Maggie
Vicky would roll her eyes, and their mother would scold Chip. “I think she sounded great.”
“Well, good thing I’m here then,” Chip said.
“I should be, shouldn’t I?” Vicky would reply, and they’d laugh.
She hangs up and wishes she could write back to Vicky. What would she say? I hope you’re okay, too. I hope you’re getting by, too. I hope our giant loss, the roof being lifted from our shared house, letting in rain and snow and wild animals, hasn’t ruined you.
She stays there for a second, and outside the window she sees Nancy walking by.
She feels dizzy for a second as she gets closer to the window.
Nancy is pushing a stroller with the baby inside.
Nancy stops and adjusts the visor so the sun’s not in his eyes.
Then she crouches in front of him and tickles his leg and says something, her face lighting up, the baby kicking.
Maggie’s heart. Her heart. She imagines Nancy feeling Chip’s forehead if she knew he was sick, holding his hand. My goodness, she is beautiful. Like a James Bond woman, totally Chip’s type.
But whose baby is it?
She looks at the pay phone again, looks at the television, and Mister Rogers is on.
Her friend Sally’s little brother used to like to watch Mister Rogers’ Neighborhood, and she and Sally would end up entranced by the way Fred Rogers explained the world: a trip to the market, a walk around a tree farm.
Now he is in a workshop where they are making thread, and Maggie glances out the window, and sees Nancy dangling toy keys above the baby and laughing.
Mister Rogers’s voice relaxes her. After he teaches his audience, his neighbors, about flax turning into linen thread, he is back at the house, where Mr. McFeely, the mailman, shows him two small frogs.
Maggie thinks she should tell Nancy to come in and watch this with the baby.
Who wouldn’t enjoy that gentle, calming voice?
Is it Nancy’s baby? Maggie has to ask Bridget, who must know. Or Paige. And then the TV cuts to commercial, and a woman is standing holding a bottle of Palmolive and pointing it at the camera, and Maggie starts to feel unsettled.
Tiger.
No. There’s zero way. She feels adrenaline racing inside her, her heart beating faster. She almost feels like her vision gets sharper for a second.
She races toward the door, and she thinks nothing’s ever been this urgent.