Thirty-three.
The day of Iris’s birthday dawned bright and fair, as it usually did. Not just her birthday, of course, but most days in Southern California, with their dulcet winds and spangled sunshine. There’s a reason every other major city in the U.S. looks down on Los Angeles and makes fun of its supposed lack of culture, and it rhymes with bellousy. The reason Los Angeles doesn’t care what other cities think of it? It’s too busy looking at all its pretty girls in sundresses and happy people living out their dreams and eating well. Never mind, San Francisco. You can keep the fog.
Anyway, Iris’s birthday was another of those lovely days. Rosco the dog had given Iris a cashmere dressing gown, as soft and silky as a newborn’s earlobe, Wyatt had given her a chew toy in the shape of a birthday cake, and Sara had given her a hand-painted mug with MOM on it.
There was a pause as Iris unwrapped it.
“Uh . . . I like the colors you chose,” she said gently. “But I’ll be blunt: I just have the two hands.”
Wyatt went off into gales of laughter. “That’s MY present! I made that! It’s a sword!” He grabbed the mug from his mom and pointed at the third arm. “See? It’s a sword, and you have a helmet on.”
Sara also looked confused. “I thought that was her hair?”
Wyatt snorted. “No! It’s gray! She doesn’t have gray hair! It should have been silver but they didn’t have silver.” He looked at Iris, crestfallen. “They didn’t have silver, sorry.”
She hugged him close. “It is so perfect and awesome and I love you so much. Silver would have been too much, this way is more realistic. I look like a real knight this way, ready to fight and a little bit grubby.”
He smiled gratefully at her. “They probably did get pretty messy.”
“Of course! Fighting dragons is sweaty work.”
He was still concerned. “I put the names on the presents. I guess I put the wrong ones on. Rosco picked out the birthday cake toy.”
“It’s a very good choice, although I suspect he’ll enjoy it more than I will.” She took an experimental nibble on the chew toy, which made a sad noise. “It tastes like cake.” She looked at Rosco with new respect. Rosco wagged his tail and offered to take it off her hands, if it was bothering her.
Wyatt needed reassurance. “Do you like the mug as much as the pink coat thing?”
“More.”
“Really? You seemed to really like the pink thing.”
“I hadn’t seen the mug yet, and I thought it was from Rosco, remember? He doesn’t usually get things like that, his funds are so limited. I wanted to be encouraging.”
“Can I go watch TV now?”
Iris turned to her bedroom window, which looked out onto the treetops that surrounded their house. From her bed she lived in the forest. “Why don’t you have some breakfast first, and then you can call the other kids and see if . . .” Her phone pinged, and she reached for it.
Happy Birthday, you old fart, read a text from Frances. Does Wyatt want to come up here for pancakes? You can have a birthday breakfast in bed.
Yes! she texted back. That would be awesome!
Sending Milo. Have fun.
“Put on some clothes and go downstairs to wait for Milo, baby, you’re going to your auntie’s for pancakes.” Wyatt yelped and sped off, happy to spend time with his older cousins. They often let him on their computers, and were teaching him Minecraft.
Iris looked at Sara. “Is there any coffee?”
Her wife reached for the birthday mug in Iris’s hand. “Yes, AND fresh cinnamon rolls from Acme.”
Iris snuggled back under the covers. “You spoil me.”
“Well, now that Wyatt’s gone,” replied Sara, “I plan to spoil you some more.” She did a dramatic stripper slide around the bedroom door and nearly fell down the stairs. When they were done laughing, Sara went to get breakfast.
Once the rolls were finished, and the icing had been licked off of fingers, Sara rolled over onto her tummy and regarded her wife thoughtfully.
“I want to talk to you about something,” she began.
Iris nodded. “Me, too,” she said. “But you can go first.”
Sara laid her head down on the sheet for a moment, and Iris frowned. “Is something wrong?”
“No,” Sara replied. “But this stuff with Anne is making me think.” She looked at Iris. “And the other night . . . you seemed worried. Of course, it could have been a brilliant double bluff and you’re already cheating on me.”
