by Ava Claire
“It’s clear that you don’t need very much, Leila,” Megan interrupted gently. I was on the verge of sticking my tongue out at her, so she rubbed my feet as a peace offering. “I’ve been to your place before and I still feel like I’m in an episode of Cribs.” She gave my foot a final squeeze and popped from the bed with an ease that made me a little jealous. “This view is freaking amazing, you know that?”
I scooted to the edge o the bed, swallowing a mouthful of orange juice before I answered. “I’m pretty lucky.”
It was the understatement of the century. ‘Lucky’ was dashing out of the house, ten minutes late and a cab’s waiting at the curb. Luck was forgetting your briefcase in said cab and the driver delivering it to your office. Meeting Jacob, falling in lust, then love, and marrying and starting a family with him, was something else entirely. It was a gift that I was grateful for every moment of every day.
Our home was beautiful: from the view, to the furnishings, to the bits and pieces that were ours; the pictures, the memories on the walls and draped on the couch downstairs and the kitchen, that for Jacob’s sake, I rarely used. But all the bells and whistles, the things that made editors of interior design magazines light up my inbox, dying to feature the modern luxury loft the Whitmores call home’, completely missed the most amazing part of my life. Love was what mattered. Lifting each other up, celebrating each other.
And letting yourself be celebrated, I thought, conceding my internal war about ‘The Moms’. There were worst problems to have. There were women out there who wished they had overbearing relatives to fight over who would love the baby the most. As crazy as they made me, I didn’t want to ever lose sight of how lucky I truly was.
I finished my orange juice, took a deep breath or two and eased off the bed. The minute the floor creaked, Megan whirled back to me, hands clasped together in a mixture of relief and glee.
“Good, you’re up! What can I do to help?” Not even waiting for her marching orders, she flew to the closet, throwing on the light with a gasp of shock and awe. “Jesus Christ. I’m pretty sure your closet is bigger than my entire studio. I should shoot you my GPS coordinates so I don’t get lost.”
“Very funny,” I called after her, pausing myself to look out at the city. I was getting a later start than I was used to. Even during the vacation I was milling around at 7AM, my body still on mainland time.
Despite the fact the rest of the world got a head start on me, there was still something so liberating and empowering about looking out at the city. The concrete jungle, filled with dreams and hard work and promises. Like every day was a blank page, just waiting for you to make your mark on the world.
“How about one of these?” Megan piped behind me.
I turned and let out a snort as I scanned her outfit possibilities. The first was a white dress that was nearly identical to hers except for the ombre effect at the hemline, the white turning blue and silver. She’d even picked out some cute brown sandals. The second was a black, retro inspired romper. The off the shoulder look and embroidered white flowers would look killer with the wide brim hat she had perched on the hanger.
Her face fell when I dashed her valiant, but failed hope. “Good ideas, but I’m pretty sure the white dress wouldn’t even make it over my hips and the ladies-” I gripped my robust chest, which I swear was bigger than it was when I went to bed last night, “Will not fit in the black one.”
“Oh,” she twisted her mouth in defeat, returning them to the rack. “I was hoping we could match. Take this bestie thing to the next level.”
“I’m so on board,” I winked, walking right past all the designer and svelte pieces that I’d outgrown around month 2 of my pregnancy. There was a section of my closet that I lived in now, and that was the free flowing, breathable, functional and still fashionable section. I passed over florals and geometrics, fingertips dancing over a sleek black number that I was planning on wow-ing Jacob with very soon. I hit the brakes on a color block dress that was perfect. The top was white and the bottom half was a lush turquoise that reminded me of the beach. Just running my fingertips along the gold threads took me back to the beach. Touch alone transported me back to the sand, the ocean breeze, and virgin pina coladas served in pineapples. “How about this one?”
Megan gave it two thumbs up. “I like!” She craned her neck past me and I followed her line of sight, thinking she was drawn to the mirrors.
My heart dropped to the floor when I realized she’d locked her sights on our toy chest.
Oversized, with worn leather accents and shiny metal buckles, it definitely looked out of place among the sleek modernity of everything else in the apartment.
