Baby proof

life mistakes. Sometimes it's just not worth looking too closely. Unless those mistakes can still be fixed.

'Well,' I say, wondering if it's too late for my sister and me. 'Aren't we just the pretty pair?'

'We sure are,' Maura says with a fragile laugh. 'We sure are.'

twenty-six

Another two weeks pass as I agonize over how to get in touch with Ben. Should I drop in on him unannounced? Should I call his apartment? His cell? Office? Should I send an e-mail? Mail him a haiku?

Break up with Tucker She is not the one for you! I'll have your baby.

Of course the haiku is a joke, but the point is, I'm actually writing them in my head, drafting e-mail messages on the back of takeout menus, and practicing heartfelt monologues in the shower. Yet the more I think about my next move, the more indecisive I become. I also grow increasingly paranoid that, in Jess's words, Tucker and Ben's relationship could be 'rapidly solidifying.' She should know, I think, as I watch her fall in love with Michael. It's almost a visible process-like watching a flower unfold its petals on time-lapse photography. I've seen Jess smitten many times before, but for the first time, her emotional intensity is not accompanied by drama and angst. There are no text-message battles. No storming out of bars. No cheating. No jealous rages over ex-boyfriends. Instead, everything between them seems normal and healthy and miraculously two-sided, which is confirmed every time Michael stops by my office. He appears even happier than usual-and the conversation always works its way back to Jess. He asks me open-ended, endearing questions about her-things like, 'What was she like in college?' He wants all the details and background you hunger for when you're smitten with someone.

Of course, I'm delighted with their romance as I get to spend time with two of my best friends at once. It's efficient and comfortable and satisfying.

One rainy Sunday in November, the three of us are lounging in the living room in our sweats, reading the paper, when Jess looks up at me and says, 'You know, Claudia, you really need to call Ben before Thanksgiving.'

'Why?' I say.

She says, 'Because. Thanksgiving is one of those crossroads holidays. You don't want them taking that step together.'

'What step?' I say.

'Spending the holidays together… If that's the direction they're headed in, you have to get in there and bust things up.'

Michael lowers the Business Section and winks at me. 'Yeah. She's right, Claudia. Going home with someone for Thanksgiving is a major step. It's exponentially more significant than merely meeting one's parents.'

As I watch them exchange an adoring glance, I realize that a Thanksgiving invitation has not only been issued, but accepted. I look at Jess, surprised. She has not mentioned a single thing to me about her holiday plans. It occurs to me that, for the first time, she isn't discussing every small aspect of her relationship with me. There are no strategy sessions, no speculation about what Michael is thinking, no analysis about what something he's done (or hasn't done) means (or doesn't mean). Maybe it's because she's never dated a friend of mine before, and she doesn't want to put me in an awkward position. But more likely it's because she's finally in the kind of sincere relationship where you follow your own gut about things rather than polling your friends at every turn.

'Wait,' I say with feigned bewilderment. 'Are you guys spending Thanksgiving together? In Birmingham?'

Jess glows and her voice turns creamy. 'Yes. Michael's coming home with me.'

I look at Michael and say, 'Oh, really? Mighty big step for the likes of you.'

He says, 'Tell me about it. I'm risking my life going down there.'

Jess rolls her eyes and says, 'Would you stop saying that!' She turns to me. 'He acts like he's going back in time to the nineteen fifties when he crosses the Mason-Dixon Line.'

Michael laughs. 'I just don't want to get lynched when I show up with a blonde.'

Jess frowns. She is very proud of her Southern roots, even though she has no desire to live in Alabama again. 'Are you about through?' she says to him.

Michael takes her hand. 'Sorry, babe… You know I can't wait to meet your family and see your old stomping grounds.'

Jess looks fully appeased. Michael leans over and kisses her.

Both of their mouths open slightly as if I'm not in the room. I look down at my paper, picturing Ben doing the same thing to Tucker. Jess and Michael are right, I think. I have to get to Ben before the holidays.

The next morning, I arrive at work determined to contact Ben before the end of the day. I decide that e-mail works best given our last contentious phone conversation. I spend the next half hour at my desk, drafting my salutation. I change Dear Ben to Hello Ben to Hi Ben to just plain Ben. I type a colon, then backspace and replace it with a comma and then opt for my personal favorite-the no-nonsense dash. Incidentally, the semicolon is one of my favorite punctuation marks, too, which Ben once pointed out to me during one of our early e-mail exchanges. He wrote something like, 'Think you have enough semicolons in there? You sure love that little guy.' I wrote back, 'I do love the semicolon; I love you, too.' It was the first time I had written the words out to him. So perhaps a carefully placed semicolon will soften him, remind him how we once were. As I contemplate sentence two, my phone rings. It is Maura. I answer, grateful for the interruption.

'Hey,' I say. 'What's going on?'

'He denied it,' she says.

'Did he really?' I say. I don't know why I'm so surprised. Why would a born and accomplished liar suddenly buck up and tell the truth?

'Yeah,' Maura says wearily. 'And he did so strenuously… and with such detail. He was so good that I almost started to believe him. Which is crazy considering that I've seen the tape and heard the audio. I mean, he's scary good.'

I say, 'Did you tell him you have proof?'

'Not yet,' she says. 'But I'm going to confront him this weekend. I'm going to tell him that I want a divorce… That I'm tired of living a lie. I can't stay with him just for the kids… Besides, I don't even think it's good for them to grow up like this. Kids can always sense when something's wrong. We did.'

'I know,' I say, remembering how wistful I felt after sleep-overs with friends who had parents who seemed to truly love each other. I could usually convince myself that my family was fine until I had evidence of what happy really looked like.

She continues, 'I mean, I really don't think I have a choice here… I think I have to just put my head down and get through this.'

'I'm so sorry, Maura. I wish I could change things for you.'

'I know,' she says. 'Thanks.'

'Do you want the name of my attorney? She's a shark,' I say. 'She'll get you whatever you want.'

'I'm hoping that we can avoid that whole scene. I want to use our family attorney as a mediator-as long as Scott is reasonable. I'm going to tell him that I want to sell the house and split everything. And, of course, I want custody of the kids… That could be the biggest sticking point.'

'Are you sure this is what you want?' I say, feeling a wave of intense grief as I think of those three kids being shuttled back and forth between two houses. Of Maura saying good-bye to her children on Christmas morning when they leave to open presents at their daddy's. I wonder if there is even a small possibility that Scott could still change. If Maura could, somehow, give him one more chance. Or perhaps I'm just thinking of my own haste in getting a divorce and how much self-righteous anger played a part in my quick decision. Was I too concerned with being right and punishing Ben for reneging on our