Maternity Leave by Trish Felice Cohen Read Free Book Online Page B

July is a good time. Women get three months vacation for procreating, so I figure I’ll race in July and August to prepare for the Tour de West, then race it in September.”
    “July? That means you just became pregnant today. No one tells people they’re pregnant the day they pee on the stick. You’re not supposed to tell anyone until after the first trimester.”
    “Why?” I asked, surprised that Danny knew any of this.
    “Superstition. It’s bad luck to announce a pregnancy before the fetus makes it to three months. Plus, it saves public heartache in case you miscarry.”
    “I’m pretty sure I’m not going to miscarry. Besides, I’m a pathetic single mom. People will probably think I spread the news early in order to jinx my baby’s life.”
    “Don’t you need to provide hospital records or something?” Danny asked.
    “Home birth, dude. What am I, a pussy? Home birth makes me sound tough and takes care of the hospital record issue.”
    “Now you’re talking crazy.”
    “I know. I’d like an epidural for my gyno’s speculum, there’s no way I’d have a baby without drugs. But no one has to know that. People have home births all the time. That’s my story.”
    “Can you name it after me?” Danny asked.
    “There’s not going to be a baby.”
    “Right. Speaking of that, what are you going to tell people when there is no baby after your maternity leave?”
    “That it didn’t get along with my dog and I put it up for adoption.”
    “Seriously?” Danny asked.
    “I am serious. People give their dogs away all the time when a new baby comes, I’ll do the opposite.”
    “That’s perfect. Name the kid after me in the meantime?”
    “No way, I’ll name it after me, regardless of its gender.”
    “You can’t name your dog and your first born Jenna. It’s too self-centered, even for you.”
    “The dog is Jenna II, the baby will be Jenna III. Both names are totally different than Jenna.”
    “I see your point.”
    As we reached the private airport at the end of the island, we saw some other cycling friends of ours in the distance. Davis Island is a very popular place to ride on rest days or in the off-season. It’s thirteen miles long if you ride along its outer edge, and in addition to a private airport, it has its own hospital, Little League, Olympic-size pool, tennis courts, restaurants, yacht club and dog park. Since social hour was about to commence, I told Danny not to say anything to the other cyclists, or anyone for that matter, about the fake pregnancy and he agreed.
    We spent the rest of the ride doing interval training. Danny said I should take a rest day, but there were a lot of people on the Island and I couldn’t help myself and had to ride hard. I felt bad ignoring Danny because he’s a very knowledgeable coach and wants to help. I’d actually hire him for coaching, in addition to massage, if I thought for a second I would listen to him instead of doing my own thing. Ironically, it’s commonly assumed that Danny coaches me since we both ride together so much. Neither of us has corrected this misconception because it has resulted in Danny raking in a lot of clientele, particularly women, who think that Danny is responsible for my meteoric improvement in cycling.
    When I got home after the ride, Jenna II went ape-shit as usual; howling, jumping around and licking my face. He keeps this up until he gets distracted, usually by the need to lick his ass. During his ass-licking, he forgets about his excitement and returns to normal temperament until I leave the house again. He does this every time I walk in the door. If I go out and get the newspaper and walk back in the house, he acts like I’ve been gone for months. This is the sort of attention on which I thrive and I think more people should feel this way about me.
    Jenna II generally goes by his nicknames, Santino or Sonny, which he acquired within six months of my owning him. First, because Jenna II is a male dog and I felt