Jack is standing by the window. “I’m not sure I should hold her,” he says. “I read all that stuff where you have to support her neck—suppose I don’t and her head flops back?” Jack shudders.
Alan looks at Jack. He pulls the baby closer to his chest. Jack is waiting for his turn.
“Don’t worry,” Laurie is saying to Jack. “People know how to hold babies; it’s automatic.”
Jack shakes his head. He doesn’t believe her.
Why does Alan have to give the baby to Jack? Isn’t she his daughter now? Alan looks down at the baby. Dark eyes and black hair—he has never seen anything so beautiful. Yesterday he was childless. Three hours ago he was childless. And now—he realizes someone will have to teach this baby, this little girl how to ride a bike. Learn to scramble an egg. Drive a car. Go on dates. No, he will never let her go on dates. Unless he comes along as a chaperone.
“Alan?” Laurie says to him. He knows what she’s thinking—she’s going to tell him to give the baby to Jack. But suppose he doesn’t? Suppose he runs out of the hospital room and takes the baby back to his apartment? They’ll live there together, the two of them.
Alan sees Jack watching him. Does Jack know I’m planning an escape? Suppose the baby is more comfortable with Jack than with me? And Laurie will be able to tell and I’ll never be able to hold her again.
He shouldn’t have thoughts like this anymore—worrying about Jack is old Alan behavior. New, improved Alan makes the right choices, even if they aren’t easy. Gallant, not Goofus.
He walks over to Jack and gently lays the baby in his arms. “Be careful,” he says to Jack. “Don’t let her float away.”
Jack cradles the baby; he wants to make sure she’s safe, but he doesn’t want to crush her either. Her head seems safe though, not at all floppy. Whew. He breathes out, then in again. He has a baby in his arms. She’s making soft sounds, coo coo.
“Coo coo,” Jack says back to her.
“She likes you,” Laurie says.
“She’s just waiting to throw up on me,” Jack says. He cradles the baby in one arm. Takes his finger and touches her nose. “She’s like a miniature person,” he says softly.
No one notices when Alan slips out of the room.
***
The next day, the room is filled with flowers and balloons; Palmer-Boone has sent a fruit basket and bottles of Choc-O. Sir Prance-a-lot sits on the table by Laurie’s bed. Jack’s parents are here with Jack. Laurie is wearing her new cross necklace and fielding phone calls from various parents and friends. Grace has called twice, texted at least a dozen times, and sent email pictures of Grace, Hal, and Emilie holding up a handwritten sign that says, “Welcome to the world!” Laurie’s mother wants more photos of the baby—what about Skype? “Maybe later,” Laurie says. “What’s the use of technology if you don’t embrace it?” Laurie’s mother asks her.
Jack’s mother produces a plastic bag and begins to pull out cardboard cartons. “I saw what they wanted to give you for lunch,” she says to Laurie, “and I thought I could do better.”
“I don’t know if I should have Indian food,” Laurie tells her.
“Indian? It’s Thai. Your husband said it was your favorite.”
“Thank you,” Laurie says. “Where’s Alan?”
“We were talking about baseball,” Jack’s father says. “He’s a big Dodgers fan.” Jack’s father shakes his head and makes a face.
“Rakesh, go find Laurie’s husband,” Jack’s mother says. “He should eat too.” Jack’s father goes out, and Jack’s mother smiles at Laurie. Laurie is suddenly self-conscious about breast-feeding—is she doing something wrong?
“The baby has a good appetite.” Jack’s mother sits on the bed beside Laurie. “Jack and his sister did too. Jack more than Subhra. I was afraid he was going to weigh forty pounds at six months.” Jack’s mother grins at Jack and Laurie sees Jack’s face—the guileless smile, perfect teeth. Jack blushes and looks down at his feet. “Don’t be embarrassed. Breast-feeding is natural, isn’t that right, Laurie?”
“Yes, Mrs. Mulani.”
“Anjali.”
