Expecting: A Novel (10 page)

The best solution would be for Megan and Normandie to become best friends—not likely, but possible. They could find something in common (besides Jack), start to hang out, and realize—hey, we can
share
him.

It doesn’t work out that way. Normandie tells Jack he’s a shit and she never wants to see him again. And by the way, she was just about to have sex with him.

Megan figured it out too. “That girl at Falafel King, she gave off this ‘Jack belongs to me’ vibe. Which wouldn’t worry me since she screams
virgin
so I don’t think you’re sleeping with her. But it’s still douchey for you not to tell me about her. I told you about other guys I went out with.”

“I didn’t ask you to,” Jack tells her.

“Doesn’t make a difference. Why don’t we take a vacay from each other?”

Plenty of fish in the sea, Carter says when he hears the story. Carter tells Jack how he dated sisters at the same time and how messed up that got, but Jack stops listening because like most of Carter’s stories, you lose interest after the first five minutes.

***

He decides it’s a sign. He’s meant to buckle down, study, graduate. The world is telling him he’s made things too complicated; he needs to readjust his focus. Women are a distraction. And he doesn’t have time for distractions right now. He’ll finish up his classes, graduate on schedule. (Almost on schedule.)

So what if he doesn’t know what he wants to do with his life yet? Without distractions, he can figure it out. For example, how about religious studies? Not that he’d be a priest; he could be an academic.
Teach
religion. He can explore his Hindu past—he’s always meant to. His parents celebrate a few Hindu holidays, like Diwali. But they also go to the local Presbyterian church.

Unless being a Hindu priest is cool. He wonders how long you have to train for it and does a degree from UCLA help? What would you do exactly? Do you have to shave your head? He’s not sure how good he’d look without hair. Are Hindu priests allowed to drink beer? Would celibacy be an issue? That’s a deal breaker.

He looks into the requirements for a religious studies minor. It’s probably too late to change to a religious studies major. But he’s pleased to discover he’s already taken a lot of the required classes to meet a minor. Buddhism, Western civ, anthropology, plus an intro to religion class he took one summer. He checks out the classes he’d need, and most of them look interesting. Ancient Jewish History, Roots of Patriarchy: Ancient Goddesses and Heroines. He’s a little skeptical (ha-ha) about Skepticism and Reality. And Medieval Literature of Devotion and Dissent could be a killer. Or not. It’s a toss-up between that and Saint and Heretic: Joan of Arc and Gilles de Paris. Who the hell is Gilles de Paris? Is he some male version of Joan of Arc, like a guy kid who had creepy visions and then got to lead an army until he got captured and was burned at the stake? Cool.

And after graduation, graduate school. In religious studies. Because why not?

Unless it’s a stupid idea. That’s what his mother would say. “A South American studies major and a religious studies minor? What do you do with a degree like that? Visit the Incan pyramids? I suppose you could be a
tour
guide
.” (Actually he’d love to learn about the Incan civilization. He should see if there are any classes available.)

He’s riding his bike through a neighborhood near UCLA, looking at houses. What kinds of jobs do people have to afford these big homes? Did they worry about their majors when they were in college? He could ring a doorbell or two, ask. “Excuse me, what was your major in college?”

Why did his sister have to get all the super smart genes?
This
isn’t my fault
, he should say to his parents.
Your
genes
made
me
this
way
.

He could get a doctorate in religious studies. Not be a medical doctor, but still have a PhD. Dr. Jack Mulani sounds
excellent
.

He passes a house with a vaguely Tudor exterior: white plaster walls trimmed with thick wood beams. The kind of house Martin Luther would like? Probably not. Too fancy for Martin Luther.
What
kind
of
guy
was
Martin
Luther?
Jack wonders.
An
arrogant
windbag? Did he have a sense of humor? When he tacked his Ninety-Five Theses to the church door in Wittenberg, did he use a hammer? What kind of nail?
Aha, Jack thinks he’s found his thesis: “The Mechanics of Martin Luther Nailing His Ninety-Five Theses to the Church Door in Wittenberg.” Jack knows a little about the Ninety-Five Theses, but he’ll learn more, be able to toss around Martin Luther facts. “By the way, did you know that the ninety-first article in Martin Luther’s Ninety-Five Theses is about the Holy Trinity?”

