<<Beth to Jennifer>> One of them is a personal shower.
<<Jennifer to Beth>> Oh, I hate those. If it’s personal, it shouldn’t be a shower. Who wants to open lingerie in front of their friends and relatives?
<<Beth to Jennifer>> Lingerie is mild. My cousin got sex toys at her personal shower. And her bridesmaids made her try on her skimpy new underwear so she could give us a fashion show. My aunt kept saying, “Sexy, sexy!”
<<Jennifer to Beth>> Why did you tell me that? Now I’m going to be making the “ew” face for the rest of the day.
<<Beth to Jennifer>> I’m going for a more refined vibe at the shower I’m hosting for her. We’re having a tea party. I’m making tea sandwiches.
<<Jennifer to Beth>> I love tea sandwiches.
<<Beth to Jennifer>> Who doesn’t? You know …I could throw you a tea party baby shower.
<<Jennifer to Beth>> With no games?
<<Beth to Jennifer>> Oh, there’ll be games. That’s nonnegotiable. But no sexy underwear, I promise.
<<Jennifer to Beth>> I’ll consider it.
Enough about me and my tapeworm. How are you?
<<Beth to Jennifer>> You can’t tell me you’re pregnant and then change the subject.
<<Jennifer to Beth>> This is all anyone is going to talk to me about for the next nine months. It’s all anyone is going to talk to me about for the rest of my life. Please, can we change the subject? How are you? How is Chris?
<<Beth to Jennifer>> Chris is …Chris. I guess. He’s in one of his distant phases. He’s gone a lot, and when he is home, he turns up the stereo too loud to talk. Or he sits in the bedroom with his guitar.
I ask him if he wants to go out, and he says he doesn’t feel like it. But when I get home, he’s gone.
<<Jennifer to Beth>> Are you worried?
<<Beth to Jennifer>> Not really.
<<Jennifer to Beth>> You don’t think he’s seeing someone else?
<<Beth to Jennifer>> No. Maybe I should think that.
I think he just gets like this sometimes. Like he needs to pull away. I think of it like winter. During winter, it isn’t that the sun is gone (or cheating on you with some other planet). You can still see it in the sky. It’s just farther away.
<<Jennifer to Beth>> That would drive me crazy. I’d lose my temper—or get pregnant—just to shake things up.
<<Beth to Jennifer>> Losing my temper wouldn’t help. I can’t imagine what would happen if I got pregnant. Then he probably would leave.
<<Jennifer to Beth>> Don’t say that. He wouldn’t leave.
<<Beth to Jennifer>> Actually, I think he would. Or he wouldn’t expect me to keep it.
<<Jennifer to Beth>> That’s terrible.
<<Beth to Jennifer>> Do you really think so? You know what it’s like to not want children, to want your relationship to stay a certain way. I don’t think Chris would feel responsible for me getting pregnant. He would see it as my deal, my choice. And it would be, wouldn’t it?
<<Jennifer to Beth>> Let’s change the subject again.
<<Beth to Jennifer>> Gladly. Congratulations!!
LINCOLN HAD SEEN Beth’s boyfriend half a dozen times now. Justin had really taken to Sacajawea after that first show. Now he called Lincoln whenever the band was playing. Dena, Justin’s girlfriend, would come, too. They usually ended up at the Village Inn afterward. They’d all order pie and listen to Justin dissect the night’s show.
“How are these guys not fucking rock stars?” Justin always asked. “Why aren’t they on MTV instead of all that Backstreet bullshit?”
Lincoln shrugged.
“Look,” Dena said, nodding toward the smoking section, “there’s the guitarist again.”
Chris was sitting in a booth, eating a breakfast skillet and reading.
“How does a guy like that not have a girlfriend?” Dena asked.
“Maybe he does,” Lincoln said.
“No way,” Dena said. “Guys with girlfriends don’t spend Friday nights eating alone at the Village Inn.”
“He should be out nailing groupies,” Justin said.
“He’s always by himself,” Dena said.
“If I looked like that,” Justin said through a mouthful of meringue, “I’d be banging a different girl every night.”
“You were doing that anyway,” Dena said, rolling her eyes, “looking like you do.”
“You’re right,” Justin said. “If I looked like that, I’d be banging two different girls every night.”