by Kate Hewitt
‘Do you know that, Heather?’ Tina’s voice sounded too gentle, and I forced myself to meet her compassionate gaze without flinching, or worse, falling apart.
‘Yes, I do. It’s a hard decision, of course it is, but…’ My voice wobbled and I took a quick, steadying breath. ‘I’ve come to terms with it. I have.’
At least, I thought I had. I’d told myself I had. But now that I’ve met Grace Thomas, seen her apartment, heard her talk? She was so elegant and self-assured, everything I’ve never been able to be, not that I’d even know how to try. How do her clothes look so smooth, like they’ve never seen a wrinkle? And her hair is so shiny.
But she also seemed untouchable and a little brittle, and I wonder how she’ll be as a mom. Will she love my baby? Will she be able to handle the nighttime feeds and all the poop and puke and whining, the way it never, ever stops, even when they get older? Especially when they get older. I can’t picture it, but maybe I just don’t want to.
‘So are you happy to proceed?’ Tina asks as we step out onto Fifth Avenue, a freezing wind funneling down the sidewalk. ‘You can think about it, of course, and talk to Kevin. And if you’d like to meet with Grace again…’
Suddenly I am filled with panic. I didn’t ask Grace anything. I don’t even know why she wants to adopt, or what kind of mother she’ll be. Will she have a nanny? Is she good at hugs? Does she have a boyfriend? I am completely, utterly ignorant. And I’m meant to hand her my baby in a couple of months?
‘Heather?’ Tina looks at me, her face filled with concern. I whirl around, some desperate part of me intent on going back into Grace’s building, marching right up to her front door. But then I see her coming out, an expensive-looking leather bag over one shoulder. She is cradling her cell phone between her shoulder and ear as she waves down a taxi with her free arm. Before I even know what I am doing, I stride up to her.
‘Heather—’ Tina calls, sounding alarmed, but I don’t listen.
‘Grace.’ My voice comes out loud and hard. She looks up, her eyes widening. She drops her arm and says something into the phone, ending the call, before sliding the phone into her blazer pocket.
‘Heather.’
We stare at each other, two women, both wanting something. Grace’s expression is calm and steady, almost as if she expected this. I know I must look wild.
‘You never told me why you want to adopt. Why you want a baby.’ I’m breathing hard, ragged gasps tearing through me as I practically glare at her.
Grace hesitates, as if she’s thinking through her options, and then she settles on the truth. I see it in the way her shoulders square, her jaw sets. ‘Because my father died a few months ago and I realized how alone I was. Am. I work a lot, I don’t have any family and not even that many friends. My dad was everything to me, the best dad I could have asked for. And now I want a chance to be the best mom.’ She lifts her chin a little. ‘I know I probably don’t seem very maternal to you, and the truth is I’ve barely even held a baby before. But I know I’ll love this child with everything I have. Every breath, every heartbeat.’
The air rushes out of me; I feel relieved, because I believe her, and I needed her to say that, as much as it hurts.
‘Now it’s your turn,’ Grace says, surprising me. ‘Why, really, did you choose me, a single career woman, to be the adoptive mother?’ She eyes me appraisingly and I decide on honesty, just as she did. Maybe it will draw us together in some strange way.
‘Because I didn’t want to give my baby to a couple who already has everything, who would be like Kev and me, only a better version. It’s hard enough as it is.’ I meet her gaze unflinchingly. ‘You’re different. I won’t… I won’t compare myself to you all the time. And you might have a lot, I know that, but you don’t have something that I have.’ I realize how petty that makes me sound, and I bite my lip. ‘It makes it easier somehow, and I need this to be easier. Otherwise I don’t think I can do it at all.’
Grace nods slowly, accepting. Understanding. ‘Okay,’ she says, and waits. Another tense second passes; I feel as if we’re both standing on a set of teetering scales.
‘Okay,’ I finally reply, a farewell, and then I turn back to Tina, who is waiting a few yards back, looking uncertain. I nod at her; I feel strangely satisfied, even though the pain is still there. It always will be.
‘I want to go ahead,’ I tell her, and keep walking.
