Don't. Don't ever call. You screw something up every time you call.
Carefully, braced between the baby's screaming and her mother's idiocy, Sarah said, "Okay."
"Have you had a chance to call Pastor Dennis about setting up the Dedication?"
This question had so little relevance, it left her bewildered. "What?"
"The Dedication, honey. For Becky."
Her mom was acting as if this wouldn't be a big deal, like looking up a number and making a phone call was a simple thing. Like there was still room in Sarah's days for anything other than the baby. "I... no, I haven't. I have to go." Can't you hear her?
"Okay, give her a kiss for me! Call me later."
Sarah hung up.
7
What To Expect had insisted that a newborn in its first month would spend a lot of time sleeping. Technically, Sarah supposed, that was true. But it never felt like the baby slept, because anything could wake it up, at any time. It particularly hated the crinkle of plastic bags or tinfoil, but anything - a honk outside, a thump from upstairs, a sob from its mother that wasn't sufficiently stifled - would do the job.
After it finally got done with her ruined breast, it started screaming again.
Sarah got the pacifier. Rebecca spit it out. Sarah unwrapped its blanket. Rebecca flailed and kicked, shrieking harder. Sarah re-swaddled it, held it close, shushed it as they'd instructed her at the hospital. The creature's caustic screams tore into her ears like razor blades.
She felt attacked.
"Please," she whimpered as she gently bounced the thing on her shoulder. "Come on, would you please just -"
It responded with a renewed spat of screaming, driving each one into her ear like a nail.
Shut up! she wanted to scream back. SHUT UP! She imagined throwing it against the wall. Her hands tensed.
She smelled poop.
"Did you go?" Her voice quavered in her ears, barely audible over the thing's screams. "Well, god."
She laid it on the floor, unwrapped it. Its stubby arms and legs unfolded from itself like tentacles from some space monster, jerking back and forth, exposed and vulnerable. Its face was red with screaming.
When she got it changed and re-swaddled, it fixed its glittering black eyes on her and fell silent.
What? she wanted to say, but she knew it was pointless. The thing didn't want anything from her. It only wanted to judge.
8
When it fell asleep later, Sarah crept into her bedroom with her phone. She closed the door, muffling the ever-present creak-click of the mechanical swing. The room was striped with shadows from the blinds.
She didn't want to call her mom back; she wanted to sleep. But she knew if she lay down now, she would just stare at the ceiling until her mom called again anyway, and the ringing phone would most likely wake the baby. This fact made her seethe.
"Why can't you just wait?" she hissed as she punched out the number. "Do you have any idea how hard it is to make it go to sleep?"
"Hi," her mom said. "Becky full?"
"I guess. It's hard to tell."
"Well, is she still crying?"
"No, but that doesn't mean anything. It'll cry just to spite me."
"What? No. Don't say that."
"All right." Can I go to sleep now?
The silence stretched out long enough that Sarah started to wonder if her mom was actually worried about her.
"Well, anyway - I just wanted to let you know I'll be out of town next week."
Nope. "Kay."
"I'm going down to Phoenix. We've got a new vendor down there and I'm the only one they trust to show 'em the ropes."
"All right."
"It's gonna be hot! I'm worried about how hot it's gonna be."
"Yeah."
"It's hot enough up here but I heard in Phoenix it's one-oh-five today!"
"That's pretty hot."
"Can I talk to Becky?"
Sarah winced, shook her head. "It's sleeping."
"What?"
"It's sleeping right now, and it had to scream my ears bloody before it would do it, so I'd rather not wake it up."
"'It'?"
She realized, dimly, that she'd said something wrong. The baby wasn't an it, it was a she. "Sorry. Rebecca." She tried to wave it off: "I'm just tired."
"Oh." Another silence, a long one. Then, "Are you doing okay?"
Sarah pinched her eyes shut. She'd fallen for this one before. She didn't want to fall for it again.
