“Who?” She might have said this a tad on the loud side.
“You know, your ex-fiancé.”
Her eyes suddenly widened, and she looked around the hall, as if for a weapon. “Are you actually saying that I’m using the baby as a distraction from my failed wedding?” As she glared at me, a baby began to cry. Ani shook her head in utter disappointment and dropped her voice to a whisper. “His name is Tyler. And I can’t believe you just said that!”
The wails were getting louder by the second. It always amazed me how such a tiny thing could have such a jarring, irritating cry. Worse than a ladder truck siren in traffic.
We walked down the hall and out the double doors near the elevators, where we could avoid being blamed and also continue our heated conversation. “You told me that you haven’t settled in here,” I said, “that you had some differences with your partners, that your parents were unexpectedly back. I mean, you’ve had a lot of upheaval in your life. Not to mention…us.”
“Us? Her brows shot up. “What about us?”
That threw her, I could tell. Hell, it threw me too.
“I don’t know about you, but I was shocked to see you. And that was only two days ago.” It felt like years. Actually, this conversation—or was it an argument—felt like I’d known Ani for years.
It felt like no conversation I’d ever had before. Liv and I had had a very calm relationship. I’d definitely never had to try to talk her out of doing unlikely, improbable, wild things.
“Seeing me was shocking to you?”
She was looking at me differently now, curiously waiting, tossing my curveball right back to me. She was asking me how I felt—about her, aboutus. “In an unexpected way,” I said, stalling.
“In a good-shocking way or a bad-shocking way?” she pressed.
“Mostly good,” I hedged. One look in her eyes and I knew I had to stop playing games. She deserved the truth. “I-I thought that I’d conjured you. That beautiful, confused almost-bride who had somehow ended up on that plane. I started out trying to help you, but it was you who ended up helping me. I felt sorry for you, but you were always going to be fine. And…” I squeezed my eyes shut. “You have conviction. You follow your heart. That’s…impressive.”
For once, she had no words. But I still had more to say. “You woke me up. You showed me that there was a way out of my quagmire of grief. I followed your light.” I blew out a breath and sat down on an ugly blue vinyl bench between the elevators. “Except right now,” I added, “I might be questioning your sanity.”
She sat down next to me. “Maybe you should’ve been a lawyer instead of a doctor, counselor, the way you laid out that case. Also, you might be a little condescending, but you listened when I talked, that’s for sure.”
Fleetingly, I thought about all I’d just admitted. I felt raw and wrung out as I grabbed her by the shoulders, and searching her eyes, I said, “Of course I listened. And I hope you listen to me too. I’m not telling you what to do. I’m only trying to help you to think about how huge this decision would be.”
“Anything is doable if you want it bad enough.”
“Yes, but just because you can do something doesn’t mean you should!”
Most people would be relieved not to have responsibility in a situation like this. Most of us would convince ourselves that everything would probably be okay. They’d be happy to pass the buck to someone—anyone—else. “Most people wouldn’t ask for a burden like this,” I said softly.
“She’s a helpless little baby, not a burden.” Ani sighed. “Look, I can’t explain how I feel.” Her voice was full of conviction. “I just feel it. Deeply. I somehow feel that she’s meant to be mine.”
My worried expression must have given me away because she said, “You think I’m impulsive and do things on a whim. You think that maybe I’m someone who lets my emotions carry me away. But haven’t you ever justknownsomething? It seems impossible, it seems improbable, but it also seems like the rightest thing you’ve ever done. That’s how I feel. Like I want to take my shot.” She gave a little smile. And that’s when I saw it—a look in her eyes—of complete calm and certainty.
Maybe I did think that she was overly driven by her emotions and also crazy to consider upending her life like this, but one thing was certain—she absolutely meant it. With every fiber of her being.
“Ani,” I said. But she’d already taken off down the hall to find my mom, who was still sitting behind the nursing station.
“Ms. Lowenstein,” she said, causing my mom to look up. “I wanted to talk with you about something.”
“Of course.” She looked up from the computer. “What is it?”
“What are the chances of me fostering the baby?”
I’d made it there just in time to see my mom level a surprised and skeptical look over her tortoiseshell readers. She said in a slow and careful tone, “A baby isn’t a puppy or a novelty, mydear. We all have sympathy, but what this baby needs is a family. Alifetimecommitment.”
Oh, boy. My mom, despite her not-unkind tone, hadmesquirming, and I wasn’t even the object of her reality check. Ani didn’t squirm. She tilted up her head. Set her jaw. And said, respectfully but firmly, “How do I get considered to be her foster parent—with intent to adopt?”
I had to hand it to her; she wasn’t intimidated by my mother’s words, which Mom had not minced. Her resolve hadn’t wavered.
My mom flicked her gaze at me, maybe to gauge the request. Or to wonder what on earth was my connection with this odd woman? I probably looked panicked. Iwaspanicked, not so much for Ani, but for me. Maybe that was selfish, but I was only being honest. Starting something with Ani was one thing, but with a baby in the mix? I didn’t have her impulsivity or her courage. I could barely handle myself.
