When Girlfriends Take Chances Read online

  “There was a lot going on, so it made sense for you to stick around. But, Emily…” Lara’s voice suddenly goes dry. “Not to be the fly in the ointment but, well.” She twists her mouth to the side and pauses, searching for the right words as if not to offend.

  “Spill it.” Lara knows she doesn’t have to tread on eggshells around me. “Tell it like you see it. Be honest.” I take another quick drink before setting the glass down on the coffee table.

  “First it’s all no commitment with marriage, with Bobby and Robin,” she says. “Then it’s wanting to jet off to a new location, not committing to staying in one place.” I nod approvingly. “I mean— You’re still not serious about—” She raises both eyebrows and halts.

  I take a seat next to her, not exactly sure what she’s referring to. I hug my knees to my chest and catch sight of one of my camera batteries lying on top of the antique wine cabinet I found at a flea market in Provence ages ago. I make a mental note to charge the battery, and before I start to veer down memory lane of my backpacking trip around Europe as a student, Lara’s words snap me back to.

  “I mean, I think it’s pretty valiant of you. It’s a bold move, Em. A major and bold move.” She’s now watching me appraisingly as I roll my beechwood ring methodically around and around and—

  “Oh!” I gasp, suddenly realizing what she means. “You mean the paperwork?”

  “All right. ‘Paperwork.’” She makes air quotes. “You’re still considering it an option?”

  I sigh and sink back into the futon. “Considering, yes.” I trace the expansive wing of the light purple and green bird tattoo that’s on my right hip.

  “Seriously considering?”

  “You think it’s crazy of me, don’t you?” I drop my voice an octave and clasp my hands in my lap. “Loopy, can’t-stay-put-in-one-place Emily Saunders goes and does something…er…not so traditional?”

  “You’ve never been the traditional type, Em,” she says. “That’s one reason I love you. You’re fun, spirited, a major heart of gold, open-minded, free-going—”

  “Just not serious?”

  “Hey.” Lara sets her glass down next to mine and leans in closer to me. “I can’t name one other person who would selflessly dedicate an entire year’s worth of time helping build a school in Ghana. Seriousness isn’t it.” She furrows her brow for a second. “I guess commitment really isn’t it, either, then, if we look at it that way.”

  Then she jumps out, “Stability! Yeah! I think that’s what I mean.” Her brow returns to a crease. “Stability, and in that respect seriousness and commitment and, well…staying put. I just don’t think that something this big is really…” She uncomfortably crosses her arms over her chest. “…I don’t think it’s really…something that…maybe not now…maybe later…”

  I try to meet her eyes, but she looks like she’s taking a self-inflicted beating trying to get her point across.

  “Be honest,” I encourage. “You don’t think…”

  “I don’t think you’re in a place to adopt a baby, Emily.”

  Chapter Two

  “I just meant that I think you should really take some time to deeply contemplate this before you go through with the application process,” Lara says on the other end of the line. “It’s not something you do impulsively.”

  Lara rang me up not long after she left, after she told me all the reasons she thought I was one step away from cuckoo’s-nest-insanity for wanting to adopt.

  “It’s a really huge deal, Emily,” she continues. “I don’t want to discourage you from doing something so wonderful, but it’s a life-changing responsibility. This is commitment with a capital ‘C’. It’s a no-going-back kind of thing, you know?”

  I toss aside yesterday’s issue of The New York Times. “Of course I know it’s a big deal, Lara. I’m not stupid. It’s something I want to look into, that’s all. An idea.”

  “Look,” Lara says with a heavy sigh, “I know you’re a thrill-seeker, an adventurer. You’re always searching for something new and exciting, and that’s great.” She pauses for an agonizingly long time. “But when it comes to a baby—” Another long pause comes, broken by a tugboat sound from her lips. “Can’t you just climb Mount Everest or something like that, Em?”

