by Becky Monson
“You do? Why?” I ask, disappointment obvious in my voice.
“Bobby had some sort of pipe burst in the basement. She wants me to come and check it out.” He reaches down and pulls me up to standing, then pulls me into him and kisses me softly. “Mmm, buttermilk donut,” he says as he tastes the donut that I was just eating on my lips.
“I’ll call you later,” he says as I walk him to the door. He gives me another quick kiss before he leaves.
I guess I’ll have to save the conversation about the bakery expansion for another time. It needs to be soon, though, before I get stuck too deep and can’t get out of it.
~*~
“What’s going on here?” I ask as I look in the mirror, investigating my arms. I’m in a floor-length plum halter dress by Badgley Misch-something. It’s been the top runner of dresses for the gala so far. And a great designer according to Brown. I’ll have to take her word for it.
“What do you mean?” Brown asks. She’s seated in the corner of the dressing room looking at her phone. We’re shopping for a dress for the gala. She’s going to the gala too, since Spectraltech is being featured as well, and she was their top salesperson last year. But of course, Brown found her dress months ago because that’s what Brown does. I, as usual, like to wait until time is crucial. Because that’s what I do.
“Look at this,” my eyes widen as I take in the dangling skin that’s hanging from the underside of my upper arms.
She looks up from her phone at me staring the mirror at my arms. “Batwings,” she says simply.
“Batwings?” I say, horrified.
“It happens when you get older and you haven’t worked out enough,” she says this very matter-of-fact like.
Information that would’ve been useful a decade ago.
“You do realize you just insulted me twice,” I say, turning around to look her in the eyes. She gives me a look like she’s not following. “You said I was old and didn’t work out.”
“Jules, you know what I meant.” She stands up and comes over to the mirror to inspect me closer. “Anyway, you don’t have true batwings … just, you know, the beginnings of them.”
“You’re not making it better,” I say, my mouth forming into a pout. “Look!” I say and start waving in the mirror, watching the skin on my underarm jiggle around.
“How much waving do you plan on doing at this gala?” Brown asks. “It’s not like you’re royalty.”
“That’s true. And if I just keep my arms down at my sides like this, no one will see them.” I start walking around the dressing room, my arms plastered to my sides.
“That looks totally natural,” she deadpans. “Jules, you’ll be fine. This dress is perfect on you. You look like a million bucks.”
I stop my robot walking and look in the mirror. This is by far the best dress I’ve found. I’m so sick of trying on dresses, especially gowns. Ball gowns, wedding gowns—it’s exhausting. The most draining part is squeezing myself into the Spanx. Thank goodness for them, though. They hold me in, in all the right places. I just have to be careful not to breathe, or sit down, or use the bathroom.
“Did I tell you Lisa will be there?” I ask, looking at myself in the mirror.
“Yes, you did,” Brown says. “How are you feeling about all of that?”
“About her coming to the gala, or the article?” I ask.
“Both. But mostly the article,” she says.
We haven’t discussed the article yet. I texted her before we met up to go dress shopping and said I didn’t want to talk about it. I knew I wouldn’t get away with not talking about it with Brown.
“Not much I can do about that stupid article,” I say, examining the small train on the back of the dress in the mirror.
“Uh, you could say something to her,” Brown says, looking at me in the mirror, her eyebrows pulled together.
“Yes, because I’m so good at that,” I say, and Brown nods her head in agreement. “Besides what can she do? Print a retraction? The Denver Post would like to apologize to Julia Dorning for the comments made about her unkempt hair and dowdy looks.”
Brown laughs, but then her face quickly takes on a serious look. “Well, at least you could say something to her.”
“I don’t want her to think she’s affected me,” I say.
“Good point,” Brown says, conceding, which is a rarity for her. “Plus, all publicity is good publicity, right?”
“Well, we won’t really know until tomorrow,” I say into the mirror as I go back to flicking the skin on my underarms. My batwings.
