by Julia Kent
“I don’t know,” Laura said, “but look at what being stubborn got me. The guys missed out on the entire second trimester—hell, almost two thirds of my pregnancy—because I was a stupid, stupid idiot. I don’t want to see you do that.”
“Well, I’m not pregnant.”
Laura sighed, shook her head, and rubbed her eyes. “No, you’re not pregnant, and no, it’s not the same. You didn’t sit there and watch yourself be humiliated on national tel—well, on local television, and find out the two guys that you’re sleeping with were both billionaires. I was stubborn because they kept a secret from me, and it was wrong of both of…of all three of us. Ugh, I still don’t have a vocabulary for the fact that there are three of us,” she muttered, laughing to herself. “But the bottom line is that I let my pride get in the way. I let my insecurity, too, get in the way of the greatest love that I could everhope to find, and Iwant youto learn from my mistake. I do not want to see you do this to yourself, Josie.”
Leave it to Laura to say the one thing that could crack her fucking wall. “You know, I hate you,” Josie said.
“I know, it’s because I make sense.”
“Now I hate you more, for saying that, because you’re right,” she said, slamming her hand against the tabletop, just as Mike and Dylan returned with a freshly changed baby.
“But there’s something I still don’t understand,” she said, her mind spinning, trying to find the right formula of words to make the equation balance as the guys settled down, the baby half asleep already. “How is it that you—what exactly…” She stumbled through her own thought process, trying to say it aloud.
Just then, Madge interrupted them. “Dessert?”
Laura groaned. “Oh, God.”
“What?”
“I’m not pregnant anymore so I don’t have an excuse.” She patted her belly. She still looked pregnant—at least, Josie thought so, though she’d never say a word. Then again, it took a while for organs to shift and move, and some women held on to weight when it came to breastfeeding. It didn’t detract from Laura’s natural glow and she was slowly regaining that gait that she had, a self-possession and femininity that Josie could never emulate.
“How about we get two desserts and split them?” Dylan suggested, wolfing down the rest of his food.
“Oh, I like that idea! A gradual transition down.” Laura perked up. “What should we get?”
“We have a nice caramel pistachio cheesecake today,” Madge said. “And then there’s the rhubarb maple cheesecake.”
“It’s cheesecake day?”
“No, we just happen to have some of these.”
“Anything else?” Mike asked.
“Well there’s a turmeric-infused candied pecan—”
“Stop there.” Dylan held his hand up. “Is it cheesecake?”
“Yup.”
“I vote for that as one of them. All in favor say ‘aye.’”
Three “ayes” rang out into the air.
“How about two of those?”
Everyone nodded.
“Two slices of that.”
“So, Josie, get back to what you were asking. I like watching you be awkward.”
“Ha ha,” she snapped back. The distraction had rattled her, so she just blurted it out. “How did you know that it was okay to just be together without being together sexually?”
Mike choked on his coffee, Dylan reaching over to whack him in the back hard, repeatedly, as the guy coughed and rumbled.
“That’s awfully direct.”
“And having Alex walk in on your—”
“Okay, okay, I gotcha. I gotcha,” Dylan said, holding his hand up. “I’ll answer.”
“Thanks,” Mike croaked out, trying to recover.
“The problem with answering that question…” Dylan said, leaning back against the torn vinyl booth. “The problem with that answer is that most people don’t have a framework for why I’m about to say what I’m about to say.” His face changed and he became more serious, more introspective than Josie had ever seen in the otherwise cocky, manly man in front of her.
He looked nervously at Mike and then even more nervously at Laura, and said in one long rush of breath, “I realized that what I wanted more than anything.” He stopped. “No, not more than anything, but as much, as much as I wanted Jill…I wanted to share her with Mike.”
Mike blinked and cleared his throat, running a hand through overgrown blonde waves of hair that tickled the top of his collar. “That’s probably what those two guys are going through, Josie—the ones with your niece. That dawning that comes when you realize that there’s this ache inside you that nothing, nothing has stopped so you learn to live with it—it’s just there, like a mole or a scar or an overbite and you try all sorts of things to make it go away. You date different women, some people try dating other men—”
“Not me,” Dylan said.
“It doesn’t matter, Dylan,” Mike said. “Everyone has that ache in them. It’s not just that Dylan and me and Laura or people like us do—everyone does. But for me the moment that Jill and Dylan and I came together, I realized that I was missing something for the first time in my life. Not that I had something.”
Mike’s cool Zen demeanor shifted to a layer of excitement that made Josie lean forward in anticipation, his joie de vivre contagious. “I realized that I was missing that ache for the first time in my life. Do you know what it’s like to go through most of your adolescence and early adulthood in pain and just dealing with it? And then, one day, it’s gone. Just gone. Gone.” Slamming his palm against the tabletop just as Madge delivered the two pieces of cheesecake.
“This cheesecake’s going to be gone in about five seconds. I suggest”—she pointed straight at Laura—“you not put a plate in front of her.”
“Hey!” Laura couldn’t finish her protest because Madge had left already.
“What about you, Dylan?” Josie asked as they each grabbed a fork and dug in.
