All the Difference (14 page)

“I'm talking about how we're hanging out, just like any other time, but now there's this elephant in the room.”

“Nah, you're not that big yet.”

“JENNY.”

“Fine,” Jenny said. “You mean the elephant that's in your belly? Or the fact that there's no elephant in mine?”

“Both.” Molly gauged her friend's reaction. “I can't hide it,
Jenny, but I sort of wish I could sometimes. Only because I want you to be happy, and I want me to be happy, and I don't want to hurt you every time we get together just because
this
”—she gestured over her stomach—“is happening.”

Jenny blew out a gust of air between her lips. “And I don't want you to not be excited just because of my own issues. It's fine. It's going to be great. I'm happy for you, Molly. I'm so excited for you, I swear.” She shrugged. “Just don't mind me if I get a little misty-eyed sometimes when I see how cute that little baby bump of yours is. I think I'm more of a mess than I'd like to believe. Shocking, I know.”

Jenny cleared her throat. When she spoke again, her tone was brighter. “So, tell me. What's going on with you guys? Still no wedding date, I know. But I hear the second trimester is supposed to be the sweet spot of a pregnancy.”

Molly shook her head. Her best friend already knew about the changes in Scott the last few months: how he'd backpedaled on the baby's name, his recent push for her to stay at home once the baby was born. She'd skipped the part, though, about the pit in her stomach that appeared whenever they talked about these things. She hadn't mentioned, either, that when she was with his family she felt like a commoner who'd been lucky enough to meet the prince—a commoner who was learning that she might have to turn her back on her old life in order to step up to the pedestal required of her in the new one.

“Why doesn't Scott quit his?” Jenny was asking. “You actually
go
to your job.”

Molly made her voice deep and guttural. “Because he's a
man
, that's why. And
men
don't quit their jobs just to change poopy diapers.”

“Damn, Molly.” Jenny let out a low whistle. “Who knew Mr. New Money could be so old-fashioned? He knows you love your job, right?”

“I thought so.”

“And he knows that your job is paying for that house right now, too?”

“Yup. Pretty sure.”

“And he knows that if you give up the work that you love that pays for your life you're going to be absolutely miserable, yes? I know how you are when you're out of a routine. It ain't pretty.”

“Downright ugly, if you ask me.” Molly laughed. “I know. He came out of the blue with it last week. It's just not something that's on my radar.”

“Well, yeah, especially when Scott's got the easiest job in the world. How many times have we stopped by your house after work and he's already sitting around in his underwear?”

“Yeah, I'm sorry about that.”

Jenny giggled. “It's okay. Scott may be clueless, but at least he looks good half-naked. You ready to eat?” She looked at Molly's belly again, this time with a smile. “Eh, who am I kidding? Of course you're ready to eat.”

Molly placed the cash for the drinks on the bar and pushed it toward the bartender before Jenny could protest. The two women rose from their seats. Molly winced as she placed her body weight on her swollen feet.

As they walked toward the hostess station, Jenny slowed down. The bar area had become crowded since their arrival, and she raised her voice so Molly could hear her over the din.

“So, how did you leave it with Scott?” she asked. “About the job thing?”

Molly shrugged her shoulders. “We're still arguing. But he did a pretty good job Friday morning of making me feel claustrophobic.”

Jenny stopped in front of the hostess stand and turned to her. Molly blushed as her friend's eyes moved over her face.

“Claustrophobic?”

“Boxed in,” Molly admitted. “Like I have nowhere to go. He seems adamant about me staying at home, and I feel like I'm going to have to give in in order for us to be okay. I don't know. I just feel like no matter which way I turn, I'm going to feel guilty about something.”

She stood in place, quiet.

“That's not good, Molly,” Jenny said. “You shouldn't have to feel that way, especially not now. Think about how happy you used to be when you were around Liam.”

“That was a long time ago, Jenny.”

“But the idea of getting married and having a baby should make you feel like you're grabbing hold of the world,” Jenny said, “not like the world's got you by the nose.”

