And please use a toner on that greasy face of yours.
Jacqueline chimes in on my behalf. “Well, I loved the writing. It was very vivid and descriptive without being overwritten And the story was riveting. I had a vicious hangover all day on Sunday and I couldn’t stop paging through it.”
Everyone laughs because Jacqueline is known to overindulge when we go out for drinks after work.
Sam says, “Well, I agree with Jacqueline that the writing was descriptive and vivid but there was something about the book that just felt small .”
It feels pretty damning when Sam calls a book small so now I’m beginning to worry. As I’m grappling for a retort, Richard removes the pen cap from his mouth, and says, “Claudia, tell us, did the author actually move to France?”
I shake my head. I know he is driving at review angles.
“So, unfortunately, we wouldn’t be able to get nonfiction, feature coverage for her, but it still sounds good to me. I can picture a great cover on it Besides, I think Claudia’s track record speaks for itself. Close calls should go to her.”
All eyes are on Richard. He doesn’t speak often in meetings, but his opinion carries great weight so I feel pretty sure he’s tipped the balance in my favor. Sure enough, Sam calls a vote, and my proposal passes by a narrow margin.
I look at Richard who gives me a quick, surreptitious wink.
I think to myself, Omigod, did I just get ahead at work because of sex ?
I’m not sure of the answer, but it suddenly strikes me that there is a mighty thin line between a wholesome life and a scandalous one.
I call Daphne as soon as I return to my office. She is in the car, alone, on her way to the grocery store.
“How did it go?” I say.
“It went. Apparently he delivered a few sperm,” she says caustically. “With the help of coeds Shari and Shelli.”
“And the verdict?”
“The tests take a few days But what’s another few days when you’ve been waiting a decade to have a baby, right?”
I want to point out that she hasn’t really been waiting a decade. You can’t count the years of not trying. Of wearing condoms, taking the pill, and “pulling and praying,” Daphne and Tony’s method of choice during their impoverished, ramen-noodle college days.
“You’ll get to the bottom of this soon,” I say as I glance down at my cuticles and make a mental note to get a manicure before I see Richard again.
I listen to Daphne start ranting about an elderly driver not using his turn signal. Ever since an old man plowed into several schoolchildren at a crosswalk in our hometown last year, Daphne routinely scribbles down license plates and reports careless drivers to the DMV. “I mean, God bless them, you know I’m sure they don’t realize that they shouldn’t be driving. But it’s just not safe, you know?”
I interrupt her tirade and say, “Listen, Daph, I was wondering something You know how you said that you hoped that it was Tony’s problem? Fault?”
“Yeah.”
“What did you mean by that exactly?”
“I meant that I don’t want to get blamed for this.”
“Blamed by Tony?”
“Yeah.”
“You really think he’d blame you?” I ask. “That’s not like Tony.”
“I know But sometimes I get that feeling.”
“I don’t think anyone should be blaming anyone,” I say.
“Yeah. Well. This whole thing is really stressful” Her voice trails off.
“I’m really sorry, Daphne. I wish you didn’t have to go through this.”
“I know Just tell me that it will happen for me. Tell me I’ll be a mother someday.”
“It will happen,” I say, believing it. “And worst-case scenario, you could adopt. Right?”
“I guess so. But that is a last resort. I want my own baby.”
“But it would be your baby,” I say.
“You know what I mean,” she says. “I want to carry a child. I want to fully experience every part of motherhood”
“You will,” I say.
“Maybe that’s the real reason I want this to be Tony’s fault,” she says. “If it’s his fault, I can still have a baby.”
“You mean with someone else? You’d leave Tony?” I say, horrified.
“Oh, God, no,” Daphne says. “I was more talking sperm banks something like that,” she says.