One Pink Line

by Dina Silver

  “Alright,” I said and closed my eyes. “Guess we’ll see you soon then. I’ll try and save some kiwi-shaped stars for you.”

  “Sounds great. I can’t wait to meet Grace and see you. Is there anything I can bring?”

  “No, thank you. I can’t wait to see you either.”

  “Okay, girly, talk to you later. Call me if you feel like chatting about breastfeeding, okay?” he laughed.

  I mustered a smile. “Goodbye.”

  “Bye, Syd.”

  Grace’s new pediatrician entered the room later that afternoon for her first official check-up.

  “Hi, Dr. Weinstein,” I greeted him.

  “Congratulations,” he said routinely, and went straight to the plastic bin she lived in for those first few days in the hospital. “I always tell my new moms not to get used to these house calls,” he joked.

  Dr. Weinstein examined Grace for about fifteen minutes, and then approached my bed. “She looks like a healthy young girl, that one. Any questions?”

  I had about 1,200 questions, but he seemed in a hurry and had his bag zipped and coat buttoned before finishing his sentence.

  I tried to come up with something pertinent to ask, and my mother was looking at me like, ‘make it a good one’, but I wasn’t prepared for him. “Does she need to sleep with her hat on?” I asked.

  He looked at me like I was a complete moron. “What hat?”

  “Her hospital cap.”

  He glanced at my mother, then back at me. “Do you sleep with a hat on?”

  I shook my head, no.

  “Good day ladies,” he said and walked out.

  When my parents drove Grace and I home from the hospital, my dad topped off at about fifteen miles per hour. We’d had the crib and changing table from Taylor’s mom delivered about two weeks prior so everything would be ready for Grace’s homecoming. My mom slept over the first night and after I burst into tears, as she was about to leave the following afternoon, she offered to stay four more nights. Kendra apologized for not being able to stay over, but it was too hard for her with work and I think she was secretly pleased with how well my mother and I were getting along.

  My own motherly instincts definitely began to kick in, but I was still a rookie in every sense of the word and even a little scared of my own daughter. I watched my mother scoop her up and carry her around like a pro, yet every time I went to take Grace from her crib or bouncer, I did so with trepidation.

  “You’ll get the hang of it, don’t worry, she’s not going to break,” my mom would tell me.

  “What if I scrape her face with my fingernail, or dislocate her shoulder by pulling her out too fast?”

  “She’ll be just fine, Sydney, you need to relax so she doesn’t sense your tension,” Mom advised me as if I were training a puppy. “I wish we could get her outside for some fresh air, but it’s so darn cold.”

  “Honestly, I’m fine being holed up here for the next year or so, I don’t want anything to happen to her.”

  When almost a week had passed, my mom packed her bags and headed home with the promise that she would be back to visit in two days. She wanted me to have some alone time with my daughter.

  That, and my dad was having a mental breakdown having to fend for himself.

  Grace and I spent our time napping, cuddling, and napping.

  Two days after my mom’s departure, Ethan called to let me know that he’d be in town over the weekend and he planned on spending as much time with me as possible. Since I’d been in the same outfit for nearly ten days (sweatpants, heather grey t-shirt and no bra) news of his arrival jolted me into the shower and sent me into a mad panic looking for my make-up bag, which I hadn’t seen since before Grace was born.

  “It’s me,” Ethan yelled into the buzzer from the lobby of my building that Friday evening.

  “Second floor, Apartment C,” I shouted back.

  Waiting for him to reach my door seemed like forever. I paced my apartment twice, checked on Grace who was sleeping, poured myself a glass of wine and then finally heard him knocking.

  When I opened the door he was standing there with a giant stuffed puppy, a bouquet of flowers and a box of Double-Stuff Oreos. I threw myself at him, his body still cold from being outside, and held on for dear life. He wrapped his fully occupied hands and arms around me and kissed the top of my head. He smelled like home.

  “Wow, it’s so good to see you!” I pulled back and looked up at him. “Please, come in,” I said and nervously played with my hair.

  Ethan walked around my apartment nodding and smiling. “Nice digs, Syd, not too bad,” he said, then turned to me. “These are for you, and this is for Grace, can I see her?”

