Extended Epilogue
Mason
Nine Months Later
I turned from the window, away from the sunlight beaming into the room, coating the gray floor tiles in gold. It was nearly sunset, and the sun peeked between the buildings across the street. It was a beautiful late September day. The leaves were just starting to change in Central Park. I had visions of taking Fia there soon, when she felt better, and walking her up and down the same trails we’d been walking every night for the last two weeks, but for an entirely different reason.
Fia’s soft sigh alerted me to her starting to wake up. Her hair was piled in a messy bun on the top of her head, her arms folded over her lap, tucked beneath a thick, hospital-issued blanket. She blinked into the dimmed fluorescent lighting, her eyes darting to the empty bassinet at her bedside.
“It’s okay,” I told her with a hoarse, wobbling voice. “She’s right here, with me. Daddy’s got her.”
“Oh,” Fia croaked, swallowing hard as she settled back against the pillows. “That scared me. I’m used to her being right here.” She pointed at her stomach.
“We’ll find you a cheeseburger to fill the hole,” I said.
She shook her head and closed her eyes. “A cheeseburger could never replace our baby. Although I wouldn’t say no to some fries.”
I smiled softly, cradling our daughter in my arms. We hadn’t named her yet. In fact, we’d spent the last nine months debating the perfect one. I watched my wife shift her position in bed, uncomfortable, growing weary of being in the hospital, surrounded by white walls and the astringent smell of disinfectant.
She’d had a rough go of it the last few days. I would unfortunately never be able to scrub the terrified look on her face from my mind when her doctor told her she needed a C-Section. I’d been scared, too. I felt absolutely helpless as I held her hand, kneeling at her side, promising her it would be okay, that they’d both be okay.
The moment the curtain lowered and we saw our daughter for the first time, seeing Fia’s tears of joy, of disbelief, had been the happiest moment of my life.
I rose and walked to her, laying our baby in her arms before adjusting her bed so she could sit up. “I actually am starving,” she said.
“I ordered food from that Italian place you mentioned,” I said, turning on the wall-mounted TV across the room. “It should be here soon.”
Her answering smile worked its way through my body, giving me a sense of relief I hadn’t felt since yesterday, when our unnamed daughter finally made her appearance after doing everything in her power to stay right where she was, warm and cozy inside of my horribly uncomfortable wife, with no plans to make her grand entrance on her own terms.
Stubborn already. I couldn’t help but smile at what she might be like two or three years from now.
“Hi, honey. Good afternoon. You’ve been sleeping with Daddy all day, haven’t you?” Fia ran her fingertips over the baby’s perfect round, pink cheeks. “She looks like you, Mason.”
“Does she?” I walked toward them, sitting on the edge of the bed. “I don’t see it.”
“She’s going to have your eyes. They’re already the same shape.”
I could readily admit that holding the baby felt like carrying around a live bomb. It had been the best and most nerve-wracking experience, holding her in my arms for the first time. She was so delicate, so fresh. She felt so small in my hands, but seeing her with Fia, I was reminded that she was not a small baby when she was born.
“Ten pounds?” Fia’s mom had gasped early this morning when they visited us, bringing a breakfast feast that ended up being enough food to share with some of the nurses working in the unit.
“She’s gonna be tall,” her dad gushed, pride shining in his eyes as he kissed Fia on the forehead. His daughter had her own daughter now. I could feel the emotions radiating off of him without him needing to say a word.
Colin and Liv had visited together, which didn’t escape our notice. Colin brought balloons and Liv sobbed as she embraced Fia and the baby.
Since yesterday afternoon, when Colin snitched and let the entire company know that my daughter had finally made her overdue arrival, flowers had been rushing in, giant bouquets delivered every half hour or so like clockwork. Employees, investors, and board members alike sent their well wishes and congratulations. Heather Schuyler hand delivered a beautiful care basket full of luxury items for both Fia and the baby, which included the Gucci cashmere pajamas Fia currently wore, and of course, a real silver spoon for our daughter, which I planned to hide whenever we got home.
“She needs a name, Mason,” Fia said softly, looking up at me. “What are we going to do? Why is it so hard to decide?”
“We could go back to the list again.”
“I hate every name on the list,” she argued.
“You didn’t hate them a few months ago.”
“Nothing suits her.” She sighed heavily, shaking her head.
“How about Madeline?”
“No.”
“Kimberly?”
She made a face, shaking her head.
I thought hard and deep, trying to conjure the perfect name for our perfect baby. “Juniper.”
“Like what you use to make gin?”
“Is this the hunger talking?” I risked the comment but made sure to give her a loving look. It didn’t work.
Fia huffed a breath, tilting her head from side to side. Then, an idea struck her. I saw it light behind her eyes. “Alba.”
“Grandma would roll over in her grave if I named my daughter Alba.”
“That was her name, though.”
I shook my head. “She never went by Alba.”
“What did she go by?” I could see the gears turning behind her eyes.
“Grandma.” But Grandpa always called her Allie. “Or Allie.”
