Page 32 of Just Like the Brontë Sisters

“A toast,” Jo Beth said, once she’d sat down. “To friendship, love, and new life.”

They clinked their glasses together and Mitch and Magda drank up. Jo Beth modestly sipped her own wine, aware that Mitch would be concerned about her alcohol intake, being pregnant and all.

“Hey, I was online the other day. Did you know they have skis for one-year-olds?” Mitch laughed. “We need to decide how soon we want to turn this kid into a skier.”

“Perhaps we should let her learn to walk first.” Jo Beth said.

“Don’t be such a philistine,” Mitch replied.

Magda smiled at his joke but spoke to Jo Beth. “You’re assuming it’s a girl.”

“It had better be a girl,” she responded.

The afternoon passed pleasurably enough. They finished their meals and ordered dessert. Over tiramisu (the restaurant’s signature dish), Mitch and Magda polished off the last of the wine. They were both slightly tipsy when Jo Beth finally told them.

“By the way, that slightly different woodsy taste in the wine today was from the laxatives.”

Mitch looked at Jo Beth with a blank face. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, I bought a jar of powdered Ex-Lax and put it in the wine.”

“But—how?” asked Magda.

“Never mind how! Are you serious, Jo?” Beads of panic sweat were already lining Mitch’s forehead.

“I’m totally serious.”

He placed his hand over his stomach, like he could already feel the laxative’s effects. “But, why?”

“Why? Because you two are obviously still attracted to each other. Whether you’re cheating on me is kind of irrelevant. The attraction has to stop.”

Jo Beth leaned over and reached into the pocket of Mitch’s jacket, which he’d draped over the back of his chair. She took out the car keys, held them up and jangled them. “I’m driving back now. I suggest you stay over with Magda, where the two of you will spend the night puking and shitting, over and over and over. While you do, I hope you both think of me, and good luck having just one bathroom between the two of you.”

“You’re joking,” Magda said. “You wouldn’t really poison us with laxatives.”

“I think “poison” is sort of hyperbolic,” Jo Beth laughed. “But, of course I would put laxatives in your wine. Because from now on, neither of you will be able to look at the other without remembering how it felt to have your colon explode. It will always stay with you: the smell, the sounds, the stomach cramps…”

“Jo, if you’re for real, I’ll never forgive you.” Mitch said.

“You’ll never forgive me for a prank?” Jo Beth made a face of pretend shock. “Gosh Mitch, have a sense of humor. It’s not like I cheated on you.” She stood and grabbed her bag. “Besides, I’m having your baby, and the pain I’ll experience during labor will be a million times worse than what you’re about to go through. I’m sure you’ll find a way to forgive the mother of your child.” She spoke to Magda. “I don’t care if you forgive me.”

Their mouths hung open and their skin tinged green. Jo figured that the combination of alcohol and Ex-Lax must be starting to work its magic. Never mind; from here on out, Jo Beth would have to imagine their pain. It was time to make her exit, before they recovered from their shock and began to yell.

“See ya,” Jo Beth said.

It was easy to walk away.