The Other Life (16 page)

“I’ve seen this before,” she said.

Hayden nodded. “And I think I know where.” He dashed out of the room and came back a few minutes later with a photo album open to a page showing their parents, Nan and Phil, bringing a newborn Quinn home from the hospital. They were posing inside the front door, holding up a sleeping infant wearing the same pink outfit with the cartoon bear on the front.

“I don’t get it,” Quinn said.

“She was saving it for you,” Lewis said.

“But why? She never saved anything.”

“She brought you home from the hospital in it,” Lewis said. “It’s special.”

Quinn turned to her brother. “Does this seem like something Mom would do?”

“No, but it’s her handwriting. And the wrapping is pure Mom.”

Quinn put her hand on her belly. “Maybe I’m reading too much into this, but . . .” She paused, considering how to phrase it without sounding silly. How could she explain that she felt there was some kind of message in this gift—almost as if her mother had known she would one day need this connection?

“I don’t know,” she continued, “but maybe this means she’s still here in some way.” That felt right to Quinn. She liked to think she didn’t have to cross over to be close to her mother. Her spirit, perhaps, was always here.

Cordell stuck his arm under a pile of clothes and poked his hand out, as if it were rising from the dead. “Ooh! A message from beyond!”

Hayden ignored him and addressed his sister. “I think you can attach as much significance as you want.”

Quinn brought the little garment to her nose and sniffed. She imagined a tiny warm body inside. “I’m going to bring her home from the hospital in this.” She glanced at Lewis to check his reaction and he met her eyes. The message that passed between them was hope and fear. Hope that they might actually bring Naomi home from the hospital. Fear that her mother may have left them their baby’s burial outfit.

“She’ll be the youngest-ever participant in
What Not to
Wear,” Cordell said, laughing.

Hayden turned to him. “Inappropriate.” He looked back at his sister. “I’m sorry, when things get emotional he starts making bad jokes.”

Cordell folded his arms. “Don’t apologize for me,” he said to Hayden. “I’m not one of your students. I’m a grown man.”

“You’re right,” Hayden said. “I’m sorry.”

“
You’re
sorry?” Quinn said, well aware that it wasn’t her place to butt in. She simply couldn’t keep herself from defending her younger brother. Cordell should not be treating him like this. He should be kind, gentle, grateful. “Don’t let him turn this around, Hayden. You’re not the one who’s acting like a creep.”

“No offense, Quinn,” Cordell said, “but this doesn’t really concern you.”

“It
does
concern me, because he’s my brother and I don’t like the way you treat him.”

“Don’t you think the way
he
feels about it is more important than the way
you
feel about it?”

“All I’m saying is that he deserves better.”

“Better than me, you mean?”

The idea that Cordell found that inconceivable drove Quinn to the breaking point. “You can’t even imagine that, right? Who could be better than you? God’s gift to the gay community!”

“Spare me the homophobia,” Cordell said.

Quinn sneered, disgusted. “Just because I think you have an ego the size of Prospect Park doesn’t mean I’m homophobic.”

“Okay, okay,” Hayden said, “I think this is going too far.”

Lewis agreed. “I guess we’re all tired,” he said.

“I’m not tired,” Quinn insisted. “I’m pissed.”

“I know you’re going through a hell of a lot,” Cordell said, his hand on his chest as if he could actually feel her pain in his own heart, “but that doesn’t give you an excuse to treat others badly.”

Quinn’s jaw dropped. The nerve of him to be so condescending! She wanted to explode, to tell him to get the hell out of the house and never come back. But poor Hayden. He’d be crushed if she and Cordell were on the outs.

Lewis, clearly sensing her agitation, put his arm around her. “I think it’s time to call it a night.”

“There’s still a lot of work to do,” Quinn said.

Hayden approached and hugged her. “Are you okay?” he asked.

“I’m fine.” She rubbed her forehead, sensing the beginning of a headache. “Maybe not. I don’t know, but I think it would be best if you guys went home.”

“She’s throwing us out,” Cordell said.

Hayden kissed her on the forehead. “I’ll call you tomorrow.”

Quinn nodded, and then Hayden left with his boyfriend, who couldn’t resist making a joke as they went downstairs toward the front door.

“At least we don’t have to fold any more of those butt-ugly sweaters.”

There was a pause before Hayden replied. “Shut up, Cordell.”

THE SHEER WHITE NEGLIGEE QUINN SLIPPED INTO HAD ALWAYS made her feel sexy. Now, however, with her swollen breasts and darkened nipples straining against the diaphanous fabric, she felt almost embarrassed by her sensuality. She considered taking it off and changing into one of her regular cotton sleep shirts, but stopped herself. It was okay to be hyper-sexy. Lewis would be turned on, and she was aching to sleep with him. It was more than just pregnancy hormones run amok. After that morning’s
Isaac interruptus
, as Lewis called it, she was ready for action.

She walked from the bathroom to the bedroom, where her husband was reading a book about global warming.

“Anything new in the science of climate change?” she asked.

He looked up and his eyes scanned her body. “Temperatures are definitely rising. Get over here.”

Lewis put down his book and Quinn got into bed with him. They kissed, and he brushed a hair from her face.

“You okay?” he asked.

“Yes,” she said. Temperatures were rising indeed. She felt such a surge of heat, it was as if she’d swallowed fire.

“I’m sorry about the paintings,” he said.

“Me, too,” she said, but wasn’t really thinking about much besides the pulsating between her legs.

He kissed one corner of her mouth and then the other. “You didn’t need that extra stress right now.”

“And that Cordell,” she said.

