The Grown Ups Read online

  “Good?” Sam asked as he wiped his knife off on a towel.

  Suzie nodded, her mouth glued shut with hummus. When she could speak she asked, “Are you still going to crash upstairs? Did you get any furniture? What do you need?” When Sam had shown Suzie and Michael the place, he was most excited about the small apartment above the tavern. It was dark, with an odd placement of casement windows at half height and a pitched ceiling that made it difficult to stand upright except in the middle of the room, but Sam had been thrilled that it was all his, not a room at his father’s house and not a place with roommates.

  “I got an old mattress, it’s all good.”

  Suzie finished the hummus and sat back. Her face was flushed, her cheeks and neck a bright red, as she fanned her face with her free hand.

  “You okay?”

  She ducked her head, trying to downplay the fact that her body was reacting the way it was supposed to. “Oh, yeah, hormones are working overtime. So, your stove is beautiful and terrifying.”

  “Perfect, right?” Sam stroked the surface with the dish towel, buffing the stainless. “She’s a studio apartment in Manhattan in a so-so neighborhood with no view.”

  Suzie laughed. “Well, you could probably sleep in that oven if you tucked your legs to your chest.”

  “I think I have,” Sam said, laughing. “You never saw some of my apartments.”

  Marguerite came into the kitchen with a triumphant look on her face. “It’s all set. But I have to give them a cashier’s check today, and that means I need to run to the bank and then get on the road.” She looked at her watch and then over at Suzie. “Is that okay? I know I said I’d give you a ride back into the city. You could wait for me at the house or take the train.”

  “Let me give you a ride,” Sam said to Suzie.

  “No one has to give me a ride. I can take the train,” Suzie said.

  Sam shook his head, rattling the keys in his pocket. “I don’t need Michael to bust on me for letting his pregnant wife take the train.” He was half joking, but Suzie could tell from the look on his face that he didn’t want Michael to think he was incapable of doing the right thing.

  The minute they got in the car Suzie said to Sam, “I don’t want this to sound the wrong way, but don’t ask me about Bella.”

  Sam frowned at the road. Suzie stared at him for a minute and then looked down in her lap. Bella had told Suzie that she just couldn’t deal with everything Sam had dumped on her right now. She said he’d called constantly and she refused to answer. She claimed it was self-preservation. Suzie thought she was just scared after everything that had happened with Ted.

  “So what am I supposed to do?”

  It took Suzie a moment to realize Sam was asking her for advice. “I think you have to leave her alone, Sam.” She didn’t want to betray Bella by saying anything more.

  “Peter and Frankie have told me the same thing. I thought they just wanted to shut me up because they were tired of me crying into my beer. I asked Mindy and Ruthie too. But I guess you know their answer. You were my last hope.” He frowned at the windshield. “What can I say? I’m desperate.” He said the last thing without any pity in his voice.

  Suzie’s mouth twisted into a smile. She bit the inside of her cheek; she didn’t want Sam to think she was laughing at him. “The restaurant looks good,” she said.

  “I’ve had stress dreams where I fuck everything up there in such a massive way that I take down the people who believe in me the most.”

  Suzie waved a hand in front of her face. “Oh, that’s perfectly normal.”

  Sam laughed. “Normal? Now that’s a word I didn’t think doctors like you were allowed to use.”

  Suzie shook her head. “Tell me about the menu; start at the beginning.”

  As he drove Sam fell into a recitation of the meals, from appetizers to dessert. Suzie was hungry again, and she fell asleep with a hollow ache in her stomach at Sam’s description of a warm orzo dish with fresh mozzarella, garlic, and spinach in a spicy butter sauce.

  Her sleep was restless, uneasy, but she was still drowsy enough not to want to open her eyes and really wake up. Her cheek was pressed against the window, and while she knew Sam tried to drive smoothly, there was no way he could avoid the awkward shifts and change in speed that made her head jerk forward and her body brace against the seat belt. She searched for a comfortable position, adjusted the lap belt, and opened her eyes just as they hit the city. “Something’s wrong,” she said.

  Sam took his eyes off the road quickly and glanced at her. “What?”