‘You know,’ Tina says once we’re at the car, ‘it would be a really nice gesture to invite Grace to your ultrasound. Isn’t it next week?’
‘Okay,’ I say as I hunch my shoulders against that unforgiving wind. ‘Can you ask her?’
Back at home Kevin flicks a glance my way and then back at the TV. ‘How did it go?’ he asks after a second, his voice low, and my jaw practically drops because he’s acknowledging that this is happening. Sort of.
‘Pretty good, I guess.’
I told Kev I was meeting a prospective parent, but I left Grace’s single status out of it, and he didn’t ask. He certainly didn’t volunteer to go with me. I would have told him if he’d asked, if he’d shown any interest at all, but he has always refused and so I’ve refused to beg or plead. I knew he wouldn’t be thrilled about Grace being single. He’d probably make some comment about lesbians and turkey basters. In any case, he’ll find out soon enough.
I haven’t told Stacy or my parents that I’m pregnant yet, either. Loose clothing and winter coats let me get away with it so far, but I know I’ll have to tell them soon. And what about Emma and Amy and Lucy? None of them have noticed, but they will one day, especially Amy. And I’m still not sure how I’m going to make it all seem okay. But I will. Somehow, I will.
Kevin clicks off the TV and turns to me. I still, surprised. ‘I’m sorry,’ he says, his voice a rasp I strain to hear. ‘I should have been there today.’
Now my jaw really does drop. ‘It’s okay.’
He shakes his head. ‘I’m letting you down, Heather. I’m letting you all down.’ He stares at the wall, his jaw clenched. ‘I know that.’
I hate to see his despair; it feels worse than my own. ‘It’s not your fault, Kev.’
‘Doesn’t matter.’ He struggles to sit upright. ‘I’m going to look for a job.’
‘Okay,’ I say cautiously. In three years this is the first time he’s ever said that, and it fills me with wary hope. I know Kev isn’t qualified for much, and what he is qualified for, he can’t do. But surely there’s something out there. There’s got to be, because I need a glimmer of light in the midst of all this darkness.
A couple of days later I’m in the kitchen making dinner when Stacy stops by to ask if I can check in on Mom and Dad tomorrow. It feels like an okay moment for once – the TV is off, and Kevin is sitting on the sofa with Amy and Emma, listening to Emma read a pony book she got from the school library. Lucy is on the floor, playing with her Paw Patrol set from Christmas – five bucks at Walgreens – and half-listening to Emma read.
The smell of meat and onion frying makes my stomach turn but it’s a good smell. A homely, family smell. I look around and I feel a flicker of contentment. This is what we used to have, what we took for granted, and now it feels so precious, simple as it is. Dinner, a home. Warmth and family. I yearn to hold onto it all.
Then Stacy comes in, says hello to all the girls, calling to me about needing me to help out with Mom and Dad. She stops in the doorway of the kitchen.
‘Heather.’
‘What?’ I turn, instantly self-conscious, because I’m over halfway through now and while the girls have managed not to notice, it’s getting kind of obvious when I’m not wearing a coat.
Stacy steps toward me and lowers her voice. ‘Are you pregnant?’ she whispers, with a glance back at Kevin and the girls in the other room.
I turn to the stove and prod the hamburger. ‘Yes. Obviously.’ Or not so obviously, to most people. Yet.
‘How far along are you? And why didn’t you say anything?’
‘I’m nineteen weeks. And I didn’t say anything because…’ I hesitate, glancing through the dining room to where Kev and the girls are all piled together on the sofa. Amy is starting to get bored and Lucy is throwing her Paw Patrol figures at the TV. ‘It’s not exactly great news, is it?’
Stacy swallows and looks at me seriously. ‘I know you guys have been having a hard time of it…’
I prod the hamburger some more. Stacy has no idea. She did everything in the right order – school, marriage, then babies. She works part-time at Stop & Shop and her husband Mike works in a garage. They have two kids, Jake and Kerryn, and they live a pretty middle-class kind of life, at least compared to us. Last year they even went to Disney World for a whole week.
