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‘I haven’t asked her yet, because I wanted to talk to you first. Will Kevin be with you?’ The question sounds careful, and that annoys me.
‘Yes,’ I say firmly. ‘He will be.’ He was there for the other three, but that was before he hurt his back. Stacy can watch the girls, and yet… I can’t quite picture Kev there. Will he find it harder to give this baby up if he sees her? Some guilty impulse in me feels like I should do this alone, hand this baby off to Grace and then go home as if nothing has happened. Nothing has changed. My secret sin, my scarlet letter, to bear alone.
But it doesn’t need to be like that. I’ve read the stories on the internet – the parties in the hospital room, popping open the champagne, birth and adoptive parents all celebrating. I’ve read about the birth mother being the godmother, the adoptive parents keeping a blog of photos and updates, family dinners and Christmases because it really does take a village, or at least more than one family. I don’t want all that, I don’t think I could stand it, but why can’t this be just a little easier? Why does it always feel like a fight, even when we’re getting along?
‘Well, in terms of Grace being there,’ Tina says, ‘there’s still time to decide. You can think about it.’
‘Okay,’ I say, and my voice wobbles a little.
‘Heather…’ Tina pauses. ‘If you’re not sure about this…’ She lets it hang there, waiting for me to what? Admit that I’m not? Assure her I am? I stay silent, because I have no idea what to say, what to feel, and I don’t want to start blubbering on the phone. ‘It would be okay,’ she finishes quietly.
I wonder if it’s in her job description, to give me an out, just as Grace did. ‘I’m fine,’ I say. ‘I’m just ready for this to be over. Move on, you know?’
‘Yes,
’ Tina says gently. ‘I know.’
A couple of nights later I wake up in the middle of the night, hot and uncomfortable, the baby kicking at my insides like she’s desperate to leave me. Kevin isn’t lying next to me, and so I slip out of bed, and pad quietly into the living room. He’s not there either, to my surprise. I thought he would have fallen asleep in his chair. I look around our tiny house but I can’t see him anywhere, and then I notice the front door is ajar. My heart lurches and I walk to the door. Kevin is sitting on our front stoop, elbows braced on his knees as he stares into the darkness.
‘Kev,’ I speak softly, not wanting to startle him or wake the girls, ‘what are you doing out here?’ It’s a warm night for early April, but not that warm, and he’s in only a t-shirt and boxers. I shiver, my arms wrapped around me, goosebumps rising.
‘I couldn’t sleep.’
‘Is it your back…?’
‘No.’
The definitive answer pulls me up short. Cautiously, I open the door wider and slip outside. Everything is eerily silent – no cars, no barking dogs, no doors slamming or the tinny sound of our neighbors’ TV on constant ESPN. ‘Why, then?’ I ask.
He shrugs. ‘Don’t know. Just thinking about stuff.’
I ease down next to him, one hand on my ever-growing belly. ‘Stuff?’
‘Remember when Emma was born? You screamed the whole way down the hallway. I’d never heard you so loud.’
I smile at the memory. Emma was born a month early, and she came fast. They were still prepping the room as I pushed her out on the stretcher in the hall, and looked down at her, a red, screaming scrap of a baby.
‘Yes, I remember. I think the other patients thought I was being killed.’
‘I thought you were.’ He lets out a little huff of laughter. ‘It was amazing, though.’ He shakes his head. ‘I was scared shitless. No idea what I was supposed to be doing.’
‘We were little more than kids ourselves.’
‘I know.’ A faint smile curves his mouth as he stares into the night. ‘And then Amy came late, didn’t she?’
‘Two weeks late and thirty-six hours of labor. It didn’t seem fair, after Emma.’
‘Typical Amy, making an entrance.’ We both laugh, the sound soft in the darkness. ‘And little Lucy, right on time,’ Kev continues. ‘I felt like I had some experience, then.’ He pauses, his gaze fixed ahead. ‘What do you think it will be like this time?’
‘I don’t know.’ We are both silent, but it doesn’t feel tense. It rolls out between us, like a stretch of still water. ‘I can’t imagine it,’ I whisper. ‘How it’s all going to happen.’
‘Me neither.’ Kev reaches for my hand and laces his fingers through mine. ‘I don’t know what I’m going to feel, when the time comes,’ he says in a low voice, a confession.
‘I don’t, either.’ A lump is forming in my throat and I have to speak around it. I squeeze his hand, finding strength in his grip. ‘Do you want to be there?’
He glances at me sharply. ‘I’ve always been there.’
‘I know, but…’ The lump is getting bigger. ‘It might be harder, you know…’
