I nodded, and I kept nodding. It was the only thing keeping me from crying. I had to get out of there, away from her, at least for the moment, before I totally lost it here, in this public place. “Good to see you.” I turned and walked away. I had to. My chest was going to burst with emotion all over Scott’s mom’s grave.
Wiping my eyes while walking back to the car procession, which was about to leave for the post-funeral banquet, I ran into Liz and her partners. We shook hands all around, and I choked down a sob or two. “Thank you so much for coming,” I said.
“Of course,” Liz said. “We’re so sorry.”
I pulled out a handkerchief, blew my nose, and nodded. “So…how’s business?” Enough death, dying, and existential crises for one day. It was time to get back to brass tacks, to my comfort zone.
Liz shrugged. “Could be better.”
It had been bothering me for days how I’d taken down their company in Tokyo. I wasn’t sure why. Maybe it had been because she was a fellow Rambler. Whatever it was, I had regrets. “Look. I’m sorry about how everything went down. I didn’t mean to be that big a dick.”
“Yes, you did.” She chuckled.
“Okay, yes, I did.” I glanced over at Scott, who was now talking to Tommy and Susie, who was holding Maeve. My mom had gone back to talking to my dad like he was a stranger she just met. It was the same way she’d just talked to me. It was how the entire world would talk to me if I moved to Tokyo for a few months, if I kept traveling and moving and working at the pace I’d been. “I think you guys are great, though,” I told Liz. “You’re young, you need more capital and connections, but you’re great.” I drew in a deep breath.
Liz laughed. “If only you old guys could throw us a bone once in a while.”
“Where’d be the fun in that?” I waved my phone at her. I had to get out of here, to go home and pack before my flight, before I took off for Tokyo for three months—the first three months of my son’s life.
Almost at my car, I paused.
Maybe I owed it to myself—and Erin and James—to give this one more shot, to give her one more chance to let me back in. No regrets. Nothing left unsaid.
I pulled out my phone typed two simple sentences: “I’m sorry. Please give me one more chance. Please, Erin.”
And…crickets.
…
Erin
“Has anyone seen my phone?” I yelled over the roaring sound of the hair dryers. Nat, Katie, and I were getting our hair and makeup done before the Gala tonight.
Katie, in the seat next to me, rummaged through my purse. “I don’t see it. Is it in your pocket?”
I patted my hips. I was wearing a cotton dress. “I don’t have any pockets. Shit.” My eyes scanned the floor around my chair. No phone, just hair clippings.
“Have you seen my charger?” came Nat’s voice behind me.
My eyes met Nat’s in the mirror. “Crap.”
“You left it in the gym,” she said.
I nodded. “Sorry.” I hit the side of my head. “Pregnancy brain.” I’d left my phone charging in the Glenfield Academy gym, where I’d plugged it in while setting up for the Gala this morning.
“No problem,” Nat said. “I’ll get it tonight.”
I examined my face now. Yvette, my stylist, was currently playing around with my pixie cut, preparing to add little crystal butterflies to my hair. I’d already had my makeup done—an iridescent eye shadow paired with a smoky eyeliner. Super dramatic. Paired with my slinky blue dress, I’d look like a whole new Erin tonight.
Aside from the whole swollen legs/stomach like a beach ball thing, I was a fox. A catch.
Too bad I had no one to impress.
Maria bombarded Nat, Katie, and me as soon as we stepped foot in the gym later that evening after we’d gotten all gussied up. “The cake!” she screeched. “The cake is ruined.” She apparently hadn’t left the gym all afternoon and had planned to get dressed at school. Her hair was up in curlers, and she wore only a robe.
“What’s wrong with the cake?” I asked, dessert being the most important part of any fund-raising event.
“Come see.” She dragged us toward the dessert table on the far side of the gym, next to the stage. The place looked great, honestly. The Glenfield Academy gym had been transformed into a luxury ballroom, complete with twinkling lights and candles. The black, white, and silver theme made the whole thing très chic.
