Your baby is the size of a mango.
Your baby is the size of all your sins.
The white front door swings open, and Ava stands there with a mug of coffee in hand, her pajamas still on, cardigan stained with toddler breakfast. Her usual immaculate curls are piled on her head in a haphazard bun, and the bags under her eyes indicate that maybe Poppy doesn’t have a perfect sleep schedule after all, since apparently she’s watching early-morning cartoons when “screen time is bad for children.” Seeing this raw, unfiltered version of Ava’s life feels like a crime, yet it swells Elodie’s heart with grateful relief.
Ava looks normal; she looks like a mother.
“Sorry to be here so early,” Elodie says.
The mug drops from Ava’s hand and smashes on the welcome mat.
Elodie doesn’t flinch, the slosh of liquid over her shoes barely even registers, and she takes time to hoist Jude a little higher on her hip and steady her breathing.
Abject horror crosses Ava’s face as she takes them in: Jude a living blood clot, Elodie still saturated, something torn out of their broken eyes.
“Oh my god.” Her hands fly to her mouth.
“You knew he stalked me for six years. I overheard you at Thanksgiving, and it makes sense now. You knew.” No malice threads through her voice, no accusation; she has been too far hollowed out.
Ava stares, completely frozen but for her shaking hands.
“But I don’t hate you,” Elodie says. “I was jealous, yes, but I respect you now. You went through hell losing your parents and you built yourself a beautiful life despite it. I wish…” Her voice catches, shreds around the edges. “I wish I knew how to do that, but I don’t.”
“Elodie.” It comes out barely above a whisper. “What… What happened?”
In the background, a new cartoon comes on, the music changing as Poppy lets out a little squeal of delight. It doesn’t seem to penetrate Ava’s shock.
“I thought there was something wrong with the house,” Elodie goes on. “But it was Bren. And it was me. And you knew.”
“I’m so… I’m so, so sorry.” Ava swallows. “Come inside. Please… Please, we’ll talk about it. Where is… Where is Brendan?”
Elodie almost laughs, but her mouth is too full of broken glass. “He loved me, worshipped me. But he is… irreparably fucked-up.”
Tears gloss Ava’s eyes, but she is pulling herself together now, hergaze flicking down the street to see if anyone’s watching as she tries to catch the edge of Elodie’s sleeve and pull her inside. It is like tugging at a ghost. Elodie only unravels, gossamer threads spinning out wild and lovely all around her.
“Please c-come inside,” Ava says. “I’ll help. We’ll figure this out.” But her eyes are on Jude again, his fire truck pajamas painted to his skin in blood.
There is nothing in his eyes.
“Can you take him?” Elodie says.
Ava reaches out without hesitation and takes Jude in her arms, adjusting him so he can lay his head on her shoulder. His body caves into hers, no resistance in his cotton limbs, no protest in his empty mouth. She is so much like Bren right then, those big, soulful blue eyes, the way she offers help immediately and assumes all problems can be fixed.
Elodie looks at Ava’s flat stomach, the lack of a baby when all she wanted was another. This was the right choice. This is the fulfillment of her promise to Bren to do what’s right.
“Is Bren still at the house?” Ava’s voice is high, but she fights to control it.
Elodie gives the smallest incline of her head.
“Come inside and I’ll get you some coffee. We’ll just… talk. You can tell me what happened, and I’ll—be here for you.” Panic has set into her voice, and she is struggling not to freak out. “We’ll give Jude a bath. Is he hurt?”
“The only thing wrong with him is me.” Elodie tucks her cold hands in her pockets to distract from the loss of his weight. The loss of him. “I loved him wrong, but I do love him. I need… I need—” Her voice cracks all the way through then, and she will never shape the rest of what she wanted to say.
All she can do is take a step backward, then another.
Ava’s eyes go wide and she reaches out a hand, a useless fluttering gesture. Understanding sweeps across her face.
Jude peels his head from Ava’s shoulder and looks at Elodie. His wail is high and clear, a sound that is precious to his mother, even though there is so much grief twined through it that she could hang herself with its weight.
