Giftchild (2 page)

Rodney hovered in the doorway, as if he wasn't sure he should be here. I motioned him into the living room. From the look of things, Mom would be gone in a minute anyway.

I motioned to Mom's checkbook. "What are you doing with that?"

Mom tossed it into her bag. "I just thought I might need it," she said. "You never know."

"Mom," I said. "You're not buying the baby. And I think the hospital gift shop would take a card."

But Mom was already in the kitchen, rifling through a drawer. "I think I forgot to pack a pen."

I leaned against the door frame in the kitchen. My clothes were still damp, and my shoes were sinking wet footprints into the carpet, but Mom was too insane to notice. "I'm pretty sure they'll have pens at the hospital. Or in the gift shop. Or Dad could bring you one if you really need one."

But Mom resurfaced with two pens, each with a mismatched cap. "Found one!" she said.

I sighed, peering into Mom's bag. She obviously wasn't thinking clearly, so I tried to remember all the things she couldn't. The things she should
actually
be doing, instead of scrambling around for pens. "Where's Dad?" I asked. "Have you called him?"

Mom nodded. "I'll meet him at the hospital."

I looked at her trembling hands. When Mom made that plan before, it had sounded fine. But in this state, she might cruise through a stoplight and die. "Um . . ." I said. "Maybe he should pick you up?"

Mom looked at me blankly. "Why?"

Because, Mom. You're not fit to drive.
"Because then you'll only have one car there," I said.

Mom's eyebrows met. "Do you need one? I could leave you my car. But we can't put the car seat in Dad's truck. It's already installed in mine—"

"Okay," I said. "So have Dad come here and drive you in your car."

Mom squinted at the air in front of her, like she was trying to solve an impossible puzzle. "You can't drive your dad's work truck."

"I know," I said.

She dashed upstairs again, this time returning with an extra pair of socks. She'd already packed four. "So we'll take two cars. Stick to the plan. It'll be fine." She unzipped and rezipped the pocket on her purse without putting anything into it.

Wrong answer, Mom.

I searched for a reason for Dad to come here, instead of meeting her at the hospital. An answer that would not involve telling my mother that she was clearly losing her mind. I didn't want to say that to her now; however crazy she might be for the next few days, it was nothing compared to the depression she'd sink into if this adoption fell through like the others.

Finally, lightning struck. I put a hand on Mom's arm. "If you both go in your car, you'll be able to both drive home with the baby, you know? You'll want to be together for that." Dad was technically my step-dad, or he had been before he adopted Athena and me. He'd never had an infant before, and I knew he didn't want to miss a single moment. And Mom didn't want to miss a single moment of it with
him
.

Mom nodded. "You're right. Of course you're right. Thank you for thinking of that." She pulled out her phone to text Dad.

That's what I'm here for
, I thought. Then I dug my phone out of my pocket. "I'll do it. You finish packing."

Mom ran up the stairs again to grab who-knows-what while I sent a message to Dad.
Mom's nervous. Shouldn't drive. Come pick her up?

I got a message back a second later.
On my way.

I nodded. That was just what I wanted to hear.

Rodney leaned into the living room doorway. "Should I leave?"

"No," I said. "Mom will be gone in a few minutes, and then it will be quiet." Too quiet. I didn't want to be left alone in the quiet.

I was hoping that with Rodney out of sight in the living room and Mom halfway out of her mind, she'd forget that Rodney and I weren't allowed to be in the house alone. But she reappeared at the top of the stairs right then, a blank baby book in her hand. As if this child was going to begin to have milestones that she had to write down before they even got home from the hospital.

"Mom," I said. "I think you can leave that here."

She balanced the book on the corner of the banister at the top of the stairs, and put her hands on her hips. Rodney had disappeared back into the living room again, and Mom lowered her voice, even though I was sure he could still hear.

"What are you two going to do?" she asked. "Your father will be here any minute."

"We'll go grab food somewhere," I told her.

She raised her eyebrows. "What if it rains again?"

I sighed. "It was raining when we left school. Rodney can drive just fine in the rain."

