“So you were pregnant at the wedding.” My eyes widened.
“Just a little bit.” She looked sheepish. “We’re telling everyone else a different date. Because you know… his mom and the whole Catholic thing.”
“Well I’ll BEE damned.” Dale sat back and looked over at me.
That made me snort Diet Coke.
“Which brings us back to God or Fate,” Matt reminded us.
“Or just plain coincidence,” I countered.
“Let’s not BEElabor the point.” Aimee sighed.
We all looked at her and cracked up.
“What? I can’t do bee puns?” She looked at us like we were crazy, laughing like hyenas. Then she smiled. “If you can’t BEEt them, join them, right?”
This time it was Dale who choked on my Diet Coke and I had to beat on his back with my fists to get him to stop. Finally, the waitress arrived with our food and I think we all must have been hungry because most of the conversation stopped except for the occasional, “Pass me the salt,” or “Oh my God, you have to try this!”
Dessert was tiramisu. The boys didn’t order any so Aimee and I split one, both of us moaning and sighing over its pure deliciousness.
“She doesn’t even make those sounds in bed,” Matt grumbled, tossing his napkin on the table.
“Then you’re doing something wrong.” Dale laughed when I stuck a chocolate covered tongue out at him.
“I still can’t believe you’re going to have a baby.” I met Aimee’s eyes over our dessert.
“Well, you did it before I did,” she reminded me. “I still remember putting that stuffed bear on your belly and watching her kick it off. “
“Aimee!” Matt exclaimed, eyes wide. “Jeez! She doesn’t want to be reminded—”
“It’s okay, Matt.” I felt tears stinging my eyes but they weren’t sad ones, exactly. I felt Dale’s hand on my back, comforting. “It’s okay to talk about her. For a long time I didn’t, but Aimee was there, she knows. If we talk about her, if she’s remembered, then she still lives on, in some small way.”
Besides, if you believed in fate or God, then you had to believe the bad stuff had a purpose too. And while my pregnancy had come about in a truly horrific way, I never once blamed the baby I was carrying.
“She was unbelievable,” Aimee said, meeting my eyes. “Did the whole thing without drugs.”
“They didn’t do a c-section?” Matt blinked in surprise.
“No, they induced me.” I felt Dale’s hand rubbing my lower back. He was closer now. He’d heard this story. I leaned my head against his shoulder.
“They said recovering from major surgery would be harder than labor,” Aimee told him. “But I don’t know. It sure looked like it hurt like hell. And she did it all without drugs!”
“It did hurt.” Although I couldn’t tell them, any of them, even Dale, that it hurt far less than knowing the baby I was giving birth to wouldn’t ever take a breath. “But you can do it. I’ll be there with you, just like you were for me.”
Aimee picked up the last bit of tiramisu with her fork and put it to my lips. I took it, chewing and swallowing.
“Besides, the midwife said it was so hard for me because the baby wasn’t helping,” I reminded her.
“The baby helps?” Matt gulped his beer.
“Sure,” I replied. “The baby pushes with its feet and moves its head, arches its neck.”
“But Dharma didn’t.” Aimee picked up her napkin, dabbing it at the corners of her eyes.
“I didn’t know you named her,” Dale said softly.
I still had a box of her things packed away I’d still never shown him—the hospital bracelet they put on her, some booties, a hat. The nurses even took a lock of her hair for me—fine blond fuzz. They took Polaroid pictures of me and Aimee holding her. My mother refused. She waited out in the lobby and asked, “All done?” when I limped out. That’s all she ever said about it.