The Newport Ladies Book Club: Daisy

by Kilpack, Josi S.

  The conversation veered into other topics, and as we chatted, Livvy leaned toward me. “I think those kinds of shirts are so cute, Daisy,” she said out of the blue. She waved her hand. “But I can’t wear them; any time I try, I totally look pregnant.”

  Heat instantly filled my face. This was the second book group where someone had said something about me being pregnant. I suppressed the anger and forced myself to be polite.

  Ruby reached over and patted my knee. “I wonder if you are. How exciting!”

  I forced a smile. “I’m not pregnant; trust me.” I couldn’t help but shoot a look at Paige, who’d been the one to bring it up last month. “I got that taken care of permanently fifteen years ago, remember? I can’t get pregnant.”

  “I had a friend back in ’87,” Ruby said, not picking up on my energy. “She had a tubal ligation, and then ten years later, poof! There she was, expecting a surprise little caboose! He’s a teenager now.”

  Everyone but Ruby seemed uncomfortable, and I tried to soften the moment and said, “That’s pretty rare. I’ll just make a point of not wearing this shirt again.”

  An uncomfortable silence settled over the room. Finally Ruby stood. “Well, let’s serve up the dessert. Or, rather, the refreshments, since potato latkes aren’t sweet. Ilana brought them for Livvy. Wasn’t that nice of her?”

  Ruby dished up the latkes, which I tried to enjoy despite being obsessed with Livvy’s comment. Did I look that fat? Did I look pregnant?

  “How’s your father?”

  I looked up to see who’d spoken. It was Paige, directing the comment at Athena.

  “It’s getting harder,” Athena said. She looked up to see all of us listening and explained that her father had Alzheimer’s. He sometimes thought she was her aunt or his younger sister, and with her mother gone, she had taken over his care, a task which sounded overwhelming. Wow. “My sister thinks we should put him in a care center now. But it’s so expensive, and this is a bad time of the year to put my parents’ house on the market.”

  “Had your mother ever talked about a care center?” Livvy asked.

  Athena shook her head and pushed a piece of latke around on her plate with her fork. “Not that she told us.”

  “Have you checked into any of them?” I asked.

  Paige smiled at me gratefully. “It might be worth looking into,” she added.

  “I looked up a couple of locations,” Athena said. “But I feel so . . .” She looked at the ceiling as if trying to come up with a way to explain. “Guilty. I’m his daughter; he raised me and took care of me my whole life. I’m the only one who can really take care of him—my sister has three kids. It’s not his fault my mother is gone; I have to take her place as best as I can. I just can’t bring myself to put him away.”

  “You’re not putting him away,” Paige said quickly.

  “Nursing homes are awful,” Ruby said, her lips tight. She gave a quick shake of her head.

  I cringed, but Paige hurried to repair it. “Not all nursing homes are the same.” She told us about a care center in Utah that her church provided worship services for. “It was a beautiful place, and the residents were happy there.” She turned to Athena. “Your mom was his caretaker, and she did what she thought was best. You’re his caretaker now, and it’s not wrong to make a choice in both of your best interests.”

  Athena nodded but didn’t say anything else.

  We ate quietly, with a few comments peppering the awkward silence. I stood as soon as I felt like I could and made my good-byes, trying to stand up straight so that my shirt would be more concealing.

  Concealing of what? As soon as I stood, however, I realized I needed to use the bathroom. I already knew where it was, so I thought I’d just step in on my way out, without advertising. I’d been using the bathroom a lot more than usual, I realized, but hated thinking about that, hated the reminders of what these women had said. I wasn’t pregnant. I wasn’t! I couldn’t be.

  I washed my hands and let myself out. By the time I reached the front door, Paige was just pulling it open. She smiled at me, but then her smile faltered. I realized my eyebrows were pulled together and tried to smooth my expression.

  “You okay?” she asked as I passed through the door in front of her.

  “Sure,” I said.

