I called Dan and gave him the whole story, too. He asked if he could come right over. I said yes, of course. Didn’t even hesitate.
Other people began to arrive uninvited. First Bogue and Allison rang the buzzer, waking Jake. They brought champagne and diapers. Then Dave showed up carrying a little stuffed lamb. Ty’s drummer Kyle, who lived a few blocks over, came with flowers for me and a box of cigars for Ty. This was the point at which I realized we were having a party and picked up the phone and ordered food.
Dan slipped in and quietly sat beside Jake and me on the couch before I even knew he had arrived.
“Oh, hi!” I said.
My father was looking at my son. I pulled back the blanket and showed off all of Jake’s special features. The bright eyes and increasingly alert expression. The neat little toes, lined up like tiny pink peas in a just-opened pod. The downy, gravity-defying hair. The shriveling stub of umbilical cord.
You’d think I’d have wept a little in this moment, but no. My father did. I’d never seen such a thing. Dan was always all calm, smiling, quiet composure. He took Jake from me and held him and his face didn’t change, he still smiled and talked to me and Jake. But tears streamed down his cheeks.
So maybe that’s where I got the crying gene. Ty came over and sat beside Dan and gave him a napkin to wipe his face.
“Thank you for my grandson,” Dan said.
I showed Dan the wedding pictures Beck had taken. Then I excused myself and went to the bathroom, closed the door, and just sat there for a while. I was not exactly in party mode. There were too many sore parts on my body, and I’d had so little sleep. I was still bleeding. I also felt a little blue.
I came out and went to the bedroom, thinking no one would mind if I just lay down for a few minutes before the next feeding.
Ty was changing Jake’s diaper on the bed. “Your mom called, she and José just came through the Holland Tunnel. They’ll be here in ten minutes.”
“What? Oh. Ha ha. Funny.”
He gave me a bemused look. “I’m not kidding.”
“Yes, you are. You are.”
“Uh-uh.”
I clutched my chest. “Oh God.”
Ty gripped my arm “Baby, what is it?
“It’s Dan!” I hissed. “What do you think it is? Oh shit! What do I do? Do I ask him to leave?”
Ty scowled. “No. You don’t.”
I got down on all fours and started looking for shoes. “I’m going out for a while. Say I went to the store.”
“Grace.”
I came up from under the bed with a pair of flip-flops, but Ty took them from me.
“You’re going to be here when your mom sees Jake.”
“Ty, you do not understand. It will be awful. Apocalyptic. Earth-swallowing black holes may form.”
“So let them.” He tossed the flip-flops back under the bed.
“You are really bugging me.”
“You don’t have to fix this. It’s their shit. Let them deal with it.”
I clutched my stomach. “Do we have any Tums?”
Though he was being completely insensitive, Ty could not force me to witness the initial moment of confrontation. He took the baby to the living room and I stayed in the bedroom and listened.
Sounds of entry. Julia and José, saying hello to everyone. I recognized the convivial rise and fall of my mother’s voice. She was in social-queen mode. I waited for dead silence to follow when she spotted Dan. It never happened. People just chatted away.
I crept down the hall and took a peek. There they were, the two of them, on the couch. Dan still in his spot, Julia now sitting beside him, holding Jake. Ty was standing in front of them, smiling at something one of them said. I walked over and stood beside Ty. I felt shaky, so I slid my hand into his and leaned against him. He was so solid. I wanted to hide my face against his shoulder, but I resolved to be brave.
Dan looked uncharacteristically pensive, but he smiled at me and winked.
Julia was touching Jake’s face with light fingers. She looked up and saw me. “Oh, my darling.” Still cradling him, she stood and hugged me, one-armed. “He is so wonderful.”
“Isn’t he? Look.” I showed her the strawberry birthmark on the back of his head.
“Just like you had,” she smiled. She smoothed my hair. “You look exhausted. Sit down.”
Ty squeezed my hand and let go. I sat gingerly on the couch between my mother and father. We were all focused on the baby, so no one had to say much.
After a few minutes, Julia stood up and announced loudly that everyone had to leave, that I needed to rest.
“No, really, I’m fine!” No one listened. They all vanished, except Dan. Even José gave me a quick hug and left. Julia was staying.
Ty went to the kitchen and started cleaning up all the takeout.
So, there we were. The four of us.
“Julia, you look wonderful,” Dan said.
“I do look good,” Julia said.
Dan smiled. “José seems like a terrific guy. What does he do?”
“He’s a detective in Trenton.”
Dan nodded.
We all looked at the baby.
“How’s your work going?” Julia asked.
“Fine. I just sold some paintings to a collector in Japan.”
Julia nodded.
“I love the wedding cake you chose for Grace and Ty.”
“Oh, did you see the pictures?”
“Grace just showed them to me. Thanks so much for doing that.”
“Oh, of course.” She waved a nonchalant hand but snuck a mild smirk at me.