She did anyway. "My nipples started bleeding last night. I think I'm doing something wrong." She hated the need in her voice.
"Oh, honey, you know I can't help you with that. Gross. I don't even know why you're doing that. You were bottle-fed, and it worked out fine. You don't have to believe everything you read, you know. You don't have to do everything perfect all the time."
Stupid, Sarah berated herself. Stupid, stupid, stupid.
"You know I'd help out more, but I'm traveling so much now, I'm never at home, and when I am, I can't have a baby crying at all hours. You know that. This was your decision."
Sarah licked her lips. They were dry, cracking. "Yeah."
"I'm happy to pay for the apartment, sweetheart, you know that. If you need anything else you just let me know."
"I could stay there while you're gone, maybe," Sarah pressed, appalled at her weakness. "Just show Rebecca my old room, let her see -"
"I might have to come back early, though, Sarah. If we do good down there I'll be wrapping up early and coming home, and I'll be tired from the flight. I can't have a baby crying when I'm trying to catch up on my sleep."
"Okay."
"You have your own place there, and it's not cheap, you know. Enjoy it."
Sarah stared at the wall, choking back pleas. "Okay."
"All right. Give Becky a kiss for me. Love you!"
"Yeah." Sarah hung up and crawled into bed. She folded the pillow over her head and willed herself not to cry.
She was nearly asleep when the goddamn phone rang again.
9
"Sarah? Were you sleeping?" Heidi demanded, as if the notion were preposterous.
"I was trying."
"It's after one," she rejoined at once. There were other people in the background: Bruce, Megan. She braced herself against the possibility of hearing Cal. She didn't want to talk to him, but it's exactly the kind of thing he would do: hang out in the background while Heidi called her, acting nonchalant, even though he hadn't even seen his daughter yet.
"Tell her to come over," one of the voices demanded.
"James says you should come over. We're gonna go see a movie."
"I can't."
"Oh, come on!"
Are you an idiot? She used to think Heidi was smart. "I have. A baby." She said the words slowly, like she was speaking to an imbecile.
"Can't your mom watch her?"
"No, my mom is working." Funny that she would ask first about Sarah's mom, rather than Cal.
"Oh. She can't," Heidi said, and covered the phone to confer with other muffled voices. Sarah made out the words, She has a baby, you dumbshit. Someone laughed. Heidi came back. "Well, what about tonight? Your mom's not working tonight, right? We're going to Aqua."
Sarah boggled. It was like an alien from another planet had called her cell phone. "No, Heidi. I can't come with you to Aqua tonight."
"You can't let the kid ruin your life, Sare. Come on, we're all leaving next month for school. You gonna leave us hanging all summer?"
Her blithe insistence, so enticing the summer before, was maddening. I can't take a baby to a nightclub, she wanted to say. What part of that don't you understand?
She could ask them to come over to her place, maybe watch a movie here. But she couldn't breastfeed in front of them, so she would just end up constantly ducking out, and if the kid decided to have one of its screaming fits...
"Sorry," she said.
Heidi scoffed. But at least she finally hung up.
/> 10
Sarah stared at the phone, wondering how her friends could be so stupid. The fact that she had been one of them just six months ago was barely conceivable.
Then, for just an instant, she entertained the idea of going with them. Rebecca would probably sleep the whole time anyway. Even if she woke up, so what? A one-hour delay between feedings wouldn't kill her.
Ugh. The truth was, the thought of spending an evening with that crowd was nauseating. And going to a nightclub? In what, her mom jeans and maternity bra?
Still, the idea of not having to be alone with Rebecca, the idea of company, had seized her. It shimmered, an oasis at the top of the next sand dune.
Yearning for something she couldn't define, she thumbed a text message to Cal.
-Want to come over tnite? Watch a movie with me and ur little girl?-
Her finger hovered over Send as she imagined him finally coming over, meeting his daughter of two weeks. He wasn't always a prick. When she'd told him she'd decided against adoption, he had been really decent about it. Every now and then, he surprised her.
