If You Only Knew
“Wally Lamb?” I say, feeling like I just got the right answer to Final Jeopardy. See, gang? I, too, can read! “Wally Lamb’s your uncle?”
She shrugs and gives a small smile.
We observe a moment of silence for the great man, whose books I’m almost positive I’ve read. Well, I’ve read one or two. Probably just one. I make a mental note to read them all, because I feel really stupid right about now.
Then Loki rises from behind the couch, where he’s been sleeping this past eternity, stretches and breaks wind in a long, poisonous hiss.
“Oh, no, is that a dog?” Felicia asks. “I’m afraid of dogs,” she says.
“So stay away from him,” Leo says mildly. He’s not helping.
“Leo, your work, what is it that you do?” Evan asks.
“I’m a piano teacher.”
“He’s a Juilliard graduate,” I offer. “Right, Leo?”
He gives me a dark look.
“We have a piano,” Ana-Sofia offers, nodding at the baby grand. “How wonderful if you’d play for us, Leo.”
“I don’t play anymore,” Leo says. “Sorry.” He pours himself more wine.
“Dinner’s ready,” Owen says.
“You remembered I’m a vegan, right?” Bitty says. “I can’t tolerate animal products of any kind.”
“Makes me sorry I wore my bacon bra,” I say. No one laughs but Owen, who puts his arm around my shoulder as we walk into the dining room. I’m grateful. Even if Owen’s guests are not really my type, even if Leo isn’t being a great date, Owen is still Owen, and still cares about me.
“I hear the baby,” Ana-Sofia says. “Excuse me, please.”
“I’ll come with you,” Felicia says. “I’ve been dying to hold her.”
“Jenny, will you give me a hand?” Owen asks. His hand rests on the small of my back as we go into the kitchen. “Ana said to keep an eye on this couscous, but to be honest, I have no idea what I’m doing.”
For the next few minutes, Owen and I work together in the sleek galley kitchen. Asparagus and couscous, sweet potatoes and quinoa. It’s like old times, though we used to serve more basic foods when we were married—roast chicken and stew and lasagna, with the occasional Japanese meal when Owen felt like putting on a show. But we know the space well, and each other’s rhythms. He slides behind me, I remind him where the serving spoons are kept. Guess he and Ana-Sofia never did rearrange the kitchen.
“So you and this Leo... Things serious?” Owen asks.
“We’re friends,” I say. “We met when I moved in.” Owen nods at that. “How’s fatherhood, Owen?”
His face changes, gentling and glowing at the same time. “Amazing,” he says. “She smiled the other day, and I...I felt it, Jen. You know? In my heart.” He wipes his eyes. “I’m so sorry I never thought I wanted kids. I was wrong.”
What’s the proper response to that? Great! Then let’s kill Ana-Sofia and raise the baby just us two. Or how about Bite me, and thanks for nothing. “Well. A lot of people say that, I guess.”
Natalia the Perfect Infant apparently goes back to sleep. Ana and Felicia return to the table, and talk turns to foreign films. Leo shoots me a pained look and pours himself more wine. Ana gives him a smile, as if she’s apologizing.
“I always thought The Seventh Seal was Bergman’s greatest work,” Howard says.
“No! Are you kidding with me?” Evan exclaims. “But of course you have seen The Virgin Spring? It is so superior!”
“The Angelika had the most amazing retro documentary night last month,” Bitty says. “Deus e o Diablo na Terra do Sol. You have to watch it without the subtitles for the full impact. As 1960s socioeconomic films go, that one has to be the best.”
“I was just going to say that,” Leo says.
“Were you!” Bitty coos.
“No.”
Super. I think Leo may be a little drunk. Then again, if I wasn’t driving tonight, I’d be right there with him. But he’s not being the world’s best date, and he is being borderline rude, barely talking.
“I just watched Citizen Kane again,” Howard says.
“For the twentieth time!” Felicia cheers.
“The message of corruption and innocence... So profound.”
Then Ana-Sofia comes out from the bedroom, holding the perfect bundle that is Natalia, and hands her to me, and I breathe in that perfect baby scent, and then her warm little face is snuggled against my neck. “She missed her Aunt Jenny,” Ana says.
Oh, babies. My whole body aches with the wonder and wanting of them, the sweet, trusting weight, the silken head of black hair. I close my eyes, love wrapping around me in a warm, soft squeeze.
Leo stands up. “I have to take Loki for a walk,” he says. “Excuse me.”
The baby is passed around while Leo is out. He’s gone for a longer time than I’d like.
To make up for my date’s lack of conversational input, I find myself trying harder. After all, these people aren’t horrible. In fact, they’re really sincere, if a little hard to take. Yes, they’re wealthy. A lot of New Yorkers are. Owen is. I didn’t do too badly, either. Still don’t. So I chatter and listen and joke, getting uptight Felicia to admit she misses ham, telling stories about brides and Andreas. It’s nice, too, because Owen chimes in here and there, saying, “Jenny, tell them about the Christmas when Andreas and your mother got lost in the Bronx,” or “Oh, God, I remember that wedding!”