The Better Half(77)
Leo sits across from me at dinner, not next to me so we can be shoulder to shoulder, touching, like we used to do. Our meals are full of baby business and gender guessing, our conviction to not find out the sex a shared one. We bat around names, easily adding to our growing list, neither committing to nor rejecting the other’s suggestions. And the expensive crib I’d been coveting? Leo ordered without balking at the price, but UPS rather than baby daddy delivered it to my door.
After every dinner I ask Leo if he wants to stay over, and his answer is always the same, well rehearsed. Better not. The baby needs a good night’s sleep. If not a sleepover, I ask if he wants to come in and say hi to my dad, maybe stay and watch a show with us before he heads home, but the polite refusals continue. I can tell from his downward gaze that he misses our old way of being, but Leo’s a man of principle, and he is sticking to his word. Until I can commit to fully engaging in a life with him, he’s not interested in compromising beyond what’s best for the baby. Like clockwork Leo gives me a kiss good night, lingering an extra moment, giving me hope that this is the night that will be different, then he pushes the front door open to send me inside. Alone.
“Dad, I can’t talk about my relationship tonight. I’ve got too much to do.” I sigh, knowing my need to escape this conversation has nothing to do with my professional dilemma and everything to do with what I must face personally.
“Can’t or won’t?” Dad accuses. I shrug.
“Dad, I’ve been down this road before, and I’ve tried to talk to Leo about the hard parts of marriage and raising a baby, but he wants no part of it, his head is so stuck in the clouds.”
“Nina, what’s wrong with a man wanting to be with you? Life’s too short to waste the gift of love.”
Mom was the mushy one. Where’s all this emotional stuff coming from? I wonder to myself.
“I can’t explain what’s holding me back, Dad, but I don’t have the energy to figure it out right now.”
“Nina, ambivalence about your future gets you nowhere other than exactly where you are.”
THIRD TRIMESTER
TWENTY-FOUR
FROM: Nina Morgan Clarke
DATE: March 2
SUBJECT: Xandra’s debut
TO: Graham Clarke
Graham,
I’m arriving in New York around two the day of the performance, will rent a car and meet you outside the theater at 6:30. Please bring flowers for Xandra, she’s worked hard to be a Tony-worthy inanimate object.
Nina
I continue to keep Graham’s and my parenting relationship strictly on email, but since Graham broke the communication seal last fall, he’s embraced bugging me over text.
Graham 2:42 PM
I happen to know Xandra would prefer a VISA gift card for her efforts. Is Brad coming to hold your purse?
As long as it’s not a gift card for more piercing, I’m going to let this one go. Flowers die, but plastic cash is always the right color, always the right fit. It’s so like Graham to forget Leo’s name.
Nina 2:43 PM
His name’s not Brad. It’s Leo.
Graham 2:43 PM
I know that, but your Uncle Sam sounds like a Brad to me.
It never crossed my mind to ask Leo if he wants to come to New York with me. I’m pretty sure if he won’t come inside my house, he most certainly won’t come with me across the country. But now that Graham’s trying to goad me into a verbal battle, my brain shuts off and my fingers fly.
Nina 2:45 PM
Of course, he’s coming.
Whoosh . . .
Nina 2:47 PM
Mayday, Mayday, Sol! I just texted Graham that Leo’s coming with me to see Xandra’s play!
Marisol 2:48 PM
In New York? Did I miss a major development between last month’s heel scrub and today’s SOS? BTW what do you think about a new Cocktails and Colonics offering? I think it would be a perfect complement to the Clean Slate’s list of services. You can get cleaned up inside AND out. Yes? No?
Damn if that wouldn’t elevate her brand, but right now, we’re talking about my shitstorm.
Nina 2:51 PM
I’ve literally never thought about colonics. On brand, but not on topic. What do I do here Sol, I fly out in three days.
Minutes tick by without a response from Marisol. I turn my phone off and back on, my only known high-tech hack. Still nothing from Marisol, but Roan pokes his head into my office at that moment.
“Are you heading over in a few to watch the middle school basketball game?” Roan asks, I assume hoping I won’t make him go.
“I’m considering it. Do you think Courtney’s going to be there?” I’ve been hustling around campus to avoid Courtney at drop-off, pickup, and parent council meetings. Hustle may be a strong word for a woman pushing forty pregnancy pounds, but I get the job done. Our next face-to-face will be the April 2 board meeting, and I prefer to wait until then.
Ding.
I hold my index finger up before Roan can start making excuses.
Marisol 3:08 PM
Marry the guy.
Nina 3:08 PM
By Saturday?!
Marisol 3:09 PM
Not my fault you waited until the last minute.
“Let’s go,” I say to Roan. Even though he’s pissed at Jared for being an accomplice to an admissions heist, I know he still likes to gawk.