Page 112 of Rules for Second Chances

“In the teachers’ parking lot. I thought you drove.” His eyelids drop a fraction. He knows where I’m going with this.

“I did.” I grab his hand, tugging so he’ll follow me. “But my car doesn’t work for what I’m planning.”

“Oh, no?” He cocks one side of his mouth upward and I see now what he meant about crooked smiles and delightful secrets. Itfeels like the perfect moment to rise on my toes, lean in, and touch my crooked smile to his. Some people might think our smiles are too different to fit together. But they do.

We do.

Chapter Twenty-nine

Playersestablisha relationship in the first beat. Since relationships are always in the process of changing and mutating, after the actors have discovered their relationship, it changes to itspotentialin the second, and comes to aresolutionin the third.

—Truth in Comedy

One year later

The first thing I did after joining Keller was get pregnant.

“Ah, this is the worst, aaaaaaaagh, Tobin!” Liquid pain, liquid pain, liquid pain. I scream the four worst swears I know, back-to-back.

“I’m here, Diz. You’re doing great, keep going.”

“Noooooooooooo, I can’t. No no no no no, I’m too tired.” I’m not too tired to crush his hand, but he won’t point that out if he knows what’s good for him.

“Yes, you can. You’re doing it. I see the head, we’re almost there.”

I melt into a sad, sweaty puddle as the contraction eases, flopping my head toward the labor and delivery nurse. “Are you sureit’s too late for an epidural? I’ll donate a four-night Quiet Raft tour to your holiday raffle. It’s Keller’s fastest-growing expedition. Very popular with people in high-stress jobs. Please.”

She laughs and calls the doctors for delivery.

I plaster Tobin’s hand across my damp, scarlet face. “The miracle of birth is a big, huge scam,” I moan through his fingers.

Such a scam. First of all, it takes days. We embarrassed ourselves by coming to the hospital yesterday, right when my contractions decided to slow down. Then, scared of another false alarm, I stuck it out at home until it was almost too late, despite Tobin going bananas with Google and a stopwatch. My birth plan was a single word, “epidural,” and like every birth plan, it went wrong from the drop.

“I love you so much.” My husband smooths gross hair off my forehead to drop a kiss on my sweaty skin. Rude. How dare he imply I’m beautiful at a time like this.

The obstetrician blows into the room, opening a crackly package of gloves.

“A couple of pushes, Mom, and we’ll have this baby out. Dad, can you give us an assist?”

Sharon told me this would happen—a roomful of people elbows deep in my hoo-ha, my beloved spouse hauling one leg practically up to my armpit.

She also said I wouldn’t be embarrassed, which was a lie.

I turn to the nurse. “Promise you’ll forget me. You don’t know my name. You never saw my vagina. I wasn’t here.”

“What about me? Don’t I get some threats?” The doctor settles herself on a rolling stool.

“You called me ‘Mom.’ I think we’ve established you don’t know my name. Oooohhhhhhhh, here it comes. Aaaaaaah, Tobin, your hand. On my face. HAND ON MY FACE NOW.”

Maybe he puts it on. I think he must. I’m not here to feel it; I’m inside myself, a creature of muscles and knowing, and it’s happening.

Yes,I think. Yes.

“Congratulations, it’s a girl!”

Tobin sobs like we didn’t already know the sex, his face transformed with surprise and joy. He kisses me with a new kiss, something I recognize as love and relief and a deep sense of pulling together, toward something bigger than ourselves.

“Go.” I flap my hand at him. “Cut the cord. Guard the baby.”

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