“Again? You okay?”
“Mmm hmm.” I force a sunny smile, which just makes my head pound even more insistently. I get up to brush my teeth and swallow three Advil, then I crawl back into bed, hoping I’ll have time to close my eyes for a few minutes before I have to be up, just in case.
But Dan wraps his arms around me and presses his body into mine. “What time do you have to be at work?” he asks, his voice low and suggestive.
I glance at the clock, my hopes of falling back asleep fading. My first appointment isn’t for ninety minutes, so I tell him, “I’ve got time,” because I feel guilty that I spent the night hoping desperately to wake up with another man.
We make love slowly, lazily, and I manage somehow not to think about Patrick at all until Dan gets up to go take a shower. As I lie in bed alone, my head still aching, I feel my eyes filling with tears. I quickly wipe them away and get out of bed to begin getting dressed.
Fifteen minutes later, Dan and I kiss good-bye at the front door, but he grabs my arm as I begin to walk out. “Kate?” he says tentatively. “Is something up? It feels like you’re somewhere else today.”
I haven’t told him about my infertility yet, but now isn’t the right time, not when I’m on my way out the door, not when
my head is still swirling with thoughts of Patrick. I’ll tell him tonight, after dinner, and it will all be okay.
I take a deep breath. “No, I’m fine.”
He looks into my eyes. “You sure? You’re not yourself.”
I’m still mulling over Dan’s words—and the fact that he’s right—as I arrive at my office. Dina asks if I’m feeling better, and I mumble an excuse about nausea, because I
am
feeling ill. Liquor and confusion will do that to you. Her eyes light up.
“Maybe you’re pregnant!” she says in a stage whisper.
“Doubt it,” I say, avoiding her gaze and reaching for my flat belly. I hurry into my office to prepare for a long day in which I don’t have to think about my own life at all.
I
’m just packing up my bag a few minutes after five when my sister strides into my office, a binder in her arms and a determined expression on her face.
“What are you doing here?” I ask, because she’s only been to my office once in the five years I’ve worked here. “Are the kids okay?”
“They’re with Robert,” she says. She holds out the binder. “You and I are going to Hammersmith’s to plan your wedding.”
I feel my headache returning as I take the binder from her. It says
Mrs.
on the front in glittery script. “I told Dan I’d make dinner tonight.”
“It’s just for an hour,” she says. “You can bring him takeout.”
“Susan—”
“Look.” Her tone is instantly businesslike. “You’re freaked out about this engagement. I know. It totally explains the dream. But I think that if we start planning the wedding, you’ll start feeling better. The more real it feels, the more you’ll be able to detach from the past. Okay?”
I eye her. “You talked to your therapist about this, didn’t you?” Susan sees a therapist every Thursday afternoon, although I’ve never understood why. Her life is perfect. What could she have to talk about?
She shrugs. “She agreed with me that getting you to focus on the present will help. So are you in? Or do I have to drink alone?”
I sigh. I might as well seize the opportunity to try out the speech I’m planning to give Dan tonight about my infertility. And I need to tell Susan anyhow. “Are you buying?”
Ten minutes later, we’re settling into our usual booth at Hammersmith’s, the British pub down the street from my office where we’ve been meeting for happy hour every few weeks for years. Our regular bartender, Oliver, comes over with a chardonnay for Susan and a Guinness for me, but I make a gagging gesture and order a Sprite instead.
“I need to tell you something,” I say once she’s taken a long sip of her drink. “I haven’t told Dan yet.”
“Told him what?” She laughs. “You sound so serious.”
I give her a look. She’s always been terrible at reading me, but I’m blown away that she can’t see pain written across my face right now. “Susan, it
is
serious. I can’t have a baby. I found out from the doctor a few days ago. My ovaries have stopped producing eggs.”
“Oh.” She stares at me for a minute. “Well, I’m sorry to hear that.”
It’s not exactly the reaction I was expecting. I’d anticipated tears or immediate consolation. Instead, she just looks puzzled. “That’s it?” I ask.
“It’s just that I didn’t know you wanted kids,” she says, avoiding my gaze. “I mean, if you were trying to get pregnant, I could see how this would be devastating. But you’re forty, so I just kind of figured . . .”
