Book title: How to make a baby and have an uncomplicated, platonic relationship with Josh Lewenthal while pursuing your career, finding fulfillment, and dating your incredibly sexy boss, self-help guru Ian Fortune.
Author: No one. Ever.
Right. So, that’s that. The stack of books by my futon has turned into a mountain and I’m confused about what happened with Josh. Which I don’t need. I asked him to be a donor for many reasons, one of which was that I’m not attracted to him/interested in him.
But spending such an emotional day with him was…nice.
Fine. More than nice.
He texted this morning. All it said was: How’s Friday night?
I wrote back: I babysit for Leah on Fridays.
He wrote: See you then. We’ll do our thing after.
Honestly, what kind of guy wants to babysit kids on a Friday night? I mean, yeah, he’s living at his dad’s, which is only five minutes from Leah’s house, and he does know the kids and my sister and her husband, obviously, but…doesn’t he want to hang out with his guy friends, or go on a hot date?
So I texted: Don’t you usually have a hot date on Fridays?
He wrote back: Haha.
Then: That hot dog stand was a real tragedy for my dating life.
I sent back an emoji rolling its eyes.
And that was the end of it, I’ll be seeing him tomorrow night for babysitting and contract talks.
I frown at my computer screen and readjust the text covering the graphic of the fox and rabbit. Then, the words of the quote sink in. A friend is someone who accepts your past, loves you in the present, and believes in your future.
That’s it. There’s nothing strange about what I felt the other day. I already know he’s able to charm the panties off a nun, so of course I’d feel some attraction on close proximity, but the connection, that was friendship.
That’s it.
We’re becoming friends.
It’s fun to hang out with friends.
Friendship is okay. Friendship is good.
My desk phone rings.
Lavinia glances over at me. She’s been in a sourer mood than usual the past few days. So much so that I’ve stopped pilfering sparkling water from the break room fridge.
“Are you going to answer that?” she asks in a pinched voice.
I pull out my headphones and check the caller ID. It’s Dr. Ingraham’s office.
“Of course I am,” I say and smile blandly at Lavinia.
I grab the phone, “Hello, Gemma speaking,” I say in a business-like tone.
Lavinia frowns at me and narrows her eagle eyes on me. I swivel my chair around to face the quote wall.
“Hi Gemma. It’s Joy, the scheduler at Dr. Ingraham’s office.” I raise my eyebrows. I hadn’t realized the bored, couldn’t-care-less scheduler was named Joy.
“Yes?” I ask, keeping my answers short, knowing that Lavinia is listening. The rest of the staff likes to work with headphones in, but for some reason Lavinia doesn’t.
“So, Dr. Ingraham mentioned the fertility support group, right?”
“Uh, yes. He did mention it.”
“Mhmm. Well, the fertility support group is a benefit we offer all patients as part of our advocacy for mental well-being.”
Joy sounds like she’s reading from a script. I’ve never heard someone so disinterested in what they’re saying. She continues listing off the multitude of benefits to joining a group of women going through the same process.
“Are you interested in joining a support group for the duration of your fertility journey?” she asks in a bored monotone.
I stare at the quotes on the wall and think about the hours I’ve spent trawling the online forums, the books, and all the questions I still have. I think about how nice it would be to meet women who are going through the same thing I am. Women who won’t judge, or question, who will understand.
“Yes. I’m interested,” I say with a happy smile. “Very interested.”
Joy gives a long-suffering sigh. “Fine. I’ll add you to the Thursday night group. They meet weekly at seven o’clock in the basement of Clive’s Comics on East Fourteenth Street. It’s a real dump. Have fun.”
“Um. Okay. Thanks? Wait. Thursday, that’s today right?”
“Uh, yeah,” she says, then she hangs up.
I hold the phone to my ear and smile at the quote wall. I can feel Lavinia still watching me, waiting for my call to end.
So I say, “Of course, yes. I’m very interested. Thank you, Mr. Berners-Lee, you’ve been a real help.”
I turn around in my chair and place the phone back in its cradle. Then I look at Lavinia and smile.