The food smells good, pra ram and chicken satay, tom yum soup. Jack’s mother nods at Jack. “Where’s your girlfriend? You should see if she’s hungry.” Jack explains Megan had to leave because she has an audition for Julius Caesar and she’s told him the girl parts suck and she really wants to be Cassius—“I could have a lean and hungry look,” she said to Jack.
Jack’s mother turns to Laurie. “It’s nice your first is a girl. They’re easier. They listen more. But boys—they’re more unpredictable. Which isn’t a bad thing. Most of the time.” She laughs a pretty, musical laugh. “We are so proud of Subhra, and we love her very much. And Jack too, of course.” Jack’s mother smiles at Jack again. “What Jack does is always so…his journey will never be a dull one.”
Jack’s mother walks over to Jack and hugs him again—his ribs seem intact, and he’s not exactly sure what all the hugging is about, but he’ll roll with it. His mother whispers in his ear, “You’re still going to graduate, aren’t you?”
***
Alan is in the hallway; his parents called and he couldn’t hear them over the noise in the room. They asked about the baby, how much she weighs, how could he forget how long she is, didn’t he write it down? And what does she look like? Take a photo and send it right away. We need to see her. “I will,” he promises and clicks off, thinking it might be better if he talks to them again before he sends the photo so his parents will have some advance knowledge about why the baby doesn’t look exactly (or remotely) like him. He’s using Laurie’s cell and notices she’s already taken pictures of the baby. He could send his parents one of these. He scrolls through her photos, back through weeks and weeks, then months and months. The story of two years of their lives, going backward.
For the first photo, Laurie held the phone out, so they’d both be in the shot. They’re standing in front of their house, their arms around each other. Except Alan has a piece of ice in his hand, and he’s waiting to drop it down the back of Laurie’s shirt.
Two years ago. We were younger, thinner. Life was a glass half full. He remembers standing at the top of a waterfall in Costa Rica, telling Laurie it was time to start a new adventure. And now…here it is.
Jack’s father appears. “My wife sent me to find you. She brought lunch,” he says.
“I was on the phone with my parents,” Alan says. He’s not sure what else to say. What is his relationship with this man—have they become some oddball version of in-laws?
“Your daughter is beautiful. A nice disposition, you can already tell.”
“That’s good.” Alan nods at Jack’s father.
“This is certainly a big surprise. For all of us.”
“No kidding.” The understatement of the century.
Jack’s father shrugs. “But—that’s life. You never know what you’re going to get. Or what will happen. My daughter, a doctor. My son, a father. None of us, we never know. What can you do?”
What can you do?
“I don’t have any idea what to do. I’m lost,” Alan says.
Jack’s father points down the hallway. “Your daughter. She’s waiting for you.”
***
The nurse tells them there are too many people in the room and they shouldn’t be eating Thai food, but Jack’s mother bribes her with coconut ice cream and the nurse says she has some work to do, and when she comes back in ten minutes, wink wink, she hopes Laurie will be resting. Alan is sitting at the foot of the bed eating Thai food and looking at the baby in Laurie’s arms.
Jack’s mother collects empty plates and cartons and nods at her husband. “We should leave the parents alone,” she says. “If you need anything, Laurie, let us know. We’ll be at our hotel.”
Laurie nods. Jack’s mother and father
start out, but Jack lingers in the doorway. He’s watching the baby.
“Jack. Your final,” Laurie says. “Kick ass.”
“I will.” He still doesn’t move—a last look at the baby, at Laurie. “If the baby gets fussy, you could sing that song to her,” he says. “You know, the ‘World on a String’ one.”
“That’s a great idea. Thank you,” Laurie says to him. “For everything.”
***
The nurses have taken the baby away and Laurie sips a Choc-O. “You disappeared,” she says to Alan.
He nods at her.
“Were you planning on coming back?” she asks him.
“Did you want me to come back?”
Laurie doesn’t answer him. She looks around the room instead. “It already feels empty. Without her in here.” She turns to Alan. “She needs to grow up with a father. With you.”
“Those aren’t necessarily the same things.”
“Of course they are. But you have to think they are.”
Alan looks over at the empty crib. “My apartment is nice.”
“Did you get the one with the haunted dishwasher?”