But she hit Delete. He should have to reach out to her; not the other way around.
She meant to put the phone down and try (for the third time) to take a nap. Instead, she found herself scrolling through her contacts, to the entry for Tiff Gunderson. The girl's picture popped up, and it made her heart catch: short, brown hair and a sly, confident smile. God, Sarah missed her. And she had no business calling her, either. She'd burned that bridge, and burned it hard.
But a tiny corner of her mind had been searching for an excuse to call her for weeks - even before Rebecca was born - and now, suddenly, it delivered one.
Don't you dare call her, Pastor Dennis demanded. Don't you dare. It was hard enough to get away from her the first time.
But the old reasons for keeping her distance were almost laughably irrelevant now. It wasn't like they were going to jump into bed tonight. They hadn't even talked in months.
Her heart pounding in her throat, she hit Call.
11
It rang three times.
"Hello." She'd always used to recognize Sarah's calls and answer with, "Hey!" or "Master debater!"
"Hey, Tiff."
"Sarah?" Tiff made a noise - something between a scoff and a chuckle - that said, This ought to be good. "What do you want?" It sounded like she was driving.
"I just... I was going through some of my old debate stuff and I found that Foucault book you loaned me."
"Which one?"
"Uh... Discipline and Punish."
"Ah." The rush of traffic crackled like static through the phone speaker. "Keep it."
Sarah's heart dropped. Her next line - Do you want to come over and pick it up? - withered and died. "Are... are you sure? I know it's got all your notes in it and everything. You've got everything carded out."
"It's not that big a deal. I'm sure Mac will have their own copy. Besides, I still have all the cards from it on my laptop."
"Yeah. Okay." It killed her to hear Tiff talking to her this way. Now you know how she felt, her brain supplied, when you did it to her.
"All right," Tiff said. "Later."
"Hey. Hang on."
In the silence, Sarah heard the baby swing creaking. She drew a shaking breath and dove in.
"I, ah..." I miss you. "I just... I was thinking the other day about how we used to talk. You know, when we'd be up all late and I had to hide the phone when my mom came into the room."
"...yeah?"
"I just... you know. I miss that."
Now, Tiff did scoff. "Yeah? I used to miss that too."
Click.
12
She wasn't sure what she had expected, but at least now she knew. A little part of her had always thought that she could make up with Tiff, but she should've known better.
Tiff was probably the best thing that had ever happened to her. They had kicked ass in debate, but they had also talked every night, even outside of the debate season.
You're glossing over it, Pastor Dennis reminded her. It was more than that. You fell in love with her.
You've liked girls since you were nine, but she was the first one you couldn't hold back from. You did the right thing. You did what Jesus wanted. You had to get away from her.
Sarah's mom had started to suspect something, after all those years of Sarah hiding her sexual deviance as carefully as she could. And her mom couldn't find out. She couldn't.
Sarah had been terrified - not just of her mom finding out, but of what it meant that she couldn't just be friends with Tiff. She'd been friends with other girls she was attracted to, but Tiff was too gorgeous, too smart, too open about who she was. Her family wasn't religious, they didn't think there was anything sinful about being gay, and Tiff had nearly gotten Sarah to admit how she really felt.
Sarah was a Christian. Yes, she'd been fighting this problem since she was young, but she had no intention of giving up that fight. At church the following Sunday, Pastor Dennis had seen the sin in her heart - from the altar, he had seen it. When he called for the sinners to come up and re-commit to Jesus, she had gone - sobbing and hysterical - and come back transformed by the blood of Christ.
Homosexuality was wrong. That was it. Period. She had to get it under control.
So she'd cut Tiff off, started dodging her calls and ignoring her at school. She'd starting hanging out more with Heidi and her little clique.
Worst of all, she'd started dating Cal.
He was brash, loud, and arrogant - all things she hated - but there was a decent person in there somewhere. She'd caught glimpses of him when they worked together on debate stuff, by the way he acted when there was no one around to make him show off.
