The Nine Month Plan

  “He said . . .” Joe trails off, shifting his weight on the couch.

  Okay. So something’s up.

  Nina prods, “What?”

  “He said we should just get married anyway. For legal purposes.”

  This time, Nina can’t even manage an Oh. She just stares at Joe, her heart starting to pound.

  “I told him that was out of the question, though,” Joe adds quickly. “I said that you and I trust each other implicitly and that there was no way a piece of paper is going to make a difference.”

  “Good,” Nina says weakly. “Because we can’t just go and get married. You did tell him I’m still leaving in July and that you’re raising the baby alone, right?”

  “Of course I did.”

  “Well, how could we get married?”

  “It would just be temporary. To avoid custody complications in case anything—­you know—­and then eventually, we’d get divorced.”

  “Oh.” She toys with the edge of the potato chip bag, crinkling it in her fingers.

  “You keep saying ‘oh.’ ”

  “Well, what do you want me to say? I’m just a little thrown off by this whole thing. What does Danny think I’m going to do? Steal the baby away from you?”

  “He’s a lawyer, Nina.”

  “Yeah, but he’s known me all our lives. He can’t think I’d ever do anything to hurt you.” She narrows her eyes at Joe. “You don’t think that, do you?”

  “No! That’s why I told him to forget it. He just wanted to make sure you weren’t having a change of heart about giving up the baby, I guess. I told him that you weren’t.”

  “Good.”

  Joe nods.

  “Because I’m not,” Nina says firmly, tossing the bag of potato chips onto the coffee table.

  “I know, Nina.”

  She sighs, grabbing a pillow and holding it against her stomach, resting her chin morosely against the top edge.

  “Are you okay, Nina?”

  “Yeah, I’m fine.” She exhales through puffed cheeks and looks at him. “But like I said, Joey, I don’t think we should . . . you know . . . fool around anymore. It’s only making things more complicated.”

  “Maybe you’re right.”

  “I know I am.”

  And she does know that. Really. If only it were going to be as straightforward as she’s making it sound.

  Just . . . stop?

  If only she could turn off her desire for Joey.

  It would help if he weren’t so . . . here. Available. They’ve been spending more time together lately than they ever have, and not just because of the baby. It’s because neither of them is involved with anybody else.

  And you don’t have a prayer of landing a date in your condition, Nina tells herself. But Joey. . .

  “You need to start dating again,” she finds herself saying.

  “Dating?” He looks at her as though she has just suggested that he hop on the R train just for fun and ride it to the end of the line. Naked.

  “Yeah, Joey . . . there’s no reason not to. I mean, the sooner you get back out there and start dating, the sooner you’re going to find this baby a mom.”

  “You make it sound so . . . like I’ll be interviewing candidates, or something.”

  “Well, that’s what dating is, really. You know?”

  He shrugs. “I suppose. I haven’t really thought about it lately.”

  “That’s because I’ve been distracting you. It’s just another good reason why we can’t do this anymore.”

  “It doesn’t seem fair for me to start going out and having fun while you’re sitting at home, Nina.”

  “I don’t mind. I want to sit at home. Trust me, the last thing I want to do these days is go out. But you should, Joe.”

  He shrugs. “Maybe. I mean, I don’t want to be single forever. And it’s going to be harder after the baby comes. I won’t want to leave it with a sitter, and—­”

  “You can leave it with me . . . at least, before I go away.” She smiles brightly at him, as though she can’t imagine anything she’d enjoy more than babysitting while he goes out with other women.

  “Hey . . .” He slides closer to her and puts his arm around her, giving her a squeeze. “It was good while it lasted, right, Nina? You and me.”

  “But we weren’t—­”

  “I know we weren’t a ­couple. But whatever we were . . . it was good. That’s all I’m saying.”

  She feels like crying. “Yeah. It was . . . good.”

  They’re silent for a moment. Nina stares unseeingly at the Knicks game.

  “So we might as well tell everybody else the truth, right?” Joe asks finally.