“Look.” Maria pointed at the cake.
The two-tiered confection had been covered in white roses and piped with silver ribbons. “It’s gorgeous,” I said.
“Yeah.” Maria’s nostrils flared. “Now taste it.”
“Taste it?” Nat asked.
“Try a bit of the frosting.”
I glanced at my friends. Maria had lost her mind. She was now asking me to behave like a three-year-old at his birthday party, dunking my finger into the icing before the cake had been cut.
Maria dove right in. She plunked her index finger directly into the bottom tier and scooped out a glop of frosting.
“You ruined the cake,” I said.
“Try it.” Her eyebrows narrowed to a V.
I leaned over and licked a bit of frosting from her finger. “What the?” I spit it out immediately and wiped my mouth with my forearm. “That’s disgusting.” Katie handed me a cocktail napkin from the nearby bar and I used it to clean my tongue.
Maria pointed accusingly at the cake. “The bakery used flour instead of powdered sugar. The whole thing’s inedible.”
My shoulders dropped. “Dang.”
“Exactly.”
“What are we going to do?” The rollers bobbed against Maria’s head.
I almost asked her what she was going to do—seeing as she was the fund-raising chair. But she also appeared to be in a very fragile state right now, and she was currently still in her dressing gown, while the other ladies and I had come completely glammed up.
Also, I was the boss.
“Katie.” I pointed to my sister. “Go to Mariano’s. They have delicious desserts—pick up some cupcakes. People love cupcakes.”
“They do,” Katie agreed.
“Nat, call the bakery and tell them what happened. We expect a full refund.”
“Aye-aye.” She glanced around the room. “But I need my charger.”
I pointed to the other end of the gym, near the door. “You’ll find it over there, with my phone.”
Maria looked at me expectantly.
“And you,” I said, “go get beautiful.”
All the girls took off on their various tasks, and I spun around to survey the scene. We were still about a half hour away from when we’d open the doors. The decorating committee was currently lighting candles and setting up place cards. I stepped over to the bar and grabbed a bottle of Dasani.
“Erin!”
Mouth full of water, I glanced up to see Nat sprinting toward me.
“Erin.” She waved my phone in my face. “Ian texted.”
I covered my mouth to keep the water from dribbling onto my dress.
She handed me the phone and waited while I read the messages. “I’m sorry. Please give me another chance,” then “I’m getting on a plane to Tokyo tonight, but I don’t want to. Tell me you want to try to work things out,” then “I miss you so much.”
Nat, hand on hip, said, “He texted you.” She raised a perfectly plucked eyebrow. “He. Texted. You.”
I stared at the phone. That’s what I’d said I wanted, right? That I’d been waiting for him to get in touch with me. And now he had.
My fingers grazed the screen as if ready to give him everything he wanted.
I pushed the phone away from my body. “No. What’s changed? Is he just going to hurt me again?”
“You won’t know unless you text him back.” Nat shoved the phone toward my chest.
“But I said I’d be fine on my own.” Texting Ian back would amount to failure on my part. “And I am. Totally, utterly fine. I—�
�
Something pinged in my gut.
“It’s not that you’re not ‘fine’ on your own,” Nat said. “It’s just that maybe you’d be more fine with Ian, and he with you. You’ve been miserable without each other. Maybe try being happy for once.”
I grabbed my midsection. “What the…heck?” I caught myself before the very un-principal-like “fuck” slipped out. I was at work, after all. A trickle of wetness had started running down my leg. My underwear was wet.
Did I just pee in my goddamn pants? I glanced down at my gorgeous blue dress. A circle of wetness grew just below my groin on my ice-blue dress.
“Erin?” Nat draped an arm around my shoulders. “You okay?”
I was still peeing. More and more liquid kept dribbling down my leg. But no. I wasn’t peeing. I was actively stopping the flow of urine, at least I thought I was.
My skin chilled as the realization hit me. “I think my water broke.” My knees buckled, but Nat helped keep me upright.
