Chapter Nine:

"Hi." Wade said. "It's me Wade."

After almost a year together, Wade still felt the need to identify himself by name every time he called my cell phone. Even though he knew his name came up on the screen and that, of course, I would recognize his voice.

"Yes." I said. "I know. What's going on?"

"Nothing much."

"Okay."

"I just wanted you to know that I told Rob about the baby. Now, before you get upset, he promised not to tell Mom and Dad."

Well, we hadn't promised not to tell our siblings, had we? Still I felt a twinge of annoyance. Wade worshipped his older brother although he'd deny it heartily. Really, it was a sort of self-worship. Rob was simply a thirty-five-year-old version of Wade, as well groomed, well dressed, and uninspired. No wonder Rob's relationship with the brilliant chemical engineer hadn't lasted.

Brianne, I scolded silently. Don't be mean. Not for the first time it occurred to me that I might be a wee bit jealous of the close relationship Rob and Wade shared. My own sister and I weren't exactly the best of buddies, although there was no hostility between us. There wasn't much of anything, really. The Trufan family could never be described as closely knit.

"How did he take the news?"

Wade laughed lightly. He was happy for me, of course. He gave me some advice on getting into the best private preschools and—"

I didn't hear much else of what Wade had to say. I was glad Rob was happy for Wade. Really. Maybe, I thought later, as I got ready for bed, maybe I should tell my own brother the big news. But why? The truth was it didn't' matter to me whether Mark learned about the pregnancy now or later.

I suppose it was nice growing up with an older brother. Mark did all the expected, big brotherly things like threaten the bully who taunted me in second grade and warn me against certain boys when I began to date and even, on occasion, give me little treats like barrettes for my hair. But then Mark went college and then on to business school in Virginia and then he got married to a woman, Taylor, who I didn't really like and the inevitable happened. We began to see each other only a few times a year, mostly on holidays and to talk on the phone only when there was important information to relate.

Today Mark lives out in Lincoln, a few miles from the Weston house he gave up in the divorce. Taylor and Mark have two children, six-year-old, Nicholas and four-year-old, Ashlyn. Mark is a devoted father; no matter the circumstances he would never have moved far away from his family. But in this case his presence is even more of a necessity. Nicholas has a fairly severe form of autism, one that seems to be worsening as he ages.

I often wonder, if Mark and Taylor had known then what they know now, that their marriage wasn't going to stand the strain of Nicholas's caretaking and all the attendant stresses, would they have had another baby?

As far as I can tell neither Mark nor Taylor has much of a personal life. Things seem to have gotten even more hectic and financially strained since the divorce, and how could they not have? Sometimes—like when my brother got bronchitis twice last winter and still had to go to work and fulfill his duties as dad and there was no one to take care of him when he collapsed into bed each night—I think that maybe it would have made more sense for Mark and Taylor not to get divorced. But what do I really know of my brother's life?

I called Mark at his downtown office the very next afternoon. He works for State Street as a financial analyst. You can see again why Mark doesn't have much time for himself. Virtually all the hours not spent commuting—about two hours daily—and working—ten hours are common—are spent with the kids.

"Hi." I said when his assistant had put me through. "It's me."

"I know. Paige told me. What's up?" He sounded distracted, busy, remote.

"Can I come out for a bit his Saturday? Maybe for lunch. I'll bring something."

"The kids will be there you know." He said.

"I figured. That's fine."

"Then sure. Come around noon. Ashlyn's got swimming lessons at two-thirty and Nicholas has physical therapy at three, so that gives us two hours before I have to get on the road."

I thanked Mark and hung up. Sometimes I wondered how much my decision not to have children of my own had been informed by the example of Mark and his family. Maybe my choosing not to have children was like dodging a bullet pretty sure to shatter at least some aspects of my life.

Dodging a bullet. How grim. And how ridiculous to think I'd protected myself from harm by deciding not to have children. Because now I was pregnant in spite of that decision, and if my life hadn't exactly been harmed it certainly had been disrupted. Face it, Brianne, I told myself. There are no guarantees in this world. You'd have to be dumb not to know that. But you didn't have to like it.

