The Apartment (25 page)

She took Charlie with her, and the house seemed dead. A week later Sasha came home from work and found Morgan crying in the kitchen. And it was hard to guess why Morgan was crying—she had so many reasons to. Her lost job. The fact that she might never find another one as good—a future employer might not trust her, or even hire her. She had been irreversibly tainted by George, maybe forever. And they all missed Abby.

Sasha put her arms around her and gave her a hug. “I miss her too.” It was like losing her little sister. Even during her travails with Ivan, she had been a warm, loving presence who brightened their existence. And with Morgan depressed about losing her job, the atmosphere in the apartment had been very subdued. And as Sasha hugged her, she shook her head and sobbed.

“It's not Abby,” she managed to choke out the words.

“You'll find another job.” She knew Morgan liked working at Max's with him for the time being, but she was worried about the future of her career. Morgan shook her head again, and Sasha looked at her, mystified over why she was sobbing inconsolably.

“I'm pregnant!” Morgan blurted, and collapsed into a kitchen chair with overwhelming grief.

“Oh my God,” Sasha said, and sat down next to her. That had never happened to any of them. They were cautious and responsible, and kept an unlimited supply of condoms in both bathrooms for everyone's use. They were grown-ups and took good care. “How did that happen?”

“I don't know. I took an antibiotic for an ear infection—maybe it canceled out my pill, or I missed one. I'm two months pregnant.” She looked at Sasha miserably. “I just figured it out, and I took a test. I'm screwed. I missed a period when they closed the office. I thought it was just stress.”

“Have you told Max?” Morgan shook her head. She was sure it had happened when George got arrested. They'd had sex more than usual, for comfort. And now her worst nightmare had happened,
and
she was out of a job.

“If I told him, he'd want the baby, and he knows I don't want kids. He'll break up with me if I have an abortion. He's Irish Catholic, and he loves kids. I want an abortion, Sash. I can't even tell him.” And then she looked at her friend hopefully. “Would you do it?” Morgan trusted her completely.

“No, but I can refer you to someone who will, if that's what you want. You should probably tell him, though. He'll get even madder if he finds out later and knows you lied to him.”

“I know. I'm screwed either way. And I'm not going to have it. I can't. Children terrify me, they always have. I have no maternal instincts at all.”

“You might surprise yourself,” Sasha said gently. “You love him, that helps.”

All Morgan could do was cry as she sat at the kitchen table with Sasha's arms around her. Morgan said it was the worst thing that had ever happened to her, and Sasha felt sorry for her. Morgan was devastated, and Max figured out for himself that Morgan was pregnant when she threw up three mornings in a row. He asked her, and her face told him the whole story. She didn't want to lie to him and deny it. She burst into tears as soon as he asked.

“Why didn't you tell me?” he asked with a broad smile as he put his arms around her. He was thrilled.

“I don't want it,” she said in a deep sorrowful voice. “I always told you that. I don't want kids.”

“Planned ones, okay, I get that. But this happened. You can't just brush it away. It's our baby.” He had tears in his eyes when he said it, and he was shocked at her expression. She was like a cornered animal, and she would do anything to survive.

“It's not a baby. It's a mistake, an accident. It's a nothing right now,” she said, panicked.

“That's bullshit and you know it. How pregnant are you, anyway?” He looked as rattled as she did, but for the opposite reason. He wanted it, she didn't. And he was willing to fight for its survival, she wanted to kill it. It was about to become a huge battle.

“Two months,” she answered in a flat tone. “I'm going to have an abortion,” she said with an iron will in her eyes.

“When?”

“Soon.”

“Over my dead body. Is Sasha doing it?” His eyes were blazing with fury.

“She refused,” Morgan said honestly.

“At least there's one decent human being around here. I want you to know that if you have an abortion, I will never forgive you, and it's over with us.”

“I know,” she said quietly. But it didn't change her mind. She hadn't wanted it to happen this way. She hadn't wanted him to know, because she knew it would end like this, probably forever. She knew it was true when he said that he would never forgive her. It was against everything he believed in, and he wanted their child, he always had. He slammed out of the apartment then, and didn't stay with her that night. She knew the battle they were having over her unwanted pregnancy was the beginning of the end, either way, whoever won.

