He turned, swiping a paper towel from its roll. “Better than ever.”
“You say that every time you’re here,” Dad pointed out.
“It’s true,” I said.
He nodded. “That’s what I like to hear.”
Manning balled up the towel. “I’ve been thinking of branching out a little. Maybe trying to get a crew together to look into some construction jobs around town.”
I drew my eyebrows together. “I didn’t know that.”
“I’ve mentioned it,” he said, still addressing my dad. “I’m only now getting serious about it.”
“But you love making furniture.”
“Doesn’t mean I can’t be a contractor, too.” He glanced at me and then away. “Having help has opened up opportunities.”
I didn’t doubt that, but why hadn’t I heard about this until now? Before I could push the issue, my dad said, “I think it’s smart. Time to scale. That’s how you’ll make the real money.”
“We do very well,” I said to my dad. “Manning’s already making more than he did when he worked for you.”
“You don’t say?” Dad clapped his hands together. “The calls for a celebratory drink. What’re you having, Manning? Robby’s drinking a ‘mimosa’ because apparently, Tiffany is engaged to a sorority sister.”
Manning straightened his back, his chest out. “I picked up a bottle of Booker’s on the way in, sir.”
I stifled a laugh thinking of Manning’s earlier comment about not wanting to be a pushover. “Tiffany’s here?” I asked. “She said she didn’t want a dog.”
“That’s not true,” Tiffany called from the den. “I want one, but Robby’s allergic.”
I left the kitchen. The puppies were already zooming around my dad’s favorite recliner, where a nine-month pregnant Tiffany sat. I’d never seen my sister with such naturally rosy, full cheeks. “Wow,” I said, standing in the doorway. “You really do have that pregnant woman’s glow.”
“I know—I’m a heifer. I look ten months pregnant. I don’t know what to do about it.”
“What can you do, sweetie?” Robby asked from the couch, where he’d huddled against one of the arms. He waved his champagne glass at me. “Afternoon, Lake.”
“Hi, Robby. You’re allergic to dogs?”
“Some,” he said, glancing around the room. “I really shouldn’t stay long. I just didn’t want Tiffany driving.”
“I can drive fine,” she said. “Will you get me some water, honey?”
“Sure.” Robby stood, smiling at me on his way to the kitchen. “Isn’t she glowing?”
I took his spot on the couch to be close to my sister. “How are you feeling?”
“Annoyed,” she said. “I might actually be willing to ditch Robby and his allergies for a puppy.”
“You don’t mean that,” I said. “I’ve never seen you so in love.”
“I was until week twenty-five,” she said, palming her belly. “Now I hate his guts.”
“Oh, please.” I crossed my arms. “I’m sure he’s been nothing but wonderful.”
“Too wonderful. I can’t get five minutes alone. Do you think you could sneak one of these dogs into our car?”
Before I could respond, Val walked in, squealing when she nearly tripped over Tweedledum chasing his tail. “Oh my God,” she said, bowing her legs to dance around him. In a floppy wool hat and plaid top tied at her belly button, she hooked her thumbs in her belt loops and jigged. “Did I die and go to heaven? Which one is mine?”
“They haven’t officially been assigned yet,” I said, laughing at her. “Except maybe the female. I think she’s attached to my dad. In fact, I haven’t seen her in a few minutes.”
She glanced at her reflection in the black TV screen, adjusting her hat. “I saw Manning in your dad’s study with a dog when I came in.”
“Great.” I rolled my eyes. “They’ll be in there all day. Where’s Corbin?”
“Talking to your mom and Gary.” Val scooped a puppy off the ground and flopped onto the couch next to me. She paused when she noticed Tiffany. “Holy shit. Is it supposed to be that big?”
Tiffany did her best to cover her stomach—which meant basically resting her hands at the crest of it. “Yes. No. I don’t know. Robby says it’s normal, and he’s a doctor.”
“I thought he was an acupuncturist.”
“I never said that,” Tiffany snapped. “He’s a board-certified physician and one of the top pediatricians in Orange—”
“Tiffany, she’s messing with you,” I said. “Just like she always does.”