  “I’m really sorry about the comments,” Paige said. “I can’t help but feel responsible since I brought it up last month.”

  I should have smiled and shrugged it off, but I didn’t. Instead, I turned to Paige as she shut the door behind her. “I can’t be pregnant,” I said in a whisper, despite the fact that we were the only two people outside. “I can’t.”

  Chapter 20

  We stood there for a few seconds before we heard more good-byes from the other side of the door. In tandem, we started walking toward our cars.

  “You’re obviously worried, though,” Paige said. “Why not take a test?”

  “I can’t,” I said automatically. I was saying that a lot. It would be a waste of time and a waste of money, but . . .

  “Take it at my apartment,” Paige said. “There’s a drugstore not half a mile away from here. Just take a test, and then you can be done with it once and for all.”

  “Unless it comes back positive.” As soon as I said it, I clamped my mouth shut. It was not possible. I’d had my tubes tied fifteen years ago. I was forty-six years old. I was not pregnant. But the idea that had been planted a month ago hadn’t ever gone away completely and tonight it had been set on fire. I could see the green shoot poking out of the ground and knew the only way to pull it out was to prove it to be unfounded. I was certain even entertaining the thought was just some sadistic way to distract myself from my other worries in life, but if that was the case, then confronting it would still be effective at moving it out of the way, right?

  Paige continued. “At least this way you’ll know, right? No more wondering and worrying. And I won’t tell anyone the results either way.”

  I looked at my feet and accepted that it was time to take the test. My stomach completely rebelled at the idea, but it rebelled about pretty much everything these days anyway.

  “You know you want to. Just come do it.”

  Livvy and Athena passed by, and Paige waved at them pleasantly as they headed toward their cars—Ilana must have been the first one out the door—then Paige turned to wave at Ruby, who was still standing at the door. I didn’t even think about saying good-bye, I was totally lost in myself.

  A thought occurred to me—another excuse why I couldn’t do this. Not tonight. “Isn’t Stormy babysitting for you tonight?”

  “Yeah,” Paige said. “But she’ll be gone by the time you get there. Unless you wanted her to stay.”

  “No!” I said too loudly. That idea was horrendous. I thought about Paul—my husband. I should tell him I was taking the test, right? He deserved to know, didn’t he? But I could barely admit it to myself, let alone share my suspicions.

  “Not a problem,” Paige said. “I’ll be sure to have her on her way before you arrive.”

  “Fine,” I said in surrender. “I’ll see you in a few. But Stormy better not be there.”

  My attempt at sounding threatening only made her laugh. “It’ll be perfect. I’ll hurry, I promise.”

  Livvy’s Pacifica pulled away from the curb, and Athena’s slick black car followed slowly behind her. I headed to my car and could feel Paige watching me, as if she worried I would stand her up. It was tempting, but no, I was determined to get this over with. For being so young, Paige sure was pushy.

  I found the drugstore and intended to take my time, but I felt like a seventeen-year-old kid again, trying to buy a pregnancy test without anyone noticing. It ticked me off that I would revert to being that stupid little girl, so I marched down the aisle, scanned the tests, and then bought three different brands. The first test I’d taken with Stormy had been negative, and I was relieved for exactly ten days. The second test had told the truth. I didn�
��t want to think about that, however. There were few moments as difficult as telling the guy you think you might be in love with that he’s tied to you for life, whether he likes it or not. I’d already done that twice—three times, if I counted the pregnancy that forced Jared and me to give things one more try until it ended in miscarriage.

  Paige had texted me directions to her place. I pulled into the apartment complex in Tustin, concentrating on finding the second building on the north end. There was an empty parking space right out front, and I pulled my Prius into it, took a breath, and then pushed the button to turn off the car. I regarded the bag on my passenger seat with trepidation, hoping I had wasted sixty bucks.

  I went inside and took the elevator to the fourth floor. As apartment complexes went, this one was nice. I’d seen a playground when I drove in; I bet her boys lived there when they could.

