Maddy touched Joshua’s back. He rolled away from her.
“Josh, honey.” She shook his shoulder gently. “You’re going to be late.”
Grumbling, her husband sat on the edge of the bed and reached for a frayed pair of jeans.
She reached for her bathrobe. “I’ll get you some breakfast,” she said, sliding her feet into a pair of worn slippers.
He made a non-committal grunt as she left the room.
Before they’d married, she’d dreamed of loving mornings together, of waking cradled in his arms. But he never turned towards her after he switched off the lamp at night. His back was a wall between them.
She pulled out a pitcher of milk and two eggs from the refrigerator. Maddy said a silent prayer of thanks that Lila hadn’t woken up yet. Not that Lila was a difficult baby. On the contrary, the six-month-old was unusually well-behaved for an infant, only rarely crying. Most of the time she gazed up from her crib with a solemn look, as if she knew something Maddy didn’t.
Joshua’s work boots clattered against the wooden floor. “Don’t have time to eat,” he said stiffly. “Have to be on site in ten minutes.”
“Oh.” Maddy was quiet. “I thought we could have breakfast together,” she finally said in a small voice, gesturing lamely at the table, which was already set for two.
He gathered his keys and yellow hard hat from the table. “Can’t be late again. Murphy about canned my ass last time.”
“Well, here.” She quickly scooped up some of the egg and slid it between two slices of bread. “At least take this.” She held it out like a child coaxing a small animal.
Joshua looked at her almost warily, before grabbing the offering and heading out the door.
“Know when you’ll be back?” she called after him.
At the car door, he shrugged. “Who knows?”
Then he was gone.
Maddy turned back towards the kitchen. She put away the extra setting and reheated her cold coffee. She pulled the Sunday newspaper, which still lay strewn on the table, towards her.
She felt a pang when she saw the ad for Piggly Wiggly. It had been two years since she’d quit. Josh had insisted she stop working after the wedding. His salary would be enough. Maddy had been tempted to argue, but stopped when she saw the cold determination in his eyes.
She still missed her old job. There was something soothing about methodically stacking cereal boxes and arranging fruits and vegetables into attractive displays. She hadn’t been much of a student, scraping by with Cs in most of her classes. But, after school, she’d been in her element at the store. She would count out change slowly for elderly Mr. Herbert or advise Mrs. Walker, a mother of six, that peanut butter was twenty-five percent off all week. Maddy had been employee of the month when she quit. Sandy, the portly manager with the gray comb-over, had been sad to see her go. Not many people stayed as long as she did. She’d been there three years, since before she’d had her driver’s license.
Maddy got up, placing her dishes in the sink. She rubbed her finger over the veiny leaves of the Swedish ivy which hung from the ceiling. Her mother had brought it by two weeks ago, as a gift for their second anniversary. The edge of the leaves had already turned brown, crinkly as aged newspaper. Her mother of all people should have known a plant was a poor choice for a gift. Sometimes Maddy forgot to water them, sometimes she didn’t add enough fertilizer. The end result was always the same. Even the third-grade class cactus had died during Maddy’s week to care for it.
A soft cry came from Lila’s room. Maddy continued watering the sad little plant. The wail repeated itself. Maddy sighed and headed towards her daughter.
The labor had been relatively short, six hours, and not as painful as Maddy had thought it would be. The attending doctor, a red-faced man with a sweaty bald spot, had beamed stupidly at her after it was over, as if she was a prize mare who’d just delivered a promising foal. Maddy had expected to feel a rush of love, a pink glow of tenderness, when the tiny bundle was handed to her. But there had been nothing.
Josh had cooed over the baby, using the same honeyed tone he used to use with Maddy herself.
He’d been shy when he asked her to homecoming dance sophomore year, almost as if he expected her to say no. She’d noticed him around school before; a tall, lanky redhead who kept to himself.
Josh had arrived at her house promptly at eight, with a long-stemmed rose for her, and one for her mother, which impressed her parents. “Such a nice young man,” her mother had murmured in her ear.
The following week, he escorted her to and from every class, his long arm wrapped tightly around her tiny waist. They talked on the phone until late at night, exchanging youthful vows of undying love. Her parents, not impressed with the grand scope of their romance, threatened to disconnect the phone.
She hardly noticed as her friends drifted away from her, tired of unreturned phone calls and skipped trips to the mall. It was enough to be Josh’s darling, his sweetheart, his “little baby doll.”
Maddy did, in fact, look like a doll. Petite, barely five feet tall, she could still buy clothes in the childrens department. Josh, at 6’ 1”, towered over her. She teased him about their difference in height, but she liked it. She felt protected by his additional inches. No one had been so protective of her, not even her parents. No other boys had taken such interest in the details of her life. Joshua always wanted to know where she would be and what she’d be doing.