“What’s with the old school steamer trunk? You two hiding a body?” Megan scooted up beside me and dropped her voice confidentially. “Is Rachel Laraby in there?”
Usually, a Rachel joke, no matter how morbid, would draw at least a chuckle, but I stumbled over my words, turning red as a tomato. “We should get going, don’t want to be late for my own baby shower!”
~
Everything was going....well?
That question mark and confusion made me warily take in the scene. A scene that should have been a horror show of epic proportions. We were beneath the gazebo in Lake Merced Park and Megan had truly outdone herself, transforming the space into something whimsical.
We’d walked the lake together when we wanted to switch it up from the gym, daydreaming about how cool a party beneath the gazebos would be. Curious for work purposes, I’d checked online and it was booked well into next year. The task of taking the rustic space and turning it into something elegant made me defer to the more capable hands of the event planners at Whitmore and Creighton.
Clearly, I had a party planning extraordinaire right under my nose.
She’d cordoned off the space around the gazebo, with white picket fence themed stakes and a security detail that stood guard and kept the paparazzi at a distance. Ivy wrapped around the posts that supported the roof, string lights twinkling in the shadows. The tables were covered with white and brown burlap cloths and wooden picture frames. There were pictures of me and Jacob and my baby bump, grinning, glowing all around. Tea light candles swayed in the breeze, and a white banner with gold lettering trumpeted #whitmorebaby2016. It should have induced hardcore eye rolling, but it was a beautiful, modern, hashtag worthy celebration. The star-studded guest list consisted of me, Megan, my mother, and Alicia Whitmore.
Snuggling in my seat in the center of the space, I stroked my belly with a smirk. You’re gonna be instal-famous, lil mama! Even as I placed my money on a little girl, I could hear Jacob saying that he was sure it was a boy. We’d agreed to wait until the big day to find out the gender, and it was driving our mothers crazy.
Glancing at said mothers over the rim of my sunglasses, my smile stalled on my lips.
Mom was practically rubbing shoulders with Alicia and somehow, pigs were not flying, locusts were not swarming, and the end of days were not upon us. They were even practically matching, like me and Megan. My mother wore a denim dress with pearl buttons that ran from her collar to the hem, that fell just past her knees. Her salt and pepper locks were pulled into a beehive inspired bun, and she was wearing cooler glasses than I was, the retro wings studded with pearls and crystals.
Alicia, of course, was dressed in a crisp sheath dress that was chambray colored with an ivory sweater draped across her bare shoulders. From the way she stormed in and out of our lives, I’d always pictured her in permanent shoulder pads, leaving nothing but a trail of bodies and destruction in her wake. Today, she was on her best behavior, fixing her freshly cut and colored hair in a compact. She was a newly minted blonde, with baby blue designer shades to match.
I eyed them suspiciously as my mother roped an arm around her new BFF.
“Smile, Alicia! This is for The Facebook!”
I wiggled out of my chair, headed toward Megan. She was helping the waiter, Holden, stir and pour lemonade in p
ink and blue tumblers.
“It is weird that they’re getting along, right?” I asked, even though I knew the answer to my question.
Megan finished stirring, making sure the level of drink was uniform across the board. “I’m confused—I thought you were worried they wouldn’t get along? Now you’re freaking because they are?”
I picked up one of the glasses, bringing it to my lips. “The last time they were together, I had to hide anything sharp and weapon-like, and-” I stopped mid-sentence, my taste buds exploding with delight. This wasn’t your basic, run-of-the-mill lemonade. I tasted lemon, mint, and a hint of strawberry. Even the little one seemed to give the lemonade a thumbs up. “Oh my God, this is delicious!”
Megan stopped fussing with the spread, beaming. “Top secret recipe, dusted off for my bestie and god baby!” She reached towards my belly and stopped a few inches short of touching it, like she hit an electric fence with a sign posted that read, ‘NO TRESPASSING’.
Smiling, I gently pulled her hand the rest of the way. “Keep the lemonade coming and you can cop all the feels you want.”
