The Year We Turned Forty (21 page)

Gabriela had picked at her chicken piccata while Claire went on and on about Emily, swirling her third glass of pinot grigio as she dissected her decision to punish her the way she had. Gabriela nodded in all the right places, but inside, she was wishing she had a daughter to complain about. She knew it was silly, that of course Claire had a right to be upset about Emily getting in trouble at school and deserved the chance to troubleshoot the situation from every angle. But still, Gabriela had a hard time listening to it when all she hoped for was a phone call to tell her she was going to have a baby, a baby that might one day bully someone, she didn't care. She'd deal with it then.

“Is it them?” Claire asked as Gabriela's phone started to vibrate.

Gabriela nodded.
Please
, she thought as she said hello and walked into the lobby of the hotel.

Claire watched Gabriela's face from afar, waiting for her to break into a grin, but instead, Gabriela's mouth turned from a forced smile into a grimace, her hand running through her hair as she paced back and forth, nearly colliding with a group of tourists returning from a day of sightseeing. Claire's throat constricted as she watched her hang up and throw the phone into the overstuffed leather seat next to her.

Claire walked over and wrapped her arms around Gabriela.

“It's not fair,” Gabriela said into Claire's shoulder.

“You're right, it's not,” Claire agreed. “It's not fair at all.”

“What's the point of all this? Why are we back here if it isn't to get the things we wanted?”

Claire had similar thoughts when her mom's doctor had told her the chemotherapy wasn't working as well as they would have hoped. They had caught it months earlier. Shouldn't that have meant they had a chance to beat it this time?

“So what do we do now?” Claire asked tentatively. “Overpay for bad movies in our room that we already watched ten years ago? I saw Oreos in the minibar.” Claire smiled hopefully. “And wine, if that's what you need.”

Gabriela shook her head and pointed to the bar lined with bottles. “
That
,” she said so softly that Claire had to lean in to hear her. “
That
is what I need. A stiff-ass drink.”

“Anything you want.” Claire steered her toward the bar.

The two women sat in silence after their dirty martinis were delivered, Gabriela absentmindedly chewing on a blue cheese olive. “Do you think I'm just not meant to be a mother?” Gabriela
finally asked, then quickly looked away as if she was afraid of the answer.

“Of course not!” Claire said. “There's still time, Gabs.”

“But think about it. For so many years, I didn't want kids. Maybe there's a reason for that. Maybe it was because I'm not supposed to have them, or because . . .” Gabriela paused and twisted her wedding ring around her finger. “I can't. Maybe my first instinct was the right one. That there was always a part of me that knew I couldn't, even if I tried.”

“That's ridiculous,” Claire said, hoping she sounded confident. “You didn't want them before for many reasons—the pain of losing your own mom and the writing career you were trying to get off the ground were both a big part of it. It's all about timing, and for whatever reason, your time didn't come before and it hasn't yet, but it will.”

“Did you read that somewhere? In one of those self-help books I've seen at your house?” Gabriela teased, taking a vigorous swig of her martini. “You sound like Colin's mom, Rowan. I swear, every other day a different motivational book shows up on my doorstep! I know she means well, but . . .”

“Hey, don't forget you owe her—she's the one who changed Colin's mind.”

Gabriela nodded in agreement, still very thankful to Rowan, then and now. She'd continued to be a huge advocate for Gabriela, sometimes to the point that Gabriela felt she wanted the baby more than her son did. But regardless, Gabriela was happy to have someone as obsessed with the process as she was.

“I don't mean to go all Rowan on you right now, but have you ever heard the expression
your baby will find you
?”

Gabriela nodded. “I want to believe that's true, but I think that's just an idea that women desperate to have children cling to.”

“You could be right,” Claire said. “But I really do believe that things happen for a reason.”

“Okay, then what's the reason we're all back in 2005? Because I know it's not for the peasant skirts!” Gabriela said, pulling at her paisley printed fabric.

