6. Chapter Six
Chapter Six
“The expectant young mother should cherish every engagement with her friends, since the arrival of the baby will drastically change those relationships, perhaps beyond repair.”
A Young Woman’s Guide to the Joy of Impending Motherhood
Dr. Francine Pascal Reid (1941)
E very Monday night, I meet my two best girlfriends for drinks, dinner or a movie. We’ve done it for years, and it’s a way we can make sure to stay connected with each other. A girl needs her friends. Despite the not-so-positive reactions I was getting, I was still looking forward to running my idea of having a baby past them.
″I can’t believe I found the perfect shoes for my wedding dress!” Brit shrieked as we settled in at one of the high round tables surrounding the bar. Tonight we were meeting for drinks at an upscale martini bar close to Brit’s office, and it was already quite crowded. I’m sure the adjoining tables were just as excited to hear about Brit’s shoe purchase as I was.
Brit and I have been friends since grade nine when we realized that discussing painful menstrual cramps in a loud voice could get us out of participating in Mr. McDonald’s gym class. Unfortunately for Brit, her last name is Spears. She dropped the “ney” in 1999, when the “imposter,” as Brit still calls her, became famous. The two of us have both weathered some storms over the years—Brit’s parents’ divorce, my mother’s lifestyle, living in different cities during university, and a disastrous attempt at being roommates after graduation—but the thing that’s always remained constant in our lives is our friendship. Brit at thirty-five may be a totally different person than she was at fifteen and we might not see eye to eye about everything like we used to, but she’s still my best friend and we do have a ton of history together.
I also know that underneath all the me-me-me talk, my old friend Brit is still there somewhere. She’ll return someday. It’s like how I keep hoping someone will make a sequel to The Wedding Singer.
I think Brit, more than anyone, will understand my desire to have a baby since she shares an equal obsession with getting married. She’s been doodling hearts and Mrs. So-and-So in her notebooks since she was twelve. Her little fixation extended out of high school, into and past university, and well into her thirties. Like me wanting to find the perfect guy for baby-making, every time Brit dates a new guy, she’s mentally measuring him for the dove-grey morning coat and keeps slipping in comments over drinks about how “Wind Beneath My Wings” is her favourite song. I’m sure it’s pretty frightening for a guy only looking to get laid.
Lucky for Brit, she finally met Tom Smith, who fully indulges her obsession. He good-naturedly tolerates her five-foot-high stack of Today’s Bride magazines and even sits through endless sessions with Brit’s three scrapbooks filled with wedding ideas. And to top it off, he even proposed last year. I guess he is perfect for her since every other candidate turned tail and ran when confronted with the scrapbooks. They’re getting married on Labour Day weekend.
″…five-inch heels, which I know will make my feet ache by the end of the night, but they look so sexy, and you know, Tom is a good six inches taller than me so we’ll be a little more equal. Just think how good we’ll look standing together saying our vows! It’ll be perfect!”
″You didn’t tell her the best part,” Morgan interrupted eagerly.
I met Morgan during my first year at university. When we met, Morgan was quiet, a little shy, and a bit overwhelmed moving into the city from the small town where she grew up. Plus she’d never had a serious boyfriend. Not that I was some urbane sophisticate, but at least I was familiar with Toronto, having grown up in the West End. Morgan and I lived across the hall from each other in residence, and since we both loved eighties music, watched Beverly Hills 90210, and drank Long Island Iced Tea, our friendship was inevitable and instantaneous.
Like all of us, Morgan has gone through a few changes over the years. This gorgeously groomed woman sitting across from me is a far cry from the shy nineteen-year-old with the outdated haircut and the denim overalls she wore practically every day. Now, Morgan is almost clapping her hands with excitement over a pair of shoes. Did I mention the effect Brit has had on Morgan over the years?
To start with, the clothes. I used to be into shopping as much as the two of them—which was the main reason I got into debt so deeply—but while I finally managed to learn to control myself, Morgan was borderline out-of-control. Sure, both Morgan and Brit have way better incomes than I do, but wasn’t buying a thirteen-hundred-dollar suit from Holt Renfrew just because you like the colour of the lapels on the jacket a bit much? Tonight, Morgan had on the exact outfit I saw in this month’s InStyle, the one they called the “academic look”—even the fake glasses and the silver earrings she had to order online. Last month, we had to scour the city for every piece of the weekend-on-a-boat look.
