Finding Bliss (18 page)

Cam lifted his feet and rested the heels of his shoes on my desktop. “Talk about fancy: look at you with your own office and everything.”

I looked around at my office. It wasn’t big, but it was mine. The firm I worked for looked more like an advertising agency than a law office. There were glass walls and furniture from Design Within Reach and Room & Board. Books and law journals were housed in white laminate cabinets instead of dark oak shelves and dusty bookcases. Marble floors and brightly lit corridors replaced Berber carpet and green desktop bankers’ lamps. Some clients didn’t trust a lawyer without a three-piece suit and a cigar, but most of mine appreciated our contemporary look.

“Can I take you to dinner tonight?” he asked.

“As long as you don’t mind eating dinner at nine o’clock. I have a few things to wrap up before I can get out of here.”

“Nine o’clock is good. Steaks or sushi?”

“Sushi sounds great. There’s a spot a few blocks from here.”

He pulled his feet off the desk and reached over to pat me on the knee. “I’ll be back at nine to pick you up.”

“I’ll meet you down in the lobby. The building locks the elevators to guests at seven o’clock.”

“The lobby it is.”

When Cam left, I was just reaching for my phone to call Tyler and let him know I wouldn’t be home for dinner, when it occurred to me that he hadn’t called to ask about the doctor’s appointment. I held my cell phone in my hand and slid back down into the chair. He should have called.

By seven o’clock I’d answered over one hundred e-mails and listened to forty-three voice mails. Although Rachel left every day at
six, the office was still filled with people, and most of the attorneys stayed well past nine each night. Just before I was about to head down to the lobby, Robert stuck his head into my office to say good night.

“You heading out soon?” he asked.

“I am, actually. A friend from law school is in town, and we’re going to grab dinner.”

“Nice,” he said, adjusting the strap of his computer case on his shoulder. “I filed the
Anderson
papers, and I can call Kimberly James tomorrow if you’d like, so she’ll back off.”

“Pfft,” I said as I threw my phone, lip gloss, and wallet into my purse. “I don’t think anything will make her back off.”

Robert stood in the doorway, watching me gather my stuff. He looked as though he had something else to tell me.

“Was there something else?” I asked.

“Well, it’s just that…yeah, I do have some news to share.”

I stopped what I was doing and put my hands on my hips. “So help me God, if you are leaving me…”

He let out a small awkward laugh indicating this was hard for him. “I’m not leaving you or the firm. In fact, I need my job now more than ever.” He paused. “Madison is pregnant.”

The look on his face killed me. Not because he and Madison had what I wanted, but because he was so hesitant to tell me. That he knew how much I was struggling and how hard it was for me to hear the good news and be happy for them. For Robert and Madison and for everyone else who was able to procreate without injections and blood work and ultrasounds and condescending physicians. The thing was, I was happy for them, just also sad for me.

I dropped my hands from my hips and clasped them in front of my chest. “Robert, I couldn’t be happier for you. I can tell by that
look on your face that you didn’t want to tell me, and I hate myself for that.”

He smiled. “No, I knew you’d be excited for us. I just didn’t want to break the news this morning as you were on your way out the door to the fertility clinic.”

I stepped out from behind my desk and gave him a professionally acceptable congratulatory hug.

“When is she due?” I asked, pulling away.

“Around Thanksgiving.”

“Lots to be thankful for, Rob. Please give her a big hug for me.”

“Consider it done.”

As I was waiting for the elevator to head downstairs, I got a call from Tyler.

“Hi, honey,” I answered.

“How’d the appointment go?”

I gently shook my head. “It was hours ago, Ty.”

“I know, I’m so sorry. I knew you were going to be mad.”

“I’m not mad, I’m disappointed. This is a huge deal, and my work isn’t any less demanding than yours. I just need to know you’re going to be with me on this from here on out. I’m going to have to give myself injections and be at the clinic every other day once we get started. It’s going to be very taxing on both of us.”

“I know, and I love you. I’m so sorry about today. You know I am.”

I sighed. “I know,” I assured him. “Robert and Madison are expecting.”

“That’s great news…you okay?”

