44. Happy Hour
“I think we should pick an androgynous name like Chris or Andy so it won’t matter if it’s a girl or a boy.” Rita Jane said to her neighbors assembled on the piazza for the regular Friday afternoon happy hour.
“How boring,” Aimee said. “My parents picked a boring name, too, but at least they had the good sense to spell it differently. Kids want to be special. They don’t want to have the same name as everyone else.”
“Speak for yourself,” Esme said. “I like my name now, but as a child I hated it. I sometimes lied and said my name was Elizabeth because I so desperately wanted a normal name.”
Rita Jane was sipping a very cold Corona, which was the most delicious thing she had tasted in a long time. She had been drinking only rarely, to be in solidarity with Claudia, but she couldn’t resist when Aimee offered it to her when she arrived home from work.
Rita Jane flipped through the baby name book that she had bought at the used bookstore.
“It’s so hard to decide when you don’t know the gender. We decided against learning the gender of the baby, though Audrey said we should find out. That way if we were disappointed we could work out our disappointment before the baby arrived.”
“If you don’t know the sex of the baby,” Frances said, “Everyone will buy you green or yellow things. If you do know, you’ll get blue or pink.”
“I like green and yellow better than pink,” Rita Jane said. “But what do you think about the question of finding out?”
“It makes sense to me,” Frances said. “I was terribly disappointed when I learned that my first child was a boy. My husband wanted one, of course, but I really wanted a daughter. Of course, I fell in love with him once he arrived and didn’t care, but it probably helped that I had some time to get used to the idea.”
“Claudia’s dead-set against finding out,” Rita Jane said.
“Claudia is still in denial that she’s pregnant,” Aimee said.
Rita Jane laughed.
By 6 o’clock the piazza teemed with people catching up with their neighbors and relaxing at the end of the workweek. The humid air felt thick as pea soup. People were stripped down to shorts and T-shirts, some fanning themselves. A few of the toddlers ran around with nothing but diapers on. Some were running through the lawn sprinkler to cool down. The thought of her own child doing that some day made Rita Jane smile.
It was nearly 7 when Claudia returned from work, walking slowly and looking, as usual, exhausted. Reflexively, Rita Jane tried to hide the beer behind her back, but Claudia saw her.
“I want one of those,” Claudia announced, pointing to her bottle. “I was going to have a glass of wine but that beer looks so good I’ll have that instead.”
While Rita Jane was thinking of what to say, Dan said, “We’ve got some O’Doul’s. It’s not bad, actually.” He reached into a cooler and opened one and handed it to Claudia. Rita Jane braced herself for Claudia’s response. Claudia had been a headstrong woman before the pregnancy, but as the due date grew closer, she became more and more irritable.
“Thanks Dad,” she said sarcastically. “You want to know what I had for lunch, too? Why does everyone think they can tell pregnant women what to do?
Dan looked shocked.
Audrey intervened. “Claudia went to the doctor today and she said that an occasional drink was fine now that she was late in her pregnancy. In fact, she thought it might help Claudia to relax.”
Rita Jane didn’t want Claudia to drink regardless of whether it was okay, but maybe a beer would put Claudia in a better mood.
“It’s true,” Dave said. This late in the pregnancy an occasional drink is not going to hurt the baby.
“In Texas,” Audrey drawled, “we believe in pregnant women drinking now and then. It helps them relax. Eases the stress.”
“That explains a few things about certain people from Texas,” Dan said.
Everyone laughed, breaking the tension.
“There’s certainly worse things than growing up to be President,” Audrey said. “I’d love my grandchild to be President.”
“I can see it now,” Dan said, “My own flesh and blood, the first President of the United States raised by a trio of gay parents, whose mother was a lesbian terrorist.”
Claudia took a long sip from the Corona and announced, “I’ve got news.”
Without waiting for her to continue, Dan interrupted, “They dismissed the case.”
Claudia nodded. “Oh my God!” Rita Jane yelled gathering Claudia up, as well as she could, in a huge hug. Claudia was immediately surrounded by her neighbors — people hugging her, patting her on the shoulder and slapping her high-fives. Rita Jane gave her a big juicy kiss.
“How do you feel?” Dave asked, always the therapist.
“Relieved, but a little sad. I feel sad for Emad. And for myself. For all we had to go through, especially him.”
“It’s not over yet,” Dan said. “Those bastards are going to regret the day they brought that case. To revenge,” Dan said, lifting his glass for a toast.
“No, to justice,” Claudia modified.
“To justice,” everyone shouted in unison.