“They fixed it—or maybe they did an exorcism.”
They look at each other for a long time. “Now what?” Alan says.
Laurie shrugs. “It’s not just about us anymore. Us used to be only you and me.”
“Us got bigger.” Alan smiles at Laurie. “You look pretty good for somebody who just popped out a baby.”
“‘Popped out a baby’ isn’t remotely close to the reality of labor and delivery. Trust me.”
“I do,” Alan says, and he kisses her, not on the cheek, but on the lips. His breath is lemony from the tom yum soup.
She pulls him into the bed with her.
“I bet this isn’t allowed,” he says.
“What are they going to do?”
“You’ve never heard of hospital jail?” Alan says, and she laughs.
“I missed your jokes,” she tells him.
“My jokes? You must have a fever.”
“I’m serious. I missed them. And your dirty socks.” She hesitates. “I can’t do this by myself,” she tells him. “Raise a baby.”
“Sure you can. You’re invincible. One of the strongest, most capable people I know.”
“No. I need you. She does too.”
Alan is silent.
“By the way, she could also use a name,” Laurie says.
“I thought we decided. Jessica Alba Gaines. Works for me.”
Laurie shakes her head, leans against Alan. He feels warm and solid and familiar. He feels right. “When can we take her home?” she asks him.
***
Eight-week-old Lee Asha Gaines rests against Laurie’s shoulder. The yellow room, now officially the baby’s room, is crowded with toys and stuffed animals and baby bathtubs and a bunch of things Jack can’t even identify. On a shelf are various stuffed Indian dolls he doesn’t remember seeing before.
“They’re from my friend Grace,” Laurie tells him. “You haven’t met her yet, but you will. She’s dying to meet you. And furious with me because I didn’t tell her what was going on. Aren’t they beautiful?” Laurie looks at the dolls. “Grace found them at an antique store in Canoga Park. I like the one with the woman holding a sitar.”
“I think it’s a sarod, not a sitar,” Jack says. He’s watching Laurie rock the baby in the glider.
“What am I going to do with you, missy?” Laurie brushes her lips against the top of baby Lee’s head and takes a deep breath. Why does a baby’s head smell like heaven? “It’s time for your nap.”
“She doesn’t want to miss anything,” Jack says.
“But I’ve run out of verses of ‘He’s Got the Whole World in His Hands.’ I suppose I could make up my own.” Laurie begins to sing. “He’s got Elmo and diaper rash, in his hands. He’s got Big Bird and A&D Ointment, in his hands.”
Jack starts to laugh and the baby turns at the sound.
“Great, now she’ll never go to sleep. You’re distracting her.” Laurie sings again, “He’s got Beyoncé and poopy diapers, in his hands…”
“What’s with the ‘he’ business? Shouldn’t you sing ‘she’ sometimes?”
“Oh no. Your religious studies minor is rearing its ugly head.”
Laurie and Alan have invited Jack and Megan over for dinner. Alan and Megan are in the kitchen cooking—occasionally Laurie hears the sound of a dropped pan then laughter. “Megan’s not the greatest cook,” Jack has warned Laurie. “She tries though. So cut her some slack.”
That sounds ominous, but Laurie nods. “I’m just happy you’re both here.” After his graduation, Jack and Megan moved into an apartment together. Jack is working as a waiter at an Umami Burger in Santa Monica and taking a GRE prep class. He’s still undecided about what he’ll do in graduate school. Religious studies might not be the best idea. Maybe psychology. Megan is auditioning for plays and commercials and trying out to be a game-show contestant so she can win a new car or a Vespa. No luck yet.
“My mother sent you a present,” Jack says as he hands Laurie a small package. “You wanted to know if she sang to me when I was little, so I asked her and she got you this.”
Laurie opens the package to find a CD of Indian lullabies. “Wow. I don’t know anything about Indian lullabies.”
“In India, a lullaby is called a lori. Isn’t that weird? Lori. Like Laurie?” Jack nods at Laurie. Get it?
Laurie waves the CD. “Maybe if we pop this in the CD player, she’ll fall asleep. You think?”