He’ll talk to his UCLA advisor, sign up for religion classes, get information on the best graduate schools for religious studies. Where would he like to live after L.A.? Somewhere on the east coast, not too cold though. Does the University of Hawaii have a religious studies program? That could be perfect. Surfing, studying, drinking piña coladas on the beach.

He has a new life plan. The best thing that ever happened to him was Normandie and Megan breaking up with him.

***

Megan calls first. Says she’s still mad at him, but she took a happiness survey online and it talked about forgiveness and life being too short and stuff like that, so maybe he should come see
Guys
and
Dolls
. Although it’s a pretty strange production because the director has been inspired by the
Godfather
movies.

Normandie calls a couple days later. “Sorry I unfriended you on Facebook. That was petty,” she says. “We can still hang out sometimes. On one condition.”

“Sure,” Jack says, wondering what the condition would be.

“We date each other exclusively. No Megan. What do you think?”

Jack’s thinking he’d prefer to study so he can graduate and imagine his new life as Dr. Mulani. But he agrees.

“Great,” Normandie says. “I’m serious about Megan though. It’s just me. Because I think our relationship could have real depth.”

Real depth? Jack’s not sure how he feels about that. But at least there’s a chance of finally having sex with Normandie.

“You want to come over tonight?” he asks her.

***

Megan is right about
Guys
and
Dolls
. It’s an unusual production, sort of noir-y and humorless. And Jack is confused by the shootout between Nathan Detroit and Skye Masterson in the middle of the “Luck Be a Lady” number.

“The director added the shootout,” Megan explains after the show. “He also wanted a horse’s head at the end of act one, but they talked him out of it.” Jack and Megan are in her bed and Jack has a flash of Normandie, but it’s just a flash and what Normandie doesn’t know won’t hurt her.

Not that Normandie has had sex with him. She still insists on waiting, but promises it will be soon. “I want it to be extra special,” she tells him. “Unforgettable. Something you’ll remember for the rest of your life.”

Megan sticks her bare legs straight up in the air and admires her freshly painted toenails—tiny black skulls against white. “I missed you,” she tells Jack.

“Ditto,” Jack says. He’s glad he’s back with Megan, and how good could sex be with Normandie? It couldn’t be
that
amazing.

Or could it?

***

He’s signed up for two religion classes even though his advisor told him his plan was “ambitious.” She didn’t say ambitious in a good way. Jack reassured her and said he felt he was finally on track.

He hasn’t mentioned anything to his parents about his Master Plan yet; he wants the timing to be right. First step, see what his sister is up to because it would be just like her to go and win the Nobel Prize the minute he announces
his
big news.

Two girlfriends, a Master Plan, a new minor in religion, money in the bank (almost). He’s anticipating other great things, so when he gets a phone call from a number he doesn’t recognize, he figures he’s won five million dollars in a lottery he forgot he entered.

“Is this Jack Mulani?” the voice asks.

“Yes,” he says, thinking the first thing he’ll do with the money is buy a house. With a killer ocean view. And a sports court. And an infinity pool. Nothing too ostentatious…not that you can be super ostentatious with only five mil to spend on a house in Los Angeles.

“My name is Laurie Gaines.” She doesn’t say anything for a few seconds and Jack gets a feeling in the pit of his stomach.
She isn’t going to tell me I’ve won five million dollars. She’s going to tell me something else.

He hears her take a breath. “I’m having your baby,” she says.

Laurie recognizes him at once. He looks like the boy in the baseball picture but grown up. Lean and handsome and needs a haircut. At least he’s here; he didn’t chicken out. That’s something, she tells herself. And then she thinks about going back to her car and driving home because this is scarier than she thought, meeting the father of your child for the first time.

