“Belly Acres, get it?” Laurie says, and Jack nods. Funny. But he doesn’t see anything resembling a big house.
“The house was gorgeous. F. Scott Fitzgerald stayed in the guesthouse for a while. But they tore everything down to build the freeway,” Laurie tells him. “Isn’t that sad? At least they named the street after him.”
Jack looks around at the condos and apartment buildings; he can hear and see the freeway traffic below them.
“I’ve driven by here a million times. I saw the street sign, but I never knew about the house,” Laurie says. “We found some black-and-white photos; they’ll be in the next Hidden Valley. You should check out Edward Everett Horton’s films or go to YouTube and find Fractured Fairy Tales; they’re hilarious. He’s the narrator. He has the most incredible voice.” She looks around again. “And now other people are going to know about this place. That’s pretty cool, to take something forgotten and bring it back.”
“Very cool,” Jack says. He has no idea what Fractured Fairy Tales are, but if Laurie says they’re good, he’ll check them out.
***
He is studying on the steps in front of Royce Hall waiting for Megan when he notices Alan standing nearby. Not spying on him from a distance this time. Jack wonders what to do. Pretend he doesn’t see him? Before he can decide, Alan walks over. “Nice campus,” Alan says as if this is his first visit to UCLA.
“Yeah.”
Alan clears his throat. “Laurie doesn’t know I’m here. Is she okay?”
“You talk to her. She would’ve told you if she wasn’t.”
“I thought because you see her all the time…I wanted to make sure.” Alan looks as if he hasn’t shaved in a few days and he must not be sleeping well either. Jack doesn’t remember bags under Alan’s eyes before. “I love her,” Alan says. “I know it doesn’t seem like it—she’s having a baby and I move out. The Facebook thing—that was my fault. But Laurie’s reaction… you wouldn’t understand how crazy women get.”
Jack could tell Alan about Normandie, how he ran into her a week ago on campus and she introduced him to her new boyfriend, Jeb. Jeb is short with a thick neck and freckles. “Jeb’s a wrestler,” Normandie says, “and he’s teaching me all kinds of moves. Want us to show you the double-leg takedown?” She grins at Jeb and he grins back. “Or the cement mixer?” Normandie leans close to Jack and whispers, “You let a good one get away, Jack. Never forget that.”
“My loss,” he says to her, trying to imagine what the cement mixer looks like.
***
“It’s not as if I’m jealous of you,” Alan tells Jack. “It’s more about the baby.”
“That makes sense,” Jack says.
“Sometimes I think it does. But sometimes…not so much.” Alan looks at the campus. “I grew up sharing everything—a bedroom, clothes, bikes, ice skates…my parents’ attention. Big family, five kids. Five. I was the youngest. And that was fine. It’s the way it was. Only now, I’m done with that. I want something of my own. Like a child. My child should be mine. Shouldn’t it?”
“But it is. Yours and Laurie’s.”
“Yours too.”
“No, I was just the—” Jack’s not sure what to say. Sperm or specimen or donor, none of those sound right. “Like when you make cookies, I was the butter.” Oh man, what did he just say?
Alan seems to weigh that. “But I wanted to be the butter. And the flour and the vanilla. I wanted to be all of it.”
They’re comparing the baby to baking? “But in the end, you still get the cookies,” Jack says.
“The cookies.” Alan nods, doesn’t say anything for a while. “Buddy’s going to grow up confused.”
“Everybody grows up confused,” Jack says. “I’m more worried about changing diapers.”
Alan shakes his head. “I don’t care about diapers.” He looks at Jack. “Are you going to be around? After?”
“I don’t know.”
“Does Laurie want you to be?”
“She says I should decide what’s best for me. And I don’t know what that is right now. I mean, I’m a kid. I’m not ready to be a father. Trust me, the last thing I want is to get in your way.”
“I’m glad you’re taking care of her,” Alan says.
“She misses you.”
“She told you that?”
“She doesn’t have to say anything. I can tell.”
