27. Lucy
27
LUCY
L ife becomes a weird, happy dream.
Court and I decide Matilda is happy enough between her time in the apartment and on the balcony. He sets up a service to have a new shrub delivered every few days for her to eat, and we replace the diaper contraption’s liners with proper compostable bags.
So, he tells Devin not to worry about finding another farm.
On Monday, Court goes to work. I take care of Matilda, milk her, and make goat cheese and soap. It’s an easy walk to the spa to give it to Kaliyah.
I take Court a homemade lunch most days since the office is close enough to walk if I’m feeling good, or an inexpensive Uber if I’m feeling tired.
I get to know Joe and Penny from I.T. and Dawn from merchandizing. I take them cookies for their departments and make sure Court comes around and smiles once in a while. We organize a company pizza lunch for Friday, and I set to making dozens of cookies for the desserts.
Our nights are filled with leisurely dinners and long nights of learning all the ways a pregnant woman can comfortably have sex.
There are many.
I’ve never known anything like this.
When I’m home alone, I let April and Summer know things are going well. They’re excited for me and glad Court is so much less salty than before.
I know it can last. I’m sure of it.
I hear from Stanley at his emporium, and he also places an order for goat cheese. He’s uptown, so Court goes with me on Wednesday afternoon to deliver it.
His emporium is a glorified tourist trap near Times Square, full of kitschy objects like a bedazzled Statue of Liberty and foam fingers that read USA.
He sits behind the register in a funny red-striped apron with his emporium logo emblazoned on it. His face lights up when he sees me.
“Lucy and her goat! Where’s your goat?”
We head to the counter. “She’s in her happy place at the moment,” I say, setting down the waxy paper package. “But I have her cheese!”
Stanley presses both hands on it. “Oooh, I can’t wait to tear into this. When did you make it?”
“Milked her this morning and made the cheese a few hours ago.”
He lets out a long sigh. “It doesn’t get any fresher than that.” Then he notices Court. “Is this the one you were headed toward on the subway that day?”
I glance at Court, who is sizing up the man with a sour expression I know well. I elbow him. “It is. We worked everything out.”
Stanley accepts Court’s glare with a beady-eyed stare of his own. “You take care of this young lady and her goat, or you’ll hear from me.”
Yikes. I’m not sure how Court will take that, but I’m surprised when he sticks out his hand in greeting. “I absolutely will, sir.”
They shake. “He’s all right by me, Lucy,” Stanley says, releasing Court to turn to his register. It opens with a ringing chime. “And here you go for your cheese.” He passes me cash. “I’ll be asking for more, but you might be busy by then.” He waves at my belly. “Whatcha got left? A couple weeks?”
“Eleven days until the due date. We have a sonogram tomorrow.” I take Court’s hand. “We’re going to confirm the gender.”
“Happy days. I remember those. I got two kids. Jeb and Johnny.” He thumbs at two young men in their early twenties, one sitting on a stool, and the other unpacking a box of New York commemorative spoons.
“They work for you!” I say, stealing a quick glance at Court to make sure he’s not triggered by more evidence of family job expectations.
“Just till they finish college.” Stanley sniffs in annoyance. “If I don’t fire them for incompetence first.”
I’m not sure how to respond to that, but I’m saved when the front door jingles and a flood of people come in.
“Four forty-five tour bus, right on the money,” Stanley says. “Got to do shoplifting patrol. I’ll be seeing you.” He pulls a small stuffed bear with a red, white, and blue T-shirt out of the bin next to the register. “For the kid. Good luck.”
I hold the teddy bear to my chest. “Thank you, Stanley.” I know it’s just a random bear from a tourist store, but it’s the first gift I’ve been given specifically for the baby.
Outside, the sidewalk is thick with people headed home from work.
“Is it really only eleven days?” Court asks.
“Give or take a week,” I say. “First babies are often late.”
“You don’t have anything. No clothes. No bottles. No diapers.” He seems stunned, like he’s putting all this information together in his head. “We should be assembling a crib, getting a swing. Do they still make swings? We’ll need a high chair. And baby food. And those weird nubby things they put in their mouths.”
I wrap my arms around one of his. “Hey, I’m simple. My baby will be simple. A few cloth diapers. Some onesies and soft blankets. I’ll be breastfeeding, and that’s all he’ll need at first. I’ll learn how to create a baby wrap from a long cloth. I bet I can even use a sheet.”
He stops dead. “Is that how you want to parent? Minimally?”
“Why not? Millions of babies were born and raised without fancy rocking machines or sterilizers or designer all-terrain strollers.”
“But don’t those things make it easier?”
“I don’t mind hard.”
Two costumed buskers head for us to offer pictures, so I move him forward before we’re mistaken for tourists. “But you’re right. I should probably pick up a few basics. I have some money.”