The cheesecake was perfection, carafes of a turmeric maple sauce on the side and little cruets filled with candied pecans. The first bite of cheesecake and a candied pecan in her mouth at the same time made her want to stop the conversation instantly and do nothing but have a mouth orgasm.
“Ditto,” Dylan said. “Whatever Mike said, that all applies to me.”
“Ditto? You’re talking about the most significant moment in your emotional journey through life and your answer is ‘ditto’?”
“Yup.”
“You have the depth of Justin Bieber.”
“Ouch,” Dylan said, holding his hand over his heart. “That hurt my feeling.”
“You mean it hurt my feelings.”
“No, my feeling. Remember, I’m shallow.”
Everyone at the table groaned.
Josie snatched the piece of cheesecake out of his reach. “For that, you get less.”
“That’s fine. I’ll just share with Laura.”
“No you won’t.” Laura grabbed hers.
Mike looked around with a what about me expression on his face. “What happened to sharing?”
Josie shoveled a piece of mouth-watering goodness into her mouth and answered, “You guys might be into sharing but I’m not.”
“You’ve raised an incompetent asshole with a God complex. Aren’t you proud?” Alex declared. Sipping jasmine tea, his stomach felt sour. The last time he’d eaten Thai food hadn’t gone well.
Not well at all.
Sitting with his mother in a different restaurant across town didn’t help dull the pain of the memory of his last moment with Josie in his apartment.
“I’ve done no such thing, Alex. I’ve raised a human being.”
“All too human.”
“Then I’ve done well.” She smiled,, the kind of grin that made her dimples appear. His mother’s face was unreadable, kind brown eyes so much like his trying to read him. This was the look she gave him when she was humoring him. He deserved it.
“I jus
t…how could I have screwed everything up like this?” He’d been a complete ass. In retrospect, he could see it clearly. Affected by stress at work, he’d let it spill over into his love life, biting Josie’s head off when all she’d tried to do was to help his family. To be fair, she had made it sound like she might be skirting ethical lines—no one in a double-blind study should know who was in the control group and who wasn’t. Alex wouldn’t know any more details, though, because he hadn’t even tried to reach out. No calls. No texts. Other than going for an occasional run around the park across the street from her apartment, he hadn’t gone near her.
“Alex, this isn’t you. You don’t have these sorts of neurotic insecurities. Where is this coming from?”
Josie, he thought.
“Hell if I know,” he shrugged. “Between the tough case at work and screwing everything up with Josie, I feel like the person I’ve been all these years just got a personality transplant. I don’t like questioning myself. It feels uncertain and chaotic.”
“That’s called growth.”
“Then growing sucks.”
Meribeth pulled back, brow creased with worry. “This is about Josie, isn’t it?”
“And work. And Grandpa.”
She waved her hand dismissively. “Everyone has missteps at work.”
“But I—”
“Alex!” A harsh tone came through in his hissed name. “You’re doing the grown-up equivalent of pouting when things don’t go your way. It’s really unappealing, especially on a twenty-eight-year-old professional.”
Ouch.
Right or wrong, the comment hurt. Mostly because she was right.
“A baby landed in the NICU and my professional judgment was called into question, Mom. It’s not like I’m moping because Josie wouldn’t go to the homecoming dance with me.”
“Separate the two. Which one hurts more?”
Zing!
“I don’t know.”
She reached across the table and felt his forehead. “Are you ill? Because my Alex doesn’t say ‘I don’t know’ when the answer is in front of his face. Heck, the answer could be doing a lap dance for as obvious as it is.”
“Mom!”
“You’re in love with Josie and you made a mistake.” She took a long sip of tea.
“I’m not—”
“Oh, look at the pasties!”
“The metaphor is overdone. Point taken,” he said through gritted teeth.
“I am going to guess you didn’t share what’s going on at work with her.”
He set his tea cup down with a resigned sigh. “You know, in the 1500s that ability of yours led to dunkings. Who is my real dad? A warlock?”
Meribeth howled with laughter, turning heads. “That’s the old Alex.” His comment about his “real dad” shook her, though—her certainty in dealing with him as if he were a petulant schoolboy had drained out of her. Good.
“Josie grew up without a dad, too. At least, from the age of eleven on.”
Meribeth frowned. “He took off?”
“Died. Car accident.”
“Oh, how awful.” In her trademark gesture, his mother put her splayed palm over her heart. “And her mother?”
He shook his head, picking up the tepid tea absentmindedly, forcing himself to drink it. “She didn’t talk much about her. I get the impression it’s not a good relationship.”
“Two fatherless adults trying to navigate your first real relationship.”
“Great, Mom. How high concept of you. You should pitch screenplays to Hollywood.”
She laughed, putting her hands up like a director setting a scene. “Hot ambitious doctor meets fatherless, ambitious nurse—”
“Hot, Mom?” He cocked an eyebrow and tried to suppress an embarrassed grimace.
“Where did you meet again?” Meribeth asked.
“At her friend’s birth.”
“As her friend crosses over into motherhood.” Meribeth scowled. “At her birth? Why didn’t I know this?”
“You never asked.”
“You picked someone up at a birth?”
“I’m not proud of it.”
