Irish Sea near Isle of Achleith, Scotland, July 2022
Dr. Jennifer Foster spread her right arm into the space beyond the charter boat. As seawater sprinkled all over her face and her bright, salad-green and lemon-yellow dress with purple flowers, she squealed.
Her girlfriends, sitting by her side at the end of the boat, squealed with her. They all held plastic champagne glasses.
“Shh,” said Natalie drunkenly, “your champagne is sticking out.”
Natalie made a movement to shove the dark-green neck of the bottle back into Amanda’s purse, but her hand slipped, and she giggled. So did Jenny, Kyla, and Amanda.
“I don’t think MacGrumpy over there will tell MacBoss,” said Amanda, then drank the rest of her champagne from the glass in one gulp and took the bottle back out from her purse. “Not for the tip we’re going to give him.”
While Amanda poured more bubbly into her glass, the boat jumped on the waves, and she poured half of her serving onto the deck. Jenny raised her glass.
“Here’s to us,” Jenny toasted. “Four strong, independent women in their prime! We have our careers, our money, and can eat our cake, too!”
“Yeah!” echoed her girlfriends, clinking their four glasses together.
Amanda added over the edge of her glass, “And to the sexy Scottish guys I’ve been banging for a week… And Jenny has not!”
Jenny flashed a glare at her best friend but said nothing. She threw back the drink and the bubbles tickled her throat. “I also did not get divorced recently.”
“Not recently,” said Kyla as she tucked her shining, dark hair behind her ear. “You did three years ago, and you still haven’t slept with anybody.”
Jenny scoffed. “Pfff. Like it’s a bad thing.”
“Excuse me!” cried Amanda as she struggled to keep her blond hair out of her eyes. “Sweetie, I love you, but you sound a little judgmental.”
Natalie looked between them. She was sporting gorgeous designer sunglasses and a bright-red sundress that was striking against her dark skin. After a week away from her two kids, with more hours to sleep and time to breathe, she looked fresh and full of energy. “Girls, don’t fight. I know what’ll help!” She took the bottle of champagne from Amanda’s hand. “This!”
As she poured more champagne, emptying the bottle, Jenny glanced at her and at Kyla. “I always wanted what Kyla and Natalie have. Kids. Family. And yet, I’m thirty-nine, and…”
She trailed off, unable to say the words. The brilliant blue sky—so rare for Scotland—and the sapphire seawater hurt her eyes. Tightness in her throat didn’t let any words out.
What she wanted to say was, she was thirty-nine and her time was running out. She had had three unsuccessful IVF rounds with a sperm donor in the past two years. The IVF failed to implant because of her endometriosis, no doubt, an incredibly painful condition she had lived with her whole life. Her periods had been agony. She had learned to manage it and live with it, but the worst thing was that her chance of getting pregnant and carrying her own child in a natural way was very small.
Her last chance to have her own baby was in fourteen days. The fertility clinic was booked a year in advance, and that was the only time slot they had for her to start the hormone treatment to extract her last viable eggs and freeze them.
She couldn’t even think about sleeping with anyone…
“And,” Amanda continued for her after a long pause, “you’re one of the most sought-after private pediatric doctors in New York City, together with me, your partner. You and I have a thriving practice, help a lot of kids get well, and…excuse me for bragging, but we’re not exactly hurting for money.”
“Amanda!” said Natalie.
“Oh, come on,” said Kyla. “It’s not like they’re using the kids. They deserve their success. It’s you and I who are stuck at home wiping snotty noses and chasing after preschoolers.”
Jenny smiled. “I want to chase after preschoolers,” she said to Natalie and Kyla.
Her life felt incomplete without a child of her own. Something big and sweet was missing, and that emptiness was like a giant hole in her soul that sucked and ached.
“But you don’t want to give up your clinic, do you?” asked Natalie. “Amanda and you have been building it for ten years.”