He stops again. “I have money.”
“But we don’t have the test yet. You want the test. I respect you wanting it.”
He turns me to face him. “What if I want you, and the baby is extra?”
Does he? Can he know that?
I don’t know that much about him, not how he ticks inside. Does he love hard and move on? Is he someone who can be counted on?
I peer up at him, a gusty breeze making his hair dance, his blue eyes penetrating me with his gaze.
I do know one thing. The baby is his, and we’re in this together even if we don’t work as a couple. “Okay,” I say. “Let’s get some things.”
He digs out his phone. “There has to be a baby place somewhere around here.”
There isn’t, not in the hotbed of tourism, but we take an Uber in heavy traffic to another store that Court assures me uses natural fibers and a more eco-friendly approach.
When we arrive, the young woman at the register says, “We’re closing in a half hour, but if you make your selections quickly, we can get you settled.”
Court’s face goes salty. I’m about to intervene when he slams his platinum card on the counter. “I’m having a baby in eleven days, and we need everything. Every single thing.”
“Oh!” The woman glances at my belly, then back at him. “What do you mean, everything?”
I come around his side. “We’ve been overwhelmed since learning about the baby, and we haven’t bought so much as a onesie. I think he wants to outfit as much as possible in one stop.”
She glances around. “Okay, let me get some help.” She walks to the door to twist the lock and switch the sign to closed. “Let’s get started.”
It takes three hours, the entire sales staff of four people, all who are getting bonuses for the extra time, and dinner ordered in for everyone to get it done. But we get clothes, diapers, baby wraps, blankets, burp cloths, baby toys, a bassinet, a changing table, a breast milk pump and all the accessories, and even nursing bras and tops for me.
We arrange for a delivery on Friday since Maggie will be there to clean and can receive it. I’ll be helping with the luncheon that day, and we’ll be gone tomorrow for the sonogram.
When did my days get so busy?
As we ride back to his apartment, my head on his shoulder, I ask, “Where are we going to put it all?”
“There’s an extra bedroom.”
“I haven’t been in there.”
He kisses the top of my head. “Why not?”
“It’s been closed. I kept thinking you might have a sex dungeon.”
He laughs. “I would have dragged you there by now, baby or no baby.”
“That sounds like a way to induce labor.”
“I had planned to create a workout room, but I like the one downstairs just fine, so I never did.”
“So, it’s empty?”
He hesitates. “Not exactly.”
I sit up, my head flashing with thoughts about what could be in there. Keepsakes from old relationships? High school trophies? “What is it?”
“I’ll show you.”
We arrive at the building, and Jerry steps forward to open our doors. “Mr. Armstrong,” he says. “And Lucy.”
It’s funny that Jerry knows me, but he doesn’t know about our goat. “Good evening, Jerry. We’re going to have another one soon.” I pat my belly.
“I’ll be here to bring the car around when it’s time.”
Court claps his shoulders. “You good in stressful situations, Jerry?”
“I’ve had fifty-two babies in this building while I was on duty.”
Court takes a step back. “You’re experienced!”
“Yes, sir.”
Court takes my hand as we head to the elevator.
When we’re inside, I ask, “Do you think he ever wonders where I was for the first eight months of this pregnancy?”
“Jerry makes no judgments,” Court says. “I’m sure he’s seen everything.”
“We’ll get a gender tomorrow,” I tell him. “We’ll know whether to call him Julian or Julia.”
His brow pinches, and I wonder if he’s thinking about how strange it will be to name a boy Julian if it’s not his.
But he simply says, “Big day.”
When we get inside his apartment, I check on Matilda, who is sleeping on her balcony.
“You want to see the room?” he asks.
“I do.”
We head to the door. My heart hammers as he turns the knob.
When he flips on the light, I know exactly what I’m seeing. The room is serene in pale green. The bedposts are made of pine, intricately carved with vines of flowers up the poles. A matching dresser has flower drawer pulls and a mirror surrounded by a floral vine made entirely of wood.
On top of the dresser is a burnished, glossy box with inlaid woods in many different grains and color tones.
I walk up to it and open the lid, listening to the sounds of “Blue Danube Waltz” in a bright, tinkly tune.
“You made all this?” I ask.
“With my grandfather.”
“It’s beautiful.”
He runs his hand along the dresser top. “It’s out of fashion. The decorator wouldn’t even work with it.”
“I love it.”
I hope this will be the baby’s room. I can’t say it right now. I couldn’t deal with his doubt about paternity in this emotional moment.
And it’s perfect. The day has been a dream. The whole week. And now, I get to see a part of Court no one else gets.
My yurt was enough. I was enough. I know that.
But this is more. This is safety. Security. It’s a home.