Zoe stood on one side of the patio doors and looked through her own hazy reflection at Nadia, sitting on a frayed wicker chair, leaning back on a faded blue cushion with her bare feet resting on another cushion on top of a wooden garden table. Her fair hair framed her pale face as she gazed down at Louise, asleep in the crook of her arm. It would have looked like any other picture of a contented mother and her infant, if it wasn’t for the tear running down Nadia’s face from beneath her sunglasses. Zoe felt a pang of something, something unpleasant that made her feel like they were little kids again: jealousy, the part of her that wanted to run over and lay claim to Louise, to take her from Nadia like a toy that she didn’t want to share. Zoe pushed the feeling away. Why should she be jealous of Nadia now that she had what she’d always wanted? Or perhaps the sensation was guilt, but really, what did she have to feel guilty about? They had all gone into this knowing it wouldn’t be easy. Zoe closed her eyes for a moment; it was almost over.
Nadia hadn’t seen her yet, and Zoe didn’t move. She wished she knew what her sister was thinking. She could breeze over there and act like there was nothing unusual about this situation, sink back into the other chair, put her feet up too and chat away. But there was no protocol for this, no book to read to tell you what to do, what to feel, how to act. She would give Nadia a few more minutes, she decided. Zoe had the rest of her life with Louise; Nadia had no time at all.
Nadia suddenly sat up and raised her eyes to look at Zoe. They stared at each other, just for a moment, through the glass, speckled with streaks of dust and children’s fingerprints. Zoe tensed, then Nadia smiled, and Zoe’s face flushed. She reminded herself that Nadia had offered to do this for her; she was amazing. Smiling back, she slid open the glass door, then walked over to her sister and put her hand on her shoulder. ‘She’s asleep,’ she said quietly.
Nadia nodded, silent, not taking her eyes off Louise.
Zoe wanted to reach down and take Louise, but she forced herself to wait, to be patient. Soon she, Lachlan and Louise would be driving away, back down the long highway from the hills, through the suburbs, through the city, and back to Fremantle, leaving Nadia far behind them.
She lifted her hand off Nadia’s shoulder and sat down. The back of the chair creaked as she leaned back, trying to look relaxed. Eddie and Lachlan were kicking a footy on the green, even lawn with Charlotte, Violet and Harry. They were using the posts of the swing set as one goal, and the poles of the large round trampoline as the other. The lawn was framed by garden beds with neat rows of plants and flowers. Zoe thought about her own courtyard at home. The brick pavers there were unsteady, the sand beneath them eroded by the thousands of frantic ants that scurried around each summer, excavating their nests and biting her feet and ankles. But she would change that; it mattered, now that she had a daughter.
She looked down at her feet, her old brown thongs, and stretched out her toes, looking at her chipped red nail polish. She looked up at Nadia. ‘You’ve got great kids.’
Nadia nodded, swaying her upper body ever so slightly from side to side, rocking Louise as she slept. Zoe wanted to say it again, louder, to remind her to look up at her own children, not down at Louise. Was Nadia regretting this? Did she wish that Louise was hers, that four children would jump on that trampoline every day? She’d said that she was happy with three children, but that was before all this. Before Louise.
Zoe’s heart began to pound. She looked at Nadia and Louise again, the way Nadia had both arms wrapped tightly around the baby, her baby, and her mouth went dry. She turned and stared at Lachlan, hoping he would look over and see what was going on, but he hadn’t even noticed she was there. Since Louise’s birth, he’d seemed preoccupied, distant. Zoe’s hands started to tremble; they needed to go.
She fixed a grin on her face, then faked a yawn. ‘Well, I’d better go upstairs and make sure we’re packed.’ She stood up and walked back into the house before Nadia had a chance to reply.
Upstairs, Zoe zipped up her suitcase and looked around the room for the last time. She had already stripped the bed; the sheets were bundled up in the far corner of the room. The grey carpet was flecked with threads, crumbs and tiny bits of tissues. She should have vacuumed: Nadia still wasn’t meant to do any lifting. She glanced at the clock on the wall. They needed to get going so they could be home in time for Louise’s next feed. There wasn’t enough time for a conversation, for a change of mind. There was only enough time for her, Lachlan and Louise to get in the car and drive away.
