“Whoa!” Emily says, jumping the gun. “Actually what?”
Robin nudges her glasses further up onto her nose and motions to Claire, whose fingers are working in rapid twists, turns, and threads. “Claire? Something you want to share?”
“Omigod!” I shriek, nearly knocking the Chex Mix out of the bowl. “Are you—?”
All eyes dart to Claire, who’s still gaily working her yarn.
“Uhh,” Sophie says, one hand on her hip. “This is the first time I’m finding out, Claire? Where’s the BFF love?”
Claire just smiles.
“Seriously?” Sophie says, thunderstruck.
“Shit,” Emily breathes, equally astonished. “Are you—?”
“Okay,” Claire says, only slowing her crocheting pace, not stopping for even this kind of potential news. “No, it’s not what you think. I’m not that crazy, making baby blankets before the baby.”
“This from the girl who buys ovulation kits in bulk and has multiple pairs of newborn-sized shoes,” Lara kids.
“I’m serious, girls,” Claire says. “This is for Robin. I’d love for it to be for me, but,” she shrugs, “Conner and I aren’t headed down that road just yet.” She pauses her crocheting. “I’d love to, and we’ve talked about seriously trying, but it’s just talk right now.”
I make a sputtering noise, then say, “Yeah, I know all about meaningless talks.”
“It’s not meaningless,” Claire counters.
“So you and Conner are trying?” Sophie asks. “Or considering trying…soon?”
Claire squishes up her face, then says, “All right. We’re trying as in I’m no longer on the pill.”
“Whoa!” Emily whoops again. “That’s huge news! Omigod!”
The rest of us look on in silence, eagerly awaiting more details of this juicy story. Claire continues, saying, “But Conner insists on still using protection.” She heaves a very heavy sigh, her whole body shaking slightly. She sticks her needle in the large ball of yarn. “We’ll have a better chance of conceiving if I’ve been off the pill for a few months. That’s what all the books say, anyway.”
“Your trusty homework,” Lara says with a wink.
“And once Conner’s ready then we’ll, well…” One corner of Claire’s mouth turns up in a half-smile. “We’ll really try then.”
“It’ll happen when it happens,” Sophie says cheerfully. “But that’s so exciting!”
“It’ll be really exciting when it’s real,” Claire says with round eyes. “For now our options are open and,” she blushes, “it is really exciting just thinking about it! That it can really happen, and soon!”
“So is Conner ready or something?” Robin asks. “Almost ready?”
“That’s a new fresh scoop of news, actually,” Claire says, looking at Sophie, who obviously already knows, seeing how the two are exchanging wide grins. Not to mention, they’re practically soul sisters.
“Conner’s up for a promotion,” Claire reveals. “It comes with a nice pay raise, and he’s confident he’ll get it. I mean,” she holds one hand out and shakes her head, “the only way he wouldn’t get it is if they go for an outside hire, and that’s unlikely.”
Sophie nods in agreement.
“So that means,” Claire says, “in about a month or so Conner could become the new manager of the accounting department, and then we’ll start really trying!” She squeals in delight and bounces her head from side to side. “With the job security and extra pay Conner said there’s no question about it. We can really try!”
“That’s wonderful,” Robin says, starting to tear up slightly. She waves a hand at her face to cool down.
“Oh, Robin,” Emily whines, embracing her in a side hug.
“It’s still these hormones,” Robin holds open her mouth and pants exaggeratedly. “Goodness, Claire, that’s great news! I’m so happy for you. And how great is this? Me not being the only one with kids.” She rubs at her eyes underneath her glasses. “You’ll make a super mom, Claire.”
“I just hope to be half the mom you are, Robin.”
“I never imagined having two kids already. At twenty-eight!” Robin says. “Was focused on my career and then came Rose…” She sighs. “Now Phillip.” She’s glowing. “I wouldn’t have it any other way, though. Being a mom really rocks. It’s work, but it’s rewarding.”
“Oh, I can’t wait,” Claire says giddily.
“And you’re really going part-time after your maternity leave?” Lara asks Robin. She takes a seat back on the sofa after folding Phillip’s blue blanket.
