... and Baby Makes Two (28 page)

Each of the list titles was a mountaintop. This was massive. What the hell had she been doing all these months? Nothing! She could have been buying baby clothes. She could have been stenciling the baby's room. She could have been gathering the many packing lists that circulated on the listserv.

Barbara assured her that none of her adoptive parents ever did any of those things during the wait. But Jane still wanted to be the A student. Barbara laughed at her.

“Janie, this is the duck-to-water part for you. This is about lists and organization. I just want you to get something: This is the easy part.”

Easy? Was she being sarcastic? All the stress, all the unknowns, all the work, and this was easy? Jane wanted to answer her, but she
had no words. She knew her face looked like an ad for a horror movie, but she couldn't help that.

“Never mind, never mind.” Barbara's voice was soothing. “Show me your lists. Let's work through them.” Jane smiled and pulled a manila folder from her bag.

“Here.”

“Ah. Good.” Barbara studied the list of lists, and some subsequent lists. “And, Jane? I'm glad things are working out with Peter so far.” So far? Jane feared that she was developing facial tics. So far? Barbara must have seen that tic.

“What I mean is I'm glad that you're getting all this happiness. You deserve it.”

Jane hated herself for ever being mean in her head to Barbara. She hugged her teacher and said, “Tell me I'll be ready”

“You'll be ready”

…

Trapped at work, Jane scoured the listservs for packing lists. Some of these were a little scary. These included suggestions on how much clothing to bring and what the Chinese think of Americans who wear shorts (they don't approve). There was an intimidating list of medications, both over-the-counter and prescription, that everyone should bring to China. Peter found a list that advised everyone to pack adult diapers, in case of Mao's Revenge.

And then she knew that her boss was standing behind her. She did a quick alt-tab to something work related, as she had always seen her own staff do when she crept up from behind. She spun around.

“Oh, hi, Kendra. What's up?”

“I need to talk to you.” Doom. “Let's go in my office.” No! No!
Mercy!

“Okay”

Jane was paper white when she sat in Kendra's office. She
couldn't fake calm. Kendra cried out, “Oh! Don't be scared. I just wanted to offer you my son's old baby furniture! I've got a crib, a changing table, and some other stuff you might want. It's all in my basement. Do you want them? Oh, you poor thing!”

Jane happily accepted and wondered how much more her heart could take.

…

Jane and Peter took a Saturday drive to Buy-Buy Baby. Ray had assigned them decorative items to purchase for the baby's room, which he swore he would convert to a real nursery. They were parents-to-be with big shopping lists. Jane was shopping like a soldier these days, but then she saw Peter holding the cute little onesies and went weak in the knees. Peter kissed her and said another “Thank you for all this. Thank you.”

As Jane and Peter debated over plain crib sheets vs. ultimate crib sheets, a saleswoman strolled by. “Do you know if you're having a boy or a girl?”

Peter didn't even pause. “A girl.”

“Oh, how nice. Take a look at these John Lennon sheets. They're very popular.” They looked, they cooed and threw more and more onto the pile. A whole new life was going to need a lot of stuff.

“Have you and your wife picked out a stroller yet?”

Peter replied, “Not yet.”

The bubbly saleswoman had a universe of strollers, and Peter studied them carefully. He very nearly kicked the tires on them. He looked like he knew what he was doing.

“I read about this one. This is really top of the line. Jane? Look at this.”

The massive triangular stroller was designed for people who want to jog while strolling their babies. Jane couldn't imagine something she would want to do less than jog while strolling a baby. She lifted the stroller, or tried to.

“No. Too heavy” And she moved to another part of the stroller
galaxy. She was picking up super-light strollers when she realized that Peter was following her with the super-heavy stroller. Why?

“Peter, why do you still have that one? It's way too heavy to get up and down all those stairs.”

“Here's a deluxe travel stroller,” said the bubbly saleswoman. “Great for walk-ups.”

And indeed, that stroller looked like a light delight. But Peter said, “Can you put this one aside for us?” And he slid the heavy jog stroller over to her. Bubbles looked just as puzzled as Jane did.

“Sir. This one might be too heavy for your wife to carry upstairs. Remember, you have to hold the baby while you do that.”