No one had been surprised when he proposed to her in the spring of their senior year. They were married in a small ceremony a month after graduation, with only family and a few close friends in attendance. His parents, although not terribly well off themselves, had paid the first month’s rent on the apartment as a wedding gift. Maddy and Josh couldn’t afford a honeymoon, but it didn’t matter to her. She was happy just to be his wife.
Maddy couldn’t have guessed how quickly things would change.
He was like a child who excitedly unwraps a gift, only to toss it aside moments later, the thrill already forgotten. Maddy had been his only serious girlfriend, a situation he seemed increasingly unhappy with.
She had turned nineteen a few months after the wedding. Josh had taken her to dinner at one of the few places in town with cloth napkins. Vicki, an old friend from high school, had spotted them in the restaurant, and stopped by to say hello.
“Vicki’s looking good,” Josh had commented after she left their table. His eyes had roamed over Maddy with a faint look of disdain, letting her know she didn’t look nearly as good. Josh had glanced admiringly at Vicki’s retreating figure. “You know, you’re lucky you got me when you did. If I wasn’t mar-ried,” he added in a sing-song voice, waggling his ring finger at Maddy, “you know that girl would already have me halfway to her place.”
It was shortly after this that the poker nights started. Each Wednesday, Maddy was forced to retreat to the living room while Josh’s work buddies invaded her kitchen.
“This is five-star stuff after Maddy’s cooking,” Josh would say, reaching for stale Doritos. After struggling with a beer bottle cap, he’d joke that it was easier to open than his wife’s legs.
His voice would carry clearly down the hall to Maddy. She’d stuff a fist in her mouth, biting on her knuckles as she heard the laughter. Maddy would squeeze her eyes shut, willing the tears not to fall.
Josh had warmed to her again briefly when the home pregnancy test showed she was expecting. He’d spoken of playing catch with his son, and of family trips to the beach.
Yet as her waist expanded to accommodate the growing child, he’d given her a new nickname. Having long since stopped calling her his doll, his angel, or even just darling, she was now known as "the heifer." The tone was almost affectionate, almost teasing, when others were around, but the hard edge underneath let her know it was meant to hurt.
Lila fell silent as Maddy entered the room. Maddy gripped the edge of the crib and stared down at her daughter. The baby’s brow wrinkled as she gazed back at her mother. The furrowed brow and nearly bald head gave Lila a slight resemblance to her grandfather, the appearance of a world-weary little soul.
“What is it?” she snapped at the child.
Lila pursed her lips, as if about to speak. Maddy’s chest felt wet. She looked down. There were two large wet spots on the over-sized t-shirt she used as a nightgown. Maddy sighed. Of course, the little thing was hungry.
“Sorry, kid,” she mumbled apologetically, reaching down into the crib.
The baby felt awkward in her arms. Surprisingly, Joshua had been a natural as a father. Since that first day in the hospital room, where he’d cradled the infant in his arms and pressed his lips tenderly to her forehead, he seemed to instinctively know what she needed. On the rare occasions Lila woke up during the night, it was he who walked up and down the hall singing her to sleep. He changed her diapers almost cheerfully, blowing raspberries on her stomach. It was Joshua who elicited Lila’s rare smiles. Maddy felt a tightness in her chest watching the two of them, Josh’s hand caressing the small back as he whispered softly in Lila’s ear.
Mechanically, Maddy shifted the baby from her chest to her shoulder and burped Lila, patting her back a little too roughly. Continuing to balance Lila against her shoulder, Maddy moved back down the hall towards the bathroom.
An infant-sized plastic tub had been deemed an unnecessary expense, so the child was carefully bathed each day in the full-sized porcelain one that Maddy and Josh used. Maddy turned on the faucets, adjusting the knobs until the water ran lukewarm. She pulled the pink-elephant patterned onezie over her daughter’s still-soft head, and threw the used diaper into the wicker basket.
Maddy lowered Lila’s naked body into the tub and worked the soapy lather over the baby’s smooth skin. Josh would be home late tonight. The meatloaf and mashed potatoes long cold, he’d walk right past her without a word.
To Lila. He’d go straight to Lila’s room and bounce her on his knee, telling the baby about his day in a sing-song voice. He confided to Lila, not to her, his wife. Maddy would wander alone to the living room and stare at the photo of two giddy teenagers on their wedding day.
So very long ago, it seemed. Maddy felt tired suddenly, much older than twenty years.
Relax, just let go, a voice hummed in her ear. And she obeyed, loosening her grip on the small body. It slipped from her hands easily, the small head dipping below the surface like a ship’s prow. Maddy gazed steadily into her daughter’s eyes. They were a deep liquid brown, just like Josh’s. Was she mocking her, just as Josh so often did? Were those tiny lips curling into a little sneer?
Maddy smiled at her daughter as she reached for the faucets. It was the first time she’d smiled all morning.