  Nina thinks about her father, caught up in the restaurant and his worries about Ralphie.

  And then there’s her grandmother.

  And Father Tom.

  “Let’s wait a little longer,” she says wearily. “I’m just not ready to deal with everybody’s disappointment.”

  Handling my own is enough for now.

  Chapter Sixteen

  TWO SHOWERS—­ONE BABY, and one wedding, with Nina as co-­hostess for both. Hardly her idea of an ideal way to spend a cold, rainy February weekend.

  But Barb is her friend, and Rosalee is her sister, and Nina is truly happy for both of them.

  The trouble is . . .

  Everywhere she turned yesterday at Barb’s shower, somebody was congratulating her. And today, at Rosalee’s shower, she’ll have to face more of the same.

  Nobody, aside from Danny and Barb, knows the truth about her and Joe.

  Pop will be so disappointed when he finds out. He keeps talking about how wonderful it’s going to be, having Nina around after all, living right next door and raising a family of her own, with Joe.

  Here she is, six months pregnant, and wearing a blah beige maternity dress and too-­snug panty hose with a waistband that refuses to stay put beneath her belly and won’t stretch up to cover the top of it, uncomfortably bisecting it instead.

  Here she is, six months pregnant, and wishing she were anywhere other than here, at the cluttered kitchen table, hurriedly tying red ribbon-­laced miniature gold wedding rings around three dozen white tulle sacks of candy-­covered almonds.

  “I don’t know why anybody eats these things,” Rosalee’s friend Bebe comments, seated beside Nina at the table. She has completed exactly two sacks in the time it’s taken Nina to do twenty. “I can think of a hundred better shower favors.”

  “Rosalee said she wanted them. They’re a tradition. Besides, she likes them.”

  “She likes everything. I told her she should probably lay off the pasta and potatoes between now and June or she’s not going to fit into her wedding dress.”

  “Bebe”—­Nina clamps her mouth shut, shaking her head. She’s been forcing herself to bite her tongue ever since Bebe showed up right after mass to help with the shower preparations.

  “Please, Nina, just be nice to her today, for me,” Rosalee whispered.

  And Nina’s trying. Really, she is.

  But she almost lost it when Bebe exclaimed, “Nina, look at you! You look like you’re ready to pop! I can’t believe you’re not due until May!”

  Nina wants to say, “Bebe, look at you! With those hawklike features and that swarthy complexion, I can’t believe you weren’t kicked out of beauty school!”

  She isn’t capable of being that mean. At least, she hopes she isn’t. For Rosalee’s sake, she has to tolerate Bebe.

  “You know, Nina,” Bebe says now, munching one of the candied almonds she so despises, “I’m a little concerned about how you’re going to look on Rosalee’s wedding day.”

  All right, that does it.

  “What do you mean by that, Bebe?”

  “I’m just thinking that yo
u should probably let me do your hair and makeup. You know, to draw attention away from your body. You’ll still be bloated and heavy from having the baby.”

  “Bebe—­” Nina begins.

  The phone rings.

  Nina sighs and reaches for it. “Hello?”

  Silence.

  Then a female voice asks, “Uh, is Ralphie there?”

  “No, he’s not. Grace?”

  “No, this is, uh, Camille.”

  Oops. “Hi, Camille. Should I have him call you back?”

  “No, it’s okay, I’ll, uh, try him later. Thanks.”

  Nina hangs up as Rosalee, looking beautiful in a slimming red dress and the wrist corsage Nina gave her, bustles into the kitchen carrying a tray of baked ziti.

  “Aunt Carm’s here, Nina, and she said she’s got another tray of ziti in the car, and one of eggplant parm.”

  “Ziti and eggplant parm? I told her she didn’t have to—­”

  “I know.” Rosalee shrugs. “She said she couldn’t come empty-­handed. Everything has to be heated at three-­fifty for an hour.”

  “Terrific,” Nina says flatly, shaking her head.

  “What’s wrong with that? I love eggplant parm.” Bebe tosses aside a half-­tied favor. She goes over to lift the foil and sniff the contents of the tray Rosalee just set on the stovetop.

