When Dr. Lopez is gone, Bea folds her arms in front of her and glares at me .
“You know, that’s a pretty rude way to treat the mother of your children, Ava,” she growls .
I snort, then shrug, letting the gown fall into the laundry basket and pulling my maternity dress back on. It’s remarkably comfortable, actually. Most maternity dresses are nice and loose around the middle, gathered under the bosom. I still look like a shapely girl, as much as I can anyway. Way better than the potato sacks they dressed my mother in twenty five years ago .
“We can all find out at the same time, on the big day,” I say reasonably. “It’ll keep everybody from trying to name them too. Everybody can just butt out. The less information, the better, as far as I’m concerned .”
“You’re a jerk,” Bea informs me .
“Yeah, well, you’re a jerk too, and you’re not even pregnant,” I shoot back, slipping into my ballet flats .
She shrugs, which I take as some kind of silent agreement .
As we walk out, I watch an extremely pregnant lady waddling past the reception area. That’ll be me, in just a few more months. I guess I don’t waddle just yet. So I’ve got that going for me .
“Will you tell your mom at least ?”
“Nope,” I say as I push the down arrow button on the elevator .
I press my lips together tightly, trying to suppress the wave of emotions that starts to come over me. I don’t want to feel these feelings, not now. I’ve got an envelope with my babies’ genders right there in my purse. I’ve got everything to be happy about. I don’t want to be sad .
“So, uh… when’s the last time you talked to him?” Bea asks me in a small, gentle voice .
I look up at the LED display, trying to figure out how long the elevator is going to take to get to the garage .
“Ava?” she prods .
“Two months,” I finally answer .
“All the way back when you told him you didn’t want to talk to him anymore ?”
“Yep,” I admit .
She shrugs. “I suppose it’s good that he’s finally learning to be obedient ?”
“I suppose .”
I lean heavily against the rail as the elevator zips us back down to the parking garage. Two months really is a long time .
“You know, you could invite him to the shower …”
My eyebrows go up. “Excuse me? The what ?”
Bea smiles hugely, clapping and bouncing up and down. “The shower!” she announces brightly. “I wasn’t supposed to tell you yet, but your mom and I have been planning it! We’re throwing you a shower, you pregnant twerp !”
“You don’t have to do that,” I object as we walk through the parking garage. Bea’s little Honda is always hiding in parking spaces, and we never remember to write down where we left it .
“Of course we need to do that!” she gasps, appalled. “Baby showers are awesome! You get to have presents… and brunch… and play stupid games, with bows on your head, diaper cakes for dessert… It’s classic !”
“Oh my God, no. Baby showers are the worst !”
She nods, clearly excited. “I know! We’re having so much fun setting it up !”
I roll my eyes, finally spotting the broken taillight of Bea’s humble little car. I don’t think I’ve ever enjoyed a baby shower, but it is really sweet of her to do this .
“And you’re planning this all with my mom ?”
She winks at me. “Sure am. She’s really excited. You should totally talk to her more often! I don’t think she’s even mad anymore, honest .”