Robin was toying with the idea of going part-time at her publishing house after Phillip was born, since Bobby’s well-established there and Robin’s already beyond busy keeping up with two kids. She says even with Rose in daycare while she’s at work she still has to be punctual getting out of the office to pick Rose up on time, and sometimes her boss needs more than the usual eight-to-five.
“And having two in daycare full-time!” Robin declares. “No way. I’d be working just to pay for the care. Doesn’t make any sense.”
“I think it’s a great decision,” Emily says as she twists one of her freshly made cornrow braids in between two fingers. “The fact that your boss lets you opt for part-time, that’s the perfect setup for you.”
“Well,” Robin says, “it comes with a demotion. I’ll no longer be able to be a project manager, but Phillip and Rose are worth it.”
“And Bobby’s supportive?” Lara asks.
“Absolutely.” Robin gives a shrug of contentment.
“That’s important,” Emily says. She nibbles on a handful of Chex Mix. “Finding a guy who understands you—understands what you want—and is supportive.” She swallows, then smacks her lips. “Toughest thing in the world.”
“But with Gatsby you’re golden,” Sophie sings, getting up and wandering towards the kitchen.
Sophie returns a second later with a fresh bottle of chilled rosé I brought along, the burp rag Robin asked for, as well as one of the many boxes of Chinese takeout I brought over to Robin earlier this evening. She’s been so exhausted with becoming a new mommy the second time around I figured that while Sophie’s got desserts and breakfast goodies covered, every now and then I can swing by with dinner.
“Delicious, by the way,” Robin says to me as an aside in the conversation about Emily and Gatz. She gestures to the carton of fried rice. “You’re the bestest, Jack.”
“No prob,” I say, criss-crossing my legs. “Least I can do to help out.”
“He really is a fine catch, that Gatsby,” Sophie says, topping off Robin’s pink lemonade.
“Gatz is definitely a winner,” Emily gushes, “that’s for sure.”
“So it’s officially labeled a serious relationship now, Em?” Robin asks. “We know how silly you can be with labels.” She prepares to nurse Phillip after taking a quick bite of fried rice.
“If me needing to clear my crap out of her place so that there’s room for Gatz’s stuff indicates seriousness,” I say with a laugh, “then yeah.”
“There’s no need for Gatz to have much at my place,” Emily says simply.
“Oh, yeah!” I smack my forehead. “Because when he’s over he’s immediately naked and you two go at it like—”
“Anyway,” Emily says, laughing. “It’s not like that.”
“You mean you guys haven’t even done it?” I ask, not able to buy into this.
“Of course we’ve ‘done it,’” she says, making air quotes in jest at my choice of immature words. “I’m saying he’s not moving in and replacing you, Jack.” She licks the snack’s spice from her fingers.
“How could anyone ever replace me?” I press fanned-out fingers to my chest and bat my lashes. “So is he good? Amazing in the sack?” Come on, a girl can’t help but pry!
“Jackie!” Emily groans. “He’s a creative and romantic artist; I’ll let your imagination run wild with that.”
The girls snicker as I p
ush my tongue into my cheek, then make a clicking noise and say, “Definitely running wild.”
“Anyway. Sometimes I’m at his place, sometimes he’s at mine,” Emily says breezily. “But this summer I think that’s all going to change.”
“Ohhh,” Sophie groans. “Don’t remind me of this wretched news. I’m already losing you in a couple days so you can go be a plumber in Africa.”
In a few days Emily’s going to leave for Zambia for an eight-week-long volunteer project in Africa, and if missing out on Robin’s wedding isn’t rough enough, she’s also leaving Sophie shy a very handy helper at the café. Sophie says she’ll cope somehow, but it won’t be easy.
It definitely won’t be easy losing Emily again—I’ll say that much. You’d think I’d have gotten used to it by now, seeing how Emily’s always wanderlusting somewhere. But every time that ratty old backpack of hers gets dusted off and a new luggage tag is attached, a new patch of another country’s flag is ironed on, my heart aches, and I feel like I’m losing a large hunk of the security and comfort I have in life.