She nodded. "And what will you do after that?"

I leaned against the wall. Mom could be really paranoid about leaving me alone with Rodney. I'd told her a million times that we weren't really together—high school relationships didn't last, and I didn't want to waste what Rodney and I had on some fleeting fling. I'd explained that to Mom, but she still worried. And I got that. She'd married and divorced her high school sweetheart—my birth father—before she was even twenty. Everything went better at home if I just didn't do anything with Rodney to make her worry. Which is why she didn't need to know about how often we made out, just-friends or not. I could tell her we'd go to Rodney's house, where we would be equally alone, but that sure wasn't what she wanted to hear.

"After that he can drop me off at Athena's," I said. "And she can bring me to the hospital after the baby is born, so I can take pictures for you, okay? Like you planned?"

Mom nodded. "Okay," she said. She picked the baby book up again, brought it downstairs, and shoved it absentmindedly into her purse.

I hoped she remembered that arrangement and didn't call me in five minutes worried about where I was. A few minutes later my dad swept in the door, hefted Mom's bags and her worries, and directed her into her car.

I waved goodbye to them on the porch. When I went back into the house, I sank onto the couch beside Rodney and let my breath slide out of me. I loved my mother, but I couldn't help but feel a little bit glad that she'd gone, and taken her hurricane of stress and worry with her. A tiny pocket of it remained, though, swirling in my stomach. This time was going to be different. This one was going to last.

It had to.

Rodney rubbed my shoulder. "You'll be fine," he said. "Are you ready to go get something to eat?"

I shook my head. "I just told her that so she wouldn't worry. I don't think I could eat anything." To tell the truth, I was only slightly less nervous than she was. "Do you want to go home?" I asked. "My head is noisy today. I'll probably be crappy company."

Rodney rested an arm around my shoulders. "My house is too quiet," he said. "I like the noise."

I smiled and leaned into his shoulder, and, ironically, we were
both
quiet. I got what he was saying, though; there was a difference between the quiet of an empty house—Rodney's parents both worked crazy hours—and the quiet of sitting in comfortable silence with someone who wanted you around. This was the good kind of quiet—the kind Rodney and I made together. That kind always made me feel better, no matter what.

And since adoption day was coming, that might be the only kind of quiet I could find for a while.

Mom didn't call that night, though Dad did send me a steady stream of update texts. Through the night and the next day at school, I checked my phone obsessively. Lily was at a three, a five, a seven. They were giving her an epidural. She was pushing. The baby was born. Mom got to hold her. Mom was already calling her Anna—the name she and my dad had picked.

As the updates came, I tried to breathe through the anxiety. Nothing was final until the paperwork was signed.

Then Anna would really be ours.

It took until the next evening before Mom called to tell me they were ready for me to come meet my baby sister. I would have been happy to wait until Anna officially came home, but Mom wanted nice, professional-looking pictures of Anna and Lily at the hospital, and I wasn't going to tell her no.

"Can Rodney bring you?" Mom asked.

I rolled my eyes. She'd already forgotten where I was supposed to be, and who I was supposed to be with.

Oh well. At least if Mom had forgotten the plan, I wouldn't get in trouble for not following it exactly. "Athena will drive me," I said. "I already asked her."

"Right," Mom said. "Thank you. I knew I could count on you."

Athena did drop me off, but she parked at the curb with the engine running.

"Are you sure you won't come with me?" I asked her.

Athena's hands hung limp on the wheel. "I will if you need me to."

It was Mom who might need her, not me. I hadn't seen her since she left the house, but I couldn't imagine she was any less of a mess. "Don't you want to meet our new sister?"

Athena shrugged. "I'll wait until the paperwork is done."

I fiddled with my lens cap, twisting it round and round. That's what Mom should have done, too. But she always charged in, wanting to be there for every possible minute, in case this was the child that would, at last, be hers. "This time will be different," I said. "Lily's almost part of the family."

"I know," Athena said. "That's what I'm worried about."

