“But I thought you didn’t want kids,” I said.
“We didn’t want kids right away ,” Annie said. “But we feel ready now. Although I guess you’re never completely ready!” She laughed in a high-pitched, school girlish way, her cheeks flushing pink.
“Hmm,” I said.
Ben kicked me under the table and said, “Well, congratulations, guys! This is awesome news.” Then he shot me a stern look and said, “Isn’t that wonderful news, Claudia?”
“Yes. Wonderful,” I said, but I couldn’t help feeling betrayed. Ben and I were going to lose our favorite traveling companions, our only close friends who were as unfettered as we were by babies and all their endless accoutrements.
We finished dinner, our conversation dominated by talk of children and Westchester real estate.
Later, when Ben and I were alone in our room, he chastised me for being so transparently unsupportive. “You could have at least pretended to be happy for them,” he said. “Instead of grilling them about birth control.”
“I was just so shocked,” I said. “Did you have any idea?”
Ben shook his head and with a fleeting expression of envy said, “No. But I think it’s great.”
“Don’t tell me you want them now, too?” I asked him, mostly joking.
Ben answered quickly, but his words registered flat and false. “Of course not,” he said. “Don’t be ridiculous.”
Over the next few months, things only got more troubling. Ben became all too interested in the progress of Annie’s pregnancy. He admired the ultrasound photos, even taping one to our refrigerator. I told him that we were not a “tape things to the refrigerator” kind of family.
“Jeez, Claudia. Lighten up,” Ben said, appearing agitated as he pulled down the murky black-and-white image and slapped it into a drawer. “You really should be happier for them. They’re our best friends, for chrissake.”
A short time after that, right before Annie and Ray had their baby, Ben and I planned a last-minute weekend getaway to the resort where we had been married. It was early January when the abrupt disappearance of Christmas decorations and tourists always makes Manhattan seem so naked and bleak, and Ben said he couldn’t wait until early March for our tentatively planned trip to Belize. I remember tossing some shorts and a new red bikini into my leather duffel and remarking how nice it was to have spontaneity in our relationship, the freedom to fly off at a moment’s notice.
Ben said, “Yes. There are some wonderful things about our life together.”
This sentence struck me as melancholy even ominous but I didn’t press him on it. I didn’t even pressure him to talk when he was uncharacteristically taciturn on our flight down to the Caribbean.
I didn’t really worry until later that night when we were settling into our room, unpacking our clothes and toiletries. I momentarily stopped to inspect the view of the sea outside our room, and as I turned back toward my suitcase, I caught a glimpse of Ben in the mirror. His mouth was curled into a remorseful frown. I panicked, remembering what my sister, Maura, once said about men who cheat. She is an expert on the topic as her husband, Scott, had been unfaithful with at least two women she knew of. “Look out if they’re really mean or really nice. Like if they start giving you flowers and jewelry for no reason,” she had said. “Or taking you away on a romantic getaway. It’s the guilt. They’re trying to make up for something.” I tried to calm down, telling myself that I was being paranoid. Ben and I always took spontaneous trips together; we never needed a reason.
Still, I wanted to dispel the lingering images of Ben pressed against a sweaty bohemian lover, so I sat on the bed, kicked off my flip-flops, and said, “Ben. Talk to me. What’s on your mind?”
He swallowed hard and sat next to me. The bed bounced slightly under his weight and the motion made me feel even more nervous.
“I don’t know how to say this,” Ben said, his voice cracking. “So I’ll just come out with it.”
I nodded, feeling queasy. “Go ahead.”
“I think I might want kids after all.”
I felt a rush of relief and even laughed out loud. “You scared me.” I laughed again, louder, and then opened a Red Stripe from the minibar.
“I’m serious, Claudia.”
“Where is all of this coming from? Annie and Ray?”
“Maybe. I don’t know. It’s just it’s just this feeling I have,” Ben said, making a fist over his heart.