Chapter 22 Liz
TWO WEEKS OLD
Liz watched Preston dote on baby Charlie, babbling to him about how cute he looked in his Lakers onesie as he picked him up for yet another father-son selfie.
Liz counted the number of times Preston kissed their son: one, two, three, four…
definitely more in a five-minute span than Preston had ever kissed her.
And then Liz felt like a husk of a person who was missing the right equipment.
Namely, a heart. What kind of mother was jealous of her own baby?
What kind of woman expected to be kissed and adored more—or as much—as a helpless newborn?
Liz felt her skin grow hot with shame. She was the woman in that movie about a prostitute turned serial killer that Charlize Theron had gained weight, looked ugly, and won an Oscar for. Because Liz was a monster.
Liz had thought she would immediately be flooded with an all-consuming love for her child.
That was the expectation. That’s what all the other mothers in Dawn’s class reported via the group chat.
The more Liz sifted through their gushing messages about the sublime nature of motherhood, the worse Liz felt about herself.
My whole entire heart. I didn’t know I could love like this.
In the hospital, Liz had felt like she was being introduced to a stranger who had just so happened to be living in her body for thirty-six weeks and then had stepped out of the door red-faced and furious over his eviction, which was rich given that he had absolutely destroyed the place.
When would she feel like her baby was the most beautiful, precious thing she had ever laid eyes upon?
Liz was pretty sure he looked like a potato.
“Is it okay if I take a shower?” Liz said.
Preston turned. “Yeah, of course. I got him.”
“Thanks.”
“Don’t I, buddy?” Preston said to Charlie. “We’re great, aren’t we, pal?”
Liz headed to the bathroom even though no amount of soap and water could fully wash away the smell of leaked breast milk.
Still, she took off her clothes, avoided looking at her still sore, puffy, and lumpy reflection in the mirror, and stood under the showerhead, letting the water crash down over her body.
Liz and Preston still hadn’t talked about their fight.
Despite Preston’s suggestion that they “circle back to it,” both of them had been nimbly avoiding a discussion of how Liz had concealed the news about her father.
Preston had been acting like everything was normal, checking to see what Liz wanted to Postmate for dinner, chatting up Gloria, the saint of a baby nurse Victoria had hired for them, and asking if Charlie looked like he had bicep muscles already.
Because Preston could’ve sworn he could detect some muscle definition, and he knew their son was going to be an athlete.
Liz had half-heartedly muttered something in the neighborhood of agreement and wondered if she had hallucinated the entire heated exchange between them.
Liz forced herself to get out of the shower, dried herself off, and went into her closet.
She picked up a pair of sweatpants from the floor—she was rotating between three pairs—and tugged them on, hoping they were relatively clean.
She strapped on a nursing bra, the least sexy piece of lingerie imaginable, and threw on a button-down shirt, which she had discovered allowed the easiest access for breastfeeding and had the added benefit of her not having to lift her shirt and expose the roll of flesh that hung over her waistband.
It wasn’t helping Liz’s mental state that she still looked five months pregnant.
No one was talking about that on the group chat.
She was about to put on some perfume, a last-ditch attempt to feel halfway human, when she remembered that women were supposed to avoid fragrances when they were nursing.
Liz applied some mascara instead, marking the first time she had put on makeup in weeks.
“You look nice!” Preston said when she walked back into Charlie’s room. “Going somewhere?”
“The hospital. To see Victoria, remember?”
Liz had told Preston at least three times that Victoria’s water had broken the night before, and rather than having a scheduled C-section on the appointed day, Victoria had nearly had her baby in the car on the way to the hospital.
“Oh yeah, of course,” Preston said.
Liz tried to decide whether Preston really was being irritating, or if everything he did would annoy her until he stopped avoiding the follow-up conversation they needed to have. Surely they couldn’t go on like this forever?
“It’s nice of Victoria to invite you to come to the hospital right away.”
“She’s my best friend,” Liz said. “And also my stepmom.” Liz watched Preston’s reaction closely. She had brought up the loaded topic that had started everything to begin with and wondered if this would shake something loose.
“Right,” Preston said, which was the equivalent of saying nothing.
“My dad’s going to be there too,” Liz said. “They’re trying to make things work.”
“Oh. Are you…cool with that?”
“I can’t avoid it forever,” Liz said. “If Victoria’s going to be in my life, then he is too, and maybe that’s not the worst thing in the world. Maybe it could even be good to get to know my dad.”
“Yeah, totally.” Preston bounced Charlie on his knee, prompting a contented sound from their newborn that sounded like a baby goat. Preston was a natural with babies—who would have thought? Then again, an infant didn’t require meaningful conversation.
“I should try to feed him,” Liz said. She and Preston should also talk, but maybe it would go better when he was ready (would he ever be ready?) or after Liz had gotten a few more decent nights of sleep thanks to Gloria.
So, she didn’t push it. She unbuttoned her shirt, then held out her arms for baby Charlie, who immediately began screaming in protest about the handoff.
Preston looked away, as if she were a stranger, as if Liz needed privacy, as if he had never seen her breasts before, as if they had gotten pregnant by having sex through a sheet.
When Gloria arrived, Liz felt guilty about how relieved she was to leave Charlie in her capable hands, and how thrilled she was in general to be away from her baby’s cries and needs.
The Uber ride to the hospital practically felt like a vacation.
Liz was still wearing sweatpants in public, but you couldn’t have everything.
At least she had showered that day and had made a reasonable effort with her appearance.
Liz stopped in the gift shop of Cedars to pick up some flowers for Victoria, wishing she had thought of it earlier so she could’ve gone to a nice florist’s shop or had come up with something better and more meaningful to bring.
Liz took the elevator up to the third floor, thinking that it was much nicer to enter Labor Liz saw herself in this gesture.
It was bizarre how you could not know someone at all and still be able to detect the strong throughline of genetics, how you could see parts of yourself in someone without knowing what made them tick, or what they thought about the most basic things.
“How’s Victoria?” Liz asked.
“She’s a champion. Humans would cease to exist if it were left up to men.
” Ace gave her a kind, fatherly smile. “I was glad to hear you were okay, Liz. I’d like to be a part of your life, but if that isn’t something you’re open to, I’ll make myself scarce when you and Victoria spend time together.
I don’t want to come between you two again.
I know how important your friendship is to her. ”