Zoe couldn’t wait to be able to care for Louise without Nadia watching her, commenting on how she might feed or settle or change her differently. Zoe was a new mum, and like every other first-time mother, she’d find her way. She knew how hard it must be for Nadia to watch Louise’s dependence shift away from her to Zoe. Still, it had been hard not to let her resentment grow; there was something about living with Nadia again that made her revert to their old dynamics, to letting her big sister take charge. But no, it was more than that. Zoe’s submission was not just to do with their history. It was the knowledge that she was not the one with the power; Nadia was. Zoe would forever need to fall at Nadia’s feet in gratitude. Because really, what she had done, what she was doing today in watching her flesh and blood be carried out of her home, was selfless. Zoe owed her so much and couldn’t risk upsetting her. Would it have been easier if they had taken Louise home straight from the hospital? Beforehand, it had seemed cruel to break the bond so abruptly, but maybe it would have been better after all. Had they prolonged the pain, cultivated the confusion for all of them? For Louise?
Zoe scooped up a toppled pile of coins that trailed across the bedside cabinet, then picked up two glasses with dregs of cloudy water and put them by the door. She bent down for a ball of scrunched-up wrapping paper from one of the few gifts they’d received, then pulled Lachlan’s damp towel from the top of the door and threw it into the corner, on top of the sheets. The bassinette, adjacent to her side of the bed, had been stripped too, and those sheets were folded up in her suitcase. Nadia had insisted that Zoe take them, saying that she had no more use for them. But if she was so sure she didn’t want more children, why hadn’t she thrown them out after Harry was born? Why had she kept them all this time? Anyway, it didn’t matter. When Nadia insisted that she take the sheets, Zoe had smiled and thanked her, even though she had three brand-new sets at home. She would give these old ones to an op shop.
Lachlan’s work holdall was on top of the bed, filthy with the film of red dust that always stained his clothes and hair when he came home. It took days to wash it off his skin; as the rust-coloured water drained away, it took with it the harshness of his life in the goldfields. But since returning this time, the ruddy dirt still clung to every line on his face, and had buried itself deep in his knuckles and around his fingernails. The old Lachlan hadn’t emerged yet. He’d been quiet since they’d arrived at Nadia and Eddie’s place, but then again, they were all pretty overwhelmed by the situation. He hadn’t been sleeping well; she’d felt him moving around in the bed next to her as she lay awake listening to Louise breathing. She’d heard Nadia at night too, creeping about downstairs, hesitating outside their bedroom door when Louise cried. But Louise took milk from the bottle easily: any breast milk that Nadia managed to pump, and top-ups of formula when there wasn’t enough. Nadia had nursed Louise almost constantly for the first few days, and had then withdrawn to her room with the electric pump every few hours. Zoe loved the feeling of holding Louise close while she drank from her bottle, her little fist clutching Zoe’s finger. She’d seen Nadia glare at the tin of powdered milk as if it was poison. Zoe sighed. It was hard for them all, and things would be much easier for everyone once she, Lachlan and Louise were gone.
Zoe stacked Lachlan’s bag on top of her own suitcase near the door. He could carry them down. She zipped up the nappy bag, slung it over her shoulder along with her handbag, then picked up the dirty glasses and walked out into the hallway.
Louise’s cries drifted up the stairs. Smiling, Zoe stood still and let the sound lap over her like warm water. She walked slowly down the stairs, forcing herself to stay calm, to resist the urge to run down, grab Louise and flee with her. She didn’t want Nadia to think she was rushing her; Zoe knew how sad she was by the way she had been laughing too loudly all day, chattering constantly yet not really saying anything at all.
At the bottom of the stairs, she walked back through the open-plan kitchen towards the patio doors. Nadia hadn’t moved from her chair. She now held Louise upright, over her shoulder, and patted the whimpering baby’s back while whispering in her ear. Zoe’s hands began to shake and her eyes filled with tears; she leaned on the kitchen table and took a few deep breaths. This would be the hardest part, taking Louise from her sister.
But Louise was hers to take.