Nameless Series Boxed Set (29 page)

Erin wiped it
up and then cleaned up her daughter’s mouth. The big blue eyes were open and
staring at her, so Erin grinned and made smacking noises until she got a
response—babbling sounds that resembled little baby giggles.

“Lunchtime
over?” Liz asked, coming into the living room to join them.

“Yep,” Erin
replied, leaning over to kiss the tiny, warm forehead, and then putting her bra
back together and straightening her shirt. “I need to change her diaper, so bring
the t-shirt into the nursery and we’ll try it on.”

They walked
together into the nursery, which Erin still was inordinately proud of. After
changing the diaper, Erin pulled off the pumpkin dress. Gently tickled the soft
belly to get her to giggle again.

So far, she was
a very good-natured baby. She cried when she was hungry or tired, but—except
when she was sick—it never took much to settle her down.

Erin didn’t deserve
such a perfect daughter.

Liz snorted at
her besotted expression and handed her the tiny t-shirt. Erin put it on and
then picked her up to show her off to Liz.

Laughing, she
said, “There. It's just a little short."

It actually
looked adorable, so Erin couldn't help but gush a little. She carried her over
to the rocker, where she sat down and held her upright in her lap. Her daughter
pushed her feet against Erin's thighs, putting some of her weight on her own
legs, as if she were trying to stand.

Erin took this
as an obvious sign that her three-month-old was some kind of protégé.

Liz laughed.
“She looks great. She should wear that for her weekly picture today.”

 “No. She finally
fits into that beautiful white, smocked dress. You know, the one Gina gave me
at the baby shower? I was going to put her in that.”

Erin made a
playful kissing noise, which caused her daughter to stare at her curiously. Erin
kept making the noise, leaning forward until she reached the baby's stomach,
just below the t-shirt. Then she blew gently against the smooth skin,
increasing the pressure and sound with her lips.

Her daughter
babbled happily at this game.

Erin laughed.
Did it again. Prompted even more babbling.

She’d never
imagined she could love anyone this much. Never imagined she was even capable
of it.

When she saw an
unexpected flash, she turned her head sharply in the direction of Liz.

Her sister had clicked
a picture of them without warning, using the camera she’d brought over for
their weekly picture.

Erin frowned.
“What do you think you’re doing?”

 “It was too
irresistible. You were in full mommy mode. It had to be documented so you
couldn’t deny it later.” Glancing down, she checked the camera. Her face
changed. “Wow. It’s really good. Look.”

When Liz
brought the camera over, Erin looked obediently, not expecting to be impressed,
since she always hated how she looked in pictures.

It was good.

It was a
profile shot of both of them and was one of the best pictures of the pumpkin
she could remember—smiling, natural, waving her hands excitedly. The reddish
hair was mussed, and the tummy was sticking out between the short t-shirt and
the diaper, but she looked vibrant and adorable.

Erin actually
looked good too. Also smiling, holding up her baby with an uncharacteristically
tender expression. Her hair was tousled around her face kind of messily and her
upper body looked a little too curvy, but she looked good.

Not sexy, but
something else. Something Erin had never associated with herself before.

It made her
feel kind of weird. She'd always been quite confident that all things maternal
were completely foreign to her, and she couldn’t help but wonder how she had
become this person, instead of the person she’d always thought she was.

Liz was looking
ridiculously pleased with herself. “I’m going to frame this one for Dad. He’ll
love it.”

“Yeah,” Erin
mumbled, feeling irrationally embarrassed—as if she’d been caught doing
something that should have remained secret. “Thanks. Since you think you’re so
talented, you better do a good job with the weekly picture, once I put her in
her pretty dress.”

Liz frowned
thoughtfully. “No. I think this should be the picture.”

“No. It
shouldn't.”

“But it’s
perfect. You both look great in it. This is the best picture of the two of you
I’ve seen.”