  “We were doing only cold finger foods,” Nina says. “I don’t even have plastic forks for everyone.”

  “So? Just use regular forks,” advises Bebe.

  “We don’t have forty of them.”

  “Borrow them from Joey,” Rosalee advises. “He’s home. I saw him going in the front door awhile ago with the Sunday Times. You want me to run over there?”

  Nina’s legs are still aching from being on her feet yesterday for Barb’s shower, and at the restaurant for the night shift. The last thing she wants to do is run anywhere. She tells Rosalee, “Be my guest, Ro, if you don’t—­”

  “Hey, Pop’s back with Grandma Chickalini,” Ralphie interrupts, sticking his head into the kitchen. He looks a little more like his usual self again, after a sullen, silent week spent brooding over his latest trouble at school. Father Luke caught him cutting class again.

  “I’m going to help Grandma in the front door,” Ralphie says, “and then Pop and I have to get back to the restaurant.”

  “Thanks, Ralphie.” Nina stands. “I’ll go to Joey’s for the forks.”

  Rosalee protests, “I’ll go, Nina.”

  “No, you’re the guest of honor. I’ll do it. Just stay here and greet everyone. I’ll be right back.”

  Nina’s already halfway out the back door, hoping she can still manage to wedge herself through the narrow gap between the fence posts. She hasn’t tried it in a few years, and she didn’t have this basketball belly back then.

  If she doesn’t fit, she’ll have to go back inside and through the house to the front door, meeting Grandma and Aunt Carm along the way.

  Neither of them approve of her unwed pregnancy, mythical engagement aside—­they made that clear at Christmas. Grandma, being a vocal, forthright Chickalini, came right out and said it.

  The Valerio side of the family isn’t as blunt, and Aunt Carm did congratulate her and Joe. But disappointment was clearly visible in her dark eyes that are so much like Mommy’s.

  If Mommy were here, she’d understand.

  Filled with longing for her mother, Nina needs to escape. The kitchen, the family, all of it. If only for a few moments.

  She steps out into the icy rain. Terrific. The tiny patch of yard is impossibly muddy. She looks down at her low-­heeled brown suede shoes, knowing they’re going to be ruined.

  But she just can’t go back into the house and face Grandma, and Aunt Carm, and that darned Bebe. Not yet. She needs a break.

  You need Joe.

  She hasn’t seen much of him in the past few weeks, ever since they decided to be strictly hands off. He’s been busy with work, and traveling, and for all she knows, dating. If he is, she doesn’t want to hear about it.

  She’s got other things on her mind, anyway. More important things than Joe’s love life—­or so she keeps trying to convince herself.

  She still has a household to run and a family business to help with, not to mention a father and siblings who need her as much as ever.

  Then there’s the pregnancy. Eating properly and getting enough rest are more time consuming than she expected. She checks her blood pressure every day, religiously, and goes into Dr. Sanjna’s office once a week for blood and urine tests. So far, there are no overt signs of preeclampsia, thank goodness.

  Nina picks her way across the marshy grass, then holds her breath and successfully sidesteps through the fence.

  Moments later, she’s stepping into Joe’s warm kitchen.

  “Nina! What are you doing here?”

  “I was just swimming by, and I thought I’d pop in to say hello.” She shakes the raindrops from her hair.

  “Aren’t you supposed to be hosting a baby shower? Want a towel? Or maybe a blow-­dryer?”

  “Nah, I’ll just get soaked again on the way back. And yes, I’m hosting the shower. I came to borrow forks. Plastic, if you have them. Otherwise, I’ll take the regular kind. And I’ll make Aunt Carm wash all of them,” she adds darkly.

  “Huh?”

  “Never mind.” Nina envies Joe, looking dry and comfy in a pair of gray sweatpants and a blue sweatshirt with the sleeves pushed up. She asks wistfully, “What are you doing today?”

  “Cleaning. I was about to scrub the upstairs toilet.”

  “Sounds good. Want to trade?”