The war over the fetus in Morgan's womb raged on for weeks. Max wouldn't sleep at the apartment, and told her not to come to the restaurant until she made a decision. And in his mind there was only one to make, to keep the baby. There was no other acceptable option, to him.

They stopped seeing each other entirely, and Morgan was still sure she wanted an abortion, but hadn't scheduled it yet because she knew that when she did, Max would never see her again. He said it and he meant it, and she believed him. She loved him, but not his baby. And for him they were one and the same—there were no shades of gray, or good reasons for an abortion. It was a yes-or-no decision, to keep it or not. She couldn't have it and send it back. He even asked her to have the baby and let him raise it, and she wouldn't. That sounded twisted to her. She wasn't going to give birth to a child and give it up. It made more sense to put an end to it before it happened and ruined their lives, but it already had.

She tried to explain again how she felt about it, and he wouldn't listen to her. All he wanted to hear was that she had changed her decision. She had made it, but not acted on it yet.

“You have to do something soon,” Sasha prodded her, not wanting to influence her. “Either keep it, or terminate. You're getting close to three months, and they won't give you an abortion after that.”

“I know. I feel like I'm losing him and the baby at the same time.” Sasha didn't disagree. Max had talked to her and he was vehement, not just morally or religiously but because he loved Morgan and had always wanted their child. And he figured this was his only chance—Morgan would never let it happen again. Sasha thought he was right about that. It was a huge trauma to her.

For three weeks, Morgan had sat around the apartment hoping Max would change his mind, but he refused to talk to her. And he had answered none of the e-mails or texts where she had tried to explain her position to him.

“He's being a total asshole,” she said to Sasha.

“He's certainly being rigid. Most guys don't want the baby. He does.”

“He'd rather lose me than the baby,” Morgan added. He had even called a lawyer and had looked into a court order to stop her because it was his child too, but it was her body, and the courts respected that, and wouldn't interfere. It was her right to choose. Max was beside himself over it, and he missed her. But he refused to back down. He had said clearly that if she aborted, they were through.

By now, Morgan was very emotional and cried all the time. She had a few days left to decide, and Sasha went to the doctor with her to support her while she made the final decision. Knowing she would lose Max if she aborted the baby was slowing her down. But she wanted him, not the child.

They did a routine sonogram while she was at the doctor, in Technicolor and 3D, and what they saw was a healthy baby. Its heart was strong, and everything was perfect. She started to cry even more after she saw it, and talked to the doctor about an abortion. She said she would call to set it up the next day, and the doctor didn't push her either way. She said she could fit her in the following afternoon for a termination if that was her decision.

All she did was cry on the way home. She was convinced a baby would destroy her life. She remembered her hideous life as a child, her drunken mother and irresponsible father who cheated on her. The miserable life they had led until they died young, and they had had no pleasure from their children, and had had nothing to give her or her brother. She wanted no part of that nightmare, which was more vivid to her than the baby in 3D.

She went to bed when they got back to the apartment, after she threw up again. She was sick all the time now too, but Sasha thought it was because she wasn't eating and was so upset, which made everything worse. She had been through a lot in the past three months, with the demise of her career, and now an unwanted pregnancy.

Sasha left for work after checking on her, Morgan just lay there crying, and she and Alex talked about it that night.

“Honestly, I don't think she should have the baby,” she told Alex. “She's completely traumatized. Anyone who doesn't want kids that badly shouldn't have them.”

“So why doesn't she have the abortion?”

“She doesn't want to lose Max, and she will if she does it. He offered to take sole custody if she'll have it and give it to him, and she won't.”

“This sounds crazy,” Alex said, sorry for both of them.