  I knocked on the door with the number 425 stuck to it, and Paige opened up right away.

  “You’re speedy,” Paige said as I stepped past her. The apartment was quiet; the boys must have been asleep. I noticed that Stormy hadn’t done all the dishes. I made a mental note to talk to her about that. “Oh, and you almost ran into your daughter.”

  I managed to laugh, even though the thought horrified me. “Well, I’m glad I didn’t.”

  Now that I was there I felt silly. Paige was twenty years younger than I was, and I’d raised two daughters on my own, for heaven’s sake. I could take a pregnancy test by myself. But not at home where Paul might find the packaging. Oh, I so needed to get this over with. I held up the bag from the drugstore. “I bought three. Just to be sure.”

  Paige laughed and showed me to the bathroom. “I hope you’ve got enough in you to pee on all of those.”

  “Wish me luck,” I said, jiggling the bag before I locked the door.

  There was a pair of swim trunks hanging over the shower rod, and the tub faucet was dripping water on a pile of bath toys. I took my time clearing the counter to make room for the tests and laid down a doubled strip of toilet paper. I was dealing with urine after all, and if someone were taking pregnancy tests in my bathroom, I would want them to be considerate.

  My work area prepped, I took all the tests out of the boxes and read the brief instructions on how to use them; they all worked within the same basic process. I looked at all three of them, lined up like little soldiers, and closed my eyes, offering my first prayer in I didn’t know how many years.

  Please don’t do this to me again.

  I took the tests, washed my hands, and then sat on the closed toilet with my back to the tests. I waited a full three minutes before I stood, took another breath, and turned to see my fate.

  One plus sign.

  Two plus signs.

  Three.

  Chapter 21

  I had very little memory of what happened at Paige’s house after seeing the results of the three tests. I drove home, eventually, but I parked a few houses down the street in front of an empty house with a For Sale sign in the yard and a good view of the window of my master bedroom. I didn’t want Paul to see my swollen eyes. It was more than an hour before Paul gave up waiting on me and turned off the bedroom light. Then I stared at the darkened window and asked myself the next question.

  How on earth was I going to tell him?

  Tears I thought I’d run out of crept up on me as I imagined all his possible reactions. But I didn’t have enough foundation to even draw a conclusive hypothesis. Paul and I had never discussed having children together. Why would we? I had been forty-three years old when we got married, Paul had been forty, and we both had teenage daughters. He’d known early on in our relationship that I couldn’t have more children.

  Couldn’t!

  Not that I didn’t want kids—though I didn’t—but I could not physically conceive another child. I had never heard of a tubal ligation failing. I had never been told that it could “grow back.” If I hadn’t stared at those tests until I thought I was going to pass out, I still wouldn’t have believed it. At the same time, I felt so stupid. I hadn’t had a period in three months. I’d chalked it up to pre-menopause or just good luck, but I’d also been nauseated, and my breasts were swollen, and I could no longer fit into my jeans even though I wasn’t eating much. I’d been through this before—not only pregnancy, but unplanned pregnancies that snuck up on me exactly like this.

  How could I possibly be facing this again? How could I have not known?

  I dried my tears on the sleeve of my jacket and made a decision. I was not telling Paul. Not yet. Maybe I’d come up with the right way to say it in a few days. Or maybe . . . the pregnancy wouldn’t work out. The thought propelled me back to the moment when I lost Jared’s baby. It had been devastating because I knew that baby was the only thing holding us together. Now, I worried about the reverse. This baby—okay, I wasn’t ready to think of it as a baby—this pregnancy might be too much for Paul and me.

  I’d be sixty-five years old when this child graduated from high school—older than Ruby—and I could honestly say at that point that I had spent my whole life raising children. I parked in the driveway so I wouldn’t have to open the garage and risk Paul waking up. I got out of the car and headed toward the front door as the shock moved out of the way and anger began to rise. This was not fair! It wasn’t fair to me. It wasn’t fair to Paul. It wasn’t fair to my daughters—I was going to be a grandmother, for heaven’s sake—and it certainly wasn’t fair to this . . . pregnancy.

