Authors: Renee Manfredi
“He’s negative?”
“Oh yeah,” Jack said. “But anyway, Stuart is warming up to the idea of fatherhood. He’s always wanted a child.”
What the hell? Anna thought. What in the holy hell?
“I have no problem with Stuart being the biological father,” Greta said. “But listen, I called because I can’t drive up until tomorrow.”
“Yeah, that’s what I heard.”
“And also to tell you that I’m ovulating. Is Stuart willing to start this weekend? Could we try Saturday night?”
“Are you people completely insane?” Anna said into the phone.
“Hi, Anna,” Greta said.
“I don’t know about Saturday night,” Jack said. “Stuart and I have an agreement we’re still working out. One step, then another, quick, quick, quick, but one thing at time. Although, maybe once all the steps are lined up, Stuart would cotton to the idea. I mean, it might be six months before we get a bull’s eye, and nine months after
that
before the little fellow—or fella—arrives. By that time, Stuart and I will have been married for fifteen months. I’m guessing it will be all right to start tomorrow.”
“No, actually it is not all right,” Stuart said from the extension in the sun room.
“Is this a party line?” Greta said.
“It’s something, of course, Stuart and I will have to discuss,” Jack said.
“This is the most asinine idea I’ve ever heard,” Anna said.
“Ah, the voice of reason. Let’s hear it,” Stuart said.
“It’s wrong to bring a baby into this motley mix, in my opinion,” Anna said.
“Why?” Greta and Jack said together.
“Why? Why is it wrong? Because, Jack, at some point Stuart and Greta will be raising this child without you, to be perfectly blunt about it. He or she will have two broken households, one house with a single mother, and the other with a widowed father,” Anna said.
“The little fella will have a daddy who loves her, and a mother who loves her. I’m the third parent. How many kids have three parents? She’ll have a spare if something happens to one of us. Besides, she’ll have you,” Jack said.
“No,” Anna said, “she won’t. I won’t be a part of the baby’s life, should there be one. I won’t be here.”
A three-sided silence formed, and Anna made it a fourth, closing the square. Anna felt them waiting. Well, now would have to be the time. “I’m moving. I’m selling the house and moving. The house will be listed on Monday.”
“You’re what? And where am I going to bring my children for holidays, Mama?” Jack asked.
“Where will you go?” Greta said.
“I don’t know yet. Maybe to a retirement home where I can finally learn to play shuffleboard. Where I can live out the rest of my days in a depressing state facility as a bitter old woman in a dingy room with urine-stained carpeting. Maybe there,” Anna said.
“Hello and welcome to Maudlin Island, population: You,” Jack said.
“But I’m hanging up now. Hanging up in disappointment and disgust at the three of you. But before I do, I’ll say this. And this is aimed primarily at Jack, but the rest of you should take it under advisement: Grief is probably the second worst condition out of which to have a baby.”
“What’s the first?” Stuart asked.
“The first is having a baby because someone else wants you to. And now, if you all will excuse me, I have bacon to fry.”
“Anna, am I still welcome to visit this weekend?” Greta asked.
“Certainly. This is Jack’s home, too, and he and his partner are always welcome to invite their friends,” Anna said.
“
Their friends
? Thank you very, very much.” Greta started to cry.
“I didn’t mean it like that.” Anna paused. “Greta, I’m sorry.” She waited. “Jack, can you get off the phone for a second?” Anna asked.
“Whatever you have to say, I want to hear. No buffing the monkey.
Gilding the lily. Spill it,” Jack said.
Anna sighed. “Greta, grief makes people go haywire. Jack is grieving as much as Marvin and I are. I think he’s way too vulnerable to make a decision like this. And I’ve yet to hear Stuart weigh in on the subject.”
“Well, I agree with you, Anna,” Stuart said. “I do want a child. In fact, very much. But my idea is to take things slowly. House, marriage, baby.”
Jack drew in his breath sharply. “Wait,” he started.
“House?” Anna said. “What house? Mine?” This was all too much. “You know what, I don’t want to know anything else right now. I’m hanging up. I’m going to fry Baby Jesus his supper, then I’m going to bed. I don’t care what you do, but don’t even think about disturbing me before noon tomorrow.”
“Anna—” Jack said, but she’d already clicked off.
