Still, I could admire his stubby little nose. The soft cheeks. His fragile curled-up fingers with the tiny nails. When I’d held him the one and only time, he was so light, like a pile of feathers.
I didn’t know how Jenny’s baby, Phoenix, felt. I’d managed to avoid holding her, not hard with doting grandparents vying for a turn. Up at the hospital, it had been easy to hold conversations with other adults, averting my eyes.
Now she wanted me over there.
The phone rang again.
Crap. I stood up from the floor and headed for the sofa. Yep, Jenny. I sighed and answered the call.
“Where are you?” Jenny cried. “Chance left me! Everybody left me!”
“What’s going on?” I asked. I pinned the phone to my ear with my shoulder and started shoving books in my backpack. I could see where this was going.
“She threw up! Twice! Then her diaper exploded!”
“What are you feeding her?”
“Just the boob!”
“How often?”
Jenny’s voice sounded exasperated. I could hear the baby crying close by. “I don’t know! Every time she cries!”
“She’s still taking it?”
“Not anymore! I can’t figure out anything to make her stop and Chance left without fixing the swing!”
I zipped up my bag. “You can just put her in her crib. Clean yourself up. Pull yourself together.”
“But she’s crying! She’ll be scarred for life!”
“Nope. She’ll probably fall asleep. Did you get her cleaned up?”
“Yes, sort of. It was really sticky.”
Geez, didn’t Jenny understand this was what motherhood was like? That messes and crying were what babies did?
“Please say you’re coming,” Jenny said. “I’m going out of my mind.”
I glanced at the clock on the wall. “I only have a couple hours until class,” I said.
Jenny’s breath rushed out, making a shhhhrrrr sound on the phone. “Thank you, Corabelle,” she said. “You’re the best.”
I clicked off the call. The abandoned pink star sat in a sparkling heap on the table. Bits of glitter all over the carpet caught the light. I’d tracked a fair amount out of the dining area myself. I couldn’t help but think of the contrast between what Jenny wanted for herself — the perfect pink stars and beautiful party — and what she was going through. Diapers and spit-up and feeling panicked and alone.
Definitely time for her to face reality.
~*′`*~
When I got to Jenny’s, she looked more composed than she had seemed on the phone. She wore a bright pink shirt and sparkly gray sweatpants. I tried not to notice the damp spots where her nursing pads weren’t quite up to their job.
“The baby fell asleep,” Jenny said. “I didn’t think it would ever happen.”
“Oh, good,” I said. Even better if I didn’t have to hold or rock her. I’d been stressed about it on the drive over. Just seeing the parts of baby furniture scattered around was starting to set off my need to flee.
“I can’t believe everyone deserted me,” Jenny said. Her hair was done up in an elaborate updo that mostly hid the change in color. She seemed very put together for someone who was so frantic twenty minutes ago. I struggled to squash my annoyance.
“I think a lot of parenting is sink or swim,” I said blandly. My mind wasn’t on my words now, but on the panic that was rising in me. I hadn’t felt this bad when we were up at the hospital. But here, surrounded by the way life should have looked for me, a baby in the crib, a home and family, my chest was getting tight.
Jenny grabbed my hand and led me toward the hall. “Come see her.”
My knees threatened to give out. My strongest urge was to pull away, to resist, but I forced myself to follow her down the short hall to the nursery. I had to do this. Jenny wasn’t going away. Neither was her baby. This was something I had to face.
The nursery was dim, the curtains drawn. A soft pink glow came from a shaded lamp in one corner. Our shadows crossed the floor inside the rectangle of light from the hall.
The room was in serious disarray, boxes and a half-assembled swing all over the floor. Jenny navigated the mess to the crib. I couldn’t see inside due to the ruffled canopy hanging over it.
Jenny pushed the fabric aside. The baby lay on her back, arms up by her head, wearing a pink and blue sleeper with little roses down the front.
My heart hammered painfully in my chest. My throat felt thick and my head thumped. I tried to take a step forward, but stumbled on a screwdriver.
I wanted to walk up and fake it. Admire the baby. Say something encouraging. Jenny was my friend. This was her baby. They would be a part of my life.
But some other force took over. Instead of getting closer, I backed away. I couldn’t do it. I kept seeing Finn’s crib with its cascade of butterflies flying over it. When I came home from the funeral after Gavin had taken off, alone and flooded with despair, I had destroyed the handmade mobile, piece by piece.
“I-I’m sorry,” I said to Jenny. “I have to get to class.”