Chapter 40 #2
that I was struggling, especially when you are all doing so well. I mean, coming back and seeing everyone was so, so good.
But it really reminded me how far behind I am.”
“You’re not behind,” Marnie says. “It’s not a race.”
“But it feels like it sometimes,” Maya says, like she understands.
“You want to know the truth?” Taylor sets her sandwich down.
“The truth is always best,” I say, a reminder to myself.
“I’m not sure I can do this,” Taylor says.
“Do what?” I ask.
“The baby thing,” she says.
“Uh, Taylor, I hate to tell you this,” Maya says, “but you’re doing it.”
Her eyes turn glassy as her gaze falls to her lap. “I know.”
I reach over and take her hand. “What’s wrong?”
Her words all come out at once.
“Babies don’t come with instruction books.
And am I losing all of my independence by becoming a mother?
My body, my time, my life—they’ll all belong to this baby now.
And what if I’m bad at it? What if Aaron comes home from work and I’m covered in baby puke and the house is a mess and we’re eating ramen for the fifth night in a row because it’s all I can handle making?
Or what if the baby won’t sleep or poop or I don’t have milk or I have to put cabbage leaves on my boobs? ” She’s fully crying now.
“Okay, so much to unpack there,” Maya says.
“The cabbage leaves are just an old wives’ tale,” Marnie says, but then tosses me an I-don’t-know-what-to-do-here look.
Taylor is near a full-on meltdown. “I didn’t just hear it from Mrs. Copecki. I read about it in a book!”
“Hey, hey, hey,” I say, putting a hand on hers. “It’s scary. And unknown. And life-changing. But you’re not alone. Let’s start
with the fact that Aaron is all in,” I say. “You’re partners, Taylor. He’s going to help with the cooking and the diapers
and the... cabbage leaves.” I steal Marnie’s expression and volley it back to her.
A tear slips down Taylor’s cheek, and she wipes it away, then sniffs so loudly it prompts Marnie to hand her a napkin.
“Taylor, it’s normal to be scared about big life changes,” Marnie says. “You don’t think I was scared to move to Milwaukee
and start a whole new job?”
Taylor turns toward our friend. “You were?”
“Yeah, we’re not all brave like Rosie,” she says.
I freeze at the comment. Me? Brave? They’re not around to see my hands shaking almost every single day, to watch me pep talk
myself in the mirror when I get ready because otherwise I’ll never survive. “You think I’m brave?”
“Duh!” Maya’s eyes go wide. “You’re so brave, Rosie. Nobody else had the guts to leave. To move to New York City. That’s wild.”
“And inspiring,” Taylor says. “Who cares if it isn’t exactly what you thought? You’re really out there doing it.”
“Yeah, I think you sort of inspired me to dream bigger,” Marnie says. “I wouldn’t have applied for that Milwaukee job if it
weren’t for you.”
I frown.
“You’re totally fearless,” Marnie says.
I sink a little in my seat under the weight of humility. “Some people would call it stupidity.”
“Well, we aren’t those people,” Taylor says. “We think it’s amazing.”
“Does it change your perception if I tell you how hard it’s been?” I ask. “That I’ve barely been getting by?”
“No,” Marnie says. “It makes me feel a little better actually. Because I’m only two months into this job, and the anxiety
has not gone away. I could really mess this up. And chances like this don’t come along every day.” She pauses. “What if I
fail?”
What if I fail? The question taps me on the shoulder, begging for my attention.
“You won’t fail,” Maya says. “You were born for this.”
“You really were,” Taylor agrees.
I sit there, listening to them, these three amazing, smart, and strong women. I’d spent months comparing myself to them, assuming
I knew the feelings behind their fearlessness, but the truth is, I didn’t.
And I didn’t ask.
I held myself back from them, when actually we’re really all the same.
“I’m terrified to be a mayor’s wife,” Maya admits. She takes a long drink of her soda through a straw. “Politics aside, people
are just brutal to public figures. I know it’s a small town and everything, but that makes it even worse. I mean, everyone
knew me before Matty. Will any of them take me seriously?”
“I can’t believe this whole time I thought I was the only one,” I say.
“I can’t either,” Taylor says. “I’ve been freaking out since I found out I was pregnant.”
“You’re all scared too,” I say, marveling at the revelation.
“ Everyone’s a little scared, Rosie,” Marnie says. “Even the people who seem like they know what they’re doing all the time.”
“Somehow, I convinced myself I was the only screwup,” I say.
Maya laughs. “Do you even know me?”
“You own your own business,” I say.
“That Matty helped me buy.” She looks a little embarrassed.
“Look, Rosie, it doesn’t matter anyway,” Taylor says. “Because the truth is, you can tell us anything. Even if you were the only one who was a first-class disaster, which you are not, we would love you because of who you are.”
“That’s what friends do,” Marnie adds.
I’ve been so stupid. I was so worried about what they would think. So worried I was letting them—everyone—down, and so embarrassed
by my own situation that I let it all keep me isolated. Lonely.
Now I see all the ways my friends and I are alike.
Battling fears and worries. Navigating joy and hurt and disappointment and excitement. Moving through each chapter of life
as best we can.
None of us have it figured out.
Maya is right. In a way, we’re all pretending. Not because we want to keep ourselves hidden, but because we just don’t know
yet who we’re supposed to be. Or maybe we’re afraid of change.
“I’m so sorry,” I say quietly.
They all look at me.
“For what?” Taylor asks, her mascara a wet line of sludge underneath her eyes.
“For not trusting you guys with the truth,” I say. “I was too embarrassed to admit I’m not perfect.”
They all burst out laughing. “Uh, we always knew you weren’t perfect, Rosie,” Maya says.
I laugh with them, aware that there’s a lump in my throat that’s going to demand some attention, and as I do, my phone dings with a new email alert.
I look down and see it’s from Britta Shockley.
“Everything good, Rosie?” Marnie asks.
I tuck my phone away and choose to stay in the moment. “Everything’s great.” I smile.
“Now that we’ve fully established that we’re all making things up as we go...” Taylor sets her fork down. “Where’s the
bathroom?”