Iris grinned. “I assure you, I’m not sleeping around. And if you are, please don’t tell me, because then I’d have to smother you with this pillow.” She picked one up and shoved it at Sara, who snatched it away, tucking it under herself. Iris watched her wife’s shoulders move, the angles of her collarbone, the curve of her lower back, and decided that whatever Sara had to say better be quick, because she really wanted to take advantage of this time alone. “Go on then, what’s up?” She mock frowned. “Am I too old for you now?” There were three months separating their ages; it had become a running joke.
Sara didn’t answer, just raised an eyebrow and waited for Iris to be quiet. “Look, I didn’t mention this before because it wasn’t settled, but I’ve been offered a film.”
“A film?”
“Yes. A movie. A good one.”
“When?”
“Soon.”
“Where?”
“China.” Sara laughed, briefly. “All the money’s in China right now, and somehow the money for this film came attached to principal photography over there. It’s fine, it’s good, it’s a real studio, real people, it’s going to be great.”
Iris sat up and pulled another pillow onto her lap, holding it tight. She leaned over and picked up her coffee cup, only to find it empty. “Is it a good part?” She needed more coffee, although maybe she’d had too much already. Her heart was really loud.
Sara sat up, too, and knelt in front of her wife. She watched the way Iris held her cup, saw the tremor in her wrists, knew she was upset. Dammit, she should have waited till after the party. “Baby, this is what I’m saying: I want you and Wyatt to come with me. It’ll be three months. He’s only in first grade, he can easily catch up, you’re not doing anything.”
“I’m not?”
Sara shook her head. “You’re taking care of Wyatt, you’re taking care of me, you’re treading water waiting for something, I don’t know what. Come with me to China, it’ll be fun.” She waggled her eyebrows. “The studio’s paying for a house. I put it in the deal.”
Iris thought about it. Why did she feel so angry? She was married to an actress, a successful one. Traveling for work was par for the course, and had always been fun even if it wasn’t quite as fun as Sara thought it was. A lot of waiting around for her to be finished for the day, a lot of taking care of Wyatt without any of her usual equipment or surroundings. But a big movie would be great for Sara, for all of them. “What does Anne have to do with this?”
Sara looked confused. “What do you mean?”
“You said, ‘this stuff with Anne is making me think’ . . . ?”
Sara smiled, relieved. “Just that it reminds me how important you are to me, you and Wyatt.”
Iris sat very still, trying to get a handle on what she was feeling, and what she wanted to say.
Sara frowned at her, “What’s wrong? I’m just saying it would be nice to be together. You’ve never been to China, Wyatt’s a perfect age to go . . .” She studied her wife’s face, a little lost about why this wasn’t being greeted with the enthusiasm she had expected. Iris had always loved to travel. “We can get a tutor there, if that’s what you’re worried about.”
“How long have you known about this?” Iris felt wrong-footed, as if something had just been sprung on her, but she also knew that was a ridiculous reaction. Why couldn’t she just be happy for Sara? Why couldn’t she feel good about this? She’d wanted to bring up the baby, wanted the discussion this weekend to be about her, about them. It was her birthday; it wasn’t fair.
Sara shrugged. “I don’t know, a week or two, maybe. I talked to the producer a month ago and forgot about it, mostly, you know what it’s like. It came back last week, we had some back-and-forth, I have to give them an answer on Monday.”
“You didn’t say yes yet?”
Sara leaned forward and looked closely at Iris. “No, sweetheart. Why are you freaking out? Talk to me.”
Iris took a deep breath. “I want to have another baby,” she said. “And I want to do it soon.”
An hour or two later they’d reached the silent stage. Sara was open to a baby, after China. Iris was open to China, after a baby was begun. They’d argued all through getting dressed, and now they were sitting out on the deck trying not to start the argument up again when the front door opened
Frances’s voice floated through the house. “Hey! Where are you hiding?”
Iris called out to her, and Sara got up to go greet her.
“I brought your kid back,” said Frances, who had also brought her entire family. “And a cake. I heard it was someone’s birthday.”
Iris raised her eyebrows and turned in her comfy wicker chair to see the cake. “That’s enormous!”
