Clara said, “Then what’s another one?”
“Different strokes for different folks,” said Adam, relaxed enough to really mean this.
“These aren’t strokes, Adam,” said Jess, who never relaxed. “This is lunacy. And last time, Clara, you almost died.”
Clara sighed, and they all sat silently for a moment, sipping their drinks, comfortable enough not to be riled by the tension in the air. This is what happens when you’ve known each other forever.
“Is this what you want, Nick?” Jess was insistent. Clara wasn’t sure what Nick was going to say, because they’d never really talked about it, because when would they have found the time in the tornado of the last few years? But it had been implied. All those years of wanting…it would be strange if it suddenly abated. The longing was still there, it was like a kind of habit.
Nick said, “I like babies.” Nick was reliable. He, too, was happy in the whirlwind, and once in a while things settled down enough for that to be affirmed—a moment in whichtheir eyes locked, the solid grasp of his hand in hers, the way he came home every night and took up the baton, keeping their family going. He would draw Clara a bath, and she’d retreat for the only part of the day she was ever alone, emerging restored, ready to go again. He loved it as much as she did, all of this. When Clara settled into bed at night for a brief rest between feeding one child or another, he’d curl up around her and whisper, half-asleep, “You, my darlin’, are my home.”
Jess said, “I’m just speaking in terms of practicality.”
“I don’t know,” said Clara. “We don’t think in those terms. Whatever happens happens. The universe has a plan.”
“But you’re allowed to make your own plan.”
“All my own plans have only ever been overwritten,” Clara said. “I’m not trying to drive you berserk, Jess. You asked, and this is how it is. Maybe we’ll have another baby, I don’t know. I don’t even know if we can. But like Nick said, we like babies.”
Jess said, “But everybody likes babies. That doesn’t mean we have to welcome them indefinitely.”
“I can think of worse things,” Clara said.
“I like having babies,” Nick said. “I like making babies.”
“Now you’re being gross,” said Clara. “They don’t want to hear that.”
“Not really,” said Adam.
“So you’re just going to keep having babies and breastfeeding everybody forever,” said Jess.
“Yes,” said Clara. “That’s exactly my plan. Forever, and everybody. Each and every one.” Pauly was falling asleep on the nipple. “Can you get her?” she asked Nick. “If you carry her gently, she might stay asleep.”
As Nick headed upstairs, Jess asked Clara, “Don’t you ever get tired?” Her questioning was less confrontational this time; she was genuinely curious.
And Clara said, shifting in her chair and tucking her legs under her, “I’m tired all the time. But you get on with what you have to do.”
“You don’t have to do any of this,” said Jess.
“But Iwantto,” said Clara.
“It becomes so narrow,” said Jess. “Life with a baby. That’s how I remember it. The universe shrank to the size of a nut. Like being locked in the world’s tiniest closet. With no windows.”
Clara said, “I don’t know. I remember having the whole wide world before I had babies, entire continents, swaths of land and so much limitlessness. And I was just lost and miserable.”
“But you weren’t,” said Jess. “You did everything. I never could have done what you did. You were fearless, and you were awesome.”
“I like to think she still is,” said Nick, coming back into the room.
Jess said, “I’m not saying she’s not.”
Clara said, “But I was always sad. And now I’m not anymore, which is the best definition of success I can think of.”
They were all quiet for a moment, until Jess said, “You’re notreallygoing to have another baby, right?”
“Well, notnow,” said Clara. “But I don’t know. It’s not really even up to me.”
“But it is,” said Jess, rubbing her forehead. Her glass was empty. “I mean, who else would it be up to?”