″I know, I know—they’re Manolo Blahniks! Can you imagine?” Brit was still shrieking. “I know I paid too much, but I had to. They’re perfect. I love them. The straps are cream leather, but the heel—the heel! —is the best part. They’re blue! A beautiful periwinkle blue, and I think I’ll match the ribbon of my garter to them. How perfect is that? I’ve never felt so much love toward one thing—no, not even Tom, but don’t tell him that!” she laughed.
You’d never know it from listening to her talk, but Brit’s a CFO for a midsize accounting firm downtown. She loves her career and has a huge amount of responsibility offset by an even bigger salary, but can easily sound like a ’tween gushing about High School Musical.
″Perfect,” I told her between sips of my martini. I couldn’t help but wonder if I’d get a chance to even mention the baby thing tonight. Brit seemed to be on a roll.
″They are simply beautiful!” Morgan assured me. “Super expensive, but so worth it. I really hope I can find a pair to go with my dress when it’s my turn.”
To think that only yesterday I was listening to my sister rant about the expense of children’s shoes. It was almost like I’d jumped into an alternate reality with these two.
″Of course, you will,” Brit promised. “I’ll help you look.” She smiled reassuringly at Morgan. “And I’m sure it will be any day now that Anil pops the question.”
Morgan has been with Anil for six years now. They share a house together, and Morgan has been impatiently waiting for Anil to ask her to marry him so that she can acquire the status of “being engaged” and all the benefits and privileges that go with it. Having watched Brit stress herself out needlessly for the past eighteen months trying to plan the perfect wedding, I saw no benefits or privileges of “being engaged.”
″How is Anil?” I asked politely. I don’t think Anil is amazing. He’s okay but wouldn’t be my first choice for a husband. Morgan loves him for some reason, so therefore I tolerate him for her sake and keep my true feelings to myself like the good friend I am.
″He’s been working so much lately,” she complained. “He’s never home.”
″He’s working to pay for the huge rock he’s going to get for you—just wait,” Brit told her before turning to me. “You look good tonight. Have you lost weight?”
″Not that I know of,” I said with surprise. I tucked a stray curl behind my ear. Brit may have morphed into one of the most self-absorbed people I know, but when she decides to pay attention to you, it’s like the sunrise breaking over the mountains. She’s got that type of personality, which is probably why I put up with her selfishness. When Brit is nice, she’s very, very nice. Plus there’s the whole being-friends-for-twenty-years thing.
Brit gave me an approving nod. “I think you must have. You can help me. I’ve got to lose three and a half pounds before the wedding, or my dress will not zip up.” And then she was off again.
″Yes, the wedding I went to on the weekend was fine,” I said into a pause a little later when it didn’t appear either Brit or Morgan were about to ask me anything about my weekend. I knew I’d be able to grab their attention with the word wedding.
″Oh, that’s right, Ethan and Darcy got married. Was it nice?” Morgan asked. Brit sniffed not so delicately, and then when I didn’t comment on her sniff, she sniffed again. See, Brit is good friends with Ethan’s ex-girlfriend Denise, which is how I met him. We hit it off right away—Ethan and me, not Denise, whom I really couldn’t stand, although I never told Brit that—and when Denise walked out on him, I didn’t shun him like Brit, but kept in touch. Then he met Darcy. Darcy and I clicked right away—obviously, since I was one of her bridesmaids. I don’t think Brit likes it when I have a friendship that doesn’t include her. She can be a bit possessive. It’s sort of like having a small dog that growls when anyone walks by.
″The wedding itself was lovely, but Mike and I broke up,” I said offhandedly .
″What?” Brit shrieked loudly. “Oh, Casey, not again! Breaking up is so drastic, don’t you think? Are you sure that was the right thing to do? Mike isn’t perfect—no man but Tom is, really—but let’s face it, Casey, he is your best chance of getting a ring on your finger before you’re thirty-six.”
I believe I’ve mentioned Brit’s obsession with getting married. Well, it also includes Morgan, me, and the rest of the single world.
″Mike is the very last person I want to marry,” I told them empathically. “I’d rather take on Charlie Sheen with his porn and prostitute predilection than marry a man even remotely like Mike.”
″You can be honest with us,” Brit said. “You must be miserable.”
″Did you break up before or after you slept with him?” Morgan asked sadly. “I don’t know what would be worse.”