  For the past couple of months I’ve been thinking a lot about my future, about where I want to go next. Like I’ve said, I’ve been in Seattle for a while now, and I’m really getting the itch to go somewhere, anywhere! I want to photograph cheetahs in Maasai Mara National Reserve in Kenya. I want to try my hand at writing lines of Sanskrit poetry or learn new mantras while practicing yoga on the Seminyak beach. I want to participate in an authentic Native American tribal dance or help build a well for a war-torn village. It’s exploration and change and experience and enlightenment that I’m constantly craving. It’s meaning and purpose and the ability to affect change, make a positive difference, and inspire or encourage that I’m after. I want adventure!

  I kind of figured that adopting a child in need, someone with essentially no hope of escape from a poor background and future, would be the ideal opportunity. Surely becoming a mother would naturally ground me. I’d instantly become more “committed” or “reliable” or “there” with a baby requiring a world of responsibility from me. It was at least worth consideration. I mean, like I said, it was an idea.

  “Also,” I say to Lara when I give it a good thought, “I have the resources. The financial resources. I could do some good for a parentless child.”

  “I know. But it takes more than that, Em.” Lara’s tone is both understanding and cautioning. “Just because you’ve got the cash doesn’t mean you should go out and buy the Ferrari or the glittering piece in the Tiffany’s window. You know what I mean?”

  I let out a loud laugh. “So now a baby’s like a sports car or an expensive trinket? Neither of which, by the way, do I own.”

  “You know what I mean.”

  “Yeah,” I say resignedly. “Prudent Lara.”

  “I’m only thinking of what’s best, Emily. You know that.”

  Lara’s a very levelheaded woman. Well, not counting the time she decided to shack up with and stalk a married man from her office, but that’s another story.

  She’s always been kind of the big sister figure for me and our whole group of girls. For example, she raced to help Robin out with baby Rose. And she teamed up with Claire’s mom, an event designer, to help get Claire’s dream wedding more on track of being, well, a dream wedding.

  Lara gave the same sisterly attention to our friend, Sophie Wharton, when she acted as the go-between to help Sophie and Robin move beyond a major falling out they had years ago, when Robin had a slip-up with Sophie’s boyfriend. It all turned out all right, thanks to Lara emphasizing the importance of dear friends and close bonds. And, well, little Rose’s surprise appearance really made that dramatic event turn out just fine, too.

  As for Jackie, let’s just say that Lara’s bank account might as well have been a joint one, in Jackie’s name, back before Jackie became the wealthy Mrs. Andrew Kittredge. Jackie’s more on her feet—at least financially—now that she’s married, but she never had to worry before. That’s Lara, though. She gets down to business, she wants to lend a hand, and she likes to help out wherever she can.

  “I appreciate your levelheadedness,” I say, lying down on the futon. I prop one hand lazily under my head and stare up at the grotty old popcorn ceiling.

  Hmm, maybe I have outgrown this place and it’s time to get a new pad.

  Besides, if I were serious about going through with an adoption—and really, I’m realizing it is a rather preposterous idea—this place is nowhere near acceptable as a home for a child. I mean, the back porch door doesn’t even lock properly, and I have no space for a crib, a baby buggy, or any number of other things a child needs.

  “So what’s that mean?” Lara says. “You appreciate my levelheadedness but—” I hear a clicking noise on the line. “One sec. It�
��s the office.”

  Waiting for Lara to return, I pull myself upright and remove the discreet manila folder from the shelf under the coffee table.

  ADOPTION INFORMATION blares at me in thick black Sharpie. I flip the folder open, and the first sheet of paperwork flutters up and falls to the floor. The second page in the folder is filled with information about The Applicant—everything from my employment record to my place of birth, even a category called, Future Plans/Goals.

  “Hmm,” I mutter, bringing the sheet up for closer inspection.

  I’ve only filled out approximately a quarter of the entire application, a testament to how serious I must be about making such a decision. Especially when you consider I’ve had this information for a couple months.

  Under Future Plans/Goals, unlike the remaining questions above it on the sheet, the space is stark white. I can’t exactly remember why I left this section unanswered. Looking at the succeeding page, which is completely filled out, my mind is boggled as to why I decided to either skip this section all together, or forgot about it, or simply scanned over and miss—

  “Em?” Lara’s voice returns. She sounds hurried.