  “She’s asleep, but we can sneak in there and take a peek. And please, be as quiet as you’ve ever been in your entire life, trust me, you do not want to know the consequences of waking her before she’s ready.”

  He crossed his heart and zipped his lips.

  We tiptoed into my bedroom and spied on my little, sleeping angel. Her tiny mouth was open, but her eyes were shut and her body tightly swaddled.

  “She’s…”

  “Shhhhhh,” I threatened with my finger, and we gazed in silence for another minute or so before sneaking back to the couch.

  “She’s beautiful, Syd.”

  “You’re obligated to say that, but thank you, I agree entirely,” I said and curled my legs up onto the cushion.

  “So how does it feel?”

  I smiled and pondered his question. “It’s very surreal, just the mere fact that a human being came out of my stomach, let alone that this human being is now entirely dependent on me.” I shook my head in honest disbelief. “I’m head over heels in love with that girl; it’s really amazing,” I said.

  “It is pretty wild, and you seem like a natural. I always thought you’d be a terrific mom.”

  “Thanks,” I felt proud, and then a little sad.

  There was a time when I’d write Sydney Reynolds on a piece of paper, practicing my signature as Ethan’s wife. I assumed we’d have kids one day, maybe two or three, and that we’d have a huge, elaborate wedding beforehand. But I went and changed the course of our future in one fell swoop. One drunken evening filled with passion, carelessness and Jagermeister. Yet, with Grace so sweet and flawless in the next room, it was hard to regret the choices I made that that night, and the consequences that everyone, including myself, were initially so fearful of.

  “It must be weird for you to see me with a baby,” I said to him.

  He nodded. “It’s pretty…surreal, like you said. But I’m very proud of you for doing this on your own, and for making a very brave decision.”

  “I’m not exactly doing it on my own quite yet. In fact, if my parents weren’t supporting me for these first few months, I honestly don’t know what condition I’d be in. It wouldn’t be pretty.”

  “Well, you do have their help, thankfully, and I’m sure Grace would have yours if she needed it. What’s your plan as far as work goes?” he asked me.

  “I have three months off, unpaid, and then I’m going to put her in daycare. I have two places in mind, one is near my apartment and the other one is closer to work.”

  Ethan and I talked for another hour before Grace woke up. He followed me around as I excavated her from the crib, changed her diaper, gave her a bottle, burped her and eventually put her back to rest.

  “Not much of a party girl,” he observed.

  “Nope, things are pretty routine around here. Eat, burp, poop, and sleep. Try to contain your jealousy.”

  “It shouldn’t be too hard.”

  Ethan stayed until she woke again around midnight, and I could barely keep one eye open to continue chatting with him. I was sad to let him go, but I knew he had to leave. We hugged goodbye, and held each other so long by my door that I nearly fell asleep in his arms.

  “Goodnight, Syd.”

  “Goodnight, E, call me tomorrow okay?”

  “You bet
.”

  Ethan spent the rest of his visit to Chicago inserting himself into Grace’s routine, and making sure I was taken care of as well. He brought me food, rented movies, and rubbed my head as I snored away on his lap. He never mentioned Robin, and I never asked about her again. When it came time for him to go back to Boston, I felt like a senior in high school again, watching him pull out of my driveway for the first time.

  “Shhh, don’t cry, Syd, you know I can’t stand when you cry,” he said, standing in my doorway, about to leave.

  “I’m sorry, I’m just so emotional lately,” I said. “There’s this Be Like Mike, commercial with Michael Jordan that I see every night, and all these kids are so happy, and he’s like…Mike, you know and all inspirational, and I burst into tears every time it comes on.”

  Ethan looked at me like I wasn’t making any sense, and laughed.

  “Anyway,” I continued, undeterred. “It’s been great having you around. I wish you could stay,” I said and widened my eyes and mouth in an effort to tame my tears. “And, Ethan,” I shifted gears. “I also want to say, in person, how sorry I am.”

  He just smiled at me, knowing exactly what I was apologizing for.

