Summer of '69(114)
The downstairs bedroom is dark and empty. Tiger’s room, Kirby thinks with an ache. Then up the stairs she goes. It’s pitch-black but she doesn’t need a light; this path is ingrained in her muscles and bones. She could navigate Little Fair with her eyes closed.
Bedroom one, Blair’s room, is empty and Kirby could easily lie down and sleep for the next two days straight, but instead she eases open the door to the second bedroom.
Jessie is asleep, splayed across the bed like she fell out of an airplane. Her hair is spread out over her pillow. Kirby has always been jealous of that; Jessie’s hair is as thick and lavish as mink. She doesn’t have a single blemish, either on her face or on her soul. Oh, how Kirby wishes she could go back to this age and start over.
She lifts the dead weight of Jessie’s arm and slides into bed next to her. Jessie stirs, and one eye flutters open.
“Who is it?”
“It’s me. Kirby.”
Jessie hugs Kirby with a ferocity that is childlike in its enthusiasm and adult in its strength. “Welcome home,” Jessie says. “I missed you.”
Kirby sighs as she closes her eyes. It has been a long day.
Get Back
The twins are eight days old when Neil Armstrong, Buzz Aldrin, and Michael Collins reenter the Earth’s atmosphere. The only communication Blair has received from Angus is the telegram, now also eight days old. He hasn’t called Blair at the hospital or at home, which means…what?
Blair received a dozen pink roses from Joey Whalen and a card that said Congrats, Sis! This, she notes, is a far cry from I loved you first. Eternally yours, Joey.
Blair feels untethered, like an astronaut whose lifeline to the mother ship has been cut. She’s alone, aimless, abandoned.
Kirby shows up fresh off the ferry from the Vineyard and Blair brightens. She has her confidante back. But when Blair tells Kirby how bereft she feels because she has managed to lose both Angus and Joey, Kirby puts her hands on her hips and delivers a lecture. “What would Betty Friedan say? You don’t need a man. You can raise these twins by yourself. I’ll help. We’ll all help.”
Blair is skeptical about this. And to add insult to injury, she still looks pregnant! She isn’t as big as she was just before she delivered the babies; she’s back to where she was in month four or five. Her breasts are gigantic and as heavy as sandbags, her nipples two points of fire.
Despite this, Blair loves nursing the twins. When their tiny mouths tug, the milk flows out of her, just as it’s supposed to, and her body practically glows with relief. The only time she relaxes is when one of the twins is latched on, even though she suspects she looks like a cow. Kate keeps telling her there’s “no shame” in switching to formula.
“They need me, Mother,” Blair says. “Just let me do this.”
Everyone loves the babies! Kate, David, Jessie, even Exalta. Kirby ends up being the most helpful of all. She’s a natural with the babies, and she always remembers to bring Blair a tall glass of ice water and a cold bottle of beer before each feeding time. Blair gets desperately thirsty the instant the twins latch on, and beer is supposed to increase a mother’s milk supply. This might be just an old wives’ tale, but Blair doesn’t want to find out. The beer always lightens her mood.
Kirby isn’t put off by the zeppelins that Blair’s breasts have become, and she offers words of encouragement, calling Blair “Mama.” As soon as one twin is done feeding, Kirby takes him or her to the rocker until she gets a burp.
“Just so you know,” Kirby says, “I’m singing protest songs in their ears.”
“I wouldn’t have it any other way,” Blair says.
It’s also Kirby who brings her, finally, a second telegram from Angus.
FLYING BACK TOMORROW. WILL ARRIVE NANTUCKET SATURDAY AT NOON.
“Angus is coming to Nantucket,” Blair says. “Saturday.” Suddenly, she feels faint. “What am I going to do?”
“You’re going to talk,” Kirby says. “And you are going to stand up for yourself. You’re a wonderful mother but you have many other talents that will go to waste if you don’t use them. Angus needs to acknowledge that.”
“Okay?” Blair says.
“Tell you what,” Kirby says. “If you think you can handle the babies by yourself for a little while, I’ll get everyone out of here on Saturday. I’ll plan a boat outing so that you and Angus can have some time alone.”
“Thank you,” Blair says. She decides not to tell Kate or Exalta that Angus is coming—in case he doesn’t stay.
On Saturday, Kirby does exactly as she’s promised and gets the whole family—including David, who is back again this weekend—to head out to Coatue in the Whaler. Kate hesitates to go, not wanting to leave Blair alone, but Blair insists she’ll be fine. She’ll need to learn to take care of her own children without help sooner or later.
As soon as they all troop off toward the Field and Oar Club carrying the life preservers and a picnic basket, Blair feeds and burps the babies one by one, and they barely fuss at all. Both of them look at Blair with round, watchful eyes, as though they know something important is about to happen.
“That’s right,” Blair says. “You’re going to meet your father today.” She tears up—her emotions have been unmanageable since she gave birth—and she realizes her biggest fear isn’t that Angus doesn’t want her but that he doesn’t want the babies. He was the one who got her pregnant and in so doing quashed her hopes of pursuing a graduate degree, and he was the one who had the gall to conduct an affair. His behavior has been unforgivable and yet Blair wants, very badly, to forgive him. She is in love with these children, and only eight days after they arrived, she can’t imagine life without them.