Nothing Left To Want (37 page)

She sighed. “I suppose this is what passes for congratulations from you, and I should no doubt be grateful that you did not allude to his skin color. Tell me, Carolyn, can I put you down as a yes for the wedding or would you rather just give an interview about it?”

“
Good to know you’re keeping up with me, Mumsy, and I’m surprised you disapprove. I thought you hated Aunt Georgia.”

“
Oh, I do, I do, and I was actually rather pleased to see you displaying some backbone, of course. I hear your father wasn’t … but never mind, you’re a grown woman now, Carey, and you can make your own decisions. Which leads me back to my wedding. Mashid and I are getting married in five days in Aspen. He loves Colorado in the summer and I’m buying a rather splendid house there as a wedding gift for him. Of course we’ll be holding the service and the reception at Little Nell’s. It’s the only decent place in town.”

“
Colorado’s a good choice, Mom You can lay low and ride out whatever Page Six is going to say about this.”

“
Don’t worry about my press coverage, Carolyn, and at any rate I doubt they will say much at all. Mentioning my marriage in any sort of derogatory terms might smack of intolerance and nobody’s open about that sort of thing. No, I imagine we’ll be welcomed back with open arms.”

I imagined quite the opposite but decided to be conciliatory because I wanted someone, well I wanted her, to say something positive about my own news. “Okay, Mom, well you know what, congratulations. I don’t think I’ll be able to come to the wedding because I might be pretty busy myself next week but I’ll send you two crazy kids something fabulous.”

Her voice was ice. “Really, Carolyn? I’m sorry to hear that. I keep reaching out to you and you keep slapping me away. Well fine, I … ”

“
I’m not slapping you away, I’m adopting a little girl and I’m not sure but I think she’s coming right away. It’s what I was calling to tell you. See, you’re going to be a bride and a grandmother all at once.”

Shocked silence greeted my statement. For a second I thought she had hung up on me, but then I heard a shallow gasp.

I said, “Please, please Mom, if I ever needed you to say the right thing to me, it’s now. If we’re ever going to be anything at all to each other, please try and say something good to me right now.”

“
You’re not giving me a lot of time, Carey.”

“
No, but I’m giving you a lot to work with.”

She laughed and so did I. Ruefully she said. “All right, then, I think I’m delighted. This may be what you need and it may be what I need, another chance. I’ll tell you what, Mashid and I will plan a visit out there very soon. We’ll see how it goes from there. Mashid is very family-oriented and I think this will work out nicely.”

I didn’t tell her not to bother using me to make herself look more human to her new toy-boy husband, a guy twenty years younger than her. When begging for approval you can’t be choosy. I knew Daddy wouldn’t bother to come out; we weren’t speaking, so I sent him an email announcement.

He answered tersely two days later. “I don’t agree with this decision, Carey, not now. You seem to me to be too young for this. However, I am well aware that my opinions don’t much matter to you these days, so I will close by congratulating you and advising you to apprise Herbert of this as soon as possible.”

If I had been a little unsure, and I was, Daddy’s email did it. It was so clear to me that if I was ever going to have anyone to love me, I needed to go through with the adoption.

On Friday, after a fifteen minute perfunctory visit from Claudia and two dumpy state social workers, I began the fun part - shopping. This much I knew I could do perfectly for the baby girl who I had decided to name Diana after the poor lost princess.

I hired Stanley at Ian Patrick again to give Diana the most outrageous nursery possible and then I contacted Children’s Salon in Bond Street. They are the children’s clothier who once dressed my sisters and me and, once online, I went crazy. Shopping for baby girls is the best shopping of all and I wanted her to be the best dressed, most confident baby in the world. I believe clothes are power at any age and I began Diana’s wardrobe with a hundred hand-stitched dresses from Aletta of Tuscany, and why not? Money is no object when you don’t keep track of it.

Stanley, working under my silly edict that money wasn’t important, only time was, hired a famous painter who turned my former guest room and shoe storage facility into a pale pink rose garden. Stanley had the softest ivory carpet installed and swagged the ceiling in the palest green silk. Her crib was a work of art. Made of wrought iron, it looked exactly like Cinderella’s carriage, and if the room cost nearly a quarter of a million dollars, I didn’t mind, and since I was dodging Herbert’s calls, I don’t know if he minded either.

Milan had just started filming Season two of
The Natural Life
, so I asked Christy to be Diana’s godmother because I didn’t want to wait until she got back to have my christening party.

If a perfect room and a one-of-a-kind wardrobe was all you needed to bring home a baby, I was ready. My housekeeper, Mieko, took care of stocking the house with more mundane things and I didn’t ask her if she would help with the baby, I just assumed that she would, but only if I couldn’t be with her myself.

Before she arrived I fantasized about being the kind of mother I’d never had. I didn’t have any idea what babies were like but I did have a vague misty picture of Diana and me rocking together in her softly lit room, to be followed by she and I appearing in mother-daughter fashion shows. I know it sounds stupid but I bet even people who have lived differently than me are clueless about motherhood and, ready or not, there they are. Claudia, for a mere forty-five thousand dollars plus expenses, had personally flown over to fetch Diana and, on the last day of August, she brought her home to me and put her in my arms.

I’ve done so many stupid things, and I’ve loved the wrong people, and I’ve never been good enough for that little girl, but I worshipped her from the moment I saw her and I knew then, and I still know now, that she is the one perfect true thing that has ever happened to me.

Chapter 39

It’s not you, it’s me; people say that a lot. They’ve said it to me a lot.

It’s one of those smarmy things to say when the person saying it means exactly the opposite. What they are really saying is, it’s you who’s a mess, I’m fine, and I want to get away from you, but at least I’m trying to do it politely.