“Sorry. I can’t help it.” Val sparred with Dum, who kept biting her fingers. “I can be annoyingly sarcastic sometimes. I use humor as a defense mechanism.”
Tiffany and I blinked at her. “What?” I asked.
“I think she’s doing the sarcasm thing again,” Tiffany said out of the side of her mouth.
“I’m not.” Val shrugged. “I’ve been doing a lot of introspection lately. And talking. Corbin and I talk a lot. You’d think we’d have run out of topics after sixteen years of friendship, but nope.”
“And he said you use humor as a defense mechanism?” I asked. “That doesn’t sound like him.”
“No, I figured that out on my own when I was ten, Lake. It’s not rocket science. Corbin doesn’t like when I make too many jokes during serious discussions, though.” She sat back, staring at Tiffany’s stomach. “Some jokes are fine. But anyway. Enough about me. Is it painful?”
“Is what painful?” I asked.
“That.” Val pointed at Tiffany. “You look like an overripe tomato.”
Tiffany pushed herself up as much as she could in the lounger. “It’s mostly uncomfortable. Like, unbearably uncomfortable. There are things happening in my body—and coming out of it—I don’t even know how to describe.”
Val paled. “Gross.”
I smacked her arm. “Pregnancy is a completely natural and beautiful time for a woman.”
“Does Robby help?” Val asked, rubbing her bicep.
“As much as possible. Since he has to work a lot, he’s always sending me to the salon to get my hair blown out, or for pedicures. I mean, they’re a complete waste because I can’t even see my feet. I only go so they’ll massage them.”
Val blinked a few times. “But it doesn’t hurt?”
“Not really,” Tiffany said. “It feels funny when she kicks.”
Val’s back went straight as a rod. “It’s a girl?”
“Yep. Thank God,” Tiffany added. “I mean, either would’ve been fine, but now I get to buy her cute outfits.”
“Lake, why didn’t you tell me?” Val asked.
“I . . .” I studied Val. She had to have some angle for being nice to Tiffany, but I couldn’t figure out what it was. “I didn’t know you’d care?”
“Have you picked a name?” Val asked.
“Not yet.”
“Have you at least narrowed it down?” I asked. “Last time we talked, you had a list of forty or so ideas.”
“I tossed them all. Every single one.” Tiffany rolled her neck, stretching it side to side. “Nothing sounds right so far.”
“How about naming her after Grandma Dolores?” I teased, knowing Tiffany hated the name.
Val made a gagging noise. “Oh, God.”
“Hey,” I said, scoffing at her. “You know my middle name is Dolly after my grandma.”
“No, it’s not that,” she said, swallowing audibly as she moved Dum off her lap. Her complexion hadn’t warmed, and she did look a little pasty.
“Are you okay?” I asked.
“I was thinking about the whole process—getting pregnant, carrying it around for nine months, and then this like, thing comes shooting out of your vagina like a football.” Val shuddered. “How is that normal?”
“At least you aren’t a dog. Blue had this thing we call a ‘water sac’ hanging out of her vulva for an hour before she pushed out five sticky little puppies in
a row—”
“I think I’m really going to be sick,” Val said, dropping her head between her knees.
“Geez.” I leaned down to put the back of my hand against her clammy forehead. “What’s the matter?”
“Should I get Robby?” Tiffany asked.
“No. I’m fine.” Val shook her head. “I mean, I’m not, but I’m not supposed to say anything—but who cares, right?” She sat up again. “I’m freaking out, Lake. Can you tell? Like really freaking out.”
I’d never seen Val so frazzled, and I’d been with her at her worst. “How come?”
“I took a . . . ugh.” She removed her hat to fan herself, her spiral curls flapping with the breeze. “I should probably wait for Corbin to announce this.”
“I’m here,” he said from the doorway between the den and kitchen. He smiled at Val. “Go ahead, babe.”
“But it’s less than twelve weeks,” she said. “Isn’t that bad luck?”
I dropped my jaw. It wasn’t possible. As far as I knew, Val didn’t even want kids. But apparently, that was becoming the quickest path to have them. “You’re . . .?”
