Page 47 of The Lookback

Abby’s face comes alive in a way I’ve never before seen. Her eyes light up. Her lips tremble, and suddenly, tears begin rolling down her face. Her voice is wobbly and her brow is furrowed when she says, “Are you really thinking about that?” Her hands are shaking.

“Maybe,” I say.

“Oh my gosh!” Her voice is high and stringy and her hands are flapping around like she’s trying to swim through a riptide, and she keeps repeating the same phrase over and over. “Oh my gosh! Oh my gosh! Ohmygosh, ohmygosh!” Then she hugs me.

Not like a good-to-see-you hug. Not like a thank-goodness-you’re-alright hug, either.

No, this is a pop-the-bones-in-my-back kind of hug.

She shakes the bed I’m lying on.

And then she keeps right on hugging me. When she finally releases me, she’s still crying. Her voice is ragged and stringy. “Oh my gosh, Helen! You could have ababy!”

I hate that I like her excitement, but I can’t help it. In all my life, I doubt I’ve ever made my sister that happy. I’ve probably never madeanyonethis happy. Her excitement isn’t enough to ruin my life, but knowing she was holding all this inside of her, reining it all in to try and make sure I knew she loved and supported me, well.

It’s significant.

“Okay, okay. That’s enough excitement for now. I think it’s pushing me the wrong way,” I lie. Because if I don’t, I might do something stupid just to make Abby happy. Which would be the worst reason ever to have a baby I don’t want.

Abby drags in a huge breath, and then she drags in another. “Right. Right. Of course it is. Yes.” She swipes at her cheeks, and she wipes her nose, and she dries her face on her shirt. “And who knows what you’ll decide to do. I support you either way.”

That makes me laugh—great, big, gulping peals of laughter that fill the entire room. “Sure you do.”

Now my sister looks entirely sober. Utterly serious. “I do, Helen. I’m really, really trying.”

And she is. It’s probably the truest thing she’s ever said. In this moment, I love her more than I knew I could. The idea of terminating a pregnancy fills her with the worst kind of dread, I know. Her children are her whole life.

I’ve spent a little bit of time hating them for it. I’m a jealous person. But is it really a stretch to guess that she wants the same thing for me that she prizes for herself? Only, it won’t be like that with me. They won’t fill me with boundless joy. I’ll be much closer to Amanda’s constant low-key irritation. If I’m lucky.

“When I was pregnant with Whitney. . .” Abby sits next to me and looks down at her hands. “It was miserable. I was tired. I. . . Nate and I decided it was a smart move for him to get a vasectomy. I couldn’t handle any more pregnancies.”

“Spoiler alert,” I say. “You were going to havetwomore.”

“Yeah, so apparently less than a half a percent of vasectomies don’t actually work. The man’s tubes, like, repair themselves.”

“You’re kidding.”

She shakes her head.

“And Nate was among them?” I sit up straighter. “Wait, was Gabe an oops?”

She shakes her head again. “No, we had Nate tested six months after the procedure as they recommended, and we discovered that it hadn’t worked.” She sighs. “We prayed about it then, and I know that’s not your thing either, but we both felt like we were supposed to have just one more baby, and that’s why it didn’t work.”

“Yeah, yeah.” I flop back against the pillows. “Every baby is a miracle.”

“No.” Abby laughs. “Most babies are tired, grumpy, miserable little brats.”

“What?” My head whips sideways, but she seems serious.

“Babies are demanding little tyrants who make you wish you could just die so you could sleep without being interrupted.” She sounds sincere, but her eyes are also sparkling. “You’ve actually been around a little bit for Nathan, so you might realize that I’m serious.”

“And you think I should have this one?” I splay my hand over my stomach again.

“I do hope you’ll choose the adventure.” Abby smiles. “It’s horrible and scary and awful and also beautiful, exciting, and brilliant. But what matters isn’t whatIwant. It’s whatyouthink.” She pats my hand. “The one piece of advice I’ll give is this. It took two people to make that little baby.”

David. She thinks I ought to tell David.

We sit there like that for half an hour or so before Abby decides it’s time to go check on Donna. I stand up and tuck the photo into my purse. “I’ll come too. Maybe it’ll be good for me.”

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