Then he was throwing on his clothes. Lainie watched him numbly. Waiting for him to say, "C'mon, let's
go." But a minute later, he had his car keys in his hand and was shoving his wallet into his pants pocket.
"Mitch . . . " Why hadn't Jackie asked for
her
? Maybe she thought that Lainie would be able to say no to her, but at this stage Mitch would do whatever she asked. "Mitch!" Mitch stopped and looked at his wife, then put his hand to his face as if to say, What in God's name am I doing? It hadn't even occurred to him that she should be coming along. He looked embarrassed and more flustered than before.
"Oh, baby," Mitch said. "I'm sorry. I'm out of my mind with worry here. I know this wasn't in the plan we made, but I think I should drive out there. She sounds panicked. I probably won't get there until it's over, but what if it's a long labor? What if decisions have to be made about the baby?"
"What would you like
me
to do?" she asked.
"What do you
want
to do?" he asked. He was standing nervously at the bedroom door, looking as if he wished she'd say, "Call me when it's over," so he could leave, but she didn't. She jumped out of bed and opened her closet.
"Start the car," she said. "I'm coming with you." She heard him run down the stairs and out to the garage as she pulled out various choices in her closet, hating this situation. What to wear? Who cares, she thought, pulling on a pair of jeans and a big cotton sweater. Jackie was the one everyone would be looking at. Not her.
By the time she had her clothes on, she heard Mitch honking the horn. There wasn't time for makeup, or even to brush her teeth. She rushed out into the chilly night and got into the car. They drove wordlessly down Ventura Boulevard toward the freeway. A digital clock above a bank told her that the time was 1:10. There was very little traffic. Lainie felt stung, pushed around,
angry that Jackie hadn't kept their bargain. The friendship during the pregnancy had been a good thing, but she had specifically told Mitch she couldn't bear to watch him helping Jackie through the delivery.
They had put it into a contract they'd worked out with Chuck Meyer, the lawyer. They would come to the hospital after the baby was safely in the hospital nursery. But if Mitch continued to drive as fast as he was now and the labor was long, they would be there to watch the delivery. She looked out the window and reminded herself that Jackie had very little in her life, and that was why she had broken her word about calling them. Jackie knew that after the baby was born there would be no more relationship with Mitch and Lainie, so for one more night she needed them there. One more night, and maybe a day or two in the hospital. Then they would have their baby, and that's what mattered.
Sliding doors opened. Lainie followed far behind as Mitch raced through them and down the hall through the hospital. Around corners, and through doors and down ramps, past brightly lit nurses' stations and open doors to patients' rooms, through which Lainie caught glimpses of people connected to IVs.
By the time she got to the labor room, Mitch, and the limo driver, and a nurse, and Chuck Meyer, the lawyer, surrounded Jackie, who lay on the bed connected to an IV, holding court. Lainie stood quietly in the doorway. It wasn't until the limo driver had said good-bye and wished her well and Chuck Meyer stepped out to call his wife that Jackie looked past Mitch, who was brushing a curl out of her face, and noticed Lainie standing quietly in the corner.
"Hey! Lainie!" she said. "Isn't this great? We're having a baby."
"Great," Lainie said. Good God, it was true, she
thought. It was like that commercial she remembered from years ago, for oven cleaner that you sprayed on and then left to do the work. A woman in the commercial was playing tennis, and when she hit a winning point over the net, she looked at the camera and said, "I'm cleaning my oven!'' Lainie was standing in a labor room in her jeans, thinking, I'm having a baby.
Within minutes Jackie was in hard labor. Mitch and a nurse stood on either side of the bed while Lainie remained quietly in the corner. She could tell by the way the back of his La Coste shirt stuck to him that Mitch was sweating. Soon, with an entrance worthy of a star, the doctor swept into the room, made some comment about having to get out of his girlfriend's nice warm bed, and examined Jackie's pelvis. The anesthesiologist was a woman, and a moment later she came in, turned Jackie on her side, and gave her an epidural. After that, everything went fast. Somebody handed out sterile masks and gowns and boots and caps; the gurney was rushed into the delivery room. And again, Lainie, who was now dressed from head to toe in blue cotton like the others, stood alone in the corner of the tiled room.
