I nodded, then divulged details of my parents’ divorce. I told her how certain I was that Daniel’s death had caused their split. My mom blamed my dad’s drinking—but the drinking was a reaction to his grief. In other words, it all came back to Daniel.
On our way home that night, I told Nolan that I was certain Ellen would become a close friend. Sure enough, we bonded more and more over the next few months, hanging out frequently, emailing constantly, and talking on the phone almost daily, which was something I had never really done with other friends. Josie referred to Ellen as my “girl crush,” which annoyed me for several reasons, but mostly because it trivialized our connection. I didn’t bother to tell Josie all the things I liked and admired about Ellen. She was passionate about her work—and brilliant at it, too. I could spend hours looking at her photographs of people, marveling at how she made ordinary people look famous and famous people seem ordinary. She was original, yet didn’t go out of her way to be different, either—which resulted in unusual combinations that seemed like contradictions only if you didn’t know her. Like owning a rescue dog as well as the most beautiful, regal purebred golden retriever I’d ever seen. Like being a hippie at heart, yet marrying a fourth-generation Atlantan blue-blooder. Like driving a beat-up Toyota covered with artsy bumper stickers, yet filling her house with exquisite art and antiques. I loved her raw honesty—that she was quick to acknowledge flaws in herself and her marriage when so many others couldn’t even admit they were having a bad day.
As it turned out, Ellen and I got pregnant at virtually the same time, and Isla and Harper were born only five weeks apart. The intense early motherhood experience brought us even closer, both individually and as couples, so much so that we chose each other to be godparents to our firstborns. Josie, of course, was angered by our decision.
“So if you and Nolan die, you’re giving Harper to them?” she said, cradling our two-month-old daughter with a slightly crazed look. “Someone you’ve only known a few years? Instead of your own flesh and blood?”
“Oh, for heaven’s sakes, Josie, everyone knows that godparents don’t necessarily mean guardianship,” I said, doing my best not to think about the grisly circumstances that could claim both my life and Nolan’s. “It’s just…an honorary position.”
“So you don’t want to honor your own sister?”
“You’re already Harper’s aunt. The aunt role trumps that of godmother. Ellen picked me instead of her sister. Or Andy’s sister. And they aren’t mad about it,” I said, although this wasn’t entirely true. Ellen’s sister was fine with her decision, but Andy’s sister was a little miffed and territorial, too.
“So I do get Harper if you die?” Josie morbidly pressed on.
“Josie,” I said, aghast, discreetly gesturing toward Mom.
“What? It’s important to cover this stuff now,” Josie said, willing to talk about life and death when it suited her purposes.
“Nolan and I haven’t done our will yet,” I said, thinking that although we would have much to decide, one thing was for sure: Josie would not be Harper’s guardian.
“Well, I want her,” Josie said, as if the decision were just that simple. Sort of like her mindset now. You want a baby, you get a baby.
—
AFTER THE TEA party is under way, I fill Ellen in on Josie’s latest antics.
“Interesting,” she says, looking intrigued. Although she is always diplomatic and fair-minded when it comes to my sister, this response still surprises me.
“Interesting? You don’t think it’s a horrible idea?”
“It’s not the worst idea I’ve ever heard.”
“Josie as a single mother?”
“She’s good with Harper.”
“Yeah. For five-hour stints,” I say. “We both know that’s not how motherhood works.”
“Right. But she wouldn’t be completely solo. She’d have you and Nolan to help,” Ellen says. “And grandparents. And Gabe.”
“Friends don’t really help when it comes to children,” I say. “Not more than a token playdate here and there.”
“Maybe not,” she says. “But family certainly does.”
I look at Ellen, once again reminded of the key difference between the two of us and our respective sister relationships, namely that she both loves and likes her sister, Suzanne.
“The baby would have you,” Ellen finishes, in case I missed her point.
“But I don’t want another baby,” I say, just as Nolan passes by us on his way to the cooler. He shoots me a wounded look, grabs another beer, then heads back in the house.
“Shit,” I say under my breath. “Nolan heard that.”
“He doesn’t know that?” Ellen says, looking surprised. She and I have discussed it several times before.