“Josh, honey.” She shook his shoulder gently. “You’re going to be late.”
Grumbling, her husband sat on the edge of the bed and reached for a frayed pair of jeans.
She reached for her bathrobe. “I’ll get you some breakfast,” she said, sliding her feet into a pair of worn slippers.
He made a non-committal grunt as she left the room.
Before they’d married, she’d dreamed of loving mornings together, of waking cradled in his arms. But he never turned towards her after he switched off the lamp at night. His back was a wall between them.
She pulled out a pitcher of milk and two eggs from the refrigerator. Maddy said a silent prayer of thanks that Lila hadn’t woken up yet. Not that Lila was a difficult baby. On the contrary, the six-month-old was unusually well-behaved for an infant, only rarely crying. Most of the time she gazed up from her crib with a solemn look, as if she knew something Maddy didn’t.
Joshua’s work boots clattered against the wooden floor. “Don’t have time to eat,” he said stiffly. “Have to be on site in ten minutes.”
“Oh.” Maddy was quiet. “I thought we could have breakfast together,” she finally said in a small voice, gesturing lamely at the table, which was already set for two.
He gathered his keys and yellow hard hat from the table. “Can’t be late again. Murphy about canned my ass last time.”
“Well, here.” She quickly scooped up some of the egg and slid it between two slices of bread. “At least take this.” She held it out like a child coaxing a small animal.
Joshua looked at her almost warily, before grabbing the offering and heading out the door.
“Know when you’ll be back?” she called after him.
At the car door, he shrugged. “Who knows?”
Then he was gone.
Maddy turned back towards the kitchen. She put away the extra setting and reheated her cold coffee. She pulled the Sunday newspaper, which still lay strewn on the table, towards her.
She felt a pang when she saw the ad for Piggly Wiggly. It had been two years since she’d quit. Josh had insisted she stop working after the wedding. His salary would be enough. Maddy had been tempted to argue, but stopped when she saw the cold determination in his eyes.
She still missed her old job. There was something soothing about methodically stacking cereal boxes and arranging fruits and vegetables into attractive displays. She hadn’t been much of a student, scraping by with Cs in most of her classes. But, after school, she’d been in her element at the store. She would count out change slowly for elderly Mr. Herbert or advise Mrs. Walker, a mother of six, that peanut butter was twenty-five percent off all week. Maddy had been employee of the month when she quit. Sandy, the portly manager with the gray comb-over, had been sad to see her go. Not many people stayed as long as she did. She’d been there three years, since before she’d had her driver’s license.
Maddy got up, placing her dishes in the sink. She rubbed her finger over the veiny leaves of the Swedish ivy which hung from the ceiling. Her mother had brought it by two weeks ago, as a gift for their second anniversary. The edge of the leaves had already turned brown, crinkly as aged newspaper. Her mother of all people should have known a plant was a poor choice for a gift. Sometimes Maddy forgot to water them, sometimes she didn’t add enough fertilizer. The end result was always the same. Even the third-grade class cactus had died during Maddy’s week to care for it.
A soft cry came from Lila’s room. Maddy continued watering the sad little plant. The wail repeated itself. Maddy sighed and headed towards her daughter.
The labor had been relatively short, six hours, and not as painful as Maddy had thought it would be. The attending doctor, a red-faced man with a sweaty bald spot, had beamed stupidly at her after it was over, as if she was a prize mare who’d just delivered a promising foal. Maddy had expected to feel a rush of love, a pink glow of tenderness, when the tiny bundle was handed to her. But there had been nothing.
Josh had cooed over the baby, using the same honeyed tone he used to use with Maddy herself.
He’d been shy when he asked her to homecoming dance sophomore year, almost as if he expected her to say no. She’d noticed him around school before; a tall, lanky redhead who kept to himself.
Josh had arrived at her house promptly at eight, with a long-stemmed rose for her, and one for her mother, which impressed her parents. “Such a nice young man,” her mother had murmured in her ear.
The following week, he escorted her to and from every class, his long arm wrapped tightly around her tiny waist. They talked on the phone until late at night, exchanging youthful vows of undying love. Her parents, not impressed with the grand scope of their romance, threatened to disconnect the phone.
She hardly noticed as her friends drifted away from her, tired of unreturned phone calls and skipped trips to the mall. It was enough to be Josh’s darling, his sweetheart, his “little baby doll.”
Maddy did, in fact, look like a doll. Petite, barely five feet tall, she could still buy clothes in the childrens department. Josh, at 6’ 1”, towered over her. She teased him about their difference in height, but she liked it. She felt protected by his additional inches. No one had been so protective of her, not even her parents. No other boys had taken such interest in the details of her life. Joshua always wanted to know where she would be and what she’d be doing.
