Maggie

“I have two whole hours and iron-on letters. Somebody, stop me,” Lily said with a wide smile on her face. She brushed past me and into the apartment with canvas shopping bags on each arm and Rose in her wake, saddled with a couple of her own.

Rose gave me a smile that could have been considered apologetic.

Lily headed into the kitchen and began unloading her haul. “How are you feeling, Mags?”

I grabbed a bag and began to unpack it. “Like I could sleep for a week and never eat again.”

“Ah, you need the beige diet,” she said with authority.

Rose and I exchanged a curious look.

“The what?” I asked.

“The best way to combat morning sickness—otherwise known as the longest six weeks of your life—is by strictly eating beige food. Pasta. Bread. French fries, hash browns, oatmeal, if you can handle the mush. Applesauce. Chicken nuggets are close enough, but don’t try dipping them in anything unless you want gastrointestinal pyrotechnics. And crackers. Put them everywhere. In every bag you own, in every room of the house.”

“I feel like I should be taking notes.”

She sighed, as if it had all happened to her in another lifetime. “There’s so much I wish I’d known. Like that nursing a baby meant my nipples couldn’t withstand the shower stream for weeks. Or that my vagina and asshole would become one.”

Rose snorted. “You’re disgusting.”

Lily shrugged. “Just wait until you poop a little while you’re pushing in front of a room full of people. People who happen to all be staring at a small human exiting your sacred valley.” She shook her head. “I had never known humility until becoming a parent. I have been covered in bodily fluids more times in the last two weeks than the sum of my entire life.”

Rose glanced at her and fingered the sleeve of her kimono. “Is this baby puke?”

She wrenched her neck around to see the offending stain. “Probably. But what do I care? I’m out of the house for two whole hours, and I’m wearing a real bra and pants with a zipper.”

Rose’s eyebrow climbed.

“Okay, I’m wearing maternity pants, but they’re denim, and that’s a big deal. Give me this one thing, Rose!”

She lifted her hands in surrender. “Fine, fine.”

Lily turned back to me, and her bottom lip slipped between her teeth. “I’m overwhelming you, aren’t I? I am. I’m sorry.”

“No,” I assured her. “It’s really …” I sighed. “I mean, a little, but it’s okay.”

“Did you tell him yet?” Rose asked cautiously.

Another sigh, this one heavy. “No. Lily said to wait until this weekend. I’ve been racking my brain for a brilliant way to tell him, but I’ve got nothin’.”

“Well,” Lily started, assessing the pile of craft supplies on the table, “you’ll be on the boat and in the Hamptons. Something with the ocean?”

I laughed. “I thought about, Holy ship, we’re having a baby!”

Lily lit up. “Or a little onesie with picture of a lobster that says, Oh, snap!”

“I would have told you schooner, but I was turtley busy,” Rose said.

“Sorry if I’m crabby. It’s the seaman’s fault.”

Rose howled. “Oh my God. Seaman.”

“Nauti, nauti seaman.” Lily leered. “Dropping anchor in the lady cave.”

“Oh, the indecenSEA.”

Our laughter died down, and I sighed. “I don’t know. I think I’ve just got to come out with it. Everything pales next to what he’d do.”

“Well, it’s not like you have the connections to get the New York Symphony to parade through Central Park with a We’re Having a Baby banner,” Rose said.

I sighed. I’d done a lot of that the last twenty-four hours.

“No more of that,” Lily said. “I swear, you’ll feel so much better once you tell him. The worst part is not knowing what he thinks. All you can do is assume. And you know what they say; that makes an ass out of u and me.”

Rose rolled her eyes, chuckling again.

“What? Sun’s out, puns out.”

Rose turned to me. “I don’t know much about colorless diets or nipple cream, but I do know relationships. And here’s the truth—everything is going to be fine. Lily’s right. The waiting is the hardest part. As for how you’ll tell him … well, that’s what we’re here for.”

“I just hope I can pull it off. If I’ve learned anything, it’s that life never turns out according to plan. It’s the universe’s joke on us,” I said. “Cooper said last night he didn’t want to have kids for years after we get married, which he hasn’t even asked me to do. I just hope he’s ready.”

Something passed between them, but Rose spoke before I could comment on it.

“Well, do you feel ready?” Rose asked.

“Not at all,” I said on a laugh.

“But you want to do it anyway,” Lily added.

“I do. I really do.” The answer required no thought.

“Then it stands to reason that Cooper will feel the same way. When’s he home?”

I checked the clock. “In a couple of hours or so. I still need to pack. I was supposed to get up when he left this morning, but I slept for two full hours. I swear, I could curl up and sleep some more.”

“Who knew growing a person was so much work?” Rose said, smiling.

“Okay,” Lily said, sorting through Craft Mountain, “we’ve got some of the baby’s onesies she’s never worn, iron-on letters, fabric paint, and a load of puns. Are we ready?”

“Shell yeah,” Rose crowed.

“Yeah, bouy!” I cheered.

And we rolled up our proverbial sleeves and got to work.

An hour later, we had four punsies—as we’d come to call them—two iron burns, one pricked finger, and three sore throats from laughing to show for our hard work. We were packing Lily’s supplies up when she cringed, her face twisting up in pain.

She pressed a hand to one breast. “Ow, ooh, ah!” She hissed between her teeth. “Baby needs to eat. My milk just dropped like a sick-ass beat.”

“Sounds like a really bad rap song,” Rose said.

She leaned, folding her arms across her chest with all the attitude of Salt-N-Pepa. “Word to the motha. Who is me. And now you, homie.”

“Don’t quit your day job,” I said as I stepped into her for a hug.

She wrapped her arms around me and hugged me so thoroughly, I was on the edge of tears again.

“Don’t worry, Mags,” she said gently, swaying me just a little. “We’re here for you. Go this weekend. Tell him about your zygote and spend the weekend in bed together eating toast. Just so you know, eggs are deceivingly not part of the beige diet.”

My laughter was muffled by my stuffy nose.

She leaned back to look at me. “We love you.”

“So much,” Rose added from my side.

“I love you, too. And it’s gonna be okay. Right?”

“Hundred percent,” Lily said without hesitation.

And I found myself smiling. “Then I guess I’m as ready as I’ll ever be.”

I ushered them out with more hugs and calls for good luck and parting advice. Once the door was closed, the quiet was a comfort. I made my way to our bedroom, left alone with my thoughts,.

It was a huge room with windows that looked over the old building across 97th that sat along Fifth. Never had I gotten used to the wealth that Cooper’s inheritance and now job provided, but at least I didn’t mind it so much anymore.

I made my way to the closet, which was the size of my room when I’d stayed at Lily’s old apartment, and grabbed my duffel bag. One drawer at a time, I gathered up all the things I’d need for the weekend, including the clothes I’d wear to sail and a couple of cocktail dresses for dinners.

I slipped on the boatneck sweater, thinking about the salt on the ocean wind, imagining standing at the bow of the sailboat with the sunshine on my face. A vision struck me of us on a boat with a little boy who had Cooper’s tilted smile and bright, clever eyes, a shock of dark hair on his head, as he darted across the deck and into his daddy’s arms. I saw in my mind Cooper teaching him how to tie knots, showing him all the parts of the boat, explaining how to catch the wind, how to chart using maps instead of GPS.

And then I had an idea, one that outshone the punsies and speeches in my mind. When I reached into the shelf in my closet, I knew.

It’s gonna be all right.

And for the first time, I believed it with unfailing hope.