 “No. I
shouldn’t be in it, and she’s going to wear her pretty dress.”

“Why are you
being so stubborn? I’m telling you that this is the picture you should send
him. He needs to see it.”

“I don’t want
him to see it,” Erin mumbled.

Every Saturday,
Erin sent Seth an email. She briefly outlined anything noteworthy about their
daughter and attached a new picture. After the first two weeks of trying to
explain and get a response from him, she’d stopped hoping he'd reply. But she
emailed him once a week, keeping the notes brief and impersonal.

She’d already composed
the one for this week:
She’s almost thirteen pounds now. She was slightly
sick at the beginning of the week, but she was feeling better by Wednesday. She
likes to wave her arms around, and she can almost clap sometimes. Her new
favorite thing is to rock in her swing.

That was it.

The emails were
always painful to write and to send, but she still sent them every week with a
picture. She’d told him from the beginning that she’d keep him informed, so she
was committed to doing so, even if he’d decided he didn’t want anything to do
with them.

She didn’t want
Seth to forget he had a daughter.

“Give me one
good reason why you shouldn’t send Seth this picture,” Liz demanded.

“I’ll give you
three.
I’m
in this one, and the picture is supposed to just be of her.
Plus, her hair is kind of messy, and her diaper is droopy. I was going to fix
her up before I took the picture.”

She’d been
planning to put their daughter in the delicate, smocked dress with embroidered
flowers that Seth had unconsciously picked out when he’d been looking at the
nursery four months ago. She’d just been waiting for it to fit, and now it
finally did.

“Who cares
about that? She looks really cute in the t-shirt. Why can’t she look natural?
Why do you always dress her up for the pictures?”

Erin clenched
her jaw, turning her daughter around until she was lying against her chest and
shoulder.

“Erin?”

Finally, she
sighed. “I want him to think she’s pretty.”

“She
is
pretty. She’s beautiful.”

“I know. But...but
I just want him to
see
how beautiful she is.” She added in a whisper,
almost to herself. “I want him to be proud of her.”

Liz contorted
her face. “Oh, shit, Erin. You know I hate when you make me cry.” Before Erin
could object to both the sentiment and the language, Liz added, “If only I
could knee that selfish bastard in the balls.”

Erin had
quickly recovered from her descent into poignancy. She cleared her throat and then
said with exaggerated primness, “I’d appreciate it if you wouldn’t pollute my
innocent daughter’s ears with such vulgarity.”

 “Sorry. I’m
trying to be good.”

“I know. All in
all, you’re doing pretty well.”

Evidently
relieved that the emotional part of the afternoon was over, Liz resumed her
badgering. “Anyway, she does look beautiful in this picture, and she looks happy
and natural. So do you.”

“It doesn’t
matter about me.”

“Well,
I
think it does. He should see that you’re happy. He should be reminded of what
he’s missing out on.”

Erin felt
awkward and just shrugged. “I’m not sending it.” Then she stood up and carried
her wriggling daughter to set her up in the infant swing in the living room.

The blue eyes
stared mesmerized at the turning animals on the mobile that moved with the music
and the rocking of the swing.

Liz had
followed Erin. “If you don’t send it, then I’ll send it to him myself. With a
nasty, scathing note.”

Erin groaned
and collapsed on the couch. “He probably just deletes the emails without reading
them anyway. Obviously they don’t mean anything to him.”

“Then it won’t
matter which picture you send.”

“Fine.” Erin
hauled herself up and got her laptop from the dining room table. Found the
draft of the email she’d composed yesterday. Then attached the picture from the
camera.

Hit "send"
before she changed her mind.

She had a sick,
heavy feeling in her gut, but she forced herself to ignore it. He probably
wouldn’t ever see the picture anyway. If he was trying to close himself off
from them completely, then he wouldn’t want any reminders.

He wouldn’t
ever see the picture. Erin shouldn’t worry about it.