Brown suddenly bursts into tears. What the—
“Brown?” I turn around and grab her by the arms. “What’s wrong?”
“Tomorrow’s the insemination,” she says through her tears.
“Why are you crying?” I ask. “This is exciting. You could be getting pregnant tomorrow,” I say, shaking her slightly as if I might force a smile out of her.
“I don’t know.” She pulls back from me, her finger going under her eye to wipe a tear. “I’m a freaking mess. I cry over everything. It’s all these hormones they have me on.”
“Of course,” I say. I actually had no idea there were hormones involved.
“There’s a lot riding on this, you know?” The tears start coming out faster.
“Yes,” I say, placing a hand on her arm. “But this isn’t your only chance. You can do this more than once, right?”
“Yeah.” She sniffles.
“And then IVF if that doesn’t work, right?”
Brown nods.
I know Brown, though. She has this all planned out and she wants this first time to work. It’ll make up for the feeling of failing she’s had since this whole fertility thing happened.
She wipes her eyes and then comes over to me and unzips my dress. I slide out of it, avoiding the mirror so I don’t have to see myself in Spanx. No one wants to see that. I’m sure Brown doesn’t.
“It’ll be fine, Brown,” I say as I literally peel myself out of the Spanx.
“Come on, let’s go buy this dress,” Brown says, grabbing the dress from me and hanging it on the hanger. Just like Brown. When she’s done with a conversation, she moves on. I need to be more like that.
“Even with the batwings?” I ask as I start putting on my jeans.
“Even with the batwings,” she says with a wink.
CHAPTER 11
“Bless your heart,” Patti says to me the next morning as I enter the bakery.
“Ah,” I say, nodding my head slowly. “You saw the article.”
“Well, of course I did,” she says, pointing a rather large spatula at me. “I mean, the way she mocked you, and that picture … mmm,” she shakes her head, lips pursed disapprovingly. “She’s got your number, that one.”
“Please, Patti, don’t hold back,” I say with unmistakable cynicism. “Anyway, she doesn’t ‘have my number,’ I’m on to her.” Well, she’s pretty conniving. I definitely need to tread lightly where Lisa’s concerned.
Unfortunately, or rather I guess fortunately (depending how you look at it), Lisa’s column only helps the bakery. We’re busy from the minute the doors open and we don’t slow down until well after our normal time. We barely have time to get ready for the lunch rush.
I’m in the back trying to ice sugar cookies at lightning speed when my phone rings.
“Jules,” Brown says, sounding a little frantic as I answer.
“What’s up Brown, everything okay?”
“Not really,” she says with a sniff.
“What’s wrong?” I ask, moving away from the cookies and into my office where I can get some privacy.
“I’m at the fertility doctor,” she says. “We’re about to do the insemination.”
“So what’s the problem? Is there something wrong with … uh … the procedure?”
“No, everything’s fine. It’s just that Matt isn’t here,” she says through sniffles.
“Why isn’t Matt there?” I a
sk, totally confused.
“I don’t know. He’s not answering his phone and he’s a half hour late. The doctor just told me we can’t wait much longer or we chance losing his … uh … swimmers that he left this morning.”
“Crap, Brown. What can I do?”
“Can you meet me here? I don’t want to do this on my own,” she says, her voice quivering slightly.
“Of course,” I say.
“I’m on Eighteenth, only three blocks from the bakery.”
“I’m on my way,” I say, and end the call. I grab my purse and tell Patti I’ll be back as soon as I can. Only an hour until the lunch rush.
~*~
“I’m here to see Betsy Brown,” I say breathlessly to a young super-model-looking woman sitting at the front desk of the fertility doctor’s office. I ran the three blocks here. I’ve seriously got to get in shape. My heart feels like it’s about to burst.
The receptionist has a nonchalance about her that instantly grates on my nerves. Doesn’t she know this is an emergency? Not only is my best friend about to possibly get pregnant, but I might be having a panic attack. Seriously, my heart rate won’t go back to normal.
