Gwen muttered, “Yes,” but she couldn’t look at the woman, couldn’t take in her sympathy.
“It gets easier, I promise,” the woman said. “Well, not in the parking lot. That’s always a bitch. But the whole drop-off thing gets easier.”
Gwen was thankful for the comic relief, felt a smile come to her face despite the anguish.
“Can I help you two inside?”
“That’s so kind, but I’m okay. I—”
The woman sighed. “I’m going to help you two inside.”
The woman in the orange vest was named Sheila, and she insisted on holding June for the walk from the car to the center entrance. Gwen was sure June would start crying in the arms of this stranger, but June appeared too mystified by the overall newness of the situation to register discomfort.
By the time they got inside, Gwen had managed to stop crying. Sheila introduced her to everyone they passed in the lobby and hallway—a flurry of names that Gwen would never remember. Everyone smiled and waved. They were shiny, happy people, the type of people you would want in a childcare environment.
“Ms. Johnson is the teacher in the infant room,” Sheila said as they approached the room where June would spend most of the day. Gwen thought the termteacherwas a little silly, but she just nodded.
Ms. Johnson was young—late twenties, early thirties at the most. She didn’t have a wedding ring. It was likely she didn’t have children of her own. That was the only reasonable explanation for why she had so much energy available for other people’s children.
“This must be June,” Ms. Johnson said, her face conveying absolute enthusiasm at the arrival of Gwen’s child. Gwen searched for something disingenuous in her huge smile, but couldn’t find anything.
“I’ve been looking forward to you, little one,” Ms. Johnson said to June. “You ready, Mom?”
Normally, Gwen hated it when people referred to her as “Mom,” invalidating her existence as a human being with a name and referring to her only by her role. But in this instance, she was fine with being “Mom.” She didn’t care if she was nothing to Ms. Johnson as long as Ms. Johnson treated June like she was everything.
Sheila placed June in Gwen’s arms, and Gwen transferred June to Ms. Johnson.
“I have all the instructions you emailed over—thank you for those,” Ms. Johnson said. She was addressing Gwen, but her eyes were locked on June’s, her face already contorting into all the goofy expressions adults make for babies.
“And you have my number if you need anything at all,” Gwen said.
“They send photo updates throughout the day here,” Sheila chimed in.
“We sure do,” Ms. Johnson said before blubbering her lips at June. June smiled, entranced.
“Okay,” Gwen said.
This was the time for her to leave, and yet she felt as if her feet, in her stupid heels, were bolted to the floor.
“I promise she is in great hands and we will have the best day,” Ms. Johnson said.
“Thank you,” Gwen said.
Gwen reached out to touch the soft hairs on June’s head. She thought of that morning’s Angeni vision, her mantra for the day:The bond between the two of us can withstand anything. She felt her eyes welling up with tears again. June didn’t seem upset at all. She didn’t understand that she was about to begin a phase of daily separation from the person who loved her most.
“Mama loves you,” Gwen said, kissing June on the cheek. “Mama will be back.”
The bond between the two of us can withstand anything.
Ms. Johnson lifted June’s tiny hand in a wave, and Gwen managed to lift her feet and walk out of the room, Sheila behind her saying, “You did good.”
Gwen sat in her car in the parking lot, waiting for Ms. Johnson to come running out to say that she had underestimated June’s attachment to her mother and that she did not think June was ready for this type of care. Nobody came out, though. Sheila resumed her parking lot duties, looking over at Gwen every couple of minutes to give her a thumbs-up. Gwen watched the parade of other mothers carrying babies into the center. There were so many of them in their business attire, looking harried and rushed. Gwen knew she was supposed to feel emboldened by them, assured that she wasn’t the only mother handing over her baby to people so she could go to work. But she didn’t feel emboldened. She just felt remorse. This wasn’t how it was supposed to be.
She kept thinking about how supportive Angeni Luna had been in that morning’s vision-dream. That wasn’t therealAngeni Luna, though. That was Gwen’s projection of what she wanted to think Angeni Luna would say. The real Angeni Luna always talked about how a mother and her child were not supposed to be separated. It was against nature. That was why Gwen was so emotional. Her tears weren’t evidence of something being wrong; they were evidence that she knew what was right. She was sure if she met the real Angeni Luna, she would want Gwen to go back into the day care center and retrieve her child.
Gwen tapped on her phone, checking for an update from Ms. Johnson. There wasn’t anything yet, of course. She went to Instagram, checked Angeni Luna’s page. No new posts. A text from Jeff appeared at the top of the screen:
You okay? How was drop-off?