“I know. But this one'll be great for when we move out of the city.”

Oh, my God.

“I see!” said Bubbles. “Have you and your wife picked out baby furniture? If you're leaving the city you can look at the larger pieces over here.”

Oh. My. God.

“Great,” said Peter. And then he had the nerve to add, “But we're not married.”

Oh. My. God.

Jane actually growled as she pushed the jog stroller out of her way and marched to the exit. She could hear Peter bustling along behind her. He was weighed down with the bags of baby stuff they had already purchased.

“Jane! What are you doing?”

She wondered if her entire family tree possessed enough sarcasm to answer Peter.

“I'm going to join the Stepford Wives club.” Jane didn't stop moving until she got to the car. “Let me help you catch up. Previously, on our life together: I'm not moving to the suburbs. I'm just not.”

He looked genuinely surprised. Was he an idiot? “I thought we had this fight already. And I thought I won,” he said.

Now it was Jane's turn to be surprised. “I thought
I
won.”

They hustled themselves and their stuff into Peter's car. They didn't speak. They crawled through traffic for a few blocks. Still not speaking.

Not until Jane said, “And when are you getting divorced?” Okay, no one likes to sound like
The Bold and the Beautiful,
but she kept talking anyway. “And why did you have to tell that woman that we're not married?”

“Well. We're not.”

Oh, damn, she didn't want to lose the logic side of the argument. She didn't know where to turn. She fell back on preadolescent repetition.

“Why did you have to tell her that we're not married?”

“What's wrong with telling the truth?”

“Okay then.” Jane could be logical too. “Why aren't we married? With a baby coming in about four weeks, don't you think you should think about it?”

They got each other. They had from the beginning. He set his jaw as if he were a bad TMJ patient and gripped the wheel. She had won the argument in some stupid, unfair way. He got it.

“You don't sound like you, Jane. You sound like one of your black-and-white movies.”

“You sound like a guy who's not answering my question.”

She knew perfectly well that he didn't have an answer. That didn't stop her from wanting one. They drove along in more silence.

Until Jane said, “Sometimes you're such a jerk. You should know that about yourself.”

“Sometimes you're really childish.” He mimicked her saying, “ Why aren't we married?' ” and then added “Come on, Jane.”

She used her best bratty voice to mimic him right back. “Come on, Jane.”

“Don't do that.”

“Don't do that.” She had grown up with brothers, remember. She had learned how to be annoying.

They arrived at her building and he said, “Fine. You win. You're
the baby, so enjoy all your baby stuff. I'm going home. Hey! Maybe I'll write a list.”

He wasn't going to help her lug the seven thousand pounds of baby crap up the four flights of stairs. Ouch. Winning arguments comes with a price. He sat in the car and stared straight ahead. He drove away.

She could barely lift the giant bags of baby crap. She dragged them as if she were a wayward Santa. She had to take three breathers up the stairs. After one flight, she had forgotten about Peter and their stupid argument. By the time she pulled it all into her apartment, she was completely done in.

The biggest bag spilled open. Clothes, sheets, bumper pads, bottles, nipples, diapers, diaper creams, wipes, more clothes, formula, a lamp, two diaper bags, baby shampoo, baby bath, baby-sized towel, pajamas,
What to Expect the First Year
and
What to Expect the Toddler Years,
some teething rings, baby sunscreen, socks, a bath seat, adorable soft onesies, and a huge array of baby-proofing items. And there was some other stuff too.

The apartment already looked so crowded.

“We're going to need a bigger boat,” she said in full voice. She wanted to feel bad for Peter. She wanted to find a way to put all these things away. She stretched out on the floor and planned to stay there for a long time. She wanted to slap Peter and then apologize. She wanted a c-c-c-commitment.

Someone or something bumped against her door, trying to open it.

“Who's there?” Jane shouted. “Peter?” But she heard only a grunt in response, and, hey, Peter drove away. It couldn't be him. Her New York survival instincts kicked in. She needed a good blunt object, so she grabbed a pewter candlestick. Oh, but Sam gave her that. So she traded it for
What to Expect the Toddler Years,
which was a huge tome and could easily do some damage.

