At first it seemed that everything about the idea was difficult and sad. She imagined waking up in the middle of the night to a crying baby, with nobody there to nudge and say: “Can you get this one?” She imagined bringing her child to school on the first day of kindergarten and having no one to stand next to arm in arm as she waved goodbye. And when her child was a teenager, who would she worry and wait up with until two o’clock in the morning?
But then she remembered everything that Claudia had said about raising kids with her husband. According to Claudia, Steve slept right through the kids’ wailing in the middle of the night and never once got up to feed them. He skipped the first day of kindergarten because he had a meeting he couldn’t get out of. And now that the girls were entering their teenage years, Claudia and Steve fought about everything from curfews to dating to whether they should be allowed to wear makeup.
Annie wondered if maybe Claudia was right, that maybe it would be easier to go it alone. Sure, there wouldn’t be anyone to help when things were hard or to share in the good times, but there also wouldn’t be anyone to argue with or disappoint.
In the end, whether or not to have a partner in parenthood was really beside the point. Annie was thirty-eight years old, and not only was there not a man on the horizon, she hadn’t even been mildly interested in one for three years. If she wanted to get pregnant and have a healthy child, she needed to act.
So without saying a word to her friends and family, Annie began researching the process in secret, scouring the Internet for information about artificial insemination, in vitro fertilization, and sperm banks.
For Annie, that was the best part: the digital sperm bank. As a busy executive who hated going to the malls and shopping centers that dominated her surroundings, Annie bought everything over the Internet. Now it felt like she was shopping online for a baby.
She’d go to her favorite site and input her donor preferences: eye color, hair color, hair texture (curly? wavy? straight?), skin tone, height, ethnicity. She could even narrow her choice down to a Buddhist with a master’s degree, type A blood, and an interest in linguistics. There were profiles and essays and staff members’ impressions to read, and for a price she could see a baby photo, listen to an interview, and look at a personality test. The site even let her do a search based on the celebrity the donor resembled most. There were look-alikes for everyone from Vince Vaughn to Bob Saget, John Travolta to Keanu Reeves, Tom Brady to Stephen Colbert. There were even two versions of Russell Crowe to choose from—a youthful Crowe from his Gladiator days and an older version, presumably after the thrown telephone and extra poundage.
Once Annie stopped worrying about hormone shots and midnight feedings and instead concentrated on what her child would look like and which stroller to buy, the whole process seemed a lot more fun and a lot less scary. She felt comforted by all the websites hawking services and products for women just like her, who simply wanted to give birth without having to find, date, and marry a man first. She imagined there were whole legions of women out there thinking about and doing the exact same thing. Then she did a search on Google—singlemom.com, single mothers.org, singlemothersbychoice.com—and discovered there were.
Chapter Five
Sometimes, a cigar is just a cigar, but rarely is a book club just a book club. Most of the time, it’s a way to meet people, a way to assuage one’s guilt for not being well read, or a way to get out of the house one evening a month. Katie joined this club made up of moms from her kids’ school two years ago, right after she broke up with Rob, to take her mind off the divorce and to try to rebuild all those brain cells that had died during pregnancy. Maxine joined because Katie didn’t want to go alone. Claudia, whose kids went to the same school as Maxine’s, joined a few months later because Maxine told her it would be a night away from Steve. Annie, the newest member of the group, joined because she wanted to meet a whole new batch of married women with kids.
Every four months or so, the book club morphed into something different, depending on who showed up, what books they read, and what kind of refreshments were served. At first, the club was dominated by former English majors who wanted to reread all the classics and have weighty discussions about character, point of view, and narrative, as if they were back in a college literature seminar. During that period, cheese and crackers and Diet Coke were served. Then a few of the literary types dropped out and were replaced by women who had no interest in Austen, Dickens, or even Updike and instead insisted on books that had the stamp of approval of Oprah, Tyra, Ellen, or some other one-named daytime-television talk-show host who could be trusted not to waste their time. These women upgraded the cheddar and Ritz to fontina and water crackers, and the Diet Coke was replaced with merlot. Then there was a brief self-help phase, with books by everyone from the Dalai Lama to Dr. Phil and refreshments that included raw vegetables and herbal tea.