  I let myself into the house as quietly as possible, but I couldn’t make myself go into the bedroom. I felt guilty and angry and completely overwhelmed. I left my shoes by the front door and went into Stormy’s room. I curled up in her bed, which still smelled like her, and wished I had something else to think about. But what could possibly supersede this in my thoughts? I lay there, staring at the blank walls of the room where my daughter used to live, and thought back to the prayer I’d dared utter before I took those tests.

  Please don’t do this to me again.

  That’s why I don’t pray.

  Chapter 22

  I’d been on autopilot before and, just as I’d adjusted to Stormy being gone, I easily fell into a routine that took me from one day to the next. I kept up at work, I kept up at home, I did what Paul wanted to do in the evenings, and I tried not to think.

  Now that I knew the truth, I could finally admit that my body was changing, and it became my priority to disguise those changes. Whereas I’d lost some weight in the beginning, my shape was all wrong. I wore elastic waistband pants and pretended I was cold so I had an excuse to wear sweaters and jackets even though I was an absolute furnace. When Paul tried to be intimate, I told him I was too tired; I couldn’t stand the thought of him touching my morphing body. I’d figured I was fifteen or sixteen weeks along. Would he believe that I’d only known for a week and a half?

  Did I really believe that?

  I was at work Thursday morning, verifying some client information online, and suddenly found myself on the Planned Parenthood website. I’d had a friend back in Virginia who’d had an abortion in high school. She’d insisted it wasn’t a real baby, not yet, but the explanation hadn’t worked for me, and I’d been horrified. For all the wild times I eventually had, I believed in the soul, and I believed that destroying a body that was meant to house a soul was a sin. But I stared at the company’s logo now, thirty years later, and reviewed the arguments she’d made. What if it wasn’t a baby? What if it were just cells that weren’t really anything at all?

  I’d let so many matters of faith fall by the wayside. Why not this one? If I believed everything I’d been taught, I was already going to hell for having gotten pregnant out of wedlock at seventeen, marrying a non-Catholic, getting a divorce, and not going to church. So what was one more black mark on my record?

  Then my eyes caught the picture on my desk. We’d taken it last summer when Stormy and I had visited December in Ohio. My daughters smiled back at me.

 
They’d both once been a cluster of cells.

  Getting rid of this would solve everything.

  Could I pretend not to believe what I believed?

  Was forgiveness better than permission?

  I looked at the picture of my girls again and closed the website.

  I got back to work, taking on a few projects that Eric was falling behind on in order to keep myself sufficiently overwhelmed at the office. I avoided Amy as though I had a communicable disease. What would she do when she found out about this?

  • • •

  Christmas was a few weeks away, and Paul and I talked about getting a tree, but without Stormy at home, neither of us made time for the errand. I tried to shop but ended up going around and around the hallways of the mall without buying anything other than hand soap. Why on earth did I need hand soap? I’d decided not to talk to Paul until I felt prepared for his reaction, but I couldn’t imagine his reaction yet. Did that mean I didn’t trust my husband? Did I think he would leave me over this? Would I leave if he were the one holding the key that would unravel my carefully constructed expectations of what the rest of my life would be? I walked by a life-size nativity display and stared at the baby Jesus in the manger. After a few seconds I had to look away.

  Why was this happening to me?

  I gave up on shopping and decided to go home, but on my way toward the exit, I saw a bookstore and remembered that I hadn’t picked up next month’s book yet. I stopped in the middle of the mall, and a woman bumped into me, nearly knocking me over. I didn’t want to go into the bookstore and have to talk and smile at people. Autopilot could get me through only so many hours of the day. But then I remembered Poisonwood Bible and My Name Is Asher Lev. I’d been able to lose myself in both of those books. I would love to get lost again. So I went in, but I couldn’t remember the name of the author, just the title—Silas Marner.