“Oh my God. We have to get you to the hospital. I’ll call Katie to come back.” She was on her phone in a split second.
I held my own phone with shaking fingers. “And I’ll text Ian.”
Chapter Fifteen
Ian
I chuckled as the credits rolled on One Day at a Time. Erin had suggested I watch this show, and I’d “whatevered” her about it until today.
I stood and stretched my legs in the business class lounge, downed the remainder of my scotch, and checked the departure board. My flight to Tokyo was still delayed, as we were waiting on a plane from Denver or something. I didn’t care about the logistics.
After buying a second drink, I flopped back in my chair and turned on another episode of One Day at a Time.
“Great show,” said the woman next to me.
My knee-jerk reaction was to counter with a “not interested,” but instead I looked over. She wore a wedding ring and her hands cradled a definitely pregnant belly. Like, so pregnant, I wouldn’t feel weird commenting on it. “Congrats,” I said.
She rubbed her stomach. “Thanks.”
I turned back to my show, which no longer tamped down my loneliness. This sadness would go away, eventually. It happened when my mom left, and it happened when my childhood dog died. At some point, probably weeks or months from now, I’d be totally fine.
About halfway through the episode, my ears registered the word “Tokyo” through my headphones. I pressed pause and listened. My flight was now boarding.
I packed my tablet and picked up my bag, nodding goodbye to the pregnant lady next to me. I stepped toward the door and hesitated a moment before reaching into my briefcase.
I’d turned off my phone as a defense mechanism, so that I wouldn’t have to endure the silence of not hearing from Erin. At least with the power off, I could pretend that maybe she was texting me back.
But now, just before boarding a thirteen-hour flight, I had to give us one more shot. I turned my phone on and waited for the inevitable nothing.
My phone buzzed.
And it buzzed again.
I had a text. From Erin.
Right there on my home screen.
“Ian, my water broke. Meet me at the hospital.”
I dropped the phone, spinning around as if looking for confirmation that this was really happening.
“You okay?” the pregnant lady asked.
“My…” What even was Erin to me now? Shit. “The woman I love is in labor,” I announced.
My new pregnant friend clapped with joy. “Congratulations. Are you flying to see her?” She nodded toward the departure board.
Was I flying to…? I shook my head. “No.” I picked up my phone. “No. I’m flying away from her. I have to go to her.”
“Where is she?”
“Downtown,” I said.
She wrinkled her nose.
“What?”
“Good luck getting there.”
She pointed to the TV broadcasting the local news. A large protest currently marched its way up and down both sides of the Kennedy, the expressway I needed to get me into the city.
“Shit.”
“Good luck.” She returned to her book.
There was more than one way to get downtown. The blue line connected right to the airport. I hadn’t taken the El in years, but desperate times.
Before leaving the safety of the business class lounge, I called Erin, because texting wasn’t good enough. Yanking at my hair, I waited as her phone rang.
…
Erin
None of this matched up with my birthing plan. It was all wrong. This was not how my child was supposed to enter the world.
When I had gone to the birthing class, I’d been all, like, “Yes, I’m going au natural, no drugs, no nothing.” I’d planned on walking this baby out of my uterus, as nature intended.
But when I got to the hospital, Dana put me in a bed with an IV, pumping me full of antibiotics because of this dumb strep positive something or other—I didn’t understand the full scope of the situation. And then she strapped a fetal monitor to my gut. And then there was the whole thing where I was leaking fluid everywhere I went, which seemed to make Katie and Nat pretty uncomfortable, so I stayed in bed, like a patient, like a chump. I was no longer in charge. I loathed not being in charge.
I checked my phone again. Still nothing from Ian.
“He’s not answering me,” I said. “Still.”
“He’s probably away from his phone,” Nat said. “Like you were all afternoon, remember?”
“Maybe he’s being all unresponsive out of spite. Maybe he’s playing games.”
“With a woman in labor?” Katie said. “Ian’d never be that callous. Right, Nat?”
