Chapter 7 Victoria #2
“Should we grab a coffee? Not for you, though,” the blonde said to Liz, picking up the gift bag and depositing it in Liz’s hands.
Liz murmured thanks and started following her friends out of the store. As she passed Victoria, she shot her a shy smile, which Victoria returned. Victoria felt the impulse to run after this complete stranger. Wait! Come back. Let’s know each other. We can be each other’s port in the storm.
But that would be crazy, and before Victoria could telegraph anything more substantive via facial expression, the door closed behind the women with a tinkle of bells.
The moment was over. Victoria stepped forward to the woman manning the register, who wore a name tag labeled Maureen.
She inspected Victoria without comment, a stern librarian life-swapped into a world of frilly onesies and animal rattles.
“Hi, I have an eleven o’clock appointment. Victoria Miller.”
Maureen turned and beckoned to a perky sales assistant, who skipped over and planted herself by Victoria’s side.
Caitlin with a C said she was thrilled to guide Victoria through the registry process.
Caitlin held up her iPad and explained that they’d go through the store together, and when Victoria saw something she liked, it was as easy as a click and add.
Since Victoria was more sure of what she didn’t like than what she did, she asked Caitlin if they could start with the necessities.
Victoria’s head swam as Caitlin spouted words and terms at an alacritous clip and they began blending together into an indistinguishable soup, until it started to sound like a peppy sort of prayer.
Liki—Doona—sensory—swaddle—Willow—bassinet—Brezza—Everlywell—booster—Babyzen—teether—Pipa—Tripp Trapp—carrier—Bestaroo—Inglesina—Bjorn—microplastics—Skip Hop—WAYB—Bugaboo…
Victoria thought the phrase It’s Greek to me was overused, but in this case, it was fitting.
Victoria was more proficient with actual Greek, or at least able to order moussaka and kolokithokeftedes and dolmadakia and frappés at a seaside mom-and-pop joint in Crete, like she and Ace had done last summer.
She let herself drift off in memories of sapphire and cobalt water that turned teal at the shoreline, of lazy afternoons sipping rosé and snacking on tzatziki and pita triangles at beach clubs, of balmy summer nights spent naked underneath the sheets, salt from the ocean water still on their skin, and then their tongues.
The sound of a gentle throat clear snapped Victoria back to the present.
“Sorry,” Victoria said. “What did you say?”
Caitlin repeated the question, which was about self-soothing and it was apparently a loaded one—what were Victoria’s thoughts on the polarizing pacifier: forbidden or beloved?
I don’t know! Victoria wanted to shout, but she also didn’t want to let down her baby-store docent.
If only Caitlin were to ask her about empirical asset pricing.
Because then, then! Victoria told Caitlin she was undecided and skated by this question.
She thought she might escape Mother’s Haven with no one the wiser as to her glaring insufficiencies, but then Caitlin asked her, “Nanit or Vava?”
What the ever-living fuck? Are those car seats? Parenting methods? Robots?
“I think it will depend on the car?” Victoria guessed.
Caitlin’s face fell like a guillotine. Victoria was tempted to grab a plush lamb from the nearest shelf and tell Caitlin that it was going to be okay.
Instead, she explained that her husband was superstitious and didn’t want to buy anything until their child is born.
Still, Victoria confessed to Caitlin, she recognized how behind she was on preparations.
“Don’t worry,” Caitlin said. “A lot of parents don’t want to jinx it.
” She held up her iPad and assured Victoria that they had tackled the essentials.
Then she added, in a conspiratorial tone, that asking friends to purchase things for you was an authorized loophole, even if you were Jewish and worried about endangering your children’s survival.
Caitlin told Victoria that, in fact, some of her clients bought everything and sent it to a different address, while others stored it all in their garages and didn’t bridge the divide over the threshold until they were released from the hospital.
Victoria smiled gratefully, but her relief didn’t last long because Caitlin’s eyes abruptly darted around the store like she had just shoved a rubber giraffe teether down her pants and was about to suggest they walk out without paying.
Caitlin lowered her voice and asked, “You did sign up for Dawn, though?”
“What?” Victoria asked.
“Who,” Caitlin corrected.
“Who?” Victoria parroted.
“Dawn Hampton,” Caitlin said, pausing to allow for a reaction. “Dawn’s class?” she added, scanning Victoria’s face for recognition. Coming up short, she rushed to inform, “Dawn Hampton is the leading parenting expert in the city.”
