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Eighty-Two
Magnolia
“No.” Henry shakes his head. “It’d be a fucking travesty.”
I nod in firm agreement. “An absolute nightmare, yeah.”
BJ walks in with too many bags of Chinese take-out and frowns at us.
“What are you two talking about?”
“Babies with a monobrow,” Bridget tells him, unimpressed. She’s perched on the kitchen bench of our apartment in Mayfair. BJ and I move into our place next week.
“Because, I mean, what do you do with that?” I give Beej a serious look and let the gravity of the question hang there for a moment.
Henry shakes his head. “It’s not like you can take a toddler in for a wax.”
“But then…” I give Henry a look. “Do you have a choice?”
“You do.” Beej nods.
“Do you?” I tilt my head.
“Definitely do.” My sister nods, holding her hands out for my fiancé to pass her the Singapore Noodles.
“When we have a child I will be praying for two eyebrows,” I tell them all.
Beej scrunches his nose. “What about praying for just, like, working eyes, some hands, some feet?”
Henry rolls his eyes and I make a sound in the back of my throat. “Don’t be that guy.”
My sister starts laughing.
Bridget looks between me and Henry. “How often do they talk about babies?”
Beej gives her a look. “More often than you’d think.”
“Popular topics include: parents who don’t know their baby looks like a tub of goo, parents willing to throw their baby under the bus for a good photo of themselves, parents with children where one kid’s much, much cuter than the other…”
“Oh god.” Henry sighs all rueful. “Remember that Le Strange debacle? Fuck me, that was a travesty.”
“Which segues into our favourite topic of all: ugly babies.”
BJ shovels some food into his mouth, shaking his head at me and his brother. “I hate it when you two talk about ugly babies”
“Listen,” I scowl at him as I bite into an egg roll, “I don’t rag on you when you’re talking about things that you’re passionate about — like golf, which is stupid by the way—”
Beej and Bridget trade looks.
“That’s—” He shakes his head. “You’re ragging on it— And— It’s not the same thing.”
“I know.” I give him a look. “Golf is boring.”
“It’s not,” Henry interjects.
“But ugly babies are fascinating.”
Henry nods. “That is true.”
