The Friends We Keep

Fuck that, Hayley had thought. She didn’t want to think her baby had been a problem. It hadn’t been. Her baby had died. And it didn’t happen to everyone. It didn’t happen to most women. She didn’t want platitudes, she wanted revenge.

Her mom had promised it would get better and although Hayley and Rob hadn’t believed her, over time, the wound had scabbed up. It had never gone away, but they’d been able to move forward. To try again. It was only after the second miscarriage that they’d started to realize something else was going on.

Now on that hard floor, with the sun warming her back, she opened the scrapbook and saw the announcement of her birth. Well, not her birth, exactly. The announcement of her going home with her parents. There was a picture of her dad holding her, then one of her mom doing the same. There were a few handwritten notes about what they’d each been feeling. And a letter from her mom.

My Dearest Hayley,

There are no words to describe my joy in bringing you home. It’s been ten days and I still can’t believe you’re here and you’re ours. Every night I wake up two and three times to check on you. To stand in your room and listen to you breathing. You are so perfect. Everything about you is wonderful. Your father and I love you so much. We will always love you, dearest daughter. You are our miracle.

She traced her finger along the letters. She hadn’t been their miracle for long, she thought. A few months later, her mother had found out she was pregnant. And this pregnancy had gone to term. Morgan had been born less than a year after they’d brought Hayley home. Morgan, who had been a crying, colicky baby. Morgan who had grown into a difficult toddler and a loud, pushy little girl.

Hayley turned the pages of the scrapbook and watched herself grow up. There were copies of her report cards, certificates and various awards and even a few cards from her parents. There were also photos, some posed, some candid. The last one had been taken at Christmas, a few months before their parents had been killed.

Hayley touched the smooth surface of the picture, wishing her mom were still with her. She would know what to say about the situation with Rob. She would have good, solid advice about everything. She would hug Hayley so tight that for those few seconds, she could believe everything was going to be okay.

But there had been so many times when her mom had been too busy dealing with Morgan to bother with Hayley. Silly things, really. Like when it was Hayley’s birthday, Morgan got a present, too. Otherwise, she would make everyone miserable with her crying when she was young and later her complaining. But on Morgan’s birthday, Hayley was expected to simply watch her sister be the center of attention.

Morgan was always seen to first, whether it had been shopping for school clothes or when they’d both come home sick from school. It was never Hayley and Morgan—it was always Morgan and Hayley.

She looked at the pictures and notes and cards and wondered how she was supposed to reconcile what had happened. Her sister told her to suck it up and get over it. Was that good advice, or just Morgan once again protesting at not being at the center of the universe?

When their parents had unexpectedly died in a car crash, Hayley had been devastated. She’d barely held it together. Rob had been upset as well, but he’d taken care of so many of the details. At the reading of the will, Morgan had thrown a fit when she’d found out that their parents had left them each half of their modest estate. Morgan had argued that she had three kids and Hayley didn’t have any, therefore she should get the lion’s share. But the attorney had been firm. The will was not to be contested. If it was, Morgan would get nothing.

In her head, Hayley could justify every action her parents had made when it came to their daughters. But in her heart, she was unable to reconcile the love they proclaimed with how she had often felt. Second best. Less than. Yes, she was an adult and she should get over it. But looking back, her eight-year-old self hadn’t understood why Morgan got more presents every Christmas. Why Morgan’s demands for a new dress were answered with a new dress while she was told to make do. Why Morgan got two bedtime stories and she was read only one. Why Morgan wasn’t punished for some things when Hayley was. Whatever message they’d meant to send, the one that had been received had been clear—Morgan mattered more. And Hayley had only ever come up with one explanation.

Somewhere in all that, a need had been formed. The burning desire to have a baby of her own. One she would love as he or she should be loved. A child who would never lie awake and wonder why Morgan was cared about so much more.

Rob had tried to understand, but to him, adoption was an easy solution. They wanted children. There were thousands of children looking for families. Problem solved.