Chapter 13 The Last Grown-Up #2
She shook her head and picked up laundry from the floor.
School clothes, leotards, balled-up tights.
Lily’s rug was sea green, Sophie’s fluffy white.
She’d asked for white like Maxy’s fur, and that was what she got.
Her rug was furry, and it shed. Legos used to disappear.
What was that, caught in the white shag?
An earbud right at the foot of Sophie’s bed.
And there was the other. Debra almost called to say, I found them!
Right after the new ones were delivered! But she resisted.
They’d be at the gelato place by now. Finishing up. Driving back to Richard’s condo. Debra watched her phone, but nobody called.
How was the gelato? she texted at last.
Good, Lily texted back.
—
When the girls returned, nothing had changed. Richard and Heather were not engaged. Debra had been fast-forwarding again.
“Have you ever had Cherry Amaretto?” Sophie asked.
“Is that what you got?”
“We tried Heather’s.”
Debra tried to picture Heather with a fruit flavor. Heather seemed more Cookies and Cream.
“It was weird,” Lily said.
But nothing else seemed strange to them.
In fact, they were lighter, happier than when they had left.
Trust Heather—a trail runner and a hiker—to leave kids better than she found them.
The girls hugged Max, went up to their rooms, and did their homework.
Even Lily, who worried at night, did not seem sad, and curled up in bed with a book about girls learning to be witches or possibly princesses at boarding school.
Life was good, and it was ordinary. It was school and ballet and groceries and dinner and pre-algebra and world history, and the next weekend Debra had the girls, and she made waffles. All was calm until the following Thursday.
Richard came in and played with Max while the girls were dragging their bags downstairs and he said in a low voice, “Debra, I have to tell you something.”
That was a bad sign. “Go out to the car,” Debra called to the girls as Richard started pacing. He forgot Max completely. “What is it?” Debra asked.
“Well—” he began.
“Is it Heather?”
“Yes.”
She froze. Were he and Heather breaking up? Now? Now that the girls were used to her? Had he screwed up this relationship already? “You didn’t.”
“Didn’t what?” he shot back.
“Richard. What’s going on?”
He hesitated for just a second and then said, “We’re expecting.”
“Wait, what?” The words didn’t even register at first.
“We’re expecting a baby in January.”
“But I thought you were— You aren’t even— Aren’t you getting engaged?”
“We’re planning to.”
“And when are you going to tell the girls? And when will you get married?”
“I wanted to ask you about telling them. I mean, it’s good news.”
She was calculating quickly. How long had they been expecting? Were they really…? Yes. They’d been pregnant at Lily’s Bat Mitzvah and they hadn’t told her. “You could have said something.”
“I know but you were already—”
“But you—”
“It would have been too much.”
She nodded. It was too much now. Inside she heard the words Selfish! Unfair! But no. That wasn’t true. They weren’t selfish to live their lives. She swallowed. “It’s a lot of good news at once.”
“Exactly.”
“Congratulations.”
“Thank you.”
“I’m just—”
“We didn’t want to wait too long.”
“But you did wait,” she burst out, because he’d waited all this time to tell her.
“I meant wait to get pregnant.”
“Oh.”
“Lissa…”
“Who?”
“Heather’s sister is having a terrible time. IVF and everything.”
Debra stood there bewildered, because why were they talking about Heather’s sister’s infertility? “When are you getting married?”
“After the baby.”
“Okay,” she said slowly. She had foreseen engagement, then marriage, not an instant family.
He said, “Are you worried it will be weird for the girls?”
“Well, yeah.”
“Because you think it’s wrong to have a baby first?”
“No!” She wasn’t going to be the bad guy, the moralistic one, the evil fairy at the christening!
She realized something now. The king’s first wife—that’s who the evil fairy would have been.
But that wasn’t Debra. Not at all. She just needed a minute.
She had never imagined Heather in a rush, or Richard so nervous and so glad, and she felt a pang, hearing his good fortune.
Once upon a time Debra had wanted a third child, but Richard had objected, and she had listened. “It’s just a lot to…”
“That’s why we want to talk to them.”
The front door opened. “Dad,” Sophie said.
Lily called from the open car, “You’re taking forever.”
He called back, “One second.”
“Let’s figure out a plan,” Debra told Richard.
“Great!” He took the cheerful tone they both used when the kids were near.
Debra said, “Team meeting.”
—
The three of them met at the Abandoned Luncheonette. Richard sipped kombucha and Debra had black coffee. Heather had nothing.
“Why don’t you try the water?” Debra suggested.
Heather smiled. She appreciated Debra’s sense of humor. Of course she did, because she was perfect—even if she looked a little pale.
“How are you feeling?” Debra asked.
“Eh,” Heather said, and Richard took her hand.
“She’s a trouper.” Richard could have been talking about Lily, but Heather didn’t seem offended.
Debra asked, “Are you going to find out whether it’s a boy or a girl?”
They spoke at the same time. “I think so,” Richard said.
“I’m not sure,” said Heather.
“Well, either way,” said Richard.
Debra interjected, “But you’re going to tell the girls that you’re expecting.”
“Of course!” said Heather.
Richard said, “We have to.”
“Here’s the thing,” Debra told them, and now she saw Richard getting tense. He hated hearing a thing. “I think you should get engaged first and then let a little time pass before telling them about the…I think it’s important for them to know—”
“That we’re all in this together,” Heather said.
“Exactly.”
“That this is forever,” Heather said.
Debra said, “Right.”
As for Richard, he said nothing. He would do what Heather wanted.
He, who had insisted he could not handle a third child.
This was different. Debra understood that.
This wouldn’t be a third child born into their old family with their old wars.
