Chapter 36
Ilena
Two Months Before the Outing
Ilena made the same promise she always did: She would never turn into her mother. Then, in a well-practiced move, she bunched
the fabric of her dress in one hand, held the plastic stick in the other, and squatted over the toilet. She closed her eyes,
trying to summon the hope she couldn’t let herself feel even though this time was different. This time she was actually late.
Please, just . . . please.
She set a tissue on the sink and the pregnancy stick on top of it. She checked her watch and opened the bottom drawer of the
vanity where a dozen more tests waited. She fully believed in science. Flawless manufacturing, not so much. Taking a second
test wasn’t unreasonable, a third if she noticed a weakness in the packaging or slight discoloration of the plastic.
“Ilena!” Jonah bellowed from somewhere on the first floor.
She pressed her hip into the edge of the vanity.
“Where are your car keys?” Jonah’s voice grew louder as footsteps hit the stairs. “Is the wine still in the back or—”
His words became muffled as he reached the top of the staircase and presumably entered their bedroom, where he expected to find her.
She crossed her arms, her index finger tapping her elbows. Come on, come on.
Then the door to their guest bathroom burst open.
“Jonah!” Ilena cried. “I’m in here!”
“But why?”
“Oh, I don’t know, maybe for a little privacy?”
“Then lock the door.”
“Knock.”
“You’re late,” he said.
Her heart lifted that he knew, that he was calculating it too.
“Or we’re late, whatever. Of course this whole thing shouldn’t sit on your shoulders even though you are the one who offered
to host. Everyone’s due in five minutes, and the table’s not set, and I can’t find the wine to decant the red, and—”
“I forgot.”
“Forgot what? The wine?”
She hugged her arms tighter, dread building that couldn’t be good for the baby, and oh my god, she really thought there was
a baby. She swallowed past the lump in her throat. “It’s just, AIM was intense today. The valuation is soaring, and I needed
to—”
“What? You needed to what?” Jonah pushed himself through the doorway and looked down. “Dammit, Ilena, again?”
“It’s not what you think. This time I’m—”
“Having a hunch, feeling nauseous, got a sore right boob, sore left boob, the moon’s full, the moon’s not full—”
“That’s not fair.”
“Neither is this.”
“Me forgetting a case of wine? If you weren’t so precious about your Wine Spectator ‘Bottle of the Year’ and all the other bottles you’re laying down or holding for a special occasion, we wouldn’t need me
to run out the day of.”
“That’s not what I meant. I meant this.” He jutted a finger at the drawer full of pregnancy tests. His eyes briefly squeezed shut, and the tension in his voice
ebbed. “We used to love this. We used to love doing this together.”
They did, though Ilena always thought she needed Jonah more than the other way around. Jonah reached for everything. Every
place and every person was an opportunity. He chatted up strangers like each held the chance to become their new best friend,
on planes, in grocery stores, in line for the bathroom during the intermission of Hamilton. It almost got them into a couple swap on vacation in Mexico, but it made things memorable. The same way the random things
he’d sneak onto her shopping list would make her descend into giggles in the frozen food aisle: “turtle eggs” and “DVD of
insect porn” and “bin large enough for a dead body.”
“We used to spend hours in cookbooks, coming up with themes,” he said. “Remember the bacon? Every course.”
Ilena’s shoulders relaxed a little. “No one wanted to try the bacon ice cream.”
“But they loved it. You knew they would. Doing this used to be fun.”
“Fun was a bit easier to come by when I wasn’t using my belly as a pincushion.”
“And that’s my fault?”
“You haven’t gotten me pregnant. So I shoot up and swallow pills and am ruled by my goddamn calendar app.”
“You didn’t have to be. We could have done this another way. But you’ve become so single-minded, there’s nothing else.”
“Oh, but there is. There’s exhaustion. And depression. And fear and doubt and so many mood swings even I can’t keep track. Some days I love you and some days I hate you.”
“I know the feeling.”
Ilena gritted her teeth. “What more do you want from me?”
“That’s the thing, Ilena. All I want is you. This. Us. Or the us we used to be.” When she didn’t respond, his voice hardened. “The dinner you said would be good
for us starts in five minutes. We’ve got no wine to serve, but we do have a hundred useless pregnancy tests.”
Jonah had always been a good balance to Ilena’s more reserved, practical nature. Yet in this, the first real test of their
marriage, she’d come to see his behavior as childish and cavalier. “Nice way to trivialize what’s most important to me.”
“Since when? I swear to god, Ilena, your need to control everything has no end. This only became important to you when it
became something you couldn’t do.”
“Me? Is that what you have to believe out of some neanderthal pride? Is that why you haven’t gone back to the fertility clinic
for the follow-up? It’s been weeks, Jonah, have you even scheduled an appointment?”
“Not since missing the four you scheduled for me.”
“I wouldn’t have to treat you like a child if you didn’t act like one.”
The timer on her phone chirped. Jonah looked down, his face revealing nothing, and snatched the stick before she could.
“Give it to me, Jonah.”
“Now who’s the child? Does someone need to practice sharing?”
“This isn’t funny.” Ilena’s voice cracked.
“No, it’s not.”
The doorbell rang, the long, protracted sound of Big Ben that reminded them of their honeymoon in London.
Jonah kept the stick out of reach. “Tell me, Ilena, if you’re this fixated on a baby that’s not even here, what’s going to happen when it is? Where will we be?”
“Right here. As parents, just like we’ve always wanted.”
“But we haven’t. Shit, I’m to blame for all this. I’m the one who brought it up.” He ran his hand through his hair, separating
the increasing strands of gray. “Do you ever wonder if maybe this isn’t the right choice? If it’s all worth it?”
“Are you saying you don’t want this anymore?”
Big Ben played again, and Jonah’s eyes darted to the open bathroom door. “What would happen if I didn’t? Who would you choose?”
Jonah held out his hands, one extended for her to take, the other home to the pregnancy stick.
This wasn’t fair, and he knew it. She grabbed the pregnancy stick, and her heart sank.
Jonah was already out the door, lobbing a “You’re replacing my ‘Bottle of the Year.’”