The Object of Your Affections

by Falguni Kothari

  Fuck. I’d literally put the idea of the two of them as a couple into their heads. I was so stupid.

  While I’d been in the bathroom, Lily had made a pot of tea. She was arranging a plate of cookies, and urged me to sit at the kitchen table when I hovered by the stove.

  “Where’s Rachel?” I asked, taking a seat.

  “She’s in her room.” To give us privacy, I supposed.

  Lily poured the tea into matching daisy-yellow cups, adding a healthy dose of brandy in mine. I wrapped my hands around the hot cup. “I didn’t know I could hurt so much.”

  “Oh, honey.” Lily placed her hand on my cheek. She was so warm.

  Pressing my cheek to my shoulder, I trapped her hand in the crook of my neck. Just for a moment. Then, I let her go.

  I had to let them all go.

  I wiped my nose with the back of my hand, trying—desperately—to stop the tears. I took a healthy swallow of the brandied tea even though I wasn’t thirsty. Maybe if I was drunk enough I’d stop this caterwauling.

  “You were right all along. About marriage and rules and society. About the consequences of flouting convention. About poking the damn sleeping tiger.”

  “Hmm.” Lily sounded uncannily like Dr. Barr just then.

  “I should never have married. I sure as hell shouldn’t have started the baby madness. God, I’m such a schmo.” What had I thought? That Neal would prostrate himself at my feet for all eternity because I’d given him his dream?

  “Hush. You’re not a stupid girl. And you meant well.”

  “He... They...” The scene at the apartment replayed in my head like a Lifetime movie. He’d had her in his arms. They’d been dancing, joking, laughing together. Then the music had stopped, but they didn’t let go of each other. They stood there staring into each other’s eyes, blushing. Or had they been flushed from exertion? And then—oh, God—then his finger had skimmed her nose like he did mine. Tenderly. Sweetly. And he’d smiled at her, his sexy half-lidded smile that meant...that meant something.

  “They’ve become good friends. I get that. But it hurts to see them be close. So in sync. They laugh at the same things, and finish each other’s sentences. No matter what I do, I’m always looking in from the outside.” Tears started dripping down my face again.

  It was never enough, no matter what I did. I was never enough.

  Lily shoved a bunch of tissues in my hand. “That’s not true, bubbala.”

  But we both knew the truth. I’d always felt different, removed from Lily and even the Judge sometimes. To feel like that again in my own home, in my marriage, had killed me.

  Neal had fallen for my feminism, my uncompromising attitude toward social change, justice, way of life. He’d accepted me with all my flaws. But as soon as I’d dangled the carrot of family in front of him, a normal family, he’d flipped. It had validated all my fears about us. Hadn’t I always known deep in my heart that we would end?

  “I need to renegotiate the coparenting and preconception agreements. Obviously, I can’t be part of the family dynamic anymore. I...” I choked, took a large gulp of the tea. “I’ll relinquish all rights to the twins. Naira’s name can go on the birth certificate as the mother.” I got to my feet, nausea rising in my throat. “I need to figure out my domestic arrangements.”

  Lily looked disappointed. “Speak to your husband first.”

  “Why? So he can humiliate me again? Call me a coward and a liar?” I rounded on Lily, suddenly incensed. “I told him I didn’t want to go through with the surrogacy, that I wanted to stop it, stop everything. He refused. At Christmas, I asked if we could shorten our holiday because I was swamped with work. He refused. But he canceled our ski trip because Naira had morning sickness and he didn’t want her to be alone. He takes her side in everything.” Ugh. I sounded like a petulant, spoiled child. “And don’t say he’s only humoring a pregnant woman. He...he has feelings for her. Beyond that of what he’d have toward a surrogate gestating his bairns. He looked at her the way he looks at me and I couldn’t... I cannot bear it.” I broke into sobs again. I wanted to die.

  “Oh, honey.” Lily’s arms came around me and I wept until I had no more tears left.

  “I won’t forgive him for that,” I croaked.

  Lily patted my back. “You will, once you calm down.”