  I straightened my shoulders and continued. “Despite the beautiful little girl that is sleeping in my room, I want you to know how much I truly regret cheating on you, lying to you, and most of all…taking you for granted. You deserved none of it, and it kills me to think of ever hurting you like that.”

  Ethan nodded, pulled his sleeve over his hand and used it to wipe my face. “It’s okay, Syd, thank you,” he said and kissed the top of my head. “You have a lot going on here, and someone who needs you to be strong for her. I’m a phone call away, and will come back and visit my two favorite gals as soon as I can, okay?”

  “Okay,” I nodded.

  Ethan went back to Boston, and I went back to being Grace’s mother. But the time I’d spent with him that first weekend meant so much to me, because I felt that we’d reconnected. Maybe not on a romantic level, but there was a bond between us that would never go away, and I still loved him. I never stopped loving him, and never stopped hoping that he would fall back in love with me as well.

  Three months and one week after Grace was born, I returned to work. Kendra came with me at seven-thirty in the morning the Monday I dropped Grace off at Happy Faces daycare near my apartment, and we both held onto each other as one of the caretakers walked away with my daughter in her arms. Kendra and I stared through the glass observation window for about twenty minutes drying our eyes and telling each other that she’d be fine.

  I brought three framed pictures with me, and a brag book filled with snapshots of Grace in every possible position, to work that first day back. Midge had actually bought a gift for Grace from everyone in the customer service department, and had it waiting on my desk when I arrived.

  Keri was the first to greet me with a hug. “It’s great to have you back, and you look fantastic. I can’t believe how quickly you’ve lost the weight.”

  “Thanks, I’m feeling much more like myself lately. Minus a social life that is.”

  Keri had tried to visit me during my maternity leave, but something always came up. “Well, I’m glad you’re back. Midge has been pretty much the same, and Trevor has become a huge bore. Was it hard to leave her this morning?” she asked.

  “It was soooo hard,” I told her. “You should have seen my sister and I standing there blubbering like we were sending her off to war.”

  “Awww,” she said and rubbed my back. “Will Panda Express for lunch ease the pain?”

  “I think it might.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

  It only took me three weeks before I was able to drop Grace at Happy Faces without shedding a single tear, and needless to say, Grace was oblivious to any of it. Two days a week, my mom came downtown, picked Grace up early from daycare around three-thirty, and brought her back to my apartment for me. Those were my favorite days, because when I’d get home a little after six o’clock, there’d be dinner on the table, and a happy, fed, changed, sleepy baby in her jammies waiting to greet me. I used to tell my mom that she made the best husband. The other days were draining to say the least:

  5:30am alarm goes off

  5:45am last snooze button alarm goes off

  5:55am shower, assuming baby is still asleep

  6:00am wrap hair in towel, get baby from crib, change diaper, shush screaming, famished baby and race to kitchen

  6:10am pop bottle in microwave for 20 seconds, continue to shush screaming, famished baby

  6:17am begin to burp baby, check clock

  6:18am pat baby’s back furiously, wipe sweat off own brow

  6:20am place baby in bouncy chair, throw clothes on self and attempt to style kinky, half-dried hair

  6:40am turn coffee pot on, shit, meant to do that at 6:10

  6:42am apply make-up, check clock

  6:50am get cup of coffee with cream and Sweet & Low

  6:55am dress baby, and pack her bag for the day…should have been done night before, wipe sweat from under eyes, smear make-up

  7:15am running late, dammit, grab baby bag, work bag, locate my shoes, dump untouched coffee in sink, grab baby and head out the door

  7:30am drop baby at daycare, and run to bustop

  ~

  6:00pm pick up baby from daycare, stop at Subway for dinner

  6:30pm enter apartment, drop everything on the floor, except for baby, run to bathroom and pee while holding baby

  6:45pm pop baby’s bottle in microwave for 20 seconds, and feed baby

  7:00pm burp baby, play with baby

  7:20pm give baby bath, put her in jammies

  7:45pm put baby in crib

  8:00pm take off coat, eat sandwich in front of TV

  12:00am wake-up on couch, turn off TV and crawl in bed

  5:30am alarm goes off again

  By the time Grace was six months old, she actually looked forward to going to Happy Faces. She’d perk up as soon as I’d walk in the door and hand her off to her favorite caretaker, Miss Courtney. Courtney was my age, and had studied child development at DePaul University in the city. She was going for her Master’s degree and hoped to be a child psychologist one day. She loved Grace, or at least she made me feel like she did, and that was all I really cared about.