“What, that I don’t have the right to want a child?” I snap, interrupting her. “Because I didn’t do it on the same schedule you did?”
She shrugs, unperturbed. “No. I’m just saying that forty’s a little late in the game to be making up your mind about it, isn’t it? I just assumed that you and Dan had already made the decision. You’re saying you didn’t?”
I glare at her. “
No
. And forty isn’t old.”
“I’m not saying it’s old, obviously. I’m two years older than you are.”
“Two years and ten months,” I mutter.
She gives me a dark look. “Right. But I had Calvin and Sammie in my thirties, because it’s safer that way, Kate. Surely you’ve seen the statistics. It’s much healthier for both mother and baby if you have your children before forty.”
“Well, gee,” I say faux sweetly, “I’m so sorry I didn’t start dating Dan in time to suit your baby-making schedule.”
“I’m just saying that you basically spent your thirties with your head buried in the sand, obsessing over Patrick. Look at Gina; she moved on, didn’t she? If you’d wanted a child, you should have seized the opportunity while you still had the chance.”
I stare at her as my chest grows tight with anger. “It doesn’t work like that, Susan. I couldn’t just snap my fingers and be okay. You have no idea what it feels like to lose a husband.”
“No, I don’t. But I know that Dan’s a good guy. And you could really screw things up if you start obsessing about babies and fertility now when it’s not even something you really want.”
“How do you know whether it’s something I want?” I demand, my voice rising an octave. Out of the corner of my eye, I see Oliver glance at us with concern.
“Well, is it?” she asks. “Do you want to have a baby?”
“Yes! Maybe. I don’t know.” I avoid looking at her, because I’m sure she’s wearing her infuriating I-knew-I-was-right expression. “It’s just that I’m not ready for that decision to be made for me.”
“Kate,” Susan says, and her tone is gentler than it was a moment ago. “Can you really imagine Dan as a father?”
“Of course!”
“But he hates my kids,” she says softly.
“What? He doesn’t hate them!”
“Okay, maybe he doesn’t
hate
them. But he doesn’t like them either. Have you ever seen him interact with them when he doesn’t absolutely have to?”
I open my mouth to defend him, but I realize I can’t think of a single time I’ve ever seen him exchange more than awkward, obligatory hellos with my niece and nephew. “He’s just not comfortable around them,” I finally say. “He’s not used to kids.”
“Sweetie, he doesn’t
like
kids,” she says. “So if you’re worried about how he’s going to react to your news, don’t be.”
“Really?” I ask. I can feel some of the tension drain from my shoulders. But at the same time, there’s a knot forming in the pit of my stomach.
“I’m absolutely positive he’s going to be fine with it,” she says firmly. She waits until I look up to add the rest. “But the question is, are you?”
She waits a beat before clapping her hands together once and smiling. “Now. Let’s get down to wedding talk, shall we?”
I stare at her. “Are you kidding?”
She looks blank. “Why would I be?”
I clench my jaw. “Look, thanks for doing this, Susan. The wedding binder—it’s a good idea. But I really need to talk to Dan before we dive into all this planning, okay? Say hi to the kids for me.”
I drop a ten-dollar bill on the table and walk away before she can respond.
Outside, I head downtown. The longer I walk, though, the worse I feel. Sure, Susan doesn’t quite get me, but her heart’s in the right place most of the time. After a minute, I pull out my phone and call her, intending to apologize, but she doesn’t pick up. I start to put the phone away, but then I retrieve it from my bag and dial Gina instead.
“So how did you do it?” I ask when she answers.
“Hello to you too.” I can hear the smile in her voice. “Okay. I’ll bite. How did I do what?”
“Put Bill behind you,” I say in a small voice. “Move on. Get married to someone else. Have a child with someone else.”
“Oh,” she says sadly. She and her husband Wayne have a three-year-old daughter named Madison now. “You just have to think of it as a different life,” she says after a minute. “Maybe not the life you were intended to have, or even the life you
thought
you were intended to have. But it’s still
your
life, just like the old one was.”
I absorb this for a second. “Do you still miss Bill?”
“Every day. But not as much as I used to.”
I contemplate telling her about how vividly I saw Patrick, but I know it’ll sound crazy. It probably
is
crazy. “Was I wrong to say yes to Dan?” I ask her instead. “When there’s still a part of me that’s in love with Patrick?”