I looked at my wife and daughter, watching the way the baby fit perfectly in Fia’s arms. How’d I ever deserve this? I guessed it didn’t matter now. They were mine, and would always be mine, and I was the luckiest man on the planet.
“Allie,” Fia smiled, running a knuckle over her cheek. Whether by reflex or in approval of the new moniker, the baby gave us a brief ghost of a smile before relaxing back into adorable sleep. “Did you see that?”
“I did.”
Fia gently set her in my arms. I rose, walking back to the window, testing out the name. “Allie, Allie, Allie. I like it.”
“I think it’s her name.”
I nodded. “Yeah, I think you’re right.”
A knock sounded on the door, three thumps that broke up the silence.
I looked up from Allie’s face as my parents quietly walked in, my mom trembling with excitement she couldn’t quite contain. She took one look at me holding her granddaughter and fought back tears, turning to Fia and mouthing her congratulations and excitement so as to not wake the baby up. She hugged Fia gently as Dad walked into the room, fighting for his life behind a cascade of pink balloons and a huge bouquet of flowers.
“I love you, sweetheart,” Mom crooned, tearfully kissing Fia on the forehead. “How are you feeling? We brought food from the Italian place you two like.”
“Now you’re talking.” Fia laughed, squeezing Mom’s arms in hello. “I just created a life. Mama is hungry.”
I was looking at my dad. He spent a solid minute arranging the flowers and balloons on a counter across the room before turning to us, like he had needed a moment to gather himself.
Mom left Fia’s side to come up to me, carefully inspecting Allie with silent tears of joy rolling down her face. Dad moved in on Fia, smiling down at her as he bent to kiss each of her cheeks, whispering something I couldn’t hear over Mom’s choked sobs.
“She’s just perfect,” Mom said, sucking in her breath. “She’s so big! Fia, you poor thing. Mason did the exact same thing to me.”
“You did warn me.” Fia laughed and looked absolutely radiant. I didn’t think she’d ever looked more beautiful than she did right then.
“She’ll be tall,” Mom continued. “Lucky girl.” Mom, the top of her head barely reaching my sternum, beamed up at me.
“Do you want to hold—”
“Yes,” she said abruptly, cutting me off. She quickly darted to the sink and began vigorously washing her hands while Dad unpacked the food and arranged it on the swiveling table for Fia. While he did, Fia wrestled a breadstick loose from a styrofoam container and tore into it like a grizzly bear. Even with her cheeks stuffed full of garlicky bread, she was everything I ever wanted.
Dad kept fussing with her bed so she was sitting straight up. He opened a bottle of sparkling water and poured it into the massive, hospital order cup with what Fia called, “the good ice.” I watched him with interest. He was taking care of her, fluttering around her like a little bird. It warmed my chest and mended something I hadn’t realized had been broken.
Mom took a seat next to the bed and excitedly accepted the baby into her waiting arms, screwing up her face to stop a fresh torrent of tears from dripping on her grandchild.
The next several minutes passed in quiet conversation. Mom gushed over the baby, talking about future warm, summer days spent at the zoo or the park. Fia ate her food, blissfully chatting with my mom like they were old friends, and in a way, they were. Fia was like the daughter she never had, and they loved each other. My mom and Fia’s mom got lunch together in the city every week, and Dad had even played golf with Fia’s dad a few times over the past year.
Allie was the bridge between our two families, the glue binding us together.
I was hungry too, but I wasn’t about to take anything away from Fia. She needed her strength. I rose from the less-than-comfortable chair I’d been sitting on for most of the past day and mumbled something about hitting the vending machine down the hall. Footsteps echoed out behind me.
Dad followed me into the hallway and didn’t say a word until we reached the small “family room” at the very end of the unit. It smelled like coffee and stale tea but had a few tables and chairs, a microwave, and vending machines selling sandwiches and snacks.
Dad poured himself a cup of coffee while I scanned the vending machine.
“Is she all right?” Dad asked in a low, choked voice.
His tone caught me off guard. “Fia? Yeah, they’re both fine. It was a rocky night but yeah, we’re all doing okay.”
He nodded, then shook his head a bit. “I’m sorry you both had to go through that.”
“It happens all the time.” At least, I thought. I’d been a dad for a little over twenty-four hours. What did I know?
Dad looked nervous, though, like he was holding back how he actually felt. I rolled my lower lip between my teeth and walked over to him, leaning against the counter beside him. “Thank you for being here and for picking up the food.”
Dad shook his head again, turning his paper cup in his hands. Then he looked at me, his eyes shining with emotion I’d never seen from him before.
“I’m proud of you, son.”
I was stunned. He pulled me in for a hug that I returned, of course.
“Do you want to know her name?” I asked. It felt like a stupid question. Of course he’d want to know his own granddaughter’s name.
Dad laughed. “Wow, I didn’t realize we hadn’t even asked. Your mom was so excited to just get here and see Fia and the baby. It slipped our minds. What is it?”
“We’re naming her Allie.”
Dad’s eyes went wide. “For Grandma.”
“Yeah.” Tears stung my eyes as he pulled me into another hug.
“Excellent choice.”