I cover my snort. She did not.
Then my mom gets a happy smile on her face, stares out the window, and then a few minutes later she starts up again.
Leah rolls her eyes at me in her mirror and I smile back. But it’s a weak smile. Because I’m nervous. What if he’s already gone? What if I was wrong and he doesn’t love me and the Jewel in his comics doesn’t actually stand for Gem? I shake my head, it doesn’t matter, I’m going to tell him. I’m going to stop hiding.
As we cross the bridge, I stare at the glittering line of skyscrapers, at all of Manhattan sprawled out in front of us. Dylan lets out another snore and the kids start to sing for the thousandth time, “Josh and Gemma sitting in a tree. K-i-s-s-i-n-g. First comes love, then comes marriage, then comes a baby in the baby carriage.”
I don’t have the heart to tell them that their song is backwards.
Leah calls from the front, “I swear, if you kids sing that one more time, there will be consequences.”
He’s not here.
All ten of us are gathered outside of Josh’s loft.
And wouldn’t you know it, I had it wrong. When I pictured his place, I thought he was sleeping in a dingy, worn-down warehouse with a mattress on the floor.
No.
This place is a gorgeous, modern, brick-faced building, with large, bright windows and a huge entryway. It’s big enough for all ten of us to crowd into. There are only three homes in the building, one per floor. Josh’s place is on the first floor.
I ring the buzzer again. And again.
“Josh, Josh Lew-en-thal!” Sasha calls.
And then Mary and Maemie sing, “Gemma looooves you!”
My cheeks heat.
But I ring the buzzer again and all the kid’s start shouting, “Josh, come out! Gemma’s here!”
They’re jumping up and down and shouting.
And even my mom calls out, “Yooo-hoooo! Josh!”
But no.
He’s not here.
“He isn’t here,” Colin says, as practical as ever.
I have to agree. “You’re right. He’s gone.”
I sigh and my shoulders fall. I missed him. He hasn’t answered his phone or responded to my texts. Not any of Dylan’s either. Which can only mean one thing. He’s gone. He’s either in the air or already in Europe.
I missed him.
“This is a beautiful home,” my mom says.
“Not bad,” my dad agrees.
“Yeah. He bought it after he got that television mini-series contract. It’s not bad.” Dylan shrugs.
All the grown-ups turn and look at him.
“What?” he asks.
I shake my head. I feel deflated. Hugely, unbelievably deflated.
On the first day of this year I told myself that I didn’t care about Josh, that I just needed his sperm. Now, I realize that I’ve never been more wrong in my life. It’s not about making a baby with Josh, it’s just about being with Josh.
The two of us. Together. Come what may.
I reach up and wipe a tear from my cheek.
“Don’t cry, Auntie Gemma,” Sasha says.
“That’s right,” Colin says, “like you say, if at first you don’t succeed, try, try again.”
My lips wobble as I take my family in.
“Alright. Okay.”
I walk out to the sidewalk and look around, try to consider my options. I could call Josh, tell him how I feel over the phone, but shouldn’t something like this be said in person?
My family crowds onto the sidewalk.
A short copper-haired woman tries to push her way through. “Excuse me. Quit blocking the sidewalk, would ya? Move.”
I grin. “Brook. Leave my family alone.”
Brook looks at me in surprise then she takes in my family. “Why are they blocking the sidewalk? What are you doing out here?”
Sasha jumps up and down. “She came to find Josh Lewenthal.”
“’Cause she loves him,” says Maemie.
“Shhh,” Leah says.
“But he’s in London,” Mary says.
My shoulders slump. “Yeah.”
Brook narrows her eyes on me. “You read his comic?”
I nod.
She pulls out her phone. “I have an idea.”
“Does it involve a Learjet?” I ask.
She smirks. “Not quite.”
One train, one bus, and one plane later, I’m in London.
I’m at a spacious hotel and conference center in the outskirts of the city, this year’s location for the annual United Kingdom comic convention. I hold the map and schedule out in front of me. Josh is doing signings in the northeast corner. I adjust the chin-length lime green wig on my head and pull at the spandex dress I’m wearing, trying to stretch it so it fits a little better. I’m a few inches taller than Brook and it’s tight.
The convention is packed. Jam-packed. There has to be at least a thousand people here. Most everyone is dressed up in costume, carrying swag bags or books to be signed. I let out a breath and wade into the mass.
The convention hall is a huge space with high metal-beamed ceilings, bright posters hanging from the walls and the ceiling, and hundreds of decorated booths and tables. The concrete floor amplifies the sound of a thousand excited voices. At the back of the hall is an event stage with a huge movie screen playing loops of anime and comic art. I had no idea so many people would be here. I walk through the thick crowd and try to peer over people’s heads toward the back of the hall.
Finally, I spot Josh.
He’s sitting at a table, talking to a fan, signing a poster for them.
My heart clatters around in my chest and I feel so happy, so glad to see him.
I push through the crowd and walk toward his table. The person signing has left. “Josh,” I call.
I’m only twenty or so feet away when a big, bearded guy in a security uniform stops me. “Whoa, lady. The queue’s back there.” He thrusts his thumb in the direction behind him.
I stumble a bit, then catch myself. I look to Josh. He’s talking to another fan. “Huh?”
“Do you speak English? There’s a queue. Back there.” He speaks slowly, then shakes his head, and says, “Always with the cutting here.”
“But…”
“Queue,” he says. He points and I follow his finger. There’s a line. It has to be two hundred people long. Two hundred people holding posters, or drawings, or comic books, waiting to see Josh.