Chapter 28: A Day in the Life

Quinn took a dainty sip of her nonfat cinnamon latte with one-and-a-half shots of espresso, a two-second squirt of whipped topping ("Stirred in but not too much, you know?"), and exactly one shake of ground cinnamon on top. "Anyway," she went on, oblivious to the fact that Jane and Daria had glazed over several minutes before, "the only thing I really hate about my job is that the scrubs wash me out. Other than that, the pay is pretty good and the dentists are mostly women—aside from an ugly guy and a gay dude—so there's no temptation!"

Desperate to change the subject, Jane made the—in Daria's opinion, questionable—decision to ask about Stacy's bachelorette party. "So, Maid of Honor. Last week was the bachelorette, right?"

"Yeah, June fourth." Quinn sighed. "It got weird, though."

"Uh-oh," remarked Daria, "exactly how many Upchuck doppelgangers aggressively gyrated their hotpants on Stacy?"

"It wasn't that," Quinn shot back. "I mean, it started out fine. Tiffany took a break from filming environmental documentaries with her crunchy-hippie boyfriend so she could be there, and we all went to The Meat Locker to see the male strippers. Stacy got pulled on stage and they fed her a penis cupcake! It was a mess." There was a brief pause as everyone at the table confronted that mental image, then Quinn went on. "After we had a few drinks, Stacy said she wanted to show us some kind of game, so we went back to her place. Charles was waiting there with flowers, which was pretty sweet actually. Then he called some of his friends so we could all play this game thing."

"Hmm," said Jane. "I'm scared to ask. It wasn't…sexual, was it?" Daria gave a little snort of amusement as she sipped her coffee.

"No! It was called, like, Orc Disaster or something." This time it was Jane who couldn't suppress her reaction, and she choked ever so slightly on her Earl Grey. Daria was rubbing her back when Quinn continued her story. "I know, right? If Sandi were there, her head would have exploded. But, you know, she's a bitch—so she wasn't." Quinn giggled.

Daria had to ask. "So, what was your character?"

"Um, she was like, a fairy with electric hair? And she was really small, so she rode around on a gerbil!I added that part," she noted with just a touch of pride.

Jane was momentarily speechless, then she cleared her throat and asked, "When is this unholy union taking place?"

"The end of July." As Quinn launched into a description of the flowers, the dresses, and Tiffany's preoccupation with compostable cloth napkins, Daria found herself gazing at her girlfriend, who was currently feigning a reasonable level of interest. With her stormy blue eyes fixed on Quinn, Jane was a vision—and Daria, besotted Cassandra, could see it all: the days together becoming years, every breakfast, every holiday. And more and more these days, she saw a wedding.

"Oh, shit." Jane was looking at the clock. "Babe, Trent is dropping off Madeleine in half an hour." Oh shit, indeed. They had agreed to babysit so Trent and Tom could have their first real date night since the baby was born. Daria quickly finished her coffee and scooted out of the booth, and once they had said their goodbyes to Quinn, they were off.

Twenty minutes of Saturday traffic later, Daria was taking off her boots when she heard a knock at the door. She pulled it open to reveal Trent with baby carrier in hand and the ghost of spit-up on his shoulder. "Hey, Daria. Thanks for watching Maddy."

"No problem." She stepped back so Trent and his strikingly large baby carrier, complete with pink and happy baby, could enter. "Does that thing have blinkers so no one is mowed down in a crowd?"

"No blinkers, but it does have a USB port for…you know, charging stuff."

"Tom's parents?"

"Yeah."

Jane emerged from the bathroom and planted her hands on her hips. "Now, Trent. You're sure you want to leave your beautiful daughter with us? The women who had microwave popcorn and old Easter candy for dinner last night?"

Trent smiled faintly and set down the absurdly fancy carrier. "Don't worry, no teeth. Dinner is taken care of." He patted the stripey pink bottle bag slung over his shoulder.

Once Trent had given them extremely detailed instructions on the feeding process and turned back from the front door twice give Maddy another kiss goodbye, he finally left. Daria and Jane looked at each other, then looked suspiciously at the carrier on the kitchen table. The baby was quiet. Too quiet. And she was watching them.

They were creeping past as quietly as possible, smiling stupidly at Madeleine the entire time because they weren't sure what else to do, when Jane tripped over the bottle bag and yelled, "Crap!"

Suddenly, it was as though the heavens oped to reveal a divine hand with the bill for all their peaceful, quiet nights. Daria was unsure if their apartment had amplified the baby's cries or she was simply unprepared for the sheer number of decibels. She was still deciding how to proceed when Jane swooped in and picked up Maddy, then raised her voice to be heard over the unhappy baby. "Honey, could you get me a bottle please? Sometimes that worked with Summer's kids."

Daria had forgotten about Jane's youthful experience with her sister's babies. She grabbed the pink bag and began preparing a bottle, desperately trying to recall every minute detail of Trent's formula symposium with what was effectively an air raid siren going off in the background. When she handed the finished product to Jane, Madeleine continued to wail and smacked the bottle with a wayward arm. Jane's helpless expression quickly convinced Daria to take over baby-holding duties.

As she shifted the small bundle in her arms, the crying stopped. Jane arched an eyebrow and remarked, "Seriously, just like that?" Daria was starting to enjoy the baby's warm weight (not to mention the silence), when suddenly she was engulfed in a stench cloud of magnificent proportions. Jane wrinkled her nose and asked, "Wanna learn how to change a diaper?"

"No."

"Daria."

"Kidding. Please lead me through this house of horrors."

In the absence of a changing table, the tutorial took place on the kitchen table—something Daria was trying very hard not to dwell on. Unfortunately, the situation deteriorated further as soon as Jane got the diaper off. It started with the baby's sharp inward breath, which made it seem she might start to cry again. But what followed instead was an enormous sneeze, which in turn triggered a horrifying poop geyser that instantly made Jane's shirt into the world's smelliest splatter art.

Jane looked to Daria in wide-eyed shock. Suspecting that laughter would be the worst possible response, Daria snatched the paper towels off the counter and swiftly began wiping Jane's shirt.

Once clean-up was complete, the rest of the evening passed in a blur of crying jags (for all of them), pacifier attempts with mixed results, and occasional moments of silence when a proffered bottle was accepted. When Trent and Tom arrived to pick up their baby, it was a joyful exchange for everyone involved.

Daria and Jane immediately collapsed onto their bed fully clothed and shared a bewildered gaze. Still looking into Jane's eyes, Daria raised a finger and made a series of five downward strokes in the air. The "no baby" side of the board was going to need more real estate.