Four Pressing Concerns Addressed and One Deferred
(Elle)
Things settle down after family lunch, and it's a welcome break after the last few weeks. Not that life gets any slower, but it starts to feel more predictable as we figure out our new normal. Weekdays haven't changed much, with classes and lab and library shifts keeping me busy during the day and dinners with Mickey, but now there's Noah on the phone every night before I fall asleep. I'm also hanging out with friends more than I had all winter, when depression over October and then panic over the pregnancy had narrowed my circle nearly down to Mickey and Lee. It's my last quarter of college, not to mention my last few months of childless freedom, so I try to make the most of it. And then, on Fridays, Noah shows up and we fill our two short days together with as many conversations and adventures as possible. I keep offering to come up to San Francisco, but so far there's always been some reason to stay in LA.
We've also been spending a lot of time on all those details we'd put off dealing with while getting us straightened out. June was right about Matthew not being opposed, just a worrier, and he's got a long to-do list he likes to nag us about. He's not wrong, of course; Dinah will be here in three months and we've still got a lot of work ahead of us. We need a place to live. Noah needs a job and I'd like some kind of plan to not feel like I'm dropping out forever. There are still a lot of people who need to hear our news. And, most importantly, we need to wrap our heads around the idea that we're about to become parents.
One: Home
(Elle)
We get lucky and our search for a place to live ends almost before it's begun. Noah insists that in a year or two we'll be moving so I can go to grad school, so buying doesn't make sense, and we're in agreement that we don't want an entire house and yard to worry about when we're busy wrangling an infant, so that focuses the search on apartments. Location is a bigger challenge, since we have no idea where Noah will be working. I spend several hours the week after family lunch making a list of potential neighborhoods, identifying promising apartment complexes within each, and building an intricate spreadsheet of what I think we're looking for and where we might find it. Then, on Friday, I have lunch with a classmate and mention the long list of places we need to visit over the weekend, and how I still have no idea how to decide despite my crazy spreadsheet. And then the classmate mentions her aunt's job is sending her to London for two years and that the tenants she'd found for her apartment just flaked at the last minute.
A few phone calls and a day later Noah and I are visiting that apartment, and somehow on Sunday we've signed a lease. It's not too far from our parents yet closer to downtown, there's a pool and a gym and a playground, and let's be honest, the decision was made once I saw the ice cream shop around the corner. Jen, our new landlord, is leaving all her furniture behind and tells us to just move anything we don't need into storage; she's flying out in four days and so relieved to have found replacement tenants that I think she'd agree even if we asked to paint the whole place purple. And that's how the next weekend we find ourselves sitting in what still feels like someone else's living room.
"Any minute now the actual grownups who live here are going to come home and kick us out, you know." I joke to Noah as we stretch out on the couch and watch the sun start to set out the balcony doors.
"That would be us, Shelly. We live here."
"Don't accuse me of being a grownup. And 'live' might be too strong a word when the only things of ours in this apartment are some clothes and our toothbrushes."
"I'll bring over some of my old motorcycle posters next weekend, and you can hang Christmas lights all over. I'm sure we can get this place looking way less grownup in no time."
"That would help, yes." It really would. Jen's decor is way too mature and I'm going to need a slower ramp-up from dorm living.
We spend that weekend rearranging Jen's furniture until the place feels more like ours. We keep most of her bedroom furniture, but we empty out her office to use as a nursery and I keep joking to Noah that we need to replace the bed in the spare bedroom with bunk beds for Lee and Brad. Not that Lee is likely to be around much—he hasn't made up his mind yet, but none of the jobs he's considering are in LA. A long time ago Lee and I had drawn up elaborate plans for the apartment we planned to share one day; being nine, we were most excited about our decision to install a soft-serve machine. I might need to find those plans and the accompanying red-inked list of house rules, particularly the one banning Noah, and hang them in the living room. There's a lot nine-year-old Elle didn't predict quite accurately. In my defense, though, Noah was really obnoxious to us back then.
By the time Noah heads to the airport Sunday afternoon, the apartment is starting to feel like home. Or at least, the promise of a new home and new adventures. I'm going to finish out the quarter on campus and Noah's got another six or so weeks until he can move down, but I like seeing that new key on my key ring and everything it represents. And there is no more grumbling about twin beds and no more sweet-talking Mickey into disappearing on weekends; finally we have our own place to escape to.