“She’s in room three. Just go in the door there,” she points to a door to my left. “Take a right past the nurse’s station. It’s the third room on the left.”
I open the door with so much gusto that it hits the doorjamb with a loud thud. I race pass the nurses station to room three and knock lightly.
“Come in,” I hear Brown’s muffled voice through the door.
I walk into the room and find Brown lying on the bed, her feet are up in the stirrups and a sheet covers her from the waist down. She’s wearing a dressy blush colored top. It’s kind of an odd sight, really.
“Thanks for coming,” she says through sniffles. A tear drips down her face.
“Of course,” I say grabbing her hand in mine. “I’m glad I could be here.”
“I still don’t know where Matt is,” she says, another tear escaping. “If he’s stuck in a meeting, I’m going to kill him. I mean, I know we have to do this a little backwards, but we’re still trying to conceive a child here.” Tears start streaming. I drop her hand and search the room for a tissue. I find a box on the counter in the small office and hand her one.
“Thanks,” she says through tears.
“This is a happy day, Brown,” I say, giving her a little smile. “And I know Matt would be here if he could. Something must be holding him up.”
Her eyes widen. “Do you think he got in a car accident? What if he’s hurt?”
I grab her hand again. “I’m sure he’s fine.” This is only to appease her because I’m not actually sure he’s okay. My brain has suddenly run off with itself and all the possibilities. I mean, what if he’s actually hurt? He could be in a ditch somewhere. He could’ve been in a car accident and they could be life-flighting him to the hospital as we speak. So many terrible possibilities. My heart that had just started to slow starts to pick up the pace again. Sheesh, what is wrong with me? I never used to think this way. Okay, I’ve always been a sort of glass-half-empty person, but I swear it’s gotten worse.
“Thank you for being here, Jules,” she squeezes my hand, pulling me back from my panic.
There’s a knock at the door and we both look at it, hoping it’s Matt. Instead, the doctor enters the room. He’s not exactly what I was expecting. I was thinking an older man, maybe in his early sixties. This guy looks to be in his late forties and an awful lot like George Clooney, actually. I’m not sure I’d want someone that good looking all up in my business.
“Still no word from Matt?” the doctor asks, looking from Brown and then to me.
“No,” Brown says with a sniff. “My friend Julia is here to give me moral support.” We both let out little awkward laughs.
It’s then that it truly sets in how awkward this situation is. I’m holding hands with my best friend while her George Clooney look-alike doctor gets ready to attempt to impregnate her. I mean, if this takes, what do you tell your kid? I got pregnant with you by the doctor while your aunty Julia was holding my hand because your dad couldn’t make it in time. This is so not normal.
A nurse, who looks like she might be a supermodel in her off hours (what is with this office?) comes in.
“Are you two ready for this?” She motions her head toward Brown and me.
“Yes,” Brown says in response, just as I was going to say that I was only a stand in for Matt. The nurse’s use of the words “you two” makes me think she might have the wrong idea.
“You know, I just love being a part of something this special. A same-sex couple trying to conceive is such a beautiful thing.”
Yep. Most definitely the wrong idea.
“I, uh, we …” I start.
“It’s just such a beautiful thing,” the nurse repeats herself, her eyes glossing over as she looks at Brown and me.
My mouth drops open. I’m not sure what to say. Now I’m suddenly feeling like I don’t want to disappoint the nurse since she’s so full of emotions.
“We’re so excited too,” Brown says. Grabbing my hand and pulling it toward her, she gives me a quick little kiss on my fingers.
“What are you—”
Brown giggles and looks up at me. I’m so glad I can make this fun for her. And look at her, in her pretty shirt and her hair and makeup all done up. I’ve got a messy bun going on and I’m wearing a polo and no makeup at all. So I guess I know which role I play in the relationship. Which, you know, is offensive to all lesbians. Such stereotyping.
Dr. Clooney (I’m just going to call him that since I never got his name) must not have been listening to the conversation as he got everything ready because he turns to us as if he’s just joining the discussion.
