Page 112 of Maybe in Another Life

She starts crying again, and she squeezes.

And at that moment, I realize that if I have taken away a fraction of her pain, then I have more purpose than I have ever known.

I’m not moving to London. I’m staying right here.

I found my home. And it’s not New York or Seattle or London or even Los Angeles.

It’s Gabby.

That night, Gabby and I decide to take Charlemagne for a long walk. At first, we were just going to walk around the block, but Gabby suggests getting out of the neighborhood. So we get into the car and drive to the Los Angeles County Museum of Art.

Gabby says it’s beautiful at night. There is a light installation that shines brightly in the dark. She wants to show me.

We stop at Coffee Bean and get tea lattes. Mine is herbal because Gabby read an article that said pregnant women shouldn’t have any caffeine. There are about ten others that say caffeine is fine in moderation but Gabby is very persuasive.

We park the car a few blocks from the museum, put Charlemagne on the sidewalk, and start walking. The air is cool; the sun set early tonight, and it’s quiet on the streets of L.A., even for a Sunday night.

Gabby doesn’t want to talk about Mark, and I don’t really want to talk about the baby. Lately, it seems as if all we do is talk about Mark and the baby. So we decide instead to talk about high school.

“Freshman year, you had a crush on Will Underwood,” Gabby says. She sips her drink right after she says it, and I look at her to see her eyes giving a mischievous glance. It’s true, I did have a crush on Will Underwood. But she also knows that just mentioning it is enough to make me mortified. During our freshman year, Will Underwood was a senior who was completely cheesy and dated freshman girls. When you are a freshman girl, you don’t understand what’s so unlikable about guys who are interested in freshman girls. Instead, I very much hoped he’d notice me. I wanted to be one of those girls. He’s now a shock jock on an FM station here. He dates strippers.

“Well, I’ve never had good taste,” I say, laughing at myself, and then I point at my belly. “As evidenced here by my baby with no daddy.”

Gabby laughs. “Ethan was a good one,” she says. “You were smart enough to choose Ethan.”

“Twice,” I remind her as we keep walking. Charlemagne pulls on the leash, leading us toward a tree. We stop.

“Well, I’m no better at choosing, clearly,” Gabby says, and it occurs to me that when you’re going through a divorce or when you’re having a baby, there is no not talking about it. It shades everything you do. You have to talk about it, even when you aren’t talking about it. And maybe that’s OK. Maybe what’s important is that you have someone to listen.

Charlemagne pees beside the tree and then starts scratching away at the grass, trying to cover it up. This is a pet peeve of Gabby’s, because Gabby appreciates a nicely landscaped curb.

“Charlemagne, no,” Gabby says. Charlemagne stops and looks up at her, hoping to please. “Good girl,” Gabby says, and then she looks at me. “She’s so smart. Did you think dogs were this smart?”

I laugh at her. “She’s not that smart,” I tell her. “Earlier today, she ran into the wall. You just love her, so you think she’s smart. Rose-colored glasses and what have you.”

Gabby cocks her head to the side and looks at Charlemagne. “No,” she says. “She’s really smart. I just know it. I can tell. I mean, yes, I do love her. I love her to pieces. I honestly don’t know what I was doing without a dog this whole time. Mark ruined all the good stuff.”

Obviously, Mark didn’t actually ruin every good thing in the world, but I don’t contradict her. Anger is a part of healing. “Yeah,” I say. “Well, actually, you did have good taste in men once. Remember how in love you were with Jesse Flint all through high school? And then senior year? You guys went out on the one date?”

“Oh, my God!” Gabby says. “Jesse Flint! I could never forget Jesse Flint! He was an actual dream man. I still think he’s the most handsome guy I’ve ever seen in my life.”

I laugh at her. “Oh, come on! He was tiny. I don’t even know if he was taller than you.”

She nods. “Oh, yes, he was. He was one inch taller than me and perfect. And then stupid Jessica Campos got back together with him the day after our date, and they ended up getting married after college. The major tragedy of my young life.”

“You should call him,” I say.

“Call Jesse Flint? And say what? ‘Hey, Jesse, my marriage is over, and I remember one nice date with you when we were seventeen. How’s Jessica?’ ”

“They got divorced, like, two years ago.”

“What?” Gabby says. She stops in place. “No more Jesse and Jessica? Why did I not know about this?”

“I assumed you did. It was on Facebook.”

“He’s divorced?”

“Yeah, so maybe you two can talk about what divorce is like or something.”

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