“No,” she says firmly. “You’ll always love Patrick. And that’s okay. You just have to keep reminding yourself that he’s not here anymore.”
“But what if he is?” I whisper.
“What?”
I hesitate. “I just don’t think I know how to let him go.”
I
use the remainder of the walk home to think. New York is swarming with people, but there’s something about walking down a crowded street that can feel almost peaceful and solitary. I don’t make eye contact or talk to anyone, and by the time I get to our apartment, I feel like I’ve spent the last twenty minutes in a silent bubble.
Dan’s in the kitchen, drinking a glass of red wine, when I walk in the door. “You okay, babe?” he asks. “Susan called and said you seemed upset. She’s worried about you.”
“I’m fine,” I say. I force a smile. “Really. Thanks, sweetheart.”
He sets his glass down on the counter and crosses the room to pull me into a hug. “So? How’s my beautiful bride-to-be? I heard you and Susan got together today and talked wedding planning?”
“A little,” I say, and he smiles at me.
“Hey, I don’t want you to stress out about any of this,” he continues. “There’s no rush. I know some brides go kind of overboard with the details, but I don’t want to add anything to your plate. How can I help?”
“You really are perfect, aren’t you?” I say with a sigh. “But really, don’t worry. I’m not that kind of bride.”
“Well, I took care of dinner tonight, anyhow, so that’s one less thing on your plate,” he says, and I feel terrible. I was supposed to cook. The doorbell rings, as if on cue. “That must be the delivery guy.”
Ten minutes later, Dan has set the dining room table, lit two taper candles, and plated our Chinese takeout to make the whole meal look like a fine dining experience.
“Only you would serve take-out lo mein on fine china,” I say, shaking my head with a smile.
“Healthy vegetarian lo mein,” he clarifies. He pours me a glass of Bordeaux and kisses me on the top of my head. “Nothing but the best for my girl.”
“I have to tell you something,” I say after we’ve taken the first few bites of our food. “I went to the doctor a few days ago.” I watch his face closely. “My ovaries aren’t producing eggs anymore. I—we—won’t be able to have a baby.”
“Kate—” He reaches for me, but I’m not done yet.
“Do you still want to marry me? I mean, I know we haven’t talked about this before, but if this changes things . . .”
He stares at me for a moment as my heart thuds. Then he leans across the table and kisses me. “Of
course
I want to marry you, Kate.” He pauses and adds, “It’s fine. It’ll just be us. We don’t need to have children to be happy.” He smiles broadly, comfortingly.
But my stomach rolls uncomfortably, and I blink a few times. “We could adopt,” I venture.
He shrugs. “Babe, maybe being parents just isn’t in the cards for us. Stop worrying about it. This isn’t your fault.” Then, before I have a chance to say anything else, he switches tracks entirely. “So did you and Susan make any decisions about wedding venues today?” he asks. “Your sister said she had a whole binder of ideas, and I thought some of the outside locations might be nice for the fall . . .”
I shrug, and as he continues to talk, I tune him out and focus on the wall behind him, trying not to cry.
That night, Dan sleeps peacefully beside me while I stare at the ceiling, thinking of the way Patrick and I used to lie in bed, talking about what we’d name our kids, all the fun things we’d do as a family, and the life we were so sure we’d create together.
For the first time, I find myself wondering if I’ve traded all those things away without realizing it. Maybe it’s too late to find my way back to the kind of life I thought I would have. Finally, I drift off into an uneasy sleep.
Six
W
hen I wake up the next morning, I know instantly that I’m back in my old apartment again, back in the strange, overly bright world I can’t explain. I gasp, close my eyes, and murmur a small prayer of thanks, even though this might just mean I’m losing my mind. When I crack my eyes open again, the sunlight is catching a few particles of dust in the air. I turn my head slightly to find Patrick lying next to me.
For a moment, I don’t move. I just study him as his chest rises and falls. I don’t know I’m crying until my vision gets blurry. As I sit up to wipe away my tears, Patrick stirs and rolls toward me.
“Good morning, Katielee,” he says, and it’s still his voice, his green eyes with the crinkles at the corners, his wide smile with the slightly crooked bottom row of teeth.