Jenny gave out an uncomfortable laugh. Suddenly, it was all becoming too serious and too much to the point. Through the roar of the boat’s engine and the noise of the waves crashing against its sides, the voice of her ex-husband was trying to break through in her mind. Deep down, deep, deep down, men want to take care of women and women want to be taken care of. If only you worked less and spent more time with me…if only we’d started a family earlier…
And he had started on a family—only, without Jenny. He had a two-year-old daughter now and his new wife was a stay-at-home mom. Exactly how he wanted his relationship to be.
And Jenny…Jenny had zero little girls, only a handful of eggs left, one empty apartment, and a terrifying, sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach that she was too late. That she’d never have her own baby to hold and to adore, to inhale that dear, sweet baby smell.
That Tom had been right. That it was all her fault. All of it. Had she given in and let him take charge and sold her part of the clinic to Amanda, she could have spent more time with him. He wouldn’t have cheated on her. They’d still be together. Had she started trying to get pregnant at thirty-two, like he’d suggested, she’d have her own little girl or boy to love and to spoil. A little girl or boy with Jenny’s naturally pale red hair and Tom’s green eyes.
“And I admire you so much,” said Kyla. “You and Amanda achieved what I have dreamed of but didn’t dare. And yet the four of us went to the same medical school.”
Jenny sighed. “I’m the one envious of what you have,” she said. “All of you have kids. Even if your marriage didn’t work out, Amanda, you still have a son. And you, Natalie and Kyla, you have happy families. It’s most likely too late for me.”
“Don’t say that,” Kyla said. “Women get pregnant in their late thirties and early forties all the time. Cameron Diaz had a baby at forty-seven. Naomi Campbell gave birth at fifty.”
The boat jumped over a wave and Jenny’s chin rattled. “Yes, but—”
Amanda linked her arm through Jenny’s. “Here’s what we’ll do.” She pointed at the sea. “The moment we step on that Irish coast, we go to a pub. And this time, you will come.”
“I came to the pubs in Scotland.”
“Yeah, right. I mean, this time, you will flirt with hot Irish men, and you’ll have lots of sex with them—yes, multiple them—and if you get knocked up…well…oops.”
The ladies giggled. “Amanda, don’t be silly,” said Natalie. “She won’t get knocked up by an Irish guy.”
“Because she should get knocked up by one of those Highlanders back in Scotland…” said Kyla over the glass of champagne.
They all laughed. It seemed Jenny was the only one who didn’t feel the humor.
“Oh yeah,” Amanda said. “As someone who’s tried the local cuisine multiple times…and tasted multiple dishes, if you get my meaning…I can highly recommend it.”
“We can even extend our holiday!” cried Natalie, raising her glass. “Yes, we have one week left, but we can just return to Scotland for a few more days…”
“Actually, we can’t,” said Jenny. “I have an appointment in two weeks to start the hormone treatment for egg extraction.”
The smiles on the girls’ faces fell. “Really? Has it come to that?” Kyla asked.
“Yeah. I only have ten more eggs left, and this is my last chance to have my own baby. And I’d still need to use a surrogate.”
They were all silent, looking at her with pity.
“Come on,” Jenny forced out with a smile. “Cheer up. Enough about me. We are celebrating Amanda’s divorce. Even if it’s not in warm and sunny Hawaii.”
“That’s the spirit!” cheered Natalie.
Amanda rolled her eyes. “I picked Scotland and Ireland because I wanted ‘real men’ who will take charge and call me ‘lass’ and make me forget everything. And let me tell you, Highlanders do exactly that.”
Jenny giggled. “Oh yeah? I’ll stick with Hawaii, where men are gentler and take care of you.”
“Oh, believe me, Scottish men can take care of you very well.” Amanda winked.
The roar of the ferry motor huffed and puffed. The boat jerked to a halt. Then started again. Then the roar turned to a weak droning and the boat stopped. As they rocked gently on the waves and the vibration of the motor that she had felt for the past hour died down, Jenny had the disorienting feeling of the floor moving under her feet...
