Expecting: A Novel (24 page)

“Those aren’t necessarily the same things.”

“Of course they are. But you have to think they are.”

Alan looks over at the empty crib. “My apartment is nice.”

“Did you get the one with the haunted dishwasher?”

“They fixed it—or maybe they did an exorcism.”

They look at each other for a long time. “Now what?” Alan says.

Laurie shrugs. “It’s not just about us anymore. Us used to be only you and me.”

“Us got bigger.” Alan smiles at Laurie. “You look pretty good for somebody who just popped out a baby.”

“‘Popped out a baby’ isn’t remotely close to the reality of labor and delivery. Trust me.”

“I do,” Alan says, and he kisses her, not on the cheek, but on the lips. His breath is lemony from the tom yum soup.

She pulls him into the bed with her.

“I bet this isn’t allowed,” he says.

“What are they going to do?”

“You’ve never heard of hospital jail?” Alan says, and she laughs.

“I missed your jokes,” she tells him.

“My jokes? You must have a fever.”

“I’m serious. I missed them. And your dirty socks.” She hesitates. “I can’t do this by myself,” she tells him. “Raise a baby.”

“Sure you can. You’re invincible. One of the strongest, most capable people I know.”

“No. I need you. She does too.”

Alan is silent.

“By the way, she could also use a name,” Laurie says.

“I thought we decided. Jessica Alba Gaines. Works for me.”

Laurie shakes her head, leans against Alan. He feels warm and solid and familiar. He feels
right
. “When can we take her home?” she asks him.

***

Eight-week-old Lee Asha Gaines rests against Laurie’s shoulder. The yellow room, now officially the baby’s room, is crowded with toys and stuffed animals and baby bathtubs and a bunch of things Jack can’t even identify. On a shelf are various stuffed Indian dolls he doesn’t remember seeing before.

“They’re from my friend Grace,” Laurie tells him. “You haven’t met her yet, but you will. She’s dying to meet you. And furious with me because I didn’t tell her what was going on. Aren’t they beautiful?” Laurie looks at the dolls. “Grace found them at an antique store in Canoga Park. I like the one with the woman holding a sitar.”

“I think it’s a sarod, not a sitar,” Jack says. He’s watching Laurie rock the baby in the glider.

“What am I going to do with you, missy?” Laurie brushes her lips against the top of baby Lee’s head and takes a deep breath. Why does a baby’s head smell like heaven? “It’s time for your nap.”

“She doesn’t want to miss anything,” Jack says.

“But I’ve run out of verses of ‘He’s Got the Whole World in His Hands.’ I suppose I could make up my own.” Laurie begins to sing. “He’s got Elmo and diaper rash, in his hands. He’s got Big Bird and A&D Ointment, in his hands.”

Jack starts to laugh and the baby turns at the sound.

“Great, now she’ll never go to sleep. You’re distracting her.” Laurie sings again, “He’s got Beyoncé and poopy diapers, in his hands…”

“What’s with the ‘he’ business? Shouldn’t you sing ‘she’ sometimes?”

“Oh no. Your religious studies minor is rearing its ugly head.”

Laurie and Alan have invited Jack and Megan over for dinner. Alan and Megan are in the kitchen cooking—occasionally Laurie hears the sound of a dropped pan then laughter. “Megan’s not the greatest cook,” Jack has warned Laurie. “She tries though. So cut her some slack.”

That sounds ominous, but Laurie nods. “I’m just happy you’re both here.” After his graduation, Jack and Megan moved into an apartment together. Jack is working as a waiter at an Umami Burger in Santa Monica and taking a GRE prep class. He’s still undecided about what he’ll do in graduate school. Religious studies might not be the best idea. Maybe psychology. Megan is auditioning for plays and commercials and trying out to be a game-show contestant so she can win a new car or a Vespa. No luck yet.

“My mother sent you a present,” Jack says as he hands Laurie a small package. “You wanted to know if she sang to me when I was little, so I asked her and she got you this.”

Laurie opens the package to find a CD of Indian lullabies. “Wow. I don’t know anything about Indian lullabies.”

“In India, a lullaby is called a
lori
. Isn’t that weird? Lori. Like Laurie?” Jack nods at Laurie.
Get
it?

Laurie waves the CD. “Maybe if we pop this in the CD player, she’ll fall asleep. You think?”