“Erin?” Liz
asked, after several minutes of silence. “Are you
sure
you’re all
right?”

Erin smiled. It
wasn’t bright and cheerful, but it wasn’t fake either. Just kind of tired.
“Yeah. We’re good. This is my life. I have her. And you. And Dad. And plenty of
friends—I don’t hang out with them much anymore, but they’re still there. And I
have a decent job. Maybe eventually I’ll try to date again.” She sighed and
felt that stupid lump again that she couldn’t rid herself of completely. “Yes,
I wanted her to have a daddy, but we’re not going to fall apart without one.
We’re good.”

“Are
you
good?” Liz asked, very softly, very carefully.

 “I’m good. I
really am. Eventually, you get over things. Eventually, I won’t miss him so
much.”

Erin was having a miserable
Friday.

She’d woken up
just after five o’clock that morning to the sound of anguished squalling, only
to discover that her daughter had produced the poop from hell, which had leaked
out of her diaper and all over the bedding.

She’d ended up
a half-hour late for work and had a headache all morning.

Then she’d been
so exhausted that she’d actually nodded off during a staff meeting, to be
awakened by an annoying colleague poking her in the arm and everyone else laughing
at her.

She’d been so
busy that she hadn’t had time for lunch—just swallowing down a little bag of
peanuts from the vending machine. The lack of food hadn't improved either her
headache or her mood.

Then she’d
needed to go to the store after work, and—as she’d been standing in the endless
line at the checkout counter—she’d discovered that she’d never put her wallet
back in her bag, after pulling it out to get change for the vending machine
that afternoon.

So she’d had to
leave all her stuff in the cart and go back to work. Find her wallet—which was naturally
right on top of her desk—and then return to the store and stand in line again.

This time,
there was a woman with a baby behind her, and the baby was crying at the top of
his lungs.

Erin tried to
shut the sound out. Tried to think of anything else. But her breasts were full,
and the crying triggered their letdown reflex.

She started
leaking. A lot. More than she'd leaked since the first month after giving
birth.

Erin crossed
her arms over her chest and prayed for the baby to stop crying. Squeezed her
breasts, trying to use pressure to get it to stop.

It didn’t
really work. Despite the pads in her bra, she could feel the milk spreading out
over the fabric of her shirt.

She was just
about ready to cry when she left the store and made her way home, finally
stumbling into her apartment an hour later than Stella had been expecting her.

She apologized
profusely to the nanny, who shrugged it off and said that Erin looked like
she’d had a horrible day.

“I was just
about to give her a bottle, since she’s getting hungry. Why don’t you nurse her
first?” Stella suggested. “Then I can stick around while you change clothes.”

Erin smiled
faintly as she reached toward the swing to pick up her daughter, who was
fussing and grimacing with dramatically grumpy expressions. “Hey, pumpkin. I’m
sorry I was so late.”

The baby didn’t
seem to appreciate the apology and wriggled impatiently until Erin cradled her
against her chest. As soon as a nipple was offered, however, all resentment was
forgotten.

Erin sighed and
closed her eyes, feeling like a disgusting, half-dead cow.

“You look like
you’re about to fall over,” Stella said sympathetically. “If you’re too tired,
you should just skip your walk today.”

Erin took a
walk with the stroller every day, immediately after work, when the sidewalks
were still busy and it wasn’t yet dark. She exhaled again in defeat. “I don’t
much feel like it today, but I’ve been trying so hard to establish a good
routine for her, and I hate to mess it up every time I’m tired.”

Stella wasn’t
an attractive woman. She had a plain face and graying dark hair that she pulled
back severely with clip at the nape of her neck. She had a warm smile, though, and
she offered it now to Erin. “I’d be happy to walk her this evening, since
you're not up to it. Actually, that would be perfect. You could shower and
recover a little before I leave.”

Erin tried to
argue, but Stella was adamant. And honestly Erin thought the idea of a
half-hour alone in her apartment was a dream.

