The School for Good Mothers(81)

Susanna tells Frida that her due date is December 20. They decided not to find out the gender. “There are so few real surprises in life,” Susanna says.

In the background, Gust has been coaxing Harriet to say hello, reminding her that the woman on-screen is Mommy. He stands Harriet on his lap so Frida can see how tall she’s grown. Three inches since March. Five pounds heavier. The pediatrician made them stop the low-carb diet.

Harriet’s face has matured. Frida watches the seconds pass at the bottom of the screen. The computer lab is quieter than she remembers. No one is sniffling. No one is yelling. She tries to summon her lobotomy voice. The breathing exercises fail her. She wants to cry. Harriet’s face remains slender. Her hair has been cut as short as a boy’s. She looks elfin now, like Susanna.

Susanna potty trained Harriet a month ago, used the three-day method. They rolled up the carpets, did a whole naked weekend.

“She got it right away,” Susanna says.

Within the first hour of having her diaper off, Harriet started talking more.

“The first thing she said on day one was ‘Put a diaper on me. Put a diaper on my butt.’ She’s been cracking us up. It’s like we unleashed her mind. She told me, ‘I’m not a baby anymore! I’m a big kid!’ I wish you could have been there. Harriet is so good at listening to her body.”

“I’m such a big kid,” Harriet says.

Frida grimaces. Gust and Susanna laugh. Two minutes remain. Frida looks down at her talking points. She manages to say, “Congratulations.” Manages to thank Susanna for her efforts and refer to Harriet’s pixie cut as “striking.” She refrains from asking why Susanna thought she was allowed to cut it.

“Happy belated,” Gust says. “Mommy turned four zero this week. Let’s sing to her.” Mindful of the time, they sing the song at double-tempo.

“Thank you.” Reading from her notes, Frida praises Harriet’s resilience, thanks Gust and Susanna for their time and care. The desperate look in her daughter’s eyes makes her want to crawl into a hole.

Ms. Gibson gives everyone the thirty-second warning.

“Hare-bear, what else do you want to tell Mommy?” Gust asks.

Harriet shouts, “Mommy, you come back! Come back right now!”

She continues shouting “Now! Now!” as Frida speaks over her.

“I miss you. I miss you so much. I love you, baby. Mommy’s heart actually aches. It feels like someone’s squeezing it.” She makes a fist and waves it at the screen.

Harriet mimics her. Before the call ends, the last thing Frida sees is Harriet making a tiny fist and pretending to squeeze her heart.



* * *



For Frida, the following week’s role-plays feel especially cruel. Peaceful communication with stepparents. Mother talking to stepmother. Father to stepfather. These strangers who have replaced them and now siphon off their child’s love.

Whoever wrote the scripts understands women. The lines are passive-aggressive with a touch of birth mother as martyr. Frida’s anger is authentic, but her cooldown lacks conviction. She didn’t mean to talk about a heart being squeezed, hopes she won’t be punished for it. They’ll joke about it when Harriet is older. It will be their code for sorrow and longing. In truth, the sorrow barely touches her heart at all. She feels Susanna’s pregnancy in her lower back, in her neck and shoulders, her teeth. The baby must have been conceived soon after Harriet’s second birthday. She imagines Harriet rubbing Susanna’s belly. Gust and Susanna talking to the baby while they’re in bed. The three of them going to the doctor. Harriet seeing the ultrasounds, watching the baby move.

Susanna shouldn’t be the one giving her daughter life lessons. The family court judge should know that Frida could give Harriet a sibling too. A sibling who looks like her. A Chinese sibling, a brunette. With Harriet’s same eyes and skin tone. In Gust and Susanna’s family, Harriet will always look like she’s adopted. Strangers will always ask questions. If they’re having their own baby, why do they need hers?

During class, Frida daydreams about another wedding. Tucker in a three-piece suit. Dark pinstripes, not a tuxedo. A pink gown for her. A secret tribute to where they met. A bouquet of anemones. They’ll have the wedding in Chicago. She’ll do everything her mother requested the first time. Invite more of her parents’ friends and colleagues. Have a tea ceremony. Wear a veil. Pin up her hair. Wear a red qipao for the reception. Play music the older relatives can dance to. Allow more time for family portraits. Later, have a banquet for their baby’s hundred days. Make her husband learn Mandarin.

The counselor is concerned about Frida’s mental stamina. “I know how much you were looking forward to this call. It must be hard to see your ex-husband moving on.”

“He moved on a long time ago. I’m aware of that.” Frida says she’s glad Harriet will have a sibling, that she’s happy for them.

“I’m just worried that my daughter won’t get enough attention. After the baby arrives. Linda said the transition from one to two kids is the hardest. If I were home, I could help her. She’s going through so many changes. We’re going to be reunited in the same month that she gets a new sibling, aren’t we? We didn’t even get to talk about preschool. This was supposed to be my turn to talk to her, but Susanna—”