‘Everything is perfect,’ said Ruby. ‘Oh, and the cupcakes with the little iced booties are so cute.’ She paused, glanced quickly towards Mum and Auntie Carol who were arranging vases of peonies, then lowered her voice. ‘You’re okay with being here today, aren’t you?’
‘Of course, Elodie’s still—’
‘No, I mean, being so involved in the baby shower must be hard because you and Ethan still haven’t …’
It’s no secret we’re trying for a baby. Supposed to be trying. It is a secret that a year into my marriage I thought I was pregnant. The test was positive. I was happy, but scared too, because who actually wants to go through labour? I thought Ethan would be delighted, but when I told him, he turned grey and said, ‘I’m sorry, it’s just not the right time for us.’ Then listed all the reasons it wasn’t the right time for him. ‘I’m working towards a promotion at work, we haven’t moved into our “forever” home yet, we have a trip to the Maldives coming up in a few months. We could really do without this right now, Ada. Maybe we should talk about termination and try for another later down the line.’ He spoke as if the pregnancy were another of his business meetings that could be rescheduled. So I wasn’t surprised by his clear sense of relief when I went to the doctor and their test was negative.
I was very down in the months that followed. Ruby stepped in, dragging me out of the house and whisking me away for a spa weekend. She wasn’t even mad I cancelled half the treatments she’d paid for, instead curling up in the fluffy robe and crying in our room. She kept saying, ‘You’ll have a baby one day. I know you will.’
What she didn’t realise was that I wasn’t grieving for the pregnancy, but for the man I thought I’d married. It was the first time I realised how selfish Ethan is. I never told you this because I’ve always felt we are in a never-ending game of tennis with each other. Admitting my marriage isn’t perfect would be like deliberately scoring a double fault.
‘It’s fine. I’ve loved organising the shower,’ I reassured her. ‘I’m happy for you and Tom.’
Then she was gone, pulling out her phone and snapping photos for her feed because a large portion of Ruby’s life is dedicated to proving to people that she has one, and it is worthy of jealousy. Not that I can throw stones, since, as a woman without a career or children, so much effort is poured into curating the perfect life. Your house must always be pristine because if not, people will wonder what the fuck else you do with your time. Your hosting skills must be tip-top; guests’ glasses should never be empty – like radio, there should never be dead air – and every aspect of the meals you serve must be impeccable because if not, people will wonder what the fuck else you do with your time. Your marriage must be loving and fun, but also meaningful, and you must make sure others know your marriage is loving and fun, but also meaningful, because if not, people will wonder what the fuck else you do with your time. It’s important to note they must know about your fun, loving but also meaningful marriage without you shoving it in their face like a cream pie. It is a pie to be smelt and displayed on a window ledge and admired.
And while you’re doing all this, you must stick to some very strict rules: you must not be too thin （women will gossip about your eating disorder） or too fat （women will bitch about all your baby-free, job-free time and how if they had all that baby-free, job-free time, they’d be doing Joe Wicks’ workouts every morning）。 You must not be too loud （leave that to the men and the pint-drinking women of the world） or too quiet （that’s for the knitters and the downtrodden wives which you are not, remember, because your marriage is fun and loving but also meaningful）。 Don’t be too clever （you didn’t go to university and get that post-grad job） but don’t be too thick either （even though they suspect you might be a little dim, you barren, degree-less, stay-at-home wife）。
In the corner, Uncle Gregory was having a quiet word with Mum. She dabbed at her eyes and he pulled her into a hug. They were talking about you in the last few minutes it was allowed. You see, even though we have more questions than ever, we’d agreed on a blanket ban regarding your disappearance for Ruby’s shower because this was her special day and smudging it with grief and anxiety wasn’t fair. So, by the time the guests arrived, Uncle Gregory and Mum were smiling widely, though Mum’s seemed stitched on. She didn’t look well – thinner, paler, older.