Caitlin took Victoria by the arm and led her to the counter to see if they could plead her case with Maureen, who apparently oversaw class registration.
Surrounded by trucks, tiaras, and toy espresso sets, Victoria wondered if there was a place in the mom-wife world for women like her who thought mixers were what you paired with alcohol, who didn’t possess an encyclopedic memory of lullabies or have any interest in making pancakes shaped like bears.
While she waited for Caitlin and Maureen to decide her fate, Victoria noticed that someone had joined the line behind her. She turned slightly to see that it was the woman from before—Liz—but this time she had returned without the gaggle of ballerina-mouse-pushing friends.
“Hi,” Victoria said, wondering if Liz had come back in the hopes that Victoria would still be there.
Then she felt as foolish as a wallflower with a crush.
Was Victoria losing it? Had her first foray into mom world sent her over the edge, imagining, and even worse, yearning for a connection with a total stranger?
“Hi!” Liz said. “Me again. I escaped.”
“Are your friends going to issue an Amber Alert?”
“They’re having twenty-dollar lattes at Erewhon,” Liz said. “They’ll be fine. The dancing rodent is getting returned, and hopefully, they’ll never know.” She held up the gift bag and a pastel rainbow of ribbons fluttered in the air.
“When are you due?” Victoria asked.
“October eighth,” Liz said.
“I’m due October third!”
Liz’s eyes slid down Victoria’s frame. She looked as if she were trying to detect the pregnancy that Victoria alleged. “No way,” Liz said. “We’re due the same week! I’m Liz.”
“Victoria.”
Liz held her hand out to shake Victoria’s, then seemed to think better of the gesture—like it was weird to offer your hand to an adult, pregnant stranger in a baby store—but it was too late.
Her retracting hand hung limply in the air like the claw in one of those arcade games that were rigged to never catch a prize.
Little did she know, Victoria had fought the urge to run after her.
Victoria shook Liz’s hand enthusiastically to put her at ease.
“Nice to meet you,” Liz said.
“You too. Did you also know to sign up for some essential class the second you got pregnant?” Victoria asked.
“Dawn’s class?” Liz said.
“That’s a yes.”
“As soon as I told my friends I was pregnant, they said I had to register for Dawn.” Liz smiled apologetically at Victoria, as if she felt guilty for securing a precious spot.
“Good for you. And I’ll be fine,” Victoria said. “I can always buy the book, right?”
“She did write a book. Hey, Bae Bae.”
Victoria grimaced at the horrendous title. “Let me guess: She has a podcast too?”
“Dawn of a New Mom,” Liz said.
Victoria looked at her, aghast.
“I wish I was joking.”
Caitlin left Maureen’s side and headed Victoria’s way, her shoulders hunched in defeat.
“I tried my best,” Caitlin said, her face awash with concern, as though the ship were going down and Victoria hadn’t procured a seat in a life raft.
“It’s too late to squeeze you into the October babies’ class.
We’re going to have to wait-list you and hope for the best.” Victoria prayed that Caitlin meant a mother might change her mind rather than tragedy creating a vacancy.
“No problem,” Victoria said, not wanting to dwell on it. “Thanks, Caitlin.”
“I’m in that class,” Liz said. “If a spot doesn’t open up, I could fill you in on anything important we talk about? If you want…”
Witnessing Liz’s uncertainty as she extended the offer was like watching a baby deer try to find its footing for the first time.
Not that Victoria was any more adept at talking to strangers, forging connections with other women, or making friends as an adult.
She simply chose not to attempt those things.
“Yes! What a great idea!” Caitlin said, nodding. “Motherhood: It takes a village—and a WhatsApp group!”
Victoria had neither a village nor a text chain; she didn’t even have a guest list of friends to invite to the baby shower that Ellen, Deborah, and Annalise were foisting upon her.
“Why don’t you two exchange numbers?!” Caitlin directed.
She seemed to doubt that Victoria and Liz had ever been asked out on a date the old-fashioned way.
That said, she appeared thrilled with how well they followed instructions (“Now you put her number into your phone and then you call her phone so she has your number and can store it”).
Once the exchange was completed, Caitlin bowed her head and radiated beneficence upon them like she was the pope presiding over an official baptism.
“This is the kind of magic that only happens at Mother’s Haven,” Caitlin pronounced without a trace of irony. Victoria and Liz locked eyes. And as Victoria watched Liz clench her jaw to tamp down her amusement, she thought there was a chance they might actually become friends.