I thank Angel’s mom. “Don’t be mad,” she whispers. “I just thought you two would be perfect together.”
Mind your own business, I can almost hear him bark.
“She’s really special,” I say. “Thank you.”
And then I’m gone, out the door.
Later, when I’m aware of myself again, it’s after midnight and I’m parked in front of your house. I’m startled to see you in the window, then a few minutes later at the front door. I pull away slowly, heart thudding—at the sight of you, at the wondering of how I got here, and at what else he might have done tonight. Of what he might do in the future if I can’t get him under control.
TWENTY-NINE
Guilt. Was it meant to be the primary feeling of motherhood, the underpinning of the entire experience? She was pretty sure it wasn’t, that it was just some unique failing on her part. Mitzi was an angel, every mother’s dream babysitter, stout and smiling, obviously gaga over Lily. Lily practically leaped from Rain into her arms. And still Rain was having an out-of-body experience as she went over the schedule she’d meticulously crafted while Mitzi looked on, nodding, with a plump, heavily ringed hand on Rain’s shoulder.
“She’ll probably eat the avocado and the sweet potato. If not, the pumped breast milk” (yes, she did it again, hooked up to that damn machine and milked herself like a cow) “is right here. Just run under warm water to take the chill off. You don’t need to heat it.”
“Yes,” said Mitzi without a trace of impatience. “Absolutely.”
Up in the nursery, she reminded the older woman, who had three children of her own, six grandchildren (two of whom she’d helped raise while her lawyer daughter ran her small downtown firm), and was a retired preschool teacher, that Lily shouldn’t have anything in her crib except the sleep sack and her crinkly book (which Rain had allowed after Lily turned one). Even though the threat of SIDS had long since passed—especially now that Lily could roll, sit up and even pull herself to standing—Rain still strictly adhered to the “back to sleep” rules.
“I think that’s everything,” said Rain with a sigh.
Lily reached for Rain, and she took the baby from Mitzi, balancing her on her hip. “Ma MA.” She nuzzled Lily and considered canceling her afternoon appointments.
“I know,” said Mitzi, one hand on Lily, one hand on Rain. “It’s hard. But remember—while it’s critical to be here as much as you can, it’s also important for our girls to watch us pursue our dreams, to have work that matters to us.”
Another one of those brass rings. Be here all the time. But pursue your career goals, too. Be the best mom but follow your dreams. And also—be hot and sexy, always be totally into getting it on with your husband. Don’t forget to work out, be thin, keep a perfectly organized home and clear that clutter!
“Anyway, dear, didn’t you say you’d only be gone for three hours?”
“Something like that.”
Mitzi looked lovingly at Lily. “I think we’ll manage.”
Sure, separation anxiety didn’t begin in earnest for another few months, but it would have been nice if Lily had at least noticed as Rain walked out the door. Instead, Mitzi had her so entranced with her Duplo blocks on the floor, that after Rain gave her a kiss goodbye, the baby didn’t even look up when Rain slipped out.
In the car, she checked the camera. She half wanted to find Mitzi already lying on the couch, having lit a cigarette and cracked open a beer. Then she could go racing back to save her child, and forget all about her appointment with Greta Miller, bird photographer.
But no, they were still happily playing.
“Mama?” she heard Lily say, her heart lurching.
“Mama will be back soon,” said Mitzi, striking that perfect pitch of sweet and easy. Then, a masterful deflection, “Oh! Look at this red one!”
“Oh!” said Lily, as if it were the most wonderful thing in the world. And, hey, maybe it was. Red Lego Duplo blocks were pretty damn spectacular. It should be her on the floor with Lily. What was she doing? She wasn’t even getting paid yet, no guarantees that the project would even fly with NNR. She was paying someone to watch her baby so that she could do work on spec. Mom of the year.
“Okay,” she said aloud to herself. She shut off the camera app. “Pull it together!”
She forced herself to pull out of the driveway and