Frances grinned and put it down on the table. “I lost two pounds last week. I need to gain them back as quickly as possible.”
“I like your methods.”
The doorbell rang. Sara looked at Iris and shrugged a question. “Are you expecting someone?”
Iris made a face. Sara went to open the door and reappeared with Bill and Lucas. Lucas was carrying a present.
“Oh,” said Bill, looking around. “Are we interrupting something? We just wanted to drop off a present.”
Iris stood up looking surprised. “How did you even know it’s my birthday? That’s so nice of you! Come on in!” Lucas looked a little lost, but then Wyatt ran up to him and they sped off upstairs, presumably to begin disassembling something.
“Would you like a cup of tea?” asked Sara, trying to pull her shit together. All she wanted to do was pause time so she could work things out with Iris, but, of course, time was as uncooperative as it always was. You had to stay married in the brief pauses between being married, and those pauses so often had to be rescheduled.
Bill smiled, oblivious to any undercurrents in the room. He was in on the secret, of course, and was enjoying his job as first surprise guest. “That would be great.”
The doorbell rang again. Iris frowned at Sara, who was looking a little stressed. A vague suspicion started in her tummy, but it was just Charlie and the kids. Theo immediately disappeared upstairs, but Kate stayed with her dad. She was also carrying a present, and Charlie appeared to have brought a case of champagne.
“Hi,” he said, putting the cardboard box on the table. “I thought you guys might like this. I got it at work for something, can’t remember what . . .” He trailed off. “Hi, Michael! How’s it going?” He went over to chat and the doorbell rang again. When Sara left to answer it Iris turned quickly to Frances and lowered her voice.
“What’s happening?”
“How do you mean?” replied Frances, determined not to be the one who ruined the surprise.
“Frances, Sara and I are having a horrible fight because I want another baby and she wants to go to China and if you don’t tell me what’s going on I’m going to fucking hit the roof.” She took her cousin by the arm. “Spill it, Frank.”
Fair enough. Cousins first. Frances leaned in. “Sara is throwing you the world’s gentlest surprise party, and I don’t care what you two are fighting about, she’s been planning it for weeks and Wyatt is about to shit himself with anticipation, so put your argument on hold and make it work, OK?” She pulled back a bit and fixed her cousin with a firm look. “I realize it’s your party, and you can cry if you want to, but wait until afterward, OK?”
Iris looked at her and nodded.
“This block needs a good day,” added Frances. “And I pick today.”
Iris nodded again, and poured herself a glass of champagne.
This time the guests were Lili and her daughters, Annabel and Clare. Kate was excited to see Annabel, and the two of them ran off to play. Clare came over to Iris and smiled up at her.
“Hi, Iris! I’m Clare, do you remember me?”
Iris smiled. “Yes, Clare, I’ve known you since you were very small. How could I forget you?”
“Well,” said Clare, “you’re old. My mom calls me Annabel all the time, and she GREW ME IN HER STOMACH, so, you know.”
“A good point.” Iris drank some champagne. “Did you bring a present?”
“Yeah,” said the little girl. She paused. “But don’t tell Sara because I think it’s a surprise. It’s not a very good present, I don’t mind telling you, because Mom picked it. I wanted to get Sara a Game Programmer Barbie, but my mom got her a stupid jug or something.” Clare rolled her eyes. “And a piece of paper for a massage, which is just ridiculous.” This was a new word for Clare, and she was enjoying it. She said it again, with emphasis. “Ridiculous!”
“Adults!” agreed Iris, making a face.
“Right?” said Clare. She sighed a tiny little sigh, then added, “Still, I got the Game Programmer Barbie, so, you know, that was good . . . She has a headset for her cell phone and a laptop of her own. But you can’t take it off her hand I don’t think, which is weird. I mean, you’d need to put it down to pee, for sure.” She looked thoughtful for a moment, as if running the logistics of peeing while holding a laptop, but then shrugged and ran off. Iris caught Lili’s eye and shook her head and grinned as Lili mouthed Sorry and rolled her eyes.