She watched the group of people gathered around the table where Jackie lay, chattering nervously about something, and all she could see was their eyes. It took her a few minutes to sort them out now, and when she did, she realized it was Mitch who stood by the head of the table, holding Jackie's hand.
I'm not ready for this, Lainie thought. Her whole body was pulsing with panic. She didn't want to look, was afraid to see the blood, and now all she could think about was her own surgery. That day when they wheeled her into the operating room. She remembered that as she was falling into the drugged sleep, she already knew what the outcome would be. That her uterus would be
removed, that her ovaries would be removed, and that she would never, never . . .
The sudden cry of the baby as it burst forth from Jackie and into the doctor's hands brought Lainie back. "Here comes your girl . . . girl . . . a little girl," she heard voices say. And she watched as the tiny bloody baby was gently handed to Mitch, who Lainie could see was crying as he looked tenderly down at the tiny thing. She felt the nurse's arms strong around her back, moving her toward the center of the room so she could watch as Mitch handed the baby to Jackie. It was a tiny, pink little girl who looked like Jackie.
Jackie looked long at the baby, pursed her lips hard and closed her eyes as she handed the squealing baby to Lainie. The squeals were like sounds from a puppy. While Lainie stared at the baby's tiny face, the doctor put a small bulb in the nostrils and extracted some mucus or blood with a sucking noise. Lainie felt Mitch next to her and the doctor sliding the baby out of her hands to care for it.
"Thank you, oh thank you," Lainie said, half laughing, half crying, leaning over to hug the exhausted Jackie. "Dear God, how can I ever thank you? What could I ever do for you or give you that could possibly mean as much as that precious little life you gave to me and Mitch? Oh, thank you," she said again, and while she held Jackie in her embrace she could smell the very distinct odor of Shalimar, and feel Jackie's sweaty face against her own cool one.
"S'cuse me, please," someone said, brushing Lainie out of the way. With a tug of the gurney they wheeled Jackie off to the recovery room.
Mitch put his arms around her. She turned and held him tightly, and they both cried. Neither of them was able to speak through the emotions. Through her tears, Lainie saw nurses, who were probably used to seeing
people behave like this in the maternity ward, smile knowingly as they passed. Eventually, silently, Lainie and Mitch walked, arms around each other, out of the hospital to the parking lot.
The morning light found them in their own bed, locked in each other's arms. When Lainie opened her eyes, she saw that Mitch's were already open, looking at her happily.
"We have a baby," he said.
She grinned. "Yes, we do." They kissed and held each other.
"Let's go see her," Mitch said.
"You got it."
They showered and dressed quickly, all the while chatting about the details of the night before.
"I was a basket case, wasn't I?" Mitch asked.
"You were perfect."
"And it wasn't so bad for you. Was it?" he asked her earnestly. "I mean, that it happened that way. I mean, that we ended up at the hospital last night, instead of just showing up the next day at visiting hours?"
"Honey," Lainie said, "we have our baby. That's what counts. Did the doctor say when she can come home?"
"We'll find out today," Mitch told her.
Jackie's hospital room was filled with the scent of flowers from the huge bouquet that displayed a card from the lawyer's offices. She was in the bathroom when they arrived. Mitch thought they should stop into the hospital room and invite Jackie to walk down to the nursery with them, "just as a final nice gesture."
Lainie looked at the bedside table where some of Jackie's cosmetics sat. Lipstick, blusher, and the big round bottle of Shalimar. When the bathroom door opened and Jackie came out, Lainie was surprised at
how well she looked. Jackie let out a little yelp when she saw them.
"That baby is so beautiful. Have you seen her today?" she asked.
"No, we'll go together," Mitch told her. Linking arms, the three of them walked down the hall, Jackie scuffling in her slide-on slippers.
"There," she said, pointing to a crib in the back that bore a sign saying
O'MALLEY: GIRL.
The baby, that beautiful baby, was surely the most beautiful in the nursery.
"Jesus," Mitch said, "she's something special. None of those funny little marks they usually have. God in heaven. This is truly a miracle."
