Baby proof

will become so much more than my life. It is almost as if I'm jealous of her. Which is insane because obviously I do not want a baby. I do not.

I start wondering what I always wonder when I have irrational, uncontrollable emotions of any kind: Is it normal to feel this way? Do other people feel wistful over something they don't want in the first place? I hope that the answer is yes, as there is always something comforting about knowing that you are not alone. That other people feel the way you do. That you are a bit screwed up, but still normal.

Jess reclines on my bed, staring up at the ceiling, as I scramble to come up with an analogy, something that will make sense of the way I'm feeling. My mind lands on my first love, Charlie, whom I occasionally run in to when I'm back in Huntington. Charlie is a firefighter in my hometown-which means he spends his weekdays rescuing stray dogs and cats and teaching fire safety at our old elementary school. He spends his weekends watching Jets games and chain-smoking Camel Lights with his high school buddies and playing in the backyard with his four kids. I would wager that Charlie doesn't own a passport and hasn't read a book since graduation. In short, his life is nothing like mine-and life with Charlie would never have been enough for me. But when I see him, I still feel a small burst of longing remembering the way it felt to be sixteen, emerging from a movie theater on a warm summer night and then parking in Charlie's car while we made out and listened to his cassette mix of love songs. And yet I do not confuse these feelings for actually wanting to be with Charlie.

I don't want a baby, either, but I feel a pang anyway. A very small pang, but still one that makes me blurt out to Jess, 'If I had known this were going to happen…'

Jess's eyes widen. She says my name slowly, as a question.

'What?' I say innocently.

'Are you having second thoughts?'

'About what?' I say.

'About Ben? About having a baby? About having Ben's baby?' she says, looking concerned, suspicious, and hopeful all at once.

'No,' I say emphatically. 'Don't be ridiculous. No second thoughts here.'

'Well, I guess that's a good thing,' Jess says slowly. 'Because if you were having second thoughts, your life would be, like, ten times more fucked up than mine is right about now.'

I look at her and say again, 'No second thoughts here.'

The next morning I stay in bed, reading Wuthering Heights for about the fiftieth time. It is my favorite book of all time. And I think I love it even more now that my own relationship has ended. In a perverse way, I almost enjoy feeling as tormented as Cathy was over Heathcliff.

I find my favorite lines and read aloud to myself: 'My great thought in living is himself. If all else perished, and he remained, I should still continue to be… He's always, always in my mind-not as a pleasure… but as my own being.'

I sigh and flip to another clutch passage: 'Because misery and degradation, and death, and nothing that God or Satan could inflict would have parted us, you, of your own will, did it. I have not broken your heart-you have broken it; and in breaking it, you have broken mine.'

Then, just as I'm getting all riled up in the satisfying, melodramatic throes of passion and despair, I think of how, early in our relationship, Ben read the book at my insistence. His first words when he finished the book were: 'Well. That Heathcliff is a real laugh a minute, huh?' I smile, remembering how I laughed then.

And in that instant, my cell phone rings. I irrationally expect it to be Ben calling, but when I look down at the screen on my phone, I see that it's just Daphne. I answer, and she asks me what's new. It's not until that second that I process how bad it will be when she finds out about Jess. I take the path of least resistance and tell her nothing is new at all. Jess can share the news herself. I'm not going to unless I absolutely have to.

'What's going on with you?' I deflect.

'Oh, not much,' she says.

'Did Tony's results come in?' I ask.

'Yeah,' she says. 'They did.'

'And?'

'He's fine. No problems at all,' she says, her voice sounding strangely high-pitched and happy. It occurs to me that maybe she is pregnant, but I don't dare ask. Instead I keep the conversation safe and say, 'So what else is going on?'

'Oh, you know, just getting back in the swing of the school year… Working on some new bulletin boards and stuff.'

'That's good,' I say. 'Your bulletin boards are amazing.'

'Aww, Thanks, Claudia,' she says.

There is a long pause and then Daphne says, 'So, Claudia, do you think you can come over for dinner tomorrow? Around seven? I want to make you my lasagna.'

'Is Maura coming?' I ask.

'No.'

'Mom or Dad?'

'No. Just you. I thought it would be fun!' she says.

'Sure, Daph,' I say, concluding that she's probably not pregnant. If she were, she'd likely invite us all over. But the way my life is going, I'm pretty sure that some baby talk will be involved.

The next evening I take the train to Huntington. As I step down from the platform, I see Daphne waving at me from her bright yellow Mini-Cooper. I walk toward her and can see something in her face that looks unnatural and exaggerated. Like a beginning actress pretending to be happy.

When I get to the car, I say, 'Hey, Daph!' recognizing the false cheer in my own voice. I realize that it's mighty difficult to act normal when someone else is behaving oddly.

We make small talk on the drive back to her house, discussing her kids at school. She also tells me, in terms that go way beyond effusive, how much she adored Amy Dickerson's novel. She says she selected it for her book club even though they usually stick with chick lit.

'The girls are going to love it,' she says. 'It's just so… thought-provoking.'

I glance at Daphne, thinking that it is quite possibly the first time Daphne has ever referred to her thoughts as being provoked. My sister is not at all dumb, but she is far from introspective.

When we get to her house, Daphne clicks open the garage door. I see Tony's black minivan parked inside and mentally rule out marital problems. At least anything imminent. Then again, this strange brand of chipperness would not really make sense in the context of divorce. Something else is going on.

'Home again, home again, jiggity jig!' Daphne says with a nervous laugh. It is what my father says every single time he pulls into our garage. Daphne picked the habit up. Maybe I would, too, if I had a garage to pull into.

I follow Daphne into the kitchen, say hello to her two yapping Yorkies, Anna and Gary, and survey a hearty spread of crab puffs made from English muffins and a lot of butter. Daphne is not a fancy cook-she just does the basics exceptionally well. Tony is sitting at the counter watching a baseball game, but when he sees us, he stands, walks over to me and kisses me on the cheek. 'It's wonderful to see you, Claudia!' he says, sounding as stilted as my sister.

'It's wonderful to see you, too, Tony,' I say.

Daphne turns down the volume on the TV and says sweetly, 'Could you please turn the music back on, honey?'

He obliges, as I say, 'Wow, Daph. Crab puffs. What's the special occasion?'

She gives me an innocent expression. 'No special occasion. I-we-just wanted to have you over. That's all. Right, Tone?'

'Uh-huh,' Tony says. 'That's right.'

I can feel myself grinning. 'Uh-huh.'

'What?' Daphne says innocently.

I laugh. 'Something is going on here.'