that particular freezing rest room had a foldout tray to do the job on - but then I found I had to use the facilities myself quite urgently, and I had nowhere to put him and no time to carry him out to Martin. I don't think I've done anything as complicated in my life as try to pull down my slacks and underwear in a cubicle the size of a phone booth, while holding a baby, a bulky diaper bag, and a purse, and wearing a coat.
It was humiliating. And though it probably would've made America's Funniest Home Videos, at the time it wasn't at all amusing to me. As a matter of fact, as I began wearily to reverse the process, I decided I'd never think it was funny. And I knew for a fact that Martin would never get over being called "Grandpa" by one well-meaning cashier. It was lucky for Rory that Martin hadn't noticed his suppressed smile, and lucky for me that my own face was too tired to form the grin I felt rising to my lips.
Most of our conversation on this trip consisted of Martin trying to get Rory to give us more specifics about Craig and the baby, Regina and the baby, the baby's birth, why Regina had driven down to Lawrenceton without Craig. "Oh, well, she didn't expect us to get out of jail when we did," Rory explained, when he saw he couldn't get away with waffling anymore. "I expect she just wanted to show off the baby to you, since her mom is out of the country." "Does my sister know she's a grandmother?"
"Huh?"
"Does Regina's mother know Regina has had a baby?"
"Well, not to say so. Not really."
Rory was sitting in front with Martin now, and I was buckled in the back with Hayden, whom I was amusing by dangling a toy for him to focus on. I considered flattening the receiving blanket that lay in my lap, twirling the ends until it formed a long rope, then looping it around Rory's narrow neck. He'd spit out the truth then! I told myself truculently, realizing I was somewhere beyond tired. "Is this baby really Regina's?" I asked sharply. "Or did she steal Hayden from someone?"
Martin closed his eyes briefly, then refocused on the road. "Of course this baby is Regina's!" our companion said, as indignant as he could manage to be.
"How do you know?"
"Craig drove her to the midwife's!"
"And you watched the baby being born?"
"Hell, no!"
"But you were at the midwife's?"
"Well..." Rory seemed to be thinking deeply, and that seemed to be difficult for him. "Not exactly, not me. So much as Craig. I think I was in jail." I looped the ends of the receiving blanket around each hand so I'd have a good grip, just waiting for a nod from Martin to choke this goofball. Martin glanced back to see what I was doing, then looked forward hastily, his face convulsing with suppressed laughter.
"Say the word," I told him.
"Rory," Martin tried again. "Which one of you took Regina to the midwife's office?"
"Maybe I went part of the way," Rory improvised. "They dropped me off at the house on their way."
"And this baby, Hayden, the one in the backseat, is the child of Regina and Craig?"
"Gosh, I don't know. They all look alike, don't they?" Martin turned a little and directed his next words at me. "You know, I'm actually tempted," he said. "Keep it handy."
Like most horrible things - roller coaster rides, committee meetings, vaginal exams - the trip eventually came to an end. After thirteen hours on the road (during two and a half of which Hayden screamed) we got to Corinth. By that time I didn't like anyone in the Mercedes, myself included. Rory directed Martin to his family's home, in a section of Corinth as derelict as any I'd seen in Lawrenceton. When we pulled up in front of a tiny brick house set up on a hill, the steps up to it steep and crooked, Rory ejected himself from the car with unflattering speed. "I'll give you a call," he promised. "Thanks for not turning me in. Take care of old Hayden, now." He went up the steps two at a time, his extra clothes clutched to him in a paper bag, his hair sticking out all around from a knit watch cap he'd had stuck in his pocket. The streetlight gave the blond hair a tinge of green and his progress a