“You have the wrong apartment!” she shouted. The grunting intruder might believe her if she sounded forceful enough.

The lock clicked. The door opened. It was Ray, unable to speak through the mouthful of bagel he was chewing. She sat down again, ten years older than when the day began.

“Don't let China know that I'm this unstable, okay?” She sighed.

“Mmm-hmmm.” And then he was out of sight. She found him in the storage room/Beth's room-to-be. The room was emptied and cleaned, with a fresh coat of paint on the walls. So much hidden space was suddenly revealed. He must have spent the whole day on this.

Ray finally spoke. “See? I told you I could turn it into a real room.”

“Beth's room” was all she managed to say around the catch in her throat.

“I took the liberty of throwing away the very broken chair and the box of scary, mildewed fabric. The other stuff is in the basement. This room is bigger than I thought it was.”

Jane nodded. “It's like a dream.”

“What's in the bags?”

“Baby crap.”

“It's a lot.”

“Yeah.”

…

Peter stayed away all afternoon. Jane had no idea he was such a brooder. There was a knock at the door, and Jane rushed to open it, thinking that Peter was making a contrite entrance. But it wasn't Peter. It was someone looking for the open house in the apartment downstairs. Still not sold. Still open housing. But there was Peter, climbing the stairs and carrying a large gift.

“Here. This was the travel stroller that you liked. The woman said it was wonderful, and lightweight and wonderful. I just carried it up four flights of stairs and it felt like nothing. So. Here.”

She wanted to refuse it and warn him that he couldn't buy his way out of bad behavior. She wanted to tell him that she was sorry
for being so childish. But the stroller was actually wonderful. It was a stroller for a city baby in a walk-up.

“I'm sorry,” he said. “You don't like being stuck in limbo, huh?”

“So crowded in there, with all those unbaptized babies. And I'm a baby too. But a baptized one, so it's really unfair. Anyway. I'm really sorry about today. I guess you're kind of in limbo too. In a way”

They hugged for a long time. Peter finally spoke.

“I thought I won the suburbs argument. I made a better case than you. Didn't I?” he asked. “And that should count for something. See, with Bianca, I never won an argument. Never got my way. But we're partners, aren't we, Janie? Equals? And I'm getting tired of apartment life. I want to live in a house.”

Jane allowed herself no sarcasm and no walking away. Hang in there and work this out with Peter. Now.

“Peter, please. My life is unrecognizable from where it was a year ago. I can't leave my island. Not right now. Here's a compromise. Can we talk about it again, after we get settled with the baby? Can I keep this down to one big change at a time? That's all I can handle.”

This was mostly true. But there was one more change Jane wanted in her life. She wanted Peter to put both feet down and stay. Was he reading her mind when he said, “Bianca isn't ready for a divorce just yet. She's changing publishers, and her aunt who raised her died a few months ago, and she's really having a hard time.”

Jane stared at his shoes for a minute and said, “I'm sorry about her aunt.”

“Yeah. Look. Just give her some time.”

“I don't have time. I'm sorry, but I don't. I'm going to China soon.”

Jane's face was twisted with worry. Had she learned nothing from all those old movies? This man was never going to divorce his wife, was he? She lowered her face to hide the bad movie scenario, and Peter ducked down to see her face.

“Hey. We're going to be together. You believe that, don't you?”

“Yes.” She was an awful liar, so she said, “No.” She wanted to make a
Reasons to Believe Peter
list, but she was busy trying not to cry. When she finally looked up, she said, “Why are you still living in your wife's apartment?”

Peter's mouth fell open for a second, then he began to nod slowly.

“Good point.”

No, he couldn't marry her, at least not yet. But why couldn't he move in with her? Why was he still just her neighbor when he should be so much more? He should be her family. Peter wandered around her apartment like a tourist, sizing up the place.

“Look, Peter, I don't have time for stupid games, and I really don't have time for you to figure things out. Be with me or be with her. Make a choice. And, okay, no pressure, but you have to decide fast.” Jane made a note in her head: She needed to brag to Sheila about how strong she sounded right now, even though she felt ready to dissolve.