Tyler more than anyone knew how I grappled with people’s baby news. One day we’d received two invitations to different one-year-olds’ birthday parties in the mail. I cried when I saw them sitting on our hall table. One invitation was jungle-themed
with the sweetest picture of a baby lion cub, and the other was bright pink and glittery. My stomach sank before I was overcome with guilt. Why couldn’t I be happy for people anymore? Why was my immediate reaction to recoil and drink a self-loathing smoothie? Ever since then, I’d put Tyler in charge of opening the mail and had him RSVP no to anything that arrived in a pastel envelope.

“I’m fine. I felt like such a jerk, though, because I could tell Robert was reticent to give me the good news. I’ve turned into this horrible bitch who hates pregnant women.”

“Come home,” he said.

“I can’t. Cameron is in town, and I’m meeting him for dinner,” I said.

“What’s he doing here?”

“Some work thing.”

“I’m not invited?”

It hadn’t occurred to me to invite Tyler. “Come meet us,” I suggested. “We’re grabbing sushi, which I know isn’t your favorite…”

“I’m teasing, Chloe; go have fun and say hello for me.”

“Okay, see you later, love you.”

“Love you.”

I met Cam in the lobby, and we jumped in a cab and went to Naniwa on North Wells Street. As soon as we sat down, he ordered a large hot sake and a scallop appetizer.

“So you’re doing IVF,” he said, pouring the sake into tiny ceramic glasses that looked like they belonged to a child’s tea set.

“We are,” I said.

“You are.”

“Tyler and I are doing IVF.”

He crossed his arms and leaned back in his chair. “I hate when people say, ‘we’re expecting’ when it’s really just
her
that’s expecting.
Please, do me a favor: when you get pregnant, just tell people that
you’re
expecting.”

I raised a brow and held it there. “When and if I get pregnant, I’m going to tell everyone that Tyler and I are expecting, and every time I do, I’m going to smile and think of how annoyed you’d be.”

He shrugged. “So what are you hoping for, boy or girl? And don’t just say a healthy baby.”

“Let me guess, you hate when people do that too?” I asked. “At this point, I’m just hoping to get pregnant. Aside from work, it’s all I talk about, think about, read about, and dream about. I thought a person could simply have sex with their husband to make a baby, but apparently my middle school P.E. teacher was a big fat liar.”

“Mine was a big, fat retired army sergeant who hated skinny, smart kids.”

“Sounds like we’re even then,” I said. “Are you going to order for us?” Cam always liked to order for the table. Whether there were two or twelve people out to dinner, he reveled in that responsibility.

We sat for two hours reliving old stories about our grueling law school days and swapping new stories about our respective careers. Cam could work from anywhere and was itching to move again.

“Do you think you’ll ever come back here to Chicago?”

He shrugged. “It gets too cold here, but we’ll see. Maybe when you have a kid. Someone’s going to have to teach it how to play Minecraft.”

Once we were through, he ordered another large sake and the check.

“I can’t tell you how great it is to see you, Cam. Have you got your sights set on any lucky girls out west?”

“A few.”

“No one worth mentioning?”

“Not really,” he said. “I’m still sorry I missed your wedding by the way. Did you get my gift?”

Cam had sent Tyler and me our most original gift. A blown-out ostrich egg, said to bring good luck and prosperity into the home. “Of course I did. Didn’t you get my thank-you note?”

“I may have. How’s the egg working for you?”

“Pretty well, actually.”

Cam and I walked out to the street, and he hailed two cabs. One to take me to the train, and one to take him back to his hotel. We embraced, and the smell of him instantly took me back to a time I remembered fondly—when I’d felt so much more relaxed and like my real self.

“Thanks, Cam.”

“Anytime.”

A week later a package arrived for me at the office with a card attached that read
Try these. —Love, Cam.

Rachel helped me open the large box, and we discovered a pair of heavy iron candlesticks with an image of a flutist just beneath the candle plate.

“What is it?” I asked.

“Kokopelli,” she said, reading a small pamphlet that she’d pulled out of the box. “Says here that he’s the God of Fertility. Who’s Cam?”

I lifted one of them out of the box, tilted my head, and smiled. “Just a really great friend.”

I
was scheduled to begin my IVF shots the second week of July, so Tyler and I decided to take his parents up on their invitation to spend the Fourth of July weekend with them in Lake Geneva beforehand. We arrived at the house around six o’clock that Friday, with dessert and wine in hand. Tyler and I had wanted to get a room at the Grand Geneva for the weekend, but his mother insisted we stay at the house with them. Sammy and Sarah, who had just turned sixteen, had each brought a friend, so that made for eight people in a four-bedroom house.

