American Music - Jane Mendelsohn [63]
She looked at some spot in the air between them. She seemed fragile and he saw her right eye waver.
I couldn’t take care of her the way you can, she said. The way both of you can.
He could see that she meant it. Her eyes were steady now, gazing through him.
We will always take care of her, he said.
She shivered when he said this and holding the baby tightly to her she said Thank you very quietly and with more tenderness than he had ever seen from her or anyone.
He noticed the way she was touching the child’s face without even thinking about it and he thought she will never do that again she will never wipe away this girl’s tears or touch the edge of her smile or push her long hair behind her ear with a finger the way mothers do and he thought of the girl and would the girl know that she was missing this even if there was someone else to do those things and then he pushed the thought away and it was the last time he could bear to think it.
You must be tired, he said.
I must be but I don’t feel it.
Take your time. You tell me when you’re ready.
Her hand was touching the tiny perfect hand.
A little longer, she said.
She began to cry.
I don’t want to do this, she said. But I have to, you understand?
He nodded.
You can always see her, he said.
She turned her face to the side and shook her head. I don’t think so, she said.
The baby slept and together they watched her sleeping. Vivian stared downward with that weary loving look but he could hear the screaming inside her head.
She’ll always be yours, he said.
She took a deep breath.
No, she said quietly. But I’ll always be hers.
He felt that this was the saddest he could ever be. She was shaking now, holding the baby close and shaking in a kind of rocking motion and the child was sleeping.
He leaned forward and took them both in his arms. For a moment, they were a family. Her wet cheek was pressed against his neck and her arms around the child pushed into his chest and he welcomed the physical pain. He took Vivian’s face in his hands and he kissed her for the last time while she cried and shook. I can’t do this, she said, looking up at him. And then she handed him the child.
There were fireworks inside Milo, gentle ones like handkerchiefs drooping in surrender and also gigantic and thunderous wheels of light.
•
Do you have everything? Vivian’s mother was standing at the door with Joe while he buttoned his jacket. She handed him a bag filled with blankets and bottles and clothes. She was careful not to look in his eyes. She was holding the door for him now while he reached down and picked up the basket. The yellow light from the house spilled onto the steps and lit his way and then stopped as if giving up against the darkness. He walked into the darkness.
2006
So the baby is Iris, Anna’s mother.
It seems that way.
And Anna, you think she is …
My mother. I think so.
Did you know that this is what happened?
No, I never knew.
Did you know Pearl?
No. She died when I was small. And Anna never talked about her.
Do you want to keep going? he said.
They were lying side by side. She turned to look at him and he seemed more than tired. His eyes wrinkled at the edges and his lips were pale and dry. The yellow flecks still lit up his blue eyes but the blue was gray now and the flecks seemed like stars hovering at twilight. It was as though his strong physical presence was giving way to something else, making room for something else.
Are you all right? she said.
I’m fine if you are, he said.
I’m not fine, she said. But I want to keep going.
He closed his eyes. He felt her roll back over him, her hair sweeping across his chest and then his face. It was like being in some kind of holy car wash. He thought his body was a vehicle and that she was driving him home, driving him crazy, driving him to the end of the road. He remembered an essay he’d had to read in school and one of the lines in it: Everything good is on the highway. He was a car and she was driving him and they were on the highway and they were lost and they were trying to find everything that