—
In the selfie Viv sent Henrietta and me from the hospital, she was wearing a blue mask and a green hospital gown, her eyes were wide open, and she was making a peace sign.
Contractions 3 min apart cervix dilated to 5 cm, she wrote.
Then: Gloria the doula is my new BFF
Then: Epidural heavenly
OMG!! I texted. How are you feeling?
Then Henrietta’s reply came through and it was a picture of Lisa, who’d planned a home birth, reclining bare-breasted against the interior wall of an inflatable pool, looking blissed out, holding an actual baby—a tiny, huge-cheeked, closed-eyed, naked little creature.
From Henrietta: Amazing and also…meet Olivia Rose
From Viv: WTF?!!!
Viv: Meaning congratulations you overachievers
Viv: But when did Lisa squeeze that out?!?
Henrietta: 8 lbs 1 oz, born 7:46 A.M. this morning
Henrietta: Mom, Mommy, and Olivia all on cloud nine
Henrietta: You’ll do great Viv
Me: H so happy for you and Lisa!!
Me: Vivvy hope you can feel all the love coming toward you
Me: I know Theo and Gloria will take such good care of you
Then Henrietta texted just me: Don’t want to say this to Viv but Lisa’s labor so messy it was like a food fight
Then Viv texted just me: Don’t tell Henrietta I said this but is there ANYTHING fouler than giving birth in a tub
Viv’s first text had arrived a little after 9 A.M. central time. Six hours later, two texts arrived from Theo: first a photo of a baby gazing outward with big brown eyes, wearing a white hat, and wrapped in a striped blanket. And second a message: Caleb Elijah Elman, 7 pounds, 4 ounces. Caleb & Viv both fantastic!
* * *
—
I’d invited Charlotte Larsen onto our deck to meet Noah, and she came over after dinner, radiating jubilation and panic, clearly dressed up in a sleeveless flowered blouse, white jeans, and platform mules. When she’d climbed the steps from the yard onto the deck, I said, “Charlotte, this is Noah, and Noah, this is Charlotte,” and she said, “Oh my God, I love you so much, Noah.” Then she burst into tears.
As she wiped her eyes, she said, “I’m so sorry, but ‘Making Love in July’—and also ‘Arlington Dawn’—and ‘Sober & Thirsty’—sorry, I can’t even talk, but our first dance at our wedding was to ‘Making Love in July.’ My sister and I know all the words to the entire album.”
When Noah spoke, it was with a contained, professional kind of friendliness I hadn’t seen even during the week he’d hosted, a guarded warmth. “Thank you,” he said lightly. “I really appreciate that.”
“But what happened to your hair?”
Pleasantly, he said, “It was time for a change.”
“Would it be okay if I get a picture?” Charlotte asked. “Sally told me about not posting anything, but just to show my sister. She won’t believe it unless I have proof.”
As Charlotte passed me her phone, and Charlotte and Noah positioned themselves side by side—“I’d put my arm around you if not for the pandemic,” he said, while maintaining a few feet of space between them—I thought once again of another TNO writer telling me years before that nonfamous people wanted their interactions with famous people to end as quickly as possible so they could go tell their other nonfamous friends about them. And indeed, Charlotte was within ten minutes walking back toward her own house.
I whispered to Noah, “Fifty bucks she puts that picture on Facebook later tonight.”
He whispered back, “What will be will be.”
Charlotte disappeared from view, and I said, “Seriously, you’re very good at that.”
“I’ve had practice,” he replied.
* * *
—
I sat at my wicker desk to write the email to Nigel. Two days before, I had spoken at length to my agent, and my agent had then relayed the particulars of our conversation to the relevant people at TNO, which meant that reaching out to Nigel was an act of decorum on my part rather than a disclosure of information. If I’d had more faith in my ability to express myself in speech, I’d have called him, but of course the thing that had propelled me to TNO in the first place was my faith in my ability to write.
Dear Nigel, I typed on my laptop,
I will never be able to adequately thank you for giving me the opportunity to be a writer at TNO. When I think of the best, happiest, and funniest moments of my life, an extremely high proportion of them took place inside the TNO studio or up on the seventeenth floor. I’ve heard you say more than once that TNO isn’t a place for lone wolves or perfectionists, but it was an ideal place for me because it helped me be much less of a lone wolf and much less of a perfectionist. You have created a singular comedic community, and I’ll forever be amazed that I was part of it.
All my best,
Sally
Nigel’s reply arrived ten minutes later.
Sally, apparently “lone wolf” is something of a misnomer. A wolf who strikes out on her own tends to do so only temporarily, when moving on to the next stage, before finding a new pack. As for perfectionism, those of us who have spent time inside the TNO studio know that something so evanescent and silly comes about only through prodigiously hard work. Don’t hesitate to be in touch. N
* * *
—
We ended up staying in Kansas City for sixteen days. Jerry’s fever had broken after five, and, very slowly, he continued to regain energy. By the time we decided it was okay to leave, he wasn’t the same as before, but he was far better than he’d been when Noah and I had shown up. His sister Donna promised me that she’d check on him every day.
For a farewell dinner, we grilled shrimp out on the deck the night before our departure. The Larsens were also on their deck, and Chloe, who was the nine-year-old, asked, “Do you think Sugar knows she’s a dog?” Before I could respond, Stella, who was the eleven-year-old, eyed the Greek salad Noah had made and said, “I don’t like cucumber because the best part of a cucumber tastes like the worst part of a watermelon.”
Noah and I looked at each other, and I said, “I can’t disagree.”
To surprise Jerry, I’d baked pupcakes for dessert—I’d found a recipe that was indeed edible for both humans and dogs, with flour and peanut butter as the main ingredients—but after we finished dinner, Noah said, “Before you bring out the you-know-whats, there’s something I want to do. I’ll be right back.”