Last night, Alan told her it was a bad idea for her to have lunch with Jack. Or “296,” as he refers to him.

“You could come too,” she tells Alan.

“I don’t think so.”

“Are you sure? Don’t you want to know what he’s like?”

“You read the file.”

“I want to see him. Talk to him. You aren’t curious?”

“I’m curious you’re so curious.”

“We agreed—” Laurie says.

“To have the baby, I know. But I’m still having a hard time with this.”

“I understand.”

“Do you?”

Another silence. Even though they’re moving forward, the reality of what’s happening is settling in, and as days pass, instead of bringing them together, the pregnancy seems to be pushing against them, shoving them apart.

“I need to know who he is, not just words in a sperm donor application,” Laurie says.

“He likes to play kickball. Doesn’t that tell you everything you need to know?”

“You can’t understand somebody’s personality from a file. I want to hear his voice. His laugh. Make sure he’s got a sense of humor.”

“And if he doesn’t?”

“We’ll give the baby up for adoption.”

Whoops, she’s said that with too much edge in her voice. Alan frowns.

“Funny,” he says.

“I wasn’t trying to be funny. Or bitchy. I’m sorry if it came off that way.” She pauses. “He’s part of us now.”

“But I don’t want him to be. That’s the problem. I’m sorry too.”

Alan walks out of the room. Laurie listens to him open the refrigerator door. He’s getting a beer.
We’re turning into the house of alcohol. We could open a bar.
She puts her hands on her stomach. It feels round and full, an almost twenty-week pregnant belly. Is she just imagining it, is that a flutter? Like a butterfly, she imagines wings inside her body moving ever so lightly.

***

Laurie watches Jack; he’s sitting at a table by himself at the Castle Park Café. Café is a generous way to describe the food court at the Castle Park arcade—a dozen tables, several wall-mounted flat-screen TVs blaring ESPN channels, adding to the din of arcade game sounds—machine gun fire, game show music, revving engines. Will Laurie have to shout for Jack to hear her? And yet it seems like a safe place to meet. Not too fancy or intimidating. Jack sips his Coke, looks down at the napkin in front of him and begins to shred it. He’s wearing a faded blue polo shirt splotchy with bleach stains. His hair falls in front of his eyes.

Laurie takes a deep breath. It’s time.

“Nice to meet you.” Jack stands when Laurie joins him. Good manners. That wasn’t in the file.

“Well. This is a little…” she says.

Jack smiles. “Weird.” He looks down, realizes he’s staring at Laurie’s belly, sits quickly.

“I’m not sure what to say. I read your profile.”

“So you know everything about me. That’s weird. Oh, I said that already.” Jack concentrates on his napkin.

He’s young; he could be eighteen, not twenty-one. What should she say? Why didn’t she plan something? “How’s school?” she finally asks him.

“Okay. I’m a fifth year senior. But I’ll finish up by spring.”

“What’s your major?”

Before he can answer, a girl in a T-shirt with a Castle Park logo appears. She yawns, ready to go home. “You can order at the window,” she says, pointing to a menu sign above the counter. “Or I could bring you something.” She looks like she’d rather clean the tables with her tongue.

Laurie checks out the menu—burgers, pizza, quesadillas. “Ah—I haven’t decided yet.” She can feel the girl checking her out, noticing the bulge in Laurie’s shirt.

“You’re pregnant, huh?” the girl says.

“Yes.”

The girl turns to Jack. “Whoa, aren’t you lucky?”

Jack almost knocks over his Coke. “It’s not, it’s sort of…” He clears his throat, turns to Laurie.
Help me out here
.

Laurie smiles back at the girl. “He’s not the father. Well, he
is
. It’s a little nutty. My husband’s at work. You know what? I think we’re ready to order.”