Alan runs his hands over his stubby almost beard. “She’s never going to forgive me.”
“You could give her a chance.”
“I miss her so much.”
“So let her know. Look, I’m not any kind of expert in relationships—I sort of suck at them, but you and Laurie…it’s stupid the way you’re acting. When you both love each other and you’re having a baby, it’s kind of—duh, get over yourselves.”
Alan thinks that over and nods at Jack. “What happens after you graduate?”
“I don’t know yet,” Jack says.
Alan smiles. “Have you ever thought about joining the Peace Corps?”
Laurie
Elephants are pregnant for almost two years. Their babies can weigh 250 pounds at birth. Baby Buddy must weigh at least 250 pounds already. My marriage might fail, Laurie tells herself, but at least I’ll make it into the Guinness Book of World Records. That’s something Buddy can always be proud of.
Her due date is a week away, and she is impatient and short-tempered, and impatient at being short-tempered. Jack is studying all the time; Alan is calling, but the conversations remain short. Yes, he’ll be at the hospital. He hopes she’s doing well. Does she need anything? For us to be living in the same house again, she’d like to say to him. He is doing the best he can. She knows he is, but honestly, at nine months pregnant, her back constantly aching, her feet too fat for her shoes, sometimes doing the best you can isn’t remotely close to being good enough.
Are elephants smart enough to be depressed and impatient during their long pregnancies? She bets there’s no Lamaze for elephants. No pant pant pant, deep, cleansing breath bullshit. No epidurals either. That must suck. Of course, female elephants probably have supportive male elephants with them during their pregnancy and labor—no, of course they don’t. They have mates like Alan—selfish and plotting affairs with other elephants.
Alan tells Laurie he’s watched Lamaze videos online so he’s caught up. It’s exciting; he can’t wait. And she believes him, but what will it be like in the delivery room, the two of them together again? Awkward. Will they be cool toward each other?
It feels like years ago, a lifetime ago when she and Alan made the decision. They were traveling, taking advantage of being young and married and eager to go anywhere and try anything. They’d found themselves at the top of a small waterfall in Costa Rica and everything around them was bright green and lush and sauna warm, and they looked down at the bottom of the falls, to a small green/blue circle of water. A few other people were jumping, but Laurie hesitated.
“I’m scared,” she said.
“Me too.” Alan smiled at her. “You know what? I think we should go to another country.”
“What? Are you saying that so I don’t have to jump?”
“I’m saying that because I think it’s time.” He paused. “For a metaphorical another country.”
Laurie didn’t say anything.
“Traveling with you is fantastic,” Alan said. “But we need a new adventure.”
“All these metaphors, my head can’t keep track of them. Are you talking about what I think you’re talking about?”
Alan nodded. “A baby.”
“A baby.”
“You and me. Our baby. It’s the next step, right? Part two of our lives?”
Laurie looked down to the pool at the base of the waterfall. It seemed so far away. “Our baby. Yeah, that’s some adventure.” She
grinned at Alan. “I don’t know what’s scarier—this waterfall or…” She trailed off. “I would love to have a baby,” she said.
“So? Are you ready?”
“We have to get pregnant? Right now? Here?”
“No, silly. After. Assuming we survive the fall.”
At that moment, Laurie couldn’t imagine being married to anyone else. Alan was the man she loved, in spite of his invisible eyebrows. And soon he would be the father of their child.
“The jump part, you can go first,” she said.
“No way. We’re in this together.” He took her hand.
They closed their eyes. And jumped.
***
Baby Buddy kicks twice—little taps as if he’s preparing for one big kick.
“Be patient, Buddy. Like me. Well, not like me. But be patient anyway.”
***
She has to go to Trader Joe’s. What should she make for dinner? Jack likes pizza, and it’s easy to buy Trader Joe’s ready-made pizza dough and add fresh veggies and cheese. The pizza stone in the oven helps too. Of course, that’s probably some babyproof kitchen no-no—hasn’t she heard about all the children who are knocked unconscious when hot pizza stones fall out of the oven and land on their heads?
