I'm Your Man

by Timothy James Beck

  “They’re lying,” Martin said. “It’s me.”

  “You’re all wrong. Faizah’s Gretchen’s baby-daddy,” Faizah said.

  “Back off, Amazon queen,” Gwendy said.

  “Really. I’m the father,” I said, laughing because it was true, but nobody would believe it now.

  When Gretchen held up her hand, we all held our collective breath and waited to hear her answer. She inhaled deeply and said, “I think my water just broke.”

  “Oh, my god,” Martin said. “What a cliché.”

  CHAPTER 17

  She was one month old, and as I rested on the bed next to her, I realized that the past four weeks were a blur. I tried to make linear sense of it, but all I got were images. I could barely remember The Robby and Rhonda Show, but I never was into drama, and that day was over the top—both the show and Gretchen’s sensational exit from it.

  My most vivid memory of the day my baby was born was how amazing Gwendy had been. Calm, funny, and strong. Both of us stayed with Gretchen during labor, and any resentment or anxiety I’d felt about Gwendy disintegrated when I saw how tactfully she managed to support Gretchen without making me feel extraneous. Both of them laughed at me after the baby finally made her entrance into the world and I stood there speechless at the realization that my son was a daughter.

  Looking at her now, it was hard to remember that I’d spent nine months certain she was a boy. She was exactly who she should be; I wouldn’t change a thing. The day after she was born, with Gwendy and me flanking the bed, Gretchen looked up from nursing her and said, “As lovely as the name is, I’m afraid I can’t inflict her with Civil Liberty. Any thoughts, Blaine?”

  “I only had a boy’s name picked out,” I admitted.

  “Some boys’ names work for girls,” Gwendy said. “What was it?”

  “Rex Stetson,” I said. Gwendy looked confused, and after Gretchen recovered from her laughing fit, I said more seriously, “Kenneth.”

  “For Ken,” Gretchen said, looking down at our daughter. “That would have been sweet, Blaine. But I’m not naming our daughter Kenneth. Ken’s been on my mind a lot, though. He and I used to talk about names, back when we thought we’d be doing this together.”

  “Did you ever agree on a girl’s name?” I asked.

  Gretchen nodded and said, “Emily. He said it was feminine and traditional and might protect her from some of the craziness of life with me as her mother. I’m sure he could never have imagined how unconventional her conception, birth, and family were going to be. Lucky child.”

  The three of us looked at the baby, then Gwendy and I met each other’s eyes. It was clear she was biting her tongue, and I grinned at her.

  “I like the name ‘Emily,’ ” I said.

  “Emily Dunhill Schmidt,” Gwendy suggested.

  Gretchen looked at the two of us and said, “We’re all in agreement?” When we nodded, she smiled. “I hope that’s a sign of things to come. Maybe not such a lucky baby. It won’t be easy growing up with three strong-willed, stubborn parents.”

  “I’m sure she’ll be the alpha infant in no time,” Gwendy said.

  It is true that there is something tyrannical about babies. They determine the schedule, mood, and activities of a household. I knew it was tougher on Gretchen and Gwendy, who were with her all the time. Although I saw Emily every day, I didn’t live with her. I could go home and sleep through the night. I could go about my daily schedule, losing myself in work or the gym or the other activities of my normal, adult world.

  The biggest change in my life was that Emily’s existence buffered me. I had no idea if anyone was still talking about Daniel and Blaine, Supercouple, or if there had been any fallout from The Robby and Rhonda Show. I didn’t know what movies were being rushed to the screen in time to be Oscar contenders. For the first time in my professional memory, I had no idea how much Super Bowl commercials were going to cost. The final outcome of the presidential election barely registered with me, although I was sure my friends were in shock.

  It was actually my friends who helped keep me out of touch. Along with Gavin, Violet, Lillith, and Frank, they were letting me take a vacation from the world on Emily’s behalf. I could focus on my work while I was in the office, then I either went to Gretchen’s or to the gym and then Gretchen’s. Gwendy and I pampered “our two girls,” as she called them, cooking, taking care of household duties, or making sure visitors didn’t wear them out.

