Chapter 24
Julia
Ian texts me pictures of the new babies.
Pictures of them swaddled in their little hospital bassinets.
Pictures of a tired-looking Meg and ecstatic Conall holding them.
Pictures of himself with their little bodies resting on his chest as he reclines in a hospital chair.
My uterus twinges, like the three pups inside me know that very soon, they’ll be in the same arms.
“Yep, that’s your dad,” I tell them as I zoom in on their cousins.
They are smaller than typical human infants, although maybe not smaller than typical human multiples.
Two are brown and two are redheads. They have short snouts, tiny ears, and closed eyes, just like puppies of other species.
The parts of wulvers that look human, the neck-down stuff, is all hidden by their blankets except one tiny, pink, smoochable hand. I wish I could hold them, too.
It makes me wonder what our babies will look like. Will they look like typical wulvers, or will they have more visible human attributes? Will their wulver family accept them even if they look different than these adorable little pups?
“They’re beautiful,” I text back. “Congrats to the new parents (and the new uncle)!”
“Thanks,” he sends back a few long minutes later. “I’m so sorry that I can’t meet you at the clinic today. I’ll make it up to you.”
“Don’t worry about it.”
It’s not a big deal. I always did my prenatal appointments with the girls by myself.
But there is a wistful little disappointment threading through me.
What’s that about? It’s not like the appointment hinges on his participation.
I’m the patient, and I can send him any details Dr. MacDougal and I uncover.
In fact, the appointment goes well. Everything is normal.
I’m happy to report to her that the nausea has already passed, and now I’m just hungry and tired.
She jokingly writes me a prescription for naps and then offers some eating tips, and I stop by the grocery store on the way home to stock up on the beef and salmon she recommended.
And when I get home, there’s a beautiful vase of sunflowers on the porch, the florist’s tiny envelope on one of those plastic forks sticking out of it. My heartrate picks up as I carry it inside, anticipating what might be written on the card.
Before I can open it, I get a text from Heidi: “I know those aren’t from Richard.”
“Are you spying on me?” I type back.
“No. Nic is. Tell us what the card says.”
I laugh out loud and open the envelope. Inside, in nice cursive handwriting, it says, “IOU one prenatal nutrition treatment. Redeemable any time. Love, Ian.”
I am not dwelling on the end of the message.
Definitely not thinking about the L-word and all its meanings.
It’s just a normal closer, like “sincerely.” He’s not confessing anything.
In fact, the florist probably wrote the message.
Maybe they added it. I leave it out when I relay the note in text message to Heidi (and Nicole who is surely reading over her shoulder).
But instead of replying like a normal person, ninety seconds later there’s a knock at my door. And before I can haul myself to open it, they’re both inside, shucking their shoes.
“What’s a prenatal nutrition treatment? Does that mean a BJ?” Nicole asks as they enter the living room, where I’ve found a home for the flowers on the coffee table.
I snort in surprise at the question. “What?! No! Why would I—what are you talking about?”
“I thought it might be some straight-people euphemism for like, a dose of extra protein from his ding-a-ling.” She shrugs.
Heidi is laughing so hard that she’s bent in half over the back of the couch. She raises her head from the cushions. “Why would he owe her a BJ? That makes no sense. He means eating her out. That’s the nutrition treatment.”
I cough. I gasp and wheeze. I laugh until tears are streaming down my face and my friends are both staring at me, looking concerned. When I can finally tamp down the giggles, I say, “You guys. It is not a sex thing. He just means lunch.”
“Ohhhhh,” Nicole says, nodding sagely. “A date.”
“Not a date. It’s for the babies. Speaking of which, I need to put away the groceries.”
Heidi tails me into the kitchen like a bloodhound on a scent. “Babies? Like more than one?”
“I didn’t tell you?” I shove the meat into the fridge so I don’t have to look at her. I know I didn’t tell her. I am not ready to process it myself.
“No, you didn’t tell me, and frankly, I’m a little peeved. This seems like big news. The kind you text your best friend right away.”
I shut the fridge and turn around, back against the cold stainless steel. “Three,” I croak.
“Holy shit. NICOLE!” she bellows. “Get in here! Julia’s having triplets!”
Nicole skids into the kitchen, her socks sliding on the tile. She stares at my stomach. “No way.”
I nod miserably and burst into tears. They instantly move to either side of me, wrapping me in a group hug.
“What am I doing to do?” I wail. “I’m not going to be able to see my feet!”
“It’ll be okay,” Nic says, stroking my hair. “If you get too fat, we’ll cut your toenails.”
“And whatever else you need,” Heidi assures me. “We got this. And I bet Ian will help you out, too, if you call on him. He seems like a good guy.”
“He’s too good,” I sniffle into her shoulder.
“I can’t be around him because it makes me realize how shitty Richard treats me sometimes.
