“Going through with the pregnancy was Sue’s decision. It’s what she wanted.”
“Yeah, and it killed her.”
“You need to give her a name, Matt.”
“You name her. I gotta get out of here, Mom.”
“Matt, stay away from that bar. You’re drinking too much.”
“No, I’m not drinking enough!”
I watched as Matt left, slamming the door behind him. Grandma cradled me in her thick arms and sang me a sweet lullaby. She kissed my forehead and named me Sarah, after her favorite woman of the Bible. “It means princess,” she said, “and that’s what you are. Grandma’s little princess.”
I always thought Matt resented me, but I never knew why. I knew my mom had died in childbirth, but I never knew from what. Grandma, who raised me, never wanted to talk about it. And Matt, well, let’s just say he wasn’t in the running for Father of the Year Award. He spent most of his time on a bar stool at the local watering hole around the corner from our house. His drinking got so bad that Grandma eventually kicked him out and she became my legal guardian. The day I became Grandma’s was the happiest day of my life. Ever. I finally belonged to someone who loved me, really loved me.
“Oh, Tom!” Elizabeth says. “Not another one. You’re going to spoil her. We’ve only had her for three days and you’ve already brought home four stuffed animals.”
Tom picks up Olivia. “How’s Daddy’s little girl today?” and kisses her chubby pink cheek. “Tell Mommy that daddies are supposed to spoil their little girls.”
Elizabeth walks over, bags under her eyes and hair thrown back in a lopsided ponytail. She puts her arms around Tom and Olivia.
“How was your day, Liz?” Tom asks.
“Despite not getting enough sleep and hanging in my pajamas most of the day because I didn’t have the energy to shower, I’d say things are going pretty well.”
“It’ll get better,” Tom says. “Every new parent feels the way you do.”
“I know,” Elizabeth says. “Don’t get me wrong, I’m happy that we have the family we’ve always wanted. Just happened so fast and I wasn’t as prepared as I thought I’d be.”
“You’re doing just fine, Liz. Don’t beat yourself up.”
“But I want to do everything right for her. I want to be the best mommy I can.”
“And you are,” Tom says. “You love her. That’s what’s most important.”
Tom kisses Elizabeth on her forehead and she leaves to order pizza — the night before it was Chinese — because she’s too tired to cook. Tom rocks Olivia and tells her about his day in the ER.
“And then Daddy had to stitch a woman’s hand because she cut it while slicing a bagel. And next, a mommy brought in a little boy who had swallowed a tiny Lego piece he had found while crawling on the floor. And that was Daddy’s day, Libby Love.”
And he kisses her forehead and places his index finger onto her tiny palm. Olivia’s fingers curl around his, hugging it so tightly her knuckles turn white.
So Olivia’s dad’s a doctor. I had learned while recording an earlier moment that her mom was a nurse. Reminded me of what a deadbeat dad I had. I tried to forget the day Matt lost his job, but Wendy’s montage of my life included this moment.
“Just look at you,” Grandma said. “You smell like the bottle and you look like an unmade bed. No wonder you lost your job, Matt. You’ve got to pull yourself together. No one’s going to hire you looking like that.”
Matt punched the brown frayed chair he stood next to. “Just take care of her. Don’t worry about me.”
I hadn’t realized until I saw my life moments one after another how seldom, if ever, Matt referred to me by my name. I was always “she” or “her” or “the baby” or “that girl” or “that kid”. There were very few times when he said “Sarah”. I wondered if he avoided saying my name because it made me seem more human, more difficult to blame and hate. As he would any enemy, I think he preferred to keep me at a distance.
Elizabeth walks into the room. “You hold her so much you’re going to spoil her,” she tells Tom, who is still rocking Olivia.
Elizabeth walks over to Tom and lightly brushes Olivia’s tiny head. She doesn’t have much hair and what she does have is so light that she looks bald.
“I love watching her sleep,” Tom says. “She looks so peaceful.”
Elizabeth smiles. “Makes you wonder how something so beautiful can come out of so much ugliness.”
Ugliness, I thought. You haven’t seen ugly until you’ve seen Matt come home drunk and wreck our home.
“Matt, stop,” Grandma yelled. “Stop or I’ll call the police.”
Matt just laughed and held a lamp in his hand. “You won’t call the police. You never call the police,” he said, his words slurring together so you couldn’t tell where one stopped and the next one began.
Grandma carried me, then three, into her room and locked the door. I heard glass breaking and Matt cursing. I heard what sounded like furniture flipping over. Then I heard a knock on the door. It was the police.
I buried my head in Grandma’s chest. I loved being so close to her heart. Its beating always soothed me. We watched as the police led Matt away. The house was a disaster. That was the beginning of the end. That was ugliness.
“Wait until I tell Daddy that you got your first tooth,” Elizabeth says as she changes Olivia’s diaper. “And guess what today is? Your six-month birthday! That’s half of a year.”
Elizabeth pulls pink pants over Olivia’s diaper then slips a pink top with brown polka dots over her tiny head. She picks up a basket filled with hair wear and slips a pink stretchy headband over Olivia’s head, positioning the flower on the right side, toward the front. “You’re getting so big. Yes, you are.”
Elizabeth picks up Olivia and twirls her around, and Olivia giggles. Elizabeth stops and pulls Olivia into her chest and kisses her cheek.
“I love you so much, Princess Libby. You’ll always be my princess, my little girl.”
A tear slides down Elizabeth’s cheek and her smile swallows her creamy face.
“Look, Matt,” Grandma said as he walked into the kitchen.
I sat in the metal high chair giggling as Grandma pretended the spoon was an airplane and made airplane noises as she flew the spoon toward my mouth.
“Coming in for a landing,” Grandma said. “Open wide.”
I opened my mouth and Grandma slid the spoon in, scooping up the cereal that slid from my rubbery lips onto my chin.
Matt walked over. “What did you want to show me?”
“Sarah’s got her first tooth. See it there? On the bottom? That little piece of white poking through her gum.”
“Yeah, so what? She’s got a damn tooth. I have a mouthful.”
“Matt, it’s your baby’s first tooth.”
“She’s more your baby than mine,” said Matt, pouring a cup of coffee and walking away.
He paused when he got to the door and turned around. “The tooth is nice.”
“Where did you find that?” Elizabeth asks Tom as