We'd only known Lily for two months, since she chose Mom and Dad to be the adoptive parents of her unborn baby. In the four weeks since Athena moved into the dorms, Lily had hung around our house more than Athena. She and Mom had negotiated an open adoption with visitation and everything, so after she signed the papers, she'd always be part of our lives.

Athena wouldn't say so, but I was pretty sure she'd stayed away partly
because
of Lily. Lily might be more likely to go through with the adoption because she got to be more involved than the other girls had, but she also had more power to hurt Mom. If Lily backed out, Mom would have two holes in her life to fill, instead of just one.

When I opened the car door, Athena gave me a worried look. "Are you sure you want to do this?" she asked.

"Yeah, of course," I said. "Mom asked me to."

Athena sighed. "I just don't think it's fair of her to do this to you."

I squeezed my camera. "I'm fine," I said. "If you need to worry about someone, worry about Mom."

"Okay," Athena said. But she didn't look convinced.

I took the elevator up to the maternity ward and gave them my name and pass phrase through the courtesy phone. The door buzzed, and I pushed it open.

Dad sat in the front waiting room. He stood and came over to me, giving me a hug. "Is Mom doing okay?" I asked.

Dad made a wobbling motion with his hand, which was pretty much a non-answer. "She and Lily are in with the baby."

"Anna," I said.

Dad nodded. "When the paperwork's final." He cringed. "But don't tell your mother I said that."

He knew I wouldn't. "Are they signing tonight?"

"That's the plan."

I sighed. I wished he'd talk about it with more confidence, if only for Mom's sake. She needed us all to be supportive, to be sure.

Otherwise, the stress was going to kill her.

I couldn't blame Dad, though. We were all tired. This was the last leg of a long race. We had so little left to go, but I still wasn't sure if we could make it.

Dad walked me down the hall to Lily's hospital room. Lily sat cross-legged on her bed, with the quilt Mom had made for her wrapped over her knees. She wore a hospital gown, but she'd already put on eyeliner, though not as thick as she usually wore it. I guessed Mom had told her I was coming to take pictures, and she didn't want to go without it.

Lily waved at me as I walked in the door. "Penny!" she said. "Come hold the baby!"

Mom had the baby in her arms, but she beamed up at me as I walked toward her. The infant was wrapped up in a tight little bundle, with only her head showing. She had about an inch of dark black hair already, though Lily's was blond.

"Anna," I said.

Lily wrinkled her nose. "Maybe. We were talking about Tina, too."

I frowned, and looked at Mom. She had been calling this baby Anna for the last month. I'd never heard anyone talk about Tina.

Mom didn't argue, but she didn't agree, either. She just ran a finger through the downy hair of the baby—my little sister.

Lily was only six months older than I was. To tell the truth, it was easier to think of
her
as my sister, since she was right between me and Athena.

"Do you want to hold her?" Mom asked.

"Pictures first," I said. I walked to the door, making sure that every light in the room was on. I knelt on the floor in front of Mom, snapping some shots of her looking down at the baby.

"Can I have her?" Lily asked. "Would you take some with me?"

I lowered my camera. I'd only just begun taking pictures of Mom. I opened my mouth to tell Lily to give us a minute, but Mom was already taking the baby over and placing her in Lily's arms.

Lily leaned her face down over the baby and smiled. I dragged my camera over and snapped a few photos from the end of the bed, and then moved closer, kneeling on the floor to get some of Lily looking down at the baby.

"That's enough," Mom said to me. "Don't overwhelm her." But when Lily looked down at the baby, she didn't look overwhelmed. She looked happy.

"It's okay," she said. "You can take a few more."

Please
, I thought at her.
Don't do this to my mother.

I stood above her, snapping away.

I'd give her all the pictures she wanted. Hundreds. Thousands. I'd give her pictures of her daughter from now until Anna graduated from college, if only Lily wouldn't break my mother's heart.

Rodney picked me up outside the hospital half an hour later. I wanted to stay until the papers were signed, but I could tell I was jittering, watching Lily hold the baby in her hospital bed like
she
was the mother. Once Anna came home, we could start feeling our way into a new normal, with our two new family members.