“Can’t hurt to try.” Jack puts the CD into the CD player on the top of the changing table. The music begins—a woman sings; her voice is high and silvery and beautiful.

“What a gorgeous voice. But I wish I could understand what she’s saying.” Laurie strokes Lee’s dark hair, so much hair for a baby. And it’s already curly—no need to dress her in pink to prove she’s a girl.

“My mother said there are lots of lullabies about the moon.” Jack looks at the liner notes and reads. “
So
Ja
Chanda. So ja chanda raja so ja, chal sapnon mein chal
.” He reads the translation: “Sleep, my lovely moonchild; sleep, my prince. Come to the world of dreams, come.”

“That’s pretty,” Laurie says. “Although Lee’s a princess, not a prince.”

“You should learn the song.”

Laurie laughs. “Me? I think that’s impossible. “

“I bet my mother would help you. Hey, look, she likes it.” Jack might be right—baby Lee turns her head to the music as if she’s listening.

***

Dinner is not the disaster Jack has predicted. Megan has made her Famous Mystery Meatballs and Spaghetti.

“What’s the mystery?” Laurie asks her.

“If I told you, it wouldn’t be a mystery anymore,” Megan says.

Laurie turns to Alan. Does he know the secret?

He shrugs. “I just did the salad.” He looks over to Lee in the baby swing. Jack and Megan have each tried to make her sleep with zero success. The swing runs on batteries, so it moves back and forth by itself. Lee looks like she’d be happy swinging until the batteries wear out.

“I think she’s excited because she has company for dinner,” Megan says. “She’s pretty incredible.”

“Not so much at three in the morning,” Alan says. And he winks at Laurie.

“We’re taking turns with the feedings,” Laurie explains to Megan and Jack. “Alan’s a whiz at warming up breast milk.”

“Less of a whiz at getting up in the middle of the night. But you adapt.” He watches baby Lee.

Laurie takes a bite of the meatball and to her surprise, it’s good. Although there’s something sweet she can’t identify. “I can taste turkey, Megan. And parsley. Onion, maybe a little garlic and oregano.”

“Yep.” Megan glances over at the baby. “It’s crazy how big she is already. And I love her name. The Lee came from you, right, Alan?”

“Alan Lee Gaines,” Alan says. “My mother says Lee has been in our family for years. And she insists we might be related to Robert E. Lee.” His mother, when he finally told her the truth, was thrilled and couldn’t wait to visit California and see the baby. But she also wanted to meet Jack and learn more about his roots. Just what the family tree needed—not only Abraham Lincoln, but a connection to India.

“Where’d Asha come from? Was that your idea, Jack?” Megan asks.

Jack shakes his head. “Not me.”

“Alan got a baby book,” Laurie explains. “He thought it would be nice for the baby’s middle name to be Indian.”

“So why’d you pick Asha?”

Alan looks at Laurie. He doesn’t say anything right away. “Because it means hope.”

***

When Jack and Megan are leaving, Laurie, with the baby in her arms, whispers to Jack. “What’s the mystery ingredient in the meatballs?” Jack makes sure Megan can’t hear and whispers quickly to Laurie. “Crushed up Skittles.” Laurie makes a face. “I know,” Jack says, misinterpreting Laurie’s expression. “Isn’t that genius?” He leans over to give baby Lee a kiss on the cheek. “See you soon, peanut,” he says, and he runs after Megan. Baby Lee watches him go.

Laurie closes the front door and looks at Alan, at the baby. “Suppose she decides to never go to sleep again?”

“I think the chances of that are about a zillion to one. Do you want me to start on dishes?” Alan asks.

“Let’s wait. I can do them in the morning.”

“Want me to give the sleep thing a try?” Alan holds out his arms for the baby. “Would you like to dance?” he says to baby Lee. The music is still playing from dinner—Laurie picked Frank Sinatra and Jack groaned until Megan shoved him and said Frank Sinatra was an icon and he should appreciate that.

“You won’t sleep for your mother, but you’ll be good for your old man, won’t you?”

“I don’t know if dancing with her will put her to sleep,” Laurie says.

Alan does a spin, then a dip.

“Alan, stop it, you’re going to make her
more
excited.” But Laurie can’t help herself from grinning at the sight of a grown man dancing with an infant.

“She’s having a great time. Maybe when she grows up, she’ll be a ballroom dancer.” He dips her again and the baby giggles. “We could be a team, father and daughter.”