“Can’t hurt to try.” Jack puts the CD into the CD player on the top of the changing table. The music begins—a woman sings; her voice is high and silvery and beautiful.
“What a gorgeous voice. But I wish I could understand what she’s saying.” Laurie strokes Lee’s dark hair, so much hair for a baby. And it’s already curly—no need to dress her in pink to prove she’s a girl.
“My mother said there are lots of lullabies about the moon.” Jack looks at the liner notes and reads. “So Ja Chanda. So ja chanda raja so ja, chal sapnon mein chal.” He reads the translation: “Sleep, my lovely moonchild; sleep, my prince. Come to the world of dreams, come.”
“That’s pretty,” Laurie says. “Although Lee’s a princess, not a prince.”
“You should learn the song.”
Laurie laughs. “Me? I think that’s impossible. “
“I bet my mother would help you. Hey, look, she likes it.” Jack might be right—baby Lee turns her head to the music as if she’s listening.
***
Dinner is not the disaster Jack has predicted. Megan has made her Famous Mystery Meatballs and Spaghetti.
“What’s the mystery?” Laurie asks her.
“If I told you, it wouldn’t be a mystery anymore,” Megan says.
Laurie turns to Alan. Does he know the secret?
He shrugs. “I just did the salad.” He looks over to Lee in the baby swing. Jack and Megan have each tried to make her sleep with zero success. The swing runs on batteries, so it moves back and forth by itself. Lee looks like she’d be happy swinging until the batteries wear out.
“I think she’s excited because she has company for dinner,” Megan says. “She’s pretty incredible.”
“Not so much at three in the morning,” Alan says. And he winks at Laurie.
“We’re taking turns with the feedings,” Laurie explains to Megan and Jack. “Alan’s a whiz at warming up breast milk.”
“Less of a whiz at getting up in the middle of the night. But you adapt.” He watches baby Lee.
Laurie takes a bite of the meatball and to her surprise, it’s good. Although there’s something sweet she can’t identify. “I can taste turkey, Megan. And parsley. Onion, maybe a little garlic and oregano.”
“Yep.” Megan glances over at the baby. “It’s crazy how big she is already. And I love her name. The Lee came from you, right, Alan?”
“Alan Lee Gaines,” Alan says. “My mother says Lee has been in our family for years. And she insists we might be related to Robert E. Lee.” His mother, when he finally told her the truth, was thrilled and couldn’t wait to visit California and see the baby. But she also wanted to meet Jack and learn more about his roots. Just what the family tree needed—not only Abraham Lincoln, but a connection to India.
“Where’d Asha come from? Was that your idea, Jack?” Megan asks.
Jack shakes his head. “Not me.”
“Alan got a baby book,” Laurie explains. “He thought it would be nice for the baby’s middle name to be Indian.”
“So why’d you pick Asha?”
Alan looks at Laurie. He doesn’t say anything right away. “Because it means hope.”
***
When Jack and Megan are leaving, Laurie, with the baby in her arms, whispers to Jack. “What’s the mystery ingredient in the meatballs?” Jack makes sure Megan can’t hear and whispers quickly to Laurie. “Crushed up Skittles.” Laurie makes a face. “I know,” Jack says, misinterpreting Laurie’s expression. “Isn’t that genius?” He leans over to give baby Lee a kiss on the cheek. “See you soon, peanut,” he says, and he runs after Megan. Baby Lee watches him go.
Laurie closes the front door and looks at Alan, at the baby. “Suppose she decides to never go to sleep again?”
“I think the chances of that are about a zillion to one. Do you want me to start on dishes?” Alan asks.
“Let’s wait. I can do them in the morning.”
“Want me to give the sleep thing a try?” Alan holds out his arms for the baby. “Would you like to dance?” he says to baby Lee. The music is still playing from dinner—Laurie picked Frank Sinatra and Jack groaned until Megan shoved him and said Frank Sinatra was an icon and he should appreciate that.
“You won’t sleep for your mother, but you’ll be good for your old man, won’t you?”
“I don’t know if dancing with her will put her to sleep,” Laurie says.
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