She wanted God to see she was serious. She wanted to prove to her mother and herself that she would do anything to be free of the devil's influence. And he was convenient; he'd been hitting on her for months. He was too dense to pick up on body language and too full of himself to believe she might not be attracted to him, so she'd thrown herself at him like a child doggedly choking down her vegetables.
She'd done it all without so much as a goodbye to Tiff.
Her former debate partner had too much self-respect to let someone like that back into her life. And really, how pathetic was it that Sarah would try to call her now? Hey, remember those people I started hanging out with when I dumped you? Turns out one of them got me pregnant and my life is ruined, so now I'm really lonely and I miss you.
What an idiot.
13
Sleep was out of the question, so she went into the kitchen with the intent of cleaning a little, but she ended up just sitting at the little dining room table and staring blankly at the wall.
To get her thoughts off of Tiff, she grabbed the old copy of What To Expect, sitting on the counter near the microwave, and opened to her favorite section: "The Second Month." By that time, the text assured her, her baby should be able to smile at her. She tried to imagine it: one simple expression that would upend her entire world. It would be a miracle.
That will never happen, some part of her mind admonished, if she never sees her mother smiling. She resolved to smile at her daughter more, to fake it if she had to.
She stood and pulled open the shades. Sunlight flooded the room, humid and brilliant, chasing away shadows.
I do love her. She grasped on to this idea, as she did every morning. I do. She couldn't help her reactions to things. She couldn't help how hard it was to do this alone. But she was committed. I love her, she told herself again.
Maybe thinking it over and over again would make it true.
Rebecca woke, and Sarah changed her diaper again. They settled back into the rocking chair in front of the TV - both gifts from Sarah's mother. Rebecca's mouth was working, straining toward Sarah's chest like an instinctive larva.
Sarah was supposed to alternate sides during the feeding, and start each feeding with the opposite breast from the one she'd ende
d on. What they hadn't explained was how to remember what side she'd ended on when she was so exhausted she couldn't even remember what day it was.
"Just bring her up. She'll know what to do." The one time her mother had deigned to offer advice. "It's natural, like an instinct. I'm sure it won't be that hard."
Talk about bull.
Since she couldn't remember, she chose the left side because it hurt less. Rebecca bit in with gums like razors, screwing up the latch once again. "Why can't you do this?" she demanded, wincing as she fought to free her tortured nipple. "You're supposed to be the damned expert."
14
She was almost out of toilet paper, toothpaste, and worst of all, coffee. She needed to stock up. If she was honest with herself, the idea of getting out of the apartment - even just to run to the grocery store - was enticing. But nothing was easy anymore. She couldn't just leave; she had to prepare.
The nurses at the hospital and all the books had mentioned that the baby needed "tummy time." Sarah hadn't done this nearly enough - another of her many failures - so while she gathered the supplies for her journey out, she left Rebecca lying face-down on her blanket. The girl was supposed to get ten minutes or so of this each day, so she could practice lifting her head and strengthening her neck. What they'd neglected to mention was how much she would hate it.
As Sarah hunted for the diaper bag her mother had bought, Rebecca made several confused, mewling noises. By the time she found the bag - buried in the back of her bedroom closet and still overflowing with folders and pamphlets from the hospital stay - Rebecca was screeching.
"Okay," Sarah said aloud, trying to focus her thoughts against the deluge of screams. "Diapers. Wipes." Change of clothes, her mother whispered.
She grabbed the items and threw them in the bag as Rebecca's squalling escalated, from the normal nerve-scraping wails to an animal being flayed alive. Sarah clapped her hands over her ears, staring into the diaper bag and trying to think.
What if she pees through? Sometimes, in the mornings, she would do that. It seemed to happen only if Sarah didn't change her diaper religiously at every feeding, though. Probably it would be okay for one trip. What if she poops? Sarah had butt cream, powder, tons of wipes -
Rebecca Page 2