him to go away every now and again.”
A cheery nurse enters and claps in sync with the syllables of “Good morning.” She claps three more times when she says, “How. Are. We?” Bess watches her move around the room. What is it with these nurses that they’re so happy in the morning? Are they this happy in the proctology ward?
“I’m sorry, mommies, but I’m going to have to ask your visitors to step out of the room for just a few minutes, okay? We just want to clean up a bit, okay? Okay.”
“Okay,” says Bess, with a quick smile to Gaia. She is actually thankful for the interruption.
“Can I see my baby?” Gaia asks the nurse.
“In a few minutes, okay?”
“I’ll go check on her, wish her a happy birthday,” says Bess. “I’m glad you’re doing well. I’ll call you later.”
Gaia reaches for Bess’s hand. “Bess, thank you. Thank you for being here.”
Bess holds on to Gaia’s hand with both of hers, feeling a sudden powerful mix of emotion take hold and rise into her throat, as if she were holding her mother’s hand. “My pleasure,” she says, and exits the room.
Just outside the door, Bess hears Gaia ask the nurse once again to see Pearl, this time in a more forceful, less controlled voice. Now , says Gaia, I want to see my baby now . Please don’t tell me I can’t .
So she’s human after all, thinks Bess.
T he newborns are behind a window decorated with cranberry and peach flower decals. There the hair brusher is standing, staring, making little breath marks on the glass. Bess stands next to this tall woman and looks for Pearl. It occurs to her that she doesn’t know Gaia’s last name and though she searches among the infants, she can’t tell one from another. More intriguing is the whole group of them, where they were just twenty-four hours ago, where they will scatter to, and what they will become as they age.
“That one’s mine,” says the woman, pointing to one corner of the room.
Bess is suddenly overcome with a visceral sadness that she may never be able to say those words herself. She’s thought at times of being a single parent, but knows it’s ultimately not for her. Being a single woman is hard enough. “Very cute,” is all she can think to say.
Her cell phone rings from inside her knapsack. She answers it as she walks to the front exit of the hospital.
“Hey. Where are you?” says Gabrielle.
“Still at the hospital.”
“That woman had her baby? She’s okay?”
“She’s fine. Baby’s fine. Me, I need two Valium and a six-hour nap. Did you get everyone out of my place after I left?”
“When the wine ran out. I ended up talking to the guy in the football jersey all night—Paul. Totally hot. And smart. Did you see him?”
“I think so. Did you get his number?”
“Home, work, cell, e-mail, oh yeah. Major chemistry. Think I’ll quit looking for a job and get married after all.” Gabrielle has told Bess many times she has little interest in marriage, monogamous relationships, or children of her own. She gushes love and energy toward her five nieces and nephews who live nearby and that’s enough. Though she listens with attempted empathy, she doesn’t understand Bess’s needs for those things, so Bess doesn’t burden her with those particular longings. Rather, Bess harbors a secret jealousy of Gabrielle’s aloofness, which, coupled with her voluptuous physique and dimpled smile, seem to attract droves of eligible bachelors, the way Gabrielle used to attract so many of the boys in high school. “That was a joke,” Gabrielle says. “What’s with the pregnant pause? Ha, get it?”
Now that Bess is out of the hospital, she finds she can think more clearly and her mind turns to Rory. What’s his story? she wonders. What would have happened between them had the whole night continued on as it was? “Gabrielle, remind me . . . how did you meet Rory again?”
“The Irish guy? At a bar last week. I told you.”
“I know, but how . Did
A cheery nurse enters and claps in sync with the syllables of “Good morning.” She claps three more times when she says, “How. Are. We?” Bess watches her move around the room. What is it with these nurses that they’re so happy in the morning? Are they this happy in the proctology ward?
“I’m sorry, mommies, but I’m going to have to ask your visitors to step out of the room for just a few minutes, okay? We just want to clean up a bit, okay? Okay.”
“Okay,” says Bess, with a quick smile to Gaia. She is actually thankful for the interruption.
“Can I see my baby?” Gaia asks the nurse.
“In a few minutes, okay?”
“I’ll go check on her, wish her a happy birthday,” says Bess. “I’m glad you’re doing well. I’ll call you later.”
Gaia reaches for Bess’s hand. “Bess, thank you. Thank you for being here.”
Bess holds on to Gaia’s hand with both of hers, feeling a sudden powerful mix of emotion take hold and rise into her throat, as if she were holding her mother’s hand. “My pleasure,” she says, and exits the room.
Just outside the door, Bess hears Gaia ask the nurse once again to see Pearl, this time in a more forceful, less controlled voice. Now , says Gaia, I want to see my baby now . Please don’t tell me I can’t .
So she’s human after all, thinks Bess.
T he newborns are behind a window decorated with cranberry and peach flower decals. There the hair brusher is standing, staring, making little breath marks on the glass. Bess stands next to this tall woman and looks for Pearl. It occurs to her that she doesn’t know Gaia’s last name and though she searches among the infants, she can’t tell one from another. More intriguing is the whole group of them, where they were just twenty-four hours ago, where they will scatter to, and what they will become as they age.
“That one’s mine,” says the woman, pointing to one corner of the room.
Bess is suddenly overcome with a visceral sadness that she may never be able to say those words herself. She’s thought at times of being a single parent, but knows it’s ultimately not for her. Being a single woman is hard enough. “Very cute,” is all she can think to say.
Her cell phone rings from inside her knapsack. She answers it as she walks to the front exit of the hospital.
“Hey. Where are you?” says Gabrielle.
“Still at the hospital.”
“That woman had her baby? She’s okay?”
“She’s fine. Baby’s fine. Me, I need two Valium and a six-hour nap. Did you get everyone out of my place after I left?”
“When the wine ran out. I ended up talking to the guy in the football jersey all night—Paul. Totally hot. And smart. Did you see him?”
“I think so. Did you get his number?”
“Home, work, cell, e-mail, oh yeah. Major chemistry. Think I’ll quit looking for a job and get married after all.” Gabrielle has told Bess many times she has little interest in marriage, monogamous relationships, or children of her own. She gushes love and energy toward her five nieces and nephews who live nearby and that’s enough. Though she listens with attempted empathy, she doesn’t understand Bess’s needs for those things, so Bess doesn’t burden her with those particular longings. Rather, Bess harbors a secret jealousy of Gabrielle’s aloofness, which, coupled with her voluptuous physique and dimpled smile, seem to attract droves of eligible bachelors, the way Gabrielle used to attract so many of the boys in high school. “That was a joke,” Gabrielle says. “What’s with the pregnant pause? Ha, get it?”
Now that Bess is out of the hospital, she finds she can think more clearly and her mind turns to Rory. What’s his story? she wonders. What would have happened between them had the whole night continued on as it was? “Gabrielle, remind me . . . how did you meet Rory again?”
“The Irish guy? At a bar last week. I told you.”
“I know, but how . Did
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