“I don’t know what to think.”
“I said I’m sorry. Isn’t that enough?”
Is he apologizing because he regrets missing his baby’s birth? Because he failed his wife and scared the crap out of me? Or is he sorry because Meredith’s angry?
This was supposed to be the happiest day of her life, but instead of celebrating Allyson’s arrival, she’s stuck sorting out the mess Dad’s carelessness caused.
It’s so unfair.
22
I TAKE MEREDITH’S CAR HOME, SINCE MYparents will be spending the night at the hospital with their new baby.
The house is gloomy and too quiet. I consider calling Kyle or Leah, but I have no idea how to describe Ally’s birthday to my friends.My father missed the entire ordeal. In brighter news, I got to snip the umbilical cord!
It’s nearing midnight and I’m exhausted, but I’m also too keyed up to sleep. I take to the kitchen, dirtying all the measuring cups and spatulas in my arsenal. As I bake to the gentle whir of my new mixer, my posture loosens and my worries recede. I find my groove, that wonderful, intangible place where I’m scooping and sifting and stirring with an empty head and a satisfied heart, and I never, ever want to stop.
When the sky begins to lighten, I line my confections on the counter, wrapped and ready for transport. I’ve made Meredith’s favorites: a spongy almond-flavored butter cake with a crisp sugar glaze, chocolate babka, and lemon blueberry tarts, which I baked in the fluted tart pans she gave me for Christmas. As I admire my work, my stomach rumbles. I snag a tart—it’s to die for, just the right combination of sweet and sour—before retreating to my room and falling into bed.
***
When I wake, the day’s in full swing.
I send my dad a text, asking him to call my school so my absence will be excused. Then I scrub the kitchen, fold laundry, and set up the Pack ’n Play that’s been sitting, boxed, in the nursery. I pause only briefly to wonder if Max made it to school, if he’s hungover, if he’s aware of how completely my life has changed since yesterday’s roadside rescue.
Seems like ages ago.
Dad calls at lunchtime and suggests, since I’m playing hooky from school, that I come to the hospital for a visit. “Don’t forget to grab the camera,” he says. He hangs up before I have a chance to dissect the nuances in his tone, but if I had to guess, I’d say his marital problems haven’t disappeared overnight.
I indulge in a leisurely shower, then blow my hair out. I’d like to take Meredith her baked goods and I’d like to see Ally, maybe hold her again, but the anger and accusations of last night have made me gun-shy. It’s midafternoon when I finally leave for the hospital.
Meredith tears up when I present her with the pastries. “How will I ever eat all of this?” she asks, half laughing, half crying.
Apparently she has no plans to share with my dad.
He remains in the corner, holding a pink-swathed Allyson, looking on while Meredith and I chat about the baby’s first night. She tells me about the challenges of diaper changing and how gross spit-up is and how helpful the nurses have been. She devours two tarts, a slice of babka, and a good chunk of the butter cake as she talks. I try not to laugh, watching her pig out so enthusiastically. When she’s done, Dad passes her Ally and gets comfortable in the recliner, picking at one of the pieces of chocolate babka that escaped Meredith’s binge.
Since the three of them seem peaceful enough, I wander to the cafeteria. When I return with a large, heavily sugared coffee, everyone’s napping. Meredith’s in bed, and Dad’s crammed into the vinyl recliner beside her, one elbow crooked under his unnaturally bent neck. Ally’s snuggled into her hospital-provided crib, its clear plastic sides a window into her world. I use the camera to snap a few quick pictures, then plop down in another chair—a hard, plastic thing brought in by an attentive nurse—to drink my coffee and watch my sister snooze.
Her round face is placid, and her peach-fuzz hair is covered by the rose-colored hat Marcy knitted for her. She’s wrapped tight in a flannel blanket, but her eyelids twitch, like she’s having a vivid dream. I want to pick her up and hold her, but her fragility intimidates me. Babies are all too easily droppable.
Dad lets out a jagged snore. I hold my breath as Ally stirs. Turning her head slightly, she peers at me with graphite eyes.
“Newborns can’t see very well,” Meredith told me a few weeks ago, during one of her many baby lectures. I was only half listening, but that nugget of information resurfaces, spoken in the slightly haughty voice she often used while educating Dad and me on the ways of the enigmatic newborn. “It’s hard for them to focus on anything more than a foot or two in front of them, and they can’t fix their gaze until they’re nearly two months old.”
This I find hard to believe. My sister is staring at me as if she wants to sit up and have a chat, maybe hear the latest McAlder gossip.
Feeling like an idiot, I smile and give her a little wave.
She makes a soft gurgling sound and flails her tiny fists. I bend over the crib for a better look. She makes it again, the coo that sounds sweet and pure.
Worried she’ll wake my parents (ourparents, I guess), I slide one hand under her head and the other beneath her rear, careful not to unravel the burrito-like swaddling Meredith wrapped her in. She weighs almost nothing, though she’s living and breathing and squirming a little. Gingerly, I bring her against my body and sit back down. She’s warm and she smells good: clean, the softest lilac. There’s a certain comfort that comes with holding her, like she might be capable of making life okay again.
My tranquil moment is interrupted by muffled voices in the hallway. I look to the door and see Marcy peering through the glass. She pushes into the room, tears streaming down her face. She’s carrying gorgeous fuchsia tulips and aWELCOME BABY GIRLballoon. School’s apparently out for the day, because Max is with her. He hangs back, hands buried in the kangaroo pocket of his sweatshirt, while his mom places the flowers on the counter.
She comes closer, squeezing my shoulder as she gazes down at Ally. “Oh, my… She’s so beautiful.”
I’m about to offer to let her hold the baby when Meredith shifts. She opens her eyes, smiling at the sight of our neighbors. I drop my eyes to Ally, listening to softly spoken words ofluckyandperfect, wondering at Max’s surprise appearance. When Dad wakes to the quiet commotion, the room erupts in congratulatory hugs. It seems the misery of last night is forgotten when he retrieves Ally from my arms and sits down next to Meredith on the bed. I’m not sure if they’re putting on another show or if they’ve decided to let last night go, but the sight of them beside each other is reassuring. I find myself relaxing into my seat.
