over to me and Jess.
I wave back, suddenly shy. We're invading her house when she's at her most vulnerable, exhausted, and I can only imagine, sore. And she has her boob hanging out.
Jess pushes me forward. “This was your idea,” he hisses.
“Hi,” I say. “I'm Bee, and this is Jess. I'm sorry about invading you like this. We had a little cabin fever, and Martha and Herbert were so nice. We won't stay long…”
“Oh, don't worry about it,” she says. “You've met my mom, I'm sure.” Sally glances at us and then turns right back to hovering over the baby. “I'm Mandy, and this is Jacob.” She smiles at me. “Come see.”
“Uh, are you sure?” I edge forward, and peer over at little Jacob, who is busily sucking away. I feel like I have never seen anything so small. Her breast looks bigger than his whole body. “Can I…can I touch him?” I ask hesitantly.
“Of course,” Mandy says. “If you wouldn't mind—” she nods at the bottle of Purell on the side table next to her.
I make sure my hands are cleaner than the rest of me has felt in days. I reach out a finger and stroke his hand, which curls tightly around me. His fingers are long and spidery and seem so delicate, but his grip is incredibly strong. He looks like a cross between a baby bird and Yoda, but somehow he is beautiful. “He's amazing,” I say honestly.
“Thank you,” Mandy says, stroking Jacob's cheek. “We think he's pretty great.”
“But is he eating enough? Do you think you're producing enough milk?” Sally says. She is literally wringing her hands.
Mandy looks pleadingly at Martha, who jumps in. “Now Sally, you remember what it's like having a new baby, right? Everything seems terrible, but it's all going to be okay. Look at him—he's perfect. What could there be to worry about? Try to just enjoy him.”
“But what if Mandy gets mastitis? She should be supplementing just in case. And what if—”
“You know, I think Jess and Bee here could use a little something to eat. They've been eating nothing but train food for the past—how long did you say it was, honey?”
“Three days,” Jess says drily.
“Why don't you and I go fix them something?” Martha bustles Sally off to the kitchen, and Mandy heaves a sigh of relief.
“I don't know how she survived my infancy,” she says, rolling her eyes. “I don't know how either of us survived.”
Jacob gulps down a few last sips and then pulls away to look around the room. Once Mandy has tucked herself away, Jess comes forward to take his turn admiring.
“His eyes are really clear already,” he says. “It looks like he's focusing pretty well, too. Hey, buddy.” Jess Purells himself, and then reaches out and tickles the bottom of Jacob's foot. Jacob kicks out at him and Mandy chuckles.
“He's ticklish,” she marvels. She leans back against the chair and sighs. “I don't know why I'm so tired. I mean, apart from the not sleeping. It's not like I do anything all day. Jacob's such a lump that I just sit here all day watching trashy television with a baby sleeping on me while my poor husband races around getting me cups of tea, getting my mom cups of tea, getting the place ready for poor Aunt Martha and Uncle Herbert…”
Herbert smiles at her. “Now you know you didn't need to go to any trouble for us, Mandy. Martha would sleep in the garage if it meant she got to hold that baby.”
“I sure would!” Martha and Sally come back to the living room, with Sally carrying a bowl of corn nuts. “Is he finished eating yet? Doesn't he know he has a responsibility to be passed around to all these strange people he's never met so they can coo over him?” She carefully scoops Jacob up from Mandy's chest, and Mandy rolls her neck and stretches.
“Would you two like some corn nuts?” Sally offers.
I reach forward to take a handful—I really like corn nuts, and I never eat them because of the oil—but Jess shakes his head.
“No thanks,” he says. “I ate just before we came.”
I give him a weird look—no he didn't—but then Sally says something that makes me lose my appetite, too.
“You know, you look awfully familiar to me, Bee.” Sally leans forward and squints. “Doesn't she, Mandy?”
Mandy shrugs, not looking up from Jacob as he stares at his Aunt Martha. “I don't know, Mom.”
“She does…”
I exchange a glance with