2
They ate dinner at theirfavorite neighborhood sub shop. It was called Sub Shop. The place was right in the middle of a nondescript shopping center near the apartment, one of many, sandwiched between a defunct laundromat and an unnaturally well-lit Mattress Firm.
They sat at a wobbly plastic patio table stuffed into a corner of the tiny shop. Wren tore into a gooey meatball sub the size of her entire torso, while Arthur nibbled on a cheesesteak. Arthur found he didn’t have much of an appetite. Too busy replaying the visit over and over in his mind. Thinking about his great gift, the box of crap, and whether his parents realized or cared that they lived in a one-bedroom apartment with no storage.
“This is the best sub I’ve ever had,” Wren said between bites.
“That’s what you said last time. And the time before that.”
They had eaten here, or had the food delivered, frequently during the pregnancy. It had hit the sweet spot of satisfying Wren’s cravings in the early days, and somehow the sandwiches—despite being soggy with grease andmayonnaise—were among the few things that didn’t make her nauseous.
“And I mean it every time.” She chewed some more, savoring every bite.
“So, you called this meeting,” Arthur said. “What’s on your mind?”
Wren held up a finger, swallowed a colossal lump, and then spoke. “We’re not ready.”
“Not ready for…”
“When your mom and I were talking, I realized we have absolutely no clue what we’re getting into.”
“What do you mean? We have a car seat, we have a booger sucker, we have diapers. I’ve got my time off all set up with the school. We have enough money saved up. Well, enough for now. Speaking of…” He trailed off.
“What is it?” A piece of shredded lettuce shot out of Wren’s mouth and landed on the table in front of him.
“My dad tried to cut me a check. Slip it into my palm like some sort of mobster. Can you believe that?”
“That’s amazing. How much?” She lit up.
“No, Wren, it was not amazing.” It was patronizing, insulting, and infantilizing. Like Arthur couldn’t take care of his own life, his own family. Like he hadn’t been scrimping and saving for years to prepare himself for this phase of life. He’d worn holes in almost every pair of socks he owned just to make sure the baby would have enough bibs—which, come to think of it, he had forgotten to buy—and the absolute gall of his father to think he didn’t have things under control.
He didn’t, to be clear, but still—thegall!
The offer had also come with a lecture on cutting back on “luxuries,” like Netflix, his cell phone, and the odd dinner out. Like any of that was going to make a difference.
“It doesn’t matter, I wouldn’t take it.”
“You’re kidding. Why not?” She shook her head disapprovingly. “If I know anything, it’s that when people feel like being generous, you should let them.”
“It’s not generous, it’s…Can you just be on my side here?” She always did this, especially with his parents. Saw them with rose-colored glasses. Why couldn’t she see that this was a passive-aggressive power move? Her insistence on seeing and believing the best in people could really be obnoxious.
“OK, I’m on your side,” she said, hands up in surrender, then miming zipping her lips shut, locking them together, and throwing away the key.
“Thank you for lying. I just wanted to tell you, in the interest of not keeping secrets. But to your earlier point, we are absolutely ready. We took those classes, practiced our diapering and swaddling. Met pediatricians. What else is there?”
Wren spoke but refused to open her lips. All that came out were stifled mumbles, as if her mouth was duct-taped shut.
“Still locked, right,” Arthur said, reaching over with his own imaginary key and opening her lips back up, zipping them free.
“Ah, thank God. It was getting hard to breathe.” She took a few dramatic, labored breaths. Arthur rolled his eyes. “I was trying to say, we haven’t talked about names. Not once.”
“My mom was grilling you about baby names? We decided not to find out the sex, so…”
“Yeah, but shouldn’t we have a short list or something?”
“OK, so let’s make a short list.”
Wren paused. “But I don’t wanna.”
