Perfect Little World(36)
If her baby cried, she placed him on her breast and she felt proud that she could give him exactly what he needed. She changed his diapers and swaddled him and rocked him and kept taking pictures of him with her camera phone, blurry images of something that looked as much like an animal as it did a human.
Mr. Tannehill came into the room, his baseball cap in his hands. He had been in the waiting room until a nurse came out to tell him that the baby had been delivered, when he went back home, back to work, until he could make it back to her. He seemed slightly nervous to be in the room, though he admitted that it was because he’d left the new pit boy in charge and had no idea what to expect from him. He had a plastic shopping bag and he opened it to reveal ten perfect ball-in-cage carvings, the wood a rich, beautiful blond. “I figured it wouldn’t be right to give it to just your baby, seeing as how this project is supposed to work,” he told her, “so I made one for each baby. I hope they’ll like ’em. At the very least, it’ll keep those babies occupied.” Izzy thanked him profusely, shaking her head at the sheer work that had been involved.
“You made a beautiful little boy, Izzy,” he told her, and she held the baby out to him. She had thought he would politely refuse, but he took the baby into his arms and the baby readjusted and fell back to sleep. “You look like an old pro,” Izzy told him, and then she took a photo of the two of them with her phone.
“Are you doing okay?” he asked her and she nodded.
“I keep waiting to get tired but I feel pretty excited.”
“The tired will come, you can bet on that,” Mr. Tannehill said. “Enjoy this time while you have it.”
They sat in silence for a few minutes, Mr. Tannehill studying the baby with what looked like great affection.
“What’s his name?” he suddenly asked her.
“I haven’t decided yet,” Izzy said, slightly chastened by the admission. For so long, she had imagined that she would name him Hal, though she now knew that she couldn’t do that. It would be a sad reminder of a life that didn’t happen, and she knew it would be a mistake. She had thought about Carson or Flannery, after Flannery O’Connor and Carson McCullers, two of her favorite writers, but they didn’t seem to fit now, either. There were no family names that appealed to her, and it didn’t seem to make sense to use them anyway, as if they had mattered to her. She had the form next to her bed, but still couldn’t imagine filling it out.
“What’s your name?” she asked Mr. Tannehill.
“Izzy, you know my name,” he said.
“I don’t, actually. I’ve only ever known you as Mr. Tannehill. I don’t believe I’ve ever heard anyone refer to you as anything other than that.”
He shook his head, as if he’d committed a social mistake and could not live it down. “Seems like friends should know each other’s names,” he said. “It’s Cap. My mom’s maiden name was Caplin, and Cap was the compromise between my parents.”
“I like it,” Izzy said. If there was a person who had been kinder to her than Mr. Tannehill, she didn’t know who it was. She remembered that early morning when she had come to his trailer, had admitted to the baby, and how he had been the first person to tell her that she could do it. “Cap Poole,” she said, and found that the name fit perfectly in her imagination.
“You don’t want to think about it?” Mr. Tannehill asked.
“I just did,” Izzy replied. “I’m going to name him after the best man I’ve ever known.”
Mr. Tannehill teared up and then looked down at the baby in his arms. He held out his free hand and touched Izzy’s own hand, gripping it tightly. “If I had any money, Izzy, I would give you every dime. I have thought of you like my daughter, if I have to be honest about it. I know I’m not your father and I don’t pretend that I could be, but you’ve meant the world to me since we started working together. I don’t entirely know what to make of this project, and I hate that you’re moving away, but I hope it gives you everything that you and this little boy deserve.”
“If you’d been my dad, Mr. Tannehill,” Izzy said, “life would have been a lot easier for me.”
“I guess you don’t get to choose your family,” Mr. Tannehill said, “but you get to choose your friends, and I’m glad you’re my friend.” The baby roused and started to cry; Mr. Tannehill seemed shocked to remember that he was holding the baby, and he handed him back to Izzy. She opened her gown to feed him and Mr. Tannehill stood to leave. “I’ll give you some privacy,” he said, but she asked him to stay, and he sat back in the chair. After she fed the baby, she practiced his name over and over in her mind, Cap, and she found that the name easily attached itself to the boy in her arms. After about fifteen minutes, a nurse came into the room and told Izzy that someone else was here to see her and the baby. Mr. Tannehill stood and then leaned over Izzy and the baby. He kissed Izzy on the forehead and then he waved good-bye to Cap. She promised that she would visit him as soon as she could, would write him letters and stay in touch, and he said he’d be happy to hear from her whenever she could manage. “Be strong, Izzy,” he told her, and then he walked out of the room, his tall frame filling up the doorway.
A few seconds later, Dr. Grind appeared in her room, carrying a small basket of gifts with a blue ribbon tied to the handle. It was not his fault, of course, but his proximity to Mr. Tannehill, now the namesake of her only child, made her slightly disappointed to see him. He was a symbol of change, at the very moment that Izzy wanted everything to stay the same, frozen at this singular moment.