She pauses as I think of our mother. Maura is likely thinking of her, too. I can’t believe my sister has to go through all of this again.
She continues, “But no, I don’t love him anymore in the way you’re asking about. I don’t love a man who can make my life feel so seedy when I’ve done nothing wrong.” Her voice cracks for the first time, so I try to ward off her tears by speaking crisply, as a mother does to her child who has just fallen down and is considering whether to cry. “Okay. So what if he denies everything?”
My strategy works because Maura’s voice sounds strong again when she says, “I don’t know. But I’m thinking I’ll just pack up the kids and get the show on the road.”
“You should tell him to leave. And with that video, you’d totally get the house.”
“I don’t know if I even want the house,” Maura says. “Our life in that house is a joke .”
We sit in silence for a long stretch until Maura says, “So Daphne told me about the egg donor stuff. And about Ben.”
I have a split second of discomfort, wondering if Maura cares that Daphne and I confided in each other first. I wonder how old my sisters and I will be before we no longer compete at all in our circle of three. Then I say, “Yeah. It was hard to tell her no, but I had to.”
“Because you want Ben back?”
“Among other reasons But to be honest, that was the main issue I think I made a mistake. I really miss him.”
“Yeah,” Maura says. “I’m not surprised. I thought you might change your mind.”
Maura’s I told you so is subtle but annoying. It occurs to me that I could do the same to her. I could tell her that I had my suspicions about Scott from the very beginning. That I thought he was way too charming and smooth to be believable. I think of their engagement when Scott hired an airplane to fly with the WILL YOU MARRY ME, MAURA? banner along the coast in East Hampton. I remember telling Jess that I didn’t trust any man who turned a proposal, what should be a private, intimate expression of love, into something so public. I considered telling Maura the same, expressing my worries that she was marrying a shameless show-off, the sort of man who thrives on the chase, the hunt. But I don’t think it would have changed anything. And what would be the point of telling her all of this now? Maura must know in her heart that she made a mistake marrying Scott. Just like I know that I made a mistake leaving Ben. So I say, “Yeah. I guess sometimes you have to find these things out for yourself”
“Are you going to tell him how you feel?” “Yeah,” I say. “As soon as I can work up the nerve.” Maura sighs and says, “Isn’t it strange that a baby was the only thing keeping you and Ben apart? And the kids seem to be the only thing keeping Scott and me together?”
“Yeah,” I say. “I should have had a baby for the right guy.” “And I had babies with the wrong guy,” she says, confirming my theory that women are always , at least subconsciously, aware of their big life mistakes. Sometimes it’s just not worth looking too closely. Unless those mistakes can still be fixed.
“Well,” I say, wondering if it’s too late for my sister and me. “Aren’t we just the pretty pair?”
“We sure are,” Maura says with a fragile laugh. “We sure are.”
* * *
twenty-six
Another two weeks pass as I agonize over how to get in touch with Ben. Should I drop in on him unannounced? Should I call his apartment? His cell? Office? Should I send an e-mail? Mail him a haiku?
Break up with Tucker She is not the one for you! I’ll have your baby.
Of course the haiku is a joke, but the point is, I’m actually writing them in my head, drafting e-mail messages on the back of takeout menus, and practicing heartfelt monologues in the shower. Yet the more I think about my next move, the more indecisive I become. I also grow increasingly paranoid that, in Jess’s words, Tucker and Ben’s relationship could be “rapidly solidifying.” She should know, I think, as I watch her fall in love with Michael. It’s almost a visible process, like watching a flower unfold its petals on time-lapse photography. I’ve seen Jess smitten many times before, but for the first time, her emotional intensity is not accompanied by drama and angst. There are no text-message battles. No storming out of bars. No cheating. No jealous rages over ex-boyfriends. Instead, everything between them seems normal and healthy and miraculously two-sided, which is confirmed every time Michael stops by my office. He appears even happier than usual and the conversation always works its way back to Jess. He asks me open-ended, endearing questions about her, things like, “What was she like in college?” He wants all the details and background you hunger for when you’re smitten with someone.
Of course, I’m delighted with their romance as I get to spend time with two of my best friends at once. It’s efficient and comfortable and satisfying.