“Or the baggy jeans!” Claire laughed. “I miss my skinnies!”

They laughed for several seconds, a welcome break from the sadness Gabriela's mood had brought on, until Gabriela drained her glass and leaned toward Claire. “Were our lives really so bad the year we turned forty? Because we've been back here over six months, and I won't speak for you, but I'd say mine is a hell of a lot worse.”

Claire thought about her next words carefully, remembering the conversation she'd had with her mom before she'd left for the airport. Mona was uncharacteristically energetic as she'd recounted an episode of
The Golden Girls
. And she'd laughed, a long, sturdy sound Claire had almost forgotten. “I don't know. Was it a good year for any of us? No. But I don't know if the point is to compare. Maybe we need to revise our definition of what
better
means,” Claire said, surprising herself with her optimism. But her mom's health was responsible, she realized now, even more than before, for teaching her how fleeting life was, how fragile.

“You sure you haven't been hanging out with Rowan?” Gabriela smiled and Claire felt herself breathe. She wanted her friend to be happy again. “Because that's pretty insightful for the person who was most skeptical about returning. Is it your mom?”

Claire nodded.

Gabriela's eyes watered and Claire felt a surge of guilt.

“I appreciate it so much, I do. I feel terrible that I get to see mine again and you don't.”

“It's okay,” Gabriela said, feeling her heart knot the way it
always did when she thought of her mother. “I'd have to be sixteen again, and, well, that would suck!” Gabriela smiled wistfully. “There's only so far back I'm willing to time travel.”

Claire put her hand over Gabriela's. “Here's the thing, Gabs. This is our life, our
only
life, as of right now, and will be for the next six months.” Claire prayed this would all make sense at some point.

“So there's still hope?”

“Of course,” Claire said, meaning it. There was always promise if you wanted there to be.

Gabriela squinted at Claire. “I think you'd say just about anything right now to cheer me up.” Gabriela grabbed a cocktail napkin and wiped away a tear from the corner of her right eye.

“Also true.” Claire smiled. “So from where I'm sitting, it looks like you have three choices,” Claire said, holding Gabriela's gaze.

“Okay, lay them on me.”

“You could give up.”

“I've never thought of myself as a quitter,” Gabriela said thoughtfully, and signaled the bartender for another round.

“You could keep trying.” Claire watched a light spark in Gabriela's eye and felt heartened. She still had some fight in her.

“It's just so hard. I feel like this is killing me.”

“I don't want to sit here and pretend I know what this feels like, because obviously I have no idea. But I still have to ask, are you ready to give up trying for a baby?”

Gabriela looked down at her hands. “I think I need to hear your third option first before I make my decision.”

Claire nodded at the new martinis the bartender had just placed in front of them. “You can drink.”

Gabriela clinked her glass against Claire's. “Tonight, I choose number three.”

“Okay. But will you promise to give option two some thought?”

“Yes,” Gabriela said, sliding the full martini glass closer to her and taking another sip, the vodka spilling carelessly over the top. “Now for the really hard part. I need to call my dad. And Colin.” She bit her lower lip. “I'll be back in a little bit.”

“Good luck,” Claire called after her.

“Thanks,” Gabriela said as she headed back into the lobby and sat on a couch in the corner. As she dialed her father's number, she remembered the first time she'd talked to him after traveling back here, when she'd announced that she and Colin were going to try to get pregnant. The tears she heard in his voice buoyed her in a way she hadn't been expecting. And when he'd said,
Your mother would be so happy,
she knew then that she couldn't fail. She had to do this. Not just for herself and Colin, but for her father. She exhaled deeply now when his voice mail picked up, his heavily accented English, even after so many years in the States, comforting her. She closed her eyes and soaked in his deep voice before clearing her throat and leaving a message that the in vitro hadn't worked, then lied and said she'd be fine and would call him when she returned from New York. Next she dialed Colin's number as she absentmindedly rubbed the knot forming in her neck. He answered on the first ring. “Did you hear?” he asked before she could speak.