The latest phase was the confessional memoir, covering everything from drug addiction to incest to domestic violence. This month’s selection was about a stay-at-home mom who couldn’t stand staying at home with her kids so she arranged play dates in order to get wasted with the other moms. Since Katie was hosting, she decided to serve her special artichoke dip along with her favorite mixed drink—frozen melon balls. But when she brought out a tray of martini glasses filled with the chilled, slushy green mixture, the women looked at her with mild confusion. Katie suddenly realized that her refreshments were probably not appropriate for a discussion about alcoholic mommies, but she set the tray down anyway. After a brief, uncomfortable pause, each woman picked up a glass and started guzzling.
The drinks were downed in roughly fifteen minutes, prompting Katie to go back into the kitchen to whip up another batch.
“Hey, those are awesome,” said Maxine as she walked into the kitchen. “Can I get another one?”
Soon after, Claudia came in with Annie following close behind.
“Us too,” said Claudia.
“I knew they’d be a hit,” said Katie.
“But I’m afraid you might be in here blending the whole time,” said Annie.
“That’s okay,” said Katie. “I don’t feel like talking about this book anyway.”
“Me neither,” said Maxine.
“I didn’t even read it,” said Claudia.
“Me neither,” said Maxine.
“I read the blurb on the back and I think I got the gist,” said Annie.
“You guys!” said Katie. “It’s a book club. You have to read the book!”
“Nuh-uh,” said Claudia, taking a gulp of her drink and chewing on a stray chunk of ice. “I was prepared with lots of comments about this book even though I never read it. I was gonna say that this woman has no business drinking wine while she plays Candy Land with her kids and someone should call Child Protective Services immediately.”
“Well, if you read the book you’d know it was a little more complicated than that,” said Katie, pulling a piping hot dish of artichoke dip out of the oven. “She’s actually a sympathetic character.”
“Whatever,” said Claudia, taking a cracker and sticking it into the dip.
“Isn’t she a blogger?” asked Maxine.
“Who isn’t a blogger?” said Annie.
“I’m not and never will be,” said Claudia as she finished the last of her melon ball and grabbed another, which was sitting on the wooden serving tray that Katie got for a wedding present. “I can’t stand all that spewing. Get an editor, for God’s sake.” Blogging was a sensitive subject for Claudia, who had begun to see her husband as a mini-blogger wannabe, with his incessant unedited Facebook updates.
“I was thinking about starting a blog,” said Katie warily. “ ‘Dealing with Divorce’.”
“Catchy,” said Annie.
“I know,” said Katie. “But then I realized I would actually have to write the damn thing.”
“How are you dealing with divorce, anyway?” asked Annie. Annie hadn’t known Katie long but was intri
gued by this woman whose life had been turned upside down so abruptly and who seemed to have made the transition so effortlessly.
“Great!” said Maxine, who never missed the opportunity to point out Katie’s heroic reaction to divorce. “She’s amazing. She’s like the poster child for great divorces. You know, you really should write a blog, or a book. Why don’t you write a book, Katie?”
“Because I’m too busy being the best divorcée ever,” said Katie. “Anyway, I’m not going to have any time on my hands now that I’m starting to date.”
Katie hadn’t had a chance to tell Maxine in private and hadn’t meant to reveal her entry onto the dating scene to a larger audience yet, but she was so excited—and a little drunk on melon balls—that she couldn’t resist saying something. She also felt like she needed a good pep talk and maybe some advice on what to do. By Katie’s calculations, she hadn’t been on a real date since her junior prom eighteen years ago.
“What?” Maxine practically screamed. “You’re dating?”
“Not yet. We’re going out this weekend,” said Katie.
“I can’t believe it!” said Maxine. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
“It just happened,” said Katie.
“Who is he?” asked Annie. “How did you meet?”
