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“What?” Joe popped a cashew in his mouth. “Yes. True. I’ll be earning the bacon in the traditional hunter provider model, while my wife and living sperm—”
“Gross.” Merrill reached over him and removed the container from his reach. “You’re a gross little boy. Is it any wonder I make you wear a raincoat.”
Joe cleared his throat and ignored the interjection. “While my wife and offspring swan about in the sunshine drinking babycinos.” He reached over Merrill and took the container back.
“I take a little pill every day so I don’t have to suffer that attitude.”
Audrey laughed. “You take a pill and you make him wear rubber?”
“He won’t come to my movies, and I don’t want any mistakes happening before I’m satisfied he’s ready.”
Joe found another cashew and scooped it up with his fork. “She loves me. She thinks I’m fantastic in bed. She’s gagging for me at the end of the day.” He ate the nut. “Twice on Sundays.”
Merrill groaned. “He is so full of himself. Do you know what I saw him do the other night? He licked a spill off the microwave turntable. He licked it, and he put the thing back in the microwave. And I know he drinks milk straight out of the carton. And this man thinks he’s ready to have a baby. Now you see why I go for extreme protection.”
“Oh Merry, baby, you know I take a pin to all those rubbers while they’re still in the pack.”
“Grrr. You have no idea how clever you were going it alone, Aud. No small-minded lump of unevolved man flesh to second-guess you as they’re explaining how they’d do it better while they can’t work out how to empty the bag on the vacuum cleaner.”
Audrey laughed. She knew they were trying hard to get pregnant. This routine was for her, so she’d stop obsessing about whether she’d done the right thing having Mia. It was a familiar riff. Her guilt, Merrill and Joe’s support, red wine and takeaway. Having Mia hadn’t changed the practice, only deepened the friendship.
Joe stacked the empty food containers. “Vacuuming, huh; women’s work.”
“Gagging for you, am I? You’ll be the one gagging when I hold a pillow over your face later tonight.”
“That’s my loving wife. She’s such a dominant in the bedroom.”
Merrill’s disapproving facade cracked. “Oh my God, Joe.” Her ears went red, she laughed. “Too much information.”
Time for a subject change. Audrey poured herself a glass of water. “One of the applicants is a man.”
“Not any kind of man I know,” said Joe.
“A manny.” Merrill smacked Joe on the arm. “If I catch you slugging from the milk carton again I’m going to let your tyres down.”
“Yes, although he was adamant about hating that word.”
Joe shook his head. Audrey could see wickedness slide across his expression; he kept the thought to himself, though the very look earned him another smack. “What makes a man want to be a nanny?” he said.
“That’s my problem with it.”
“Why can’t a man be a nanny?” said Merrill.
“They can, and he has all the right quals, in fact he has an excellent résumé. Mia was either hiding behind me or she totally ignored the other applicants, but she and Reece got on like old friends.”
Joe screwed up his face. “A man nanny.” The whole concept was a bad taste to him.
“How is that so different from a man father?” said Merrill.
“Well, it’s just, hell, full-time, five days a week, out of choice. The guy wants to do this, like professionally.”
Merrill looked at the ceiling. “Yeah, that would freak you out.”
Audrey watched Joe. It was bad enough Reece confused her, but Joe was genuine in his puzzlement. Her own father had been hopeless, putting the farm, his dogs, his tractor above having anything to do with raising her. Might’ve been different if she’d have been a boy, but as a girl she was only good for staying out of his way. And Barrett, for all his intelligence, loyalty as a friend and attractiveness as a sperm donor, professed to be allergic to kids.
“It’s freaking me out. I know there’s no reason why a man can’t want to be a nanny but it’s just so unusual and—”
“Kind of squicky,” said Merrill.