Two: News
(Elle)
It's Lee who reminds me we aren't done sharing the news. He runs into one of my BU roommates at a party and when she asks how I'm doing Lee realizes she hasn't heard from me in years. I'd tried to keep in touch with my Boston friends after leaving, but it was hard being reminded of everything I was missing; after a while, I stopped logging in to any of my social media accounts, stopped responding to our group texts, just kind of disappeared. To be honest, none of my BU friendships were that close—I had plenty of casual friends, classmates, dorm mates, team mates, but with Noah and Lee around I never felt the need for, or had the time for, new confidantes. And then it was easier to just start fresh at UCLA, to create a new life and make new friends, and not be asked or reminded about Noah all the time.
But I do miss my old friends, and it would be nice to see any who are still in Boston when I fly out for Lee's graduation. Two years seems like too long of a silence to explain in a post that people might not even see, so I spend some time agonizing over an email. Finally, I decide to keep it simple. I apologize for dropping off the face of the earth, I update them on Dad's recovery, I explain I transferred to UCLA because he and Brad needed me around. I mention I'm coming to Boston soon, and that I'd love to see anyone still around. And then I add that it might be my last trip East for a while, because Noah and I are expecting a baby in July. And that's all I say. Some of my Boston friends knew about the break-up, others may never have heard, but either way they don't need the details or the timelines. Just the important part, which is where we are now.
I bcc everyone I've missed, then send off the message before I can second guess myself. The replies start pouring in almost immediately, my phone exploding with alerts. I almost put off looking at the responses, feeling overwhelmed, but Mickey tells me I'm being a wuss and makes me read every single one while she sits next to me on the couch. And it's kind of awesome, hearing from so many long lost friends all at once. Realizing I was missed. No one seems at all surprised Noah and I are still, or are back, together, but the baby news definitely gets some reactions. Within a few hours one of my old roommates has started organizing a get-together during my Boston trip, and now I have one more thing to look forward to that weekend.
Which leaves... the high school crowd. Besides my Flynns, Rachel is the only one I stayed in actual touch with, even after how awkward things got when she and Lee broke up. She and I haven't spoken since winter—more accurately, I haven't replied to any of her messages since January—so I guess I owe her a call and an update. The rest of the Country Day crowd I stopped hearing from once I dropped off social media; frankly, I don't miss many of them. I'm tempted to just let Noah decide whom he wants to tell, and how. Then one Friday I hear a familiarly annoying voice behind me as I wait for my drink at a coffee shop. It's Mia, and she's headed straight for me. Awesome.
"Ellen? Oh my god, it is you!"
"Uh, Mia, hey. What are you, uh, doing around here?" I'm still facing the espresso bar counter, and at first I wonder whether there's any way I can escape this conversation without ever turning around to face Mia. But what the hell, I'm not sure why I'm hiding. I turn and give her a wide smile, then enjoy her double take as her eyes sweep over me and stall over my midsection.
"Oh. My. God. Are you—pregnant?"
No, pea brain, I'm just smuggling a basketball for no apparent reason.
"Sure looks that way, doesn't it?"
"Oh. My. God."
"Do you want to, uh, sit down and catch up?" I offer. At least this solves the problem of how to update the Country Day crowd: tell Mia, and within hours everyone else will know.
She follows me to a table, speechless for once in her life, and I serenely sip my iced decaf while enjoying her shock.
"Wow. Well, I'm glad you finally moved on."
I look at her curiously.
"From Flynn. I mean, we all knew that wasn't going to last. I was surprised you managed to hang on to him as long as you did. It's great you found someone else."
Right. They did all hear about the breakup, and I'm guessing the other Country Day alum in Noah's dorm at Harvard was just as eager to update them about his return to the single life as she was me. And Mia is a tremendous bitch.
"Oh, yeah. Of course. I mean, what were we even thinking? Who ever thought that would work, right?" I can't help it. I kind of want to see how deep a hole she'll dig herself.