  Suzie felt light-headed. She pressed her tongue hard against the roof of her mouth and counted to ten before she answered. “I think, I’m pretty sure, I’m bleeding.” She said the last part in a whisper as she looked down at her lap. She touched her sweater where it was bunched between her thighs and quickly moved a hand to her puffy abdomen. She couldn’t be sure of what she was feeling. There wasn’t any cramping or lower back pain. At least she wasn’t in labor, not yet anyway. “Can you get over to the hospital? Now?”

  Sam nodded and jerked the car to the right. Suzie flinched as a taxi swerved around them. She fumbled with her cell phone, her top lip caught in her bottom teeth. She jabbed at the screen over and over, leaving messages first for Michael, then for her doctor, and then she clutched the phone in her hand until her knuckles turned white. A few minutes later it finally rang: the nurse told her she was in luck; her doctor was doing rounds at the hospital and had already been warned of her arrival.

  Suzie ended the call and repeated the phrase: I’m in luck. The word luck was no comfort to someone who had lost so many pregnancies before this one.

  Sam pulled up to the entrance as Suzie directed him to, the one that said no passenger drop-offs. She fumbled in her bag for her doctor’s credentials. As soon as Sam slowed down, a burly guy in a security jacket stepped forward to tell him he couldn’t be stopped at the curb. Suzie flashed her badge out the passenger’s side window and he backed off.

  Suzie opened the door before Sam had come to a complete stop. Over her shoulder from between gritted teeth she said, “I can get a wheelchair and a nurse at the desk. Find Michael, he’s here somewhere.” She hesitated before she tossed Sam her cell phone. She didn’t know what was ahead of her. Sam would have a better chance of talking to Michael. Suzie walked away before Sam could even respond. She walked slowly, her coat doubled over and wrapped around her waist. She tried hard not to think about what was happening, even though she wanted to be prepared. A cold sweat broke out on the back of her neck as the sliding glass doors to the emergency room opened and Suzie walked inside.

  It didn’t take long for the ER docs to transfer her to the maternity ward. Her staff credentials and the presence of her OB sped up the process, and in under an hour they had a diagnosis. Her placenta was detaching from the uterus. But the baby had a strong heartbeat. For the best chance of a full-term birth, Suzie would have to remain in bed most likely until the end of her pregnancy.

  “If you’re lucky,” her doctor had said, “we’ll get another eleven weeks at least.”

  Suzie had stared at him. There was that word again: luck. She knew the survival rate increased the longer they could keep the baby inside, but a term pregnancy couldn’t really have anything to do with luck, could it? If you counted the previous miscarriages, wouldn’t that make her the unluckiest mother-to-be in the world? Why should this time be any different?

  Every time the door opened Suzie expected to see Michael. She had lost all track of time, had no idea how long she had been in the hospital, let alone the room. Had everyone disappeared? Not even Sam had shown up yet and she had given him strict instructions to find his brother. Suzie grabbed at a nurse who had just entered the room. “Has anyone seen my husband? Dr. Michael Turner? He’s on cardiology—pediatrics.”

  “You have to relax,” the nurse said as she removed the sheet to adjust the monitor. She frowned slightly at the belt and smoothed it out before
she pulled the sheet back up. “I’ll get the desk to page him, okay?”

  Suzie nodded. She felt the tears that had been hovering at the corners of her eyes roll down her cheeks and into the creases under her chin. The nurse pulled a tissue from her pocket and dabbed at Suzie’s face. “I promise. Don’t get your pressure up. They’ll make me stick you again.” She gave her a half smile, half frown. She had a kind face, and Suzie searched it for an answer as to what her future would bring.

  After the nurse left Suzie, she had nothing to do but listen to the heartbeats, hers and the baby’s, along with the automatic whoosh of the blood pressure cuff. She shifted in the bed. The chux pads beneath her bare ass were bunched between her legs, and she attempted to straighten them out without moving too much. She placed her hands over her abdomen, careful not to disturb the monitor, and tried to tune out the noise from the other side of the door. She knew just down the hall babies were being delivered and she shut her eyes and imagined herself as one of those women. Eleven weeks. She would not accept the other option.

