BETH HAD BEEN there. At her desk. In the same room with him, at the same time. Thinking about somebody else. About somebody who worked in Advertising, no less. Lincoln hated the guys who worked in Advertising. Whenever WebFence caught a dirty joke, it inevitably originated from a guy in Advertising. Salespeople. Lincoln hated salespeople. Except Justin. And, honestly, if he didn’t know Justin, he’d probably hate him, too.
One time, he’d had to rebuild a hard drive up in Advertising; it’d taken a few hours, and the next day, when Lincoln went to put on his sweatshirt, it still smelled like Drakkar Noir. No wonder my mom thinks I’m gay.
Jealous, he thought, as he walked by Beth’s desk that night—coffee cups, Halloween candy, Discman— I’m jealous. And not even of the boyfriend. He felt so far from being in the same league as Chris, that he couldn’t be jealous of him. But some guy who works in Advertising, some guy who tries to upsell, who makes cold calls …
Lincoln picked up a miniature Mr. Goodbar and unwrapped it. Beth had been sitting right here while he was working on the copy desk. He might have been able to see her if he’d looked.
From: Jennifer Scribner-Snyder
To: Beth Fremont
Sent: Tues, 10/26/1999 9:45 AM
Subject: I think I’m pregnant.
I’m serious this time.
<<Beth to Jennifer>> Have you been exposed to radiation? Eating a lot of tuna? Shooting heroin?
<<Jennifer to Beth>> No, honestly, this isn’t a paranoid thing. I think I’m pregnant.
<<Beth to Jennifer>> Because your period is three minutes late. Because you’ve had to pee twice in the last hour. Because you feel a presence in your womb.
<<Jennifer to Beth>> Because I had unprotected sex while I was ovulating.
<<Beth to Jennifer>> Is this a joke? Am I on Candid Camera? Who are you really, and what have you done with my friend?
The Jennifer Scribner-Snyder I know and love would never publicly admit to having had any sex at all, and certainly wouldn’t sully her fingertips by typing it out like that.
She also would never start a sentence with “because.” Where’s my prudish little friend? What have you done with her?
<<Jennifer to Beth>> I don’t have time to mince words.
<<Beth to Jennifer>> Why not? How pregnant are you?
<<Jennifer to Beth>> Four days.
<<Beth to Jennifer>> That’s a little specific. (Almost grossly specific.) How could you possibly know already? And how do you know you were ovulating? Are you one of those women who can feel their eggs moving around?
<<Jennifer to Beth>> I know I was ovulating because I bought a fertility monitor.
<<Beth to Jennifer>> Just assume that my response to your next 12 statements is, “Say what?”
<<Jennifer to Beth>> I thought that if I knew when I was ovulating, I could avoid intimate contact at those times (which, honestly, hasn’t been much of an issue lately).
So, four days ago, I knew I was ovulating. On that day, I hardly talked to Mitch. He left for school while I was still asleep. When I came home from work, he was upstairs, practicing the tuba. I could have gone up to tell him I was home, but I didn’t. I could have yelled up to see if he wanted a grilled cheese sandwich, but I didn’t.
When he came up to bed, I was already there, watching a Frasier rerun. I watched him get ready for bed, and he didn’t say a word to me. It wasn’t like he was mad; it was more like I was a piece of debris in the middle of the road that he was driving around.
I thought to myself, “My marriage is the most important thing in my life. I would rather have a happy marriage than anything—a good job, a nice house, opposable thumbs, the right to vote, anything. If not wanting a baby is destroying my marriage, I’ll have a baby. I’ll have 10 babies. I’ll do whatever I have to do.”
<<Beth to Jennifer>> What did Mitch think?
<<Jennifer to Beth>> I don’t know. I didn’t tell him about the ovulating part. He was surprised by the unprotected part. I don’t know.
<<Beth to Jennifer>> Okay, so you might be pregnant. But you might not.
<<Jennifer to Beth>> You mean, I might be infertile.
<<Beth to Jennifer>> No, I mean, you might have at least another month to think about whether you really want to get pregnant. Most couples have to try more than once. You might not have sealed your fate four days ago.
<<Jennifer to Beth>> I hope I did. I just want to get this over with.
<<Beth to Jennifer>> Write that down, so you’ll remember to put it in the baby book.
How long before you know for sure?