assignment to work on with a friend after school, but she’ll be here soon.” Kate paused when he didn’t say anything.
“Tonight? But it’s Jake’s birthday.”
Kate turned around. “Her mom is staying in the hospital for one more night. I didn’t know what else I could do.” She watched his face. “I mean … is that all right?”
“I guess it has to be,” he said finally.
David took the spoon from her. He began to lift it to his mouth, then appeared to think better of it and just stirred it instead. It was strange, feeling so awkward with the man who shared her bed.
“Zoe’s a quiet kid, isn’t she?” he said after a few seconds.
“She’s shy,” Kate said, oddly protective of her. “But she’s a sweet girl.” Kate took the spoon back. “I got a call from the clinic today.” She paused, letting that sink in, or perhaps, psyching herself up. “We don’t have any embryos left and they want to know if we were planning to do another stimulation cycle to harvest more eggs.”
The silence that followed felt charged. Finally, a sigh. “I’d been clear on this, Kate.”
“I thought I had, too,” she replied.
David was silent, which was a good sign. He was a thinker. He would understand that it was unreasonable of him, making this decision unilaterally. He might still worry, but he’d have to reconsider it if he understood how important it was to her.
“Kate, I just feel like this would be … prolonging the pain,” he said finally. “Haven’t we already implanted three embryos? Now to start the stimulation cycle again from scratch? Do you really want to go through all that again?”
“Yes,” she said.
David closed his eyes. “Well, I don’t.”
And that was it; they’d both finally come out and said it. Whoever said the truth was cathartic must never have been in their situation.
“So what do we do?” Kate said.
The question hung between them—a guillotine blade, ready to cleave them apart.
“Do you want us to, uh … come back?”
They both looked at the doorway, where Hilary, Danny, Jake, and Scarlett stood. A purple helium balloon with the number 17 on it bobbed above their heads.
David sprang into action first. “No, don’t be silly. Come in, guys.”
They stumbled into the room. It was hard to tell how much they’d heard, but from the way they were acting, they knew they’d walked in on an argument. Kate hustled to straighten up, to look nonchalant—everyone would be more comfortable if they covered it up, pretended it never happened. Kate knew the rules. At the same time she suddenly saw the utter ridiculousness of it.
“Yes, come in,” Kate said, pasting on a giant smile. She stepped forward to hug Jake. “Happy birthday!”
34
Zoe sat in Kate and David’s sunroom. She’d let herself in the back door when she’d found the front door locked. There had never been any discussion of a key and there was no way she was going to ring the bell—what if David or one of his kids had answered? She’d planned to creep into the kitchen, say a quick hi, and then rush up to her room, but then she heard the voices. Lots of them. There was some sort of gathering in the back room.
Now, she sat on a wicker chair, trapped. She had no intention of walking into a room full of strangers so instead she stayed put, thinking about Harry. Wishing she was back in that bedroom with him.
“Oh,” Kate said, coming into the room. “Sorry. I didn’t know you were home.”
“I let myself in the back door,” Zoe said. “Sorry, I should have—”
“No, it’s fine. I should have given you a key.” Kate pushed her hands back through her hair, uncharacteristically flustered. She wore skinny jeans with a white T-shirt, under a casual multicolored kimono. Zoe wondered if she put a lot of thought into what she wore or if it was just a talent of hers, looking effortlessly cool. “I was just … taking a minute. It’s Jake’s birthday, we’re having a gathering. Did you want to join us?”
“Thanks, but I’m okay.”
Kate nodded slowly, perching on the arm of the wicker sofa. “Did you see your mother today?”
Zoe shook her head.
“She’s doing better, Zoe. She’ll be fine to come home tomorrow.”
“Will she be in pain?” Zoe asked.
“She’ll have to rest for a week or so,” Kate said. “No heavy lifting. She should stay in bed, or on the couch.”
“I’ll download some Leo DiCaprio films,” Zoe said. She thought of the time they’d watched Gatsby and her mom had actually moaned when Leo came onto the screen. “Mom loves Leo.”
Kate smiled. “Who doesn’t love Leo?”
Zoe shrugged. She didn’t tell her that she thought Leo was old and a little wrinkly.
“So did you finish your assignment?” Kate asked her.
“I … think so.”
“What’s it about?”
“A debate. My side is arguing that we should call teachers by their first names. I’m the first speaker.”
“You’re a speaker?”
