Cat's Meow: A Novel by Melissa de La Cruz

Author:Melissa de La Cruz [Cruz, Melissa de la]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Literary, Humorous, General, Fiction
Publisher: Simon and Schuster
Published: 2001-07-30T23:00:00+00:00

14

motherhood: the latest urban affectation

India and I arrived at the airport an hour before Bannerjee’s plane was scheduled to arrive, so we passed the time in the airport lounge, drinking cocktails as usual. I was beginning to feel a little anxious about this new stage in my life. True, the idea had come from wanting to impress Stephan with an altruistic gesture as well as inject some meaning in my life—but now I wasn’t so sure. I mean, when one goes into Barneys and purchases a knife-pleated dress but then goes home and decides one looks like an accordion, one can always return the offending item.

Not so a Chinese baby.

“Darling, tell me the truth, do you think I’m ready for motherhood?” I asked India nervously.

“No, of course not. Don’t be silly,” India scoffed.

“Well, then, maybe I can just march that tyke back to China where she belongs,” I braved.

She snorted.

“I blame it all on the Chinese Orphans Society. Why throw lavish parties for the benefit of starving Chinese orphans if not to advertise their adoption?” I said, extremely agitated.

“Hmm.. .”

“Why on earth did I want to become a mother! Cody Gifford alone should have served as ample warning!” India ignored me as I continued my harangue. “Children! What was I thinking? Isn’t there a money-back guarantee? After all, she’s made in China. There’s got to be a way!” I railed. “Everyone’s infertile these days—maybe we can leave it here at the terminal? No one will know!”

I succeeded in getting her attention, but India only gave me a horrified look. “I know,” I said, mortified. “I was only kidding.” I tried another tactic. “Oh, but—do you think three months is too young to ship her off to Miss Porter’s?” I asked innocently.

“I think it’s wise if we wait until she can sit up on her own, don’t you?” India stated diplomatically. I grunted.

“Darling, you’re only suffering from prepartum depression.”

“What’s that? And can I get a prescription for it?” I always brightened up at the thought of catching the latest affliction. All I was missing was my own personal stalker. Everyone had one these days: Dave Letterman, Madonna, Gwyneth Paltrow. What does a girl have to do to merit some harassment around here? Feel very left out as the only reasonably attractive girl in New York without a restraining order on a homicidal maniac—yet another sign that I was hopelessly in need of a comeback. Wonder if Heidi could arrange one? I must remember to ask her during our next image-rehabilitation session, I mused.

“The prenatal dumps,” India explained. “You know, like the way I felt before I got Miu Miu?” Miu Miu was India’s pet Maltese. “You’ve spent the last month waiting for this baby, it’s almost here, and you’re anticipating that it will be anticlimactic. You’re frightened it will turn out to be incredibly disappointing.”

I gripped India’s arm. “Darling, I just don’t know if I’m ready.”

* * *

“Well—ready or not, here it comes,” India quipped. I looked up to see an exhausted-looking Bannerjee bringing the baby toward us.

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