***

The girl practically tosses their cheeseburgers on the table, she’s so reluctant to make eye contact. Jack is still grinning (sense of humor, check); he likes that the girl is uncomfortable.

Laurie watches as Jack squirts ketchup and mustard on his cheeseburger. “I suppose you want to know more about me,” he says.

Laurie nods.

“My parents were born in Mumbai. It used to be Bombay. They had an arranged marriage.”

“Yuck,” says Laurie.

“No, it was actually okay. They’re perfect for each other. They came to the States to go to graduate school; now they’re both professors at Stanford. He teaches chemistry and she teaches biology and bioinformatics.”

“What’s that?”

“You combine biology, computer science, and statistics.”

“And you get a really smart frog who can use a calculator?”

Jack smiles. His teeth are perfect and white against his mocha skin. His eyes are large, deep brown, almost black. “So my parents had big expectations for me,” he says.

“Oh. Not a fifth year senior? You never told me your major.”

Jack looks down at his napkin. “That’s another problem. I keep changing it. Right now I’ve got a South American studies major with a religious studies minor. But I’m not sure what I’ll do after graduation. My parents—they’re not exactly over the moon.”

“They’re parents. Go figure. At least they want what’s best for you.”

Jack makes a face, picks at a french fry. “Do you know what you’re going to do with the baby?”

The question comes out of nowhere. It was safer talking about UCLA. Laurie is tempted to tell him everything. She hasn’t told anyone else yet about the switched sperm. Not Grace, not her mother. She and Alan have decided to wait to tell people. For how long? They’re not sure.

Laurie could use a confidante, like her old G.I. Joe doll. Someone to talk to about what her life is like now, how it’s become a mixture of joy and confusion, how she’s mostly thrilled, but sometimes overwhelmed by the strangeness of it all. She could explain how she and Alan lie in bed at night, not sleeping, sharing their wordless anxiety about what will happen when the baby arrives.

“I’d like to hear more about UCLA,” Laurie says to Jack.

***

Jack tells Laurie he’s considering graduate school and an advanced degree in religious studies.

“I took a comparative religion class in high school,” Laurie says. “You must’ve taken lots of classes.”

“Some,” Jack says, and Laurie can tell he’s not being entirely truthful. She already suspects he wasn’t a hundred percent honest on the donor application, so she’s not surprised. But she feels a small moment of panic. How many other things did he lie about?

“I think because I’ve taken such a variety of
other
classes, I’ll be able to bring all that experience with me to a graduate program,” Jack says.

“Practicing what you’ll say to the interviewer?”

Jack looks caught. “Oh, I didn’t mean—”

“I get it. I was a college kid too.”

She likes him. Is he what she was expecting? She’s not sure
what
she was expecting—a steroid-pumped frat boy who crushes beer cans against his head? Jack seems open, smart, friendly. Nervous—well, who wouldn’t be?

How much of Jack will be in the baby? Will Jack and Laurie’s genetic material combine in a good way? Will the baby look like him? Latte-colored skin and dark eyes? No invisible Alan eyebrows. There’s a blessing. Jack seems to be kind and he has a sweet quality. That makes her feel better. Well, betterish.

***

After lunch Laurie asks if he’d like to play miniature golf. “This is one of the best mini golf/arcades in the Valley,” she says. She’s explained her job at Hidden Valley, and Jack thinks it sounds “awesome.”

He’ll take a pass on mini golf, but how about they check out some of the games? He’s interested in The Vault, a laser maze challenge where you thread your way in the dark and try to make it to the end without touching glowing laser beams. Laurie begs off—the baby, you know—and Jack nods, yeah, probably not such a good idea. Instead Laurie buys ten dollars worth of arcade tokens and gives them to Jack.

“All four of my grandparents are still alive,” Jack says after winning twenty prize tickets on Ninja Assassin. “No hidden relatives in mental institutions. At least none I know about.”

