The Family Next Door(43)

Was that so much to ask?

It was just that her mum was such a natural mother and grandmother. Once upon a time, Essie had thought she would be a natural mother. The first time had clearly been a disaster, but this time, she’d had higher hopes for herself.

So much for that.

Essie had already left a couple of messages for Ben, even though she knew he had a busy day at work today. She was looking for a sympathetic ear, but all she got was his answering machine. She sat on the couch and tried to breast-feed Polly to sleep (again). Through the window she could see her mum’s driveway, so she’d know the moment her mum got home.

“Mummy!” Mia whined, pointing to the TV. “It’s finished.”

“Something else will come on in a minute,” Essie said tiredly.

“What will come on?”

Essie tried to remember what day it was. On Monday and Tuesdays Peppa Pig was up next, on Wednesday, Thursday, and Friday it was Sesame Street. Essie was shamefully aware of which kid shows were on which day, just not so great at remembering what day it actually was. She thought hard.

It was … Thursday.

Shit. Her mum went to the movies with Lois on Thursdays. So that’s where she was. Essie felt a shameful wave of jealousy. Sometimes, when she had a moment to herself, Essie would fantasize about being retired. The endless, empty calendar filled with whatever she wanted. Sleep, evenings out, movies. She could take up a hobby, go on vacation somewhere that wasn’t kid-friendly. Go to the theater. Stay up all night reading, and then sleep it off the next day. Her mum was constantly doing that. She’d come over to Essie’s midmorning and hand her a thick novel that she’d stayed up all night to finish. “You must read it,” she’d exclaim. Essie would stare at it as if it was a foreign body. Read? An actual book (and not about parenting)? When was she supposed to do that?

“Sesame Street is on,” Essie told Mia, and she promptly started to wail again. Essie felt like wailing herself.

There was a knock at the door.

Essie shimmied from her chair, with Polly still attached to her breast (but utterly and irretrievably awake). As she wandered over to the door, Essie wondered if giving her a shot of whisky, like they did in the old days, really was such a bad idea.

“Hi,” Isabelle said, when Essie threw open the door. Then her face fell. “Are you all right?”

“I’m … yes, well, I’m … it’s just that…”

Essie found herself unable to finish the sentence. The words she needed had momentarily (or perhaps permanently) left her, and all the alternative words seemed to be mushed and jumbled and running together. In the meantime, Polly had unlatched and was smiling gummily at Isabelle while milk leaked through Essie’s shirt. Mia was throwing a fit to the Sesame Street theme song.

“Give her to me,” Isabelle said, taking Polly and shutting the door behind her. Mia, seeing they had company, quieted down and stared at Isabelle.

“Don’t like Sesame Street?” Isabelle asked Mia.

“The bird,” Mia said. “He’s too big.”

“Big Bird?” Isabelle said. “I know what you mean. No bird is that big in real life. Quite frankly, it’s ridiculous.”

Mia nodded seriously.

‘Tell you what, why don’t we put a movie on instead?’

Essie went and changed her shirt. By the time she got back Isabelle and Mia were on the floor and Mia was telling her that Big Bird was even taller than her daddy who was really tall and wasn’t that silly? Also yellow wasn’t her favorite color, it was her third favorite after pink and purple and sometimes green. Amazingly, Isabelle managed to follow the conversation as well as provide meaningful commentary, put on the movie (The Little Mermaid) and stop the meltdown all while holding Polly in her lap. Polly, newly animated by the surprise guest, had lost any trace of drowsiness brought on by the breast-feeding, but watching them, Essie found it hard to be upset.

“Shouldn’t you be at work?” Essie asked.

Isabelle was dressed in skinny black jeans and a racer-back white tank that didn’t look very workish. Her bra was black, and a single lacy strap crept up her spine and split into two at her nape.

“I took the day off,” Isabelle told her. “And lucky I did. You look like you could use some help.”

Essie fell onto the couch. “I do. Not that you can tell now. Clearly you have a gift with my children.” She gestured to Mia who sat so close to Isabelle she was practically on her lap.

Isabelle smiled. “Your mum isn’t around today?”

“She’s at the movies! Can you believe her?”

“The gall!”

“I know, right?”

Essie giggled, then sighed. “The wheels have just fallen off today. It’s Polly, mostly. She used to be my dream baby and now … well, she’s decided to develop a backbone like her sister. I don’t know where they get it from. Neither Ben nor I have backbones.” She giggled again. She was delirious, clearly.

“So Mia wasn’t a dream baby?”

Essie shrugged. “It was me, really. The fact is, Mia could have been the most wonderful baby in the world and I wouldn’t have appreciated it.”

Isabelle laid a hand over Essie’s, giving it a short squeeze. Essie felt an unexpected, deep sense of peace.