Swedish Fish
Bailey prepared for her date with Mac Maker like she was going to her high school prom. She got a bikini wax and a pedicure, she bought new underwear and deep-conditioned her hair, and she carefully applied self-tanner, walking around the house naked for an hour so that her clothes wouldn’t give her weird orange lines. She put three condoms in her purse and told Van she was meeting her old sorority sisters for drinks and not to wait up. She felt guilty, but not guilty enough to stay home, and she kissed Dylan goodbye and tripped off into the night.
She met Macat a rooftop bar, and when she saw him, dressed in a starched white T-shirt, her stomach did a happy flip. They ordered martinis and sat side by side at the bar, his knee bumping hers playfully as they talked. She told him about Dylan and showed him a few pictures and he joked about how when they met Dylan could give him a right cross to the chin for what he’d done all those months ago.
They went back to Mac’s hotel and undressed slowly, kissing and laughing, and even though Bailey’s body was different than it had been, she knew she looked good and she could tell Mac thought so too. They had sex, and when it was over Mac found them both bottles of water in the mini fridge and they lay there, his arm around her, recovering and talking quietly.
“Did you always want to be a mom?” Mac asked, running a hand over Bailey’s stomach.
“Not really? I assumed it would happen, but I didn’t think about it that much.”
“But you didn’t want to wait a few years to see if you met the right guy before you just went for it on your own?”
Oh, Bailey had sort of forgotten she had told Mac she’d used a sperm donor. “My hometown is really small. I know everyone there and there isn’t really ‘the right guy,’ ” Bailey hedged.
“That’s amazing. It’s such a turn-on to see a girl like you who can just do it all on her own.”
“Ha, yeah.” Bailey swallowed. All on her own. She didn’t want to keep talking about it, so she kissed Mac and soon they were having sex again, Bailey’s mind empty of everything except for their bodies.
When they finished, she took a shower, noticing the perfume of the hotel soap, wondering if it would cling to her. She carefully redid her makeup and dressed, smoothing the wrinkles from her skirt. Van would probably be long asleep when she got home, but she didn’t want to roll in looking sexed out and shady.
“You coming back to Boston again anytime soon?” Bailey asked. Mac was still naked in bed, looking at his phone.
“Probably not until after the holidays.” He flicked at the screen. “My girlfriend has a work trip to Spain and so I’m going to go over there with her for a few months.”
“Your girlfriend?” Bailey frowned.
“Yeah—I thought I told you?” Mac looked up, suddenly alarmed. “Didn’t we talk about it? She travels for work and so we both see people. It’s all above board. I thought we—”
“No, no, you probably mentioned it.” Bailed forced a smile. “So let me know when you’re back around and we’ll hook up.” She pressed her mouth to his for a brief kiss and then grabbed her bag and left.
A girlfriend.Of course he had a girlfriend. There wasn’t a world in which Bailey could be mad, and she was surprised to realize she wasn’t. Sure, she liked Mac, but he lived across the country. She hadn’t been holding out some secret hope they’d fall in love. It wasn’t ever like that.
When she got back to Budweiser Manor the house was quiet and Bailey silently wiped off her makeup and changed into soft pajamas, but instead of crawling into her own bed with Van she let herself into Dylan’s room, curling up into the big soft chair by his crib and listening to him breathe, trying to hear over the complicated rhythms of her own heart.
On Saturday Bailey made a pitcher of margaritas and invited Fran and RJ over to drink it with her. Van put Dylan in his carrier and led the little boys around the pond with minnow nets while Hissy and Prissy angrily screeched and hissed at everyone.
“You know what would be fun?” asked RJ. “If you put in a rope swing from that tree over there into the pond.”
“Yeah, I think Dylan would really enjoy that.” Bailey rolled her eyes.
“What about a zip line? Like from the roof?”
“RJ, if I see you on my roof, I will absolutely call the police.”
“Do you think there’s rope in the barn?” asked RJ.
“Please don’t break your neck,” said Fran.
“I’m going to look.” RJ tromped off with his drink in hand.
“He is an absolute lunatic.” Bailey shook her head and Fran rolled her eyes. They stretched out on the patio chairs, a bowl of corn chips between them, and Fran slid off her sandals.
“How’s it going with Van?” Fran asked. “You guys happy living together?”
“Eh, mostly,” Bailey hedged. Van had found a tick on his calf and put it in an orange prescription bottle in the bathroom in case it needed testing. That morning Bailey had opened it, thinking it was her allergy medicine, and screamed. One day he randomly asked her if she believed in God, and when Bailey shrugged and said no, he acted disappointed, like he—a guy who hadn’t gone to church a day in his life—thought she needed to. “I don’t know what the fuck we’re doing.”
They drank their margaritas in companionable silence, watching London and Hale fishing a lost net out of the shallows, watching Van pull weeds around the pond. That was the thing about Van, he was always doing something helpful. He was practically perfect. And the fact that Bailey couldn’t appreciate it made her feel like an asshole.