So, after she’d
finished breastfeeding, Erin helped Stella get the infant in the stroller and
then felt horribly guilty—like a selfish, unnatural mother—when she was so
vastly relieved to be alone for once, when her daughter left the apartment with
the nanny.

Erin left her
icky clothes on the floor in a heap, turned on the shower, and got in.

Stood under the
warm spray of water and didn’t move, didn’t think, for a long time.

She felt better
when she got out. She was starving and had a lingering headache, but she felt
like she might actually survive until bedtime.

Before she
dressed, she stared at her naked body in the mirror.

Remembered what
she’d looked like a couple of years ago and resigned herself to never looking
like that again.

Her breasts
were full and heavy—not nearly as perky as they used to be. Her belly still
curved out more than it should, and her hips were too rounded. Checking herself
out from the side, she shook her head over the faint stretch marks.

She did wonder
if she’d lost a little more weight, though. With this in mind, she opened a
drawer to her dresser and pulled out a pair of jeans she hadn’t worn in a year.

Erin pulled
them on, moaning in relief when she could comfortably pull them up over her
hips.

Then she held
her breath. Made the final test.

Pulled up the
zipper. Fastened the button.

They closed and
were only slightly snug.

At this unexpected
victory, Erin might have squealed. Just a little.

She preened in
front of the mirror for a minute, studying how the denim fit over her ass and
thighs, until she realized that Stella would be back soon.

So she quickly
put on a clean bra and white t-shirt.  She’d just finished blowing her hair
halfway dry when she heard the apartment door open and close.

Erin hurried
out to the living room. “Look,” she called happily. “I fit into my jeans
again.”

Stella was
removing the convertible carrier from the stroller. “That’s great,” she
replied, sounding a little distracted. “It takes some women a lot longer.”

Her expression
was worried.

“What’s wrong?”
Erin asked, immediately anxious. “Is she all right? Is she sick?”

She didn’t look
sick. Her head was lolling back contentedly, and her blue eyes were getting a
little sleepy. She loved going for walks in her stroller.

“She’s fine. I
just...it’s probably nothing, but it was strange.”

“What? What is
it?”

Stella sat down
in one of the dining room chairs. “Well, maybe you’ll think I’m paranoid, but
I’ve noticed a man sitting in a car on this street a few times as I leave in
the evenings, usually just as you're taking her out for your walk. The first
couple of times I didn’t pay attention, but now I’ve seen him there several
times over the last few weeks.”

“What is he
doing?”

“Just sitting. I
always assumed he was just waiting for someone. He looks perfectly respectable,
and he’s not always there, so I’d never thought much about it, except to wonder
who he’s waiting for.” She paused thoughtfully, “Although, now that I think
about it, he did always seem to be watching
you
, as you went on your
walk. Maybe I should have said something sooner.”

Shrugging that
away, Erin stepped into the kitchen to get her dinner together. She was so
hungry she couldn't wait any longer to eat. “So what made you nervous today?”

“Well, today he
was standing outside his car. It was strange. He wasn’t there when we left the
building, but he was when I was coming back. As soon as he saw me with the
stroller, he took a few steps in my direction. Then he stopped, I think because
he saw it was me and not you. Maybe I’m wrong, but that’s what it looked like.”

Erin combed her
fingers through her slightly damp hair, feeling both confused and nervous.  She
continued peering into the refrigerator, though, hoping to find something appetizing.
“Then what did he do?”

"He turned
around, got back in his car, and drove away.”

“So you think
he’d been expecting
me
, and then left when he realized you were walking
instead?”

At Stella's
assent, she made a bewildered face and asked, “What did he look like?”

At that point, Erin
still had no idea. None at all. The obvious explanation hadn’t even occurred to
her.

So the answer crashed
into her without warning.