I know I’ve got Andrew, and he is getting a teensy-weensy bit better at being around for me, but Emily fills all those voids he can’t, and then some. She gets me, loves me, and doesn’t judge. That’s not to say she doesn’t tell me when she thinks I need to pull my head out of my ass, but she never makes me feel like shit. She never makes me feel like the exploited young girl who uses her wild and free-spirited personality to get past all the years of pain and unjust treatment. Knowing she’s down the road, her door and heart open, ready with a box of tissue, a soft pillow, and a bunch of world-wise advice, is more comfort than any pair of Louboutins or expensive meal in Manhattan Andrew can offer.
“It’s only two months, Sophie,” Emily says calmly. “Gatz will be at the café the whole time, and when I return from Zambia I’ll be back to help.”
“Until you leave again,” Sophie pouts as she pours herself a glass of rosé. “Oh, I’m not being fair,” she quickly brushes off. “I’m just sad, that’s all.”
Lara pours herself a glass of rosé as well and says, “Where’s it to next, Em?”
“You know how Gatz has been talking about wanting to study abroad?” Emily begins. She tucks her legs under herself and billows out her long, flowing, paisley skirt.
Gatz has been auditing classes at U Dub for fun for a while, but he’s been wanting to go back to school, possibly to get a Masters or something. Evidently he’s considered doing so abroad, which of course was music to Emily’s ears. She’s got her passport handy and ready to scan like I’ve got my Amex, MasterCard, Visa, Discover card, and the first card I ever qualified for on my own credit: Victoria’s Secret.
“He’s serious?” Robin asks, lightly rocking Phillip as she feeds him.
“Next term,” Emily says, humbly curling up one side of her lips.
“Summer?” Lara says.
“The fall,” Emily replies, tossing back more Chex Mix. “I don’t get back from Zambia until May, and we’re not going to leave Sophie empty handed so abruptly like that.”
Sophie smiles weakly before taking another sip of wine. I know she’s conflicted: glad that Emily and Gatz are working out and disappointed that she’ll be losing one of her best friends to the travel bug, yet again, not to mention two sets of hands at the café!
“So that means…” I say, trying to remember if Emily told me they were thinking of mid- or late-summer. I admit that when she initially told me about their possible plans I was rather caught up in my drama with Andrew. I still had that nasty gash in my palm and was so damn depressed about the state of my marriage, even in spite of the talk Andrew and I had, that I kind of selfishly missed the details of her and Gatz’s plans.
“July,” Emily says. “We want to backpack and travel around for a while before he’s got to start classes.”
“Where are the classes?” Robin asks anxiously.
“Australia,” I answer. I look at Emily. “Brisbane, right?”
“That’s the plan,” Emily says, a mixture of excitement and solemnity in her voice. “U Dub’s got a sister school there—a good literature program for Gatz. And I’m researching volunteer opportunities there. There are quite a few options.”
“Well,” Lara says, “I think this is fandamntastic news, hon.”
“Yeah,” Sophie says. “I’m being selfish, but this is really good news, Em.”
“Definitely,” Robin and Claire say.
Emily looks at me with a sheepish grin.
“Well obviously I’m not elated that my bosom buddy is fleeing.” I roll my eyes. “But if it’s with some hot, artsy poet who can’t keep his clothes on when he’s at your place then I guess I understand.”
Emily gives my shoulder a shove. “It’s not like that, dork.”
“Well why not?” Lara cackles. “Isn’t that the fun of a serious relationship?”
“Yeah,” Sophie gushes, “and getting to go travel together, running off, having fun, being so happy, so lucky… Having the time of your life! I envy you, Emily. Totally envy you.”
I catch a glimpse of my sparkly wedding ring as I bring my glass to my lips and take a sip of the sweet wine.
Envy, I think as the wine settles on my tongue. Like limbo, like life, it’s a funny thing. When you think you have nothing, you have envy; when you think you have it all, the envy’s still there—it’s just a different kind of envy.
