Maybe Baby

by Tenaya Darlington

  But now Klaus and Sunny offered a clever plan. Would it be so bad if they knew, just for practical purposes? She could still play along with Gretchen and Ray. She would just have to be very careful in front of Gretchen not to let the actual pronoun slip. But she could hold her tongue easily enough. Rusty couldn’t be trusted, that much she knew, but Judy felt she could incubate this secret for however long it was required of her, and she felt that just knowing, just being sure, would ease all her apprehension.

  “That would be such a breach of confidence,” she said slowly to Sunny. “I mean, I am dying to find out, but . . .” She tried to sound casual in case this was a trap.

  “I already have my suspicions,” Sunny said, crossing her freckled arms and scratching at a nonexistent fleck on the front of her dress. Then she turned and put one coffee-colored nail to her temple. She said, “I’ve been known to be psychic.”

  Judy licked her lips, newly aware that she’d forgotten to put on lipstick. “So I guess you’ve known all along, then. Why bother with the doctor?”

  “Well, psychics can be wrong,” Sunny said, her tone belying a hint of sarcasm.

  Judy lowered her chin to her chest and looked straight ahead. Out of the corner of her mouth, she whispered, “So, which is it?”

  “It’s best if I don’t say.” Sunny shook her head. “Not until Klaus confirms.”

  Judy examined her hands, feigning interest in a cuticle. “Whatever you think,” she said under her breath. “But we’ve got a long night ahead of us.”

  “I really shouldn’t.” Sunny gave Judy a pained look, then reached over to pat her hand. “Don’t take it personal.”

  Judy gripped at the armrests and gave a few slow nods. The blood was rushing at her temples. A hot flash was coming on. She said, “I think I’ll change out of this dress.”

  “I’ll go get us some coffee.” Sunny launched herself forward from the chair. “Cream or sugar?”

  “Just black,” Judy said.

  Judy gathered up her purse and tote bag and started down the hall. The bathroom was a sickening pink, the tiles old and grimy along the cracks. There was something about a hospital bathroom that kept her from having much confidence in all the hoopla about new medical discoveries. Screw the discoveries—didn’t anyone who worked in health care know how to keep a bathroom?

  She soaped her hands and avoided herself in the mirror. She had enough to think about. When her fingers touched the unmistakable round sheath of plastic she knew to be a tube of lipstick in the bottom of her purse, she took off the lid, scrolled up the nub, and applied color, eyes closed. Since the incident at school with the mustache, she had sworn off her reflection.

  When she had changed out of her muumuu, Judy switched off the light and stood for a moment in the dark bathroom, glad for a moment to collect herself. Rusty had taken off, as was to be expected. And Sunny had proven to be more perplexing by the minute. Judy breathed deeply and tried not to imagine anything beyond the bathroom, not the next hour, not the next day or week. She was here, where she wanted to be.

  A tentative voice from behind stopped Judy in the hall on her way back to the waiting room. “Mrs. Glide? I thought I might find you here.” It was Hael. She had on black sweatpants and flip-flops. “I came as fast as I could. Have you heard how things are going?”

  “No, no one’s been allowed in the delivery room.” Judy heard her words come out with a harsh ring she hadn’t intended; something about seeing Hael made the hairs on her neck bristle.

  “Still, it’s nice to be here, I’m sure.” Hael rested a cool hand on Judy’s arm. “I’m really impressed that you and Gretchen were able to work out an arrangement. No one else where we live really has.”

  Judy flashed her a brief, faint smile. “And where are you headed? To the delivery room?” She tipped her head to the side and watched Hael twist a commemorative Star Trek key ring around a middle finger.

  “I don’t even want to go near the delivery room,” Hael said, giggling. “Believe me, I spent plenty of time there. Actually, I came to check on you.”

  Judy wasn’t sure whether she should feel grateful or offended. She stepped back, frowning.

  “It’s okay to feel uneasy.” Hael swept a loose strand of hair behind her ear. “It’s a really exciting time, and I’m sure you’re going to feel the same curiosity all of us do and the same pressure to explain why we do what we do. But, Mrs. Glide”—Hael paused to press her lips together and look into Judy’s eyes—“once you get used to seeing that baby without any sense of its sex, you’re going to be surprised. You’re going to realize that it doesn’t matter, and that it’s actually easier to express your true feelings without all that baggage, all those expectations.”

