Mari Is Hungry

Chapter 2

It’s almost as if Mindy timed her pregnancy to have this baby shower in April. 

   Mari felt her anxiety surge as she noted all the springtime decor with bunnies and ducklings in the shop windows as she trotted the last few blocks from the train toward the party, cellophane basket in tow. When she finally reached the door to the seventh-floor condo, the sound of quartet classical music punctuated by shrieking toddlers confirmed she was indeed at the correct address. 

   “Welcome in,” said the heavily highlighted host as she passed off Mari’s gift to another woman. “I’m Bonnie; this is my home.”

   “Mari. Nice to meet you.” 

   Why did people feel the need to add “in” behind “welcome”? It made Mari feel trapped every time she heard the expression, as if crossing a threshold after someone said it thrust her into a cultish indoctrination no one had warned her about. 

   Welcome. 

   Efficient, open-ended. Welcome to arrive; welcome to leave. 

   “Welcome in” was a sticky web. 

   Mari quickly eyed the room off the entry where the party was: cathedral ceilings with original crown molding, south facing windows, and white-washed walls were somehow both blinding and exposing. Nearly two dozen women dressed in pastels lounged comfortably about, half of whom were noticeably pregnant themselves, as children of pre-kindergarten ages raged around the room. Mari noted that, though she was right on time, these women seemed to have been here for awhile — their discarded earth ware hors d’œuvre plates smeared with the remnants of their grazing. 

   “Mari! Oh, hello darling! I’m just ecstatic you could make it,” came a voice from behind her. 

   Mari turned and gave Mindy an awkward hug around the shoulders, avoiding touching the woman’s belly. 

   “I let the office know I’d be out the rest of the day,” she said. “Someone — not sure who — took your gift when I came in.” She looked around, feeling awkward. Should she have also brought some Prosecco for the host? It seemed like most of the guests were drinking; champagne flutes stamped with lipstick were in the hand of nearly every woman. One woman who was breastfeeding what looked to be a three-year-old boy was pouring herself another glass over the boy’s head. 

   Mari felt dizzy. 

   “I only care about you, but thank you, darling,” Mindy said in her most gracious tone, then dropped her voice to a whisper. “And honestly, thank god you’re here — I need some gossip of outside life.” She giggled and led Mari toward a formal dining room buffet. 

   It hit her just how ravenous she was. She’d had a large breakfast after the gym this morning, but the pitch meeting had been moved to the lunch hour. After her little chat with Greg, she hadn’t even thought of eating. She calculated the time — nearly nine hours since she’d last eaten anything.   

   For her, that was at six hours too long. 

   She raised her brows at the tiers of food before her: It was like an elevated Super Bowl spread. Meatballs in a jammy sauce, delicate sliders with various fillings, crudités, dips, and delicate two-bite desserts. 

   Mindy misread the look on Mari’s face and quickly said, “Oh, don’t worry — everything is vegan and gluten-free. I was just craving some of the old comfort foods I used to eat, and Bonnie and Merideth found a brilliant caterer who could pull off a healthy version of my favorites. Have you heard of Crunch Catering? They’re in Brooklyn, but very good. Highly recommend!” Mari took a plate and started to fill it, more than a little disappointed in the meat-free options before her. She’d order a burger as soon as she got home, she decided.

   “Are you vegan now?” she asked, spearing faux meatballs with a toothpick. 

   “Well, about 90% of the time. Yes. It’s just so much healthier for keeping my cholesterol in check. It also helps keep the extra pounds off. Did you know, my OB-GYN said I look four months pregnant instead of seven? I must be doing something right!” Mindy laughed at her malnourished body, and Mari held back an eyeroll.

   “It was Bonnie who turned me onto this diet; she swears it’s what helped fix her fertility issues and conceive naturally. Mari,” Mindy suddenly grew serious as she lowered her voice. “I would start thinking about children if I were you. I know you and Chris didn’t work out, but these days, you don’t need a man. In fact,” she gulped down the remaining sparkles in her flute, “I’d recommend going at it solo. Having a partner sometimes just feels like having an extra baby.”

   Steam rolled off the surface of the bath water as Mari slowly lowered herself into the tub. She adjusted the foam pillow under her neck and sighed with contentment. It was Saturday afternoon and her calendar was blissfully, blessedly empty through the weekend. 

   Her phone buzzed twice and she looked down. 

   A text from Chris. 

   Hey. Miss you. Our breakfast spot   

   tomorrow at 11? 

   She hadn’t realized she sucked in a massive breath when his name appeared on the screen, but Mari lowered herself until her mouth was underwater and let out an exasperated flurry of bubbles. Why did everything feel like it was suddenly changing? That her work, the only thing she had managed to hold onto since moving here, no longer held the same meaning or brought her happiness. She had no partner, no family within 200 miles, she didn’t even have a fucking cat. What was next? Another ten years of this? Twenty?

   If I’m lucky, she thought. 

   Greg’s assessment of her performance, the way he turned the tables on her when she pointed out — very tactfully, she felt — that he was snubbing her work, was infuriating to her. 

   Am I the problem? 

   She wiped her hands on a washcloth and picked up her phone.