Lainie's heart felt full of hope. It had worked. Mitch's plan had worked. Despite her fears and pain and doubt, at last she would be taking home a baby. She was lost in her own thoughts about the baby's homecoming when she heard Jackie say, "Well, we did it, kiddo. We goddamned went and did it."
"That's the truth," Mitch said with a triumphant voice. "We sure as hell did." When Lainie turned and saw the look that passed between them, Jackie's so fulfilled and Mitch's so potent, it felt as if someone had kicked her in the chest. The three of them were celebrating the birth of their baby. The father; the mother; and the surrogate, the substitute. But, Lainie thought, there's no doubt that the substitute mother is me.
23
C
LINT EASTWOOD was now interested in the part for which Rick had lost Robert Redford, and Rick was flying to Carmel to meet with him several times a week. But he always tried to get back in time to be with David, even if it was for just a short while every evening. The beautiful fair-skinned little boy brought a lightness to Rick's world that shifted the way he looked at every other aspect of his life. He was sitting at the kitchen table eating a late supper one night and making some notes on a script at the same time when Annie, the baby nurse, came in.
"Mr. Reisman, he's asleep. It's ten o'clock and I just talked on the phone to my sister. She's feeling kind of poorly, and I was wondering if I could drive over to her place down by Western Avenue and take care of her? I'll come back here real early in the morning. Little David just finished a full bottle and he'll probably stay down until I get back in the morning. But if he doesn't,
I left you some sterilized nipples, in case he wakes up and is hungry; all you've got to do is unscrew the top of one of the Similac bottles, put the nipple on, and give it to him. You know how to do that."
"You bet I do, Annie. You go to your sister's. David and his old man will be just fine."
"Oh, and his passy. He's chewing on his little pacifier now. He loves that thing, only sometimes he loses it and starts in to cry. All you have to do usually is put it right back in his mouth and he goes right back to sleep. If he's really crying hard, sometimes it takes two or three tries before he takes it back in . . . so be patient now. Okay?"
"Okay," Rick said. He was proud of himself for finding this terrific woman to take care of his son. He heard her bustling around, getting ready to go and spend the night with her sister, and before she left she asked, "You want me to leave my sister's telephone number?"
"Not necessary," Rick told her and waved a little good-bye just before she closed the front door behind her.
At eleven-thirty he had just turned on "Nightline" when the front doorbell rang. Jesus, it might wake the baby. He hurried out to see who it could be. A vision. The young secretary from the production office next to his at Universal. Long dark hair down to her waist, huge eyes, off-the-shoulder black dress.
"I was at a dinner party in the neighborhood," she told him before he could say a word. "And I got your address from this copy of
Vanity Fair
I borrowed from your office one day. It has this address on it. So when I realized this was where you lived, I figured I'd come by and hope you were alone."
"I'm alone," he said.
"So . . . can I come in?"
He opened the door all the way. Just because he had
a kid now didn't mean he was going to give up getting laid.
"Boy, this place is gorgeous," she said, handing him his copy of
Vanity Fair
and circling the living room.
"So are you," Rick said.
She giggled. "You are so cute," she told him, and then stopped to look at him. "And I've seen every one of your movies."
"And which one was your favorite?" he asked, moving closer. Very close. In a moment she was against him, wiggling out of the top of her dress, and then her hands were on his belt, and then they moved to undo his trousers, and just as her dress hit the floor, David let out a shriek.
"What was that?" the astonished girl asked.
"My son."
"You have a son? A baby? Do you have a wife? Oh, geez, I thought you were single."
"I am," Rick said, and he flew into the baby's room, zipping the zipper the girl had—Christ, he didn't even know her name, but the girl had unzipped his pants. Now he grabbed the fallen pacifier from next to David's little squealing face and gently placed it into the baby's mouth, hoping the touch of it next to the little tiny tongue would quiet him. But David wouldn't take the pacifier in, and continued to scream.
"Take the passy, baby. Here's your nice passy, Davey, Daddy's giving you your wonderful pacifier and
"Nyaahhhhh." David spit it out again.