girls’ night
diane payne
Page 3 of 3
“Imagine how your life will change. You go to the store, you turn around one minute, and the baby is gone. I couldn’t do it. More power to you,” Bobbie says lifting her empty glass.
No one lifts her glass. Candace rolls her eyes and Jill gives Bobbie a dirty-look warning.
Embarrassed, Maria tries to lighten the mood. “I didn’t tell you the rest. After I realized I was pregnant, Paul and I flew to Juneau. We rented a car and spent two weeks camping. We never do anything impulsively, but we’ve talked about going to Alaska for so long, and then we decided let’s do it now. If we could find jobs there, we’d move there. It was incredibly beautiful.”
“That is so unlike you guys. I remember all the weeks you spent planning to take a trip to Maine. You had the backseat filled with maps. You filled your cooler with sandwiches labeled for different days of the week! Remember that?” Jill asks.
“We’re loosening up now. You’ll be glad to know we just rented a car, drove to town, found a hotel, then just started checking out the area.”
“No map?”
“Of course we had a map, Jill. But we hadn’t marked it.”
The road map had day one, day two, day three marked for their entire trip to Maine, just like the sandwiches. Nothing was left for chance.
“I’d worry I’d roll over and crush the baby in bed.”
“Bobbie! Stop!” Jill screams.
“Where is this coming from?” Candace feels as hopeless as she sounds.
“You and Paul will be great parents,” Jill says. “That kid will be so lucky you two are so organized. Some parents seem so chaotic. They’re continuously frantic, racing around like scatterbrains. You two will be cool, hip parents.”
“Have you been feeling morning sickness?” Candace asks.
“Not really. Once I got sick after eating a waffle. Now I doubt I’ll ever touch another.”
“And food poisoning. I’d always worry my kid was going to get salmonella.”
“Enough already, Bobbie,” Jill warns.
“Sorry. I think it’s great about you, Maria. I’m just talking about me. You and Paul will be wonderful parents. I’m actually jealous.”
No one says anything but they all wonder if that’s why she keeps making those comments.
“You’d be a great mother,” Maria says. She sounds fatigued just trying to be encouraging to Bobbie.
“Yeah, great. I’d probably be one of those parents who loses her cool and says horrible, unforgivable things.”
“Bobbie!” Candace leans over and says, “Enough.”
Maria senses something is wrong, something deeper than jealousy. “Are you angry with me?”
“Two weeks ago I had an abortion.” Bobbie is close to tears but she holds back. “I wish he’d bring my damn drink.”
Maria feels sickened. This special evening together is nothing like she had expected. She didn’t want to be the center of the attention but she certainly wanted more enthusiasm, especially from Bobbie.
“Freddy doesn’t even know.”
“It was his, right?” Maria asks.
“Of course it was his! I can’t believe you asked me that.” People across the restaurant turn to look at their table. Her anger is frightening. “You think it’s my fault that he left? That I was screwing around?”
“I’m sorry. You mentioned that man sailing.”
“I was joking. Nothing happened. We didn’t have sex. I didn’t even know I was pregnant then. It wasn’t until I came home and I took one of those pregnancy tests. In some ways, I wish I had gotten pregnant by a stranger in Hawaii. Things would’ve been so much easier. But this was Freddy’s child.”
“Why didn’t you tell him?”
“Because, Maria, he left me for another woman, a woman who is pregnant with his child. Turns out they’ve been having an affair for over a year. Bastard!”
One by one they all mumble something about how sorry they are, agreeing he was a bastard, and how they wish she would’ve said something. No one asks if she went to the clinic alone. No one wants to know. They can’t change things now.
Maria looks at her stomach suddenly wishing she could drink that glass of wine. All this talk of bad parenting. She’s certain one glass of wine would cause fetal alcohol syndrome. She wishes she was home with Paul, writing another long, neurotic to-do list, reading another book on pregnancy, anything but this. No one is going to want to talk about the joys of having a baby after hearing about Bobbie’s abortion.
The waiter senses there has been a change in their party atmosphere and figures this will affect his tip. He hates it when things go sour before they pay their bill. He brings their food and goes out of his way being complimentary.
“This table is filled with the most beautiful customers,” he says handing Jill her plate.
“Aren’t you cute?” she says. She’s waitressed. She can sympathize with the awkward situation he is forced upon.
“This plate is hot,” he says handing it to Candace. She doesn’t smile so he doesn’t flirt.
He dreads handing Bobbie her plate. He draws cartoons for his college paper, and if this were a cartoon, there would be steam coming from Bobbie’s head.
“Enjoy,” he says placing the plate before her.
“And last but not least,” he says setting Maria’s down. “Is there anything else I can get you?” he asks hoping they don’t respond.
“How about a new lover?” Bobbie says.
“I’ll see what I can dig up in the kitchen,” he jokes, then walks quickly away.
“Did he take furniture and cds and books?” Jill asks.