It makes me wish I’d met him before I got m-m-married, but then I feel awful because then I wouldn’t have had the girls.
It makes me feel like a bad mom, wishing for things to be different. ”
I can feel Nicole and Heidi freeze, some unspoken exchange going on above my head.
“Just say whatever you’re thinking,” I say miserably, drawing back to dry my eyes with a paper towel. “Whatever it is, I’m sure it’s true.”
“Well,” Heidi begins hesitantly. “You know how we feel about Richard. About how he treats you. We’re not saying you should trade in one husband for another. But if this pregnancy makes you realize that your marriage isn’t working for you, you can do something about that.”
“You mean leave him?” My blood pressure goes up just saying the words. Because of that stupid prenup, I’d lose everything. House, car, bank account, custody. Although the girls are adults now, so I could see them…if they were still speaking with me after I broke up their family.
“He gave you an STI!” Nicole explodes.
“Nic!” Heidi says warningly.
“That was years ago,” I murmur, trying to calm my racing heart. “We worked through it.”
As in, I got treatment and stopped having sex with him, and he didn’t care because he was still getting it somewhere else. Now that I think about it, that wasn’t really a solution, even though it kept us afloat. It was just a patch on a very leaky boat.
“Heidi, can I talk to you for a second?” Nicole sounds strained. Heidi nods, and they retreat to the pantry a few yards away. Even though they close the door, I can hear them perfectly.
“Don’t lose your shit,” Heidi tells her.
“How am I supposed to keep my mouth shut when she’s like this?” Nicole hisses. “She is still defending him!”
“You have to give her credit for trying to make it work. Marriage is hard.”
“Ours isn’t.”
“We’re the exception. Plus, we’ve had our bumps in the road. They just weren’t as big.”
Nicole snorts. “Arguing over what color to paint the kitchen cabinets is not a bump.”
Heidi sighs heavily. “Just…try to be compassionate.”
“I am compassionate. To her. Just not to that prick.”
The lump in my throat feels like it’s going to choke me. Oddly, it reminds me that I’m hungry. Starving, now that I think about it. I turn on the oven to preheat.
“When you guys are done talking about me, can you bring me the potatoes in there? The Yukon golds,” I call through the pantry door, getting the fish out of the fridge again. When they emerge, looking a little sheepish, with the bag of potatoes, I ask, “Want to stay for dinner?”
They stay. Nicole hauls my kimchi containers over from their garage fridge and loads them back into mine while Heidi helps me prep the food. We talk about lighter topics while we eat. It’s fun, but there’s still some tension in the air. They’re being too careful with me, and I can’t stand it.
I finally put down my fork. “I know, okay? I know that it’s not good.
My marriage to Richard is basically only on paper, and we’re way past resuscitating it with counseling or anything like that.
That has become glaringly apparent since Molly left for college.
I’m trying to figure my shit out. The next steps.
How to support myself. Where I’m going to live.
How to break it to the girls. What is out there for me.
It’s just hard to see the future. I thought it was going to look a certain way, and it’s going to be different, and that’s really hard to accept. ”
My voice cracks, and I stop. It’s the first time I’ve voiced any of this, even to my closest friends, who are both looking at me with big, sad eyes.
“Don’t do that, or I’ll cry again,” I warn.
Heidi switches to a wan smile. “We just want you to be happy. I know I’ve said this before, but we have a pull-out in the den. You can come live with us for as long as you want, if you need to.”
“Roomies!” Nicole says. She sounds so gleeful that I crack a smile. “Seriously, Jules. The house is so quiet without Matthew at home. We wouldn’t mind the company.”
“Thank you. I mean it. I’m okay for now.
I am focused on having a healthy pregnancy, and it’s making me happy to give someone the gift of parenthood.
Richard and I mostly stay out of each other’s way.
Nothing has to change right away. I just wanted you to know that I know.
I’m working on it. And I’m sorry if it makes you frustrated or worried about me.
You don’t have to be. It’s my problem to fix. ”
“Okay. We’re here for you, though.”
“You can tell us everything.” Nicole wiggles her eyebrows. “Like whether you spit or swallow that nutritional treatment.”
Heidi howls.
“I told you, it’s not a BJ!” I say between giggles.
“If you say so,” she teases.
Honestly, a date with Ian is probably more dangerous than a blow job. Having his attention is addictive after so many years of being starved of my husband’s.
I honestly feel so bad for dragging Ian into this mess.
It’s not his responsibility to fix any of it, and I’m trying to do right by him by keeping him at arm’s length, but that little word on the card is throbbing in the back of my mind as we wash up from dinner and I say goodbye to my best friends.
As I shower and brush my teeth. As I lie in bed, trying to drift off to sleep.
Love, Ian.
Can he mean it after only a month of knowing me?