  “What’s up? Office in flames?” I tease. Lara works for an advertising firm, and she’s crazy-skilled at what she does as an executive.

  “As always,” she says. “I swear, ever since I got this promotion, I’ve been looking at a ton more weekend work.” She sighs. “It’s all worth it, though. Exhausting sometimes, that’s all. So!” She snaps to a more cheerful tone. “I don’t mean to harangue you; I only want to be honest.”

  “Don’t worry, Lara,” I say breezily. I retrieve the fallen paper and stuff it out of order back into the folder. “I’m not going through with it.”

  “What?” She sounds completely taken aback.

  “I’m not going through with the adoption.” I limply return the paperwork to the shelf.

  “Wha—what made you change your mind?”

  “Your powers of persuasion are apparently that brilliant,” I say in jest.

  “Ha, ha. No, seriously. What gives?”

  I snag my backup camera battery as I make my way into my bedroom. “My future plans and goals.”

  “Huh?”

  “My future plans and goals,” I repeat, stepping into my bedroom. It’s a small disaster—a conglomeration that makes you think Seattle Photography & Film Supplies and Nordstrom have seismically erupted and coalesced on my floor and bed.

  “Oh, Jackie,” I mumble, plugging the battery into the charger. Jackie was supposed to come by and take or clean up some of the crap she’d tossed about. Sometimes she likes to crash here or pop on by and hang out, and half the drawers and closet space still belong to her from when she was living here before she moved in with her husband, Andrew.

  “Jackie’s future plans and goals?” Lara says, obviously way past confused.

  I pick up a neon-pink high heel and search for its match, grabbing a Victoria’s Secret carrier bag from atop the dresser.

  “No,” I say. “Jackie’s just forgotten to pick up her crap, as usual. Silly girl.”

  I find the heel’s match, its pointy toe sticking out from under my bed. “No, my goals and future plans,” I clarify. “I don’t really know what they are, but I do know that a baby’s not in the cards.” I retrieve the heel and notice a strand of pearls hanging out of it. “If I can’t even tell the adoption agency what my plans or goals are in life, how the hell am I qualified to even make it through the application process, much less become a mother?”

  Lara lets out a breathy sigh of what can only be relief.

  “It was only an idea and nothing more,” I tell her. “I don’t think I really ever intended to go through with it, in all honesty.” I stuff a lacy bra, a wrap dress, and the high heels and pearl necklace into the carrier bag. “I was curious. I want my options open, that’s all. I think it was a sign that I need to do something…well, serious with my life. You know?”

  “Going back to Ghana?”

  “Ohhh,” I plop onto my bed. “Who knows what! Rest assured, no adoption…maybe in the future.” The line stays silent. “When I’m more settled down and good and ready,” I add decisively. “I’m twenty-eight, I’m young, I’m unattached—”

  “That’s what you need to address,” Lara interrupts.

  “Address?” I mindlessly pull a shimmery black and silver top from under a pillow and place it into the carrier bag.

  “Your future. Your life’s goals. You’re unattached, and I think you need a man.”

  “If you mean a good lay—”

  “No,” she says in a deep voice. “I don’t mean a good lay—”

  “—I had my wedding sex, thank you very much.”

  “What?” Lara’s voice is so loud it’s as if she’s crawled through the phone and is right back inside my apartment. “You what?!”

  “Oh yeah,” I say casually, tossing yet another shimmery article of Jackie’s clothing into the bag. “The DJ.”

  “Emilyyyy. You are unbelievable.”

  “What?”

  I really don’t see the big deal. Two consenting adults… I mean, what do you expect when you’re single, at a wedding, and you’ve got loads of bubbly enticingly sitting there on passing trays? It’s a recipe for a quickie.

  “Look, if it helps ease your mind—” I begin.

  “Ease my mind?” Lara tosses out a laugh. “It’s not my mind I’m worried about. It’s you.”

  “If it helps ease your mind, Claire had already nudged him in my direction. It wasn’t a complete random one-off.”

  “Yeah,” she scoffs. “That makes it a lot better.”

