Page 37 of Sunset on the Solstice

When Jared went to work the following week, Shelby found herself alone for up to twelve hours per day. On the one hand, it was delicious to have free time again. As long as dinner was ready on time, and as long as the house was clean, Shelby could wander the grounds, or take long and luxurious naps on their new furniture, or try and fail to read. Unfortunately, after only a few days of this, Shelby grew itchy and panicked. She found herself online, researching what was going on at Columbia, and soon stumbled into her old roommate Molly’s blog, wherein she wrote about her new boyfriend, her classes, and sometimes Shelby.

Molly wrote: My old roommate dropped out of school, married some psycho, and moved out West. It’s such a good reminder always to uphold your own education, I think. Women and men are still SO not equal, and I want to make sure I secure my degree before I think about getting married.

She’s pregnant now. There isn’t a day that goes by when I don’t worry about her.

At this, Shelby threw her phone across the room, her chest heaving. She wasn’t someone who needed Molly’s pity. But she knew this was also how her mother and sister felt: that she was a caged woman, without a degree and without a future.

Within a month, the baby would be born, she knew.

It gave her very little time to peek her head back into academia. Maybe it wasn’t too late?

Although she was frightened, she decided to call Professor Thames outright. They hadn’t spoken at all since that fateful day when they’d met during Jared’s hospital stay. A cursory glance at old emails told Shelby that Professor Thames had emailed her twelve times before giving up. That didn’t feel good. But Shelby told herself that she had a pretty good excuse. She’d thought her fiancé was dead.

A little voice in the back of her mind reminded her, You weren’t engaged back then. You were lying to yourself. The reality was, you and Jared had broken up, and you freaked out and went back to him. Now, look at your life. Now, look at what you’ve done.

Shelby shook the thoughts out and called her old professor, praying that Professor Thames would answer. Instead, Shelby got the professor’s new secretary, who said, “What was the name?”

“Shelby Vance,” Shelby said. She hadn’t used her maiden name in ages, and it tasted so good on her tongue.

“Shelby Vance,” the secretary said under her breath. “Let me check our systems to see if she’s flagged anything about you.”

Shelby closed her eyes tightly, praying that the secretary would still make time for her, given what Shelby had already done.

“Ah, I see. You’re an old student?” the secretary asked.

“Yes, but looking for a way to finish my degree,” Shelby said. “I had to drop out for, um, family reasons. This was the autumn semester of last year. Not so long ago?”

“I’ll have to talk to Professor Thames,” the secretary said brightly. “I’m sure she’ll call you back within the week, all right?”

“Sounds good,” Shelby said. “But if you could tell her that it’s important…”

“Yes, of course,” the secretary said. “Talk soon!”

Shelby sat on the sofa with her phone on her lap, aching with worry. She wasn’t sure why it hadn’t occurred to her till now, but it landed heavy on her shoulders: she’d dropped out of school. She’d simply stopped going to one of the most prestigious universities in the country and the world. When she’d first gotten into Columbia, she’d jumped up and down with her mother Rebecca, celebrating her future. Now, she felt that she’d closed the door on herself and she couldn’t get back inside.

Professor Thames didn’t call her back that week, nor the one after that. When Shelby tried again, the secretary insisted that Professor Thames would get back to her soon, but that the semester was packed. “She’s in over her head. She’s going on sabbatical next semester, so there’s a lot to do before then,” the secretary explained.

Sabbatical! It sounded like a gorgeous word. It was to be a semester in which Professor Thames could write and research and dream, rather than deal with twentysomethings like Shelby. Again, Shelby thanked the secretary. When she hung up, she burst into tears that didn’t cease for a full hour.

The following morning, Shelby went into labor.

She’d read online that she shouldn’t go to the hospital till the contractions were three to five minutes apart. Not wanting to bother Jared, who had several meetings that morning and afternoon, Shelby tried to keep herself busy. She walked to the stream. She practiced her breathing. Mostly, she panicked, wondering what kind of world she was bringing her son into. Why wasn’t her mother here? Why wasn’t her sister? She imagined her little brother Chad, holding her baby for the first time, saying hello, and then she cried even harder. What was she doing here, beneath this mighty white mountain? Where was her Nantucket shore?

When it was time, Shelby called her husband to let him know where she was headed, then took a cab to the hospital. It wasn’t till she arrived and was situated in a bed in the labor and delivery wing that she realized she’d forgotten her cell at home. How was that possible? Anxiety shuddered through her, and she had so little to do while she waited. Jared had told her that he’d come as soon as he could, but there was no telling when that would be. Recognizing she was bored, one of the nurses took pity on her and lent her a paperback left by another pregnant woman. It was Gone Girl, and it gave Shelby terrible ideas about her marriage and her future. She stopped reading when the pain got too bad.

When Jared arrived, Shelby was nearly ready to push. She wanted to yell at him for being so late, but she was also secretly glad he was, as it had meant she hadn’t had to deal with him and his reckless emotions. He kissed her and said, “All right. Let’s have a baby.” He said it as though it was a thing they were doing together, rather than something she’d been doing all day alone.

It was the worst thing Shelby had ever done. Pain rocketed through her, and she doubted herself almost continually, only to have the nurses yell at her to keep going. Blind with anxiety and pain, she begged Jared to call her mother. “I need her,” she sobbed. “Please. Call her!” But Jared didn’t have Rebecca’s phone number, and when Shelby told him to call the Sutton Book Club instead, as the number was listed online, he reminded her that it was the middle of the night. Nobody would be there.

“I need my sister! I need my mother!” She sobbed, as the nurses begged her to push.

For a little while, at least, Jared looked so panicked and youthful that Shelby thought he was going to apologize for everything. She wanted to beg him to be kinder to her. She wanted to demand: why did you drag me to the middle of nowhere? Why do you keep me in a cage?

But then, all at once, the baby was born, and he was perfect: pink and small and quiet. He lay in Shelby’s arms and looked at her. Shelby couldn’t believe it. When she looked up at her husband, who was exhausted and sweaty and beaming with pride, she couldn’t fathom that they’d somehow made this baby together. It was only when Jared insisted that they give him the name of his grandfather that Shelby’s reality crashed back in on itself.

“I told my dad we’d name him Richard,” Jared explained. “He’s done everything for us, so I think we owe him.”

Shelby blinked at him. She considered asking, "What if I want to name him after my own grandfather? What if I want to name him after my father? What about me?”