“It is crazy. For some people, having a baby is not an easy concept. For others, it's an obsession. There are a lot of issues around pregnancy. It's great when it's nice and simple and straightforward, but that's not always the case.” And this was one of the most complicated situations she'd seen. Morgan was so desperate, torn between the two options, that Sasha was afraid she'd become suicidal. She was terrified whichever way she turned. Sasha tried to convey that to Max when she stopped by the restaurant to have coffee with him earlier that week, and he didn't want to hear it. For him, it was simple. Have their baby and stay together, or abort it and break up.

“It's not that easy,” she told him.

“It is for me.” And with that, he ended the conversation.

The absolute deadline for an abortion was the following Monday, and that weekend Sasha and Alex were going to Atlanta, so her parents could meet him. She wasn't looking forward to it, and would have preferred to stay home and keep Morgan company, but they couldn't cancel. They weren't going to have another weekend off for two months, and the wedding was in three, so they flew to Atlanta on Friday night. Her father had invited them to stay with him, but they wanted some time to themselves to decompress between warring parents, so they were staying at a hotel.

They had dinner that night at a restaurant her mother liked. Her mother examined Alex like a piece of property she was buying, and asked him a thousand questions about his parents, and particularly his mother's law practice. She had checked her out on the Internet and was impressed, but didn't admit it.

“You know that I don't believe in marriage, don't you?” she asked him, and he nodded. He was more than a little daunted by her, and he thought she was the toughest human being he'd ever met, male or female.

“Yes, I know that, Mrs. Hartman,” he said politely.

“Muriel. Sixty percent of marriages today end in divorce, and the statistics are going up. Why bother? You lose property, you lose income, you pay support. It's a lousy investment. You'll lose less money playing blackjack in Las Vegas. There, at least you have a decent chance if you get a good hand. Even if you get a good hand in marriage, it all blows up in your face sooner or later. One of you cheats, or you both do. They get fat, old, or boring. You can't talk to them. You get to hate them. You stop having sex. It all looks sexy and romantic in the beginning, but it doesn't last. And when it does, you wish it wouldn't. Take my advice—live together, don't commingle your money, and don't waste it on a wedding, or throw your life out the window by getting married. Believe me, you'll thank me one day for the best advice anyone ever gave you. I hear bad stories every day.”

“Maybe because the good stories don't wind up in front of a divorce lawyer,” Alex said doggedly. “My parents have a good relationship, and they've been married for thirty-eight years.”

“That's an accident. Like twins. It doesn't happen often. And maybe you don't know the real story. A lot of parents hide it.”

“No, I think they genuinely love each other.” And it was what he expected to have with Sasha. Muriel Hartman just shrugged and made it clear she didn't believe it. She was a physically attractive woman in a hard way, but she had the meanest, angriest eyes he'd ever seen and harsh lines on her face.

Sasha tried to get them out of the restaurant as quickly as possible, and she suggested brunch on Sunday before their flight. Her mother said she was playing golf with two women friends who were judges, and couldn't make it.

“I assume you're seeing your father and his airhead wife tomorrow,” she said coldly.

“Yes, we are,” Sasha said through clenched teeth.

“Enjoy it,” she added sarcastically. “See you at the wedding,” she said to Alex, hugged her daughter awkwardly without an ounce of warmth, got in her Jaguar, and drove away. Alex looked like he was about to collapse on the sidewalk.

“She is one tough woman,” he said looking at Sasha. “How did you grow up with her?”

“She wasn't as bad then, before the divorce. They were unhappy for a long time, but they kept it quiet. Then he left her, and she turned into the witch in
The Wizard of Oz,
with the green face. I was out of the house by then, thank God. She badmouthed my father constantly once he left her. I guess her ego was bruised. But when he met Charlotte, the woman he's married to now, she went insane. She never forgave him for starting a new life and being happy with another woman. And it's worse because Charlotte is so much younger, and beautiful. And she's furious they had more kids. Now she hates everyone. I don't know how her clients stand her. You have to really hate the man you're divorcing to hire her. She kills them. My sister insists she used to be human once upon a time. I sure don't remember it. She gets along better with Valentina. My mother and I just don't make it anymore.” Sasha looked exhausted, and he put an arm around her. “It sure is different than your parents, huh? They're like a family TV show compared to mine, who are like some kind of horror movie. I try not to come home anymore. It's just too hard. And Valentina hates my father. She thinks he turned my mother into this by leaving her, and she says his wife is a ditz. She is, but she loves him, and it's what he wants, and she's really kind of sweet. We're not best friends, but I like her. My father has tried to bury the hatchet with my mother, but she won't let him.” Muriel Hartman was angry at the world.

