Page 16 of What Happens in Paradise
Anna, not one for small talk, leans forward and says, “Louisa was offered a position in the neonatal cardiothoracic surgery department at the Cleveland Clinic and she’s going to take it, and she persuaded them that two heart surgeons are better than one, so they’ve offered me a job as well.”
“Turns out, they’re even more excited to get the great Anna Schaffer than they are to get me,” Louisa says, and she covers Anna’s hand with her own.
Baker gazes at the two of them. They seem like strangers to him, like people he’s met at jury duty. Anna is wearing her hair down and it looks lovely, like a dark velvet curtain. Louisa’s hair used to be dark and long like Anna’s—Baker has known her long enough to remember this—but now she has cut it very short and dyed it platinum blond. They’re both glowing; they’re both happy. It’s obvious that they’re in love, that they’re a couple. None of the other ten diners tonight would ever guess that Baker and Anna are the people who are married.
Immediately after making this observation, he processes the words Cleveland Clinic. They’re both taking positions at the Cleveland Clinic, which, if Baker isn’t mistaken, is in Cleveland.
He feels like he has to double-check. Hospitals all have satellite campuses these days.
“Are you talking about the Cleveland Clinic in…Cleveland?” he asks.
Louisa’s head bobs and he notices her grip on Anna’s hand tighten. “Yes, Baker,” she says. It’s probably not her intent to speak to him like he’s a moron but that’s pretty much what she’s doing. “We’re relocating to Cleveland.”
“Not with Floyd,” Baker says. “You aren’t taking my son to Cleveland.”
“That’s what we wanted to talk to you about,” Anna says. “There’s more than one way to look at this.”
“Oh, really,” Baker says. He runs his eyes along the horseshoe to the opposite side, hoping that he will see his four friends eating amphibians. He needs them now because it’s becoming clear that this is an ambush. Anna and Louisa have accepted positions at the Cleveland Clinic. They’re moving to Cleveland, Ohio!
“Yes, really,” Anna says. The server arrives with Anna’s and Louisa’s Descendants (yams) and Baker’s Turtlenecks and Do-Rags, which appears to be a crab dish (not actual turtles’ necks). Louisa and Anna dig in, but Baker can’t even remember how to use his cutlery. “Our first choice would be for you and Floyd to come to Cleveland.”
“What?” Baker says.
“You can do your job from anywhere,” Anna says. “You don’t have to be in Houston.”
“But…we have a house, Floyd has school, we have friends in Houston. A community. A life.”
Anna scrapes yams out of the bowl. “The deepest roots we have in Houston are mine, at the hospital. And I’m willing to pull those up for this opportunity.”
Baker stares at his crab, fervently wishing that Wendy, Becky, Debbie, and Ellen were here so he could inform them that his friendship with them is, according to Anna, shallow—or at least, not as deep as Anna’s career. The woman is so cold, so dispassionate, Baker can’t believe he ever decided to marry her. Good luck to Louisa!
“You and Louisa go to Cleveland,” Baker says. “Floyd and I will stay here. I’ll send him up to you on his vacations.”
“That’s our third choice,” Louisa says. “A distant third, because we’d obviously like to remain a cohesive family unit.” Baker very much resents her chiming in at all. She stole Baker’s wife and now she’s dragging her to Ohio. It’s clear that Louisa is maintaining some kind of utopian vision of the three of them as the parents in this “cohesive family unit,” with Anna and Louisa as the breadwinners and Baker as Floyd’s primary caregiver. “But we want to keep the transition as harmonious as possible, for Floyd’s sake. So we can try that option for the first year if you insist upon it. You and Floyd stay here and we’ll set up a realistic visitation schedule—holidays and summers.”
“Great,” Baker says. “You can be the Disneyland parents.” This is Debbie’s term. Her ex-husband, Jaybee, takes her kids only three weeks per year—to Martha’s Vineyard over the summer, to Aspen at Christmas, and to a different European city each spring. Baker considers the two very serious, accomplished women—people!—on his left. Sorry to say, they are no one’s idea of Disneyland parents.
And yet, this plan works for Baker. Because he is not moving to Cleveland.
“You should also know…” Anna says, and for the first time during this unpleasant and confusing dinner, she seems ill at ease.
“That I’m planning on getting pregnant,” Louisa finishes. She considers the yams and marshmallows on the end of her fork. “Using a sperm donor.”
The words sperm donor should never be uttered during dinner, Baker thinks. He has just lost his appetite.
Their server takes advantage of the pause in their conversation to whisk away their first-course dishes—Baker’s untouched—and set down the Homogenization of Mandingos (venison sausage with beets) for Baker and the Belly of the Beast (boar ribs) for the ladies. Women. People. Baker has some other words to describe them at this point, words that don’t fall in the category of “civilly discussing arrangements.”
“So Floyd will have a half brother or half sister, in a sense, and we obviously want them to have a relationship,” Anna says.
“Cohesive family unit,” Louisa says again. Those are her buzzwords, and it takes all of Baker’s willpower to keep from shouting at her that Anna, Baker, and Floyd are—were—the family unit. Louisa is the interloper. The homewrecker!
Baker reaches for his beer, which he’s been too distracted to drink. He takes a long sip, buying himself time. Anna has left herself wide open here.
“I thought you said you didn’t want any more children,” Baker says. “You were adamant about it, in fact. And now you’re talking about a baby.”
“Louisa will have the baby,” Anna says.
“And yet you want a cohesive family unit,” Baker says. “So you’ll be co-parents.”