  “You know Claire, always eager to play Cupid.” I swear, if Claire had it her way, all us girls would be set up with the guy of her divine choosing, and we’d all be hitched. “And I’m not as promiscuous as you might think, Lara.”

  It’s true, in college and, I’ll admit, some years following, I often “hooked up” with at least halfway attractive members of the opposite sex in lieu of the expected three dates and then action, and in lieu of the occasional relationship. I’ve had plenty of dates and relationships, mind you, and sometimes…I don’t know. You hit it off with a guy and you like him, but he’s not like “real relationship material,” you know? Not the kind of guy you want to be, well, seen with, and definitely not the kind of guy you show off to your best friends or go on double dates with. Sometimes, a girl just needs to get—

  “Emily, I don’t think you’re promiscuous,” Lara says. “I think you’ve got a million ideas going at once that you’re sometimes barking up the wrong tree. Adoption…wanting to move again…DJ booty…”

  I lightly scratch at the small gold stud in my nose. “Yeah, well.”

  “Maybe instead of filling out adoption applications, you could take a look at your love life. Address that situation.”

  “Ever the romantic are we, Lara?” I say with a slight giggle.

  Lara recently hit the jackpot with her boyfriend, Nathan, a cook who took our friend Sophie’s place over at her old job. Sophie used to work at a catering outfit, but now she’s got her own café, The Cup and the Cake, and she actually did play Cupid…and evidently successfully. She hooked Lara up with Nathan, and so far so good.

  “I’m not talking marriage, Em,” Lara says with what I bet is a roll of the eyes. “I’m saying instead of thinking of a baby to help settle you down, let’s go traditional and start with the man. What about your new book club?”

  “What about my new book club?” I toss a throw pillow into the general area where it should be at the head of the bed. I then toss its partner, a shimmery silver thong flying along with it.

  “Is there anyone there who, ohhh, I don’t know…” Her voice trails in a somewhat sarcastic way. “Anyone who might be ‘real deal material’ and whom you could see yourself settling down with? Then having a child?”

  “I don’t think so.” I rub at my forehead. “I don’t go to my book cl
ub to search for eye candy. I go to discuss books.” I throw the thong underwear into the carrier bag.

  “Off topic,” Lara says, “but how are you liking Pride and Prejudice?”

  I raise my eyebrows in surprise. Yeah, that book…

  “Erm,” I stammer, “I haven’t exactly started it. But I will!” It’s one of Lara’s favorites, despite her penchant for the nitty-gritty kind of books from Dean Koontz. She loaned me her copy when she heard the classic was on my club’s roster. I still have a few weeks until the book club discusses it, so there’s plenty of time to start it.

  “Emily, why do you join the club if you don’t read the books?”

  “In my defense, it was only just assigned and—and—I’ll get to it when I get to it.”

  “You and commitment,” she mumbles.

  “Ha, ha.” I give a couple fluffs to the two toss pillows. “It’s not an adventurous kind of book, no swashbuckling pirates and intrepid explorers. No Heart of Darkness going on, so you really can’t blame me for not devouring it.”

  “Whatever,” she dismisses. “Well, how about you table the baby talk and start with the man. I’m talking a serious and lasting relationship. Then we can take it from there.”

  I leap from my bed and begin to pick up more scattered items of clothing and—what’s this? A bottle of Chanel N°5 and a blush brush. Oh, Jackie, I think to myself as I cram the beauty items, along with a small copper clutch of hers, into the carrier bag.

  “Yeah, yeah,” I say to Lara. “I’ll let fate work its magic. And speaking of men, isn’t yours coming to pick you up for a hot date or something?”

  “Soon, and I’ve still got to handle the mess at work before then. Look, I’m glad you’re not barking up the baby tree right now. And I guess I’m glad you found your wedding…” She trails off to clear her throat.

  “Meh.” I finish filling the bag with as much stuff as I can and saunter back into the living room. “Cupid Claire definitely shot off a wonky arrow, but hey, it was what it was. He may be a DJ, but it doesn’t mean he can move and groove.”