“She makes it very difficult,” Alex said as they walked back to their hotel. Atlanta seemed like a nice city, but they hadn't had time to explore it, and all Sasha wanted, whenever she went back to Atlanta now, was to leave town again as soon as she could. She never even called her old friends. Her mother had ruined it for her.

They met her father at his country club for lunch the next day. Steve Hartman was a handsome man, and it was hard to imagine him with Muriel for a day, let alone the twenty-six years they'd been married before he left her. He wasn't an intellectual or an academic, but he was an intelligent businessman who had done extremely well. He wasn't as sharp or astute as Sasha's mother, but he was a kind, warm person, and Alex liked him.

And after lunch they followed him to Buckhead, the very expensive residential part of Atlanta where they lived. They had an enormous house that was more like an estate, with a tennis court and an Olympic-size pool, and beautiful old trees lining the driveway. It was very Southern, and there was a lovely young woman barefoot on the lawn, smiling and waving at them as they drove up, and two beautiful little girls. Steve looked ecstatic as he got out of his car, tossed them in the air, and kissed his wife. As soon as Alex and Sasha got out of their rented car, Sasha saw a problem on the horizon, a big one. Charlotte was pregnant again, which her father hadn't mentioned, and Muriel was going to split a gut at the wedding when she found out. It would be further proof of his happy marriage to someone else. Her mother had never wanted more children after the twins, and her father had always wanted more. Now he had them. And she could never forgive him for moving on without her, and being happy.

“Congratulations,” Sasha said after hugging Charlotte, and indicated her round belly in the pretty sundress. “That's exciting.”

“Yes, it is,” her father acknowledged, beaming at his wife. She was thirty years old, as she had told Alex before, two years younger than Sasha, which hadn't sat well with any of them when he married her at twenty-three, but it no longer mattered to Sasha. Valentina thought it was disgusting, and now she was doing the same thing herself with Bert, who was younger than she was, though not by as many years. Her father and Charlotte were nearly thirty years apart. But so what, if it worked for them?

“When is it due?” Sasha asked, praying it would be before the wedding.

“August,” Charlotte said in her Southern drawl that always annoyed Valentina. An August due date meant that she would be seven months pregnant at the wedding—the picture of maternal splendor on her father's arm. Sasha nearly groaned when she said it.

“Will you be up to coming to New York for the wedding?” Sasha asked with a false smile.

“My doctor says I can travel till eight months. Both of the girls were late.” Sasha nodded, with a sinking heart. It was one more thing to worry about at the wedding.
Elvis Chapel, here we come,
she thought.

They sat by the pool while a maid in uniform served lemonade and iced tea and lemon cookies, and her dad offered Alex a mint julep or Pimm's Cup, which he declined and stuck with lemonade. It was delicious, and the little girls swam while they chatted, and a nanny came out to dry them off. Their mother had had help for her and Valentina too, while she practiced law, but it was always more haphazard and less formal—local young women, college age babysitters, or foreign au pairs. Steve and Charlotte's nanny was English and formally trained, and extremely polite, as were the children who climbed all over Sasha and called her their big sister, while she teased them and chased them around the lawn. They were cute, and had a wonderful life. Their mother didn't work and hadn't since she gave up modeling to marry Steve, and never looked back. Her days consisted of shopping, manicures, a little charity work, and lunch with her friends.

Her father asked Alex about his residency, and they talked until dinnertime, and then had an early dinner in the gazebo on the lawn. They left by eight o'clock, and all Sasha wanted was to go back to New York. It wasn't anything like their trip to stay with his parents in Chicago, where they actually had fun. With Alex's family, they all had medicine in common, and his mother was the nicest woman she'd ever met, who actually seemed to care how Sasha felt.