The restaurant around the bar buzzed with a low noise, and soft music was playing overhead. Jenny threw her arm around Molly's shoulder, drawing her in for a sideways hug. To their left, a group of people broke out into loud chatter, laughing suddenly at someone's joke. Jenny dropped her arm back to her side and laughed herself.

“Well, we're a pair tonight, aren't we? Come on, this is ridiculous. Let's go get some pad Thai and gossip like we're supposed to. I've had enough of this depressing grown-up talk.”

Molly was voicing her agreement when she heard her phone
beep. She fished it out of her green faux–alligator skin bag. “Oh, speak of the devil. There's a text from Scott.”

She clicked open the message to read it, then reached out for Jenny's arm. “Um, Jenny. Scott says there's a voice mail from Bill on the home phone.”

The noise of the restaurant seemed to have gotten louder, climbing to a pitch that seemed almost feverish in its intensity.

“I must have just missed his call,” she said.

“What do you think that means?”

Molly started to sweat in the sudden heat of the room. “You know what I was just saying about Scott wanting me to quit my job?”

She looked at her friend.

“I think Shulzster & Grace may have beat him to it.”

May

No

M
olly sat with her back to the desk in her office, staring out at some seagulls circling above the bronze hat on the statue of William Penn outside. The sun was beginning to set on a brilliant, cloudless day, and she could see from the dense river of headlights on Broad Street that the traffic heading home had gotten thicker. She wiped a smudge of dirt off the window with a clean tissue and made a mental note to bring glass cleaner with her the next day.

A tumbling feeling was rolling against the inside of her torso wall like the pulsating motion of a massage chair. The baby had only recently started moving around in her belly, and Molly placed a hand over it now to feel the
thump-thump-thump
the baby made as he or she somersaulted around. Someone had told her once that early in pregnancy, the baby's movements would feel like a goldfish bumping against a fishbowl inside her, and Molly now knew the description was spot-on. It was odd to witness, to actually be able to
feel
, this person growing inside of her, feeding off of her, getting stronger.

If only her baby could pipe up with a little advice, she thought. She could use it.

Molly gave her belly a pat and looked back over the city. The crimson taillights of the cars looked like blood flowing through an artery. She couldn't imagine living anywhere but in this vibrant, busy place. Molly's phone buzzed on her desk, and she picked it up to hear Jenny's voice on the other end.

“Hey, Jenny. I was just wondering: will you still be friends with me if you have to come out to West Chester to visit me and the baby?”

“Nope.” Jenny didn't miss a beat. “Not a chance. I'm not going out to the suburbs for you, woman, even if that baby's the cutest thing I've seen since the Philly Phanatic.”

“Wait, what do you mean
if
the baby's cute?” Molly was smiling.

“Kidding. I'm kidding.” Jenny's laughter sounded carefree. “Of course your baby's going to be adorable. You may have gotten knocked up, but at least the guy who did the knocking was hot.” Her laughter quieted, and when Jenny spoke again, her voice was serious. “You still haven't decided what to do?”

Molly stared out the window. She saw the first hint of a moon peek out from behind the One Liberty Place tower. She loved when the moon was in the sky while it was still brilliant with sunlight. It felt like the universe was trying its damnedest to keep the world from slipping into darkness. Molly had sympathy for its stubbornness.

“Yeah, I'm thinking about it.” She sighed. “It makes sense on a lot of levels. I'd have free, good child care. I'd be spending less money on groceries. Wouldn't have to worry about cooking most meals.”

She toyed with a pen on her desk before sliding it into a drawer.

“And I'd have people around to talk me off the ledge when it
all gets overwhelming—because you know it will. My parents are really nice to even offer.”

There was a pause on the other end of the line. “But?”

“But it would mean actually moving back home. And I'd lose hours at work because I'd be spending so much time on a train. And Jenny, I can't sublet my house. Could you imagine me as a landlord?”

“Uh, no, I can't.” Jenny whistled. “Not as nicely as you keep that place. You'd be stopping by every week just to make sure they're cleaning behind the toilet.”

