Chapter 9 #2
My mother leveled a gaze on me that said, Are you really going there?
I could feel her worrying, just as she had about my loneliness, my isolation, my sadness—these years since Liv had been gone.
Except that this seemed like the kind of worry a mother feels when she believes her son is thinking with other parts of his anatomy instead of his brain.
“That’s usually the case for a family member when children need immediate placement because it’s best to place them with someone they already know and love.
In this case, even if we tried to fast-track you, our reasons are weak.
The mother handed the baby over to you, but as a health care worker, not as the person she wanted to care for her baby.
There’s really no reason that you’re a preferred choice. ”
“Yes, there is,” Ani insisted. “I delivered her. I promised her mother I would look out for her.”
“But she could have handed her over to any health care worker in the hospital. She had no special relationship with you. We need to find someone who can take the baby immediately. Every day that baby stays in the hospital without truly needing medical care is costly.”
“I see. I understand.” Ani paused. I could practically see her brain on fire, thinking, pondering, trying to figure this out. “Thank you,” she said, then turned to me. “Thanks for meeting me here. I’ll see you this week. I work in the ER Wednesday.”
“Let me walk you out,” I said.
“I’ll be fine.” Dale had gathered his coat and was on his way out too, and Ani hurriedly caught up with him.
As she walked down the hall, my mother and I had a staring contest. It felt like that time when I was thirteen and I’d decided that I was going to play guitar, stop doing my homework, and join a rock band.
She opened her mouth to speak, but suddenly Ani was back, leaning over the counter to talk to her again.
“Look, Daria, one more thing before I go. I know you don’t know me.
But I—I believe in fate. For some reason, I was put there, in that moment, to deliver that baby into the world.
And what I want might be unconventional and unorthodox, but I’m a great candidate for a lot of reasons. ”
She proceeded to enumerate them. Enthusiastically, I might add.
“I have a great job. I have resources. I have enthusiasm. I work hard. I already know CPR and First Aid, don’t drink—well, much—or do drugs.
Unless you count caffeine. And yes, I’m single, but I understand what I’m getting into.
I just—I just want to try. I want to present my case. I’m as worthy as anyone else.”
“I will present your case,” my mother said evenly. “That’s all I can promise.”
“Thank you.” Ani turned to me. “Bye, Adam.”
“Bye, Ani.” I watched her walk down the hall and, this time, off the ward.
It felt like the silence after a hurricane blows through.
When I glanced at my mother, she was staring at me. “We have to talk.”
“What on earth is going on between you two?” my mother demanded. “And I’m not just asking for fun.”
As I pulled up a stool, sat down, and crossed my arms, I understood what she was asking. My mother had been a social worker for thirty-five years. She knew people. She had influence. “I’m not sure,” I wavered.
She tossed up her hands. “I have no idea what that means.” She wanted conviction, a yes or a no.
Mental snapshots ran through my mind, from last summer through now.
I’d been coasting on the Ani train ever since, being pulled—mostly pleasantly, I had to admit—into whatever drama happened to be going on with her.
But this—this was not a weeping-almost-bride-on-a-plane scenario.
Or an attractive woman who needed a friend in a tropical island paradise.
This involved a little person. This was life-altering.
This was something that only a crazy person or a saint would take on.
Gandhi. Mother Teresa. Malala.
I realized that even now that I’d been essentially a spectator. Noncommittal. I hadn’t even asked myself the hard questions about how I really felt about Ani.
I didn’t know her favorite food, her favorite color, or her favorite book.
But, I realized with a start, I knew her heart.
And I couldn’t use my grief, my sadness, or my complete ineptitude at trying to move on with my life as an excuse not to get involved.
Ani was driven by some superpower that most humans didn’t have. And I was in awe of it.
“You met this woman on a plane?” my mom asked.
I slowly nodded. “She’d just put a stop her wedding, and she somehow ended up on the plane alone for her honeymoon trip.”
“Her parents are powerful donors,” my mom said. “And I’ve heard people talk about that wedding. The expense. The catastrophe. Sounds like the parents didn’t take the embarrassment well. But I won’t judge them.”
I barely heard her as I tapped a pen on the counter, trying to think. Who was powerful enough and might help Ani get credentialed or make an exception? As head of the ER, I had connections too. But not ones like the tiny but mighty woman in front of me.
“I see that doe-eyed expression,” my mother said. “I know you want to help her. How badly?”
She was asking me—okay, forcing me—to take a stand. To beseech her to intervene on Ani’s behalf.
I was doe-eyed?
“I mean, she was a wreck.” I continued telling the story. I just wasn’t sure how much I wanted to tell. “And all alone. I checked on her and made sure she ate and we—we spent some time together.” And that was all I was going to say. Period.
My mom lifted a questioning brow but didn’t ask anything more. “She’s obviously sincere. But is she impulsive?”
“She’s bighearted. Helen Rubenstein, the senior partner in her group, speaks very highly of her.
Says she’s well trained. Has great leadership qualities.
The other night when she was working with me, she was nervous about delivering the baby by herself, but she did a great job.
” My mind wandered off. “She likes dogs. She brings medical journals and romance novels with her to work. She hates Bloody Marys. She—”
“Oh, Adam.” My mom was shaking her head. “I don’t need the dating-app version.” She assessed me carefully. “You slept with her, didn’t you?”
That was the thing about having a social worker mom.
She never hesitated to talk to me openly about birth control, about sex.
About anything. I was certain the color of my face answered her question, so I moved on.
“I’ve never met anyone who wasn’t afraid to consider a huge, life-changing possibility like this.
Most medical staff would simply be happy that you showed up to take the responsibility for this baby’s future. You understand what I’m saying?”