Laurie laughs. “The truth is, you shake anybody’s family tree and you’ll find some nuts. Do you have a girlfriend?”

Jack hesitates. Uh oh, should Laurie have asked that question? And now that Jack isn’t saying anything, Laurie wonders if he’s gay. Not that she cares.

“Sort of,” Jack says.

“I didn’t mean to get too personal.” Although she
is
having his child.

“Her name is Megan,” he says. “I’m not sure what she’d think about this.”

Laurie can tell he’s left something out. Here’s a quality she doesn’t want Jack to pass along to the baby—the inability to lie. Unless that’s a good thing, to have a face that’s completely transparent.

“Are you going to tell her?” she asks him.

“I don’t know.”

“What about your parents?”

“Are you kidding? They’d flip. Did you tell anybody?”

“Not yet.”

They don’t say anything for a while. Laurie knows Jack has questions for her, but he stays quiet.

“You can ask me anything, Jack.”

“Really?”

Laurie nods at him.

“It’s just—I don’t have a lot of money,” he says. “I’m not sure I can pay child support.”

“I don’t need money from you,” she says. “That’s not why I wanted to have lunch.”

The relief on his face is obvious. “Then how come?”

“To know what the baby will be like.”

***

With the child support issue off his chest, Jack talks more openly about his sperm bank visits. “They said if a kid gets conceived by donor sperm, at age eighteen, they can contact the clinic and get information. About me. So I knew it could happen.”

“Just not right now.”

“Yeah. It seemed more—hypothetical. Nothing to do with a real live baby.” Jack looks around at the arcade, lights flash against his face. Red, blue, purple. “What does your husband think?” he asks Laurie.

A complicated question. “He’s confused.”

“That makes sense. He thought it was his baby. Now it’s mine.” Jack looks flustered. “Not mine. I don’t mean I think it’s mine…”

“I understand. Don’t worry.”

Jack looks at her. “What about you?”

“I’m confused too. And scared. But I want a child. And now I’m pregnant, so there isn’t a lot I can do. Except take care of myself. And have a baby.”

***

Laurie watches Jack concentrate as he plays Skee-Ball. What happens now? Will she continue to talk to him? Will Alan ever meet Jack? Will Jack come to a baby shower? Will they shake hands at Castle Park and say good-bye? “Good luck with the baby,” Jack will say to her. She’s taking the first steps in a journey where she has no idea what the ending will be. She feels tears in her eyes. Damn, she didn’t want to cry in front of Jack. It was absurd to meet him; the whole situation is absurd.

Jack turns around. “Hey,” he says. “It’s going to be okay.” Deep inside the Skee-Ball machine, gears grind, and with a
click
click
click
, a stream of blue prize tickets begin to appear.

***

After Laurie’s meeting with Jack, she drives to Alan’s office and waits in the Palmer-Boone parking garage. She’s brought along a Sheila Kitzinger pregnancy book and opens it to the chapter with illustrations of fetuses at various stages. Mid–second trimester and her baby is beginning to blink, grow tiny toenails.
Are
you
sucking
your
thumb? Developing a brain curious for science facts from your paternal grandparents? Can you hear the fights with Alan? Did you recognize Jack, your birth father’s voice?

The baby will be born,
her
baby, and the baby will know who she is at once—her smell, her voice. They’ve spent nine months together. Switched sperm specimens, the baby doesn’t care.

Laurie is crying when Alan approaches the car.

“Honey?”

He gets in, doesn’t say anything for a while. Finally he asks, “Did you meet him?”

Laurie nods, not trusting herself to speak.

Alan examines the dials on the dashboard, the button that makes the seats go warm. A silly indulgence when you live in Southern California, but it was one of the options.

“Is he nice?” Alan says.

Laurie nods again.

“What’s he like?”

Laurie’s not sure how to begin. Does Alan really want to know? She and Jack have agreed to keep in touch. Maybe next time they’ll try mini golf. Or the batting cages.

She says to her husband, “He’s like you.”