A Five-Minute Life

She beamed and took two flutes of champagne off a passing tray. “Cheers, darling.” We clinked glasses, and she took a sip. “Now go find your people while I talk business with mine.”

I took my glass and rejoined Jimmy, still holding Jack, who stood talking with Delia and Roger.

I’d long since forgiven my sister. Jimmy took a little bit longer, but he’d come around. Still, the residual guilt was etched into the lines of Delia’s face. Evident in her tentative approach and the stiff peck on my cheek.

“It’s incredible,” she said. “I’m so proud of you. And I know Mom and Dad would be too.”

“Thanks, Deel,” I said. “I think so too. Roger, thanks for coming.”

“Wouldn’t miss it,” he said, a little absently.

“How’s the business in Vancouver?”

He didn’t answer. He turned in a small circle, hands in his pockets, staring at the paintings.

“Roger, honey,” Delia said mildly. “My sister asked you a question.”

“Hm? Oh. Sorry, I’m just… It’s mesmerizing. Just… incredible. The evolution of it… It’s as if different people painted them at the different stages, yet it’s entirely unified.”

“Wow, Roger.” I pecked him on the cheek and whispered, “Thank you so much.”

“It’s all true. Your work is—”

“I meant for making my sister happy.” I itched to joke that it was a Herculean task, but I was too full of happiness myself to make bad jokes.

“Jack’s getting so big,” Delia said. By choice, she’d never had children of her own, but I sometimes wondered if she regretted it. Especially when she was looking at Jack with such longing.

“Here.” I handed Jimmy my champagne and lifted Jack out of his arms to pass him to Delia. “Would you and Roger watch this little bugger? I need to talk to my handsome husband for a sec.”

Delia bounced Jack on her hip. “You want to see Mommy’s paintings? Come on. Uncle Roger and I will show you our favorites.”

She put Jack down and held his hand as they walked toward the “Transition” display. Only a few steps, then Jack was reaching arms up to Roger, wanting to be carried again.

“We made him,” I said to Jimmy.

“Yeah, we did,” Jim said. “He’s a little miracle.”

I nodded, my heart crashing against my chest. “Our life has been filled with miracles.”

“It has.” Jimmy tried to hand me the champagne. “To you, baby. They love it, don’t they?”

“They do. But I don’t want the booze.” I sucked in a breath. “Or, moreover, I can’t have it.”

“Why not?” he asked and then stared, his eyes widening.

I nodded, tears springing to my eyes that I could finally say the words. “I’m pregnant.”

He still didn’t move. “What?”

I bit back a laugh at his dumbfounded expression. “I’m going to have another baby.”

Jimmy’s brows came together, the struggle of having Jack passing behind his eyes. The glass in his hand shook, and I took it and set it down before he dropped it.

“How…?” He swallowed. “How did that happen?”

“Well, when a man and a woman love each other very much, the man—you, in this case—puts his enormous penis inside the woman—”

Jimmy shook his head, caught halfway between laughter and shock. “Wait, wait, wait. Stop. Go back. Say it again.”