“He took his things. His new lover is an attorney. He didn’t want to take furniture or pictures or anything that would remind him of me. Just his clothes. His toothbrush. I have a lot more closet space now. I’m thirty-four. I should be more settled. I should be thinking about having a child. Even if I’d probably be a terrible mother. None of this is right.”
“Half the marriages end up in divorce. In a way, you’re lucky the two of you weren’t married. Imagine how much more difficult it would be if you had to go through a divorce,” Jill points out.
“Tell me about it. Remember, I’m a financial advisor. You have no idea how many people open accounts their partners never know about. Damn that bastard,” Bobbie groans.
Maria lifts her head from her plate and says, “This salmon is great. How’s your food?” She makes a few grunting noises to show her pleasure.
“You sure you should be eating salmon? Aren’t you worried about the mercury?”
“Bobbie!” Candace’s exasperation is a relief to the rest of them.
“Sorry. I’m sure it’s organic.” She takes Maria’s wine glass and finishes it off. “Better me than you,” she jokes.
“I know what’s going to happen. We’re all going to end up pregnant now.” As soon as the words leave Candace’s mouth, she regrets it. How could she possibly have forgotten about Bobby?
“We’re not quite ready,” Jill says. “Before I’m forty. Let’s see, that gives me eight more years. That should give us plenty of time to get ready.”
“How did you get pregnant on the pill?” Maria asks. “I thought that was about one hundred percent effective.”
“Probably is if you’re taking it every day.”
Once again no one says anything. No one is sure they want to hear the rest of this story either.
“Freddy must have got me confused with his lover. For about two weeks, while we were making love, he’d say how much he wanted to have a baby. How ready he was. I just quit taking the pill figuring he meant it, and I thought, well, if I get pregnant, I’m ready. It’s time.”
“He didn’t know you stopped taking the pill?” Maria sighs loudly unsure what more there is to say.
“I wonder if Laurie and he actually planned to have that kid. Laurie and Freddy. How cute. Imagine what he’d do if I socked him with child support. Two babies at once. What was he thinking doing that behind my back?”
Maria knows it’s a risky question, but she has to ask. “Did you ever tell him you were ready, that you wanted to try to get pregnant?”
“I never said anything. We’d be making love and Freddy would mutter something about wanting to have a baby, and I wasn’t exactly ignoring him, I just didn’t say anything. He never brought it up when we weren’t in bed. He started saying this around the beginning of May. I quit taking the pill. Get pregnant in June. Then find out in July that the bastard is marrying Laurie who is twelve weeks pregnant. He must’ve known. Surely she didn’t just realize she was pregnant in July, surely they talked about it first.”
No one says anything. What is there to say? Everyone can tell Bobbie just noticed the odd similarity.
“Damn,” Bobbie says. “Maybe I should’ve told him I was pregnant. I didn’t even know I was pregnant until the week after he moved out, the week after he told me about Laurie. I just thought my period was screwy because I stopped taking the pill. That’s not true. When I missed the first period, I didn’t want to know quite yet. I wasn’t ready to tell Freddy. Things were off between us. Come on, I had to go to Hawaii alone. He has vacation time. I come back and he’s rarely home. I just thought I’d take the test when I could talk to Freddy about it, let him know I wasn’t taking the pill. Then everything just started to spiral out of control. He’d come home. We’d argue. I should’ve had sex with that guy in Hawaii. I was so damn close too. But, no, I did everything but trying to remain loyal to Freddy.”
Everything but, Maria thinks but doesn’t say. That’s what they’d say in high school while they defended their virginity. I did everything but…..
“You never said anything. Why?” Maria asks.
“You were in Alaska when he moved out in July. I was in Hawaii in June. Now it’s August and I’m telling you.”
Jill leans over to look at the waiter’s watch. “It’s after ten. I need to get to bed. It’s been too long. Too much catching up. We need to get together sooner next time,” she says, figuring the next time will be for a baby shower, and that won’t be any time soon.
“Well, congratulations, Maria! I’m so happy for you.” Candace gives Maria an awkward hug, then walks over to Bobbie and says, “Call me if you need anything.”
They all walk out to the parking lot together. The waiter watches, wondering about his tip.
Bobbie gets into Maria’s car, they say a final goodbye to the others before closing the door. The moment they leave the parking lot, Bobbie begins to sob. Maria continues driving. She needs to cry. There is no more use for words. Loud wailing fills the car. Maria wonders if her baby will cry like this, this mournful, desperate wailing where she will be left feeling so futile, so useless.
She stops the car and holds Bobbie while she sobs. Maria notices how Bobbie’s head rests upon her stomach. She feels her first true sense of maternal energy rubbing Bobbie’s head, senses all that Bobbie has lost.
girls’ night
About the Author: Diane Payne
Diane teaches creative writing at University of Arkansas-Monticello. She is the author of two novels, Burning Tulips and A New Kind of Music. She has been published in hundreds of literary magazines. More info can be found at: http://home.earthlink.net/~dianepayne/