  “No, I won’t. I can’t.” I felt miserable.

  “You can and you will. Now sit down and tell me what this is really about.”

  I was too taken aback by Lily’s brusque tone to argue. Or maybe I needed to confess it all to someone. Either way, the words gushed out of me like blood from a fresh wound.

  “I’m prickly and uncompromising. Unlikable. Neal was bound to open his eyes one day. He’s beginning to. He has to be comparing us, maybe without meaning to, but he must be. She’s how a woman is supposed to be, how a mother is supposed to feel. And I know the twins will love her and...hate me. How could they not? I just want to spare us all the heartache and finish it now.”

  “Oh, Pari. Samuel was prickly and stubborn as a mule. You get that from him, honey. But did that stop us from loving him? Oh, my dear, I’m so sorry you have all these doubts about yourself. It’s my fault—mine and Samuel’s that you feel this way.” She patted my cheek when I would’ve spoken, protested. “I knew what you went through before you came to live with us and yet I didn’t...couldn’t risk opening my heart to another child. You needed me, needed my support and unconditional love and I failed you.”

  “That’s not true,” I protested weakly.

  “Oh, it’s true. And Samuel didn’t help by being who he was—a judge first and a father second. I know you loved him and worshipped the ground he walked on, and you pleased him so much. You were the light of his life. But he should not have let me wallow in my grief for our Jessie. He should not have taught you to be belligerent and tough, and to put your head above your heart. He didn’t handle either of us well.”

  Lily talked about the past until both of us were drained. I was so confused. And stunned. What she’d said... But I didn’t have the strength to deal with any of it just then.

  “Can I nap in your room for a bit?” Tomorrow. I’d resolve it tomorrow.

  Did I really mean to walk away from my marriage? Did I mean to reject the twins just like I’d been rejected—not once but thrice? If I walked away from them, and from Neal, that was the legacy I’d bequeath them. That they’d been unwanted by their biological mother.

  But, how could I stay? If Neal stopped loving me I’d...

  I’d just have to get over it. I’d survived a broken heart before, hadn’t I? And he’d clearly chosen his future. He hadn’t come after me. I had to prepare.

  As Lily led me into her bedroom, I determined not to think about it anymore. I’d deal with it all tomorrow.

  For all her personality mutations, Lily’s room was exactly the way it had been when we’d lived on the Upper East Side. Heavy wooden furniture; a monochromatic color scheme; the throw that smelled of patchouli. It comforted me so much. I lay down, pulling a thick quilt over me.

  When I’d been a teenager, I couldn’t wait to grow up and take charge of my life. But now? I’d happily regress to childhood and let Lily and the Judge take care of me.

  Lily switched off the lights. “Sleep. I’ll wake you in a bit.”

  “Thank you.” I’d been about to shut my eyes when Rachel burst into the room.

  “Naira’s in labor. Neal left a message on my phone. He’s been looking for you everywhere. Lily, dear, he’s been calling you too. Have you misplaced your phone again?”

  “What? But she’s not due for another five weeks!” I bolted out of the bed. Twins rarely gestated full-term, and three weeks ago, Naira had crossed into the safe delivery zone. Still.

  Then I remembered everything else. Guilt roared through me, and drilled a hole in my gut. Fuck. Had
I triggered Naira’s early labor? Had I put the babies in jeopardy because of my insecurities and abandonment issues?

  “I can’t go to the hospital. This is my fault. Don’t you see? I’ll only make it worse.” Oh, God. I’d told her I’d rather have adopted. What kind of a monster was I?

  Lily tsk-tsked. “This isn’t how we raised you, young lady. You will hop yourself down to that hospital right now and take charge of your family.”

  I burst into tears again. I supposed I’d accumulated enough of them over the years, when I’d have died but not cried, to fill the Great Lakes.

  And it was just what I needed to hear. My family.

  I hugged Lily...this little woman who I refused to call my mother. “Thank you. I love you,” I said, kissing her papery Audrey Hepburn cheek. “Mom.”

  Of course, that set her off. But as Lily had pointed out, blubbering would have to wait.