Time spent at the Reeds’ home in Lake Geneva was always a respite for me. I’d fallen in love and gotten married there, and I breathed easily and slept soundly in that house for the most part. Tyler’s mom made dinner that first night and served it out on the patio. The table was laden with a feast of oven-fried chicken (she’d given up panfrying it in grease after reading an article about Paula Deen being diagnosed with type 2 diabetes), mashed potatoes, summer squash, and macaroni and cheese.

“How is work going, Tylah?” his mother asked after everyone had sat down and filled their plates.

“It’s going good; we got two new clients last week. Some record label and a division of Kellogg’s that’s introducing a new zombie cereal for kids called Brain Berry. Their tagline is ‘Bringing breakfast back to life.’”

“Zombie cereal. Well, I nevah. Did you hear that dear?” she asked Dr. Reed, who looked up from his iPad.

“What’s that?” he asked.

“Tylah has two new clients.”

Dr. Reed nodded in approval and grabbed a roll.

“Did I tell you that Mitch and Hollis just got engaged?” he asked his mother.

“I did not know that. How lovely. She’s seems like such an interesting girl.”

“She’s really great,” I chimed in.

“When’s the weddin’?”

“He mentioned something about getting married in Vegas. I think they’re going to do a small ceremony out there in a few months,” Tyler said. “Work’s been crazy though, so I’m not sure when he’s going to be able to get away.”

Tyler’s mom gently slapped the tabletop. “I’m so tickled to hear how busy you are; that’s just wonderful news. Isn’t it, Chloe?”

I looked up from the chicken leg I was gnawing on and wiped my chin. “Yes, it’s fantastic,” I said and leaned in to give Tyler a greasy kiss. “I’m so proud of him. He’s worked really hard for this.”

“And how is work going for you, dear? You poor thing, you hardleh have time to cook a proper meal for your husband with those long hours.”

A foot-long sub and a bag of Baked Lay’s seemed proper enough to me. I cleared my throat and heard Grace’s voice in my head.
Just ignore her
. So I tried, and changed the subject.

“We’re starting our IVF treatments next month,” I said excitedly.

Dixie Reed tilted her head and studied me. She raised a finger to her lips and narrowed her eyes. I glanced at Tyler when she failed
to comment, but he was on his fourth piece of chicken, texting someone.

“What’s that?” Sarah asked me, and I nearly reached out and hugged her for breaking the silence. But before I could answer, her mom finally spoke.

“I’m sure Chloe doesn’t want to discuss that type of thing at the dinnah table.”

“Oh, I don’t mind,” I said and turned to Sarah. “It’s a fertility treatment we’re doing to help us have a baby.”

Mrs. Reed stood and gathered her plate. “Who would like some warm homemade apple pie and vanilla bean ice cream?” she asked. “Sarah, darling, please clear the dishes.”

I rolled my eyes and mouthed to Sarah quietly. “I’ll tell you more later.”

Sarah and her friend cleared the table, and I went inside to rinse everything in the sink. Mrs. Reed came in as I was putting the glasses back in the cabinet.

“Chloedear, we always want to put the glasses upside down on a shelf; nevah right-side up.” She corrected me from behind and walked out.

“I’m excited for you and Tyler to have a baby,” Sarah said to me.

“Me, too. Can we count on you to babysit?”

“I would love that! Can I?”

“Of course you can.”

By the time we’d finished with dessert and cleanup, the kids had retired to their rooms with their friends and their iPhones. Teenagers require nothing more.

I was exhausted, but had two motions to write by Monday, so I went to the foyer where I’d left my computer case. When I turned around, I found Mrs. Reed right behind me.

“I thought we could have a little chat,” she said with her Betty Boop lashes all a flutter.

“Of course.”

Nothing ever changed in that house, which was one of the things I loved most about it. The white wicker furniture, the talking pillows, the squeaky floorboards on the screened-in porch, and Dixie being condescending. I followed her to the exact spot where she’d warned me to stay away from her son years earlier. The irony of him being my husband now made me smile as we sat down across from each other. I’d changed so much during that time, while she hadn’t changed one bit.