Look at You Now (22 page)

“What the hell? How did you get out of there?”

“You're kidding, right?” She sat down next to me. “I told them I was so inspired by the confession lecture, I'd be at confession a long time.”

I reached in my pocket and handed her the lighter. She pulled out the cigarettes and handed me one. “So what happened—is Tilly okay?”

“I don't know. They have to check and make sure she's ready to stay there and have the baby. If she's not, she'll be coming back.”

“So we wait and see?”

“Yeah.”

“What did Dr. Dick say about
your
baby coming?”

“He thinks I have three more weeks.”

“Well, that's gonna suck for me.” She turned and looked at the hospital. “Fuck it, let's go check on her.” She stepped on the cigarette and we headed to the hospital door. We made it to Tilly's room without getting stopped. Tilly was sitting on the bed, dressed again.

“I'm not ready yet, I'm at a two, you have to be like a seven or eight.”

“It comes out at a ten. . . . Can you come back to the facility till you're at a seven?” Jill said.

“Yeah, they're calling Alice right now.”

Jill rushed out the door, said she'd be right back. Tilly and I waited.

Jill came back in with the nurse, who said, “Okay, Tilly, these girls are going to escort you back to the facility. We'll see you soon, hon.”

Tilly hopped off the table and turned to Jill. “Whatdya do?”

“I just pretended I was Liz, who can go anywhere she wants. I told the nurse to tell Alice I'd bring ya back.” I marveled at how scrappy and adult Jill really was.

She snuck off to the church on the way back, to make it look like she'd gone to confession. Tilly and I watched the line of over-eighteen girls on the path back to the facility.

“I thought I had it bad,” she said.

“Yeah, me too,” I said.

“You? Jesus, you're the luckiest person in the world! You're lucky on top of lucky.” Tilly was smiling a sad smile. “My mom used to say some people in this world are lucky, and some people aren't, and you gotta know which one you are. She reminded me every day
I'm
not one of the luckys.”

I thought about that for a while as we walked. And then I asked her, “Did your mom ever talk to you about the good people in the world, and the not-so-good people?”

“No . . . why?”

“'Cause you're one of the good ones . . . and that might even be better than being a lucky.”

chapter
13

T
illy had an expression on her face I'd never seen on anyone before. They were one person together, Tilly and her baby. Even in her jeans with the holes in the knees and her floppy shoes, she was breathtaking. She shined in the kind of way I'd forgotten it was possible for people to shine. She smiled and knelt down by my chair in the lounge. I was almost too big by now to hoist myself up.

“You gotta hold him.” I shook my head. “Pleaaseeee, Liz, just smell his head, you'll fucking die.” I looked a long moment, and then reached my arms out and took Tilly's little baby boy. He had a light blue cap on his head and a round rosy face. He smelled like all things good in the world. My heart rose up through my chest and into my throat.

“He's perfect, Tilly, just perfect,” I said. And he was.

I gave her back the baby, hugged them both for a long time, and she left. To go back to her life—with Rick, and the baby, and everything that came next. A raw sadness filled me as I watched her walk out. Every ounce of me was happy for her, but at the same
time, I was horrified and petrified for myself. I had to lean into her joy at that moment, instead of falling into my own darkness. She navigated her way to the cab with her big sneakers, her baby, and her bag. I smiled and touched the window as she waved goodbye and shut the cab door behind her. Tilly had saved me in a way that she may never know, but that I would never forget. Wren, Alice, Jill, Amy, Deanna, and the new girl were all staring at me. Alice cleared her throat.

“She's a good egg, that Tilly,” Alice said.

“Yeah, you don't meet people like Tilly in a place like this,” Jill said. I stared out the window and watched as the cab disappeared.

• • • •

Ms. Graham sat behind her desk in the tweed suit. She had a slight sparkle to her that I hadn't seen before.

“Thanks for coming in, Liz, I know it's not the regular day. How are you doing?”

“Fine.”

“You're finally in the homestretch. How does it feel?”

“Good.”

“Are you looking forward to going home?”

“Yeah.” I'd been looking forward to leaving almost every day since I arrived, but as the reality approached, it felt different. Was I looking forward to beginning this new phase? To living the lie that would become branded into the core of who I was? Was I prepared to give birth to a baby like Tilly's, a baby that smelled like heaven, and give it away to people I would never meet?

“You know that baby of yours will be in very loving, caring hands,” said Ms. Graham. It was like she could hear my thoughts. “The adoptive parents are so looking forward to the delivery. You'll be coming back up to the city soon after to sign off in court on the adoption.”

“I know.”

She smiled at my huge belly. “You
look
ready.” Just as I was
about to tell her how much it sucked to be so hugely pregnant, there was a knock on the door. Ms. Graham called out, “Come in.” I looked up at her door and saw my mom's face.