She writes down a shopping list for Trader Joe’s: dark-chocolate-covered pretzels—she’ll only get one bag this time. And not vegetable pizza tonight. Prosciutto and mozzarella. She’ll be good and have one slice. Or two. Buddy kicks again, and she takes that as a sign. Yes, Buddy. I’ll have two slices of pizza. After all, you’re a growing boy.
Alan
The lady at the Safe-Tee Baby store shows him the choke tube tester. “Babies put everything in their mouths,” she explains. “Everything.” She drops two marbles inside the plastic tube where they fit easily. “See?” She nods ominously.
Alan wonders how children ever survived without a choke tube tester. Shouldn’t our planet be extinct?
“This is our most popular newborn toy,” she says as she holds up a brightly colored stuffed horse and rider. “Sir Prance-a-lot.” She makes the horse gallop on the counter. Alan reads the attached tag:
Sir Prance-a-lot to the rescue! Clip this whimsical activity toy to your stroller or car seat, and it will keep baby busy wherever you go. Crinkle, jingle, clack, squeak, touch…we’re off on a learning adventure! This darling baby horse toy features a vibrant mix of colors, textures, teethers, ribbons, knots, and activities, all carefully designed to stimulate baby’s senses.
“And you want to make sure to stimulate your baby’s senses, don’t you?” the clerk says.
No, he’ll let baby Buddy grow up in a room with no light, no music, no physical touch, no crinkle, jingle, clack, or squeak sounds. Buddy’s life will be an interesting social experiment. He’s sure Laurie will go along with the idea.
“You’ve got all your baby gates and knob guards and toilet locks? Because an accident can happen like that.” The clerk snaps her fingers.
“How many children do you have?” Alan asks her.
“None. Not yet,” she says. “Do you need anything gift wrapped?”
Alan declines; he’ll wrap everything himself. Laurie has always accused him of being inept at wrapping presents. He’ll look for online tips, wrap the baby gifts so cleverly she’ll think he’s had them done professionally, and when he tells her he’s done it, she won’t believe him. She’ll fall in his arms and the past few weeks will be forgotten.
Unless Jack is there and wants to watch Laurie open presents and Jack will sit close to her and laugh at Sir Prance-a-lot and the choke tube tester—who would choose dumb baby presents like that?
***
Friends at work talk about buying their wives “push presents” to reward them for giving birth—pearl necklaces, diamond tennis bracelets. Laurie isn’t a big jewelry person, but Alan found a silver necklace with a tiny diamond cross. Very subtle, elegant, and pretty. A push present or a “forgive me for screwing up big time” present? Both? He’ll wrap up the baby presents, keep the diamond cross necklace in his pocket, and give it to her after the baby is born. But tonight he’ll stop by a florist and Laurie’s favorite Thai food place. Show up at the house and surprise her.
Back at his apartment, he wraps presents using a “Wrap the Perfect Gift” site he’s found on the web. Laurie will be impressed, he thinks as he makes perfect flaps for one end of the box. He wonders if Laurie’s called today, and he reaches in his pocket for his BlackBerry, but it’s not there and he has a flash of seeing it on the counter at the Safe-Tee Baby store. Damn. He could call, but the store is probably closed. He’ll stop by in the morning.
He returns to his wrapping. The other end of the box looks as good as the first.
He can’t wait to see the look on Laurie’s face.
Jack
“It’s time to tell them,” Subhra says on the phone. “They’re going to be grandparents. They have a right to know.”
“No, they don’t. And you promised—”
“But I’m excited. I’m almost an aunt. Do you feel like a father?” Subhra asks him.
“Not really. Maybe a little.” He’s explained how Alan moved out and Subhra asks what kind of man would desert his wife when she’s about to have a baby. Jack defends Alan—he didn’t desert Laurie. It was sort of a mutual decision.
Subhra remains skeptical. “So now Laurie is depending on you for emotional support?”
“I shouldn’t have told you any of this,” he says.