“Well.” Dan got up. He touched Jake’s toes. “Good-bye,” he said, to Jake and Julia. I got up and walked him to the door, and as he left he patted my face. “See?” he whispered. “Everything is fine.”
I went back and sat beside Julia and breathed, long and deep. That hadn’t been anything like I feared. No blood. No battle. Julia looked so natural, the way she held Jake asleep on her shoulder. Way more confident and relaxed than I felt holding him. I guess practiced moms don’t forget, even if it’s been a long, long time. I was glad she was going to stay for a few days and help me get the hang of it.
She had a small, strange smile on her face.
“What?”
“Well, nothing. It’s just that he’s become so old. And so serious!”
“Dan?”
“Yes! I thought he’d be a charming, maddening boy forever.”
I was up at five a.m., nursing Jake. If you wanted to call it that. More like having my nipples chewed to pieces while simultaneously starving my baby. He was getting angry at me, and who could blame him? He was doing an awful lot of energetic sucking and not getting much for his trouble. He fussed and then fell back asleep. I thought about tucking him in next to his dad, but worried that Ty might accidentally flatten him. I put him in his crib and sat at the computer and e-mailed some pictures to Peg.
I got in the shower, and while the hot water streamed over me my milk came in. It was the most bizarre tingling, filling, stretching sensation. I watched my breasts inflate and rise up like twin Macy’s Thanksgiving Day Parade balloons. Suddenly they had doubled in size and were rock-hard and threatening to burst. I got out of the shower, threw on my robe, and ran to the bedroom.
“Ty!”
He jerked awake, rolled over, and squinted at me.
I pulled open my robe.
He sat up, wide-eyed. “Dayum!”
I got Jake out of the crib and brought him to the bed. Ty piled pillows up behind me. Jake latched on and his first tug unleashed a crazy, pressurized squirt of milk that sprayed all three of us. It was like someone had poked a hole in a water balloon. Jake reattached and gulped away heroically, like the semi-starved baby he was.
“Oh, my poor boy,” I said. “You’re so hungry.”
“Holy cow!” Ty said. He had droplets of milk on his face.
I frowned. “Don’t say cow.”
He wiped
his face and licked his fingers. “Mm. It’s sweet.” He touched my other breast. “Looks like there’s plenty for me, too.”
“Eh,” I said. Maybe intrigued. Maybe creeped out.
He saw my conflicted face and laughed. “I’m just sayin’.”
the weird summer
My life had become so strange.
I wasn’t working. There was this small, utterly dependent human appended to me at all times. My body was tired, and soft, and trying to get back to normal on very little sleep.
All that crazy auburn hair of Jake’s? It fell out. He became fashionably bald. My mom assured me it would grow back, eventually.
Ty was gone long hours every day, working on his record, or in meetings, or on the phone with producers and lawyers and publicists and all kinds of business people I didn’t know. Doing radio and magazine interviews.
Even when he was physically home he was frequently absent. We’d be in the middle of a conversation and I’d realize he was actually no longer hearing me; the music in his head was taking over. It helped that he brought home tracks for me to listen to.
With two weeks of maternity leave left, I took Jake to visit Lavelle and Lakshmi and everybody at SASS. They were so sweet to Jake. Everyone wanted to hold him.
I told Lavelle that I had decided not to return to work, at least not during Jake’s first year. I apologized for the short notice. She was wonderful about it. She asked me if I might like to do some writing from home. Grant proposals, brochures, training manuals.
I said yes, please! Anything, to stave off brain atrophy.
I also enrolled in an online memoir-writing workshop called “Telling Your Truths Without Making Everyone Hate You.”
I’ve always thought I might like to try writing something one day. So why not start with a memoir? Just for practice, of course, and personal reflection. And I honestly thought I’d write about me and my dad. But I sat down to write the first page, and it amused me to type the words How Tyler Wilkie Wrecked My Life. It actually gave me a little chuckle. And then my fingers became possessed. That movie The Red Shoes? Where the ballerina puts the shoes on and can’t stop dancing? She dances, and dances, and dances? She’s crying and starving and desperate for sleep, and still dancing? It’s been like that, only typing. I write with one hand while breastfeeding Jake. When I should be napping because he’s napping. I take the laptop to the bathroom with me.
In spite of all his music and business distractions, Ty noticed.
“What are you writing?” he asked.
“A story.”
“It’s long, huh?”
“Epic.”
“Can I read it?”
“I think so. When I’m finished.”
“What’s it about?”
“This confused person who becomes less confused.”
“Autobiography?”
“Of course.”
Jean and Nathan, Beck, Bogue, my dad, my mom, and José came for brunch for Ty and Beck’s birthday in July.
Midafternoon, after cake, everyone but Beck left. I was in the living room feeding Jake. She and Ty were in the kitchen, cleaning up and negotiating. It started with low murmurs, but the volume rapidly escalated.