  At the sound of the door Suzie opened her eyes. Michael. He took four long steps and bent over her bed and held her face cupped in the palms of his hands. He looked in her eyes and whispered everything she wanted to hear. They would be okay. Their baby would be okay. He wouldn’t let anything happen to them. That was everything she needed.

  By the time Marguerite and Hunt arrived at the hospital Suzie was propped against a tower of pillows in bed, attempting to eat and drink from a semi-prone position. Although she was tired and not really up for a late-night visit from all of them, she insisted Michael let them come in. Sam, who had been exiled to the waiting area hours earlier, had finally called his father in a panic, which was what had brought them to the hospital.

  Right before they arrived, Sam had come into the room. That was the first time Suzie had seen Michael crack. He frowned at Sam and his face sort of melted into a shudder and by the time he was in front of him he was choking back tears. Sam opened his arms and Michael stepped into them, clinging to his brother. Overwhelmed by the ferocity of Michael’s reaction and Sam’s awkward attempt at comfort, Suzie had to look away.

  Hunt took the chair next to the bed and reached for Suzie’s hand, while Michael and Marguerite stood talking in low voices by the door. Sam had been playing with the channel changer and had been sucked into an episode of Law & Order. The sound offered a fill-in-the-blank purpose to the silence and now Sam was pressed up against the wall between the monitors and the bathroom, in an attempt to focus on the TV but not take up any more space.

  Hunt patted her hand. “Don’t worry, Elizabeth. You’re going to be fine.”

  Suzie froze. “Suzie,” she said gently. “Hunt, I’m Suzie.”

  “Of course,” Hunt said, as if they were in on the same joke. “Of course you are, dear girl.”

  Suzie looked over at Sam, then Michael and Marguerite. Sam was engrossed in the TV and Michael and Marguerite were still bent together, deep in conversation. Suzie looked back at Hunt. “The baby is good, Hunt, see.” She pointed to the monitor next to her shoulder. A tangle of electrodes and wires from beneath the sheets connected her to the screen, transmitting a constant stream of information.

  Hunt relaxed back in the chair as he gazed at the screen. “That’s the heart of a strong Turner baby if I ever saw one.”

  Suzie smiled, but she recalled several other lapses she had witnessed. At the time she had chalked them all up to Hunt’s naturally scattered disposition. Always a million things going on at once, that was her father-in-law. She was relieved when Marguerite stepped forward and placed her hand on his shoulder. “We should go, Hunt. We want Suzie to rest.”

  Hunt nodded, totally agreeable. He did not look at Suzie again or say goodbye. Michael caught his father’s arm as he passed and gave him a one-armed hug. “We’ll talk tomorrow,” Michael said, to which Hunt offered a singularly unusual grunt of acknowledgment.

  As the door closed Sam looked at Michael. Suzie wasn’t sure what, if anything, he had heard or noticed. Perhaps Hunt was simply tired, worried, or out of sorts. It was late, and he had been in a constant state of adjustment since his official retirement. Marguerite had been spending more time with Sam than with Hunt, consumed by the project of the restaurant. Hunt hadn’t seemed to want a role other than a few routine legal issues that he took care of right away, and he had even delegated the work of budgeting and balance sheets to his accountant. Suzie ran a hand over her eyes and rubbed. It was nothing. It had to be nothing. It had been a long night.

  “I should go too.” Sam stood between the bed and his brother. Michael reached out a hand as if they were going to shake and then he pulled Sam to him quickly before they released.

  “Would you call Mom?” Michael asked. “I just want her to know, and I’m not sure when I’ll get a chance.”

  “Sure, I can do that.”

  “Thanks,” Michael said softly.

  Sam looked over at Suzie and joked, “You can thank me by naming my niece or nephew after me: Sam, Samantha, it works either way.”

  Suzie and Michael rewarded him with a laugh, and Michael said, “Is that all?”

  “Oh,” Suzie said, her brow wrinkling, “I’m going to miss your dinner next week!” She tried to hide a yawn, but her eyes were at half-mast.

