A Nearly Perfect Copy - By Allison Amend Page 0,109

had to know she was pregnant, though. With this third pregnancy her abdominal muscles just gave up, stretching in anticipation of her growing belly. She was pinning her pants shut by the sixth week, and now, in her twelfth week, she was wearing full maternity gear.

She purposefully scheduled her appointment for the afternoon, when she knew that the sun streaming in Greer’s office window wouldn’t blind her. But she needn’t have worried. The day was overcast, gray like canvas had been laid outside the window. She sat down and attempted to make small talk. Was Greer going to the family estate in August?

“Yes, we’re all going up there. The kids are each bringing some monstrous friend. The mosquitoes have been unbearable these last couple of years.”

“They were always bad,” she said. “Down by the boathouse?”

“I suppose they were. And it’s really gotten hot. We’ve had to put air-conditioning in all the cottages. The main house is insufferable.”

Elm remembered many nights on the screened-in sleeping porch, praying for breezes and hoping her bed partners (there were always piles of cousins) wouldn’t move any closer, sweat pooling in any concavity. But she gave a sympathetic grunt.

“And, well, there’s this situation there, but I’ll tell you later.” He was doing it again, piquing her curiosity by bringing up something and then delaying telling her. It would probably be something completely uninteresting, but now she wanted to know. She knew he wouldn’t give her the satisfaction of telling her, so she didn’t give him the satisfaction of showing her curiosity. A silence descended.

“So,” Greer said. “To what do I owe the honor of this meeting?”

“You may already know,” Elm said, “but I’m expecting again.”

“That’s great!” Greer said. “I’m sure you must be very happy after …”

Elm’s face flushed. It absolutely infuriated her when people tried to suggest that someone could ever replace Ronan. But of course, she had replaced him.

“Can I ask you when you’re due, as a relative, not as a boss. I’m not sure I’m allowed to ask that legally, except as a cousin.”

“June,” she said.

“That’s when we’re ramping up for fall.”

Elm nodded. What was she supposed to do about it? It wasn’t like some sort of vacation she could postpone to a more advantageous time. “We’re always busy.”

“I suppose June’s as good a time as any.” Greer sighed. He jiggled his mouse and looked at something on his screen. This was WASP for “time to leave.” “You’ll work up until the date, yes?”

Elm stood up. “Unless doctors tell me otherwise.” She smiled. “Thanks for your consideration, Greer.” She sounded like the close of a business letter, but if he detected something less than genuine in her tone, he didn’t respond.

The e-mails of congratulations started pouring in. Having a baby was slightly more interesting in New York, where almost everyone, it seemed, had some sort of journey toward parenthood, either to China or Ethiopia or via infertility treatments. What Elm had been through was everyone’s worst nightmare, and now they wanted to believe it could be erased. Also, while everyone had been unable to help Elm, to share in her grief, they might be able to make up that lapse now, by celebrating the happy occasion. Elm had to insist on only one baby shower.

And then came the censorious looks. Elm had forgotten that when you’re pregnant you’re public property. People touch your stomach without asking, even when any visible roundness might be an accumulation of fat rather than the swell of fertility. Because you are a vessel that is carrying the Future of the World, your every move is scrutinized: Should you really be eating that? Sugar in pregnancy can lead to gestational diabetes, which can lead to obesity in the infant’s later life. That Diet Coke has caffeine! Phenylalanine can be neurotoxic to developing fetuses. Elm began to eat lunch in her office. She hid her diet Sprite in a Vitaminwater bottle.

It was really happening. It wasn’t just in her mind; people were starting to cede seats to her on the subway, smile at her on the street. Moira loved to lie on her, cooing baby talk to her belly button, drawing circles around it with her fingers.

Colin’s reaction Elm found more puzzling. He swung from the extreme solicitousness he showed during her pregnancy with Ronan (he scolded her for overexertion for merely bending to tie her shoes) to his laissez-faire “I’ve done this before” nonchalance with Moira (she’d nearly had her daughter at home, waiting for Colin to finish