  Hael sighed and pressed her palms to her cheeks as if she could feel herself flushing. She was starting to get a little choked up. “I mean, have you ever tried that? Loving something for what it is, without judgment?” She stepped back, moved her fingertips to her lips, and whispered almost inaudibly, “It’s awesome.”

  Judy licked her lips and blinked quickly. She had her tote in one hand, her purse in the other, and when Hael sprang forward and gave her a hug, Judy only lifted her arms awkwardly, afraid to let both bags go clattering to the ground.

  “I’m sorry. I’m a bit of a mess,” Hael said into Judy’s ear. “I just got in touch with my parents. I haven’t seen them in five years.” She stepped back, sniffling, her dark hair shiny under the hall lights, her face washed out and blotchy. Then she asked, “Do you know how to get chocolate out of wool carpet? I’ve been on a ridiculous cleaning spree.”

  “Now there I can help you,” Judy said, brightening. She motioned Hael into the waiting room. “Did you know I taught home ec for thirteen years?”

  “Well, well, who is this?” Sunny appeared with two coffee mugs and set them down on the waiting room coffee table. “Hold on, I’m nuking a Danish.”

  When Sunny returned for a second time, Judy attempted an introduction. “This is Hael,” she said. “Ray and Gretchen’s upstairs neighbor.”

  “Oh, sure, you’re one of them.” Sunny’s voice was clipped. She took her seat without giving Hael another look and busied herself with some napkins.

  Hael just smiled. “It’s nice of you to camp out,” she said warmly, still standing. From the corner came a low snore from Klaus. “I’m sure your presence means a lot to Gretchen and Ray,” she continued, nodding at Sunny.

  “I’m here for my son,” Sunny flared up. “And for Gretchen. But I’m not sure I like what the rest of you are all about.”

  “And what are we about?” Hael asked, quietly, calmly, firmly.

  “I’ve followed gurus, been a part of what some people would call cults. I see what’s going on here.” Sunny raised her coffee mug to her lips, her eyes set on Hael across the rim.

  “There’s no reason to get upset,” Hael said. “You can ask me anything.”

  Sunny blew at her coffee and blinked furiously. She took a sip, then set her mug clumsily down on the table. Judy leaned forward to wipe up the spill.

  “You’re raising hermaphrodites,” Sunny hissed. “That’s why you’re so secret about what the sex is. You’re trying to start a new race.”

  “What?!” Judy cried.

  “Oh, please.” Hael put a hand on her hip, her car keys dangling from a single finger. “This isn’t worth discussing.”

  “What’s happening?” Klaus sat up in a daze from his makeshift bed in the corner. “Who’s here?”

  A nurse ducked in. “Shhh,” she said. “This is a quiet floor after nine PM.”

  “It’s true,” Sunny spat. “I’ve read your books. Why don’t you come clean?”

  “What’s the time?” asked Klaus. “Is the baby here?”

  “I mean it,” the nurse ducked in again. “You’ll be asked to leave if I have to say another word.”

  Hael was already out the door, her flip-flops resounding softly all the way down the birthing wing.

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nbsp; Sunny was flustered. She grabbed her purse. “I need a Xanax,” she said. “I don’t know how else I’ll get through this.” She pawed at the contents of her big gold purse, then bustled over to the muted TV for some extra light.

  Judy sat dumbfounded, mopping around the coffee cups though there were no more spills. What, she wondered, was a hermaphrodite?

  “Oh my God!” Sunny shrilled. She turned to Judy in horror. “I gave your husband the wrong bottle! I gave him my Xanax instead of the vitamins.”

  Judy felt the blood go from her face. “What should I do?”

  “He shouldn’t be driving.” Sunny waved her arms emphatically. “He shouldn’t be going anywhere.”

  “Oh my God,” Judy stood up. “He’s a terrible driver as it is. He can hardly see.”

  She stood up, fumbled for her keys, and started down the hall. “Help,” she called meekly, to no one in particular. A custodian pushed a mop and bucket at the end of the hallway. A cry rang out from behind closed doors, the unmistakable sound of something just born. Judy didn’t have time to check if it was coming from room 1224.