Her olive eyes sparkled with joy when she made contact. “We can’t wait to meet you, Megan!” I swept her hand off with a chuckle and she shrugged nonchalantly. “Or Cade, if it’s a boy.”
I rolled my eyes and swiped another lemonade. “You’re about as bad as my mom.” Speaking of my mom...
I glanced back over, expecting whatever spell had been cast on the two of them to have faded a bit, revealing a barbed comment or scowl or two. I came up empty. They were huddled over their phones, giggling like they were the best of friends.
I cast an incredulous look back at Megan, but she was nonplussed, rounding up refreshments. “Just look at them, Meg!”
Holden was ready to take the drinks over, but Megan took over the honors. She paused long enough to toss a frown over her shoulder before heading toward the newly chummy duo. “They look happy, Leila. Jesus, it’s almost like you wish they were throwing down right now, like some trashy reality TV show.”
I shook my head and stubbornly crossed my arms against chest. “No, it’s not that-”
“You know how I threatened to take anyone out who disrupted your day?” Megan gave me a stern look that transported us to her classroom and I was on thin ice. “That includes you.”
And with that, she joined our guests. All of them smiling brightly like a glistening ad for new beginnings.
I watched the scene in silence, slurping on my lemonade suspiciously. Was I ruining my own party? Sabotaging it with my surly attitude, living in the past? Had my brattiness spilled into my social life, too?
I nibbled on my bottom lip, still unwilling to let go of my skepticism. Hadn’t my mother all but said she was hoping Alicia would catch that bug a few days ago? And I hadn’t even seen Alicia in over a month. But here we all were, letting bygones be bygones.
For the baby.
I let my eyes drop to my belly, the baby girl (or boy) that had brought us all together. We’d all been through so much, hurt each other, all but burned bridges...and here we were, putting all that aside for the baby.
Well, there they were, letting go and celebrating, and I was on the outside looking in, searching for a catch. Eyes peeled for catastrophe. Stressing myself out at my baby shower...and that was 100% on me.
I could keep pouting, which I pretty much had down pat, considering all the fake smiling I’d been doing and the fact that I’d just pushed my food around my plate at Cafe 29. Or, I could put on my big girl pants and play along. Be grateful that my best friend put this celebration together and accomplished the impossible—bringing Cheryl Montgomery and Alicia Whitmore together, and insults weren’t flying.
Or, I could keep throwing my solo temper tantrum, guzzling lemonade, and prove that stubbornness wasn’t just a Jacob thing.
I lifted my glass to the waiter and trudged over to my family and best friend. All eyes shot to me, then down to my belly, and the conversation went quiet. Their gazes turned me into the one that was acting strangely.
I opened my mouth, ready to announce that I was not the elephant in the room, then clamped my mouth shut and took a deep breath. After I exhaled, I stapled a smile to my face.
“What’s up?” I said, hoping the cheer I was forcing into my voice would translate to real deal joy. I put aside my own baggage. For the baby. For Megan. For me. Hell, even for my mom and Alicia. I knew my mother was a social butterfly and a free day was a rarity, and she made the time for me. And Alicia had foundations, charity work, and a household of servants to rule, so it meant something that she was here, too.
Mom was the first one to answer, wielding her phone like a weapon and aiming it right at me. “We were just about to place bets on when you’d stop pouting and join us. Say cheese!”
I was nowhere near ready and sure that I was cringing in the photo, but she proclaimed that I looked amazing. Still overwhelmed, I wasn’t quick enough to dodge her when she hustled out of her seat and started fussing over me. “I don’t know how you tamed those locks, but keep it up.” She toyed with my bangs and cradled my cheek for a moment, her eyes glassy with tears. I smiled at her, really smiled, but the moment was short-lived when she reached for my breasts and weighed the right one, then the left. “Pregnancy looks good on you, honey.”
It was impossible for me to blush any harder.
I extricated myself from her, laughing in spite of my embarrassment. “Keep your hands to yourself, Mom, or the fresh headlines from the paps will read, ‘Whitmore Baby Shower Goes XXX’.”