″It was before. He found someone at the church.” Even though Morgan knew of my plans for Mike and I told her about the little scene I interrupted in the coatroom, for some reason I didn’t disclose what happened later with J.B. Morgan, like my sister, thinks J.B. is terrific and hot and would want too many details.
″What an ass!” Brit declared. “Did you at least get in a good swift kick when you caught him?”
″Tempted to, but no. I decided he wasn’t worth the effort. Plus I was wearing heels, and you know how shaky my balance is when I have them on.”
″Good for you,” Morgan said loyally. “If that’s what he’s like, then you’re better off without him. There’s plenty more fish in the sea.”
″Actually, I think my fishing days might be coming to an end,” I told them. “The way I look at it, it’s a good thing this happened, because it’s finally made me wake up and realize there’s no reason I need to be waiting around for a man. I’m just going to have a baby by myself.”
″A baby what?” Morgan asked in an odd voice, sounding as unacademic as she possibly could despite the outfit.
″A baby baby. You know, goo-goo, gaa-gaa. A baby—remember, what I’ve always wanted?” Morgan and Brit were staring at me like I’d just announced the colour magenta was the new wedding white.
″You’re pregnant?” Brit gasped in horror.
″No. No! Not yet, anyway. I just want to have a baby. I’m thinking, now’s the time to just get with it and do it by myself.”
“Yourself?” Brit repeated. “You’ve always had this crazy idea you need to have a baby, but by yourself? You need a husband or at least a suitable, committed boyfriend for that, so he can marry you after you lose the baby weight.” She shook her head disdainfully, her blonde waves falling perfectly back into place. “Be serious, Casey.” She tapped a manicured nail against her martini glass. This week’s colour was plum, which matched her eye shadow quite well. The one time I went for a manicure with Brit, I almost lunged across the table at the girl when she tried to push down my cuticles. It wouldn’t hurt, she informed me rather prissily, if I had learned proper grooming techniques, especially for my nail beds. I never knew nails had a bed. Needless to say, I didn’t leave a tip.
″I don’t understand,” Morgan said dumbly. She kept adjusting her fake glasses like she wanted to take them off but was afraid of spoiling the look she was going for, the successful-woman-who-reads-Homer-in-the-original-Greek look. It was a stretch since the only Greek Morgan knows is opa! She looks better without the glasses. “Why would you want that? And who would the father be?”
″Well, that’s the issue here,” I confessed. “I think the only option I’m left with is to go with artificial insemination, but I’m still not too keen on that. I was wondering if either of you might have any ideas?”
″Don’t have a baby,” Brit told me bluntly, echoing J.B.’s words and tone exactly. It was probably the first time the two of them had ever agreed on anything, but I doubted either of them would find the humour in that. “Besides, I don’t think this is the best time for that. You are going to be pretty busy for the next couple of months, you know.”
″I am?” School was ending at the end of the month, and July and August were normally the most relaxing time for a teacher. I couldn’t remember planning anything that might keep me too busy for conceiving a child.
″My wedding!” Brit shrieked, loud enough for several tables to glance over at us. “How could you forget that?”
″I have no idea,” I told her sarcastically, which was lost on her. I saw Morgan lean back from the table, distancing herself from this conversation. Morgan and I might be closer these days, but Brit and I had more history than The History of the Decline and Fall of the Roman Empire.
″I don’t either,” Brit said staunchly. “I would think that might be forefront in your mind these days. Best friend getting married. Living lifelong dream.”
″Exactly. Which is why I thought you of all people might take an interest in this. Having a baby has been my lifelong dream, if you remember. ”
“Yes, but it’s not fair to have a baby to compensate for the lack of a man in your life,” Brit lectures. “Get another cat if you’re lonely. A baby can’t compensate for lack of sex, you know.”
″I do know that,” I said with exasperation. “One has nothing to do with the other.”
″Well, they kind of do,” Morgan cut in, trying to lighten the mood. “Normally you have sex in order to have a baby, and from what I’ve heard, once you have a baby, you don’t get to have much sex.”
″I’m not trying to compensate for anything,” I said angrily to Brit, ignoring Morgan’s efforts. “That’s a mean thing to say. I’m perfectly happy without a man. I’m not lonely. How can you say that? I’m never lonely—I’m always busy and…”
″I’m not trying to be mean,” Brit said. But she couldn’t look me in the eye, and she took a tiny sip of her pomegranate martini. One thing about Brit—like it or not—is that she’s always honest. I don’t think she’s ever learned how to pull her punches. And while it’s helpful to have her around to tell me truthfully if my bum looks too big in a pair of pants, I’d rather do without any frank assessment of whether I am lonely or not.
