Chapter One
To: [email protected]
From: [email protected]
Re: Awesome news!
Date: Sun, 28 Jun 1998 09:35:42
Dear Mom,
Keith and I figured we'd better e-mail our big news so
you'd have a chance to digest it before we talk, but he's
still at work and I can't wait another second to tell you.
Keith asked me to marry him! it happened yesterday right
after he finished the Seattle-Portland bike race! I saw
him ride through the tape at the finish line, so I elbowed
my way through the crowd to hug his sweaty body. Just as I
got to him, the announcer yelled, "Keith Roche, twenty-
eight and a first-timer from Seattle finishing in one day!
Keith has a very important question to ask Rebecca
Barrett." I thought I was hearing things. Keith got down
on one knee and said, "Rebecca, will you marry me!" right
there in front of everybody! He didn't even take off his
helmet. It was totally awesome. All the guys he trains
with were there with their girlfriends or wives. They were
taking pictures. They all knew he was going to propose.
Can you believe Louise and I drove to Portland together
and she never said a word? Anyway, we're getting married
out here in January, during my mid-term break. It's so
happening.
But that's not all! Are you sitting down? We're having a
baby. Mark says you'll be psyched. But if I know you,
you'll be worried about how we're going to make it. Don't
get your undies in a wad, Mom. Everything's cool. Anyway,
gotta study. Summer school is really condensed. We'll call
Monday around seven our time 'cause I have to work
tonight. That way you'll just be getting home from your
evening class.
Love,Rebecca
For thefirst time in fifteen years, I wanted a cigarette.
This was a moment beyond chocolate. When Sol walked into
the room ten minutes later, I was still sitting at the
computer, staring at the monitor, tears streaming down my
face. "Jesus, Bel, what's wrong?" In a few strides, Sol
was by my side, reading over my shoulder as I leaned my
head against him. "Okay. I get it. She really caught you
off-guard, didn't she?" I nodded, allowing him to pull me
to my feet. "Come on. Sinatra Drive's closed to traffic on
summer Sundays. Let's go for a walk. You just need a few
minutes to get used to Rebecca's news. Come on."
Sol believed a walk along what was left of Hoboken's
waterfront was the cure for everything from IRS audits to
prostate trouble, hot flashes, and mood swings. And
usually I too found even a glimpse of the Manhattan
skyline therapeutic. But this time even those spires
glittering like marcasite in the June sunshine failed to
raise my spirits. As I trudged silently beside him, Sol
gently pressed me, "So what's bothering you? Rebecca and
Keith have been living together for a few years now,
right? They're clearly nuts about each other. And you told
me last time you were out there that you thought they were
in it for the long haul. And I know you like Keith. So are
these tears of happiness, or what?"
"She didn't even tell me. I thought we were so close." I
let go of Sol's hand to swab my face with a soggy
Kleenex. "Even Mark knew about the baby. Andthey've
decided everything already." I snorted miserly, into the
wadded Kleenex and jammed it into the pocket of my khaki
shorts, a pair Rebecca had pickedout for me the last time
we'd gone shopping together. I could feel my throat
tighten and new tears forming.
Oh now I see where you're coming from. Jesus, Bel, get
over it. This is not about you. It's got nothing to with
you. It's not even about you and Rebecca. It's about
Rebecca and Keith and their baby." Sol's words were harsh,
but he grabbed my hand again. He was used to my bratty
bouts of narcissism. "Besides, she's probably not more
than a few months pregnant. What did you want her to do, e-
mail you at the moment of conception?" We had paused at
Frank Sinatra Park, Hoboken's new athletic field, a square
patch of green partly edged by a brick walkway overlooking
the Hudson and the world's most famous skyline. Leaning on
the fence and shading his eyes from the glare of the sun
on the water, Sol asked, "Want an iced tea or something?"
He jerked head in the direction of the snack bar that was
crowded with young people in running clothes. A leggy
blond with a long ponytail carrying a cup of coffee
andSunday Times was striding over to a table. For a second
she looked exactly like Rebecca. But no, my daughter was
three thousand miles away. Damn.
"No thanks. Listen Sol, I don't want to beat this to
death, but what am I anyway? The proverbial chopped
liver?" Sol put his arm around my shoulder and pulled me
to him. "They probably named the baby already too." I was
still pouting in that la-la land somewhere between anguish
and acceptance where mothers of adult kids spend a lot of
time. "Besides, you know as well as I do that this is
ludicrous. Rebecca has another whole year to go in
physical therapy school and Keith. . ." I sputtered,
picturing my future son-in-law, whose idea of career
planning was getting work that didn't interfere with his
training. He lived and breathed to qualify for the Ironman
Triathlon in Hawaii. At the moment he worked in a bicycle
shop and spent most of his spare time running, biking, and
swimming. Rebecca attended classes by day and waited
tables weekends and some evenings. "Listen, Sol, I know
what I'm talking about here. I see how some of my students
struggle. They can't afford good child care. They have to
work to pay the bills. They have no time to study."