“Online,” said Katie.
“What?!” cried Maxine.
“Oh, God,” said Claudia.
“What?” said Annie, giving Claudia a reprimanding look. “Why not?”
“What do you expect me to do?” asked Katie. “Go hang out at a singles’ bar?”
“I would have fixed you up,” said Maxine, a bit hurt. Because she was eight years older than Katie, Maxine often felt like she needed to take care of her friend. She regularly asked Katie if she could set her up with one of the single dads at her kids’ school. Last week she told her about a journalist who had recently separated from his wife of fifteen years. She thought Katie would have leapt at the chance to meet a writer, considering her interest in poetry and all, but she completely blew it off.
“No, thanks,” said Katie. “I don’t like the idea of getting fixed up. I really want to choose someone on my own.”
“I’m sorry for sounding so negative, Katie,” said Claudia. “I’m just a little anti-Internet lately. I think it’s great that you did it.”
“So who is he?” asked Maxine, ready to get over her feelings of rejection and support her friend.
“Well, his name is Ed. He’s forty-six—”
“Forty-six!” shouted Maxine, newly incensed that Katie was taking matters into her own hands. Clearly she had no idea what she was doing. “That’s kind of old for you, isn’t it?”
“An Ivy Leaguer. Went to Wharton for business school. Didn’t you go to Wharton, Annie?”
“Yeah.”
“I don’t think they knew each other, Katie,” said Maxine. “He’s way older.”
“Enough about how old he is! Forty-six is not old!” Katie glared at Maxine.
“Sorry,” said Maxine.
“He grew up in L.A.,” Katie said calmly, sure that the rest of Ed’s résumé would win her friends over.
“Cool,” said Claudia.
“Works for some tech company. And he makes at least $150,000 a year but probably way more.”
“Do you know how much he weighs?” asked Claudia.
“He’s well toned.”
“Huh?” said Annie.
“That’s how they do it. Athletic, well toned, average …”
“So what are you?” asked Annie.
“Average,” said Katie.
“Average? You’re not average!” Maxine was often frustrated by Katie’s self-deprecation, feeling her friend had no idea what an incredible person she really was. For that reason, she didn’t trust her to choose a man who was sufficiently worthy.
“I’d rather he be pleasantly surprised than disappointed.”
“Are you kidding?” said Maxine. “This old coot hit the jackpot with you!”
“What does he look like?” asked Annie.
“Kind of professorish,” said Katie.
“I hope he’s not all stuffy,” said Claudia.
“No, I don’t think so.” Katie wondered if she had done the right thing by telling her friends about Ed. She was already feeling a little exhausted by the third degree she was getting. “Should I mix up some more melon balls?” she asked, trying to change the subject.
“Definitely,” said Claudia. “So you’re not going to get married again, are you?”
“No!” said Katie. “I just want to have sex. I mean, it’s been over two years, you know.”
“Wow,” said Claudia. “I hope you remember how.”
“Claudia!” said Maxine. “Don’t freak her out.”
“I’m kidding! Of course she’ll know how. It’s like riding a bike.”
“I think I might have forgotten how,” said Annie. “So much so that I don’t even want to do it anymore.”
“Really?” asked Claudia. “I mean, I can barely stand my husband and I still want to do it with him.”
“I know what you mean, Annie,” said Katie. “After a while, I forgot what it was like, and I didn’t miss it at all. Then, all of a sudden …”
“What?” asked Maxine.
“I don’t know. I started wanting it again,” said Katie. “It was like I remembered.”
“What reminded you?” asked Claudia. “Did you find a sex tape that you and Rob made or something?”
“Ha! No, it wasn’t Rob. I definitely don’t think about that. I think it was a movie I saw.”
“Which one?” asked Maxine.
“Little Children. With Kate Winslet,” said Katie.
“Yes!” said Claudia.
“You know, when she’s sitting on top of the washing machine and he’s just banging her, and you can see his cute little tushy going back and forth.”
“Oh, my,” said Claudia.
“I guess I could relate to that,” said Katie.
