“The baby spills stuff all the time and you don’t care. Your precious angel can do no wrong!” Sophie shot back, her eyes filled with tears. I’d sat there stunned, my voice caught in my throat, wondering if that was really how she felt.
When John and I had told her and Audrey that we were pregnant—dangling I’M A BIG SIS T-shirts in front of their faces—they weren’t thrilled, but I’d been prepared for that reaction from the research I’d done online. What I hadn’t been prepared for were my own conflicted feelings as the girls fired off questions I didn’t know how to answer. With the shirts balled up in their laps, they interrogated us. Would I have to share a room? Would I have to babysit? And then maybe the hardest question of all: Why?
It didn’t help things that my pregnancy was hard and I pretty much slept my way through it. And then once Charlotte was born, she had demanded a lot more of my attention than I’d anticipated. And I’d missed a lot: the opening night of Sophie’s last play; the deadline to mail in the money for a trip Audrey wanted to take with her class to Washington, D.C. And I’d clearly missed the resentment Sophie—and probably Audrey too—had been feeling.
What I wouldn’t give now to apologize to Sophie for losing my cool over a spill. I wish I’d hugged her and told her I was sorry for not being there for her, for being too hard on her.
I look at Casey, still waiting for my answer. “I don’t know how long this is going to go on,” I say. “The bartender was so confusing and cryptic.”
“We need to go back and talk to him again.” Casey sits up quickly.
“Do you really think he’ll be there? He disappeared into thin air. Remember? And when I went back to the manager to find out more about him, she had no memory of ever talking to me about a bartender named Brian. She said no Brian had ever worked at the hotel. She didn’t even remember the autograph I signed for her daughter.”
“Let’s go back over what Brian said. Maybe we can figure this out,” Casey says.
I sigh. “We’ve been over this.”
“I know, but maybe we missed something,” she says.
“He didn’t say much, just that it was possible to get our lives back, but we were going to have to figure out how. And that the answer is within us.”
“That’s helpful, Brian.” Casey laughs.
“I know. What the hell?”
“But maybe if it was that easy to find him the first time, we can track him down again. And when we do we’ll force him to fix this.” Casey crosses her arms over her chest.
“Hey, I could flash him one of your boobs, seeing as he’s really into you, by the way. He was totally hitting on you the entire time I was asking him how to switch back!”
We laugh and then both fall silent when reality sets in that it really isn’t funny.
“Can I change the subject?” I ask.
“Please!” Casey says.
“I’ve been planning this thirty-ninth birthday party for John and—”
She cuts me off. “Thirty-ninth? Who plans a thirty-ninth birthday party?”
“I know, I know. It’s kind of ridiculous. But he’s so freaked out about turning forty that there’s no way I can throw him a fortieth. So I’m going to surprise him with a thirty-ninth. Something he’ll never expect.”
She thinks for a minute. “Isn’t his birthday coming up in just a few weeks?”
“Yeah . . .”
“Why don’t I know about this?” I ask, feeling hurt that she didn’t bring me in on the secret.
“You do; well, Destiny does. It’s in your calendar according to her.”
“So is it all planned then?”
“Not exactly. I haven’t done everything.”
“Well, you have a venue, right? And the invitations have been sent out?” Casey sits up tall.
“If a save the date email counts, then yes, I’ve told people when it is.”
“Rachel!”
“We don’t all have assistants, you know. I have a baby, two moody teenagers, and there’s a lot going on. There are days when getting a shower is a miracle.”
“Um, I know. Look at this hair.” She pulls at my limp locks.
“Not so easy when your hairdresser isn’t there to do it for you, is it?” I laugh.
“Whatever. Listen, about this party that I guess I’m now planning. It’s been forever since I’ve coordinated more than my weekend outfits. Destiny handles all this kind of stuff for me. Maybe she can help! You can ask her for a favor tomorrow. She won’t like it, but she’ll do it.”
“I don’t know,” Rachel says. “I feel bad asking her. She already seems to have so much on her plate.”
“You think I can do it by myself??” Casey challenges. “You’re going to be way too busy to help me. And it’s not like I can ask John.”
Seeing the overwhelmed look on her face, I back down. “Okay, I’ll ask her tomorrow. Maybe she can at least help finalize some of the details.”