A nerve twitched in Emma’s cheek. “So in this selfless scenario, you help another couple create a family, and their dreams come true while you’re left alone.”
“No.” I flinched. “Why would you say that? Adoption is a very positive decision. There’s nothing wrong with choosing to give a child life and then making sure that life is as rich and full as it could be.”
“I’m not saying there is. Adoption is noble. I’m in favor. I’m just pointing out that it might not be the choice for you. Or that if it is, you need to make sure you’re making it for the right reasons—not out of some selfless sense of martyrdom.”
That stung. At the same time, I could feel the licks of truth in what Emma had said. “I haven’t made up my mind yet.”
“When are you going to talk to Noah?” she asked.
I stretched out my legs carefully. “I don’t know that I am.”
“Alison.” She drew out the syllables of my name in disbelief. “You have to tell him. This is Noah’s child, too, and he needs to know.”
“Well—” It was on the tip of my tongue to spit out something hateful, to the point that maybe he didn’t deserve the courtesy of knowing. Not when he’d been so obviously ignoring me. I amended my words at the last minute. “I’ve tried to get in touch with him. I called, and I texted after you let me know he was out of the coma. When you told me that he was back at home, I went there and rang the bell. He didn’t answer the door. But a few minutes later, he sent me a text that basically asked me to leave him alone.” I lifted one shoulder. “Maybe that’s what I should do.”
“He’ll reach out,” Emma assured me, but there was a thread of determination in her voice that gave me pause.
“Emma, you can’t tell him.” I caught her arm and held it, my fingers wrapping around her wrist. “I’m serious. This isn’t your news to share.”
“Of course, I wouldn’t, but I could tell him that he needs to call you. That he should get in touch.” She set her jaw. “He should stop being so damn stubborn.”
“Stay out of it.” I pointed my finger at her. “I appreciate that you want to help, but for now, I need to handle this my way. Do you understand?”
She hesitated and then nodded. “Why did you tell me if you didn’t want my help with Noah?”
I shrugged. “You’re my friend. I needed to share this with someone. I’m going through the craziest shit in my life, and I’ve been doing it on my own for the last three weeks—since I found out. I need to be able to call you up and say, ‘Emma, my boobs are so sore that when I bent down today to pick up a paper I’d dropped, I almost cried.’ Or, ‘I was watching TV and I totally lost it when the supermarket ad came on.’”
“Oh.” Emma’s face relaxed. “I’m sorry, Alison. I didn’t even think about that. I was so focused on Noah—I thought maybe that’s why you told me. So that I could help you get in touch with him.”
“No.” I sighed. “But I guess if it comes down to it, if he continues to ignore me, I might have to get you to help me there.” I cocked my eyebrow. “But not until I’m ready.”
“Okay, I get it. I’m happy to do whatever I can, although Noah’s not responding to me, either.” She fiddled with a loose piece of rattan on the edge of the table. “You know, Alison, I wasn’t sure we were the kind of friends who shared that kind of stuff—like pregnancy stuff, I mean. You’re usually pretty quiet about personal things.”
“Yeah, I know. Growing up like I did, I learned to keep my private things to myself. I didn’t have girlfriends or sisters or anyone close. I haven’t gotten out of the habit of it . . . but right now, all of this is new and kind of scary. And yet, at the same time, it’s pretty exciting. I go from being wide-awake terrified to convincing myself that I can maybe handle this.”
“How have you been feeling?” Emma tilted her head, a tiny smile playing around her lips.
I blinked away the tears in my eyes. “You’re the first person to ask me that, you know? The worst thing so far has been how emotional I am. Stupid stuff makes me cry. And I’m exhausted, too. I fall asleep as soon as I get home at night.”
“Have you been sick?”
“Nope. I feel a little queasy sometimes, but I think that might be nerves more than hormones.”
“Do you think it’s a boy or a girl?”
My breath caught, and the tears I’d been fighting trickled down my cheeks. “God, I don’t want to think about this. I’ve been struggling to keep myself from thinking of a baby—I say it, I say the decision, I talk around it to myself. But sometimes I give up and think . . . what if. And I imagine that little room next to the master bedroom upstairs all painted and decorated, maybe with a mural on the wall, and a white crib, and one of those dressing tables that turns into a dresser, you know? And when I imagine all that, the trim is always pink.”
“I can totally see you as a girl mom. Your daughter would kick ass, Alison. She’d be super smart, kind, and drop-dead gorgeous.”
“And maybe completely screwed up because her mom is a doctor who works all the time and is still dealing with abandonment issues? And her dad . . . is a has-been football player who doesn’t know she exists?”
“First of all, Noah is not a has-been, and you know that. He’ll figure out a plan for his second act any day now, and when he does, watch out. He’s going to rock it. He just needs to get past this huge self-pity party. Second, he’ll know his daughter—or son—exists because you’re going to tell him. And then the two of you will decide the best way forward for both of you.” Her eyes dropped to my stomach. “For all of you.”
“Yeah, well, I guess we’ll see.” I braced my hands on the table. “I’ll try to call him again. I’ll leave a more urgent message. But until I hear from him, I’m going to keep trying to figure out what I’m going to do . . . with Noah or without him.”
5
Noah