"Well, I wasn't going to say so then... but yeah. I mean, come on, you and Flynn? Although, it's too bad. Imagine how cute his babies would be."
"Oh, I've definitely given that some thought."
The coffee shop's door opens and I bite my lip to keep from smiling as Mia leans in, thirsty for fresh gossip.
"So, spill. Tell me everything. You're back in LA? And you're pregnant? I need to hear all about this new man." Mia's eyes flick down to my left hand and its bare ring finger. "Oh, I'm sorry—is he still around, the father?"
I'd be more offended by her transparently insincere concern if I weren't trying so hard not to laugh.
"Oh yeah, he's around." Just a few more seconds to make his way through the crowded seating area...
"Elle, babe, sorry I'm late. The interview ran long."
Aaaaand there he is, fresh from another job interview in what is fast becoming my favorite suit of his. Noah gives Dinah an affectionate pat as he sits down, and I really couldn't have scripted this better.
"Oh. My. God."
Yeah, I'm starting to remember why she and her clique got that name. Mia is gaping at us and Noah finally notices I'm not alone at the table.
"Mia, hey. I didn't realize you were still in LA. So, you two catching up?" Noah politely inquires.
"Well, we just sat down. I hadn't had a chance yet to tell her much. Mia, you remember Noah, right?" I ask her with a dazzling smile.
And as predicted, by the end of the day our entire graduating classes, not to mention a few before and after us, have been alerted to this apparently earth-shaking development. I get a message from Tuppen congratulating us and thanking me for winning him the pool, and I probably don't want to know what exactly they were betting on or what the losing guesses were. Rachel is thrilled, too—I hurry to call her as soon as Mia is gone, wanting to tell her personally before Mia starts alerting the world. She's living in New York now, and as always I feel a pang of regret that it didn't work out with Lee.
So that's another task satisfyingly checked off our to-do list.
Three: Parenthood
(Noah)
The news is finally fully out, and the consensus from my high school and college friends seems to be a lack of surprise about our being back together, some surprise about the baby, and extreme skepticism of my parenting skills. So, thanks for that vote of confidence. Lee and Adam agree I'm in need of guidance, judging from the books recently delivered to my doorstep. Adam's contribution is sincere: he rounded up the books his sisters told him were most useful. Lee's contribution is rather less helpful: it's a picture book entitled The Complete Idiot's Guide to Babies, and he's scrawled additional advice on the cover in black marker: Just do whatever Elle and Mom tell you to do.
They're not wrong that I know nothing about babies, but it's not the practical aspects of parenthood that I'm worried about. Look, I'm a reasonably smart guy and Elle's a genius, so between the two of us I'm sure we can figure out how to keep a baby alive. No, it's the bigger picture stuff that has me up at night. The unending responsibility. The need to make decisions based on Dinah's best interests, not mine or even ours. The disrupted expectations. Not much more than a month ago I was making plans for a very different looking summer, a very different looking next year. I'm glad for the changes, but it's still a lot to wrap my head around in a very short time. And again and again I remind myself that none of this is any easier for Elle; she's known a little longer than I have, but she's also had more to deal with. So I'm glad we've got housing sorted out and are done sharing the news, because I think we need to spend the next few weekends ignoring the rest of the world and just letting ourselves adjust, together, to this whole new landscape.
But it's probably for the best that we can't ignore the rest of the world all week long, because I'm also realizing we can't do this without our friends. Or shouldn't try, at least. Adam's book delivery reassures me not because we couldn't have come up with that information on our own, but because it's evidence of one more person in our corner, watching out. And Lee was right when he'd said Mickey was probably my best ally in all of this—I hate to think what this winter would have been like for Elle without her. And, yeah, then there's Lee; I might be willing to go so far as to admit that my brother has his moments and that having him on our side is better than the alternative.
Adam's the one who brings up Mother's Day, asking whether I'm planning anything for Elle. To which I have no answer. Not because it hadn't occurred to me that the holiday has taken on new relevance, but because I just don't know how, or even whether, to acknowledge that. It's been a hard day for Elle ever since her mom died, and in the past she's opted to ignore it as much as possible. There's not really any good way to find out what she'd prefer other than to just ask, and so I do, later that evening as we video chat.