Chapter Fifteen
The moist, salty air and light spray of the aquamarine water envelop me, sending me sailing along in a comfortingly euphoric state. The fresh and crisp breeze tickles my newly fake-n-bake tanned skin, bringing goosebumps to my bare forearms; it whips through the billowing white sails overhead and blows about Andrew’s loosely fitted, white button-down. With my arms outstretched wide, I close my eyes against the bright afternoon glow the sun casts in slivers through whipped-cream clouds. I breathe in deeply, my nose tingling with delight as I take in the pleasant fragrances of coconut-scented tanning oil and hints of Andrew’s Burberry for Men that wafts by just right, when the wind catches past him at the stern.
I peek open my eyes, my large Alexander McQueen, studded, cat-eye sunglasses providing some shade against the scintillating sunshine. I look behind me and instantly a smile plays my lips. Andrew’s standing at the helm, one arm resting loosely on the large, wooden wheel, slowly inching it from one side to the other, keeping course as we cross the Puget Sound.
This has to be one of Andrew’s best ideas yet—a sure-fire way to help get our marriage back on track—and a great way to pay me some long-overdue attention. I had some small reservations beforehand, thinking this was just another useless attempt at keeping things hot and interesting, but Andrew’s trying—walking and not just talking. And besides, how could I say no to this luxury?
We used to go sailing when we were dating, Andrew somehow having found the time years ago in his busy schedule to take up the hobby. I was impressed when he revealed his nautical skills to me, but he just brushed it off saying it was something men in his position do, like golf—it makes for conversation, gives you something to do on that rare occasion you have vacation time, and you get to join a fancy-shmancy club that holds galas, benefit auctions, and apparently an annual cup race, all of which you get to enjoy if you manage to find the time away from the job that gets you into the sailing club to begin with.
I unfurl the corners of the large sunbathing towel I’ve laid out on the deck, fighting a losing battle against the wind that throttles our boat further across the water. I set the bottle of tanning oil on one corner of the towel, and my brand new navy blue and white, rubber-soled deck shoes on the other.
I take another peek at Andrew. He looks so sexy standing there at the helm, maneuvering the vessel like a pro. His shirt’s top three buttons are undone, the sleeves rolled half-way up his arms, the cuffs of his khaki pants rolled up a couple of times, too. It’s a rare moment my husband can take off the suit and the tie—escape the co
nfines of his coiffed world. I like that I get to see him unplugged.
Adjusting the top of the too-adorable-for-words white, ruffled bikini I found during my shopping spree yesterday, I lean back on my elbows and take in the picturesque scenery surrounding me.
Bainbridge Island is not even ten miles off the waterfront of Seattle, and is a quiet place where a lot of Seattleites either retire or have their second, more relaxed home nestled among the tall vegetation and along the sandy, remote beaches. Some locals actually live here, too, and just commute via the ferry to the city, and, you know, considering Andrew’s hellish work life, I don’t think I’d mind relocating to a place like this if it meant keeping him home a couple days a week. “Looks like the ferry won’t be arriving today, dear…guess you have to stay home…” I could picture that happening. Okay, not like that would ever happen for any reason, but the idea’s nice enough. Keeping my husband hostage on an island…
Of course, I know after about a month it’d get old and I’d be dying for the city, the pulse, the life. Not to mention Andrew probably wouldn’t know what to do with himself stranded on an island surrounded by nothing but nature, Mom and Pop shops with homemade crafts, American diners, and laidback cafés that close for siesta at two in the afternoon. Okay, we’d both go insane, but for a weekend getaway Bainbridge is the ideal location for some R&R—romance and a romp.
“Baby doll,” Andrew calls out.
I peer back to see him stepping away from the wheel. He moves along the deck, adjusting cranks and pulling taut some ropes, just like a pro.
“You want to stand at the wheel for me?” he says. He pushes up his black, square-framed RayBans—a very sophisticated-looking pair—as he yanks hard on a rope.
“That’s it,” he says as I cautiously place both hands at the top of the wheel. “Just keep it steady for me while I work on the mainsail.”
“Like this?” I ask, standing on my tiptoes and looking far over the large wheel of the beautiful wooden sailboat we’ve rented.
He flashes a quick look back and tells me I’m doing everything just right. “Keep it steady,” he says.
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