Beck: (something unintelligible) plans.
Ty: I never ask you for anything.
Beck: Just put him down for a nap.
(voices get low till Ty’s rises again, exasperated)
Ty: Take him to the park in the stroller! Come back in two hours.
(long silence)
Beck: What’s that?
Ty: What does it fucking look like?
Beck: Add a zero.
Ty: Five hundred? No fucking way.
Beck: Right. No fucking.
(another long silence)
Beck: All right. But make it one-fifty.
Ty: Seventy-five an hour. For babysitting.
Beck: Fine. See ya.
Ty: All right! Don’t come back till five.
Beck: We said two hours. It could be earlier. You know he’ll get hungry.
Oh boy. I knew what this was about. Yesterday I had gotten the all-clear from Dr. Goldstein to have sex again.
Beck came in and took Jake from me carefully and quietly. He was asleep. “Ty wants me to take him to the park so you two can get it on.”
“We can just put him in his crib.”
“That’s what I said. But he said you’re gonna make noise.”
“Me? I’m going to make noise?”
She smiled.
The indignity! “Oh, did he! Well, believe me, he—”
“Grace,” she said, “please don’t tell me anything sexual about my brother. I don’t want to puke.”
The minute she walked out the door he pulled me to the bedroom. I asked for and was allowed two minutes alone in the bathroom first, but was reminded that we had a limited time frame.
I worried that it was going to hurt. It turned out it did a little, at first, so we slowed down.
Oh, to be so close to him again. Skin-on-skin, eye-to-eye, so much of us touching the other all at once. No big belly between us. I realized that it was our first time being together like this, so unencumbered, since our long, fertile weekend last September. We were still so new to each other! But it also felt like coming home to him, finally. We were able to be together without caution or complication. With trust and excitement.
the fourth autumn
Late summer, Peg came home from San Francisco. We moved into Ty’s apartment when the sublease ended. It’s small for the three of us, but okay for now.
On my birthday Jake rolled over, completely over, on our bed, looking very pleased with himself. Ty pulled him back to the center and he rolled over again. And again. He was unstoppable. We laughed, and he looked at us and laughed, too, out loud. Two firsts, in one minute!
I found these words this morning on a coffee-stained piece of notebook paper.
I want to make your whole world better
I want to be your favorite song
I want to dance with you forever
and ever
til we’re gone
I want to watch you while your sleeping
I want to win you when you wake
I want to be the warmest rain and
endless sunset
on your face
this is the finest moment
this is the only dream for me
and I want you
and this is the only
love
there is
this is the finest moment
this is the only dream for me
and I need you
and this is the only
love
there is
for
me
Today I printed out this memoir about us and gave it to Ty. It took him four hours, but he read it straight through.
“What do you think?” I asked. “Did I tell it right?”
“You made me look way too good. Damn, I’m sexy. I’m in love with me, after reading that.”
“You were in love with you already.”
“Well, now I love me even more.”
He didn’t say much else. After reading the whole thing. All the turmoil! All the Sturm und Drang! All the weeping! All the thwarted love!
I put Jake in his bouncy seat and followed Ty to the piano, determined to tease more out of him. “What else?”
He noodled around on the keys, quietly humming. “Your mom is like, ‘Grace, be practical!’ and your dad is like, ‘Grace, give your heart away!’ ”
“Yeah.”
“And you’re like both of them.”
“So it seems. Anything else?”
“I liked the sex.”
“Oh, you did?”
“You’re a good writer, babe. You should think about writing a real story next, instead of just a bunch of stuff that happened to us.”
“Yeah, I’m already thinking about that.”
“Awesome. Meanwhile, you
may thank me.”
“For?”
“Wrecking your life.”
I looked at him, horrified. “Ty! I was joking. That was a joke!”
“I don’t know,” he said. “I think it might be true.”
“Then it needed wrecking.”
“Come here,” he said.
I sat next to him on the piano bench.
“Breathe,” he said.
I kissed him. And breathed.
He smiled. “Yes, Gracie. Yes.”
author’s note
The ridiculous publishing scenarios in this story are all based on real situations I either heard of from my editor friends or read about in Diane Ravitch’s fascinating, infuriating book about the textbook industry, The Language Police: How Pressure Groups Restrict What Students Learn.
Ty’s songs for Grace
“This Sign”
“Calling”
“Her”
“Something Sacred”
“Tonight”
“A Breath Away”
“Believe”
“The Finest Moment”
To learn more about the Grace Grows sound track of original songs written and recorded by Lee Morgan, including a bonus track from Ty, “The Bottom Line,” go to www.shellesumners.com/grace-grows-book/original-songs.
Grace and Ty’s playlist
“River” Joni Mitchell
“Bell Bottom Blues” Derek & the Dominos
“That’s the Way of the World” Earth, Wind & Fire
Grace Grows Page 31