"So, Mother's Day is coming up. And I know you usually want nothing to do with it, but I wasn't sure if that's still what you want. Or whether it would be okay for us to celebrate. Since it's... your day now, too."
Elle doesn't respond right away, and I watch her twist at her bracelet, chewing on her lip, before finally answering.
"I think I'd rather not do anything. If that's okay with you. Maybe next year I'll want to celebrate, but I'm not ready this year. But—thank you for asking."
"Should I clear out for the day? Or stick around and we'll just—ignore the holiday?"
"I'd like to be on my own," she admits after another long pause, still fussing at her bracelet rather than looking at me. "Go see your mom. I'll do my own thing for the day."
It's about what I expected she'd say, and we don't discuss it further, but I keep thinking about it after our call. Even if Elle doesn't want to celebrate, I can't help wanting to acknowledge the milestone in some way. She'd looked torn as she weighed her words to answer me, and finally it occurs to me what she'd been anxiously tugging and twisting at. That bracelet was Joni's, and Elle has worn it almost daily since Mike gave it to her on her eighteenth birthday. It's a narrow gold chain with half a dozen tiny inset rubies interspersed, and suddenly I know what I want. I ask Mickey to send me a picture of the bracelet, to be sure I'm remembering it right, and then I go hunting online.
That weekend we make no mention of the holiday, and on Sunday morning we part for the week earlier than usual so I can meet my mom for lunch. I don't ask Elle what she's got planned for the day, but before leaving I tuck a small box under her pillow. Elle doesn't acknowledge the present right away, but the next time we video chat I can't help a satisfied grin when I catch a flash of crimson as she tucks her hair behind her ear.
"You're very bad at following directions. I'm fairly certain I said you didn't need to do anything for Mother's Day," Elle comments when she realizes what I'm looking at.
"I have no idea what you're talking about."
"You had no role in these showing up under my pillow?"
"Absolutely none. Cross my heart."
"Well, that's too bad. If you'd had I'd thank you. They match perfectly."
Which I already knew, because I'd sat them side by side while Elle was still asleep Sunday morning. The ruby studs set in gold are nearly identical to those in her bracelet, and sometimes it pays to have years of experience in judging which of Elle's directions I can safely ignore.
Four: Employment
(Noah)
The logistical aspects of getting ready for Dinah are less overwhelming; those, I can make concrete plans to address.
Our living situation got figured out faster than I expected, both in terms of Elle's confidence about moving in together and Jen's apartment falling into our laps. Knowing where we'll be living, and getting to settle in already, eliminates one major source of uncertainty. There are probably a million things we need in order to get that apartment ready for a baby, but my mom would be only too happy to take on that project and I have no problem delegating it to her while we deal with the harder questions. She and Mickey are planning some kind of shower for Elle the weekend before we fly out to Lee's graduation, but I'm choosing to stay entirely ignorant of that craziness. I'll show up where I'm told, if requested.
My job search is another reassuringly concrete way of feeling like I'm doing something to get ready. Natalie's bosses invited me back for a longer round of interviews two weeks after the first, and now I'm waiting to hear back. I'm also talking with a few other companies and firms I'd reached out to myself or via friends, and I placate Dad by meeting with some of his contacts. Joining Dad's firm remains the line I won't cross, but he's starting to understand that. Nothing's settled yet, but things are moving forward; it's satisfying to at least feel on top of this item on our to-do list, even if it has been a hectic few weeks. Between visiting Elle and interviewing, it almost feels like I'm in LA more often than San Francisco, but it's not like my current job is getting any easier with end of year exams approaching. Elle is increasingly busy, too, writing term papers and gearing up for her last round of finals, and I doubt life will slow down for either of us until she's graduated and I've moved down for good. I'm crossing my fingers Dinah doesn't get any ideas about making an early appearance, because we are going to need every bit of that month between Elle's graduation and her due date to recover from this spring before everything gets really crazy.
