I'm Glad About You(80)

“Why do you want me to wear it?”

This could go on for hours, as far as she was concerned. It was like being in an Ionesco play. She had done a scene from The Bald Soprano in an acting class in college. It was easy, light. Mean.

“I just don’t understand why I can’t see it on you.”

“Then you do need to talk about the dress.” And then, finally, she couldn’t help herself. “Because I would prefer not to.”

That “I would prefer not to” line was a stunner. Lars was so surprised by it he actually twitched. He stared at her. She could positively hear him thinking: Is she f*cking with me?

Is she indeed, thought Alison. She smiled at him, dazzling, and the questions about the dress went on and on and on. Eventually the subject mutated into a discussion about the color pink, is it pink that you object to or that specific pink (who said I objected to anything?), what color pink would you agree to wear if you were theoretically going to agree to wear pink? The rage behind the triviality of the discussion revealed itself in the sheer insulting relentlessness of it all. But Alison never faltered. How could she? The dress no longer existed. And there was simply no way on earth to explain to him why.





twenty-one





VAN WAS FINALLY HAPPY. Since Georgia’s birth, she had taken to wearing flowing white frocks, which made her look like a pre-Raphaelite goddess—a startling distance from when they first met, when contemporary fitted sweaters and narrow skirts showed off her figure. But the loose new look suited her. She was now letting her hair air-dry, so that it fell in untamed locks to her shoulders. The whole picture was stunning, frankly. And it was definitely easier to live with. The hardened determination which had ruled their lives for years seemed finally to have run its course. She was wistful and dear with the girls, kissing them and making much of Maggie’s small accomplishments, but not demanding her undivided attention with anywhere near the same ruthlessness as she had commanded in the past. She gave the baby up to Kyle regularly, with a surprising ease. For all his hours with the many patients who came through his office, he remained surprisingly awkward with his own children, but Van made no more cutting remarks about it. Rather, she would smile encouragement to him, touch him lightly on the shoulder, and move on.

It was a magnificent autumn day. They had gone to his parents’ for an early supper, and his father was taking advantage of the weather to grill hamburgers and hot dogs outside one last time before the winter frost set in. Van had brought special veggie burgers for Maggie, who was hopping up and down with delight while her grandpa fussed slowly around his rusted old Weber grill. Over the ironwork patio table, Kyle’s mom was carefully laying a tablecloth with a homey red-and-white check, which Kyle could swear he remembered from his boyhood. He suddenly felt strange and old. But when his mom turned to him, her face blossomed with delight.

“Give me that baby,” she laughed. “Oh, she’s so big! Goodness, you’re such a big girl.” She held the baby’s glorious little body up to her face. He thought his mother had never looked so lovely.

“Almost a year,” he agreed.

“Yes, she is a big girl, a whole year old! What will we do for your birthday? Maybe we can go to the zoo and see all the baby animals, the baby bunnies and the baby cows . . .” Maggie turned at this, jealous and interested.

“I want to go to the zoo and see the baby bunnies,” she informed them.

“Of course you’ll come, what fun would it be if you didn’t?” Grandma asked. “It would be no fun at all.”

Reassured, the child turned her attention back to her mother, who had stretched out in a lounge chair to enjoy the afternoon sun. Maggie had a spectacular red oak leaf in her hand, which she was presenting to Van as the treasure it was. “Look, Mommy,” she said.

“Oh, goodness, that is gorgeous. And so big!” Big was a big thing that day. Van took the leaf into her hands and showed Maggie how it was almost as big as her face. Maggie squealed with delight.

“We can’t wait to hear your news,” his mother told him. He looked at her, surprised, and found her positively bursting with smug, unspoken joy. She leaned in and kissed him on the cheek. “I am so glad that you and Van have worked things out,” she whispered. And with that, she cradled Georgia on her hip and sauntered over to the grill, to watch silly old Grandpa cook.

Kyle turned his gaze to Van and Maggie. Looking for more leaves, Maggie had skipped back to the one large tree that graced the suburban yard. Van followed her with her eyes, her left hand shielding her face from the afternoon sun. The white dress had settled; for once it wasn’t billowing around her like the sail of a boat. Lying there in the flickering afternoon light, she looked content, regal, a princess in repose. A thoroughly pregnant princess in repose. The flimsy dress, when it wasn’t billowing around, was revealing as hell.

He had known it intuitively for weeks. Her pale skin ripening like a rare peach, her energy shifting not away from the girls, but toward something more internal, something that demanded her secret attention. There were none of the usual telltale signs; if she was throwing up or eating weird things, she had managed to hide that business from him. But the dress asserted quite clearly that things were progressing on this front. She was a tiny person, and so she would show early, she was maybe three months along. But she was definitely pregnant.