Just the Nicest Couple(35)

After going to the police the other day and filing that missing person’s report, it was time to come clean. I didn’t want my mother to hear about Jake from someone else, before she heard it from me.

I also didn’t want to spend another night in that house alone.

“Just one night so far,” I say to Lily. “I picked her up yesterday. She’ll stay with me until Jake is back.”

Lily reaches for her water. “You should have invited her along for breakfast,” she says, taking a sip from her glass.

“It’s fine,” I say. “I wanted you all to myself. I can never get through a whole conversation with you anymore without us getting interrupted.”

“So she’s at your house now?” Lily asks.

“Yes.”

Lily takes another sip of her water and sets the glass back down. “Would you excuse me?” she asks and, as she stands up from the table, I see that her face has lost color.

“Yes, of course. Is everything okay, Lily?” I ask, concerned that she might still be sick from earlier in the week.

“I just need to use the restroom,” she says. She gets the attention of a waitress to ask where it is. The waitress points her in the right direction. “I’ll be right back,” she says to me. “Sorry,” she says, though there’s no reason for her to be sorry. I’m just worried about her.

Lily reaches for her purse before she leaves and I watch as she disappears to the bathroom, weaving between tables. I wait for her to come back. I don’t want to eat without her. I keep an eye on the bathroom door, but when I’m not watching the door, I people watch, running my eyes over the vast number of happy people, friends and husbands and wives with kids who fill the crowded restaurant. Everyone seems so happy. Everyone but me.

Eventually Lily comes back. She was gone so long that I was just starting to think I should check on her.

“What were we talking about?” she asks as she lowers herself into the seat across from me, avoiding my eye. She reaches again for her glass of water.

I say, “My mother.”

“Oh. Right,” she says, and I can see Lily trying to remember what we were even saying about my mother.

I say, “How she’s staying with me.” I reach for my fork and take a bite of my omelet. Lily isn’t eating. I ask, “Are you feeling okay, Lily?”

“Fine. Why?” she asks, but her face is pale and I can see that she’s not fine.

“You don’t seem fine.”

“I am fine. I promise.” She sips again from her water.

“You’re not eating.”

“I’m just not hungry. I’m sorry. Christian made breakfast this morning. He forgot about me meeting you.”

“You were in the bathroom a long time. Are you sure you’re really okay?”

“Yes,” she says. “I’m sure.”

I don’t know that I believe her. It seems like she’s holding something back. I stare at her, worried about her, as she tries to force a bite of scrambled eggs into her mouth to prove a point. It doesn’t go well. She winds up chewing the eggs a long time until eventually she swallows. But even then, she has to take another sip of her water to force the bite down.

She scoops more eggs onto her fork, sizes them up, but then gives up. Her shoulders go suddenly slack, she drops her fork and confesses, “I’m pregnant, Nina,” and everything that’s been happening this week with Lily makes perfect sense. The way she disappeared so quickly the other day after school, to a doctor appointment maybe. Lily’s forgetfulness and her absentmindedness. The color of her skin. The extended time she spent in the bathroom, being sick probably. The fact that she’s only pushing the food around her plate and not eating, though breakfast was her idea. Lily has always been disposed to morning sickness and I can see in her face, now that I know, that she feels sick. Her left hand is on her abdomen and she keeps sipping from that glass of water, as if trying to squelch a bout of nausea.

“Congratulations,” I say, but it’s less than enthusiastic because Lily and Christian have had rotten luck when it comes to getting pregnant. Actually, getting pregnant hasn’t been difficult for them, it’s keeping the baby alive that has been. It’s not my place to say, but I don’t know why she and Christian keep trying, why they keep setting themselves up for heartbreak.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” I ask, my voice softening.

“You know why,” she says, and I do. Because the odds that she will lose this baby are high. “Besides, you have so much going on right now, with your mother and Jake. I didn’t want to burden you.”

I reach my hand across the table for hers. Hers is wet and icy cold from holding on to the water glass. I’ve been a shitty friend. I’ve been going through something hard, but Lily has too. “You’re never a burden, Lily. You can always tell me anything. How far along are you?”

“Nine weeks.”

I breathe in deeply. Lily has never made it to the second trimester. This is a precarious time for her, Christian and the baby. Life is precious but fragile.

“What is the doctor saying?”

“That everything seems to be fine. So far. But then again, it always is.”

It’s like with Jake. Things are fine, until suddenly they’re not.