Page 34 of The Lookback

“I’m sorry,” I say. “As soon as—” But another contraction hits, and I can’t keep talking.

“It’s totally fine,” Beth says. “Really. I just thought I’d check and make sure we knew where it was. I think Will’s mom has an extra one that she uses more. I’ll check with her.”

I’m a little defeated when I hang up.

“Are you alright?” Abby asks a few miles down the road. “You’ve seemed a little distracted the last few times we’ve talked. It could just be the new baby, but?—”

“Thea hates me.” As soon as I blurt it out, tears start to stream down my face. I’m not sure whether it’s desperation or embarrassment that I spilled in front of Helen.

Helen’s head whips toward me, her jaw dropping. “Isn’t that your baby’s name—Althea?”

“Helen,” Abby says.

“What?” She sounds indignant. “I might be wrong, but I think it is. It sounds like she’s saying her own baby hates her.”

“You’re an idiot sometimes.” Abby turns and drops a hand on my shoulder. “She doesnothate you. Some babies fuss more than others. Ethan was like that, actually, but he was my first, so I thought all babies were constantly fussing.”

Now I’m swiveling around, trying to get a good look at her. “Ethan hated you?”

Abby laughs, which isn’t very reassuring. “Althea does not hate you, Donna.”

I sigh.

“I’m sure of it. I’ve watched her with you. She watches you like you’re an ice cream sundae.”

Which makes me bawl like a big old baby myself.

“I’m not kidding. She loves you—but I’m guessing she’s a hard baby, and the more help you bring in, the harder it is to see that she has a preference for you over anyone else.”

Which is what I was wondering already, but somehow, hearing her say it makes it feel legitimate. “She likes Will and his mom and Beth as much as she likes me. Maybe more.”

Abby’s arms wrap around me from behind and pull me back against the chair. “First of all, being a mother isn’t about being loved the most. But secondly, shedoeslove you more than anyone else, and she always will. I can tell.”

Now Helen’s crying for some bizarre reason, but I can’t focus on that. I’m too busy dealing with yet another contraction.

“And do you love our mother more than anyone?” Helen’s swiping at her eyes as she careens down the road at seventy-five. “Really?”

Oh. This is about her baggage. I know Helen is Abby’s sister, but I swear, sometimes I wish she’d just move away. Having a real sister hanging around her makes me feel like I’m a tagalong.

“In some ways, yes, I love Mom the most,” Abby says. “But not many. I don’t love her more than you, for instance, or more than Steve. I definitely don’t love her more than the kids. She hasn’t earned it.” Abby’s voice is soft. “But Donna has.”

“How do you know that?” Helen asks. “Maybe she’s like Mom.”

I want to punch her, and I want to kiss her, because I have the same question, and I’m not sure I would have been brave enough to ask.

“Our mother cared about herself. Our mother cared about her career. Our mother cared about Dad. She cared about all those things more than she cared about us, and a really good mother cares about her children at least as much as those other things.” Abby sighs. “Probably more.” Abby pats my shoulder again. “You’re a good mother, Donna. I’ve been busy with little Nathan, and with being a newlywed, and I haven’t seen you around Althea as much as I might have otherwise, but I’ve seen you with Aiden, and I know you’re a phenomenal mother to him. You’re nothing like our mom was.”

Abby hasn’t told me anything or given me any advice, but strangely, it may be the one thing I really needed to hear—that I don’t need it. I’m not doing something wrong. I’m not a bad mom. The next contraction isn’t even that bad, not now that I feel a little better about my own competency.

“It’s hard to parent a newborn.” Abby sits back in her seat. “You’re tired. They’re tired. They’re small, and they can’t really communicate. They have stomach pain? A dirty diaper? They can’t tell you. They just cry, and on top of all that normal stuff, this time you’re pregnant, too. My kids are close together, but I was never pregnant while I tried to care for a newborn.”

“With Aiden, he quieted around me. He snuggled with me.”

“Some kids don’t like being squeezed,” Abby says. “Maren was like that, if I remember right. Amanda told me she’d always shove away. It wasn’t until Emery was born, a tiny, grabby koala, that Amanda realized that some kidsliketo sit on their mothers’ laps.”

She’s saying that if I don’t feel like I’m connected to Althea. . . “It’s not my fault?”

Abby laughs. “I’ve got five kids now, and the only thing I know for sure is that every single one is vastly different. They may share some qualities, but they’re probablydifferentin more ways than they’re the same. When someone tells you that something is universally true with kids, be very, very dubious about whatever else they have to say.”

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