When I became a mother, nothing changed, much to my disappointment. It was silly of me, thinking things would be different. Not just Martin, but life. I thought things might look different somehow, like looking through a new pair of lenses; I thought the world would make either more or less sense; I thought I’d feel like a grown-up. Like a real woman.
But the trees on Meadow Lane still looked the same. The sidewalks are still filled with cracks. Step on a crack and break your mother’s back, that’s what my half-sister Rita and I used to say as we skipped and hopped over fissures in sidewalks when we were little. Since our mothers weren’t around, we didn’t care if we cursed them or not.
Mailboxes on Meadow Lane all looked the same. Houses loomed like old ghosts and the walls of my apartment with Martin still closed in on me. Sometimes I don’t know if it’s the walls, really, or if it’s my own skin that’s too itchy, too narrow, too tight…
Lily was tiny and flimsy. She cried, she cooed, and I was terrified to be her mother. I tried to keep her quiet all the time, so as not to upset Martin, but sometimes that wasn’t always possible. Other women said, ‘Don’t worry. When she gets here, you’ll be a natural’. Lies. All lies.
I’m still the same woman I was before I gave birth to my daughter. Still that same girl from ten years ago, retainer sliding around her teeth and clumsy paws for hands. I’m still me, but I’m not me. And when I look in the mirror, I wonder: where did I go? It’s like there are all these versions of me walking around town: the unwanted child, the gawky teen, the free-spirited adult, the abused wife, the inexperienced mother…and none of them are who I want to be, not really. There’s me and then there’s the reflection of me—these are two very different things.
Today was my last day of my community service down at the soup kitchen. I rarely left the house anymore, unless it was for my “punishment” the court assigned. I say “punishment” but it feels like a gift, getting out of the house and away from Martin’s watchful eyes and a break from Lily’s beggary.
As I parked at the curb in front of 609 Meadow Lane, I was relieved not to see Martin’s truck. I let myself inside the apartment and set my purse on the kitchen counter. I could hear Lily’s bubbly laughter, sweet and melodic, floating down the hall from her bedroom. The door was closed and when I pushed it open, my face broke out into a smile. My eyes tickled with tears, the kind of tears that spring up and catch you by surprise. Lily was sitting in the middle of her bedroom floor playing patty cake with Rachel. They both looked up at me and smiled.
“Mommy’s home,” Rachel squealed, in that childlike, singsongy voice that all adults tend to use when they’re in the presence of cute, chubby-faced babies.
“How was it?” she asked, standing up and lifting Lily from the floor. She passed her to me and I squeezed her tight, sucking in her sweet baby smells of lotion and spoiled milk.
“Went f-fine. I’ll sort of m-miss helping out d-down there. Does that s-sound crazy?”
Rachel stroked the soft little curls around Lily’s neck. “No, of course not. It’s nice to get out, Nova. You should do it more often. And just because you’re not assigned there anymore, doesn’t mean you can’t ask to volunteer on your own.” Strangely, the idea had never crossed my mind. Probably because Martin would never agree to it. I was lucky enough to be allowed to have Rachel over as a babysitter on my community service days.
I nodded, my eyes glazing over as I stared at the tightly drawn blinds in Lily’s room. She rarely saw the sun and I almost wished I could have taken her down to the soup kitchen with me. She would have enjoyed the sights and the smells, and the kind people, who were just so happy to receive a hot meal.
“M-Martin isn’t home yet,” I said, more to myself than to Rachel.
I could feel her staring, her eyes burning holes in the side of my face. “We’re alone for once,” she spoke, softly.
I snapped out of my daze. Lily was wiggling around in my arms, eager to run around on the floor. I eased her down, the movement still awkward and scary for me even though she wasn’t tiny anymore, and she quickly raced across the carpet toward her basket of toys.
“What d-do you m-mean by that?”
“I just mean, he’s always here. That’s all. I’m always happy to come watch Lily for you, for any reason. Even if you just want to take a walk, or sleep.”
“Thank you, Rachel. I appreciate all your h-help. With watching after Lily, and…my pr-pregnancy with M-Matthew.”
“How are you feeling? Would you like me to give you a check-up sometime soon? You’re way overdue for one.” This wasn’t the first time we’d had this conversation. Besides the secret ultrasound when she determined Lily’s sex, she hadn’t examined me.
“I just wish you would have let me help more…” she said, reaching out and pulling me in for a hug, surprising me. She’d never touched me unless she was examining me, so it was unexpected and shockingly pleasant. “Listen,” she said, pulling back and squeezing my shoulders gently, “before he gets back, I wanted to give you this.”
“What i-is it?” I watched her take out a small card from her right jeans pocket.
“It’s a knitting club. I think it would be good for you, Nova.”
“Oh.” Dumbfounded, I accepted the card and turned it over and back. It was white and nondescript, with a website address in the center. Knitting tips dot com. I’d never knitted a single thing in my life. Home Ec was still required when I went to school and for the second half we learned about sewing. I preferred the cooking and the eating part of the semester because my hands were too shaky to hold the fabric straight. My teacher, Miss Langley, told me I was one of the worst she’d ever seen. I could have told Rachel this, but I didn’t have the heart.
But she must have seen the confused look on my face as I thanked her and set the card on Lily’s dresser, because she said, “You should check it out. It’s not at all what you think. It could be therapeutic for you. Promise me you’ll at least look at the website?”
I wanted to say, yes, of course, but I couldn’t lie. “Rachel, our internet here is w-wonky. I’ve g-given up on trying to get it to w-work for a w-while now. But if it ever g-gets straightened out, I will d-definitely look it up.”
“Your husband’s internet seems to work just fine. I see him posting pics about his realty accomplishments on Facebook and Instagram all the time,” she snapped. She looked red and flustered all of a sudden.
“He d-does?” This was news to me, but it didn’t really surprise me.
Rachel grabbed my hand and squeezed it just as I heard Martin’s key turning in the lock. My body instantly tensed up, the way it always did when Martin came through the door. I never knew what to expect as my body jarred in anticipation.
“It’s not just for knitting,” Rachel breathed, her words quiet as wind whistling through a seashell. Then she said, louder now, “Well, good luck with everything, Nova. If you guys need me in the future, please don’t hesitate to call.”
I nodded, still shaken and nervous for some reason, then I walked over to where Lily was sitting on the floor. She was gnawing on one of her rubber duckies and when I tried to dislodge it from her tiny grasp, she screamed. Scooping her up, I held her to my chest and rocked her forward and back in my arms. Anything to make her stop crying before Martin came in the room. Lily was usually a quiet baby, but now that she was walking and starting to talk some, it was getting harder to control her bursts of emotion. But still, I had better luck managing her emotions than I did managing Martin’s, a full-grown man.
I could hear him talking to Rachel in the kitchen. I couldn’t make out all the words, but I thought I heard Rachel ask, “Will you help her download this knitting app?” and something about wanting to teach me how to make baby booties and scarves.