She nodded. “Pregnant.”
I should’ve squealed with joy, or leapt up to hug my two best friends, or even acknowledged what she’d said. Instead, I stared at her with an open mouth. I didn’t see her as Val right then, the girl who’d befriended me when I’d needed someone in my corner. The one who’d always pushed me to be the best version of myself, even when I was at my worst. My best friend in the entire world. I only saw another person who’d gotten something she hadn’t even wanted—something I’d wanted. And all I could think was . . .
Are you fucking kidding me?
15
Val twisted her hands in her lap, rushing out an explanation, as if she felt guilty. “I don’t know if I’m pregnant for sure. I missed my period, so I took a test and it was positive.” She shifted on the couch. “But we haven’t been to a doctor yet. It could be a false alarm.”
“Oh my God, come by Robby’s office,” Tiffany said. “Our kids will be friends. Even if we’re not!”
“It was an accident,” Val said to me as if she needed to explain. “Corbin and I are still getting to know each other.”
“You’ve known each other forever,” I said, my voice sounding distant and foreign even to my own ears.
“Not this way. We’ve only been dating a year and a half.” She and Corbin exchanged a look. “I’m not ready, I know I’ll fuck it up—I mean, I just said fuck and Tiffany’s baby probably heard it through her stomach—she has ears by now, right?” She paused, as if expecting one of us to answer. “I don’t even know,” she continued, “because I’m completely clueless about this kind of stuff. Oh my God. I’ll be a terrible mom.”
“I’m not worried,” Corbin said, tucking his hair behind his ear with a shrug. “We’re going to be killer parents, Val.”
The calm confidence in Corbin’s voice should’ve soothed all of us, but Val still looked sick. And me? My palms were getting clammy, too. Was I supposed to feel better that this was an accident? Because somehow, that seemed worse. She didn’t even want this baby. But I did, and so did Manning, and we’d been through a lot. We needed this. We had ways of molding the universe to meet our demands, so why couldn’t we do it? How was that fair?
Was there anyone who didn’t get knocked up at the drop of a hat? At this rate, the people in my life were going to overpopulate the entire west coast.
“You going to ralph again?” Corbin asked Val.
She shook her head. “I think it’s passing.”
“I’ll get you a ginger ale,” he said, heading for the kitchen.
Val kept looking at me as if gauging my reaction. This wasn’t about me. It wasn’t. It couldn’t be. She hadn’t done this to hurt me, but it sure felt that way. I moved my hand, which felt about fifty pounds, and put it on her knee. “Don’t worry. You’re going to be great. And new moms are supposed to fuck up, so you’re basically a natural.”
“You better decide if you’re getting married now or after,” Tiffany said. “You don’t want to look like I do on the most important day of your life.”
“We’re not getting married,” she said.
Tiffany wrinkled her nose. “Ever?”
“Ever.” Dee and Dum ran circles around the couch, stopping every few seconds to whine at us. “It’s a dumb tradition. No offense, but it’s not for me.”
“I want to be a wife as much as I do a mom,” Tiffany said, shrugging. “But whatever. I guess Lake is the only one doing it the right way.”
Yet I’d been the only one ready and willing—and actively trying—to do it out of order. “There’s no right or wrong way,” I said quietly.
“Corbin was such a playboy for so long,” Tiffany said. “I can’t picture him as a dad.”
“Me neither,” Val said.
I could. Corbin had been ready to shed the bachelor life years ago, and from what I’d seen firsthand at Young Cubs and heard about baseball camp, he had a way with kids. Just like Manning. Manning—where was he? He would find out about this, and what would he think? How could he hear Val was pregnant and have any other reaction than to wonder why I wasn’t? How much longer until he started to question what was wrong with his wife?
I breathed through my nose to regulate my heartbeat. I couldn’t stop staring at Dum as he gnawed and tugged on Val’s pant leg. I was a bad friend. I should’ve been more excited for Val, or probed into the fears I knew she harbored about marriage, or made her admit she could see Corbin as a dad, because she’d definitely lied about that. But I couldn’t bring myself to do anything but feel sorry for myself.