“Sorry—I didn’t mean that about the emotional support. I’m sure you’ve been terrific. And I’m sorry I’m missing your graduation. Mom’s promised to take tons of pictures. Dad bought a new video camera. Hey, maybe they could stay in L.A. until the baby is born.”
“You’re starting to make me crazy. I have to study now. It would suck if Mom and Dad show up and I don’t graduate.”
“Yeah,” Subhra says. “I can hear Mom screaming from here. I think I’m going to tell them about the you-know-what. Bye.”
She hangs up before he can protest.
***
Heterodoxy and orthodoxy and heresy. Not exactly a jolly good time. But he studies for two hours straight, no breaks. Not for TV or Facebook, and only one visit today to YouTube to watch Fractured Fairy Tales (“Leaping Beauty,” very funny). But now he’s hunkered down, his brain feels sharp, he’s focused—he’s going to ace this, make Mr. Bryant eat his A. Fuck you, Professor Asshat.
Laurie doesn’t interrupt him. She seems to know when he’s seriously studying versus when he’s studying and desperate for distraction. What’s her life going to be like when the baby comes? He’s asked her if she’s worried about how her life will change.
“Sometimes it feels scary,” she says. “The responsibility.”
“Yeah. We did that thing in high school, where you carry a sack of flour around for a week like it’s a baby, and it was really hard.”
“How did you do?”
Jack hesitates. “I left my flour baby in my locker one night.”
Laurie looks at Jack. Oh well. Good-bye manny job. “My friend Drew used his flour baby as a football,” Jack says. “He failed. I got a B-minus because even though I left it in my locker, I fed it most of the time. Some flour babies starved.”
Laurie smiles. “I hope I don’t do that. But suppose I feed Buddy too much? And how do I sleep at night when I’m worrying about SIDS?” She takes a deep breath. “Or suppose Alan never comes home.”
“He’s coming home,” Jack says.
“How do you know?”
“Because he’s having a baby.” Simple answer. That seems to satisfy Laurie. A little.
***
His final is in two days. He maps out his study plan and tacks it to the bulletin board above Alan’s desk. Megan texts words of encouragement. “U will ACE this!” �
�U R a SCHOLAR ROCK STAR!”
He’s ordered his graduation gown and tried it on for Laurie. She tells him he looks “quite the professional.” He wishes he knew what kind of professional he’ll turn out to be.
If he’d known months ago he’d finally be graduating and having a baby, he would’ve said that was bullshit. But here he is—a soon-to-be graduate and a father. Who knew?
***
When Laurie goes to Trader Joe’s, he loads the dishwasher. Afterward, he walks into the baby’s room. The changing table is ready to go, baby wipes and diapers handy. The sea creature mobile is hooked on the crib rail, and Jack pushes the button to make it spin. It plays “Under the Sea” from The Little Mermaid. Everything in the room is waiting for the baby—stuffed animals on a shelf on the wall, a diaper pail that smells vaguely sweet, like cherry. The room feels cozy and comfortable—a room version of a womb. The transition won’t be too tough for Buddy, Jack hopes.
But Jack is wasting time; he’s got studying to do. He’d really like to take a nap, but as Margery Kempe would say, “As for patience, it is worth far more than the working of miracles.”
Delivery
Everyone at the hospital is friendly and efficient—another day at the baby delivery office, Laurie thinks. It’s like working at a car wash—a car pulls in, gets soaped up, a good scrub, a rinse, dried off, the car drives away, another one arrives.
But this is my life, we’re not talking about a clean car. I’m having a baby, she wants to say to the nurses. Do you know what I’ve gone through? Now something miraculous and extraordinary and impossibly astonishing is about to happen. Look at me, I’m in labor, I’m bringing my child into the world. I am not a car.
“I know you’re not a car,” Jack says, and Laurie realizes she’s said the last part out loud. “How do you feel?” he asks her.
“Like I’m having a baby. Did Alan call?”
Expecting: A Novel Page 24