All the Rage(66)

“You seem more—” I try to find the words. “I mean, since I saw you at Swan’s…”

“Oh, right. That was a weird day. I don’t know.” She shrugs a little, embarrassed. “It’s just … my pregnancy was so miserable and I felt so out of control for most of it. I like being in control.”

“Me too,” I say.

“So I thought, I just have to have her and everything is going to fall into place because I’ll have myself back, that part will be where it should be again. But the car accident made me realize how out of my hands all of it is … I got really scared.”

“Are you still scared?”

She nods. “But I have to deal with it because she’s here now.”

The front door opens. Leon and Adam come in carrying bag after bag of whatever it is you run out of in the weeks you bring a newborn home, which must be everything.

“What is that amazing smell?” Adam asks.

“Romy’s lasagne,” Caro says. “She brought us an entire week’s worth of food.”

“Wow. That’s fantastic. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome and congratulations.”


“Thanks for that too. She up yet?” Adam asks and as if on cue, these tiny, grainy cries sound through the baby monitor I didn’t notice on the counter. Adam’s face lights up. “See, she knows I’m home.”

“You get the baby,” Caro says.

Adam takes the stairs two at a time while Caro gets a bottle ready. My hands start to sweat. I rub them on my pant legs and try to look like, I don’t know. I hope I don’t look like I want to hold a baby. It’s not long before Adam’s come down with Ava bundled in soft blue blankets in his arms. She’s still crying.

“There’s my favorite niece,” Leon says. He plants a kiss on her forehead.

“Okay, here we go,” Adam says. Caro holds out the bottle to him. “Here we go…”

“Latching issues,” Caro explains, like it’s something she has to justify. Or maybe she was already forced to. “So…”

“I was bottle-fed from day one,” I tell her. She gives me a small smile.

Adam watches Ava. I can only see a little of her from here, a bit of black hair, the side of her face. Caro turns to me and says, “Ava’s kind of fussy about being held before she’s fed, but after she’s fed, she’s fine.”

“Oh.” I swallow. “Okay.”

The rich scent of tomato and cheese fills the air while Leon tells Caro and Adam about how he was contacted by a New York Times bestselling author who wants him to redesign his site. Big project, big payout. He’s happy.

“Look at you,” Caro says. “That’s great.”

“Yeah,” I say. “It is.”

But my eyes are on Adam and Ava, my stomach knotting, waiting for the moment they’ll pass her to me. I don’t know why I didn’t just say it, I don’t want to hold her.

Just before the lasagne is done, Caro takes Ava from Adam. She coos at her for a minute, stroking her cheek. “You want to meet Romy?” She grins at me. “You look terrified.”

“I’ve never held a baby before,” I say.

It doesn’t deter her. Caro brings Ava to me, nestling her in my arms. “Not much to it at all. Just make sure you support her head—cradle her like—there you go. You’ve got it. Ava, this is Romy. Your Uncle Leon’s sweet on her.”

Leon laughs softly.

“Hi, Ava,” I whisper.

Her weight is in my arms, my palm cradling the swath of blankets cushioning her head. She’s got more hair than I thought a newborn would and her skin looks so smooth, so soft. She’s sleepy and full, her eyes half-open and not tracking anything. She yawns and shifts a little, and I feel it through the blanket, her legs pushing out, and it startles me enough that I flinch.

It gets so quiet, them watching me, watching her. I should say something but I still can’t find words, not the right ones. Because I can’t stand this. Because Caro’s right. She should be scared. Everything’s out of her hands now. All the things coming Ava’s way they won’t be able to control, things she won’t always ask for because she’s a girl. She doesn’t even know how hard it’s going to be yet, but she will, because all girls find out. And I know it’s going to be hard for Ava in ways I’ve never had to or will ever have to experience and I want to apologize to her now, before she finds out, like I wish someone had to me. Because maybe it would be better if we all got apologized to first. Maybe it would hurt less, expecting to be hurt.

“Okay.” Caro gently takes Ava from my arms. “Oven’s about to go. I’m going to put Ava down for a nap and then we’re going to eat.”

“Can I use your bathroom?” I ask.

“Sure. I’ll show you where it is.” She turns to the boys. “Set the table.”

Caro leads me to the downstairs bathroom. I lock the door and rest against it a minute, waiting for whatever moment this is to pass, for my throat and chest to feel less tight, but all of it, it just gets worse.

You think she was raped before she was in the water?

I press my palms against my eyes.

Don’t.

*