Apollo set Brian on his belly on the black rubber padding while the other kids tore around the play equipment. At two months old, Brian remained, by far, the youngest. Meaghan and Imogen flickered with interest at the sight of the baby. Isaac and Shoji completely ignored him. While on his belly, Brian puckered his lips and basically kissed the ground a few times before Apollo rolled him onto his back. Brian reached out, and Apollo slipped a set of large, plastic toy keys into the baby’s hand. Brian gripped and yanked and stared at the keys. He shook them wildly. His face practiced expressions, squinting at the keys, pursing his lips as if he were suspicious of them.
The other dads crowded closer and asked after Brian’s development like coaches eyeballing a rival player. Had Brian rolled over on his own yet? Transferred objects from one hand to the other? Raked up Cheerios by himself? The fathers bandied these questions about, half curious and half competitive, but Apollo didn’t mind. In fact, he enjoyed it just as much as them. He said nothing of the tremendous book he’d found the day before. Why would he? None of these men talked about their jobs, or their hopes and dreams, not when there were children to discuss. Apollo took out his phone and snapped a dozen pictures of Brian there on the rubber matting. The post from yesterday—the pictures of Brian in the Riverdale basement—had been a hit, at least the first few. Apollo logged onto Facebook and, just to be thorough, uploaded the images he’d just taken. All twelve.
THE DAY BEFORE, on Emma’s first morning back to work, she woke up alone, the two boys already off on a book hunt in Riverdale. After taking a piss, she ran the shower. Half an hour under the water, and Apollo never walked in to shit, Brian didn’t cry to be changed or fed or held. She’d never want a life without those two, but thirty minutes?
Yes, please.
Emma shaved her legs in the shower, though this had to be done slowly because it hurt to bend over. She washed her hair. She applied makeup in the mirror after the steam dissipated and felt surprised by her own face. How could she feel so different and look, largely, the same?
First day back to work. She surprised herself with how eager she felt to get there. Only part-time, but she retained her health insurance. That alone made the job worth having. Apollo never had health insurance. Once she’d been cut from full-time, he made more money, but her health insurance made a big difference. For instance, Kim would still be paid for her work as their midwife. Though, sadly, they were refusing to pay her for the delivery because, technically, she hadn’t been the one to do it.
Before getting dressed, Emma went to the freezer and found her storehouse of pads doused in witch hazel. She slipped one inside her panties and enjoyed the cold relief. Before leaving, she found her phone, tapped it on to find the message from Apollo. Eleven pictures of Brian deep asleep. She laughed at the sight, and her face flushed with love. She texted back: Why is my baby sleeping in a basement?
Then she left for work.
Emma passed Holyrood Episcopal Church on the corner of Fort Washington and 179th. Maybe they’d have Brian baptized there. Only two months, and already Lillian, raised Episcopalian in Uganda, had been hinting about the need. Emma’s family had been Catholic, rare birds in Boones Mill. But after her parents died, there hadn’t been much churchgoing for Emma and Kim. People were kind to them, invited them to worship all over the place, but the Valentine girls became a congregation of two.
Emma headed east, passing a worn-down Papa John’s branch and the new pharmacy that had replaced a butcher’s shop. St. Spyridon Greek Orthodox Church on Wadsworth Avenue, then 24-Hour Dental Lab, N&C Brokerage, and New Age Financial, all in a close row on the next block. At this hour the sidewalks were blurry with working people headed to their jobs and swarms of teenagers buzzing toward school. Emma announced herself as a problem to all those around her because she moved slowly. People muttered, even growled, as they sped around her, but she didn’t give a shit about them. Worse was the growing pain she felt the farther she moved from her apartment. A strange sort of swelling filled her chest, her throat.
She missed her son.
The feeling, nearly like grief, forced her to stop at one corner and lean on a mailbox. She cried quietly while the light went from green to yellow to red. She missed Brian, and now her breasts swelled, both filling with a stabbing pain. She’d brought her breast pump in her bag, planning to empty them during lunch, but she couldn’t wait that long. She sobbed softly and felt the distance from her child as surely as the ache in a phantom limb. Passersby noticed her, then ignored her. She caught her breath, straightened up, and made her way to work.
The three-story limestone building, built in 1914, had been funded by Andrew Carnegie, and the list of former locals it once served included Marianne Moore and Maria Callas, Ralph Ellison and Lou Gehrig. But Emma preferred to think of all the kids, anonymous and important, who’d been served at this branch, by women like her, for a hundred years. She hoped to be for each of them what Ms. Rook had been for her, a low-key liberator, a safeguard and a salve. Emma loved being a librarian.
Emma reached work at 8:35 and let herself into the building to find her colleagues—her friends—had strung up a sign that read WELCOME BACK in gold letters. Sheryl bought a cake from Carrot Top, best carrot cake in New York City. Carlotta had already brewed a fresh pot of coffee. Yurina, the youngest librarian, was the one who’d bought and hung the sign.
“I missed you,” Emma said as she hugged each woman.
Carlotta, overcome, kissed Emma on the forehead. It felt like a blessing from a high priest. They asked to see pictures of Brian, and Emma happily obliged. They cooed about his beautiful big eyes, the shape of his darling ears. Carlotta and Sheryl, mothers themselves long ago, gave unsolicited advice and made Emma promise to “cherish every moment because it all goes so fast.” Oh, the clichés of parenting! She knew that someday she’d be saying them to new parents, too, and so what? Really, all of it was lovely, and Emma couldn’t have asked for a better return. She ate cake and sipped tea. The older ladies crowed with praise when they heard Apollo had taken Brian to work with him. Then the librarians prepped for the day.
Emma grabbed the books in the book drop bin, then got the newspapers from outside. Down to the basement—the adult reading room level—where she replaced yesterday’s editions with today’s. Carlotta had already begun unpacking the new arrival books and checking them against the packing lists. Sheryl would be on the second floor today, the children’s section, though the branch was so small that all of them traded floors, and jobs, a few times a day. At the front desk Yurina powered up the two computers, and Emma checked that the four loaner laptops were fully charged. Then it was ten o’clock, and they opened.