The Better Half(33)
“Why didn’t you snag me one if they were handing them out like free pound cake bites at Costco? You know I love a good gift bag.”
“Wouldn’t you be burned at the stake if the head of Royal-Hawkins walked around in pricy Bar Mitzvah giveaways? Isn’t that the private school equivalent of an ethical violation?”
“Yeah, but I need some, shall we say, less body contouring clothing.” Drew, our favorite Clean Slate bartender, has brought Marisol and me our sodas and cranberry juice, but not without shooting us a look that asks, Who are you two and what have you done with the REAL Marisol and Nina? Drew was on vacation when Marisol vowed to be a sober sister with me until I figured out the solution to my current state. I watch her stir her drink with a frown like she’s preparing to down a gallon of saline water before a colonoscopy.
“It’s only a nonalcoholic drink, not a poison chalice,” I remind Marisol.
“Pretty much kissing cousins in my book.” Marisol cheers with a smirk and takes a sip.
“If we can’t talk about the baby SIT-U-A-TION,” Marisol says, circling my stomach with her index finger. “Can we talk about the grown baby you already have?”
“Absolutely.” Since Xandra’s no longer at home to talk to, I relish any opportunity to talk about my girl. Even though she’s in her second year at Pemberley, the house still seems unnaturally quiet. When my dad stays with me, we enjoy each other’s company, but no doubt I miss Xandra every day.
“So, what does your big baby think of this maybe baby?”
“Do you need to check in on your boys?” I ask, pointing at Marisol’s phone and trying to distract her from the topic of my offspring.
“Nope, Spanny’s got ’em. Driving to some soccer field who knows where.” Marisol waves away my concern over her boys when Super Nanny’s in charge. “God did not intend for me to spend every afternoon cheering from the sidelines. I only show up for the games. Back to you, sis.”
I marvel at Marisol’s ability to ignore the pull of her children when she’s not at work. Call it Graham or call it guilt, but if I was not at work, I was racing home to Xandra. It never crossed my mind to carve out me time, and Graham would have never paid another woman, regardless of how wonderful they were, to help raise his child when, in his mind, he had me for free.
“What happened to my no ‘situation’ talk request?”
“You said I could ask about Xandra,” Marisol says with mock innocence. I see there’s no way out of this conversation. Her Bar Mitzvah chatter was only meant to throw me off scent so Marisol could tee me up for this topic.
“Over the weekend, Xandra and I attempted to have a mature conversation about Leo, but most of the maturity was left to me. I told her that Leo and I have been in touch since he left for Singapore.”
“How’d she take it?”
“With a side of silence. So, then I moved on to the topic we both have been avoiding.”
“The baby?”
“NO! I told Xandra that I knew she saw me and Leo smooching in the driveway before she left for school. I apologized that she had to see that without first being properly introduced to Leo. I explained it was never supposed to happen that way and we should talk about it.”
“How’d that go?”
“Xandra’s contribution to this important mother-daughter exchange was, ‘Yeah, okay. It’s whatever, Mom. I gotta go. Dash is waiting on me.’ Then click,” I recount to Marisol. “Given the chilly reception I got and with a country between us, it was not the moment to call back and say, ‘One, last thing, your old mom had sex and the result is that right about the time of your sweet sixteen, you’re going to be a big sister!’”
“Yeah, keeping Xandra on hold about the maybe baby is probably a good idea. So then, four out of five of us know you’re knocked up.”
“I’m not quite following your math,” I admit.
“So far you, Leo, Fitzroy, and me know you’re hiding a baby in there,” Marisol says, pointing to my waistband. “Xandra’s a TBD.”
“Ah, got it. Right.”
“Real talk, then. Since most of the important people in your life know, I’m done tap dancing around this topic. Leo’s over the moon about having a baby. You know that, ring on the finger or not, Fitzroy will love this baby like crazy. A new grandchild may even get him to move here full-time like you’ve been hinting at the past few years. And Xandra, well, she’s our wild card, but we will take on the teenage beast when the time is right.” I close my eyes; I know what Marisol is going to say. “What’s holding you back from having this coffee bean you got brewing? Which, by the way, since its Leo’s ain’t gonna be dark roast. People may think it’s my baby.” Marisol laughs quickly at her ill-timed joke. I give her a courtesy hoot.
“You promise not to judge me for anything I admit to you in the next few minutes?” If I can’t tell my best friend my truth, I’m screwed, because I’m about to lose it from the thoughts consuming my every waking moment.
“Girl, I’m behind you one hundred percent. Whether you choose to have this baby, which I know is a hard choice, or you decide to terminate this pregnancy, I’m not going anywhere.” Marisol takes both my hands in hers. To the women attempting to spruce up our feet she asks, “Will you ladies excuse us for a moment? We’re going to need an extralong foot soak.” The nail technicians discreetly walk away, leaving our feet to bubble in the soapy blue water. What I’m about to say is meant for their boss’s ears only.