“Okay, Betsy, are you ready for this?” he asks, holding a syringe with a long thin tube thing hooked to the end.
“And you?” the nurse gestures toward me.
“Julia,” Brown says, telling the nurse my name, a smile on her face as she keeps up the ruse.
“Are you ready, Julia?” Nurse Supermodel asks, her eyes bright with excitement.
“Um, sure,” I say reluctantly.
“I’m ready,” Brown says and then she grabs my hand tightly. I’m not sure how this works. Is there pain? Do I need to help her breathe through it? I should’ve asked more questions.
The nurse looks at us, tears filling her eyes again. She whispers a quiet “beautiful” as she takes in the sight. Oh geez.
“Okay,” Dr. Clooney says. “That’s it.”
Wait, that’s it? I feel like this should’ve been longer.
“Now you need to just lie here for about ten minutes and then you can be on your way. Make sure you and Matt have relations tonight, so that you have optimal chances.”
The nurse gives us a weird look at the mention of Matt.
“He’s, uh—“
“Our sperm donor,” Brown interjects, still holding onto my hand.
I’m going to kill her.
The nurse looks utterly taken aback. And why wouldn’t she? I mean, most lesbians probably don’t have “relations” with their sperm donor.
Dr. Clooney and the confused nurse make their goodbyes and leave us.
“You idiot,” I say, rolling my eyes and shaking my head at her.
She guffaws. “Well, we couldn’t exactly let her down after she was so excited for us, could we honey?” Brown says, as she rubs my arm tenderly, still laughing.
“Whatever,” I say, jerking my arm out of her reach.
“Hey, at least it took my mind off Matt not being here. He better have the best excuse ever.” She sniffs, the emotions coming to the surface again.
“So do you think it worked?” I ask.
She shrugs. “He said we have about a twenty percent chance of it working the first time.”
“So that’s a one in five chance. Not too bad of odds then?”
Suddenly the door swings op
en and Matt runs in.
“I got stuck in traffic. There was a huge accident on I-25. And I forgot my phone,” he says, his brow lightly covered with beads of sweat. He’s acting like a new father already with the panic in his voice and the color drained from his face.
He crosses the room and goes to Brown, putting his hands on either side of her face, and kisses her. Then he leans his forehead against hers and whispers how sorry he is over and over again.
Brown reaches up and wraps a hand around his neck. “It’s okay, baby,” she says back. “It’s all done.”
Matt pulls away from her and looks down at the draped bottom half of her body, her feet still in stirrups. “I’m so sorry I wasn’t here.”
“Julia stepped in,” she says. “The nurse thought we were a couple.”
Matt laughs. “That’s awesome.”
“Okay, you two. I think my work is done. I’m heading back to the bakery.”
“Jules, thanks again,” Brown says sincerely.
“Yeah, Jules, thanks for being here, we really appreciate it,” Matt says.
I step out of the room and leave Brown and Matt to their moment.
“Is she ready?” Nurse Supermodel asks as I pass the station on my way out of the office.
“Uh,” I say awkwardly.
She gives me a confused look.
“She, um, wanted a moment with the donor,” I say, keeping up the ruse for heaven knows why.
“Oh, okay,” the nurse says, her voice conveying the what-the-crap feeling we are both experiencing right now.
I contemplate explaining the whole thing to her, but then decide against it. It’ll be a fabulous story she can tell the other nurses.
I head back to the bakery and can’t help but feel a little giddy at the thought that I just witnessed something miraculous. Brown might be pregnant right now.
Life is pretty amazing.
CHA
PTER 12
Life pretty much sucks.
I mean, it doesn’t always suck, but right now it sort of does. I just had a not-so-fabulous conversation with Patti and Debbie where they both told me that if I don’t fix things with Kate, they’re both walking. That would be my millionth lesson in why putting things off doesn’t work. You’d think I’d have learned by now. Clearly, I haven’t.