“I better take the dogs out again,” I said, needing fresh air as much as a moment to myself. Somehow, I managed to stand on stiff legs. “My mom’ll have a fit if they pee on the new rug.”
“Want me to do it?” Val asked, bending down for Dum. “I mean, let’s be honest, I think this one is mine.”
“No,” I exclaimed, snatching him before Val could. He wasn’t hers. Not yet. “I’ll only be a second. Sit with Tiff in case her water breaks or something.”
“Not in your father’s favorite chair,” my mom called from the kitchen.
Tiffany scoffed. “You’re putting me on labor watch? I can’t get a second alone as it is.”
Val tilted her head at me. “Are you okay?” she asked, her expression dripping with pity.
“Totally. I’m so happy for you.” I smiled, leaning over to hug her as the puppy squirmed between us. “I just can’t believe it. Congratulations. I’m . . . so happy for you.”
I was losing the ability to hold myself together, repeating myself and fighting off tears. I turned to leave so fast, I almost mowed over Corbin. “Whoa-a-a,” he said, stumbling back.
“Sorry,” I muttered, dodging around him. I whistled for the other puppies. Lady bounded out of my dad’s study and met us at the back door. When I let them loose and set Dum down, they went galloping across the backyard as I latched the pool gate. I went around the side of the house to get plastic bags from the recycling bin, then returned to sit on a short wall hiding the pool pump.
Tweedledee and Tweedledum tussled, somersaulting around the grass. Was this my future? Seeing my sister, cousins, friends, acquaintances through their pregnancies? Hiding my gynecologist visits from my husband? Raising Blue’s litters? If so, maybe we didn’t need to spay her after all. Would these puppies be my only babies? And here I was, giving them away.
“I’m concerned you’re infertile, Mrs. Sutter. Based on the information you provided and the cysts I found, it appears to be endometriosis. Let’s discuss your next steps.”
Just remembering my doctor running through our options, my uterus ached. I pressed my hand against my lower abdomen, trying to ease the throb. I thought back to all the times I’d asked Manning to love me. Choose me. It never occurred to me I might not be able to give him a family.
The backdoor opened and cl
osed behind me. I kept my eyes on the dogs and tried to muster a smile. Otherwise, Manning would start asking questions—but it turned out to be Corbin who’d come looking for me.
He handed me a can of ginger ale. “You looked a little sick yourself.”
“Thanks,” I said, flicking the tab.
“Are you pregnant, too?” He sat on the wall. “Because that would be pretty dope if you guys had babies at the same time.”
“No.” I opened the can and took a long fizzy sip that made my nose tingle. In the silence that followed, I realized how curtly I’d answered him. “But I’m so happy for you guys.”
“You said that already. A few times.” He bumped me with his shoulder. “Is there some reason you wouldn’t be happy?”
I peered into the can as if it held all the answers. “Of course not.”
“Yeah, because this kid is practically yours. You’ll be like its second mom.”
“I know.” I smiled thinking about how the baby would surely come out tan and blond like his or her mom and dad. It was a warm, sunshine-filled thought until reality came crashing down. Manning’s son or daughter probably would’ve been the opposite. Dark. Pensive. A presence that turned your head.
“You okay?” Corbin asked, rubbing my back.
I tried to answer, but my throat was too tight. I shook my head, forming a fist against my thigh.
“This isn’t about us, is it?” he asked. “Haven’t you and Manning talked about kids? Is he being a dick about it?”
“No. It’s not that. We’re ready.”
“Are you scared?”
“No more than any normal person would be.” I would be a natural mom. I’d always felt that way, which was why not being able to get pregnant seemed so wrong to me. I rubbed my nose. “I’m not scared, actually.”
“Then what is it?”
I toed the grass with my Converse. Though Manning and I had acknowledged here and there that pregnancy was taking longer than we’d expected, I hadn’t talked to anyone but my doctor about the endometriosis. “I don’t know.”
Lake - Manning Page 15