He didn’t respond.

“He was such a jerk,” she said. “Wasn’t he?”

Lewis shrugged. “He was just being Cordell.”

Quinn pulled back and looked at her husband’s face. “You think I was overreacting?”

“It’s understandable.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean it’s understandable that you’re a little more . . . emotional right now.”

“You don’t think Cordell was being a jerk to my brother?”

“I think he was being himself, and so was Hayden. It works for them, Quinn. It’s not really our business.”

She thought about that for a moment. “Hayden thinks I project my own emotional needs onto him.”

Lewis didn’t respond.

“You think that, too?” she pressed.

“I think everyone does that, especially when they’re under a lot of stress. You’re not made out of stone, hon. There comes a point where your resources run out.”

Quinn sat up and positioned her pillow behind her back. “You act like I’m the only one under emotional strain. What about you?”

“I never said I wasn’t under emotional strain.”

“But you don’t talk about it. Not to me, anyway.”

“You have enough on your plate.”

“But I need to know what you’re feeling. You can’t keep closing me out. It’s not good for us.”

He sighed and sat up against the headboard next to her. “What do you want to know?”

“I want to know ...” Quinn leaned over and switched on a light. “I want to know how you feel about the baby.”

He stared off in the distance, his eyes soft and unfocused. It took him a few minutes to answer. “Scared,” he finally said.

She waited for him to continue, but he didn’t. “More,” she said.

“I don’t know what else you want me to say.”

“I want you to say whatever it is you say to your mother, or your sister, or Georgette. You’re holding back. I can feel it. Believe me, whatever it is you have to say isn’t as bad as shutting down on me.”

He took her hand and stared hard at her face. Quinn thought his eyes looked wounded. “The hardest part of this whole thing,” he said, “is that I can’t protect you. I can’t make everything better.”

“You’re more worried about me than the baby.”

“Of course I am. I love you. The baby is just an abstraction to me, especially since . . .”

“Since what?”

He shook his head.

“Since she might not even get a chance to be born?” she offered.

“Right.”

“And I suppose you’ve thought about abortion.”

“Yes, of course,” he said.

“But why didn’t you tell me?”

He pulled the covers over them. “Remember the Ackleys?” he asked.

Robert and Faye Ackley were a couple who had lived down the hall from them in their Queens apartment building. The two couples had become friends, and one Saturday night when they had plans to go out for dinner together, Faye knocked on their door saying she had to cancel because she and Robert had separated. Quinn and Lewis invited her in, and listened to her whole sad story. Their problems, according to Faye, started several years back, when she got pregnant with her third child. Robert said they couldn’t afford another baby, and had pressured her to get an abortion she didn’t want. She thought she could get past it, but it just never went away. She didn’t know if she could ever forgive him, and the strain on their marriage just got to be too much.

“We’re not the Ackleys,” Quinn said.

“I know, but I would never want to put you in that position.”

“So you think it’s all my decision?”

“Maybe not all, but mostly. Mostly your decision, yes. It has to be.”

“But if you got a vote, would you vote to terminate?”

He put his arms out and she leaned in for an embrace. He kissed the top of her head. “Do you really want me to answer that?”

“Yes, but I don’t want you to tell me how you feel about protecting me. I want you to tell me how you feel about fathering a child who might be disabled.”

“Do you remember that flight to Daytona Beach I told you about?”

She did. During college, Lewis and some friends had flown down to Florida on spring break. They were 30,000 feet in the air when a fire broke out in one of the engines, and the flight attendant asked Lewis to switch seats with the elderly man who was in front of the emergency exit, just in case. She wanted to be sure the passenger by the hatch was someone strong enough to open it.

“Of course I remember. You said it was the scariest thing that ever happened to you.”

Lewis nodded. “This is scarier.”

ON MONDAY, Quinn and her brother took Isaac and a friend to the Long Island Children’s Museum. It was Columbus Day, and though Lewis had to work, the schools were closed and the place was jammed. Isaac and his playmate didn’t mind the crowds at all. If anything, the noise and energy excited them. Quinn and Hayden trailed behind, talking, as the boys went from exhibit to exhibit.

“Cordell is back in L.A.,” Hayden said to Quinn.

“Seriously? I thought the soap opera was a done deal.”

Hayden shrugged. “Another audition came up and he said he didn’t want to leave any stone unturned. A movie role is his real goal. Always has been.”

“So what does this mean to you two?”

“Depends whether or not he gets it.”

Forget him
, she wanted to say.
He doesn’t deserve you.
But she wasn’t going to butt in again. She gave his hand a squeeze.

“Mom, look!” Isaac called.

Quinn watched as her son stood on a small, round platform surrounded by a moat of liquid bubble soap. His friend, Ethan, tugged on a pulley and a giant ring rose above Isaac, dragging a soap film with it until Isaac was encased in a giant cylindrical bubble. He squealed with laughter.

After Ethan took a turn, they both insisted that Uncle Hayden give it a try. He stepped onto the platform and the boys pulled and pulled until the ring was above his head.

Quinn couldn’t resist. She stuck her finger into the soap film and popped it.

“You trying to burst my bubble?” Hayden asked, stepping out of the exhibit. He winked at his sister, who laughed.

“If only I could.”

The boys continued on, heading upstairs, with Hayden and Quinn following.

“I know you think I’d be better off without him,” Hayden said. “But he’s all I ever wanted. And I understand that he can be inappropriate and immature and a thousand other negative things. But he can also be spirited and spontaneous and make life so delicious. He’s good for me. And I think I’m good for him, too.”

“You don’t have to sell me, Hayden.”