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Commotion
Eleni That weekend, I lean my head back against the chair at the head of the circle and try to pretend like I’m listening to what Wife #12 has to say. I know her name. I know I know it. But Nicky insisted on brunch for this meeting, and the omelet Val has balanced on her lap is really testing the boundaries of my control over my stomach. I suck in a slow breath through my mouth, then exhale through my nose as one of the many, many parenting and pregnancy books Dr. Hanna suggested told me to. It doesn’t help. “…and that’s why I think you should have the wedding here,” she finishes. “In the backyard?” Nicky asks incredulously. “Like they’re hippies?” Wife #12 pouts. “If you’d listened, you’d know I considered that and have several suggestions that would allow Eleni to be…close to home wi
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