Nat looked lost in thought. “Not with Erin,” she decided.
Oh, good. So I had to play Nat’s hunch that I was the exception to the rule.
I breathed through every contraction, envisioning the pain as it radiated from my midsection down through my legs to my toes. These were truly the worst period cramps known to womanhood. I tried to focus on The Office, which Katie had started streaming for me on the TV, but most of the jokes barely registered in my brain. I was on edge, waiting for the next wave of pain, never quite knowing when it was going to come or how bad it was going to get. That was the worst part, the not knowing. If things stayed the way they were, I could handle it. But where was my current pain on the scale? I had no frame of reference. If this was an eight, I could handle a ten. But, Holy Mother of God, if this was a four, I was fucked.
“I can’t do this,” I said.
“Sure you can.” Katie, texting away, mindlessly patted my hand.
“You’re doing great.” Nat fluffed my pillow, which only made me more uncomfortable. She was the opposite of Katie, hovering, cooing. It stressed me out. I felt like I had to acknowledge her every move, when really I just wanted to be left to my own devices. It was like when I had the flu or something. Just leave me alone with my TV. Let me handle this on my own. I was the boss, after all. At least, I used to be the boss. Today I felt more like a zoo animal whose entire nether regions were on display for all to see.
“When my sister had her baby, you could hear her screams for miles.” Nat squeezed my shoulder. “You’re doing way better, comparably.”
“Not helping.” I gritted my teeth, forcing my eyes to focus on Michael Scott. The last thing I wanted to do today was entertain people, to constantly reassure everyone else that I was doing fine, that I was super excited about this day and the fact that I was about to push a fully formed child through my vagina. The truth was, I was freaked the fuck out, constantly teetering on the edge between tears and anger.
Where was Ian?
“Can I get you more ice chips?” Natalie’s eyes were still on the door.
“No!” I barked. My next contraction was starting. And fuck the ice chips. Fuck all of this motherfucking, cocksucking bullshit!
Nat bent down next to me and started
panting right in my goddamn ear, but it was the wrong rhythm, the wrong depth. I tried to push her away, but she took it to mean that I wanted to hold her hand. She clutched mine, and it was all wrong. Her hands weren’t strong enough. They were too smooth, too small.
“Stop watching the door!” I cried as the pain reached my toes. “He’s not coming!”
“He might be,” Natalie said.
“He also might not be.” Damn it. I’d been doing just fine on my own without Ian. I gestured toward The Office on the TV, tears streaming down both cheeks. “Maybe I don’t need a guy like Ian. If anything, I need Jim, someone safe who will go all-in on me, who won’t bail, who will prioritize me over everything. That is not Ian Donovan.”
Katie’s phone made a noise like she’d just sent a text. I’d been hearing that stupid sound all afternoon. “It took Jim, like, one hundred years to get up the nerve to tell Pam how he felt.”
Curse Katie and her TV trivia knowledge. What did she actually know about anything? Jim was perfect. Jim was the ideal. “But he did tell her eventually,” I said. “And he stuck by her.”
“And then they had marriage trouble in the later years.”
“What the fuck, Katie?” I said. “Why are you arguing with a woman in labor? Jim is perfect, full stop. Leave it alone!”
“Maybe you should face facts that you’re not a Jim girl,” Nat said softly. She was still next to me, cradling her own hand like a wounded bird. I’d crushed it during the last contraction. Not my problem. Not today. Sorry, Natalie.
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Jim’s too sweet for you, too romantic. He’d be all up in your business all the time, being too nice, and you’d lose it. Like you said when I was telling you about how Chris and I are in touch constantly. You’re not that kind of girl. You like your space. Ian can give you space.”
“You’re so right!” Katie said. “Erin would eat a guy like that alive.”
“That’s why you and Ian kind of made sense.” Nat kept bringing up Ian, like her crushed hand had taught her nothing about the force of my rage.
Knocked-Up Cinderella Page 19