“They better, man. I just replaced that toilet.” Molly smiled for a moment when she heard Jenny snort, but the familiar waves of confusion soon came crashing back. She told Jenny about her research into day care costs, and how placement in any of the centers downtown would cost more than her rent payment each month.

“So it looks like Molly Sullivan could be hanging up her Mary Tyler Moore hat.”

“Yep.” Molly had been patting and stacking the same pile of files on her desk for the length of the conversation. She stopped now and lined them up at the edge of her desk. “I could be.”

“I understand,” Jenny said. “You don't want to have to start turning tricks on Columbus Boulevard just to make rent.”

“Yeah, I don't think the Children and Youth Division would be too happy with me carrying a diaper bag stuffed with G-strings.”

Jenny chuckled. “Would your parents watch the baby full-time, then?”

“Yup. You know my mom is having a hard time slowing down after her retirement. And Pop's cut back on his hours so much at the hardware store that he basically just shows up once a week to make an appearance. They'd be thrilled, you know, if I did it. And you can't beat the price.”

“It's just . . .” Jenny started to say.

“. . . they're getting older, and it might be hard for them to manage once this baby's running around,” Molly finished Jenny's sentence. “And I'd be living at home. In my old bedroom, in that twin bed with the lumpy mattress, surrounded by my Patti Smith and Alanis Morissette posters—only this time there'd be a bassinet in there, too. And you know how it is when you're with your parents for a while. It's like you go from a self-assured independent woman to that bratty teenage girl with braces within two minutes of entering the house.”

Molly blew out a long breath. She could hear Jenny close a door, and the sound of a stereo got quieter.

“I know exactly what you mean,” Jenny said. “Molly, how did we end up here? Last time I checked, we were complaining about boot-cut jeans and figuring out where to go on Friday night.” She laughed, and the sound echoed like Jenny's old, deep laugh, not the forced chuckle Molly had been hearing from her lately. “And now I'm stuck in skinny jeans, systematically dismantling my own life, and you're about to pop out a kid and you don't even know where to put the crib.”

“Pretty much,” Molly said. “But wait a minute: you're laughing. This isn't about my homeless baby. You're talking things through with Dan, aren't you?!”

Molly heard the cheer in her own voice travel through the air. She didn't realize how much she needed something to start working out until she heard the lilt in Jenny's tone. And there was nothing like good news in a friend's life to make the sun shine a little bit brighter in your own. Especially if that friend was Jenny.

“Yes, Miss Marriage Counselor, Dan and I are talking.”

“And?” Molly pressed.

“And that's it. Right now, anyway,” Jenny said. “I'm trying very hard to separate our—my—issues from my parents', okay? But theirs was the most dysfunctional marriage to exist outside of Tom Cruise and Katie Holmes', and it got into my head. I still can't totally trust him. It's not all sunshine and rainbows yet, but I'm trying.”

“Oh, Jenny.” Molly tried to keep her voice level. She saw the moon go behind a cloud and grimaced.

“Hey, lady, I told you I'm a royal mess right now. You ever see a bag of salad mix that's been left in the fridge for too long? The leaves just melt into a jumbled mess of brown rot, right?”

Molly nodded, because she had seen it happen in someone else's house once.

“That's what my head feels like.”

“But why?” Molly asked.

The phone was quiet for a moment. “Because I think you're not the only one who needs things to be just so.”

Molly felt her eyes grow wide.

“Look,” Jenny said. “Dan and I have been together since high school. Everything just fell into place for us: college, and our wedding, and getting our jobs. It was all so easy. I felt like we were just . . .
fated
to be together.”

“Okay,” Molly said. “And now you're not?” She felt confused. Jenny and Dan's relationship
had
been easy, which is why everyone they knew admitted jealousy of them at one time or another.

“When I couldn't get pregnant, I felt like one of the walls of our little world sort of crumbled. And then when I lost my job, another one came down. It feels like if one thing isn't right, none of it can be good,” Jenny said. Her voice was bright. “Let's just say that instead of waiting for the other shoe to drop, I was proactive and dragged it down myself.”

