My throat tightens and my heart aches.
“I fucked it up,” I say, offering nothing else. She will lose her mind if she finds out the truth.
“Maybe this is your second chance.” She’s hopeful that since she found love I might too.
“Second chances are something you only get in Christmas movies where the snow is falling, the bells of the church are ringing, and the year is ending. So you feel like maybe there’s hope that you can fix it or start fresh with the new year. Holiday magic is in the air,” I joke but she is in love. She’s a believer now.
My skeptical, single, travel-obsessed friend may never recover from this, and I couldn’t be happier for her.
But that is not how my story ends.
I motion at Romeo on the window seat. “That is the man for me. He’s adorable, fluffy, doesn’t talk except to meow for food or snuggles, and he is independent. You’ve never seen a happier face than when I get home from being out. It’s true love.”
She laughs again but we are interrupted. Finally, my phone vibrates with a call. I dive at the table where it sits.
“Ahhh!” I scream as I answer the Facetime from James. “Hi!”
“Hey,” he says. His face is puffy and his eyes are red like he’s been crying. “She’s awesome. She’s totally fine.”
A massive exhale I didn’t realize I was half holding leaves my lips. “Oh thank God.”
“They are waking her up and she’ll be with us soon. But I wanted you to know Liz is totally okay. They tied her tubes while they were in there. So it took longer.” He moves the phone to a weird glass case. “And this is Lillian Severson Greenwood.” He zooms in on the baby inside.
“God, they named her after you,” Shawnee gushes quietly.
“She’s healthy, seven pounds, all the fingers and toes and good stuff,” James sounds smitten.
“Oh my.” I begin to cry and not just because they have named her after me. Shawnee joins me. We grip each other and sob.
“She’s in this weird case because they’re giving her a minute. Her heart rate was a bit high and it rose when I touched her. So they are resting her in here to make sure she stays calm.” He brings the phone back to himself. “She’s perfect. I wish you guys could be here.”
“Me too.” I sniffle. “I’m so excited for you both. She’s lovely.”
“She is.” He starts to cry. “This is hard having a baby in isolation.” His confession brings more tears to my eyes.
“We wish we could be there.”
“We do,” Shawnee agrees.
“Can you Facetime us when Liz is there? We’d love to see her face,” my voice cracks.
“Of course. You know she will be desperate to talk to you guys. You’re her best friends.”
We all cry.
“I love you,” I mutter and wipe my face.
“I love you too. Kiss that baby for me when you’re able,” Shawnee says.
“Love you too. I better Facetime the parents and my brother. Talk soon.” He ends the call to us nodding and sobbing.
We cling to each other and cry. And not all the tears are happy. A couple of them that fall are frustration. A few are anger. And maybe one or two are from the resignation that this is life now. Life that has no end in sight.
I will have to quarantine for two straight weeks in my house. Drive to my sister’s house to see Lillian and Liz. Stay for the day, suck up as many baby kisses as I can, and then leave. And until Covid is gone, that will be my life.
And we’re all healthy and safe, so I can’t even complain about it.
Even if I want to.
Chapter 32
August 30
Lunch at my sister’s, watching the kids in the yard running and screaming, almost convinces me that we are living in a normal moment. Or that it’s been a normal year.
“Sorry again, we can’t do dinner tonight. Sam’s going to help me disassemble my office,” I say, taking the baby from Liz. “Oh my God, look at those cheeks. Look how chubby you’re getting.” I nuzzle my face in and give baby Lillian kisses. She smells divine.
“That’s okay.” Liz doesn’t sound like it’s okay. “You hanging with Sam instead of me is always forgiven.”
“How is she so cute? It almost makes me want one,” Shawnee says as she brushes the choppy blonde hair out of Lillian’s eyes.
“Lilly bean,” Liz coos. “Are you going to kickstart Aunty Shawnee’s uterus into something useful?” Lillian smiles when she hears my sister’s voice. She barely knows Shawnee and me. This is my fourth visit and Shawnee’s second.
Nova Scotia has been open for the summer, no restrictions on anything due to hardly any cases, but we are careful about her.
“I think we all know my uterus might as well not even be here.” Shawnee waves a hand over her stomach. “It serves no purpose. And never will.”
“You can’t say that.” Liz scoffs. “You and Anthony have been seeing each other for a few months now. It could get serious and he might say he wants kids. He’s what, thirty in November?”
“He doesn’t want kids. As cute as our kids would be, we both agree that isn’t our path.” Shawnee is firm in this. Something I respect her for.
“And what about you and Sam? Granted, he can’t have kids but surely you guys might want to try another route?”
“No.” The answer is short and sweet and decidedly lacking in detail. I don’t want to admit to them that I’m not sure I will ever have kids, though once upon a time I desperately wanted them. A small part of me knows in getting together with Sam I have resigned myself that if this becomes a proper relationship, kids might not happen. And even if it were to happen, it can’t happen now. I’m still recovering from the accident and stress and changes in my life. The headaches and dizzy spells are less frequent but still there.
“Why not?” Liz asks.
“We’re not at that stage,” I lie with an uncomfortable expression, desperate not to talk about it. “We’ve only been seeing each other for a couple of months and it’s casual.” I almost tell them it’s fragile still.
“I feel that. Same for us. It’s mostly chilling at home because traveling is a massive risk even with the Atlantic bubble.” Shawnee laughs. “I think most of us in new Covid relationships will have a weird time when the world opens back up. You’ve never really taken your significant other into the outside.”
“And with him being a doctor, I can’t imagine he will spend much time out in the world until there’s a vaccine.” I don’t add that my trust issues have hindered my letting the relationship go beyond comfy clothes and movies and meals at home. I like what we have, it’s small and kind of secretive. We don’t have dinner with other people. We don’t go to parties. We stay in the tiny bubble we’ve blown up around ourselves and the fit is nice.
A bubble Covid has made possible.
It’s the one perk I’ve found in the chaos and uncertainty.
He doesn’t talk about his friends or try to introduce me to them. I don’t have to bring him to work functions and try not to stare at Elaine and Rod. This bubble has been a blessing.