Page 66 of The Boyfriend List
She waggles her eyebrows. "So, he's been checking off your boyfriend list?"
I bite my lip, having forgotten that I didn't tell her London knew about my list all along. "Something like that."
"More donkey kicks, less chitchatting in the back!" The instructor calls out, clearly targeting us with her command. "Next, we'll move on to clamshells…"
Everyone in the class groans as we do the next few exercises.
"I thought this was supposed to be easy," Sasha mutters under her breath as we take a water break halfway through the class.
I wipe sweat off my forehead, glad I had the foresight to bring a towel. "Me too."
It alwayslookseasy and aesthetically pleasing when I watch people do it on Instagram and Pinterest. I should have known better than to trust aesthetic photos of women in matching legging and sports bra sets, who aren’t even breaking a sweat.
When the class is finally over, Sasha says goodbye, claiming she has a work appointment to run to. Raina and I head back to the locker room to shower. As we shower in side-by-side stalls, we continue our conversation. Maybe it’sweird to talk in the shower, but Raina and I used to do that all the time as roommates.
"Are you nervous about becoming a mom?" I ask Raina.
She's silent, making me wonder if she heard me over the spray of the water. Then she speaks. "Mostly, I just wish I had my own mom here to see me having a baby. She would've been such an awesome grandmother, and I know she always wanted Leo to have kids so she could be anabuela."
My heart twinges at the thought as I rinse conditioner out of my hair. "I'm sorry, Raina. I didn't mean to bring up a sad topic."
She chuckles. "You didn't. Having a baby is joyous and fun and exciting and all those things people say it is, it's just also… a lot."
I adjust the water temperature so it isn’t so cold. "Do you ever feel like people expect you to be more excited than you are? There's all this pressure to celebrate promotions or weddings or having a baby, and you don't even have time to process how fast your life is changing."
Raina lets out a deep sigh. "That's exactly how I feel right now. Yiayia and Skye and Leo are all buying baby clothes for me. I don’t even know if we're having a boy or a girl yet, and everyone's talking about baby names and I'm just wondering… What if I'm a horrible mom?"
We both shut off the water at the same time. "Aw, Raina, just the fact that you're asking that question proves that you couldn't be a horrible mom."
"But I don't want to justnotbe a horrible mom," she says, opening the stall door to grab her towel. "I want to make sure I don't mess up my child for life in all the little ways that you don't even realize you're doing. You know?"
I towel off and apply body lotion, thinking about the times my parents made me feel like I was second-best compared to Paulo and his accomplishments. I know they love me and they're proud of me now, but part of me always questions whether it will be enough. Whether the things I do areenough to make them happy, whether if I quit my job and started doing something less lucrative, they would be disappointed in me.
"I know what you mean." I take my second towel and twist my hair up to get it out of my face. "I can think of a few ways our parents messed us up. But there's no such thing as a perfect parent, Raina. There's no 'perfect mom' manual or guidebook that will ensure you never mess up. The important thing isn't not messing up; the important thing is that you keep trying."
She sighs. "Ugh. Why do you have to say that? What about my perfectionist tendencies?"
I giggle, understanding her struggle all too well. "Sorry, Rain. Should I validate your perfectionist tendencies by saying thereisa perfect parenting technique and you're failing because you haven't mastered it?"
"Yes. That makes me feel so much better." She pads out of the shower stall, her flip-flops smacking against the wet floor. "Do you have any plans for the rest of the day?"
I do a mental skim of my calendar. Icouldwork, but even with my boss's thinly veiled 'encouragement' to work harder for the promotion, I don't feel like it. For once, I want to do what I want to do.
"Nope."
She grins. "Want to get lunch?"
Chapter Twenty-Four: London
Ihave an incredibly embarrassing secret hobby.
Okay, maybe it's not as embarrassing as I make it out to be in my head, but what twenty-something guy living in L.A. practiceswoodworking?
My woodworking studio is still on my parents' property, unfortunately, in the adjacent building off the Young Residence that was built as a second garage. Nobody uses it to house cars, though. It's filled with old water skis, spare tires, and rusted bicycles that Brooklynswearshe'll clean out of there one day. A few old trophies gleam faintly beneath a coating of dust: Savannah's dance recital awards, my piano recital awards, and Troy's badminton medals. Nestled in the corner is my 'wood shop'.
I took up woodworking in high school because all the other electives were full, and I needed one that wasn’t as heavy academically as my other classes. The wood shop teacher, Mr. Bircher, was always nice enough to let me eat lunch in his classroom when I didn't have anyone to sit with.
I sit in front of the small table, whittling a small figurine out of acacia wood, peeling back the layers to reveal the shape I want to make—a tropical fish that reminds me of Gloria's tank of rosy barbs. I miss her, but she textedme earlier today saying she had plans with Raina for the day, which is why I came here on a Saturday.
