Jorge doesn’t look up from his car track as he says, ‘A mummy who loves me more than anybody else in the whole wide world!’
‘Correct,’ CJ says, grinning. She turns back to Ash and says, ‘Jorge is a donor baby. I found a nice man who wanted to give me his special seed to make a baby. The man wanted to help me become a mummy. So I used his special seed to get pregnant, and then Jorge was born!’ Ash understands that CJ’s use of language is for Jorge’s benefit, especially when CJ leans in and whispers, ‘IUI. Got pregnant on the first round. I always knew I’d become a mum on my own.’
Ash doesn’t know how to respond to this. She finds herself saying, ‘You wanted a baby, so you just … had a baby?’
CJ shrugs. ‘Pretty much,’ she admits. ‘Isn’t that howstraight couples usually do it? I didn’t see why it should be any different for me.’
Ash thinks of her sisters, all of whom seemed to magically pop out a kid nine months after their weddings, and then one a year thereafter.
‘I suppose you’re right,’ Ash nods. She looks down to Jorge’s mop of blond hair, how absorbed he is in his own little world. Still, she lowers her voice. ‘You weren’t worried about doing it alone?’
CJ drains her glass of wine and shakes her head. ‘Not really,’ she replies. ‘I mean, I had plenty of examples growing up of couples where the mum, and it was always the mum, seemed to essentially be raising her family alone, anyway. Partner away for work, at the gym, playing golf …’
Ash thinks of her sisters’ husbands. It’s true: they can go on a week-long business trip that is essentially a holiday compared to staying home and running a house and family. And her sisters all work, too! But they never go on trips, not even girls’ weekends or overnights away.
‘And financially?’ Ash asks, newly confident in her role as interviewer. She has a tremendous number of follow-up questions, mostly rooted in the fact that despite freezing her minimally numbered eggs, it has never crossed her mind to use them alone. Or, rather, it crossed her mind once and was instantly discarded. Doing it alone would, to Ash, signal defeat, an admission that she is unlovable by grown-up standards and couldn’t find anyone who liked her enough to start a family with her.Oh, why did you go it alone?someonemight ask her, and she’d have to reply,Couldn’t get anyone to shag me, could I?
CJ’s expression doesn’t change in the slightest. ‘I don’t really worry about money,’ she admits. ‘My dad died, and I was his only kid – I inherited his modest estate, which was basically enough to buy this place. He was from Portugal, you see, so I have dual citizenship. I know I’m lucky that way, to own an apartment, but even if I didn’t, even if I’d been renting a one-bedroom, I’d still have done it. There’s not much I’ve ever been one hundred per cent sure of in this life, but being a mother was a non-negotiable to me. I think if something is truly important to you, you find a way to make it work. You just do.’
‘I want kids, but I don’t think I could ever do it alone,’ Ash volunteers, voice quiet.
‘Maybe you don’t really want them as much as you think you do, then,’ CJ shrugs, and before Ash can properly process what she’s said – so flippantly! – Miguel interrupts them to announce that dinner is served.
Ash has impeccable manners, and so it does not show on her face how furious she is at CJ for what she’s just said. Ash wants a family more than anything in the world, and that’s why it hurts so much that she doesn’t have it yet. CJ doesn’t know her, doesn’t know her life – proof in point, Ash successfully navigated the conversation away from herself and instead got CJ talking aboutherlife instead. For fuck’s sake.
‘Who are you?’ asks Jorge, as Todd pours water, CJ pours more wine, and Miguel dishes up hearty-looking bowls of green soup.
‘Caldo verde,’ Miguel explains, passing her a bowl. ‘A simple soup from the Minho Province. It’s greens, potatoes, onions and garlic, and on top we have chorizo. It’s Jorge’s favourite, isn’t it?’
Jorge nods, but keeps looking at Ash. He wants his answers.
‘I’m Ash,’ she says. ‘My name is actually Ashley, but I don’t like how that sounds so I cut my name in half, like this.’ She karate-chops the air, for emphasis. ‘And then I just use the first part.’
‘If I did that, my name would be Jor—’ The kid pauses, sticking his neck out, and looks left and right, waiting for laughter, which is exactly right because a tiny child making fun of himself is damned cute.
Ash plays his audience well, laughing freely. ‘Hmmm, maybe it doesn’t work as well with your name,’ she agrees. ‘I guess there are some names that are better without being—’ She does the hand movement again.
Jorge nods his agreement and Ash’s heart twangs in her chest. She’s good with kids, likes them, is experienced with all her nieces and nephews, everyone’s favourite auntie. But of course she does not have her own, and every successful interaction with a kid makes the reminder bubble up to the surface. It’s just unfair.
‘You’re pretty,’ Jorge says. ‘Mummy says you have a stick up your tiny little ass, but you seem nice to me.’
Ash isn’t sure she has understood the small boy properly until she looks up at CJ, who, as is right, is slack-jawed and looks dangerously close to being embarrassed. She pulls aface, blinking madly, as Miguel and Todd suddenly enter rapt conversation about how good these bowls are, how they’re the perfect depth and width for a soup like this, the rim just right. Ash doesn’t know what to say either. A stick up her tiny little ass?! CJ looks so uncharacteristically shamed at being caught out, though, that actually, what to do next comes easy and natural: Ash bursts out laughing.
‘Thank you, Jorge,’ she says, with a bright, exaggerated smile. ‘I get that sometimes, to be honest. But there’s no stick there. I promise. Sounds painful, doesn’t it?’
Dinner is delicious, and CJ’s family an incredible amount of fun. They have an easy rhythm, passing conversation between them like treats, seamlessly working as a team to clear dirty plates, serve a chocolate mousse for pudding, playing with Jorge and fixing coffee to end their meal. Ash’s head swims with thoughts: this is nice, she loves Miguel and Todd, CJ is like a totally different person at home; if she had a kid, she hopes he’d be as cute and funny as Jorge. But what CJ said earlier still bothers her, and so once Jorge has gone to bed, and Miguel and Todd have excused themselves to go for a late evening stroll, she finds herself saying, ‘It hurt my feelings, what you said before. About me not wanting kids enough.’
They’re on opposite ends of the L-shaped sofa, with CJ on the bit with the legroom. She tips her head and lets Ash speak, and then replies. ‘It’s just my opinion. I wasn’t trying to upset you. If you don’t like what I said, you don’t have to pay it any mind.’
‘But I can’t un-hear what you said,’ Ash counters. ‘So …’
‘So … tell me to fuck off in the moment? Or tell yourself I’m a lunatic and you don’t attach any weight to the words of a crazy woman?’
‘Is that honestly how you live your life?’
‘I think it’s weird if people don’t live like that.’
‘So somebody says something that hurts your feelings and you just … choose not to be bothered?’