Greta did come on Saturday, but the unspoken agreement was that they would not talk about the previous night’s phone call. Anna peeled potatoes for chowder, Jack diced, and Stuart polished the silver. The lines of tension seemed to arise throughout the day in twos: first Greta and Anna, then Greta and Stuart, then Anna and Jack, and by the time dinner was ready to be served, Greta and Anna again.
Anna wondered what had happened between last night and noon today, when she left her room, and if the way Greta was dressed was a factor in any new development. She wore a pinafore-type thing over a skirt flounced with two ruffles, a peasant-style blouse, and Mary Jane T-straps. Her lips and nails were candy pink. From the way Greta was behaving toward Stuart—solicitous, laughing loud and falsely at Stuart’s lamest jokes—Anna suspected that Greta thought this outfit would be less threatening to Stuart than something spangly and beaded or overly vampy. Anna didn’t know. Except that if she were Stuart she’d be insulted. Did Greta really think Stuart would want to sire an heir with Little Bo Peep?
“Did I ever tell you the story of how I once broke both my legs in Vail?” Jack was saying. “I was skiing a run that would have been too advanced for me under the best of circumstances, but halfway down I thought I saw Antonio Banderas. I shushed as fast as I could, and the next thing I know, I’m ass over teakettle, looking up at some sixteen-year-old ski patroller who’s asking if I’m okay. I was in traction for six weeks.”
Greta laughed like it was the funniest thing she’d ever heard. Anna looked over at Stuart, who rolled his eyes.
“Excuse me,” Anna said.
“Where are you going?” Jack asked.
“We need more bread.” She walked into the kitchen. She dialed Marvin’s cell number.
“Where are you?” Anna asked when he clicked on.
“Upstairs. Working. What’s up?”
“Oh, nothing really. We’re having dinner. Come join us if you want.” Anna heard Joan Baez in the background. “Please join us, I mean. I’m drafting you to the battle. I have to call in the reinforcements.”
“What’s the war?” Marvin asked.
“The war of I can’t find anyplace to put what I’m feeling war. Among other things.”
The music cut off. “I’ll be right down. Meet me on the stairs.”
Anna grabbed the breadbasket, dropped it on the table as she whisked by. Only Stuart noticed. The dog followed her.
Anna sat midway up the staircase, Marvin beside her. He had clay in his hair and on his clothes and hands, and smelled of something newly made. “What’s going on in there?”
“A kind of love story, I guess.”
He shook his head, held out his hand, palm up.
“I think Greta’s here to get impregnated this weekend.”
Marvin sat upright, crossed his legs. “Excuse me? She’s what?”
“You heard me.” Anna blew her nose, and Baby Jesus, thinking this one of her niftier tricks, thumped his tail against the wall.
“Impregnated? By whom?”
“Who do you think?”
He paused. “Me?”
“Marvin,” she said.
“Well, who? The Spice Girls in there? I’m the only male in the household who isn’t neutered or gay.”
“I can’t deal with them right now. I can’t deal with tension very well these days.”
“Well, you shouldn’t have to.” He caressed the dog, who rested his head on the step between Anna and Marvin, and the rest of his body over the
four below. “I’ll tell you what. Why don’t you go upstairs, and I’ll bring dinner up to you. We can watch a DVD if you want. I’ve been working too much anyway.”
Anna paused. “That would be nice. Listen, thank you.”
“For what?” he asked.
“For always being kind to me, even the times when I didn’t deserve it.”
Marvin nodded, but was silent. He stroked the dog’s silky ears. “God, Flynnie loved this animal. Sometimes I think he’s really a person in a dog costume. Sometimes I’d swear I’ve seen her looking out at me through his eyes.”
Upstairs, Anna played her cello while waiting for the tub to fill. Just for the hell of it, she pitched the Bach suite to an F sharp, the key the old pipes were ringing in as the hot water gushed in through the ancient plumbing. It sounded like the soundtrack to a Hitchcock film. She put the cello down, bored. Went in to check tub and turned off the water. She added lavender salts, took out a freshly laundered gown, and wandered out into the hallway. The door to the room where Lily slept was ajar. Anna walked in.
There was someone sitting in the chair beside Lily’s bed, a hand on the little girl’s back.
“Hi,” Marvin whispered.
“What are you doing?” she asked.
“Same thing you’re doing. Revisiting the best part of myself.”
Anna sat carefully at the foot of the bed, listened to the deep, rhythmic breathing of a sleeping child.