Morgan cleared her throat. “Is this a sure thing?”
″Well, no, since I’m not pregnant. But I hope to be soon.”
″And this is how you want to do it? Are you sure?”
″Of course not!” Brit exclaimed before I could answer Morgan. “That’s just crazy, post-breakup, desperate talk. If she’s going to do this—which I have to repeat, is not a good idea—at least get a proper man for the job. Who knows what you’d end up with if you go to some clinic?″ The utter disdain in Brit’s voice made me smile. It was exactly the same tone of voice that she used when I once told her I bought a pair of sandals at Payless.
″I’m sure they screen the men properly. I doubt too many serial killers manage to get through,” I told her.
″Isn’t there anyone…?” Morgan continued. “Cooper, or your brother-in-law, or…?”
Brit gave an impatient sigh. “If you’re looking for the right man to get you pregnant, then obviously you should have Tom do it.”
I glanced at Morgan, who was wearing the same expression of amazement as I was, before I answered Brit. “Do you know exactly what you’re proposing?” I asked slowly. “You’re suggesting I have a baby with your husband-to-be?”
″Well, it wouldn’t be his baby,” Brit scorned.
″Uh—yes, it would! ”
″It sort of would, Brit,” Morgan echoed.
″Oh.” Brit was silent for a moment. Caught up in her pride and smugness in landing such a fine specimen of a man, she obviously didn’t think this through. “I’m just saying that Tom would be the perfect choice if I were willing to allow him to father another woman’s baby. That’s all.”
″And if Tom were okay with the whole situation,” Morgan put in with a tiny smile.
″Why wouldn’t he be?” Brit asked seriously. “If I asked him, then that would mean I thought it was fine, so why wouldn’t he?”
″I’m going to forget you suggested it,” I told Brit, once again taken aback at Brit’s utter conviction that the universe revolved around her. “But now, can you see why I’m considering insemination?”
″I say you hold off for as long as you can,” Morgan told me. “It’s not that we don’t think you’d be a great mother, but I don’t know why you’d want to do it yourself. It just seems like an awful lot of work. I think you should wait a bit more. There’s still time. You could meet someone tomorrow, you know?”
″The thought just makes me so tired.”
Morgan patted my hand. “It seems a shame that we’re both so happy,” she indicated her and Brit, “and you haven’t been able to find someone. I always think it was a shame things didn’t work out with you and David.”
″Who?” Brit demanded.
″I was just thinking about him the other day,” I admitted slowly, remembering my conversation Sunday morning with Cooper and Emma.
″Who are you talking about?” Brit repeated, her voice increasing in volume like it always does when she thinks she’s being ignored.
″David Mason. Don’t you remember?” Morgan asked her. “When Casey and I were in university, she went out with David. He was so cute,” she swooned nostalgically. “And nice and…”
″He was perfect,” I admitted ruefully.
″Didn’t you break up with him when we went to Europe?” Brit asked, interrupting my inner reminiscing about the very best boyfriend I ever had. So what if I was only nineteen when we met? We had four wonderful years together until graduation.
I nodded. “Stupid move on my part.”
″Not at all,” Brit argued. “We had a great time in Europe without him. And if he was so important, he should have waited around for you. ”
I really don’t think Brit understands the concept of breaking up with someone. Or else she has a slew of ex-boyfriends waiting in the wings in the hope that she might change her mind. Considering how truly gorgeous she’s turned out, it might actually be possible, if they forget about certain aspects of her personality, which is actually possible to do when she’s having a nice day. It also explains how I’m still best friends with her.
″See? There is someone out there for you,” Morgan assured me enthusiastically. “And he would be perfect to have a baby with. Now you just have to wait until David pops back into your life. Maybe he’ll show up at your school tomorrow, picking up his kid… well, maybe not his kid, because that would mean he has kids and possibly a wife, which wouldn’t really help, but maybe someone else’s kids! Maybe…”
I couldn’t help laughing at Morgan’s animation. “I don’t think I’ll hold my breath. If I wait for that, I’m sure my eggs will all dry out, and I’ll never have a baby. But it’s a nice fantasy.”