She pecked my cheek and I didn’t wipe it away, turning back to Megan and Alicia. Megan’s expression was a mixture of ‘Finally!’ and ‘Awww!’. Before I could apologize to her, and maybe reluctantly apologize to Alicia, Megan gasped and swiped her phone, eyes glued on the screen as she secreted away from the group. Alicia was unreadable, and it had very little to do with her oversized, pastel shades. She literally looked like someone had taken an eraser to her face and scrubbed away everything except her cold beauty.
She did crack the facade long enough to smile at my mother and I. “I agree with Cheryl—you are positively glowing, Leila.”
I couldn’t help but gape. The white flag I was ready to wave had suddenly wrapped around my vocal chords.
Instantly, my mom was back in my face, her eyes clouding with worry. “What’s wrong?” She pressed a hand to my forehead, then dropped it to my belly. “Is it the baby?”
Her anxiety was contagious and I wrangled that, along with my slack jawed disbelief, and pushed it to the back of my mind. “I think I just got a little winded.” It was a bold-faced lie, and it did nothing to quell my mother’s worry.
She shepherded me to a chair, calling Holden over with a water. I peeked over at Alicia and for the briefest moment, we were on the same wavelength. She knew, that I knew, that this was a definite first for us. I was pretty sure that me growing a second appendage would have happened long before Alicia Whitmore paid me a compliment.
Holden sprang into action, bringing over a bottle of water, and a small bowl of lemon and lime in record time. “Here you go, Mrs. Whitmore.” He was on it, turning to my mom, then Alicia. “Anything for you two?”
Both of them shook their heads in unison, their attention on me.
“I’m fine, thanks,” Alicia assured him.
With a smile.
A smile.
I picked up the ginger ale, sipping it as I eyeballed my mother-in-law. “I’m fine. Really. How are you, Alicia?”
She looked equally surprised by my question. “I’m...well?” She glanced at my mother, then back at me, with that same bizarre Twilight Zone smile.
She didn’t do smiles. And she certainly didn’t do niceties unless there was a string long enough to hang someone attached.
Megan re-emerged, her smile so big, so warm, that I couldn’t help but remind myself to let it go a second time. This time, I meant it.
“Here’s your shower
surprise, all the way from London!”
London? That means-
I leapt from my chair. “Mia!”
I kind of forgot everyone else but the smiling, happy, healthy young woman who was waving at me like a maniac on the screen. It was hard to believe she was the same vaguely stoned, entitled, rude woman who’d sauntered into our first meeting: late, on her phone, and clearly crying out for help.
Mia Kent grew up in the spotlight, starring in family friendly fare, making her a household name. When she hit 18, she went off the deep end.
When we met, she’d shuffled in with a punk rock edge that was hiding the hurt: a painful, unhealthy relationship with her mother, toxic friends. The epitome of sex, drugs, and rock and roll. Today, her blonde hair was cut to her chin, the curls framing her fair complexion as she pushed her heart-shaped glasses to the crown of her head and gave me an unobstructed view of how well she was doing. Her sky blue eyes were filled with happiness as she let out a squeal, covering her mouth as tears filled her eyes.
“You look amazing, Leila!” she exclaimed. “Gosh, you’re all glowy, and your tits look amazing-”
“Mia!” I hissed, laughing and ignoring my mom as she leaned forward and mouthed, ‘I told you so!’.
We caught up briefly and she promised as soon as she and Liam got back to The States, her first stop was to see me and the baby.
“And just in case you guys haven’t decided on a name, Mia is kind of awesome,” she suggested with a toothy grin.
I laughed and told her to be safe, handing the phone back to Megan. We spent the rest of the afternoon playing what I was sure was the Cards Against Humanity equivalent of baby shower games before we packed it up, thanking Holden and security for all their help.
Megan and Alicia started talking charity work, and my mom looped her arm in mine. She leaned in and said the words that always made me feel like everything was gonna be alright.
“I love you, Leila.”
I planted a kiss on her cheek, trying not to cry. God, I was lucky. When I heard what suspiciously sounded like a laugh coming from Alicia’s mouth, I couldn’t resist picking my mom’s brain a bit.