  It was two hours back to Fort Cloud. All along the highway, Judy kept her gaze darting between the shoulders. She looked in vain for Rusty’s car, trying to remember the car’s make, hoping he would have pulled over. It was red, that was all she knew—a Pontiac? A Chevrolet? For a car salesman’s wife, she knew surprisingly little about automobiles, all those years of tuning it out.

  And now he was out there somewhere, on the road or swerving off it, and she couldn’t even phone the police to tell them whether he was in a Camero or a Chevelle. He hadn’t looked well lately. She shouldn’t have let him go. She should have insisted on driving down together, but they had spoken so seldom in the last several weeks. After Henry had come and gone, after she’d locked the door to the garage, Rusty had stayed out there every night, sleeping in the car, carrying half his clothes in the trunk, eating who knows what.

  Now she scanned the shoulder for some sight of him. How cruel she had been. It would do her right if she found him by the side of the road bleeding from his nose and mouth. Maybe she deserved to live alone. The thought frightened her. She had never seriously considered what it would be like to live by herself, the house quiet except for her footsteps, the basement freezer devoid of snow, the sun rising and setting over Rusty’s brown recliner, motionless. Granted, they slept in separate rooms, ate their meals alone, but at least they checked in on each other.

  Even if he had taken to the garage, at least he was out there. He hadn’t up and gone. She’d give him that. Had she ever loved him? Yes, she thought she had. He wasn’t perfect, but she hadn’t expected him to be. She just never imagined that being married could be so lonely. She’d expected it to change once children came, but it hadn’t. It hadn’t changed much at all. And with the kids grown, she’d gone on being lonely, feeling it stretch far beyond her, feeling its endlessness unravel as the house became quieter, one child then another abruptly gone. Who was there to confide in? Who was there to pull her through? Certainly not Rusty: she’d done it all alone—grieved alone, lived alone, loneliness dangling from everything around her.

  But there were moments, specks, really, when he surprised her with something tender and unlikely. The shoes she was wearing, for example. Her favorite mauve pumps. He knew she liked good shoes. He knew she liked Italian leather. He’d brought her these once, and every time she put them on—whether just around the house or for a special occasion—she remembered that night, how pleased he’d been with himself as he came through the door with the box. It hadn’t been wrapped—she wouldn’t have expected him to do that. But he’d picked them out for her, and they were even the right size.

  She thought back to the night before, Rusty sitting there patiently with her in the car, wading through radio songs for some sound of Henry, neither of them saying a word when it finally came on, the deejay sending out a dedication from someone named Tiffany to someone named Brad. “Floating World,” the song was called, and through the whine of guitars Judy had made out Henry’s purring vocals, low and gravelly. An egg in each hand, she’d listened quietly, trying to understand the words, bracing herself against the seat during the drum solo. Rusty hadn’t stirred, was maybe asleep, or perhaps, Judy wanted to believe, he was just listening deeply.

  Now, for the first time in years, Judy physically crossed her fingers as she kept her hands positioned at ten and two on the wheel, just as Rusty had instructed her back when he’d taught her how to drive. She slowed for the false carcass of a jeep hunkered in the ditch, her eyes wide, scoping, sleuthing. When flashing lights appeared in her rearview mirror and passed her, she accelerated, her whole body shaking.

  Picture a cool river, she told herself, a rushing stream of calm. Her geographical relaxation techniques did no good. She rolled down the windows and cranked up the air, and for the first time she didn’t even care that the wind was blowing her hair to hell.

  “Rusty,” she called, just to hear his name go out the window. “Rusty, are you out there?” She passed a raccoon slumped along the shoulder. Rusty would be dead and she would be holding—what had Sunny called it? A hermaphrodite?

  Up ahead there was a slow-moving vehicle with Wisconsin plates. Without thinking, Judy flashed her brights and then pulled up alongside, only to meet the eyes of a kid—probably not old enough to drive—who at first looked stricken, then stuck his tongue out, wagging a silver piercing.

