Surviving Valencia

Mom and Dad would freak out and ground you forever. Oh well. What’s new?

Only a weirdo would rather hang out with an old lady than go to high school!

And I wanted to be normal. So I got off my swing and went home, laying out some jeans and a rugby shirt I had purchased from the Gap. Maybe this would be the year that I stopped being me.

Chapter 44

Upon learning I was pregnant, Adrian and I immediately began preparing the nursery. His enthusiasm surprised me. I rode along on the tails of his baby cheer, slipping in and out of experiencing it.

The small bedroom across the hall from ours was supposed to be my office, but I never used it for anything but a storage place. Adrian hauled everything out while I perused our local hardware store for paint colors. Periwinkle blue would be nice for a boy or a girl, I decided, calling him for his opinion on the matter.

“I can’t picture what a periwinkle is,” he told me.

“Adrian, you’re an artist. You’re supposed to know all the colors.”

“I’m sure it’s great. Bring it home. We can always return it if it doesn’t look like it’s going to work. Don’t forget rollers and a couple of those edgers. Why don’t you grab some treats for the dog while you’re there, if they sell them.”

Ugh. I had forgotten about Frisky. There was no way Frisky was going to be anywhere near our baby. Hopefully, in nine months everything would be peachy and the foreboding gate would be enough to keep us safe from harm.

While I drove home I dialed Jeb’s cell phone to see if he had any news for me. He should be in Minneapolis now. I was hoping he’d be giving me daily updates but so far, not a word from him. My call went straight to his voicemail. I closed my phone calmly and replaced it back inside the pocket in my handbag. Through the actions of my body, perhaps my brain could be tricked into believing this was not a big deal.

But no. My brain was not falling for it. My mind jumped swiftly from the pleasant distraction of paint samples and nursery décor back to the images of my sister.

You have the fence and the dog. Everything is going to be fine.

I thought hard about the nursery. I wanted it to be elegant and edgy. Not too cookie cutter. Adrian’s friends expected so much out of us. It’s like, it was up to us to determine the proper way to live.

Watch them all get fences now.

Watch them all suddenly announce they’re pregnant too.

What a bunch of sheep.

If it was up to me I would just tear a page out of a Pottery Barn catal

og and order everything on it.

But it wasn’t really up to me.

Aren’t women usually in charge of decorating the nursery? He really drives me crazy sometimes.

Adrian had mentioned he thought a black and white themed nursery might be cool, and that the contrast was good for developing minds. I’m not sure about it. I guess my issue is that it doesn’t seem very babyish. But as he pointed out, babies aren’t actually babies for very long.

Why can’t I stop thinking about that picture? I wish I had never seen it.

I gave up on planning the nursery and drove aimlessly for a while, listening to music. Even when I pushed her from the forefront of my mind, I was still experiencing life through a Valencia tinted filter that made everything sad, distracting, false. I was going through the motions, waiting for whatever turning point or resolution Jeb could bring.

For the third time in as many days, I found myself parked in front of the little purple house. This time I was turning off the engine. This time I was serious.

I spritzed myself with perfume and brushed my hair, and touched up my shiny forehead with some powder. Then I got out and smoothed my skirt. I walked up to the front step of Zemma’s House and rang the bell. I waited, not having heard anything ring, but not sure if I should try it again. A car went past that looked rather familiar; at first I thought it might be some of Adrian’s friends, and I shuddered at how stupid I would look standing on the doorstep of a psychic. Just as I was about to chicken out, and just as I was literally thinking “I am about to chicken out,” the door opened and there stood Zemma.

“Chicken out?” she said. “This isn’t voodoo.”

My mouth dropped open. Then I swallowed, though my throat was suddenly completely dry. Anyone else would have gotten the hell out of there. But in a flash I reasoned myself out of it.

Oh my! That was horrible.

I’m scared.