With Diana and me it was actually the truth, it wasn’t her, she’s perfect, there is nothing wrong with my little girl, but there are a great many things wrong with me, and the biggest one is that she came into my life too late, or maybe it was too early. Whatever, the timing was wrong. I wasn’t ready after all and I didn’t know what to do with her. I do love her, but its end times for me, so I need to be honest with myself. I may have loved the idea of her more.

When Claudia left her with me I spent an hour just admiring her but babies, they need and they want a lot more than being stared at, and when she woke up and scrunched up her face, I started yelling for Mieko louder than Diana was yelling for whatever it was she wanted. I had no idea that babies wanted so many things: food, changing, cuddling, and apparently all at the same time. I found out at six that night when Mieko tracked me down in the driveway.

I was just getting in my car. I had a full night planned. I was going to meet Christy for an early dinner on Melrose, then we were going to see her new house, and after that attend some cell phone company's party, after which we would end up over at Les Deux and meet up with Milan and whoever had followed her there.

So when I saw little Mieko, who being Asian, always moved slowly and gracefully, running towards me down the drive, my new baby jerking up and down in her arms, her face bright red and her mouth emitting this horrible car alarm like screech, I was taken aback, way back. I really, really liked Mieko and the last thing I wanted to have to do was fire her, especially since that would mean I’d lose Harin, my gardener, simultaneously, but even I knew you weren’t supposed to run with a baby.

I stepped away from the car and faced her, preparing to put enough fear of her position’s future into her to make sure this never happened again, but before I could say anything, she practically threw Diana at me. Awkwardly I caught my by-then purple-faced screaming new daughter and stared at Mieko shocked. “Mieko, what the hell?” Seeing how strained she looked, I softened my voice. “Did you bring her out to say goodbye, because that’s really sweet, but I don’t want you to run with her, okay?” I looked down at Diana, who had miraculously stopped crying in my arms, I smiled at her and gave her a quick kiss on her little head and held her out to Mieko. “See, she really doesn’t like running. She’s going to be like her mama, a lazy girl. Okay, here you go, you two ladies have a good night.”

Mieko crossed her arms across her chest and stared at me through narrowed eyes. “Miss Carey, I no nanny, not be nanny, not want to be nanny, am not going to be nanny. You have baby, you take care of baby. Mieko, she take care of house, it is good.”

Diana was squirming in my hands, trying to twist her little body towards me. Reluctantly I laid her against my shoulder. Diana, wanting me to hold her, gave me a strange feeling. I wish I could say it was pleasure and maybe I felt a little bit of that too, but mostly I felt trapped. I reasoned with myself that I needed time to adapt. Right then, though, I needed Mieko to adapt.

Trying for patience, I said. “Yes, Mieko, you do take care of the house and you do a great job, but now we have a baby in the house, so I want you to take care of her too, okay?” Again I held out Diana who immediately started screaming when I pulled her away from my shoulder.

Mieko’s expression was unyielding. “No, Miss Carey, Mieko had baby, she raised boy … he is good boy, is teacher now. Mieko is proud but Mieko is done with babies. I helped you today … ” She seemed to be struggling for words. I didn’t help her. Her face started turning red as she continued. “Harin say, he say, Mieko, you help Miss Carey with baby, nanny she will come soon, but no nanny come. Now you leaving and Mieko is off work, so Miss Carey take baby with her if she goes.”

“
Mieko,” I said warningly.

She shook her head and took a step back. “No, Miss Carey, you no like Mieko no more, I am sad, but Harin and Mieko we will find new jobs. We is good workers but Mieko not take care of baby. Mieko is tired now and is going home.”

Without giving me a chance to respond, she turned and I watched bemused as she headed, shoulders bowed, to the apartment she shared with Harin over the garage.

I noticed then that my new baby smelled terrible.

Scared in a way I hadn’t been before, I reluctantly headed back into the house. I figured out how to change her, and it was worse and more disgusting than anything I had ever done previously, worse even than my diabetes needles were. Frantic for support, I called Christy and told her about my domestic crisis, hoping that she would agree to change our plans and come over and offer not only moral support but baby care support.

She was sweet and sympathetic and advised me to call her mother right away for a nanny referral agency, but said, “I can’t, I just can’t change my plans for tonight. You two girls have a good night, though, Cares, and don’t forget to call Mom. Okay, love you, bye.”

Diana and I were alone. I think she sensed our situation wasn’t good either because she screamed all night, or maybe it was my attempt at feeding her. What did I know? I knew babies drank milk; too bad the only milk I had in the house was the skim I had Mieko buy for my coffee. Mieko had left a can of formula on the counter but I was too stressed by Diana’s non-stop screaming to read the instructions, and when she didn’t like the lumpy cold mess I made for her anymore than she had liked the ice cold skim milk, I threw her bottle across the dining room and laid her down on the floor while I stayed bent over in my chair, moaning in fear.

I called Mrs. Marin at two am, waking up her household, and when she came to the phone, I hysterically blurted out my situation and she began laughing. “Carey, Carey, Carey, don’t worry about a thing … Mama Marin is on her way to the rescue.”

She came screeching up to my gates an hour later. I met her in the driveway and thrust my nearly apoplectic baby at her. By ten that morning, Mrs. Marin had used her considerable clout with L.A.’s premier domestic agency, Ellen Violet, to hire two full-time nannies for Diana. She had also rousted Mieko and sent her off with a mile long list of baby necessities, and once Diana was finally settled into her nursery with her brand new daytime nanny, Lisa, then Mrs. Marin settled me into mine, pulling up my covers and kissing my forehead.

As I fell asleep, I wondered what it would be like to have a real mother like her. Never seeing the irony in my thinking, never understanding that I had already begun, with my handing off of my own child, to mirror the patterns of the childhood I had hated.