“Have you done it on top of a washing machine?” asked Maxine.
“No, but I do a lot of laundry,” said Katie.
“Maybe you could lure Ed down to your basement and reenact the scene,” said Annie.
“This is so exciting, Katie!” said Maxine. More than anything, she was happy that Katie was finally getting out, no matter who the lucky guy might be.
“Or pathetic?” said Katie.
“Are you kidding?” said Claudia. “We’re all jealous of you. You’re going to be doing it in the laundry room with some hot—”
“Forty-six-year-old,” said Maxine. “Oh. Sorry.”
“Yeah, well, don’t be jealous yet,” said Katie. “Anyway, I’m not the one you should be jealous of. Look at Maxine over here. Miss Perfect Marriage.”
“Oh, come on,” said Maxine. “Don’t start with that.”
“It’s true,” said Katie. “I’d be jealous of you if I wasn’t so happy for you.”
“Thanks, Katie,” said Maxine, feeling a little uncomfortable.
“Man, I want to meet your husband,” said Annie. “He sounds amazing.”
“He is,” said Claudia, with a touch of wistfulness. “There aren’t a lot of guys like Jake out there.”
Annie didn’t have to be told that. She knew there weren’t any perfect guys. In fact, she had her doubts about this Jake she’d heard so much about. She was skeptical that anyone could really be that wonderful, just as she was skeptical that Steve could really be that bad.
“Excuse me?” came a voice from the kitchen entryway. It was Lilly Weilander, one of the newer recruits to the book club. “People want to know if there are any more drinks left.”
“Of course,” said Katie. “They’re almost ready. Can I give you a refill?”
“Yes, please!” said Lilly, holding out her glass. “I know it’s wrong, but after a long day with the kids, sometimes a drink or two does take the edge off.”
“Whatever it takes, Lilly,” said
Claudia. “Whatever it takes.”
Chapter Six
Besides the fact that she hadn’t gone out on a date in almost two decades, over the past two years Katie hadn’t been to a wedding, a fancy dinner, or any other occasion that required her to wear a dress and makeup. So when her five-year-old daughter, Maggie, watched as Katie stood in front of the bathroom mirror in a tight-fitting black dress, her hair freshly curled and sprayed, carefully applying mascara, she asked, “What’s happening, Mama?” as if something momentous and terrible was about to take place.
“Nothing, sweetie,” said Katie. “Mama’s just going out to dinner with some friends.”
“Are we coming?”
“No, you’re going to Grandma’s house.”
“You look pretty.”
“Thanks, Maggie.”
“Is Daddy going with you?”
“No, honey. Daddy’s not coming.” By now Katie was used to these types of questions from her kids. It wasn’t as if they hoped their parents would get back together, it was more a curiosity about the boundaries of their relationship.
“Daddy’s never seen you like that.”
Katie stopped and looked at her daughter. “Yes, he has. He’s seen me like this many times.” On second thought, maybe the kids were determined to see their parents reconcile.
Katie regularly checked in with her kids about how they were feeling about the family situation. “So, how do you think this whole divorce thing is going?” she’d ask. Frank would immediately respond, “Good!” and Maggie would chime in, “We like it this way!” Sometimes they would list all the pros of having divorced parents, like two homes, two sets of toys, and being able to have a dog at Daddy’s house. But Katie wondered if they were simply giving her the responses that she so desperately wanted to hear. She wondered if her kids really did wish for a more traditional home life.
Ed had asked Katie if he could pick her up at her house but obliged when she said it would probably be best if they met at the restaurant. He had chosen one of the most expensive restaurants in Kansas City, a place Katie had never been before.
Katie was fifteen minutes early, so she told the hostess she would wait at the bar. She decided to order a cosmopolitan to help her relax. Because she hadn’t eaten the entire day, two sips were all it took to make her feel light-headed and happy. She told herself it didn’t matter what happened with Ed. The important thing was that she had finally worked up the courage to go out on a date with a man.
Point, Click, Love Page 6