tradition. I gave Molly her bottle and tickled under her chin. “Let’s go for a ride,” I said.
As we approached the car, I realized with a jolt that Sydney hadn’t given me a car seat. I should really leave Molly at home, I knew that, but it wouldn’t be the same without her. I wanted to look down at her face as we shopped, see her look back up with her questioning blue eyes. So I put the carrier into the backseat and strapped it in as best I could. As I started the engine I glanced into the rearview, saw her sitting there goggle-eyed, amazed. Since Sydney left she hadn’t cried, not once. It must be a sign.
I parked in front of Babies “R” Us. I’d been in the store twice: first with Pamela and then again a day later, to surreptitiously study everything that had entranced me. Lifting a tiny baseball cap and jacket, sneakers that fit in my palm; I’d avoided the eyes of the women who roamed the aisles, but now I smiled at them, comparing their babies to mine. My completely unbiased opinion was that mine was better.
“You’re the Heidi Klum of babies,” I told her. A woman ahead of me turned, smiled hesitantly and I smiled back. “I spend so much time alone with her,” I said, “sometimes I talk just to hear my own voice.”
The woman rolled her eyes. “Been there,” she said, and I felt her words glow like a swig of liquor in my belly.
I came home with four shopping bags, along with a car seat, sling and BabyBjörn. Sydney had given me a couple hundred dollars and at first I’d figured that would be my purchasing limit, but once my cart started to fill I ended up changing my mind. Who knew how long it’d be before Sydney could safely take Molly back? And there were too many pink and white frilly things, too many toys with packaging that stated they’d boost Molly’s intelligence. I’d always hated shopping for myself or for Star, but this was more fun than I ever could’ve imagined, like playing house.
“Come see what I got!” I called.
There was a prolonged silence and then a sigh from upstairs,overemphatic like someone pretending exasperation in a play, before Star started down. I spread my findings out on the coffee table, grinning as she lifted tiny sandal shoes and little pants embroidered with pink flowers. “Oh!” she whispered. “Look at this. Oh look at these!” I’d known the clothes would get her; they’d be irresistible to anybody producing estrogen.
Star lifted a dress, white with red-stitched hearts and a matching headband. She made a little distressed sound, the sound one might make when confronted with too many choices from a dessert plate. “Let’s try this on!”
I grinned and unhooked Molly’s jumper, wormed her arms out from her sleeves. Molly’s eyes rolled to one side as if in scorn, but her body was limp and compliant as a rag doll.
And then, suddenly, Star sucked in her breath. I followed her eyes and stared, feeling like I’d been punched under the ribs. There below Molly’s left shoulder blade, in the spot Star used to call my clipped angel wings, were four round scabs wider than pencil erasers, two of them jagged and white at the edges with dried pus.
“No,” Star whispered. “Oh no. Her father did this?”
I lifted Molly and held her against my chest, staring at Star as I rocked her, rocked us both. I wanted to feel blind with rage, but instead all I felt was terrified. It was true, all the nightmares you had when you were a kid. There were things in the world without a soul, charming monsters who could smile at you with dazzling teeth, as they used them to rip off your head. “See?” I said. “See?” My voice broke. “Who knows what he might’ve done if Sydney left her alone with him again. So what was I supposed to do?”
Star shook her head slowly, then straightened her shoulders. “I guess exactly what we’re doing,” she said.
It was nearly eight before we could even stomach the notion of food. Star made us frozen dinners and we
As we approached the car, I realized with a jolt that Sydney hadn’t given me a car seat. I should really leave Molly at home, I knew that, but it wouldn’t be the same without her. I wanted to look down at her face as we shopped, see her look back up with her questioning blue eyes. So I put the carrier into the backseat and strapped it in as best I could. As I started the engine I glanced into the rearview, saw her sitting there goggle-eyed, amazed. Since Sydney left she hadn’t cried, not once. It must be a sign.
I parked in front of Babies “R” Us. I’d been in the store twice: first with Pamela and then again a day later, to surreptitiously study everything that had entranced me. Lifting a tiny baseball cap and jacket, sneakers that fit in my palm; I’d avoided the eyes of the women who roamed the aisles, but now I smiled at them, comparing their babies to mine. My completely unbiased opinion was that mine was better.
“You’re the Heidi Klum of babies,” I told her. A woman ahead of me turned, smiled hesitantly and I smiled back. “I spend so much time alone with her,” I said, “sometimes I talk just to hear my own voice.”
The woman rolled her eyes. “Been there,” she said, and I felt her words glow like a swig of liquor in my belly.
I came home with four shopping bags, along with a car seat, sling and BabyBjörn. Sydney had given me a couple hundred dollars and at first I’d figured that would be my purchasing limit, but once my cart started to fill I ended up changing my mind. Who knew how long it’d be before Sydney could safely take Molly back? And there were too many pink and white frilly things, too many toys with packaging that stated they’d boost Molly’s intelligence. I’d always hated shopping for myself or for Star, but this was more fun than I ever could’ve imagined, like playing house.
“Come see what I got!” I called.
There was a prolonged silence and then a sigh from upstairs,overemphatic like someone pretending exasperation in a play, before Star started down. I spread my findings out on the coffee table, grinning as she lifted tiny sandal shoes and little pants embroidered with pink flowers. “Oh!” she whispered. “Look at this. Oh look at these!” I’d known the clothes would get her; they’d be irresistible to anybody producing estrogen.
Star lifted a dress, white with red-stitched hearts and a matching headband. She made a little distressed sound, the sound one might make when confronted with too many choices from a dessert plate. “Let’s try this on!”
I grinned and unhooked Molly’s jumper, wormed her arms out from her sleeves. Molly’s eyes rolled to one side as if in scorn, but her body was limp and compliant as a rag doll.
And then, suddenly, Star sucked in her breath. I followed her eyes and stared, feeling like I’d been punched under the ribs. There below Molly’s left shoulder blade, in the spot Star used to call my clipped angel wings, were four round scabs wider than pencil erasers, two of them jagged and white at the edges with dried pus.
“No,” Star whispered. “Oh no. Her father did this?”
I lifted Molly and held her against my chest, staring at Star as I rocked her, rocked us both. I wanted to feel blind with rage, but instead all I felt was terrified. It was true, all the nightmares you had when you were a kid. There were things in the world without a soul, charming monsters who could smile at you with dazzling teeth, as they used them to rip off your head. “See?” I said. “See?” My voice broke. “Who knows what he might’ve done if Sydney left her alone with him again. So what was I supposed to do?”
Star shook her head slowly, then straightened her shoulders. “I guess exactly what we’re doing,” she said.
It was nearly eight before we could even stomach the notion of food. Star made us frozen dinners and we
Similar Books