  There were a lot of visitors. Gretchen’s father came from Pennsylvania to meet his only grandchild. I liked him; it was easy to see that he was the reason for Gretchen’s down-to-earth, sensible attitude. Years before, she’d been at odds with her family, but began visiting them after her mother became ill. By the time her mother died, they’d made peace. Mr. Schmidt didn’t ask many questions about Gwendy and me. He seemed satisfied with the knowledge that his grandbaby was going to be well loved.

  If my family knew about the baby, I had no indication of it. That was fine with me. Emily would have her Cousin Nick to represent the best of the Dunhills. He loved his new school and was coming into his own in New York. He sometimes joined me at the Tribeca loft, doing his homework while the rest of us treated Emily like she was better than Must See TV. Even though he affected teenage indifference, I often caught him watching me when I held Emily and talked to her. On those nights, I’d insist that we walk home instead of taking a cab, eager to give him my undivided attention while he talked about whatever came into his head.

  One night after Gretchen teased me about Emily’s gender, Nick was quiet on our walk. We were waiting for a light to change when he finally said, “Does it bother you that you had a girl? Did you think it was a boy because that’s what you wanted?”

  I redid his scarf to provide better protection against the winter chill and said, “It doesn’t bother me. After all, I got my son, too, didn’t I?”

  He rolled his eyes, but when he turned his head to step forward as the light changed, I saw his pleased smile. I, myself, was grinning like an idiot. The next day, he and Gavin helped me put a baby bed together, although Gretchen wouldn’t allow Gwendy or me more than a five-minute walk with Emily, and then only if the sun was shining. I had no idea when my daughter would be allowed to come to my apartment, which was supplied with everything she could possibly need. The baby bed sat in my room as a reminder that I needed more space. I’d promised Violet and Gavin that we could resume the apartment search after the new year.

  Sheila adored Emily and visited her often, bringing Josh and his camera so that every nuance of my daughter’s waking and sleeping moments could be captured for posterity. Adam and Jeremy also visited when they were in town for the holidays. I knew that Martin came, too, but only during the day, when he was sure that I’d be at work. I did run into Blythe one night, smiling when she explained that the pastel pink streak among her magenta strands of hair was in honor of Emily’s birth.

  Frank liked to drop by a couple of evenings a week, bringing Rowdy, who would lie at the feet of whoever happened to be holding Emily. On a night that one of Frank’s visits coincided with Sheila’s and Josh’s, Josh snapped a picture of Frank and Emily that I loved. She was holding tightly to one of his fingers, staring up at him as if spellbound. I had that one matted and framed, keeping it on my desk at work. Every time I looked at it, I was reminded of how I’d realized at Sheila’s wedding that families were often what we created from the best parts of our lives.

  Lillith, of course, had her own retinue of people who needed to be involved. Fortunately, Emily’s mothers found humor in the smudging, aura fluffing, charting, and blessings that Lillith deemed necessary. The most profound of these events occurred when my daughter was two weeks old. I’d just finished filling the dishwasher when Gwendy took a call and handed me the phone.

  “I’m sorry for doing this to you,” Ethan said, “but would it be okay if I stopped by with a couple of friends? It’s a necessary step to restore harmony to the universe.�
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  I was intrigued by the amusement in his voice, and after clearing it with Gretchen and Gwendy, I gave him the go-ahead. A half hour later, he entered Gretchen’s loft with Bonnie and Lillith, looking altogether too satisfied with himself.

  “Where is that precious angel?” Lillith asked, and she and Bonnie practically ran over each other in their attempt to be the first to reach the sofa, where Emily was sleeping on Gretchen’s lap.

  “Beast,” I said to Ethan.

  “I apologized in advance,” he reminded me.

  Bonnie managed to claim the space next to Gretchen on the sofa, so Lillith sat on the coffee table, saying, “Bonnie and I have a gift for your daughter. Ethan?”

  He shrugged off his coat, pulled a black velvet pouch from his pocket, and walked across the room to them. Both women reached for the pouch, but he held it away from them with a stern look and handed it to Gretchen. Gwendy and I walked behind the sofa to watch as Gretchen untied the silk cords and pulled out a pendant hanging from a thick copper chain.

