Jill Smolinski: The Next Thing on My List

‘ What’ s going on?’ I whispered. Javier and Maria kept talking as if we weren’ t there. Deedee stared at the carpet.

Bob wiped his hands down his face and breathed out a sigh. ‘ I need to get Charlotte out of here,’ he said, so quietly that I wasn’ t sure I’ d even heard him correctly. Then he spoke aloud in Spanish. Javier and Maria stopped their conversation, looking up as guiltily as if they’ d been caught French-kissing on the couch. Bob grabbed Charlotte’ s hand-her confusion evident-and said, ‘ We’ ll wait outside.’

I really started to worry when he kissed the side of my head before leaving. Whatever they were discussing, it had to be bad.

When the door banged behind them, I finally asked, ‘ What’ s going on?’

Javier cleared his throat before speaking. ‘ We want to thank you for coming here today,’ he said, his voice stiff and rehearsed. ‘ We’ re grateful that you were willing to adopt Deedee’ s baby, but we want to tell you that that won’ t be necessary.’

Not necessary? I tried without success to catch Deedee’ s eyes.

He continued, ‘ Maria has agreed to be my wife. We’ ll be starting a life together, and a family. We’ ve talked about it, and we want to start that family by raising Deedee’ s baby as our own.’

My speech about the importance of two parents and family dried on my tongue. I felt myself shriveling as well, as if my physical size were trying to match the insignificance I felt inside.

They were keeping the baby.

I wasn’ t needed.

Bob and Charlotte weren’ t needed.

‘ Deedee,’ I managed to say, ‘ is this what you want?’

She nodded, still not lifting her eyes.

‘ She’ ll be able to stay in school,’ Javier said. ‘ We’ ll need help at home, but it will be as a big sister. Not as a mother.’

So much for changing someone’ s life. I hadn’ t made a difference at all. Despite my efforts, Deedee’ s life was progressing exactly as it would have had she never met me.

My brother and his wife, however, were worse off because of my meddling. I’ d marched them to the top of the mountain and shown them what they could have: a new life, a baby in their arms. The family they’ d been dreaming of. Then I’ d unceremoniously marched them back down, empty-handed.

Yet a tiny flame of hope flickered. Deedee would at least need me for the labor room. Her mom could hardly handle the job, being blind and speaking only Spanish. ‘ I’ ll see you Wednesday night for the childbirth class. Right?’

‘ I’ m dropping out of the class,’ Deedee mumbled, the first words she’ d spoken since I’ d arrived. ‘ Since I’ m not giving the baby away, I can’ t go no more.’ Then she corrected herself like the A student I knew her to be: ‘ Anymore.’

‘ But you still need to know what to do during labor.’

She cleared her throat. ‘ Rose at Big Sisters found me another class. It’ s bilingual, so my mom can go with me. It’ s on Saturdays, though, so& ‘

I finished for her, ‘ So you can’ t do anything with me anymore.’

The last drops of hope drained away. It was over.

We fell silent. It wasn’ t one of those comfortable silences that people talk about-it commanded our attention like a precocious child. At last, I stood to leave. What else was there to say? Deedee’ s baby deserved two parents and a family, and that’ s exactly what it was going to get. After offering limp congratulations, I headed for the door.

‘ Don’ t hate me.’ Deedee uttered the words so softly, I barely heard her. I made my way out to the blazing July afternoon, where I could see Bob and Charlotte wilting in their car.

I climbed into the backseat. ‘ I can’ t tell you how sorry I am.’

‘ You made it clear there were no guarantees,’ Bob said. ‘ We took a shot. It didn’ t work out.’

Charlotte, her voice trembling, added, ‘ I’ ve heard about situations like this. How the birth mother changes her mind. It happens all the time.’

Instead of comforting me, her words sent my emotions plummeting. Thanks to me, she’ d witnessed firsthand how very wrong things could go.

They left for San Diego as soon as they dropped me back at my apartment. I headed straight for my couch and sat there, stunned.

Why had I been foolish enough to believe that I could do the list? While I was at it, why didn’ t I try out for the Olympic figure-skating team? Or attempt to climb Mt. Everest in my flip-flops? Disappointing as it was, it was time to face the truth: Completing Marissa’ s list was beyond my grasp. I couldn’ t do the one task that really counted. I still hadn’ t even found Buddy Fitch. So I’ d gone without a bra for a day. Thrown away a scale. Big deal. I’ d thought I could step into another woman’ s dreams and somehow be infused with her lust for life. All that happened was that I’ d fallen short, as always.

The phone rang on and off all Saturday and into Sunday, and I let the machine pick up. I’ d call them back eventually. In the meantime, it was all I could stomach to hear messages from Susan and my mom and Susan again and Susan four more times, sounding grotesquely chipper and eager to talk to me so they could hear the good news.

ON MONDAY, I could tell word of what had happened had made its way through the office quickly, and at first people stopped by to offer their support. Upon seeing how badly I didn’ t want to talk about it, they rallied around by leaving me the hell alone. Now those are friends. Susan even called Sebastian for me and let him know he could call off any last-ditch efforts to find Buddy Fitch.

I threw myself into work, the easiest way to push out the thoughts churning in my head. And there was plenty to do. Even though Bigwood said I wasn’ t getting Lizbeth’ s old job, he certainly had been saving plenty of her aborted projects to dump on me. Still, even he must have sensed something was awry, because even though I’ d become the walking dead, he never once asked what was different about me.

As Troy had put it, time kept marching forward, no matter how much I wanted to curl into a ball and hide. I managed to keep myself more or less distracted all the way to the dreaded Tuesday evening when-with Marissa’ s birthday party due to start in a half hour-Susan and Brie came to find me in my cubicle.

‘ We’ re heading out now. You want to carpool with us?’ Brie asked.

‘ There are a few things I need to do first. I’ m taking the bus.’

Susan looked at me skeptically. ‘ You’ re not going to blow it off, are you? I’ m prepared to drag you to the party if need be. Those people are counting on you. Nobody’ s going to care that you didn’ t finish the list.’

‘ I promise, I’ ll be there. The 440 bus heads straight down Wilshire. It won’ t take me any time at all. In the meantime, you guys go represent.’

‘ Represent,’ Brie muttered. ‘ Will you people never quit stealing our slang?’

Turning to leave, Susan said, ‘ We’ ll save you a seat.’

‘ Near the back, please,’ I replied, my voice pleading.

I’ d go to the party all right, but I was aiming for fashionably late and as low-profile as possible. If I didn’ t have a chance to talk to anyone, maybe they’ d assume I’ d finished the list. The thought of lying also occurred to me-and if it hadn’ t been for a vague unease about being struck down by lightning, that’ s exactly what I would have done.

Besides, it wasn’ t over yet. Earlier in the day, I had remembered one of Martucci’ s ideas. He’ d said that if the adoption fell through, I could try to change people’ s lives by handing out lottery tickets. If one hit, then I’ d certainly changed a life.

It was pitiful, but I was going to do it anyway.