  * * *

  I rushed inside the hospital as Lily and Rachel drove off in their cute red Mazda. I’d sent them home to bring back my handbag and phone and shoes and some clothes and the food Anjum had said Naira needed to eat after the babies were born.

  All the way into the city, I’d cursed myself for forgetting my phone at home, conjuring up worst-case scenarios about what was happening at the hospital. Clearly, something had gone wrong. Had they taken her straight into the operating room? It was safer to deliver twins in an OR, even naturally, in case they needed to perform an emergency C-section.

  How could I have been so stupid? became a litany in my head.

  I was Naira’s designated birthing coach. Not Neal. She’d be panicking without me.

  I skidded to a stop at the reception, got Naira Dalmia’s information and felt slightly better when they told me she was still in the birthing suite. Okay. Not an emergency...yet.

  Briskly, I made my way to the maternity care unit on the fifth floor. There was a family and visitor area just outside the ward teeming with people and balloons and bears and happiness. But as I crossed over to the labor and birthing section, my feet began to drag. Then they turned to lead.

  Suddenly, it was impossible for me to take another step or breath. This was happening. Right now. My life was changing in scary, irreversible ways. Right now.

  Was this what I wanted?

  I whipped about and dashed down the corridors to the elevators. They were fine. It was okay. I didn’t need to be here. I didn’t want to be here. They had a whole hospital at their disposal. I would just be in the way. A grumpy annoyance.

  I sank down on the floor by the elevators, wrapped my arms around my stomach and moaned. People rushed to me, asking me if I was sick and whether I needed a doctor. I growled at them until they backed the hell off.

  God. Humans and their nosiness. Could a woman not have a panic attack in peace?

  I crawled out of the way of major foot traffic and sat with my back pressed against a wall, my legs up to my chest, and began to inhale and exhale like Linda, the Lamaze instructor, had shown us. Five minutes of deep breathing and I felt reasonably sane. I sprang up and marched down the hallway again. It took me another five minutes to get up the nerve to knock on the door of the birthing suite. I kept thinking about Neal smiling at Naira, holding her close. If they hadn’t noticed me, would they have kissed?

  Could we ever go back to the way things used to be?

  Determined to face whatever I had to, I pushed open the birthing suite to Naira’s helpless whimpers. She was sitting up in bed, pillows stacked behind her. Her legs were spread, slightly bent at the knees, and covered with a light blue blanket. She was clutching the sidebars of the hospital bed so hard that they were shaking.

  Neal wasn’t kissing her. He was nowhere near her. Rather, he was standing in one corner of the room like a naughty boy who’d been punished by his elementary schoolteacher. In his hand was a remote—oh, shit. He hadn’t listened. I shook my head. I’d told him the stupid electrode machine wouldn’t help with the pain. Only an epidural would, which Naira had chosen not to get because of the mishap I’d suffered after my egg retrieval. And also because we’d been told that sometimes, with the epidural, the woman in labor may not be able to push as hard, and if that were the case the chances of a C-section increased, or the doctor might need to pull the bairns out with a suction cup.

  The minute Neal’s agitated eyes met mine, his whole posture changed, went slack with relief.

  I ignored him, went straight to Naira.

  “Good. Long and deep breaths in counts of twenty-two.” I touched her hand, felt tears well up in my eyes to match those that spilled down her cheeks. Neal was right. I was a coward. I’d been so stupid, so selfish. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry for freaking out.”

  When her contraction passed, she stopped gritting her teeth long enough to glare murderously at Neal. “Be sorry later. Get your husband and that damned remote out of here before I kill them both.” Right then, Naira looked exactly as she sounded—one pissed-off Valkyrie.

  “Done.” And I burst out laughing.

  * * *

  Events unfolded quickly from there with no medical complications. Both babies were in the vertex/vertex position and stayed that way even during late labor and the transition. They moved Naira into the OR, where, besides Dr. Kapoor and our midwife, two pediatricians, two pediatric nurses and an anesthesiologist were also present—just in case.

