Reunion

She began to cry, knowing there was no stopping it, painlike a locomotive pulling, pulling the baby on to its real life,its better life. She wanted that for this child, this unintendedeffect of too much fun, too little thought—same as its motherhad been, and its aunt. She wanted this child to have intentional parents, who would make its life everything that hershadn’t been.

“Happy accidents” was what her mother had liked to callher and her sister, even after they had little to be happy about.When the girls reached puberty, the refrain became, “Just don’timagine I’d be able to raise yours. We can barely affordourselves and, though God knows I try, I am not as capableas my mother.” That would be their grandmother, Kate, who’dhelped raise them. Until she died, and then they’d had to forthe most part raise themselves.

“Oh my god, oh my god.” Bat leaned over to watch thebaby emerging, still squeezing her friend’s hand. “Oh my god!You did it! Jesus! Check him out! It’s a boy!”

A son. Good. Everyone wanted a son. He’d be especially lovedby his parents. He was from questionable stock, but the adoptingparents didn’t care. It was enough for them that he be whiteand healthy—he was healthy, just look at him, listen to thatcry!—and free of complications. Meredith had assured her thatthis way was best, no strings for any of them. As soon as theadoption paperwork was filed and finalized, the original birthcertificate would be sealed away, accessible only by court order.She would own her future again, free and clear, as if he hadnever happened. No strings, no trail.

Meredith would be back later, and tomorrow, and again,if needed, in the weeks to come. Post-partum was the wordshe’d used. Any trouble and Harmony Blue was to call thenumber she’d called when her labor began, and Meredithwould come. “If it isn’t an emergency, don’t go to the ER,”the midwife had said.

Bat had nodded as though she, too, was wise, and said,“Not unless you want to have to answer a lot of questions.”

She didn’t. Not any. Ever.

“Not unless she wants to wait all day,” Meredith said.

Now Meredith held the baby up, one hand beneath hisbuttocks, one beneath his head. “Do you want to hold him?”

“I do!” Bat said.

Harmony Blue struggled to sit upright. The pain was ashadow now, the way her belly was a shadow of what it hadbeen just moments before. Her belly. Round but no longerbulging. A cantaloupe instead of a watermelon, and why wasshe thinking of fruit? Would the tiny thing, sputtering therein the midwife’s hands, that red-faced creature with blooddrying on his newborn skin, would he love fruit the way shedid? Would his parents one day tempt him with fresh pineappleand find he took to it like a duck to bugs? Her grandma, Kate,had always said that, like a duck to bugs.

Would he have her brown eyes, her slender fingers? Wouldhe love to play Scrabble the way she once had? Before, in thatother life that now seemed as far away as Sirius. Sirius wasthe brightest star, the most hopeful point of light in the sky.She had wished on it so often. Had begun, for a time, tobelieve she’d been heard.

“Yes, I’ll hold him,” she said. Meredith cut the umbilicalcord and tied it off. She squeezed drops into the infant’s eyes,then wrapped him in a pale yellow receiving blanket andhanded him into her arms. He continued to sputter, but itwas a half-hearted noise, as if he knew some sound wasexpected but really didn’t want to make any further fuss. He’dbe a good baby, she could tell already.

When the placenta was out and the contractions hadsubsided, stitches were put in, plastic bags filled and tied andplaced in the cardboard box that Meredith had put by thedoor. Meredith picked up the box and left the room, sayingshe’d be back in a few minutes. “We’ll do the paperwork, andthen … I’ll be needing to go.”

After the door closed, Bat smoothed the baby’s damp hairand traced his eyebrows with one finger. “You have to keephim. Don’t you want to keep him? God, he’s so … I don’tknow. I mean, wow!”

Harmony Blue recognized the feverish look in her friend’seyes. Speed, probably. She looked away, back to the purity, theinnocence of the tiny boy in her arms. “He deserves better.”

Meredith had quizzed her on her drug use when they’d mettwo months ago. How often? How much? She had backed offonce she realized she was pregnant, she truly had, even asshe’d still felt the need to disappear from herself. “Not toomuch,” was the answer she’d given Meredith, “and nothingreally, you know, bad.” Nothing from a needle. She’d heardof AIDS, she said—only to have Meredith look at her sideways.

“You know about AIDS, but not condoms?”

Guilty.