“Good luck with that.” Laurie watches the two of them together. And baby Lee does seem as if she’s having a great time. Suddenly Laurie draws in her breath. “Did you see that?”

“What?”

“She smiled at you.”

“No, she didn’t,” Alan says. He looks at Lee. “She’s not old enough. Babies don’t smile for weeks and weeks. Not real smiles.”

“It’s
been
weeks and weeks. Spin her again. And watch.”

Alan holds the baby’s arm out as if they’re doing the tango. “A tango dancer, that’s what you’ll be. With a rose between your teeth. When you get teeth.” Baby Lee watches Alan closely—she seems very serious. And then her face breaks into a smile. A huge, genuine grin. Toothless. Wide-mouthed. And full of delight.

“Remarkable,” Laurie says.

“Awesome,” Alan says. He kisses baby Lee on the forehead, spins her again, and they continue to dance.

1. 
Laurie and Alan’s relationship begins to change after the miscarriages. Fertility issues are a huge strain on a marriage. Laurie and Alan both secretly blame themselves, and each other. Is there anything they could have done differently?

2. 
As a pregnant woman, it’s easy for Laurie to accept being a mother. But it’s more complicated for Alan and Jack. When Alan finds out he’s not the biological father, he feels his parenting role slip away. Jack donated his sperm for financial reasons. What is the definition of a parent? Discuss how Alan and Jack struggle to define their roles as fathers.

3. 
When Laurie and Alan find out about the sperm switch, Dr. Julian mentions termination as an option. But is it a real consideration for Laurie? For Alan? As a moral choice, should termination ever be an option?

4. 
All our main characters deal with guilt at some point in the book. Laurie’s two miscarriages make her feel she’s failed as a woman. Alan feels guilty over his inability to bond with unborn baby Buddy and about his online flirtation with Nancy Futterman. Jack’s got guilt to spare—stealing money, two girlfriends, lying to his parents. Who in the book has the most to feel guilty about? Is there a difference between justified and unjustified guilt?

5. 
When Alan and Laurie find out their baby is only half genetically related to them, the news is devastating. What would you do in this situation? If you were Laurie? If you were Alan? If you were Jack?

6. 
Would men and women react differently than portrayed in this book? Would most men sympathize with Alan? Agree with his behavior? Want a do-over? Would women be comfortable with Laurie’s decision to have the baby? To insist on meeting Jack and making him part of her life?

7. 
Laurie meeting Jack makes Alan uncomfortable. Should she have respected his wishes and
not
met Jack? Was she right to allow Jack to move into the house, to take her to Lamaze? How much should Laurie allow Jack to be part of the baby’s life afterward? Will that be fair to Alan? And is it fair for Laurie to expect Jack to be involved with the baby?

8. 
After Laurie and Alan find out about the switched sperm, their relationship becomes more difficult. Alan shuts down and Laurie goes off on her own to track down donor 296. Suppose Laurie hadn’t contacted Jack. Would it be better (as Alan says) for them to know nothing about the sperm donor? Keep it a mystery? But what about medical issues? Shouldn’t Laurie and Alan know as much as possible about the donor to ensure the health of the baby?

9. 
Earlier in their marriage, Laurie and Alan talked about wanting to adopt a child. As Alan says, he doesn’t need to replicate himself—but when he finds out he isn’t the birth father, suddenly he’s very uncomfortable. What makes a child
your
child? Is an adopted child different from a birth child? When do you fall in love with that child? Is Alan’s fear a real one? Is it relatable?

10.
There are various ways to have a baby when complications arise. Fertility treatments and adoption are two options. Discuss the difference between the time and expense of fertility treatments and adopting in a world filled with unwanted children in orphanages or foster care.

11.
Which character changes the most? The least?

12.
Discuss Alan’s statement: “Families are all kind of different these days.” Is that true?

13.
What will happen with Laurie, Alan, and Jack after the baby comes home? Where will they be a year from now? Three years from now?

You’ve spent most of your career writing film and television. Why did you decide to write fiction?

I’ve always loved to tell stories in different ways—when I was in middle school, our class performed a play I’d written. For years I drew cartoons and made comic books because my goal was to be an artist and writer for
MAD
magazine. Go figure—I ended up writing film and TV.

A few years ago, I thought about trying fiction and signed up for an online UCLA Extension class.

And was it an easy transition?