‘We can’t afford it,’ I tell Stacy in a low voice. I stare at the hamburger, not wanting to see the pity on her face. She didn’t get knocked up by accident. She doesn’t have a husband who barely gets out of his La-z-Boy. Kev said he was going to look for a job, but he hasn’t yet. I try not to feel bitter, but it’s there, eating away at my insides, turning everything to acid. ‘We just can’t.’
Stacy is silent and I don’t look at her. I’m afraid she’s going to offer money she doesn’t have, money I can’t take because while she and Mike are doing better than us, they’re not doing that well. They can’t bail us out again and again, not the way we’d need.
‘I wish we could help,’ Stacy says at last. ‘If it really is just a question of money. But Mike…’ She pauses, biting her lip, and I turn to her.
‘Stace…?’
‘Mike’s been laid off. He’ll get another job, I know he will, but in the meantime…’ She shrugs.
‘I’m sorry.’ We’re not the only ones struggling. Of course we’re not. I always knew that, but it still surprises me to hear Stacy say it so starkly.
‘What are you going to do?’ she asks after a moment.
I take a quick breath. I didn’t want to tell her or anyone like this, with the kids and Kevin around, when things were happy for one beautiful second, but there’s no point pretending I haven’t decided when I know I have. ‘I’m not keeping it.’
‘Heather.’ My name is a gasp. ‘What…?’
‘Not that,’ I say quickly. ‘I’m – we’re – giving it up for adoption.’ I don’t like saying it, but speaking that way makes everything easier. It. A thing, a problem. And I’m solving it.
Stacy is silent, and I can feel her shocked disapproval crackling like a force field around her. She’s so quick to judge, and she’s my sister. What are other people going to say? Think?
‘Are you… are you sure that’s what you want to do?’
‘It’s not like we have a lot of choice, Stacy.’
‘But surely, if it’s just money…?’
It’s never just money. ‘It’s everything,’ I say. ‘It’s Kevin’s back, and me needing to work, and the size of our house.’ My words start to come faster and faster. ‘It’s Amy’s shoe and a stupid chicken and life feeling like an avalanche, things always toppling on top of us so we never have the chance to get out from under it.’ I blink rapidly. ‘I wish to God I could keep this baby somehow, that I could make it all work, but I’ve been trying and trying and nothing’s ever enough. And I know in my heart this is what I need to do, even if it tears me apart. Even if everyone I know thinks I’m a terrible person for giving away my baby.’
‘Heather—’
‘People will judge. You know that.’
She nods soberly, not pretending otherwise.
‘I don’t care,’ I say with a sniff. The hamburger is burning and I prod it again, poking the blackened bits. ‘This baby is going to have a good life, and my girls are going to have good lives. Isn’t that what matters, in the end?’
Stacy is silent, arms folded, shifting from foot to foot, clearly itching to tell me what to do, and what not to do. Typical older sister, she wants to boss me around. She marched me to school when we were little; she gave me her maternity clothes when I got pregnant with Amy. She has been my maid of honor, my best friend, and sometimes my enemy. She feels like all three right now.
‘Maybe,’ Stacy says at last, ‘but what are you going to tell people, Heather? Mom and Dad? Your kids?’
I swallow and stare at the browning meat. ‘The truth. That we can’t afford to give this baby the life it deserves.’ I turn around and fold my arms so we are having a staring standoff. ‘And someone else can. Someone who can’t have a baby and wants one very much.’ I believed Grace when she said that she did. I saw the intensity in her face, the sincerity.
Stacy blows out a breath, shaking her head. ‘So you just give the kid away.’
I blink, absorbing her harshness.
‘Sorry,’ she says, ‘but that’s how people are going to see it. You’d be better off telling people you’re being someone’s surrogate or something.’
‘Which I would do for money,’ I point out, and Stacy shrugs.
‘It’s different, though. And if you don’t make up some story like that, you’re right, people around here are going to judge you. They’re going to think you’re heartless, giving away your own baby.’
‘Or maybe just desperate.’
‘That, too.’ Stacy softens. ‘Heather, I know things have been tough but there’s got to be some way…’
‘Does there?’ The bitterness spills through, splashing over both of us. ‘I’ve stopped believing that.’ I pause, glancing at Kevin in the other room but he’s watching football. The girls are arguing over the Paw Patrol figures; even Emma wants them now. Typical. ‘Kev lost his workman’s comp a couple of weeks ago,’ I say quietly. ‘He had his hearing and they said he’s had maximum medical improvement.’
