Pineapple Street(44)
Sasha tried to imagine Tilda putting the baby on the floor in a basket and then surrounding it with matching napkins and flowers. Tonight’s theme is Forty Winks! “Okay.” Sasha tried a different approach. “I also heard you can hire a consultant to come in and babyproof the apartment. They show you all the things that might be dangerous to a baby.”
“Oh my God,” Cord laughed. “We don’t need to pay someone to tell us that we live in a death trap. Let’s just not worry about this now. The kid won’t be able to get into trouble until he can crawl, so that’s a full year away.” Cord lifted the cereal bowl with both hands and drank the last of the syrupy milk, a small Cocoa Krispie clinging to his lip.
“A year?”
“At least. Let’s just enjoy being pregnant.”
Enjoy being pregnant. Men so often did enjoy their side of it. But Sasha let it go. She really was too tired to argue, the pregnancy already sapping all of her energy. She had once read that ants took two hundred short naps every day, and that seemed enormously appealing to her. She was just exhausted, and according to the internet she wasn’t even allowed a sugar-free Red Bull.
* * *
—
The following Wednesday Sasha rode her bike down to Vara’s loft for a Drink and Draw. Of course she could only participate in half the evening’s activities, but honestly, missing out on Vara’s wine was no great loss. She set up her easel next to her friend Trevor and listened as everyone gossiped: A classmate had started sleeping with a prominent interior designer and suddenly was selling paintings all around the Upper East Side. Another classmate had been named artist in residence at the Studio Museum in Harlem, and everyone made a point to say how great it was while privately seething with jealousy. Sasha didn’t have much to add; she had been in her own world lately, but she was happy just to lose herself in the conversation.
When the nude model arrived a murmur of approval rippled through the room. The model was hugely pregnant, at least eight months if not nine. The other artists were thrilled—drawing a figure in such an extreme state was exciting—but Sasha felt herself studying her body in a different way. Instead of the perfect basketball she’d come to imagine, the woman’s belly was low and egg-shaped, her belly button poking out like a thimble. The veins in her breasts were visible, weaving blue and purple beneath her skin. As Sasha drew, she felt more awake than she had all week. Somehow seeing this naked stranger made her own pregnancy real.
“You’re so quiet,” Vara whispered, coming up behind her.
“I’m just drawing,” Sasha answered, using her thumb to smudge the pencil lines of the model’s hair.
“You’re not drinking,” Vara continued.
“Oh my God, Vara,” Sasha snorted.
“Do you think your tits will get that big? Probably not. But, ugh, maternity clothes are so gross. Are you going to be one of those annoying pregnant ladies who suddenly starts wearing polka dots? Promise me you won’t start dressing like some adult baby.”
“Vara, when I have a reason to discuss the sartorial choices of breeders I will do so. Now stop it,” Sasha said. Vara smiled smugly and left her alone.
Once Sasha was eight weeks along and had confirmed the pregnancy with a doctor who let her listen to the little hummingbird heart on the scanner, she called her mother to share the news.
“Oh, Sasha! This is so exciting! Tell me everything! How did it happen?”
“Mom! God, yuck! I’m not going to talk about that.”
“Lord, no! I didn’t mean literally. Sorry, don’t tell me how it happened. Just bravo! Bravo to you both! Are you nauseous? Are you sleeping?”
“I’m good, Mom, just tired. But really excited. How are you? How’s Dad?”
“Oh, well, we’re fine. Hold on, honey, I’m just going to run downstairs.” Sasha heard the muffled sound of her mother stomping down the carpeted steps and swooshing down the hall. A door creaked open and closed, followed by another creak and slam. Their dog barked anxiously. “Okay, I just didn’t want your father to hear me.”
“Where are you?”
“I’m in the pantry.”
Sasha laughed. Her parents’ pantry was notoriously overflowing with jars of pickles and red sauce, so she must have been jammed up against the heaving shelves. “Why?”
“Your father is being very private about this, but he has been having some shortness of breath. He has that inhaler for his asthma, but it just isn’t helping.”
“Jesus, Mom! Is he okay?”
“The other night he scared me to death. He coughed for an hour and was just wheezing.”
“Okay, what day was this? Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Oh, well, you know there was no reason to worry you. We already have the boys breathing down our necks here, so the last thing we need is to have you worry.”
“Of course I’m going to worry, Mom. Can you get him to the doctor?”
“I made him an appointment for tomorrow, I just have to get him to go.”
“Can I come along?”
“No need, sweetheart. Your father wouldn’t want us to make a big deal about it. He keeps saying he’s just out of shape. He gets winded starting the motor on the boat. You know how that thing only catches with a big yank. I’m always afraid he’s going to give one of us a black eye the way he rips at it,” she chuckled. “Okay, I’m going to get out of the pantry now. Don’t tell your dad I told you. And I’m so excited about your news, Sasha. I’m sorry to have changed the subject when this should have been a happy conversation all about you!”