He and Heather were a new beginning. This was the way of things, that women had their babies and they stopped, while men lived like starfish, constantly regenerating.
“I love the girls so much,” Heather was saying. “I want to include them when we get engaged.”
I got that part right, Debra thought.
Heather said, “I want to dedicate myself to them.”
You’re great, Debra thought. You really are. And at the same time—you have no idea. Parenting times three. The sleepless nights ahead, the tantrums and book reports and standardized tests and the million ways kids in middle school are mean.
Heather said, “We’ll write a family proposal.”
“Thank you,” Debra said, and meant it. “I think that will be wonderful,” she told Heather, because why scare her? And the new baby would be beautiful. She envied Heather that, although she was grateful for the daughters that she had.
“I’m glad we did this!” Heather said when they were walking to the cars. Richard hugged his future fiancée’s shoulders. He kissed her ear.
And Debra didn’t feel alone at all. She did not mind watching the two of them. She just felt like the last grown-up on earth as she called after them, “I’m glad we’re all on the same page.”
—
The next weekend, she was forewarned and forearmed.
She had in her possession a folder with the proposal.
Heather had sent it, so Debra was like the press corps with the full text of the speech the president was about to give.
And better than the press, she had printed two copies on archival paper.
Even as her daughters were off listening to Richard and Heather pledge their troth, Debra was sitting at the kitchen table framing the documents, so that each girl would have a copy in her room.
Family Proposal
We propose to be there for each other every day.
To respect differences and appreciate each person for who they are.
To make sure everyone in our family is seen and heard.
To honor each other’s feelings.
To be on one team.
Debra’s phone was ringing. It was Lily and she was on speaker. Debra could hear Sophie and Heather and Richard in the background as Lily shouted, “We’re engaged!”
“Mazel tov!”
“And we’re expecting!” Sophie added.
“Oh wow,” Debra said automatically. So much for letting a little time pass. “That’s so great.”
“Mom!” Sophie said. “You already knew, didn’t you?”
“I can neither confirm nor deny,” Debra said, and she heard Heather saying, Ha! “This is so great,” Debra repeated. “This is really, really wonderful.” She said it, but her body ached. Her arms, her legs, her heart.
“It’s going to be a girl,” Lily said.
Debra said, “They told you?”
“Lily just wants it to be a girl.” That was Sophie’s older sister voice.
The phone was ringing over there at Richard’s place. Debra could hear it in the background. “Sorry, it’s my parents,” Heather said. “Mom? Hi!”
“We should talk to them,” Richard said.
“And we need to make dinner,” Heather reminded him.
Crashing sounds and laughter. Heather’s voice, “Yes! We’re here with the girls. We all proposed to each other!”
“Okay I have to go,” Lily told Debra after a minute. “Love you!”
Everyone was happy. Everyone was young. As for Debra, she was relieved.
She was actually glad that Richard and Heather had shared all their news at once.
She almost wished that they’d revealed the gender too, and named the baby, and that their perfect child was in school, and Richard was showing just how involved he could be the second time around.
I have so much more patience now, he would say, as older parents always did.
I am so much calmer. Debra wished it had all happened already, so she didn’t have to watch.
—
In twilight, she got the leash and took Max for a walk. The earth was damp and the grass tender. The neighbor kids were biking up and down the street, looping in parabolas. She stood watching, as she called her sister.
“Hey,” she said.
Immediately Becca said, “The deed is done?”
“Yup.”
“And how was it?”
“It was great. It was beautiful.”
“Were you there? You sound like you were there.”
“No! I wasn’t there. I heard from the girls. And they also know about the baby.”
“I thought Richard was waiting to tell them.”
“Apparently not.”
“I thought you had that big meeting.”
“We did, and Richard sat there agreeing to everything.”
There was a pause and then Becca said, “He’s just bad.”
“He isn’t bad,” Debra said numbly.
“Yes, he is!”
“He’s inconsiderate,” said Debra. “That doesn’t make him bad.”
“Whatever,” Becca said. “You can call it what you want. He blindsided you!”
“No, Max!” Debra called. He was barking, straining at his leash, excited by a beagle. “He’s getting violent,” Debra told Becca. “I have to go.”
“Max isn’t violent.”
“He has a thing about little dogs.” Debra was maligning her own sweet Max just to get off the phone.
“Hey, Debra. It’s okay to be angry,” said Becca, who taught creative movement. “You can scream! You can dance it out.”
Debra pulled Max across the street. “Yeah, I don’t think I’m in that kind of shape right now.”
“No, anyone can do this! Listen. It takes two seconds. Plant your feet.”
Debra planted her feet on the sidewalk as Max looked quizzically at her.
“Breathe in and tighten your whole body. Make fists.”
“Uh-huh.”
“Then open your hands. Release your breath. Let go.”
Debra opened her left hand because she was still holding the leash in her right. She exhaled. Then she said, “Let what go?”
“The whole thing.”
“Oh.”
“I can show you some other ones,” Becca said. “That’s just a mini ritual. Anyone can practice that at whatever level. Just try it whenever you feel the need.”
“Thanks,” Debra said. “Will do.”
She took Max home and let him run around the yard while she sat on the girls’ old swing. He was looking for his ball. Several times he ran up as if to ask, Where did it go?
Max sniffed her knees. He wanted her to hunt, but she said, “I can’t, Max.
Sometimes you have to rest. You know?” His ears pricked up; he could detect even a hint of sadness.
“It’s okay. It will be okay. I promise,” she told him.
“You keep looking, and if you still can’t find your ball, I’ll buy a new one.
And then as soon as I buy a new one, the old one will turn up.
” Max buried his head in her lap as she said, “I don’t know why it happens.
It’s funny, right? But that’s just how it goes. ”