“Good morning.” I grinned, gesturing to my face.
His cheek bore a hint of Mom’s lipstick from when she must’ve said goodbye. He rubbed it into his skin, unbothered.
Jen handed me the newest ultrasound and visit summary for me, presumably so I could analyze it for her while I ate.
The scan showed her baby curled up, all fingers and toes accounted for. Amazing how fast we could grow.
“This looks great.” I tried to share a smile with her, but she wouldn’t make eye contact, so I focused onher, per her request last night. “Your due date’s getting close. Are we going to throw a baby shower?”
She set the documents aside. “I don’t know who I’d invite.”
The same people she’d invite to any party. “What about your friends?”
“We haven’t been hanging out as much lately.” She twisted her lips to one side.
I guessed it’d be harder to get around in her state. Maybe things had slowed in her social circle before that. It was hard to tell, since she’d lied about who she was going out with and hadn’t been posting online as much.
“You’ll still have family,” I said.
“It’s too far for most of them.” She turned to Dad. “Do you think your sister would come?”
“Uh, I don’t know about that.” He flapped out the newspaper to shield himself from the conversation.
“What about Kat?” I suggested. After all, she wasoursister.
Jen shook her head. “I don’t know aboutthat.”
“Oh, come on. It’d be a nice olive branch. The baby could use another auntie,” I said. And she could use another friend—or something like it.
“I’ll think about it,” she said, picking at the toast.
It wasn’t much. But it was progress. A silver lining in all this mess.
***
Mom would probably handle any decorations or bigger gifts for the baby, but I still wanted to dosomethingto celebrate the incoming addition to our family. My only advantage was medical knowledge and a discount at The Closette.
During a lull in my shift, I perused the nursing bras. We had a few variations: clips or pull down, supportive or soft. Soft seemed like the obvious choice, but Jen had already complained about feeling ‘huge and saggy.’ I tested the clasp for ease of use.
“What are you doing?” Giselle demanded from my left.
I jerked back so fast the hanger spun. “Ah, just trying to figure out which version to recommend.”
“Try them on,” she said, grabbing a few bras off the rack.
“Oh, no. I couldn’t.” Whipping my shirt off at work seemed like a bad idea.
“Experience is the best education,” she said, matter-of-fact.
“It can be.” Clinical work had always stuck with me better than anything I’d read.
Giselle fixed the display, her chin held high. “I studied fashion in France. They had us model for each other between drafts to develop empathy for the clients along with our artistic visions.”
“That’s smart,” I said. Hopefully, that meant more comfortable material and useful pockets for everyone.
She stroked the lace trim on a bra. “We got a better idea of what felt right and what was going to fall apart the first time we tested it. I started keeping body tape in my bag so I never had to walk out naked due to someone else’s foolishness.”
There had to be a metaphor in that.