  Was it one of the kids she’d had on that horrible day in health class? she wondered, revving past. She’d never gone back. As usual, a sub was hired to teach in place of Bruce and Bud Luger while they camped in the Grand Tetons with their kids. Judy had turned in her resignation and spent her days at the shooting range instead. And she’d done something else: She started going through the rooms in the basement and slowly throwing things out. Packing up Gretchen’s old pink comforter, stacking her old Barbies in a brown bag for Goodwill, putting twist ties around sacks full of Carson’s last latch-hook rugs. How long did she need to keep those things around?

  An ambulance flew past, lights sweeping across the road like the gaze of Cyclops’s eye. She was just miles from home now, and still no Rusty. She imagined his body being wheeled into the hospital and pronounced dead at the same moment that Gretchen’s baby was declared alive. A lump rose in Judy’s throat.

  The ambulance veered off at an exit to another town, a different tragedy. What were the chances he’d make it home? What were the chances that she’d find him asleep in the garage or maybe back in his old bed, their old bed? There was a rest stop ahead. She swung into it and circled the lot. There were a few abandoned cars, none of them red, all of them seemingly empty.

  At the far end, she spotted a pay phone under a light and pulled over to it, craning out the window to dial her home number. She let it ring, then called back again and held the phone to her ear for a very long time, imagining that he would be just walking through the door and reaching for the phone as she hung up.

  She rolled up the window, put the car in park, and let it idle for a moment while she thought. Should she go all the way home if he wasn’t even there? By now, perhaps the baby had arrived—maybe that had even been the cry she’d heard in the hall as she ran out.

  “Hey,” she called to a young man coming out of the rest-stop bathroom and crossing to his car. “What’s a hermaphrodite?”

  The man stopped, fixed his eyes on her through the dark, and said, “Fuck off.”

  Judy sat awhile longer, then reached down, lifted her right foot off the brake, and took off her shoe—her mauve heel. Once new, it was now creased and in need of a good polish. She studied it without expression, remembering the first time she had tried it on and danced around the living room. Then she lifted up the insert. On the back of it, written neatly in black marker oh so long ago, was a phone number.

  She rolled down her window again and pressed the buttons solemnly. The phone rang three times, then came the answer
ing machine. A voice she did not recognize spoke the words: Please leave a message, we’ll call you back.

  Before she spoke, she’d already begun to cry. It was the first time she had cried in so long, and there was so much to cry for that she just let it all out, knowing no one was there on the other end except for a machine. “Carson,” she finally managed to say, her voice cracking. “I think Rusty’s dead, and your sister is having a hermaphrodite.”

  Just as she was about to hang up, there was a click on the end of the line and someone said her name. “Mrs. Glide, hello, Mrs. Glide? Are you still there?”

  Judy stared at the phone for a moment before putting it to her ear again.

  “It’s Ben,” the voice said. “Carson’s already left for the hospital. He should be there within the hour.”

  “Oh,” Judy felt confusion, a rush of blood to her head. It was 3:00 AM by the dull glow of the clock on the dash. “Who is this?” Her head felt light. She cradled her shoe.

  “It’s Ben—Carson’s partner. I thought . . .” His voice trailed off.

  “Right,” Judy said. “I think he mentioned you once in a letter. It’s been so long now. I’m afraid my mind’s reeling.”

  “Sure,” Ben said. “It’s okay. It’s been a crazy night here, too.”

  “How did you know? Did Gretchen call?”

  “No,” Ben said. “Rusty did. About an hour ago.”

  Judy scratched her forehead. “Who? Who did you say called? Do you mean Ray?”

  “No,” said Ben. “Believe it or not, it was Rusty.”

  “Then you’re sure?” Judy asked.

  “Yes. I’m quite sure.”

  “Very well. Sorry to bother you, then.” Judy’s voice was barely above a whisper.

  “No bother, Mrs. Glide. No bother.”

  Judy hung up the phone. She put her shoe back on, flipped on the radio, and made up her mind to stop at the first sign she saw for a restaurant where there might be coffee. It was going to take all her energy to make it back to the hospital without falling asleep on the way there. She could not go home, not now, not after all she had been through. Besides, she had promised Gretchen that all would remain calm and cool, and she aimed to see that promise through.