Elle actually lands a job before I do, which is a relief, because the idea of having nothing lined up after graduation clearly bothered her. Not that she'd be sitting idle, since obviously Dinah is going to be a job in herself at first, but I know that's not what Elle had envisioned for herself after college. She's been busting her ass in class and in the lab for years, so she's understandably uneasy about walking away from all that, even if only temporarily. It's Elle's advisor who comes through with an unexpectedly ideal proposal: she's swamped with research articles she needs to prepare for publication and she just got asked to co-author a textbook, and there's no way all of that will happen without some help. It wouldn't be anywhere close to full-time and the work could be done remotely at whatever odd hours Elle can spare while Dinah's asleep or when I'm home, but it would keep Elle in the thick of research and look good on her resume when she decides what she wants to do next.
So that's another item on our list I can tell myself we're making progress on.
And One Deferred
(Noah)
There's one topic we're still avoiding, though, and it's the one my dad seems most intent on nagging about. His take on all of this turns out to be pretty simple: he's slowly admitting he's okay with the outcome, but not the way we got there. The two of us together and a baby on the way? That part he's happy about, at least now that he's gotten over the shock. But there was a right way to get there, according to Dad, and our path wasn't it. The solution, to him, is simple: get ourselves on that right track immediately. Move here, get a real job, and oh yeah, get married. Those first two I have no objections to, but the third puts me in the interesting position of arguing against something I absolutely want.
Yeah, I want to marry Elle. I've wanted to for a long time, no matter how much time I've also spent trying to convince myself to get over her. That last summer we spent together, before Mike's accident sent us reeling, was when I first admitted to myself I hoped to, someday. This October I realized that hadn't changed, and that I wanted that someday sooner rather than later, having wasted two years already. And then this spring I discovered those feelings still hadn't dimmed despite five months of telling myself it was over, even if our situation had suddenly gotten a lot more complicated.
And that's the problem. That's why Dad's badgering has me arguing against what I most want. Because as much as I want to marry Elle, I don't want to marry her like this—because of a situation, and an accidental one at that—and I suspect she feels the same way. If she's even feeling ready to think about marriage at all without panicking, which is its own separate issue and reason to take things slowly.
Dad's got a dozen reasons why we should. They're all pragmatic and logical and none of them are why I would want us to get married. To make the legal situation simpler. So my insurance will cover her. To make for an easier estate plan, because apparently that's a thing I'm going to need now. I'm also pretty sure Dad would prefer to refer to Elle as his daughter in law when he announces the news to friends, rather than his frustrating son's on-again, off-again girlfriend, but that's his hangup, not mine.
And maybe I'm too stubborn for my own good, but I've waited too long for this to do it for any of those reasons, or any reason other than because we want to. It's not even been two months since I spotted Elle and learned the news, and right now I just want us to enjoy where we are and breathe for a minute. So I tell Dad it's not up for discussion and I tell myself I'll think about it later. Hopefully not too much later, but not this minute. Because where we are right now is amazing but also overwhelming, full of promise and potential and terrifying unknowns, and we need a moment to adjust to it all. And it doesn't matter what we're labeling ourselves or our relationship as long as we agree our future is joint.
We've got a place that's ours, we're close to having jobs worked out, everyone finally knows, and we're slowly wrapping our heads around the idea of becoming parents in another two months. That's more than enough for now.
Overly Long Author's Note: I needed a way to organize this chapter so it could provide a rapid overview of the five weeks following family lunch without feeling completely disjointed, and so I reached for Ye Olde 4 Times/One Time structure. Let's call it... "Four Pressing Concerns Addressed and One Deferred." It's not an entirely traditional application of 4+1, and maybe it didn't work so well, but... it got the chapter finished. Which means we can move on to the next phase of the story and everything I've got planned there, all of which I'm so excited for.
TIMELINE REFRESHER: a recent timeline recap, because Lord knows I'd be lost without my giant annotated calendar.
March 18, 2021: Lee visits Elle and finds out.
Saturday, March 27: Noah finds out.
Weekend of April 2-4: Elle visits Noah in San Francisco.
Weekend of April 9-11: Noah surprises Elle with a visit; lunch with June.
Weekend of April 16-18: Sonogram, Lee shows up, family lunch.
Weekend of April 23-25: Visiting and leasing apartment.
Weekend of April 30-May 2: First weekend in the apartment; run-in with Mia.
Weekend of May 7-9: Mother's Day.
We'll pick up again two weeks after Mother's Day.