No, it was misery. The act of filling up a page with prose—I was shocked at how hard it was. And this is coming from someone who makes a living writing 110-page screenplays or 55-page teleplays. But writing fiction was like learning a new language. I was lucky to have a fantastic teacher, Daniel Jaffe, who was very encouraging.
Expecting
was originally a short story I wrote for his class.

Why did you turn it into a novel?

I showed the short story to a fellow TV writer, and he suggested I expand it. I laughed at him. It took so much effort to write five thousand words, I couldn’t imagine writing something at least eighty thousand words. But then I thought—why not?

How was the process?

As hard as I thought it would be. I decided to write it as part of NaNoWriMo, National Novel Writing Month, an Internet creative writing project where every year a group of people attempt to write fifty thousand words during the month of November. With the short story, I had the genesis of a novel, so on November first, I dove in. One of the great things about NaNo is because you’re writing so quickly, there’s no time to look back. Zoom, you just
go
. When you finally see what you’ve written in December, naturally some of it is horrible, but it’s always a surprise to find gems there as well.

The short story began with Laurie getting the phone call about the switched sperm and ended with her meeting Jack for the first time. Because the story was from Laurie’s perspective, there wasn’t much about Jack, only what Laurie had read in his donor application. Doing NaNo meant I had to give him a life. I didn’t do any other preparation for NaNo besides having the short story. No outline, nothing. That first day I thought—aha—it might be interesting to write the novel from three POVs: Laurie, Alan, and Jack. I had no idea Jack would juggle two girlfriends or struggle with finding a college major; it all sort of tumbled out. (NaNo people—I didn’t include the short story in my final page count.)

A science fiction novelist friend told me that when you’re writing a book, if you get to page seventy-five, you’ll be in love with what you’re writing, and suddenly you’ll be on page three hundred with no idea how you got there. I was dubious, but he turned out to be right.

How much of the story is from your real life?

No switched sperm, whew. But my husband and I did have fertility issues. Our first pregnancy ended in a miscarriage. Like Laurie’s, very early. But it was still devastating.

I remember the insensitivity of some people—one person said to me, “It’s just a miscarriage. It’s not as if it was a stillbirth.” Of course there’s a difference, but the loss of an imagined life is still a death. I was lucky to be on staff at
thirtysomething
at the time and was able to write an episode about the experience.

Our second pregnancy resulted in a son, and then we couldn’t get pregnant again and started seeing fertility doctors. We looked into adoption too, something we’d always wanted to do. At one point I was pregnant again
and
we had an infant daughter who would be arriving soon from India. But that pregnancy also ended in miscarriage.

I feel lucky and blessed to have both a birth child and an adopted child. And I would encourage anyone to explore adoption.

So where did the idea of switched sperm come from?

We got pregnant the second time through IUI, and my husband made a joke about how he hoped he was the father. I filed that away in the writer part of my brain—“But suppose he’s
not
?”

That’s one reason I love being a writer. Everything is “what if?” What if Atticus Finch hadn’t agreed to take Tom Robinson’s case? Suppose Captain Ahab said, “Enough with the whales. I’m going to open a sushi restaurant in Nantucket.”

I drove my husband insane writing the book because I wanted to make sure to capture the male perspective—how would a man react? “Honey, what would you do if somebody switched around your sperm?” I see Alan as sympathetic because he’s facing a terrible dilemma—his child isn’t his child; his wife is becoming friends with the sperm donor. What will be his role in the family once the baby is born?

Your favorite writers?

I love Edith Wharton and Charles Dickens and F. Scott Fitzgerald. John Irving and Kate Atkinson. Colum McCann’s
Let
the
Great
World
Spin
was so brilliant I couldn’t write anything for weeks after reading it. Nick Hornby and Douglas Coupland, Helen Fielding and Sophie Kinsella—I enjoy writers who make me laugh. I wish David Sedaris lived at my house.
Wolf
Hall
and
Bring
Up
the
Bodies
were amazing, and I hope Hilary Mantel hurries up and finishes the third book in the series. And I read a lot of mysteries—Ruth Rendell, Ian Rankin, Henning Mankell, and Denise Mina are some of my favorites. Imogen Robertson writes a wonderful series of historical mysteries. I could go on and on.

Any advice to writers starting out?

I hear from a lot of people that they have great ideas for a novel or a screenplay. Ideas are great, but you’ve got to get it on paper. Then you’re a writer, not just somebody who has good ideas. Don’t be afraid. Pour it out there. And you’ll be surprised.