The Rosie Effect

39

Rosie and I had the best Christmas ever. We were on the plane from Los Angeles to Melbourne and crossed the International Date Line, thus virtually eliminating the day that had given me so much stress in the past. We were further upgraded to first class and the cabin was only half-full. The stewards were incredibly friendly. Rosie and I talked about Christmases of the past, which had been painful to her also, due to the absence of her mother as a result of death. Phil’s family and her mother’s relatives were good people but annoyingly intrusive. I could relate to this.

We talked about our plans. Rosie had accepted my theory of three relationships and was willing to trial my approach to the division of responsibilities. My performance with the lesbian mothers’ baby had given her reassurance that I would be able to relate emotionally to Bud. I warned her that it might take some time.

‘That’s fine,’ she said. ‘I guess I was worried that you would somehow mess up my relationship with him or her.’

‘You should have just said so. I’m good at solving problems and following instructions. I would have done whatever was necessary to preserve our relationship.’ The responsibility I had volunteered for aligned with my instincts in the same way that Rosie’s giving priority to the baby aligned with hers.

Rosie would defer her decision about continuing at Columbia for a few months. This seemed sensible.

Phil decided to stay in New York for Christmas, sharing our apartment with Gene, as well as Carl and Eugenie, who were due to join their father for January. He was extremely happy about everything—seeing Rosie, the Bud situation, and Rosie and me being together—but recognised that we would enjoy some time in his house alone in Melbourne to recover from jet lag and acclimatise to summer.

Nobody else knew we were coming, so we had eight days together without interruption. It was incredible! The enjoyment of interacting with Rosie was amplified by the realisation that I had almost lost her.

Phil’s house in suburban Melbourne had broadband-internet facilities, and that was all I needed to communicate with Inge and the B Team and continue writing up the two projects.

Phil returned on 10 January. All relatives wanted us to stay in Melbourne for the birth, and David Borenstein supported the decision. Rosie had already cancelled her US arrangements and booked at a Melbourne hospital after deciding to leave me, so it was less disruptive to plans overall.

We spent three days at my family home in Shepparton. The stress of interaction was alleviated by the debriefing of the Soundproof Crib Project with my father. We talked for hours beyond bedtime without the support of alcohol. My father had solved some practical problems with the use of the materials, and the Korean research team was negotiating the rights to the improvements and my father’s ongoing participation. It was unlikely my father would become rich but, in a scenario reminiscent of the passing of the batons, he would need to hand the hardware store responsibilities to my brother Trevor. My brother was extremely pleased with this development. I wondered if one day I would hand over something of my life to Bud.

To my surprise, and in contradiction to predictions from Gene, my mother and Rosie got on well and seemed to have a great deal in common.

Our baby emerged without problems (other than the expected discomfort of birth, which my reading had prepared me for) at 2.04 a.m. on 14 February, the second anniversary of our first date, the Jacket Incident and the Balcony Dinner. Everyone noted that it was Valentine’s Day, which explained why I had encountered difficulty in reserving a table at a prestigious restaurant two years earlier.

The birth process would have been fascinating to watch, but I followed Gene’s advice to ‘stay at the head end’ and provide emotional support rather than observe as a scientist. Rosie was extremely happy with the outcome, and I was surprised to find that I had an immediate emotional reaction myself, though not as strong as when Rosie had decided to rejoin our relationship.

The baby’s gender is male, and accordingly we have given it a conventional male name. There was some debate.

‘We can’t call him “Bud”. It’s a nickname. An American nickname.’

‘American culture is pervasive. Bud Tingwell was Australian.’

‘Who’s Bud Tingwell?’ said Rosie.

‘Famous Australian actor. He was in Malcolm and The Last Bottle.’

‘Name one scientist called Bud.’

‘Our son may not be a scientist. Abbott from Abbott and Costello was Bud. Bud Powell was one of jazz’s most important pianists. Bud Harrelson was an All-Star shortstop.’

‘With the Yankees?’

‘The Mets.’

‘You want to name him after a Mets player?’

‘Bud Cort was Harold in Harold and Maude. Bud Freeman. Another influential jazz player. A saxophonist. Plus numerous Buddys.’

‘You’ve looked it up, haven’t you? You don’t know anything about jazz.’

‘Of course. So I would have a convincing argument for retaining the name. It seems odd to change someone’s name because of a single event in their lives. You didn’t change your name when we got married.’

‘We’re talking about his birth. Anyway, it stands for Baby Under Development. First: he’s not under development any more, he’s an actual baby, and second: he won’t always be a baby.’

‘Unfortunately Hud isn’t a name.’

‘Hud?’ said Rosie.

‘Human Under Development.’

‘It’s the name of a prophet. An Islamic prophet. You’re not the only one who knows stuff.’

‘Unacceptable. Blatant connection to a religion is inappropriate.’

‘Short for Hudson, maybe.’

I considered Rosie’s suggestion for a few moments.

‘Perfect solution. Concatenation of Human Under Development and Son. Connection to New York, the place of conception, via the river and the associated explorer. Australian usage with connection to the Terrorist Incident which saved our relationship.’

‘What?’

‘Hudson Fysh was the founder of Qantas. Common knowledge from the airline magazine.’

‘And Peter Hudson, the footballer, was Phil’s hero. One little problem. Remember what it stands for. Under Development. He’s a full human now. Actually, it makes him sound like the son of a human under development.’

‘Correct. Humans should be permanently under development.’

Rosie laughed. ‘Hudson’s father, in particular.’

‘Since you nominated only one problem, and it has been dismissed, I assume that he is now named Hudson.’

‘Hard to argue with your logic. As always.’

Another joint task successfully completed. I gave Hudson back to Rosie to feed. I needed to schedule Phil to babysit so that Rosie and I could commence tango lessons.