Someone had clearly propped the front door open, because now a steady stream of friends with food and presents were arriving, and Sara’s Grand Plan was revealed in all its genius. Iris caught her eye across the kitchen and smiled tightly, raising the second glass of champagne that had miraculously appeared in her hand. Sara looked back at her for a moment, then looked away. She’d wanted so much for this day, and now she just wanted it to be over.
An hour later the party was in full swing. Two different sets of people had brought very small babies, who were being passed around like sleeping loaves of bread. Iris had one on her lap at that moment, but wasn’t sure whose it was. It appeared to be a girl, based on the pink bunny cap, but you could never tell with newborns. A small roar came from the front room as someone showed up with an even more exciting small thing, a three-month-old dachshund puppy, and Iris was starting to feel a little bit tipsy. She could see Frances’s cake on the table and resolved to go get herself a piece.
Sara came over and knelt by her chair. “Are you having fun?” As far as everyone else was concerned the hostess was having a fantastic time, but Iris could see her wife was very much a working actress.
Iris nodded, and was about to try to make peace when suddenly they heard raised voices from the other room. A glass shattered. Anne had arrived.
As Sara and Iris came into the front room, Charlie was hissing at his wife, “You shouldn’t even be here.”
“I was invited,” she replied, from where she knelt on the floor, picking up the pieces of the glass he’d dropped. “Iris is more my friend than she is yours.”
“I think you forfeited all connection to the neighborhood when you slept around, Anne,” said Charlie, who’d clearly had more than a few glasses of wine. Several people were trapped at the far side of the living room, where they had been chatting in a small group before Charlie and Anne had collided at the front door. They looked plaintively at Sara, hoping for an airlift.
Sara stepped between them. “Hi, guys, how about you take this outside?”
Anne looked apologetic, but Charlie was past it. “How about this bitch just leaves, if her legs come together sufficiently for walking?”
“Wow,” said a voice from across the room, although it wasn’t clear who had said it.
Sara firmed up her voice a little. “Charlie, this isn’t the place for this. We’re all here to celebrate Iris’s birthday, and there are lots of little kids here, including yours, so let’s just table this discussion for now.” She touched his arm, but he shook her off.
“You broke my heart, Anne.” He leaned forward and poked his wife in the throat, making her step back. “I’ve loved you ever since we met, and we have kids, and they love you, too, and you just. Don’t. Give. A. Shit. Do you?”
“I do,” Anne whispered, her face pale, as she turned to leave. “I’m so sorry, Sara, I shouldn’t have come.”
“It’s OK, Anne,” said Sara. She turned as she felt Iris’s hand on her elbow. Her wife was right behind her, not a hell of a lot less drunk than Charlie. “What the heck’s going on?” she whispered in Sara’s ear. Sara turned up her palms, watching Charlie’s face carefully.
“It’s not OK. It’s so fucking messed up, it’s beyond comprehension,” he said loudly, grabbing Anne by the arm.
Bill showed up, having just diverted a set of children who were heading in this direction. “Hey, guys, you can be heard in the garden, and the kids are getting worried.”
“Fuck off, Bill. Your wife left you, too, right? Maybe there’s something wrong with the water on the street. It turns wives into whores.” Charlie wavered slightly, but wouldn’t let go of Anne. “Hey, Anne, maybe we could go home for another guilt fuck like the other day, before I found out why you were suddenly so hot for me.” Tears came into his eyes. “I was so happy.”
“Let me go, Charlie,” said Anne, pulling away. “You want me to leave, and I want to go. We’ll talk later when you sober up.”
“No, let’s talk now,” he said, and started dragging her out of the front door. “I want to talk now.”
Bill looked over at Michael, who had appeared with Frances, and all of them followed Charlie and Anne out into the street, with Iris in tow. Sara closed the front door behind them, although several faces appeared at the windows. Now all the neighbors were outside, with all their kids inside. What could possibly go wrong? Sara and Frances both kept looking back at the house, torn between competing responsibilities.
Bill tried to reason with Charlie. “Charlie, let her go for now. You guys can talk another time. Come in and have some coffee, and something to eat.”
