Pineapple Street(65)
“Welcome to Wonderland!” Tilda said dramatically as she threw open the door. She was wearing a hat so big it was touching the hallway on either side, and she applauded appreciatively at Darley’s outfit before handing Malcolm a black top hat with playing cards sewn in the brim. “Everyone’s wearing a mad hat! Now pick a drink. If you think the baby is going to be a girl have a Pink Lady, if you think it’s a boy have a Blue Arrow.”
“What’s a Blue Arrow?” Malcolm whispered to Darley.
“Blue cura?ao and gin. Avoid,” Darley whispered back.
Cord and Sasha were already there, Cord wolfing down heart-and spade-shaped tea sandwiches and Sasha looking flushed and pretty in a flower crown.
“I love your headpiece,” Darley complimented her, kissing Sasha hello.
“Oh, your mother had it made for me. She came over yesterday to see what outfit I was planning to make sure it would go.”
“Of course she did,” Darley said and laughed.
The table was teeming with food: cucumber and cream cheese on pillowy white bread, chicken salad with grapes, egg and watercress, each plate with a little tag that read “EAT ME.” The cocktail table had similar tags reading “DRINK ME.”
“Oh my God, ‘Eat me’?” Darley scrunched her nose.
“Really classy, Dar,” Cord grinned. “This is a family party.”
“So, is it a boy or a girl? You can tell me, I won’t tell anyone,” Darley wheedled.
“We don’t actually know,” Sasha said. “We had the doctor write it on a piece of paper, and your mother gave it to her caterer. When we cut the cake it’ll be either pink or blue inside.”
“Wow, that’s cheesy,” interrupted Georgiana, walking up and popping a cherry tomato in her mouth.
Sasha laughed tightly. “It wasn’t our idea.”
“NMF,” said Malcolm, winking at Sasha. Darley pretended she didn’t know what their little private code meant.
Georgiana had brought her best friend, Lena, and Darley was happy to see her. She had known Lena since she was a little kid, and Darley had fond memories of babysitting them when she was home from college, painting their nails and letting them eat entire tubs of cookie dough while watching Zac Efron movies. Georgiana had been so erratic lately—it seemed like she was already tipsy—and it made Darley glad to think Lena was also watching out for her.
“Let me taste that.” Malcolm gestured to Georgiana’s cocktail, which looked like antifreeze in a martini glass. He took a sip and winced. “That’s like naked-wasted stuff.”
“Well, it is a gender reveal party,” Cord joked, clearly slightly hyper. “We didn’t say whose gender we would be revealing.”
Sasha had invited a handful of her friends, some from work and some from art school, including Vara, and Darley made a point of introducing herself to everyone, steering them away from the blue drinks when possible. Sasha’s parents had canceled at the last minute— her dad wasn’t feeling well—and Darley’s heart broke a little they wouldn’t get to be a part of this, drinking Pink Ladies and seeing Sasha in her flower crown. But Tilda was relishing her role as the matriarch, swanning about in her hat, breaking her own edict and sipping a glass of champagne, unwilling to stain her teeth either boy or girl colored.
* * *
—
After an hour of eating and mingling, the party gathered around the cake, a gargantuan, wedding-style tower with three tiers covered in white and yellow roses. Sasha’s friends pulled out their iPhones to document the reveal, and she and Cord used a Tiffany knife to make the cut. Cord held the first slice aloft—but the inside of the cake was white.
“What does white mean?” Cord asked the room.
“Cut farther into it! Maybe there’s a filling!”
They cut again, this time all the way to the center. White. Cord dramatically started spearing each layer as though he were a magician attempting the woman-in-a-box trick. It was white all the way through.
“Oh raspberries, I’ll call the bakery,” Tilda announced, batting her hat brim out of her eyes and punching their number into her phone. It turned out the bakery had also filled an order for a fiftieth wedding anniversary that day, so somewhere across town a couple of old people were eating bright blue or pink lemon curd. The party gathered around the iPhone so that the baker could read aloud the note from Sasha’s obstetrician.
“It’s a boy!” the baker cried from the tiny screen, and Tilda screamed merrily and hung up on her. “What fabulous news!”
Cord and Sasha laughed and kissed, and everyone who had punished their livers with the Blue Arrow cocktails raised their glasses in victory. A boy! Darley was happy. The baby would be six years younger than Hatcher, but her kids would have their first cousin. And Cord would be an unbelievable father. As she looked around the room at their friends and family eating and laughing over the cake debacle, she noticed Georgiana wasn’t smiling.
“This is such a fucked-up thing to be celebrating, you guys,” she said loudly, and the party quieted as though someone had called for a toast. She was swaying lightly, her cheeks aflame as she spoke. “It shouldn’t matter if it’s a boy or a girl. Gender is a spectrum.”
“Georgiana, dear, nobody knows what on earth you’re talking about,” Tilda admonished her from beneath her enormous hat. “We would be just as happy if it was a girl.”