The Rosie Effect

34

We slept in the same bed again, for what I expected would be the last time. Sex did not seem appropriate, especially considering the existence of ‘someone else’, and we were both extremely tired. I had vast amounts of confusing information to process, and I knew that there was no point beginning until my head was clear again. There was no longer any urgency. I would conduct a post-project review in due course.

‘I can’t face Dave and Sonia,’ Rosie said in the morning. ‘I’ll stay here. Judy’s picking me up at ten.’

This was the second goodbye to Rosie, after my original departure for Dave’s. The research I had read earlier indicated that complicated separations generated more pain. My experience supported it.

Rosie was packing up her study when I returned from my scheduled run. She looked extremely beautiful, as always, but her new shape contributed an additional dimension.

‘Is it still moving around?’ I asked.

‘I’d be worried if it wasn’t.’

‘I mean right now.’

‘Not right now. A few minutes ago.’

I was conflicted. I knew, from talking to Dave, that someone who was exactly average would have wanted strongly to feel the baby under development ‘kicking’. I didn’t. There were three possible reasons:

1. If it turned out to be a powerful emotional experience, I would be increasing the pain I would feel at Rosie leaving. If Dave or another average person was in the same circumstance, he might well have reached the same conclusion.

2. I was still in some form of denial that an actual baby existed, relating back to the lack of planning. Feeling it move would act in opposition to that comfortable denial.

3. My natural aversion to body contact with strangers. Rosie had slept with me the previous night, but there had been a definite change in our relationship.

I knew that I might influence Rosie’s opinion of me if I acted differently, but the behaviour would be deceptive. Instead, I behaved with integrity—as myself.

‘Can I have a copy of your spreadsheet?’ I asked. My best chance was that she had made an error.

Gene and I went to see Sonia in the hospital. He had not met Sonia prior to the previous evening, but his motivation made sense.

‘We’re there for Dave. Men hand out cigars because they need something to do. There’s stuff-all to do for the first six months. And don’t talk to me about bonding. If Dave’s expecting the baby to throw its arms around him and say “dada,” he’ll be waiting a while.’

Gene’s advice was in line with what I had read. Males were advised to assist with domestic chores, work that could easily be subcontracted, particularly in a country which had a low minimum wage. Dave’s focus on working at his profession, earning a higher hourly income, was rational.

‘Where’s Rosie?’ asked Sonia as soon as we arrived. The baby was sleeping in a crib in a dormitory, while Sonia had a private room. Dave was due to arrive once he finished a job, but he had already viewed the baby. It had no apparent faults and its appearance would not change substantially on a day-to-day basis.

‘Unfortunately, no change in status. In fact, separation has been confirmed. Rosie is on her way home to Australia.’

‘No! Why? What you did for me—you guys were such a great team.’

Sonia’s logic was faulty. According to it, professionals working on a common project would transition into permanent relationships. Obviously this happened sometimes, but it was insufficient in our case.

The discussion was interrupted by the arrival of a nurse carrying a baby, which I assumed was Sonia and Dave’s. I was well aware from the Antenatal Uproar that social convention took precedence over maximising immunity through the sharing of breast milk.

Sonia commenced the nutrition and immunity-improving process.

‘So what happened?’ she said, once the baby was attached. ‘With you and Rosie? If it’s Lydia, I’m going to report her. Seriously.’

Sonia was an accountant. She would understand the logic of decision-making. I took Rosie’s spreadsheet from my pocket and gave it to her. She held it with one hand while steadying the baby with the other. I was impressed with her proficiency after such a short period.

‘My God, you guys are both nuts,’ she said. ‘Which is why you should be together.’ She looked at the spreadsheet for a few more seconds. ‘What’s this about already purchased the air ticket?’

‘Rosie’s ticket was non-refundable. She felt obliged not to waste the investment. It was obviously a factor in her decision to go home.’

‘You’d break up over the price of an air ticket? Anyway, she’s wrong. It’s the sunk-cost fallacy. You don’t take nonrecoupable costs into account in making investment decisions. What’s gone is gone.’

Gene took the spreadsheet from her. ‘Strike the air ticket. Nice work, Sonia. Sometimes you need to speak to these guys in their own language.’

He looked at the spreadsheet. ‘Rosie’s been lying to you.’

‘How do you deduce that?’

‘Where’s her other man? Your Number 34? Who, if you want my opinion, is not Stefan. I know Stefan. He’d run a mile from a woman with a baby. Even Rosie. If he was a factor, he’d be the biggest factor and she wouldn’t need a spreadsheet.’

It was true that there were no emotional factors on the spreadsheet. The focus was on practicalities such as child care (father and extended family in Australia), job opportunities (approximately equal) and whether or not to continue the MD (multiple factors, no clear result).

‘Maybe she made the spreadsheet to make me feel better,’ I said.

‘You know,’ said Gene, ‘a statement like that is only possible in your and Rosie’s relationship. You need to be together to protect the rest of us. Don, there is no Number 34. He’s an excuse.’

‘There was a Skype message.’

‘I don’t know about any Skype message. What I know practically is that Rosie is a handful. And theory tells me that men don’t generally volunteer to take over a baby who doesn’t have their genes.’

Sonia gave Gene an incomprehensible look. ‘If you worked in IVF—’

But my mind was working in another direction. Rapidly. I have always been better with numbers than names. Now I remembered where I had seen the number thirty-four.

Before I had time to process the information, Sonia said, ‘Do you want to hold Rosie?’

It seemed an inappropriately personal question, until I realised what she was saying. Given names are not unique identifiers.

‘The baby is called Rosie?’

‘Rosina. But we’ll call her Rosie. If the sonogram had been wrong and it had been a boy, he would have been Donato. She’s only here because of you. You and Rosie.’

‘It’s going to be confusing.’

‘I hope so. It’ll mean you’ve got Rosie back into your life. Which you have to do. Here.’ She passed me the baby. I held it for a few moments, but my mind was still analysing the consequences of the Number 34 insight. I gave Rosie II back to Sonia.

‘What’s the total?’ I asked Gene. ‘With the sunk cost deleted.’

‘It takes nine points off. Hence minus two.’

‘Are you sure?’ I recalled the ticket counting for only four points. I reached for the spreadsheet to check, but Gene gave it to Sonia.

‘You want to check my arithmetic?’ he said.

‘Minus two,’ said Sonia.

I was stunned. ‘She’s made an error? The spreadsheet recommends remaining together?’

‘In the world you live in, yes. I don’t know about Rosie. She may want to add three points for the pain of changing the decision. How would I know?’

Dave walked in as I was planning my response.

‘Is everything okay?’ he asked.

‘Zero change in the baby situation,’ I said. ‘Do you have your vehicle?’

‘Yeah, it’s—’

‘JFK,’ I said. ‘Immediately.’

Dave was waving his keys but Sonia would not let me go without further advice.

‘Don’t try to argue her to death. And don’t forget to tell her you love her.’

‘She knows that.’

‘When did you last tell her?’

‘You’re suggesting I need to tell her multiple times?’

Love was a continuous state. There had been no significant change since we were married—perhaps a diminution in limerence, but it seemed unhelpful to provide Rosie with progress reports on that.

‘Yes. Every day.’

‘Every day?’

‘Dave tells me he loves me every day, don’t you, Dave?’

‘Uh huh.’ Dave waved his keys again.