  “Stop me if I’m prying,” Courtney said to me one evening at pick up. “Are you married?”

  “I’m not,” I shook my head and satisfied her curiosity.

  “I hope you don’t mind me asking, it’s just that you seem about my age, and well, I’m always so interested in the kids’ home situations.”

  She probably knew the answer to her question before she asked me, because all she would’ve had to do was check Grace’s file, but it didn’t bother me. I much preferred it when people would question me directly about my situation, rather than just assume and make judgments without the facts to back them up.

  “I don’t mind at all, I appreciate that you’re interested in her, and me. Her father and I don’t have any contact. He was a friend from college, and, lets just say he chose to look the other way.”

  She tilted her head. “I’m sorry to hear that.”

  “Please don’t be sorry, it’s fine.” I took Grace from her. “She’s as happy as a clam, and has a huge fan club already,” I said and kissed Grace on her puffy, pink cheek.

  “I’m sure she does, she’s such a sweetheart,” Courtney said, and I truly felt her affinity for my daughter.

  “Would you ever like to babysit for her; are you allowed to do that?” I asked.

  “We aren’t allowed to, unfortunately, but my younger sister is a freshman at Northwestern, and she’s always looking to make extra money. She loves kids almost as much as I do. I would be happy to ask her for you,” Courtney offered.

  “My budget is a little tight and I’ve relied solely on my parents to watch her on the very few occasions I’ve had weekend plans, but I
’d love to have a back-up. Please give her my phone number if she’s interested.”

  I really didn’t have the money to be hiring babysitters, but I figured the less I had to rely on my mom, the better, and I had put a couple hundred dollars away for social emergencies.

  “Will do, thanks,” she said, then grabbed a clipboard off the wall and headed back to the office.

  Courtney’s sister, LeAnn, called me the next day and came to meet Grace and I the following weekend. She was as cute and lovable as her sister, and I couldn’t help but feel grateful that there were people like them that existed in the world. LeAnn, too, was studying child development and getting her Bachelor’s in Education so she could teach middle school kids in the Chicago public school system one day. I, on the other hand, spent most of my days trying to sort out the superficial problems of weary hotel guests, like why the curtains in their room don’t close all the way, or why the television rotated more to the left than the right.

  Ethan was coming home on July 30th for his parents’ anniversary, and he’d sent me an invitation to their party. I had Taylor find out if Robin would be there, and she heard from Andrew Harrington that she wasn’t coming in with Ethan to the party.

  “Andrew says they’re not dating anymore,” Taylor informed me one afternoon while I was at work.

  “Is that right?” I said in my most professional tone, doing my best to pretend I wasn’t on a personal call.

  “That’s what he told me. Have you talked to Ethan lately?”

  “I’m so sorry, Miss, we apologize for any inconvenience.”

  “I hate when you’re at work,” she snorted in annoyance. “I guess he found out she cheated on him with an old boyfriend of hers. He heard a message that some guy left on her machine or something,” Taylor told me.

  “I see,” I said and dropped my head down. Poor Ethan. It killed me to be one of two girls that cheated on him.

  I vowed to be at that anniversary party. And if he was truly single again, I was going to sit him down, tell him how I felt, and do everything I could to make him understand how amazing he was.

  My mom was going to be out of town the night of the party, so I asked LeAnn if she could watch Grace for me that evening. Ethan hadn’t been home since his last visit back in early February, but we’d kept in touch. The Reynolds were having one of their elaborate catered events and combining the anniversary celebration with their annual summer block party. I was thrilled that he’d asked me to go and really excited to see him, but at the same time, I was nervous about seeing his mother. Mrs. Reynolds had always intimidated me, and although she’d never been anything but polite on the surface, I couldn’t help feel that she never really cared for me. Ethan told me on more than one occasion that I was being ridiculous, and that she always had nice things to say about me, but sometimes you just know when you’re being judged…and getting a low score.