Izzy thought that it was strange for Dr. Grind to think of any newborn study as being odd. It was hitting Izzy, a weird, creeping sensation, that she was now expected to embark on this project, to take this baby boy, her son, and travel into the woods, into a mysterious complex, and surround themselves with strangers who would get to handle her baby with impunity. Her fear of being a single mom had now turned into the strangest of fears, of being only one of nineteen parents, not counting Dr. Grind.
“You’ll be released from the hospital tomorrow,” Dr. Grind said, and she wished he could buy into her own fantasy of never leaving this hospital room. “I’ll take you and Cap to your home and we’ll help you get settled.”
Izzy, who never wanted to make trouble, who had assembled a life that, before she got pregnant, seemed entirely invested in leaving no trace of her existence, now felt a shaking nervousness about her future. She did not want to go home, back to the unhappy life that would await her, but she did not want to go with Dr. Grind either. “I don’t know if I can do this, Dr. Grind; I feel like I’m making a mistake.”
“I do not blame you at all, Izzy,” he said, and Izzy noticed that Dr. Grind almost always made it a point to say her name, as if calming a wild animal. “It wouldn’t be normal if you didn’t feel anxiety about what comes next. But I can assure you that I am here to help you, to make your life so much better, to make Cap’s life better.”
“I don’t think I can give him up,” she said, and the baby began to stir and then cry.
“You aren’t giving him up, Izzy,” he replied. “You’re bringing him to something wonderful.”
Not thinking of Dr. Grind, to hell with being demure, Izzy opened her robe and tried to get Cap to breast-feed. The baby could not latch on, or would not, instead continuing to make a sound like a science project gone wrong. “I just don’t know,” Izzy said, adjusting the baby in her arms; she was leaking milk. The baby’s pitch increased by a significant decibel level and Izzy felt that stab of inadequacy, which she had foolishly hoped the baby’s arrival would eradicate. She softly jiggled the baby to no avail and then Dr. Grind, his face holding the most sheepish expression, offered his help, holding out his hands. Izzy reluctantly handed the baby to him and Dr. Grind took Cap into his arms, holding him close to his chest, making a soft sound with his mouth, like a little sewing machine, and he did a shuffling dance. The baby’s cries softened, perhaps because of the simple transition from mother to stranger, but then he quieted entirely, Dr. Grind still buzzing away, holding the baby as if he were his own. After a minute of quiet, he returned Cap to Izzy and he smiled.
“Okay,” Izzy said. “It’s okay. I’ll go. I’ll do it.”
“I’m very happy to hear that, Izzy,” he replied. He sat down on the chair and blew out an exaggerated burst of air. “Was it the trick I just did with the baby that sealed the deal?” he asked, and Izzy nodded. He shook his head. “Just dumb luck, I promise you, but I’ll take it.” Izzy again noted how much she liked him; she found it endearing and a little odd that someone who seemed entirely without ego had constructed the Infinite Family, someone who obviously believed that he was doing something correct and true despite all evidence against it.
When Dr. Grind finally left, promising to be back the next morning, she returned her entire attention to her son, who regarded her with what she anxiously interpreted as skepticism. She kissed him, the simplest and easiest thing to do, and waited for the moment, fast approaching, when he would need her again, and she would give him whatever he wanted.
The next morning, Izzy found that whatever endorphins the birthing process had bestowed upon her had become entirely depleted. She had been up several times during the night to feed the baby, to change the baby, to rock the baby, and now, the sun up and the nurses moving in and out of her room with their assigned duties, Izzy wished for an energy drink or a coffee, an IV of fluids hooked up to her arm. She packed up her meager duffel bag and included the baby’s gifts, both from the complex and from the hospital. The nurses also told her that she could keep her giant plastic mug from which she had sipped gallons of water over the past day, and she felt so happy that she immediately was embarrassed. She signed papers, thanked the nurses, and then, completely flummoxed as to why no one was stopping her, she walked out of the room with her baby, Cap Ellgee Poole, into the waiting area, where Dr. Grind was waiting for her, and then out of the hospital, still no one coming up to her to even give her a simple quiz on child rearing. Cap was hers, and no one, she realized, was going to take him away from her. Dr. Grind put her bag in the trunk of his car and then helped Izzy as they buckled Cap safely into the car seat. Izzy took her spot beside him in the backseat and Dr. Grind, after checking to make sure she was buckled up, gave her a thumbs-up sign and accelerated onto the highway. To anyone in the hospital, Izzy thought, they looked like a normal family.
After a long drive, during which Cap mostly slept, Dr. Grind finally turned onto a long, winding road that was lined with trees, bumping over the path until, like a mirage, the trees gave way and the complex took shape against its surroundings.