Page 34 of Upshot

The waitress sits us near the front where we can watch as people meander by on the sidewalk. Even in the city, it seems like everything moves at a slower pace here. I could happily sit here all day and watch Brontë as she studies the street out the window.

Our server brings a cup of coffee for me and french toast for Brontë.

“I don’t know why I’m so hungry all the time,” she says as she digs in. “I seem to have two gears. Hungry and horny.”

My coffee goes down the wrong pipe. I can feel it scalding a path to my lungs as I try to cough it back up. It’s bad enough that I get concerned looks from the tables near us.

“I’m sorry,” she adds, slapping my back. “I should get my filter looked at.”

“Not on my account,” I manage to rasp out. She goes back to eating, and I eventually manage to swallow the coffee lingering in my sinus cavities. “Where do you want to start shopping?”

“I mapped out the bookstores. There’s also a baby store I want to pop in. Is that okay?”

“Sure.” Every time I think I get my emotional shit over having a baby under control, something else hits. I’ve never been baby shopping.

Any of my friends who have had one, I have just had Bernadette send something. What do babies even need? I assume clothes, diapers, and stuff like that. What about a car seat? How do I know what the best one is?

“Whoa, you’re turning pasty again. Like you did at the ultrasound. Are you okay?” Brontë asks. Am I okay? Not really. Peter told me to start sharing my fears with her, but that’s not what I was taught.

Sharing myself openly doesn’t come easily. It took a lot of contraband beer and late nights in our dorm before Pete learned what life inside my head is like. In my family growing up, speaking the truth got you hurt.

“I’m good. Just hoping you’re up for all the walking, I guess.”

“Psst, you’re with a shopping pro. Let’s get started.”

I throw down a couple of bucks, and we head out the door. Brontë pulls out yet another list from her purse. The woman is well organized. Turns out, the baby store is just a block down.

The door makes a quaint twinkling noise when we walk inside. Brontë is almost giddy about the vast amount of baby paraphernalia crammed into every inch of the store. I might throw up again.

“Hi! Welcome to The Baby Boutique. Are you looking for something specific?” an overly enthusiastic woman greets us. I can’t get past the explosion of pastels to focus on what she’s saying.

“Just starting actually. I wanted to look around. I’ve already been browsing your website, and there are several items I’m interested in,” Brontë answers. She’s a woman on a mission. As for me? I might be in over my head on this one.

* * *

BRONTË

Rand still looks pale as he follows us around the store. His eyes are also a little glassy.

The saleswoman is incredibly helpful in answering all of my questions. She suggests that I start a registry so I can simply go to it whenever I want something and have it sent. I’ve also heard rumors from the neighbors about a baby shower.

Rand remains mostly silent. I notice some of the color returns to his cheeks as she explains the differences in car seats.

“What crib do you think looks best?” I ask.

The saleswoman has drifted off to give us a chance to look around unaccompanied. I still have the registry scanner in my hand though.

“Umm, I don’t know. What do you like?” We drift through the furniture section until I see one that would be perfect.

It has clean lines, but Craftsman-style touches that would make it perfect in Rand’s new house. Not that it will be in that house. That’s still too far away to even discuss yet.

It has a matching dresser with a top for a changing table. A small bookcase, rocker, and footstool round out the set. Strangely, I can’t imagine the set at my parents’ house. Anywhere really but his. Everything is so confusing.

“Oh, never mind,” I mumble, checking the price tag. There’s no way I’ll be able to afford that any time soon. Rand follows me into the clothing section where he smiles while I ooh and ahh over the tiny outfits. Finally, I think I’ve done enough damage for this trip. “Thank you,” I say, putting the scanner on the counter.

“Find anything you can’t live without?” the saleswoman asks.

I open my mouth to explain I’ll have to wait until a little closer to time when I’m cut off.

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