Kate’s eyebrows shot up, which confirmed how ridiculous the whole thing was. She’d have to make something up. An illness or something. It wouldn’t eve
n be a lie. The whole idea was making her ill.
“Wow, well done you,” Kate said. “I’m terrified of public speaking.”
“You are?” For some reason this surprised Zoe.
“Uh-huh. I did a speech on my wedding day and I was so nervous I had three glasses of champagne right before. I forgot half of what I was going to say and then I hiccupped my way through the other half. It was a disaster. David still teases me about it.”
“I’m scared of public speaking too,” Zoe admitted.
“Oh. Are they making you do it?”
“Not exactly.”
Kate nodded thoughtfully. “You know what I do when I’m scared of doing something? I just don’t think about it. On our honeymoon, David really wanted to go bungee jumping. I told him I’d do it, because I wanted him to think I was fearless but the truth is, I was petrified.” She laughed. “We jumped off a bridge in New Zealand and even as we walked up it I told myself we were just having a nice stroll.”
Zoe laughed. In her world, nothing went unanalyzed. The idea of doing something terrifying without totally unpacking it, using affirmations, and psyching up for it first, just felt … impossible.
“Obviously you have to prepare for your debate,” Kate said. “But maybe don’t think about the fact that you have to deliver it just yet. Take it one step at a time. Write the debate. Practice it. But just tell yourself you’re going to deliver it alone in your bedroom or something.”
Zoe suddenly wondered if Kate could see through her. Was it that obvious she was a loser who did speeches in her room?
“Anyway,” Kate said after a moment. “I’m sure you don’t need advice from me.”
“It’s good advice,” Zoe said.
Kate smiled. And for a few seconds, even in the silence, Zoe felt surprisingly comfortable. It wasn’t like her to be comfortable in silence, or with a stranger.
“I like this room,” Zoe said, finally, partly to fill the silence and partly because she did like the room. It was small, but with lots of windows and a view of the garden. It gave Zoe the feeling that she could see everything without anyone seeing her. “It’s a good place to hang out … be by yourself, you know?”
“Yes,” Kate said. “Well … I guess I’ll leave you in peace, then.”
“I didn’t mean you had to leave,” Zoe said quickly, exasperated with herself. She’d just had a nice conversation with Kate and it sounded like she was trying to kick her out. The irony was that, strange as it was, she wanted Kate to stay. “Sometimes I say things because I … I don’t know what else to say … and my words just come out wrong.”
Kate frowned. She focused on something off in the distance, like she’d just remembered something. “I’m sure you’re not the only one who does that.”
“Feels like it sometimes.”
“I’ll bet.” Kate smiled, looking back at Zoe. “Well, I really do need to get back to dinner. Are you sure you won’t join us?”
Zoe shook her head.
“Okay.” She headed for the door, then paused and looked around, seeing the room as if for the first time. “You know what? This room is a good place to be by yourself.”
Zoe smiled and Kate left the room. But when she was gone, Zoe realized that while it was a good place to be by herself … it was an even better place to be with someone else.
35
Alice was home, finally. Sonja insisted on seeing her up to her apartment, which Alice allowed, even if she was ignoring her entirely. Children and Family Services had confirmed this morning that she was a “fit” parent and Zoe would be returned to her today, no thanks to Sonja. Inside, Alice went straight to the window and pulled open the curtains. Sonja was carrying her bags, something Alice would have ordinarily refused, but she didn’t today. Let her carry the bags.
“Kate will be here in ten minutes,” Sonja said. “With Zoe. And your cat will be dropped off shortly. Can I get you anything?”
“No.”
“I can stay for a while, if you like,” she said. “We can go through your insurance papers. Or we could talk a little about how best to discuss this with Zoe.”
It was almost as though Sonja didn’t want to leave.
“I know how to discuss this with Zoe,” she said, looking out the window. She added “Thank you,” but it was more of a thank-you-very-much than a genuine thank-you.
“I was wondering about Zoe’s father,” Sonja said tentatively.
Alice spun to face her. Sonja actually took a step back. “Why were you wondering that?”
“Well, I just … I wondered if he could be of any help to you. Or Zoe?”
“No,” Alice said. “He couldn’t.”
Sonja seemed to be contemplating whether to say anything more. For a social worker, she really did seem to be quite unsure of herself. “I understand that Zoe doesn’t know who he is. I just wondered if that is a good idea. I mean … in case—”
“In case what?” Alice held her eye defiantly for a moment, and then she exhaled. “Zoe is better off alone than with him.”