  “Family getting on your nerves, Neens?”

  She nods. “And Bebe’s there, for added pleasure. If she makes one more comment about my belly, Joey . . .”

  “I think your belly is adorable.” He reaches out and places his hand over it. “Is the baby kicking?”

  Nina feels something stirring deep inside of her, but it isn’t the baby.

  “Not now.” She looks up at Joe. He smiles briefly, but there’s something more than affection in his eyes.

  Ask him if he’s been dating anyone. Go on. Do it.

  “So have you . . . uh . . .”

  Forget it. She can’t. She doesn’t want to know.

  “How has work been?” she asks, taking a slight step back.

  He removes his hand from her stomach. “Work’s, uh, been good.” He clears his throat and amends. “I mean . . . actually, it could be better. The market has been all over the place this week and it’s been hectic.”

  “It’ll be nice to get out of there in April, hmm? No more headaches. At least, not that kind.”

  “Yeah. Yeah, it’ll be nice.”

  She can’t help but notice that he’s looking a little worried. “What’s wrong, Joe?”

  “Nothing.”

  “Are you re-­thinking quitting your job?”

  “No! Of course not. I want to be a full-­time parent, Nina. I’m ready for that. It’s just . . . some of my investments aren’t doing so well, and I—­look, it’s no big deal. I just want to make sure I have a certain level of financial security, and the way the market has been fluctuating, I’m feeling a little more vulnerable than I anticipated. But it’ll all even out.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “Don’t worry, Nina. It’s fine. Really.”

  “I hope so.” She hides a yawn behind her hand.

  Joe looks at her sharply. “How have you been feeling? Are you remembering to check your blood pressure?”

  “Yes, sir.” She gives him a mock salute. “Every day, sir.”

  “At ease.” He peers at her. “You look tired, Nina.”

  “I am tired.”

  “Are you still working those long shifts? Because I thou
ght you were going to—­”

  “I am cutting back, Joey!”

  “Good. You need to take it easy.”

  He makes it sound so simple. As if all Nina needs to do is decide to crawl back into bed every morning and let her family fend for themselves.

  “Ralphie and Rosalee and your cousin Cara are supposed to be covering more of your shifts, Nina,” Joe reminds her. “Have they been?”

  “As much as they can.” Ralphie’s had detention for a week, and Rosalee has been on Planet Wedding, and Cara’s had the flu . . .

  “I’m just worried about you, Nina.”

  “I know. But don’t be. I’m taking good care of this baby for you.”

  “Take care of yourself, too.”

  She nods. “Listen, if you’ve got those forks . . .”

  “I’ve got forks.” He opens a cupboard. “Here. Plastic. So I’ll spare Aunt Carm dishpan hands.”

  “Thanks, Joey.” She takes the boxful of plastic utensils.

  “Have fun at the shower.”

  “Have fun cleaning the toilet, you lucky dog.”

  “I CAN’T BELIEVE it’s really going to happen—­I’m really going to be a bride,” Rosalee says dreamily, leaning against the counter beside the sink.

  “I can’t believe Aunt Carm didn’t use disposable foil pans,” Nina mutters, scrubbing blackened, baked-­on cheese from yet another glass baking dish.

  “Did you see the Winwood vase Aunt Lenore sent me?”

  “It’s Wedgwood, Rosalee. Not Winwood.”

  “Are you sure? Then what’s Winwood?”

  “I don’t know . . . a singer? Steve Winwood?”

  “Huh. Well, did you see the vase?”

  “Yup,” Nina lies.

  She barely remembers any of the gifts her sister opened. She was there, right beside Rosalee, handing them to her, discarding the wrappings, gathering ribbons for Cara to staple to a makeshift paper plate-­bonnet, in Chickalini tradition.

  And all the while, she was thinking of Joe. Wistfully. Wishing she could bolt from the shower, right into his arms, into his bed . . . and stay there for the next few months.

  “That was so sweet of Aunt Lenore, you know, Nina? Maybe we should’ve invited her to the shower.”