“Liz,
dear
!” she said. She had on a light blue cotton sweater with several thick strands of pearls around her neck. Her golden suntanned skin against her big white smile lit up the gloomy room.

“
Mom?
What are you doing here?” She came over to hug me, but stopped short to take in my enormous stomach. She stepped back for a moment and then hugged me sideways away from my belly. She put her black patent leather bag down on Ms. Graham's desk and sat in the chair next to me.

“She called early this morning,” Ms. Graham said to me. “I assured her this was a good day to come.”

My mom held my hand. “I feel
terrible
about Easter, after saying I would come up and see you. I feel just awful. I am so, so sorry. So . . . here I am.” She threw her arms up in the air. Ms. Graham smiled at us.

“While I have you both,” Ms. Graham said, “I want to share some very good news going on around here.” She was as close to excited as I'd ever seen her. “Believe it or not,
two
of the resident girls have decided to also give their babies up for adoption.

“There have been
no
adoptions in all the time I have been here. We are thrilled and relieved that the girls are beginning to see adoption as an option to keeping their babies. They're so young, and so many of them ill-equipped. Honestly, Liz, we believe most of this is due to the influence you've had.”

I looked down at the floor. I didn't know what to say. Ms. Graham said to Dorothy, “Mrs. Pryor, you should feel deeply proud. Liz has impacted the girls in so many positive ways. They respect her, they listen to her, and they feel close to her, which is rare. Remarkable, really.”

My mother didn't say a word. She turned her head and looked out the window in silence. What the hell? Why was she not saying anything? After a long moment, Dorothy stood up and straightened
out her skirt. “Liz has an
enormous amount on her plate
right now, Ms. Graham,” she said. “She is here to
have
this child, and get home as soon as possible to resume her life. The well-being of the less fortunate girls here, well, that is not something Liz should be taking on. It is difficult enough that she has had to immerse herself and live here. I don't want her saddled with their problems and lives.
My
concern is for
Liz
, and her ability to get through this difficult time. You can understand that, no?”

“Mrs. Pryor, all I meant to say is that you have a kind and impressionable daughter. . . .”

“I see,” Dorothy said. She was terribly uncomfortable. My mom rose from the chair, picked her purse off the desk, and headed for the door. She turned around and waited for me to get up. But I remained seated. I looked at Ms. Graham.

“Who else is giving up their baby besides Amy?” I asked.

Ms. Graham smiled a real smile. “Wren, and Jill has asked some questions. And as time goes on, there will be more. I just know it. Amy is ready with a family in place and set to return to high school. And we're working on some things for Wren as well.”

I got up from my chair and walked around the desk toward her. “Thanks for saying those nice things.” For the first time ever, I hugged Ms. Graham. She pulled me close, stomach and all, and whispered, “Thank you, Liz.” I turned back and followed my mom out of the room and through the guard gate door. The click, click, click of Dorothy's heels against the linoleum floor rang loud in my ears.

The trees outside had almost all their leaves now, and the grass covering the grounds looked like a fresh green carpet. Dorothy started the car and rolled down the window. That meant she was not going to drive. She couldn't stand the wind blowing her hair while she drove. Window down meant she was going to talk.

“I'm happy to see you, honey,” she said.

“Thanks, Mom.”

“I'm an ass, aren't I?”

“Yeah . . . you kind of are.”

“Liz, I . . . I don't want to hear about the girls in there. I just don't, damn it. Does that make me an awful person? It is
ridiculous
to me that you would be even slightly burdened with their problems. You aren't supposed to be
impacting
them, you are to be focusing on yourself, on getting through this and out of here.”

“She wasn't saying that, Mom, you don't get it. I've been living here for five months now.” Tears were falling down her cheeks. “Mom, please, it's fine, don't worry, it's just . . .
Damn it
, Mom. Ms. Graham was trying to tell you something nice about
me
, and you didn't want to hear
it. That's all
. . .”

She brushed some lint off her coat and answered, “Fair enough, you're right, really you are. I apologize . . . I don't know what's wrong with me. This whole mess has been difficult, I mean very, very difficult, for me. All of it. You are my
daughter
, I love you, and I
worry so
about you. And I desperately want it to be
over
.”

She continued in a more surrendered tone. “I know you're disappointed about Easter . . . maybe I made the wrong decision in going to Sea Island. It's just that I have the twins to consider also. I feel very guilty now about it. . . .”

“It's fine, Mom.”

“It's not fine.” She looked out the window. “And then there's your father
of course
. He had
quite
a bit to say about his visit here with you. His royal highness believes I've made another
rotten
decision sending you here.” She paused. “I need to sell more houses, Liz, I'm out of money. I'm
always
out of money. While that
ass
travels the world with his . . . wife.”

