Friends and Strangers - J. Courtney Sullivan Page 0,71
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After a year, the process felt so separate from parenthood that Elisabeth questioned whether she even wanted a baby, or if she just wanted to win. But then, riding home on a not-very-crowded F train one afternoon, she sat across from an exceptionally cute infant in a bear hat.
“How old?” the man sitting beside the baby asked.
“Six months,” the mother said.
They both grinned. Elisabeth did too, as did the woman two seats down, and a young guy looking up from his newspaper. They were all hopelessly in love with the baby. It even made them like one another.
As much as they collectively knew about how hard it is to be human, she thought then that they must also know something deeper about how special it is, how beautiful. Why else would they react with such joy to the existence of one of their own, starting out?
* * *
—
Elisabeth was four months pregnant with Gil before she believed it. She kept saying, If I’m pregnant, and Andrew and Nomi would say, You are.
Nomi was pregnant again too by then, due any day.
Now Elisabeth could finally be on the good message boards, the ones where stupid women fretted about baby names. They sent lists to one another, perfect strangers, for opinions. She took a screenshot once, and texted it to Andrew. The post said Help!!! I can’t decide. I’m thinking Max or Lucas or Sebastian or Harry or Thor.
“What are the names of the boys in Alex’s class?” she asked Nomi.
Nomi listed them off on her fingers. “Jax. Zev. Kip. Cruz. Dune. Bo. Blue.”
Elisabeth frowned. “Those aren’t even names, they’re just sounds.”
When she was eight months along, Nomi added her to the BK Mamas group, a Brooklyn rite of passage. Nomi said it was great for getting cheap secondhand baby gear, much of it barely, if ever, used. But the real appeal was the conversation, the drama, the lunacy.
“What is there to get dramatic about?” Elisabeth asked.
“You’ll see,” Nomi said.
* * *
—
Gil was born on a perfect day, the sky pure blue.
Elisabeth could usually count on herself to have the wrong reaction to major life events, so she was grateful for the bliss she felt and the knowledge that, for once, she had gotten what she wanted, and it was better than she dreamed.
The love was an astonishment. Every time she looked at him, she felt a shock of wonder at how close she had come to never knowing it.
* * *
—
Andrew knocked on the closed door of the den.
Elisabeth got up from the couch and let him in. He held a plate in each hand. He had made cheeseburgers, with caramelized onions and avocado and sweet potato fries, her favorite.
They sat down.
He put the plates on the table and took hold of the remote.
“That smells amazing,” she said.
“I’m sorry,” he said. “I had a shitty day at work. I forget sometimes, what it must be like for you, on your own all day.”
“It’s okay. I’m sorry about the wine.”
“What are you watching?”
The show had just switched over from one she liked, about bargain hunting for beach homes, to one she despised so much it made her angry whenever it came on.
Luxury Tiny Houses.
“You can change the channel,” she said.
“Why? I know you secretly love this show,” he said. “Be proud. Do you.”
An off-screen voice said, This one-hundred-fifty-square-foot jewel outside Indianapolis is a steal at only eighty-five thousand dollars.
“Can’t you get an actual house outside Indianapolis for that amount?” she said.
Bob and Alice bought this antique trunk at an estate sale. It now functions as a stylish litter box for their four cats, and a seating area when guests come over.
“Please,” she said. “I’m begging you. Make it stop.”
She reached to grab the remote from his hand, and Andrew pulled her in close for a kiss. Elisabeth fell into him.
They lay together as he flipped through the channels.
“I love you a lot, you know,” he said.
“I love you too.”
* * *
—
At two-forty in the morning, Elisabeth woke up. A moment later, Gil began to wail.
She shot up in bed, but then she slowly lay back down and closed her eyes. She started counting in her head. She got to ninety-eight before Andrew stirred.
She listened to his footsteps as he padded over to the baby.
“What’s up, buddy? You need a bottle?” he said.
He wasn’t keeping his voice down. She didn’t open her eyes.
She could feel him standing there, looking at her.