“Her best friend’s birth?”
“Yes.”
“Your timing is…interesting. Most women would be in the room, supporting their friend.”
“The dads were there to handle that.”
“Did you just say ‘dads’? As in plural?”
“Yes.” Oh, shit. This was headed into territory he didn’t want to have to explain. Then again, it took the heat off him, so maybe he should go with it. Too bad the restaurant didn’t have a liquor license. He could use a beer or ten right now.
“Her best friend slept with two different men and they don’t know who the biological father is?”
“It’s…complicated, Mom.”
“Sounds intriguing.” She leaned forward and propped her chin in her hand. “And Josie’s friends with this woman and the dads?”
“Yes.”
“Anyone that open-minded is someone I should meet.”
“It’s a little late for that,” he said, blowing a puff of air out, trying to relax his granite shoulders. “She’s done with me. I made a horrible comment and questioned her professional ethics when she told me Grandpa needed a second opinion.”
“She was right.”
“I know.” His aunt had received a call this week—the trial was broken due to overwhelming evidence in favor of the drug. Josie had been right.
“We took Dad back in, but Josie’s gone,” Meribeth said.
“Gone?”
“They said she’s no longer employed there.”
Ice water ran through his body. Did that mean she quit? Was she fired? Had she crossed some ethical or legal lines?
“That’s all they said?”
“Yes.” Her turn to start with the one-word answers.
Rubbing his chin, he felt two days of stubble scratch against his palm. “And the new medication?”
“Dad will go on it soon. We just don’t know.” She shrugged.
“So Josie was right and I fucked everything up.”
“Everything we do can be undone.”
“Not this, Mom.”
“Everything. If you want it bad enough.” The look on her face was a blend of compassion and amusement, as if the eighteen years between them conferred some deep wisdom on her that he couldn’t access. He wanted to believe it was true, but in recent years he’d come to see that she was just as human as he was, and that it was her compassion and deep devotion to him that mattered more than any perceived wisdom. Right now he just needed someone to listen. And he knew he could always turn to her because she was, after all, Mom.
When would he let another woman in like that?
“I do.”
“That’s what you say at a wedding.”
He groaned.
“You left yourself wide open.” She chuckled.
No. I didn’t. And that’s the problem.
Darla’s number appeared on her phone as it rang. “Hello?”
“Hey there, gettin’ ready to move.”
Darla’s voice never failed to amuse Josie. After years of living in Boston, she was accused of having a Boston accent whenever she went home. Once in a while she would slip and call “Ant” Cathy “Ont” Cathy, which led to a ripple of giggles and laughs among the family. God forbid she say “rahther” and not “rather.” A host of little things, including the word “wicked” being used as an adjective, had separated her from her beginnings. Good.
“So, I’m gettin’ ready to come,” Darla said, “and I have a few questions.”
“What’s that?” Josie said.
“How big is the bedroom that I’m gonna have?”
“I don’t know…about ten by ten?” Josie was terrible with space and guesstimates.
“Wow, that’s downright luxurious,” Darla cracked.
“It’s what you get in Cambridge, and it’s probably bigger than your room back home.”<
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“Fair enough. That’s another question—I keep saying I’m moving to Boston, but I’m not…”
“No, you’re moving to Cambridge.”
“So, Cambridge is where Harvard is?”
“Yes.”
“All the snotty people live there?” Darla asked.
“Not all of them, but plenty of them.”
“And what do I need to bring with me?”
“We can get you a bed when you move here, Darla,” Josie said. “I can buy it, it’s not a problem.”
“No, I’ve got some money saved up,” Darla replied.
“You do?” Darla was notorious for spending whatever was in her pocket about as fast as she made it.
“Yes, I do.”
The defensive tone set Josie’s stomach on edge. This was the last thing she needed on a day like this, and it made her need an outlet. Darla could be the unwitting target. Laura couldn’t anymore—she was off living house, not playing it, with Mike and Dylan and the baby.
“I got some money.”
“You didn’t do anything illegal…”
“I don’t do anything illegal, Josie, you know that.”
Josie thought for a moment. “It’s the two guys, isn’t it?”
Darla could never lie to her. Finally with a big sigh, she said, “Yeeeees.”
“They left you money?” Josie was a bit incredulous.
“It’s a long story.”
“You have a lot of long stories, Darla.”
“Well, you’re gonna get to hear ’em all now that I’ll be be your roommate.”
Josie laughed. “You’re right. I’m sorry. I’m in a bad mood.”
“Why?”
“Oh…stuff.”
“Work stuff? Or dick stuff?”
“Dick stuff.”
“You have a new man?”
Have. Have? Do I have a new man? she wondered. She had. Why did verb tense suddenly mean so much? “I have been dating someone.”
“Is he a doctor?”
Not this again, she thought. “Yes, he happens to be a doctor.”
“Same guy as before?”
“Yes.”
“Hot damn! It’s about time. You keep telling us that you’ll never date a doctor because they suck.”
“I’ve never said that doctors suck.”
“Yes you have,” Darla argued. “You’ve said it a million times—they all have God complexes, and they all have egos bigger than the state of Ohio. Josie, you’ve been saying that for years.”