  But my waiflike best friend was no weakling, and despite the moaning, babbling, praying and panting—did anyone truly expect a woman giving birth to maintain any sort of breathing pattern or verbal etiquette?—delivered our twins like a trouper.

  I wasn’t quite so sanguine. But as long as I was useful—holding Naira’s hand or massaging her back or timing her contractions or wiping sweat from her face—I was okay. I had a perfect view of what was going on from behind Naira’s shoulder, and the whole time Naira pushed and pushed and screamed and pushed, I shook. How the fuck did women do this? And survive?

  My heart started pounding in terror. What would we do if...

  “Congratulations! It’s a girl!” sang Dr. Kapoor through a hospital mask, holding up a tiny little human, already wailing and pumping her arms and legs. She was mostly bald.

  “A girl. A sweet, sweet girl.” Naira smiled through her tears.

  The world tilted—or was it just me?—as I watched the doctor clamp and cut the umbilical cord. Someone else wiped fluids from tiny human orifices before she was swaddled in a blanket and brought forth for inspection.

  The girl was covered in vernix, a white substance with loads of antibacterial properties. That was good. Her Apgar score was six. Which was acceptable, but not great.

  “Here you go, Mommy,” said the nurse, holding the squirming bundle out like a pagan sacrifice.

  I clasped my hands behind my back, while Naira reached for the baby, crying, laughing, still in labor. We all froze when it became clear that the nurse was offering the squealing bundle to me and not Naira. I was the intended mommy, after all.

  I took a step back from the bed. There was no way I was holding a human that tiny on my own.

  “Give the baby to her.” I pointed at Naira, who began to shake her head and wipe her eyes with the backs of her hands.

  “You should hold her first, Paris. You’re her mother.” She gasped suddenly as if she was in the most god-awful pain—which she was.

  I came around the bed so she could see my face clearly. “So are you. I’m not sure...”

  “Paris, just hold your daughter! Gaaah!” Naira yelled, then fell back against the pillows, grunting and groaning.

  Not even I would argue with a woman in labor.

  That Great Lake inside me? It spilled over and just wouldn’t quit when little miss Samyra Naira Fraser was placed in my trembling arms for the first time. Thank God the nurse didn’t let go until I was sure I wouldn’t drop her.


  I gaped at the wee creature Neal and I had made. That Naira had helped bring into this world.

  Was it weird and icky to hold a wrinkly, blood-covered mini human in your arms? You’d better believe it. Would I do it again? I did, slightly more confidently, when Liam Neal Fraser shot out of his birth mother and howled his displeasure at the world—just like his biological mother often did—as soon as he was cleaned up.

  Their father had slipped inside the steel-forged walls of my heart like a stealth missile. Our babies smashed through the remaining debris like battering rams and staked their claims on me forever.

  So, there it was. Motherhood was as painful as I’d imagined it to be. As scary and immense. I worried the twins would hate me for not carrying them, laboring for them, breastfeeding them. I worried they’d love Naira more for all those reasons. But what if, despite it all, my babies loved me just like their father did? Like I was afraid I was beginning to love them. Because as Lily said, being prickly and uncompromising and unlikable didn’t mean you couldn’t be loved.

  After Naira had cooed and gushed and showered kisses on our precious cargo, I brought the twins out to where their father waited with Lily and Rachel and friends and family. Neal rushed forward. Of course, he cried when he saw our babies for the first time. He’d cried reciting the vows at our wedding too. I hadn’t.

  “Mazel tov, Daddy,” I said softly, watching him fall in love with our babies. I didn’t even get jealous. Okay, I did. Slightly.

  He gathered us into the strong circle of his arms, just holding us. Adoring us. He kissed us one by one. I was the last to get his attention, but his lips lingered on mine the longest.

  “Are we good?” he asked, his blue-blue eyes solemn and forgiving.

  I sighed, letting love fill the pockets of doubt inside my damaged heart. There was nothing I wouldn’t do for this man. Or for the precious sweeties we’d made. If that meant I’d have to risk heartbreak from time to time, so be it.