“Mom . . .”
I said. She was full-on crying at this point.

“
I'm
sorry, honey, it just
never
seems to get easier.” She looked up at the ceiling of the car. “I'm doing the best I can, I just can't seem to get a break!” She wiped her eyes. “Forgive me, Lizzie, I'm falling apart.” I scooted over in my seat and put my hand on her shoulder. It was torture to watch my mother so desperate—she had tried so hard and done so much to keep it all together for us.

“It's okay, I'm glad you're here, so glad, Mom. And you're not falling apart. You never do, you've held it together for so long.” She was likely the best winger-of-life on the continent. I could see sitting there next to her, she really was doing the best she could.

We decided to go to the movies that day. Dorothy
loved
the movies. We walked into the small, musty theater in town and sat down to watch
The Great Train Robbery
. She whispered to me at least a dozen times, in a dozen different ways, how flawless a
specimen
of a
man
Sean Connery was. All I could do was laugh. We ate grilled cheese sandwiches and ice cream afterward. We talked about the twins, and her work, and the coming of spring. Dorothy loved springtime, the hope it brought and the chance for new beginnings. “You have your new beginning coming up here soon, Liz,” she said.

When we pulled back into the facility parking lot, both of our spirits were better. “I almost forgot, I brought you something,” Dorothy said.

“You did?”

“Well, I felt so terrible, but I didn't know
what
to get. So here . . .” She reached under the car seat and pulled out a carton of cigarettes. I burst out laughing.

“Mom, are you kidding me?”

“What? You didn't think I knew you smoked?”

“Well, I mean, I don't know but . . .” For Dorothy to have brought me cigarettes meant that she obviously felt beyond horrible. I was a kid, and I was pregnant, and she thought nicotine was a wretched burden—she'd recently quit herself. The gesture was so absurd, it somehow made me feel better.

“Thank you, Mom.”

“One more thing, Liz.” She looked out at the sky and then dramatically turned and asked me, “Is there
anything
you can think of,
anything at alllllllllllllll
that I can do to make this easier on you? Other than
not
go on vacation again?”

“Well . . . there is one thing that's been on my mind.”

“What is it?”

“I'm worried you won't make it here to be with me when it comes time to have the baby. I'm very worried, actually.”

She put her hand on her forehead and moaned.

“I'm not saying that to make you feel bad, Mom. I'm just, I'm scared.”

Dorothy sat up straight and enunciated her words. Which is what she did when she was trying to make a
point
. You never wanted her point to include the w-h words. She'd blow the sound hard and long: whhhhhhhhat, whhhhhhhhere, whhhhhhhhhy. She spoke loudly and clearly: “I will be here, no matter
whhhhhhat
. I will
not
miss it. You have my
word of honor
.” Her word of honor? She'd never given her word of honor to me. A person's word of honor was the highest and most valued statement of promise in our family. She ingrained the concept in our heads when we were very young. It began when she and my dad went out at night, leaving the seven of us kids with some poor sitter. When she
needed
to trust us to do what she said, she'd put us on our word of honor. She'd make us say it back to her, and it always worked. It actually pissed me off when she asked for my word, as the years passed, because it meant I would have to do whatever it was I said I'd do. It was nonnegotiable.

“Wow, okay, I
know
you'll be here. Thank you, Mom.”

She smiled. “I do love you, Liz.”

I got out of the car and looked back at her. “Hey, Mom, next time I see you, this will almost be over,” I said. And I shut the car door. My heart was lighter as I walked back inside.

• • • •

It happened on a Thursday afternoon, almost three weeks later. I was sitting in my chair in the lounge watching the same card trick I'd seen a dozen times. I couldn't figure out how Jill did it. I asked her to do it again and again and again, hoping I'd catch it. As she pulled my card out of the deck for the umpteenth time, I
felt my stomach tighten. I put my hand on it. It tightened again super hard, as though there were a vise-grip turning too far in one direction, and my stomach was caught in it. I didn't say anything at first, but after a while the gripping began to hurt, badly, and I started to freak out. It was here. This baby was finally coming. I leaned over the chair with an intense pain and held my breath, as though that might somehow relieve it.

Jill calmly got up and led me to our room, where she tried like hell to keep me distracted. I was a shockingly
horrific
patient. She did everything she could to occupy me: cards, concentration, hangman, tic-tac-toe. By midnight, the pains were twelve minutes apart. The closer they got, the clearer it became. There was no way out. I was going to give birth to a person out of my vagina. I was scared to death. I told myself to get a grip, to calm down, to have faith, but it was completely useless.