She reached over and put her hand over mine so that I stopped tapping the pen. “I haven’t seen you this invested in anything for a long time.” She got a little teary, from relief or from worry, I wasn’t sure.
“If you’re asking me if we’re romantically involved, I would say I’m one hundred percent not looking for a serious relationship. And I’m definitely not looking to be a sudden parent.”
“If she gets the baby, what happens? Do you want to date her? Are you open to the possibility of dating someone with a newborn?”
I sat forward and tented my fingers together. “I’m not sure I can even bear being around a baby, to be honest. I’m just—not ready. Not for a baby. And not for a real relationship.” I glanced up at my mom. “I’ve told her that—about the relationship.”
She sighed. “Yet you think she should have the baby.”
I knew what my mother was doing. She was weighing how important Ani was to me. Because my mother would do anything to help me start living my life again.
And that’s what I was afraid of. Because, like Ani, my mother had superpowers too. She’d been a single mom raising me since after my dad took off when I was one. And much like Ani, she never hesitated to step in when there was a need.
“I know what you’re thinking,” I said. “It’s too much. You’re literally a day from retirement.”
Now my mother crossed her arms. “Do you want her to have the baby, yes or no?”
My mom had fostered several babies when I was in college. But she’d said she’d never do it again because letting go tore out her heart.
“This isn’t fair to you. I could help, but I couldn’t handle being hands-on with the baby.” I looked at my mother. “I’m being honest. There’s got to be another way to do this.”
“Well, I appreciate knowing your feelings,” she said. “But what’s the answer?”
Honestly, I hadn’t made many choices about anything these past two years, except to take the Oak Bluff job and buy the only affordable house on the market.
She was still waiting for my answer. “Okay, fine. Yes, I want her to have the baby.” Suddenly, something unfastened inside of me.
I couldn’t really describe it, except to say that it was like the feeling when you unloosen your shoes at the end of a long day.
Put sweatpants on. Or the moment at night when your head hits the pillow, and you finally let go of the day.
Ani would be a great mother for this baby. I knew it.
Strange, because I’d just created a boatload of complications for my mother, not to mention for myself. I vowed to help however I could.
“Then what are you still sitting there for?” My mother gave me an Are-you-sure-you’re-smart-enough-to-be-a-doctor? look. “Go get her.”
Ani
I was headed off the elevator and halfway down the glass-bridged corridor that connected the hospital to the parking deck when I heard footsteps behind me.
I startled a little and turned to find Adam running toward me.
“I thought you were going to walk out with Dale,” he said, a little out of breath.
“Because there’s so much crime in Oak Bluff.” I rolled my eyes and hit the big square button that opened the sliding glass doors to the parking deck.
Then I had a terrible thought—maybe he didn’t follow me to be chivalrous. “Oh, my God, Adam. Did something happen to the baby?”
“No, no, nothing like that. My mother—my mom has an idea. You need to come back with me and talk with her.”
“An idea? About the baby?” My emotions over the past hour had ping-ponged all over the place, from desperate to hopeful to completely hopeless.
What he’d just said spiked them all the way back up again into the promising range.
I seized his arm. Despite the chaos, I felt how hard it was, how corded the muscle.
He was such a complicated man, but so good-hearted, even though he tended to hide it. Which complicated everything even more.
“What is it?” I asked. “What’s the idea?”
He gripped my forearms. Again, I had the sense of cautiously restrained power.
Strong but gentle. Such a contrast from the Don’t-eat-pizza-behind-the-desk Adam who ran the ER.
Who was this man who’d come running after me at midnight? Who didn’t seem to think I was crazy to want that baby.
Well, at least not too crazy.
“I’ll let her tell you everything. It’s the nuclear option. She would foster the baby—if Children’s Services agrees—until you could take over.”
“Wait—your mother would take the baby?” I stared at him. She, a woman whom I barely knew, would take the baby until I potentially could?
“You’d have to negotiate the arrangements with her. I know you’ll keep in mind that her retirement begins on Monday.”
“Of course. But wh-why would she do that? She doesn’t even know me.” I was tearing up—again. “You did this. You convinced her.” There was no other explanation.
“No, I didn’t.” He held up his hands. Really. It wasn’t me.” He turned a little red, which told me everything. “Listen, this may or may not work. But it’s your best shot.”
He’d intervened for me, and he wasn’t even taking credit. I started to flat-out cry. Right there on the bridge, I jumped straight into his arms and squeezed him tight.
I felt his hands slide around my waist. I felt him pull me in. I felt his muscle, and all of me remembered all of him. And it was all too much.
I pulled back and searched his face. He looked serious.
And a little worried. It occurred to me that he’d been caught up in all of this.
That I’d been thinking a lot about myself and what I wanted and not about anyone else.
“Why did you do this?” I asked in a hoarse whisper. “We barely know each other.”
“That doesn’t matter. What matters is that you want to give this baby a life. So go for it.”
“Adam, I can’t thank you enough. I’ll hire someone to help your mom watch the baby while I’m at work. I’ll do the nights. I swear I’ll do everything I can to make this easy on her.”
“She’s a lot like you, but I worry about her. Taking care of a baby is a lot—for both of you.”
I took up his hand. “I understand.” I paused. “All of this has been a lot. I just wanted to say that I don’t expect—”
He cut me off. “I haven’t done anything I didn’t want to do.”
“Please let me finish. I need you to know that I don’t expect you to get involved with any of this. I’m not looking for love or a relationship or a sudden baby daddy or anything like that. But I-I’m so grateful for what you’ve done.”
He smiled. “That’s what friends do.”
I realized right then, with a little bit of melancholy, that friendship was all he could give.
All he was capable of giving. In this wild situation, that was a lot, I told myself.
He’d given me the kindest, most generous gift of all—his belief in me.
And that is what I would accept. And try not to want more.