“Come up here,” he said, patting the space at the edge of the bed. He took Anna’s hand and gently placed it on Lily’s back. “Is there anything finer than this? I should have had two dozen. I should have talked Poppy into more.” Anna’s hand bumped against his, and he laced his fingers through hers. They sat like this until Lily shifted and Anna’s bathwater had longed since cooled.
She and Marvin walked out of the room. “Speaking of Poppy,” Marvin said in the hallway. “I found her. That is, I found out where she’s staying. I left her a message.”
“I thought you already did that,” Anna said. “When she was in Italy.”
“I did, but she never called me back. I couldn’t leave the news on an
answering machine, I just couldn’t. But she’ll return my call this time. This time, I said I was willing to divorce her.” He sighed, ran his fingers through his hair. “It’s pretty fucked up when you have to bribe your wife this way.”
“I’d like to talk to her,” Anna said.
Marvin looked as surprised as she felt for saying it. “You would?”
“I don’t know. Maybe.”
“Also, I wanted to tell you that I’m moving to New York. My work is showing and selling well, and I want to be in the thick of it.”
Anna nodded. “I’m happy for you.”
“And to invite you to stay with me. For as long as you want, until you figure out what you want to do. I have a housesitting gig in a loft on the Upper West Side. Jack told me. About you selling the house. Is it true?”
Anna nodded. “It’s sweet of you to invite me to stay with you.”
“I’ll make sure you have the number before I go.”
They walked into Anna’s room. “What do you want to watch?” She held up the DVDs.
“Anything. Whatever you want,” he said.
Anna chose her new favorite,
Full Metal Jacket
.
Sunday morning, Anna was in the kitchen making breakfast when she heard the sound of luggage being carried down the stairs. A lot of it. She turned off the pan of eggs and went to see. Jack’s things mingled with Stuart’s, Greta’s red suitcase, and a gym bag full of Jack’s medication.
Jack walked down the stairs, looked tired and ill—the typical greenish cast his skin took on when he switched medications, though he’d been on the same medicine for six months. “Good morning,” he said.
“What’s all this?”
“Well, Stuart and I were up all night fighting.” He walked into the sunroom.
Anna followed. “And he won,” she said.
Jack nodded, his back to her as he uncased CDs. Joan Baez’s “Suzanne” filled the room. He sat beside Anna on the wicker sofa, started to sing. Anna sang with him, the entire song, the words she didn’t know she knew, waiting right there in her head.
When the song was over Jack said, “I’ll come back on the weekends. I’ll be back every Friday night.”
“Only if you want to. I don’t want you to worry about me. It’s time for you and Stuart to make a life together.”
Jack nodded. “Are you really selling this place?”
“Yeah.”
“Are you coming back to Boston?”
“No. Maybe. I don’t know.”
Jack picked up the remote control, hit the repeat button. “Once more,” he said, as the song began anew. “You know, you saved my life.”
“I did no such thing. You saved your own life.”
“What would you say if I asked you to move in with us? With me and Stuart?”
Anna looked at him. “I’d say your lover would surely leave you for good this time and that you and I would be a pack of two. C’mon, Jack. Stuart’s giving you a second chance. He won’t give you a third.
Carpe diem
, you know, and all that.”
“You will always be a part of my life.”
“Of course. And I’m probably not going to go anywhere until I sell this place, which could take a while, or forever, who knows.”
It was late afternoon by the time they all left. Anna walked them out to their cars. She and Greta hadn’t really spoken since Saturday.
“I’m sorry,” Greta said.
“For what?” Anna asked.
Greta’s eyes were teary. “I’m just sorry. I’ll call you.”
Anna said okay, and turned away before Greta could hug her. She got in Jack and Stuart’s Jeep and rode with them to the end of the road. She kissed them both goodbye. Jack pulled her close and kissed her again, full on the mouth. “I love you, Anna,” he said.
“Take very good care of each other,” she said.
“I’ll see you soon,” Jack said, “probably at the end of the week.”
“Whatever you two decide is good with me. I’ll be here.” She got out. “And I love you, too,” she said.
Anna watched them until their car was out of sight, then walked back to the house. For the first time in over two years, she was alone. Marvin had taken an early flight out to New York without even saying goodbye to her, just a note saying he would call later in the week, along with his phone number.