Charlie turned on him. “You’re such a nice guy, Billy, why did your wife leave, eh? Why did Julie run off? Maybe we’re too nice, that’s our problem.”
Bill ignored him. “Yeah, we’re awesome, Charlie. Let’s go get something to eat, yeah?”
“No, but really, where did Julie go, Bill? She was here and then she wasn’t. Is she fucking some other guy, Bill, is that it? Or some other woman? Or two other women? Or did she just get sick of the same old cock, was that the problem?”
“Jesus, Charlie, get a fucking grip,” said Michael, who could see Bill was starting to get angry. “You and your wife are having a problem right now, don’t drag us into it.”
“Shut up, Michael. Just because you and your fat wife have it all together, everything perfect. Of course you never have sex anymore . . .”
Anne pulled away from Charlie, suddenly, and started down the street, tears streaming down her face. Frances walked quickly after her. “Anne, let me drive you home.”
“No!” shouted Charlie. “Let her walk! Let her stumble into traffic right under a tractor trailer! I wish you were dead, Anne. I really fucking do.” He turned to Bill. “Don’t you wish your wife was dead, too, Bill? Better dead than in someone else’s bed, right?” He began to laugh. “That rhymes.”
Bill suddenly stepped forward and punched Charlie with enough force to lift him right off his feet. He landed on his back and lay there, stunned and suddenly sober.
“My wife is nearly dead, you asshole,” hissed Bill, his fist still clenched. “My wife has been in another state for three months getting treated for cancer and it’s killing her.” He was furious. “And I’m stuck here, trying to hold it together for Lucas, because he’s only four years old and Julie wanted to go face her shit alone, because she thought he needed me more than she did. He thinks she’s working on a movie somewhere, and twice a day she drags herself into clothes and puts on a fucking wig and props her ass up on a pillow and Skypes him so he knows how much she loves both of us. We’re doing our fucking job, like you should be. Don’t you think I’d rather she was with some other man? I would give my fucking arm for Julie to be having an affair, instead of fighting for her life all alone in fucking Minnesota . . .”
“Daddy?” A small voice came from the doorway, and they all turned to see Lucas heading out of the house. “You said the F word!” He looked shocked, but had clearly only heard the last few words.
Bill looked at his son. His face relaxed, and those close enough could see the effort it took. Lucas had no idea. Bill held out his hand. “Hey, chief. What’s up?”
“Nothing. I just wanted to see you.”
“Do you want to go home?”
“Can we call Mommy? I want to tell her you said the F word.” He noticed Charlie on the ground and hesitated. Then he went over, as little children will. “Did you fall over?” He stuck out his hand to help, but Charlie just looked at him for a moment and then lay back down on the grass.
Lucas frowned and turned to his dad, who picked him up and held him close. “Charlie’s fine, Lucas, don’t worry about it. Shall we go call Mom so you can tell on me?” They started to walk away, skirting Charlie where he was on the grass, shamed and silent.
“That was a great party, Daddy,” Lucas’s little voice piped back. “Did you see me eating cake?”
“Yeah, buddy. Was it good?”
“Yeah. Mommy’s going to be so mad with you for swearing.” The little boy giggled, resting his head on his father’s shoulder, his hand gathering up the fabric of his daddy’s T-shirt and holding it tight.
They crossed the road and walked away. Charlie sat up, wiping his mouth and weeping. Anne pulled open the car door and Frances went around to the driver’s side. Iris, Michael, and Sara just stood there. Iris wasn’t feeling so good.
A short man walked up, pushing a large trolley.
“Are either of you Sara?”
Sara nodded.
“I’ve got your bouncy castle,” he said. He made an apologetic face. “I know you wanted Spiderman, but some studio exec threw a fit and got the last one. What you have here is a deluxe.” He stressed the word deluxe. “Elsa’s Frozen Castle.” He paused, aware that this might not fly if this was a boys-only party. “With a giant Olaf thrown in gratis. No charge for the six-foot snowman.”
Iris suddenly leaned forward and threw up on the grass.
There was a short pause, then the bouncy castle guy said, “Fine. No snowman, then.”