  “The amulet,” Bonnie breathed, her eyes glittering.

  “The stone is lapis,” Lillith said. “It traveled between our families from prehistoric times, providing protection, before it ended up in Egypt, where it was set in faience, which is a ceramic. The sheen comes from a copper glaze. It’s thousands of years old, Gretchen.”

  “I can’t possibly—”

  “We know it’s not the kind of thing you want lying around the house,” Bonnie said, cutting Gretchen off. “It’s priceless. It’s also caused quite a bit of controversy over the centuries. With your permission, Gretchen—”

  “And Blaine,” Lillith said.

  “And Blaine,” Bonnie concurred, “we want to donate it to the Metropolitan Museum’s Egyptian Art collection. The placard will state that it’s the gift of Emily Dunhill Schmidt, daughter of Gretchen Schmidt and Blaine Dunhill.”

  “But we’ve also commissioned a replica, which Emily can keep for her own protection, and pass down to her descendants,” Lillith said.

  “Thank you; Emily and I accept,” Gretchen said.

  “I’m honored,” I said. I didn’t believe in their past-life nonsense for a minute. I suspected they’d seen the piece—and each other—for the first time at some gem show and tried to outbid each other for it. After the fact, one of them had no doubt invented an ancient feud to justify her greed, and the other had followed her lead. I met Ethan’s laughing eyes and asked, “What I really want to know is, where did it turn up? Who had it?”

  “That,” said Ethan, “is a story I will carry to my grave.” The grateful looks Lillith and Bonnie cast his way made me certain that his position as their spiritual sovereign was guaranteed for life. At least this lifetime.

  Louis and Joyce Stephenson flew in from Wisconsin for a few days before Christmas. It was obvious that they regarded Emily as their grandchild, which gave me a pang. She could have been theirs through Daniel and me. Instead, she was theirs through Gwendy and Gretchen. They’d taken Nick with them when they returned to Wisconsin, but he flew back to New York immediately after Christmas, seeming none the worse for having spent time with his family.

  As for Daniel, I knew he hadn’t seen Emily because Gretchen would have told me. Nobody talked about him when I was around. I didn’t know if they were uncomfortable or didn’t want me to be uncomfortable. I let it slide, appreciating the break from a year’s worth of roller coaster experiences and emotions where he was concerned.

  “You’ll love Daniel,” I whispered to Emily as she lay sleeping. “He’s Gwendy’s big brother, so I guess he’s your uncle. But he’s your father, too. He was with me the day you were started.”

  I wondered if Emily would ever know or understand the way she came to be. Maybe by the time she was old enough to hear it, no one would be having babies the old-fashioned way. It was overwhelming to think about the world my child had inherited and how it might change in her lifetime.

  I looked up as Gwendy came into the room to check on us. “You’re not asleep either?” she asked. “Gretchen tried to doze, but I think she has cabin fever.”

  “I do not,” Gretchen said, walking in to sit on the bed next to us.

  I sat up to give her more room and said, “You both look exhausted. You’re supposed to catch up on your sleep when she naps.”

  “I can’t believe it’s snowing again,” Gretchen said. “Ten inches brought in the new year—”

  “Not in front of the baby!” I gasped.

  “Hush. We don’t have ten inches of anything around here but snow,” Gwendy said.

  “You don’t know what you’re missing,” I said.

  “I know you’re shy of ten by several inches,” Gwendy said.

  “If you’re going to disparage my manhood—”

  “Oh, what’s it like to be outside in the snow?” Gretchen moaned. “Any other time, I’d be out walking in it, getting into a snowball fight, enjoying it before it turns to slush.”

  “Then do it,” I said. “Here you are, with the woman you love. The city’s blanketed in white. The two of you should go out and play. Stop somewhere for hot chocolate. Talk about legal briefs and quarterly taxes, or whatever it is you talk about when Emily isn’t dominating you. Take a break. I’m here.”

  “I wouldn’t get ten feet from the door before I’d be overcome by separation anxiety,” Gretchen said.

  “It’s true,” Gwendy said. “I’ve tried to send her out for walks, Blaine. She won’t go.”