Stacy absorbs this for a moment. ‘So are they offering him a job?’
‘They don’t have anything for him. He’s been cleared for light duty, but they say there isn’t anything like that. He’s going on to permanent partial disability.’ Which is all of eighty-five dollars a week. ‘He’s looking for a job,’ I add, because I know what Stacy is thinking. Mike thinks it too, which is why we don’t see them all that much. They never say it, not exactly, but it’s there, pulsing between us, an accusation, a judgment. Kev is just lazy. He needs to get off his ass and find a job he can do with a bad back.
I know they’re thinking it because sometimes, when I let myself, I think it too. I’m trying not to think it now. ‘But it’s hard,’ I insist, before Stacy can say something I don’t want to hear. ‘There’s not much out there for someone like him.’
‘And if he gets a job? You guys could afford…’
‘No, we couldn’t,’ I cut across her. ‘And he doesn’t have a job yet.’ I don’t want to tell her about the eviction notice, the EBT card, how close we still are to losing everything. ‘Trust me on this, okay? I think I know my life better than you do.’
Stacy blows out a breath, looking exasperated. ‘You could use birth control, you know.’
I almost laugh. ‘Yeah, sure. A little late, but thanks for the tip.’
‘I’m sorry, Heather, it’s just…’ She stops, and I turn to face her, something hardening inside me.
‘It’s just what?’
‘You’re both such victims,’ Stacy bursts out. Out of the corner of my eye I see Amy look up, eyes narrowing as she strains to listen. ‘Everything bad happens to you because you let it. I’m not trying to be harsh, but you’ve got to help yourselves. Kevin needs to work. He should have gone back to work years ago, Heather. And you could retrain, get your high school diploma, whatever. You just stand in the road and let yourselves be run over by life, and I’m telling you, it doesn’t have to be that way.’
For a second I can’t speak, I’m so angry. I’m a victim? Me, who has been holding this family together for three years, clinging by my fingernails, a breath away from losing my grip, falling forever? Stacy has no idea.
‘I’m sorry,’ she says quietly, and I know she means it, that she regrets being so
harsh, but it’s not enough. I turn away from her, focus on our dinner. That flicker of contentment I felt? I can’t even remember what it feels like now.
Later, after Stacy has left and we’ve eaten dinner, I am cleaning up in the kitchen and Kevin comes in, moving slowly, a shuffling step I’ve got used to over the last three years.
‘You told Stacy.’
I glance toward the living room, but the girls are all in the tub. Kevin is supposed to be washing their hair and keeping an eye on Lucy.
‘She noticed. It’s getting obvious.’
‘I mean about this whole adoption thing.’
‘Yes.’
Kevin is silent and I scrub at a scorch mark on the pan. I can hear the girls splashing and laughing, and I picture all three of them crammed in our little olive-green tub, knees up by their elbows, blonde hair piled on top of their heads. Three little soapy angels.
‘So you’re really doing this.’
‘We’re doing it. You signed the paperwork, Kevin.’ I glance at him, trying not to look as accusing as I feel. As desperate. I want just one person in my life to give me a hug and say, ‘You know what? I get it. I understand why you’re doing this. I know how hard it must be, that it’s tearing you apart, but it will be okay eventually. I promise.’ But there’s no one. Not Kevin, not Stacy, not even Tina, who must see this situation ten times a day, and not my neighbors and friends when they find out.
I’m alone in this, and there’s nothing I can do about it. Maybe I am standing in the middle of the road like Stacy said, but I’m too tired to move. Does she know how that feels? To have everything ache all the time, so even the basics of life – cooking, laundry, loving my girls – feels like it sucks all my energy, all my being, down into a dark hole and there’s no way to climb out?
It feels like no one knows how alone I feel, and then I think of Grace. I remember the pain that flashed across her face as she told me about her dad, the lack of friends or family, her loneliness. A sudden wave of empathy washes over me. She really is alone, even more than I am.
From the bathroom someone screeches, and I tense, but then they erupt into laughter.
