Page 90 of Tear Me Apart
He clicks off and she shoves the phone in her back pocket, and thinks back to that first night, seventeen years ago, when she brought Mindy home.
Frantic.That is the only word for this feeling. The baby won’t stop screaming, no matter what she does. She gives it her breast, though she knows there will be no sustenance, but hopes the child’s basic instincts will take over and then Lauren will slip the nipple of the bottle in her mouth, too. It doesn’t work. She warms a fresh bottle, changes another diaper—there’s been nothing but urine since she brought her home, but she doesn’t know how much the baby should go, considering she hasn’t eaten yet. Lauren walks and joggles and swaddles and sings, and still the child cries, pitifully, turning her insides out, and making Lauren’s ears ring.
“Shhh, baby, shhh. It’s okay, Mommy is here.”
Of course, Mommy isn’t here, but Lauren can’t think of that now, can’t think of anything but the crying, the crying, the crying.
Lauren remembers these first few nights with such clarity: the fear, the sorrow, the knowledge her life will never be the same, that they are all changed. The abject horror of the child’s screams, Lauren knowing somehow it is her own fault for wanting the child so much, though that is silly, it’s no one’s fault, but she had a moment where she thought the baby blamed her and was punishing her. She understood, she did. If you were inside of one woman for nine months, and suddenly, that familiarity and warmth was gone and in its place an inexperienced stranger who can’t even feed you...yes, Lauren supposed she would have screamed her head off, too.
If something goes wrong, don’t go near the hospital. Take her somewhere else. A clinic. A friend.
Two days into the crying, desperate, she’d gone to the emergency room. The baby was quickly diagnosed with jaundice and put under a lamp. After the first couple of bowel movements, the frantic crying ceased, and Lauren’s world righted itself.
She should have known. She should have realized something was wrong. She was too wrapped up in her guilt, in the idea that she wasn’t worthy, to recognize actual distress.
She hovered over the baby until Jasper came along, and he had a way with Mindy that Lauren envied. She always quieted for him, always ate for him, always napped for him. Their date nights consisted of wine and pizza and a movie from Blockbuster so they could be close if Mindy woke and needed them.
Lauren fell in love with Jasper, without a doubt, but that was after, when she realized she and Mindy couldn’t function without him. Truly, love was a bonus on the back end of things. Yes, he was handsome, but truthfully, Jasper wasn’t really her type—Lauren always went for the bad boys, and Jasper was the preppy boy next door, a former English major and active tennis player, with his floppy hair and crooked smile and law degree.
They met at the laundromat, him washing an oversized comforter, Lauren scrambling to get the baby’s clothes clean and folded while she napped; the warm whirring of the machines always lulled her to sleep. Of course, some idiot came in with a boom box and the deep bass rumble woke Mindy, and she’d started to cry, and the cute guy next to her had offered to hold her while Lauren pulled her clothes out of the dryer, and the next thing she knew, they were eating at the pizza place next door, and she realized he’d been holding Mindy the whole time. When he asked her for her phone number, she felt something akin to relief, that maybe she didn’t have to do this all by herself.
She’d been so young, so naïve. So lucky. He could have kidnapped the baby, stolen her away. He could have been a killer. Though she likes to think she would have sensed evil coming off of him.
Jasper could have had anyone, but he’d chosen them, and she didn’t question it, just counted herself among the luckiest women on the planet. She always thought he considered himself lucky, too.
The love came in like a wave one afternoon. She was exhausted—nothing new, everyone with a newborn is exhausted—but it was worse because Mindy had started an early tooth. She hadn’t cried so long and loud since the jaundice episode, and even Jasper’s magical touch couldn’t ease their little girl’s pain. He was carrying her around, singing softly, and had looked up with an expression of bemusement, and Lauren had smiled at him, and something inside her had clicked, like a big light switch going on, and she had a single thought, which she said aloud. “I love you.”
He stopped, and smiled, and stuck a finger in Mindy’s mouth. “I love you, too. Now, fetch me the whisky, will you? I think a little on her gums will help.”
“We can’t give the child whisky. They’ll arrest us.”
“Then don’t tell anyone.” His eyes were sparkling; she’d pleased him with her unscheduled announcement. She got the bottle of Scotch, poured out a finger, and watched him dip the tip of his thumb in and swipe it on Mindy’s sore, red gums.
It worked, like everything Jasper tried with the girl.
The crying ceased, and the two of them managed to get her down for a nap, then snuck off to the bedroom themselves. After, he’d told her she was a good mother, and she’d cried a little when she said no, it was he who was the good father.
And he’d kissed her, hard, and proposed, right then, the two of them tangled in the sheets, smelling of baby spit and whisky and love, and she hadn’t thought she could be happier than she was at that very moment.
50
“Mom?”
Mindy’s voice pulls her from her reverie.
Her little girl’s eyes are sunk into her head, but they have some sparkle back in them, thank heavens. Lauren gently caresses her cheek.
“Hi, sweetie. You’re awake. You’ve been out for hours. How do you feel?”
“Empty. Can I have some crackers?”
“Of course. Hang on. I’ll go get some.”
Should she tell her? Should she?
She grabs the crackers and some fresh ginger ale and goes back to the room. Mindy has adjusted the bed so she sits up and is looking decidedly better than before.
“Did you go home?”