  “Sounds like it’s time for me to put my paternal foot down. In fact, I’ll make it harder for you to run back. Let me take Emily to my place for a couple of hours.”

  Gretchen put her hands around her throat as if she were strangling and said, “Stop. I can’t.”

  “You stocked my place with everything I’d need,” I said. “I’ll take bottles of your expressed milk. Emily can travel in the sling, under my coat, dressed in warm clothes. Traffic is light. Cabs have been ordered by the city to drive slowly. We’ll be buckled up and safe. You can take your cell phone and call if you panic. And I can call you if I need anything.”

  Gretchen’s eyes filled with tears, and she said, “You think I’m neurotic, don’t you?”

  “I think you’ve got baby blues,” I said. “Come on. How many Manhattan babies have two residences? It’s time Emily found out about the dynasty she was born into.”

  “You call that dump you live in—”

  “If I remember correctly, you once told me it was a great apartment. So it’s a little crowded right now. She won’t mind. She already knows Nick and Gavin. It’s time she met Dexter.”

  “That ought to make her eager to come back home,” Gwendy said. “He’s the ugliest cat I’ve ever seen.”

  “He has character,” I argued.

  “And really bad breath,” Gretchen said.

  “And bad hair,” Gwendy added. “Sounds like my senior prom date.”

  “You went to the prom with a guy?” Gretchen asked. “I actually went with a girl.”

  “See all the things you don’t know about each other? You need quality time alone. Emily and I are going to Blaine Manor.”

  Gretchen took a deep breath and said, “Okay. I’ll do it. But only two hours. Promise me. And you’ll call if—”

  “I promise.”

  It was an hour before they finally put us into a cab, satisfied that I had every possible thing I could need for the drive home. I glanced back to see Gretchen standing forlornly on the curb, staring after us as we drove away. Then Gwendy put an arm around her, and the two of them turned to trudge down the sidewalk. Gretchen’s arm slid around Gwendy’s waist as they walked, and I smiled. They looked sweet together.

  I felt like an idiot carrying the diaper bag when I stepped into the deli after the cab dropped me off. Since no one could see that there was a baby under my coat, it looked like I was carrying a hideously unstylish, oversized pastel purse. I really had to find Gretchen something more chic before sh
e started venturing out with Emily. This one had been a gift from somebody.

  “Mr. Blaine,” Amir called from behind the counter. “How are you today?”

  “I’m great,” I said. I unbuttoned my coat and said, “Come meet my daughter, Emily.”

  I was gratified by the way everything ground to a halt as Amir and assorted relatives examined Emily and congratulated me.

  “You shouldn’t have her out in this weather,” Amir scolded.

  “I’m going home,” I promised. “I thought I should take a treat for Dexter to fend off sibling rivalry.”

  “I’ll wrap some tuna for you,” Amir said, hurrying behind the counter.

  “Blaine.”

  I turned, startled, to face Daniel. His eyes were riveted to Emily, who continued to sleep against my chest. His preoccupation gave me a chance to study him. In spite of the color the cold air had given his cheeks, he looked tired. It made my heart hurt.

  “Would you like to hold her?” I finally asked.

  He met my eyes and said, “I can’t. The show’s taping scenes in the park today, and I need to get back.”

  “That explains the red snow gear,” I said.

  He smiled faintly and said, “Cressida is going to be missing after an avalanche. Of course, everyone will suspect that Angus caused it.”

  “It’ll be the first time the snow up Jane-Therese’s nose didn’t come from South America,” I said.

  He gave a surprised laugh and said, “You’re right. Funny, Blaine.”

  “I have my moments. Emily, wake up and watch Uncle Daniel trying to hide those cigarettes so I won’t know he’s smoking again.”

  “Just now and then,” Daniel said. “She looks so tiny against your chest.”

  “She’d look even smaller if Gretchen and Gwendy hadn’t layered her in so many clothes.”

  “I keep meaning to . . . but I wasn’t sure . . .”

  “They’d love to see you,” I said, adding tactfully, “Christmas sort of slipped by all of us, but things have settled down now.”