No one had been surprised when he proposed to her in the spring of their senior year. They were married in a small ceremony a month after graduation, with only family and a few close friends in attendance. His parents, although not terribly well off themselves, had paid the first month’s rent on the apartment as a wedding gift. Maddy and Josh couldn’t afford a honeymoon, but it didn’t matter to her. She was happy just to be his wife.
Maddy couldn’t have guessed how quickly things would change.
He was like a child who excitedly unwraps a gift, only to toss it aside moments later, the thrill already forgotten. Maddy had been his only serious girlfriend, a situation he seemed increasingly unhappy with.
She had turned nineteen a few months after the wedding. Josh had taken her to dinner at one of the few places in town with cloth napkins. Vicki, an old friend from high school, had spotted them in the restaurant, and stopped by to say hello.
“Vicki’s looking good,” Josh had commented after she left their table. His eyes had roamed over Maddy with a faint look of disdain, letting her know she didn’t look nearly as good. Josh had glanced admiringly at Vicki’s retreating figure. “You know, you’re lucky you got me when you did. If I wasn’t mar-ried,” he added in a sing-song voice, waggling his ring finger at Maddy, “you know that girl would already have me halfway to her place.”
It was shortly after this that the poker nights started. Each Wednesday, Maddy was forced to retreat to the living room while Josh’s work buddies invaded her kitchen.
“This is five-star stuff after Maddy’s cooking,” Josh would say, reaching for stale Doritos. After struggling with a beer bottle cap, he’d joke that it was easier to open than his wife’s legs.
His voice would carry clearly down the hall to Maddy. She’d stuff a fist in her mouth, biting on her knuckles as she heard the laughter. Maddy would squeeze her eyes shut, willing the tears not to fall.
Josh had warmed to her again briefly when the home pregnancy test showed she was expecting. He’d spoken of playing catch with his son, and of family trips to the beach.
Yet as her waist expanded to accommodate the growing child, he’d given her a new nickname. Having long since stopped calling her his doll, his angel, or even just darling, she was now known as "the heifer." The tone was almost affectionate, almost teasing, when others were around, but the hard edge underneath let her know it was meant to hurt.
Lila fell silent as Maddy entered the room. Maddy gripped the edge of the crib and stared down at her daughter. The baby’s brow wrinkled as she gazed back at her mother. The furrowed brow and nearly bald head gave Lila a slight resemblance to her grandfather, the appearance of a world-weary little soul.
“What is it?” she snapped at the child.
Lila pursed her lips, as if about to speak. Maddy’s chest felt wet. She looked down. There were two large wet spots on the over-sized t-shirt she used as a nightgown. Maddy sighed. Of course, the little thing was hungry.
“Sorry, kid,” she mumbled apologetically, reaching down into the crib.
The baby felt awkward in her arms. Surprisingly, Joshua had been a natural as a father. Since that first day in the hospital room, where he’d cradled the infant in his arms and pressed his lips tenderly to her forehead, he seemed to instinctively know what she needed. On the rare occasions Lila woke up during the night, it was he who walked up and down the hall singing her to sleep. He changed her diapers almost cheerfully, blowing raspberries on her stomach. It was Joshua who elicited Lila’s rare smiles. Maddy felt a tightness in her chest watching the two of them, Josh’s hand caressing the small back as he whispered softly in Lila’s ear.
Mechanically, Maddy shifted the baby from her chest to her shoulder and burped Lila, patting her back a little too roughly. Continuing to balance Lila against her shoulder, Maddy moved back down the hall towards the bathroom.
An infant-sized plastic tub had been deemed an unnecessary expense, so the child was carefully bathed each day in the full-sized porcelain one that Maddy and Josh used. Maddy turned on the faucets, adjusting the knobs until the water ran lukewarm. She pulled the pink-elephant patterned onezie over her daughter’s still-soft head, and threw the used diaper into the wicker basket.
Maddy lowered Lila’s naked body into the tub and worked the soapy lather over the baby’s smooth skin. Josh would be home late tonight. The meatloaf and mashed potatoes long cold, he’d walk right past her without a word.
To Lila. He’d go straight to Lila’s room and bounce her on his knee, telling the baby about his day in a sing-song voice. He confided to Lila, not to her, his wife. Maddy would wander alone to the living room and stare at the photo of two giddy teenagers on their wedding day.
So very long ago, it seemed. Maddy felt tired suddenly, much older than twenty years.
Relax, just let go, a voice hummed in her ear. And she obeyed, loosening her grip on the small body. It slipped from her hands easily, the small head dipping below the surface like a ship’s prow. Maddy gazed steadily into her daughter’s eyes. They were a deep liquid brown, just like Josh’s. Was she mocking her, just as Josh so often did? Were those tiny lips curling into a little sneer?
Maddy smiled at her daughter as she reached for the faucets. It was the first time she’d smiled all morning.