  “You can be my first takeout order.” Sam waved a hand in her direction, then nudged Michael toward the chair as he opened the door to leave.

  Suzie felt her limbs go limp. She felt the baby flutter-kick beneath her rib cage. Michael hunched over with his head resting near Suzie’s stomach, and she picked up his hand and placed it on the right spot. The baby moved again and now there was a tight little knot there until its limbs repositioned. Suzie didn’t realize she had been holding her breath until Michael spoke. “That’s my boy.”

  “What?”

  Michael shrugged and looked sheepish, his chin tucked to his chest, looking up at her from underneath heavy lids. “I was being a sexist prick. Our little girl could have that kick too.” He smiled before he put his head back down on the mattress.

  Suzie wound her fingers in Michael’s hair. She sunk deep into the pillows and closed her eyes. She saw them as they were, united in love for each other and their unborn child. For this one moment they were protected, in a bubble. They had expected the worst and it hadn’t happened. Not this time.

  SEVENTEEN

  One Crush Away

  Bella—2011

  The incessant buzzer caused Bella to sit straight up in bed, the blankets and sheets wound tightly around her limbs as if she’d been riding a bicycle in her sleep. For a minute, she had no idea where she was and her heart pounded in her ears until her eyes focused on the familiar shadows in the room. Home. She had been deeply asleep after nights of not sleeping at all. She was home. She peered at her alarm, afraid it was time to get up for work, but the clock confirmed that was hours away. This block and her building were usually quiet and she wondered if someone had been locked out and was randomly hitting buzzers. Except the consistency with which her buzzer was being hit would suggest it was more than coincidence.

  She crawled from her bed and pressed the intercom. “Seriously?” she asked, her voice clogged with sleep. She hoped her anger transmitted through the ancient system and out the front stoop to the person with the excitable finger.

  “Bella! Bella, it’s me, Sam.”

  “Sam? What?”

  “Sam Turner.”

  “Sam, I know who you are. Why are you here?”

  “Can I—can we talk?”

  Bella looked around the room as if someone, anyone, would tell her how bad an idea this really was. Sam probably had no idea that Ted was gone. Bella had been so embarrassed by her gigantic relationship fail that it had taken her forever to even tell Suzie, and then she begged her to keep it a secret. So for all he knew Ted could come bursting through the door. “It’s almost two, do you know that?” Bella asked as she pressed the button to unlo
ck the front door. She put her ear against the door and heard the front door open and shut and then the thud of feet on the stairs. She realized she was standing in her pajamas, and she grabbed at the first thing she saw, her mother’s fur, which lived on a hook by the door.

  Bella’s apartment was on the top floor. She stepped out onto the landing. As Sam rounded the third floor he looked up the flight of stairs. Bella crossed and uncrossed her arms over her mother’s old fur. She ruffled the tangles out of her hair with her fingers and touched the pillow crease in her cheek. Sam stopped short and just looked at her before he slowly walked up the next flight to where she was standing.

  Bella rubbed at her eyes with a curled fist and blinked as he stopped on the step just below her. “Why are you here?”

  “I was at the hospital with Suzie.”

  Her eyes widened, and she felt instantly awake. “Oh my God, no. What happened?”

  “She was bleeding, and then they did something to make it stop. I think she has to be in bed for the rest of, well, you know.” He hesitated. “I’m sorry, I didn’t really think this out. I wanted to tell you but I guess I don’t know the correct terms or—the thing is that she and the baby are okay.”

  “Way to bury the lede.” Bella exhaled. “I’d like to kill the messenger now.”

  “I’m sorry. I was thinking all the way here what I was going to say and then I saw you.” Sam shook his head. “I’m sorry,” he said again.

  “That still doesn’t explain why you’re here. You could have called me to tell me. Anyone could have called.”

  “I left my phone in the car.” Sam hesitated. “Is that your mother’s coat? I haven’t seen that in—”

  Bella stroked the fur and hugged herself harder. Of course: the night her mother died they had slept in her bed wrapped in this coat. “Sam,” she said in a weary voice.

  “Bella, I know I didn’t have the right to say any of those things to you. I’m so sorry.”