The baby seemed to be studying her. What did he see? Washer face, with its narrow nose and wide mouth and olive skinthat tanned so quickly, being stored in his memory, so that ifhe saw her one day he would know? Would she know him?Not that such a meeting would happen: the adopting parents,whom she’d spoken with twice before making her decision,lived far from Chicago. They said they were West Coast peoplewho had tried every fertility treatment medical science hadto offer. They seemed caring and kind—she’d thought so evenjust seeing the Polaroid Meredith had given her before they’dspoken, anonymously of course. Meredith the matchmaker.To the couple, she had given two photos of Harmony Blue: aclose-up and a side view—to prove she was seven monthsalong, she supposed. At forty and forty-three, the parents-to-bewere a little older than she might have chosen, all thingsconsidered—but that was why they were using a law firm,and Meredith: no agency would approve them. They hadmoney though, so why not use it to help out a troubled youngwoman and fulfill their single most important dream? Theircompassion and their money meant this child would neversuffer for her weakness.

She whispered to him, “Never.”

They’d told her to take her time deciding—at least a dayor two after the birth, so she would be sure she was makingthe right choice for her, and them. But, having finally madeher decision, she’d told Meredith she wanted to get it overwith quickly. She was strong, but not that strong.

Soon the front door opened again. She could see Meredithshake out her umbrella then pull it inside and prop it by thedoor. Terrible weather for a first trip out into the world, butchildren were resilient, her grandmother had always saidso.

Wiping her shoes, Meredith reached into her trench coat’sright pocket. She crossed the front room and came into thebedroom, saying, “Where do you want me to put this?”

The envelope was so fat that a rubber band had to bindit. All twenties? The baby pushed a foot against her ribs reflexively, same as he’d done for months, only on the inside.

She shook her head. “I told you: no money.”

“And I told you, you need it. Take it.” Meredith’s eyes weresympathetic. “Consider it payment for the hard work you justdid for this family. Consider it a scholarship fund.”

“Take it,” Bat said.

She kissed the baby’s downy head, letting her lips linger asif to imprint herself on him. He wouldn’t remember her, notreally. Thank God he wouldn’t. Except in some quiet piece ofhis soul, where he would know she loved him.

“Have them start a savings account, with the money.”

Meredith came over and squatted next to her. “He’ll havea savings account already. And everything else he needs. Don’tbe foolish.”

“Too late.”

Meredith watched her for a moment, then sighed and putthe money in her pocket. “We’ll talk about it again later. Let’sdo the paperwork.”

She would not remember, in the years to come, much ofwhat was on the forms she signed. She would rememberinstead the warm weight of the infant in the crook of herarm, the vision she conjured of the new parents’ joy whenMeredith delivered the baby for the second time.

Meredith tucked the papers into a folder and set them aside.She asked Bat, “Do you want to go over the care instructionsonce more?”

“No, it’s cool, both of you can count on me.”

“All right then,” Meredith said, turning back to the girl.“Supplies are in the bag. I’ll check on you later tonight. Meanwhile, use cold packs for your breasts if needed, and Tylenolevery four hours. You’ll be sore all over—”

“I know. Take him.”

Meredith reached for her free hand, held it while she said,“Now I know what you told me, and I know we’ve signed theforms, but until I leave you can still change your—”

“Take him.”

“All right then,” Meredith said, reaching for the child. “It’sa good decision. I want you to know that.”

She could only nod.

Empty. Her arms, her belly. Now, quickly, she had to emptyher mind, too, or be destroyed. Teeth clenched, she watchedMeredith diaper the infant, watched her wrap him in a heavierblanket and put a cap on his head, watched her put him toher shoulder, watched her grab the file and leave the roomand grasp the front door’s knob. Meredith didn’t look back;she’d done this before.

The door closed, and it was over.

Part I (#u16723e4b-046e-5242-b128-b579a8e9c660)

I do not like the man who squanders life for fame; giveme the man who living makes a name.

Emily Dickinson

Chapter One (#u16723e4b-046e-5242-b128-b579a8e9c660)

Present Day

In Chicago, the snow was falling so hard that, although quite a few pedestrians saw the woman standing on the fire escape nine stories up, none were sure they recognized her. At first the woman leaned against the railing and looked down, as if calculating the odds of death from such a height. After a minute or two, though, when she hadn’t climbed the rail but had instead stepped back from it, most people who’d noticed her continued on their ways. She didn’t look ready to jump, so why keep watching? And how about this snow, they said. What the hell? It wasn’t supposed to snow like this in spring!