“All right, well, if you’re sure—”
“I’m sure, Sonja. Good-bye.”
Alice turned back to the window, but Sonja didn’t leave right away. Even with her back to her, Alice could feel her there. For a moment Alice wondered if behind her strange immovable face, Sonja was more fragile than she seemed.
“Sonja, I—”
Alice turned around just as the door closed with a gentle click.
* * *
Alice was still standing at the window when the car pulled up. She waited for the door to fly open and Zoe to come tearing out of it. The car ride would have been excruciating for her. Alice had asked Sonja to organize a cab for her, but (of course) that was against the rules.
Zoe’s door opened a crack but she stayed put in the car. Alice strained to see into the car. Zoe was looking at Kate, her head nodding, her mouth moving. Talking. Perhaps not starting a conversation but at least answering questions. It was … unexpected. Zoe barely talked to Alice when they were in the car! Seeing her talk to Kate, Alice felt a surge of pride, followed by another feeling that she couldn’t quite define. But both those feelings were quickly forgotten when Zoe finally emerged from the car, locked Alice in her gaze, and began to run, full-pelt, up the stairs toward her.
* * *
Once, when Paul was drunk, he asked Alice if she ever resented Zoe for coming along and ruining her life. Zoe was three.
“You used to have a life,” he slurred. “Friends. Prosperence.” (“Prosperence,” Alice decided, was a mash-up of “prospects” and “prosperous,” so she didn’t bother to correct him.)
She should, of course, have been outraged at the question—the very idea of asking a mother if she resented her child—but it was hard to invoke that sort of feeling about something Paul said, particularly when it was something so utterly laughable.
The truth was, Alice herself had been unprepared for how much she would love Zoe. She liked kids well enough, admired their honesty, among other traits. But she hadn’t understood the way she’d become addicted to Zoe’s smell, the feeling of her nestled against her hip, the way she would call spaghetti “sketetti.” Most of all, she didn’t understand how addicted she’d become to the way Zoe loved her. Sometimes Alice wondered if she liked that a little too much. Sometimes she wondered if Zoe had ruined her life, or if it was the other way around.
* * *
A week after being released from the hospital, Alice sat on the couch, leafing through her mail, while Zoe sat on the floor, folding laundry. In some ways it felt as if nothing had changed. Apart from the great wound on Alice’s belly, and a diary full of chemo dates, things had effectively returned to normal.
Zoe looked up at her, holding a white shirt.
“Kate has a shirt like this,” she announced.
“How nice,” Alice said, trying for a smile. In the past week Zoe must have mentioned Kate’s name a dozen times. Not a ridiculous amount, Alice conceded,
but a lot for Zoe.
Kate did a speech at her wedding and got the hiccups.
Kate has a little sunroom that’s nice to sit in.
Kate has a giant house.
Kate. Such a pretty, inoffensive name, and Alice was starting to find it quite irritating.
“It would look really good with a chunky necklace,” Zoe said, “or with a sweater over the top, you know, layered?”
“It would,” Alice agreed. She wanted to add that she wore layers all the time. That Kate didn’t actually invent layering. But that would have sounded mean-spirited. Alice was relieved when there was a sudden knock at the door, so they could finally stop talking about Kate.
“It’ll be Dulcie,” Alice said, shifting forward in her seat. “Give me a pull to standing, would you, Mouse?”
Alice reached out her arms, but Zoe beat her to it, heaving herself off the floor in a flash. “I’ll get it.”
Alice was stunned into silence. Zoe never answered the door. Even now she didn’t look entirely comfortable. Her hands shook and her cheeks were already flaming. But she was crossing the living room and wrenching open the door. Was she dreaming?
“Oh, it’s you,” came Dulcie’s voice. “Here, my grocery list. And tell your mother I don’t want the generic brand of canned tomatoes. But not the fancy ones either, too expensive. I like the ones with the yellow label and—”
“Actually,” Zoe said, her voice wavering slightly. “My mom isn’t well. She’s been in the hospital. She can’t even do her own grocery shopping, let alone anyone else’s.”
There was a pause.
“Well, what am I supposed to do?” Dulcie said.
“You could go yourself,” Zoe suggested. “Or you could pay the grocery store to deliver. Or you can leave your list with me and I will do it when I can. But right now I’m looking after my mother.”
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