“We're not,” Gabriela said, barely able to get the words out.

“I'm so sorry, Gabs.”

Their connection was silent for several seconds, Gabriela observing a husband and wife and two young children bounding into the lobby, unwrapping their scarves and giggling about the double-decker bus they'd ridden on earlier, the younger child pulling on his father's hand until he lifted him effortlessly onto
his broad shoulders. Finally, Gabriela spoke. “I'm not so sure we should try again. Maybe this has all been a mistake,” Gabriela said, not sure it had been a mistake at all, but badly needing to know what Colin believed.

“Whatever you think. I support you,” Colin said.

Did she hear relief in his voice?

“This isn't just for me, Colin. It's supposed to be for
us
.”

“I know that.” Colin sighed. “I'm just trying to be understanding. I know how hard this must be for you.”

“And what about for
you
? You act like I'm doing this alone!” Gabriela accused.

“Of course you aren't doing this by yourself,” Colin said. “But I had accepted a life without kids. So I think if it's meant to be, it will be. And if it's not, we'll be just fine.”

“Do you really mean that?” Gabriela waited for Colin to respond, watching a little girl swirling a wand high above her head.

“We were happier.”

“What did you say?”

“I said we were happier, things were better. Now you're stressed out all the time and constantly pissed at me.”

Gabriela softened slightly. “It's not me, it's the—”

“The drugs, I know.”

“You say that like me being on fertility drugs annoys you.”

“Well, it's a lot to deal with.”

“And so is trying to get pregnant!”

“Gabs.”

“Just say it. Say you don't care if we can't conceive.” Gabriela wished with every breath in her body that he'd deny it, tell her she had it wrong, that he wanted this as much as she did. But she already knew he didn't. And she was also certain that she cared more about having a child than
anything
else right now.
She had told Claire that she didn't know, but she did. She knew with every fiber of her being. Her choice was number two. To keep trying.

“I have to go. I'll call you tomorrow,” she said quickly and ended the call, not wanting to decide right now what their fate was, not here in the lobby of the Sheraton as the perfect children she spied earlier danced in circles around their parents to music only they could hear.

•  •  •

“How did it go?” Claire smiled hopefully as Gabriela slid onto the bar stool.

“He seemed fine. Almost relieved!” Gabriela's eyes were brimming with tears. “I'm so sick of this. Sick of crying. Sick of being disappointed. Sick of arguing.”

“I'm sorry,” Claire said, not knowing what else to offer.

“He just doesn't get it. He acts like I'm doing this alone. Like it's
my
problem!”

“What did he say exactly?” Claire asked.

“That if it was meant to be it would be. Almost as bad as your,
your baby will find you
bullshit!”

Claire paused, not sure if Gabriela was joking or lashing out. “Maybe he was trying to be helpful?” she said carefully.

“Oh, God, Claire. Please don't defend him. I don't need you to be the voice of reason right now. I need you to be on
my
side!”

Claire drained the last of her martini before responding. She'd watched Gabriela slowly disintegrate the past few months, until she was just a hairline fracture away from a full break. “Listen, I'm not defending him, but clearly you're upset. He's probably just being cautious in case—”

“In case what?”

“I just mean he's probably trying to protect himself. He wanted kids for a long time.”

“I'm aware, Claire,” Gabriela said tightly.

“You said you needed me on your side, Gabs. And, I am. But I just don't want you to be angry with
him
because
you're
not pregnant.”

“I'm not. I'm pissed at him because
he doesn't care that I'm not pregnant
and maybe that means something.”

“What are you saying?”

“That if he doesn't want the same things I do, maybe I should just go at this alone.”

Claire tried to smother the flash of anger she felt. Being a single mom was the hardest thing she'd ever done. If she'd had a man like Colin, she would have never let him go. “You don't mean that.”