Molly patted her hand over her hair, thinking.

“It'll be fine,” Jenny said. “Or not, I don't know. But at the very least it gave me the chance to watch so much of the Game Show Network I can now list every single French king that lived in the seventeen hundreds.”

Molly smiled, and Jenny let loose with her old laugh again.

“But back to you. You're the one with the baby.”

“Yeah, no getting around it, huh? Well, I still have a few more months of living the high life before I really have to decide—”

“Ha!” Jenny exclaimed. “That's you, Molly Sullivan. So laid-back, so casual. Easy, breezy . . .”

“Yeah, yeah, I get it. But I need some more time to figure out what I should do.” Molly took a deep breath, looking over the traffic slowly making its way out of the city.

“All right, enough of this lighthearted chitchat,” she said, and stood up from her chair. “I have about fifteen minutes to stuff a sandwich in my face and get pretty for this Stevens event tonight.”

“Whoa, that's a big one, too,” Jenny said. “Okay, then. I'll talk to you. And hey, it'll work out, you know. Your decision about moving home, I mean. And of course I'd visit you in West Chester, especially if the baby gets your personality.”

There was a brief pause.

“Well, only if the baby has your personality,” Jenny said. “Because seriously, if it ends up with Scott's, you're on your own out there.”

“You're funny, Jenny.”

“Hey, looks aren't everything. Honestly, though, Mol,” Jenny said, “I'll keep you in my prayers.”

“Prayers?” Molly leaned her head back to stare at the phone. “When did you start talking about praying? I don't think you've been to church since your wedding.”

“I need all the help I can get, Mol,” Jenny said. “I'm not doing such a good job of this on my own.”

Molly bit her lip as she hung up the phone. The windows in most of the buildings across the alley from hers were dark now, and Molly heard the vacuums of the cleaning crew outside her office door. She watched the moon emerge from behind the cloud, bright and shining over the city below. The sky had turned into a painting of pastel brushstrokes, streaks of purple and pink flung across the horizon. The sun sank lower behind the skyline, and Molly wished it'd stay put just a moment longer. She didn't want dusk to fall, didn't want the moon to pass behind the clouds. She didn't like nighttime, or the darkness that came with it. At least in the light you can see what's coming next.

Thirty minutes later, Molly walked onto the deck of the Moshulu and surveyed the people milling around the hors d'oeuvres stations. The restaurant was a massive, four-mast sailing ship built in the eighteenth century. It had been converted into one of the most recognizable special occasion restaurants in the city, but Molly had been second-guessing her usually trusty instincts since she'd booked it. The Moshulu was anchored on the river next to Columbus Boulevard, a busy thoroughfare lined with strobe-lit clubs and open-air bars that pulsated at night with cover bands and loud drunks. Her taxi driver had had to dodge the partiers making their ways to bad decisions and sure hangovers on their way to Penn's Landing on this warm Thursday night, and Molly worried now that the venue she'd chosen might be too cliché, too expected for a PR event.

Thankfully though, one glance at the conservative crowd moving among linen-draped cocktail tables in their best tweed
and Hermès scarves told her that her intuition had been spot-on once again. She felt the muscles in her neck loosen, drew her mouth into a serene smile, and stepped into the crowd.

Molly was wearing one of the maternity wrap dresses she kept in small rotation in her closet. This was one she'd found at an incredible discount online, and it was her favorite: black with a print of huge red poppies splashed all over it. It had a deep neckline, so she wore a camisole underneath to keep her embarrassing amount of new cleavage contained. Molly tugged at the inadequate piece of fabric. The long day had caught up with her, and as she moved through the crowd, greeting individuals she knew, Molly felt waterlogged—swollen and shifting, like someone had forced a swimming ring around her torso and refused to remove it. Molly got on line at the bar and chuckled to herself. If the floating Moshulu happened to sink into the Delaware River that night, at least the partygoers could use her as a life preserver.