I called Kristen and suggested we meet for a drink one evening.

"This week is hell for me." She said briskly. "But I can give you half an hour on Wednesday. Meet me at six at the bar at Leopard."

Kristen Newman seems to have everything. She left the financial services firm where she'd been a bond analyst since graduating from business school and started her own financial consultant business. If her designer clothes, spectacular apartment at the Marina Bay Condo development, 7 Series BMW, and twice yearly trips to Canyon Ranch are any indication of financial success, Kristen is winner.

I met Kristen about the time I met Wade, at a small women-in-business seminar I hadn't wanted to go to in the first place. Neither, it turned out, had Kristen, but she'd been offered a nice honorarium to speak. I was never really close to Kristen, not in the way I'm close to Elise, Carrie, and Jamie. We had no common history and no shared interests other than owning our own businesses. I'm not quite sure why we called each other friends; maybe we never actually used that term.

Whatever the case, Kristen was in my life at the time I met and got engaged to Wade. And at the time I found out I was pregnant. And the reason this is significant is because, for reason I still can't fathom, Kirsten wanted a child. She was actively pursuing adoption, having given up on the possibility of marriage and having declared quite emphatically that she would never be so insane as to go through a pregnancy without a husband.

Anyway, there I was, engaged to a wonderful man and pregnant with his child. And there was poor Kristen, wading through the red tape of legal adoption, spending large amounts of money to no avail and going home every night to an empty, albeit luxurious, apartment. And I had to tell her I was going to have a baby.

Elise never liked Kristen. In fact, it was a mutual loathing at first sight. "I don't loathe her." Elise once protested after a particularly acid exchange between the two women over cocktails at the Four Seasons. "I just distrust her. And I despise her. I don't' know why you're friends with that woman. I don't know why you keep asking her to join us."

Frankly, I'm not sure why I continued to include Kristen in our social plans. Kristen was a lonely person. Maybe I was her only real friend. Maybe she felt it was better to spend an evening sparring with Elise than to sit home alone.

Anyway, Wednesday came around. I got to Leopard a few minutes early and took a small table away from the already crowded bar. I wanted some privacy when I told Kristen my news. At precisely six o'clock, Kristen arrived. She ordered a glass of champagne. She made no comment when I asked for a glass of seltzer with lime.

"I've got some news." I said when our drinks had arrived. My tone was tentative, gentle. "I'm pregnant. Isn't that funny? I wasn't even planning it and—"

The look on Kristen's face stopped me cold. "Well, isn't that just wonderful for you." She said full of sarcasm.

I felt as if I'd been slapped in the face, hard. I felt nauseous. "Sorry Brianne." Kristen said briskly. "But you really can't expect me to be thrilled for you when I've been going through hell with this adoption process."

I attempted a smile. "Could you at least be mildly pleased? Neutral even?"

"I thought Wade didn't want a family." She replied.

"He didn't. But now he does."

"Now he says he does." Kristen's words were murmured but I heard them. And I decided to steer the conversation away from me.

"So, is there any good news about the adoption?"

Kristen's answer came firing back. "Everyone I've been dealing with is an ass. I had to fire my attorney for doctoring his bill and the so-called professionals at the agency are just incredibly stupid. I swear I want to bitch slap them all, and I would if it would shake some sense into them but all it would do is get me arrested. But once I get the kid, those bitches are going to hear from me."

I attempted a sympathetic smile. "Oh, I see."

Kristen left shortly after that, claiming another appointment. She hadn't left any money for her drink. She was probably too rattled by my news to remember that she'd consumed nine dollars worth of bubbly. Poor Kristen, I thought, watching her leave the restaurant, Prada bag over her arm, Manolo Blahinks tapping smartly against the Italian marble floor. Life can be so unfair. She has so much but not the one thing she really wants.

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