Part 5
June lowered the grocery bag and looked at Mara. “You wanted me there?”
“I did.”
“I called. Graham said you weren’t up to it.”
“I know that now.”
June put the bag on the floor. Ellis lifted his head awkwardly from Graham’s shoulder, searching for the sound of her voice, and Graham supported it with his palm.
“I thought I’d done something wrong,” June said. “Or you just needed different people.”
Mara stepped onto the porch and took her hand. Graham stood inside the doorway, listening while June described a message she’d started and never sent, afraid that one more offer would make things worse. He remembered the calls he’d answered. He couldn’t remember which one had been the last.
“I wasn’t ready to see anybody,” he said. “I kept saying Mara wasn’t.”
June looked at him, her cheeks bright. “That was a rotten thing to do.”
“Yes.”
He wanted to tell her about the box on the shelf and the work he hadn’t been able to stop doing. He let her look at him instead. After a moment she bent to retrieve the bread.
“Where am I putting this?”
He stepped aside and let her in.
June washed her hands before approaching Ellis. She asked whether she could hold him, and Graham looked at Mara. Mara nodded, then told June where to sit.
Graham helped settle him against her arm the way the nurse had shown him. He watched June bring her face close to the baby’s, keeping her voice soft despite the tears still drying on her cheeks.
“Well, you’re very handsome,” she told him. “That’s going to be a nuisance later.”
Ellis made his dissatisfied little face. June laughed, and Mara sat beside her, correcting the pronunciation of his middle name.
Graham went to the kitchen. He sliced the bread too thickly and put the slices on a plate. He could hear the women talking about the salon, a coworker’s retirement party Mara had missed, the baby. No one asked him to explain the MRI from the beginning.
When he brought the plate out, Mara said she wanted to take a short walk with June. She’d asked her that morning, before Graham knew she was coming.
“I’d like to get to the end of the street,” she said. “If my legs cooperate.”
June handed Ellis back to him. Mara found her shoes, stopping to rest one hand on the chair while she pushed her feet into them. Graham bent to straighten the back of one heel.
“His milk’s in the refrigerator,” she said. “He may want it before we’re back.”
“Okay.”
She reached for the dog leash. Birdie rose so quickly that her back feet skidded. This time, when Mara opened the door, Graham remained beside the chair with the baby. The dog looked back once, then followed the two women onto the porch.
Graham sat down. He had fed Ellis in the NICU and changed him in the night, but with Mara outside he heard every uneven sound his son made. The refrigerator switched on. A car passed.
Ellis began to cry. Graham checked his diaper, warmed and tested the milk. The baby turned away from the bottle and grew angrier.
“I know,” Graham said, though he didn’t.
He tried again, supporting Ellis’s head, and got a few hurried swallows before the baby stopped. Graham lowered the bottle and let him rest. There was milk on the collar of his clean shirt now. He wiped Ellis’s chin and looked at the clock.
For a moment he rehearsed telling Mara everything had been fine. Then he called her.
“He’s taken a little,” he said. “He keeps turning away. I don’t know whether he’s tired or I’m holding him wrong.”
He heard Birdie’s tags shake near the phone. Mara asked how much milk he’d had and whether his breathing looked comfortable. Graham answered both questions. He waited while she thought.
“Give him a break,” she said. “You can try again in a bit. I’ll be there if he still won’t take it.”
“You don’t have to hurry back.”
“I’m not going far.”
He rested the bottle on the table and held Ellis against his shoulder. The crying eased into little complaints. Graham stood, moved slowly around the room, and told him which floorboard always squeaked when his mother came downstairs early.
Ellis stayed awake. He listened with his mouth slightly open, his right hand resting against Graham’s shirt and his left tucked close to his body. Graham adjusted the supporting arm beneath him instead of waiting for the baby to straighten himself.
When Mara and June came back, he was still walking. Birdie entered first, drank noisily, and lay near the front door. Mara took off her shoes and leaned against the wall for a moment.
“He settled,” Graham said. “He hasn’t had the rest yet.”
“Let’s see if he’ll try now.”
She stood beside him as he offered the bottle. Ellis took it more slowly this time. After a minute Mara went to wash her hands.
June was looking at the old photographs on their bookcase. Graham followed her gaze to the picture of Mara and her mother, taken years before either pregnancy. Ada’s box was still upstairs.
“I can come Tuesday afternoon,” June said. “About two hours. After that I’ve got somebody who’ll complain if her roots don’t get done.”
Mara came back drying her hands. “Tuesday would help. I’ll tell you what we need.”
Graham reached into the kitchen drawer and found the spare house key. He held it out to Mara, who put it in June’s palm.
“Call me,” Mara said. “You don’t have to go through him.”
June closed her fingers around it. Graham sat back down with Ellis, who watched the bright window as he drank. When he tired, Graham set the unfinished bottle aside and held him upright.
Mara spread butter on a slice of bread. June asked about the cream-and-blue blanket draped over the drying rack, and Mara told her which squares her mother had sewn. She held up the awkward corner for June to inspect. June touched it, then asked to see how big the whole thing was.
Graham watched them unfold it between them, above the dishes he hadn’t put away. Mara was still in the wrinkled clothes she’d worn home from the hospital. June had flour on one sleeve from the grocery bag. Ellis made a sleepy sound against his shoulder, and Graham shifted to give him room.
He pulled the empty chair out with his foot. June sat down beside Mara, and Graham passed her the plate.