Stella replied,
“He was really nice looking, actually. Maybe early thirties. Wearing a nice
suit. Sometimes I think he looks kind of familiar, but I'm sure I've never met
him. He’s always wearing sunglasses, and he drives this fancy blue car. His
hair is reddish-brown.”

Erin dropped
the bag of lettuce she’d been trying to open. “What?”

When she took
in Erin’s frozen face, Stella said slowly, “It never occurred to me that he was
suspicious until today, but maybe I should have told you sooner.”

Erin ignored
the words. Couldn’t even focus on them. Felt the most intense rage she’d ever
experienced rising inside her.

Without
speaking, she pushed past Stella and went into the living room to find her
phone. Picked it up and started jabbing blindly at numbers she knew by heart.

But, before it
started ringing, she put it down again.

“Do you know
who he is?” Stella asked.

“Oh, yes. I
do.”

She was shaking
with emotion as she found her shoes and stepped into them. “Thanks, Stella,”
she managed to say. “I really appreciate you telling me.”

Then she went back
into the dining room, where her daughter was still in her carrier, almost
asleep.

“Come on,
pumpkin,” Erin muttered. “It's time we go see your daddy.”

***

Erin wasn’t made to wait very
long before the doorman allowed her up to Seth’s apartment.

She actually
hadn’t known if she would be let in at all. She’d been quite sure she would
have been turned away without question if she’d tried storming his residence
during the first weeks after their confrontation in the hospital, but now she thought
he might consider it.

Since he’d
apparently been trying to talk to her earlier that day.

Seth was
waiting for her at the door. He’d taken off his suit jacket and loosened his
tie, but he still managed to look professional, perfectly composed.

And that just
made Erin even more furious.

On the way
over, she’d been building up steam, rehearsing all of her collected resentment from
the last three months, and now she was about to erupt with it.

Very carefully,
she put her daughter’s carrier down on a large, sturdy chair in the entryway. Took
a moment to make sure the baby was all right and still asleep.

Then she took a
deep breath and prepared herself.

“Erin,” Seth
began, his face surprised and tense.

His having the
nerve to even say her name was the final straw. She turned on him.

“How dare you? You
selfish, heartless ass—” Remembering her sleeping daughter just in time, she
amended lamely, “Butthole.”

Seth opened his
mouth to reply.

She didn’t let
him. “
I’m
talking right now. You can talk when I'm done. I’ve put up
with a lot from you and I’ve tried to be reasonable about it, but this is the
limit. I know I hurt you, but I apologized. Over and over again. You don’t have
to forgive me. You can even hate me if you want. But how cold do you have to be
to take your bitterness out on your own daughter?”

She’d gestured
over toward the carrier to make her point. But, when she saw Seth’s eyes
straying over in that direction, she felt a new burst of anger. She didn’t want
him to even look at their baby.

“You wanted to
be a father,” she continued, stepping in his line of sight to draw his attention
back to her. “And now you’re just willing to give it up? You told me that you’d
be involved, that you’d be supportive, and then you just snatch it away? Because
you didn’t get your way?”

She had to
pause to breathe but didn’t let it break her momentum. “You’re a coward. Too
scared to even try. And you’re selfish, thinking only of yourself. And
heartless, because you
know
what it’s like to grow up without a father—but
you’re still willing to do it to her anyway.”

Seth’s face was
unreadable, but he took a step closer to her. Opened his mouth again.

Erin put an
abrupt hand up to stop him. “It would be one thing if you didn’t even care—if
we were meaningless to you. But you
do
care. We
do
mean something
to you. You wouldn’t be stalking us otherwise.”

When she saw
him open his mouth again to object, she growled out a sound of rage,
effectively cutting of his words once more. “You must still want to be
involved, to be a father, but you’re holding back because...” Unable to come up
with any sort of reason, she threw her hands up in utter exasperation. “I don’t
know
why
the hel—the heck you’re holding back.”

It would be a
lot easier to lay into him effectively if she didn’t always have to check her
language.

Seth tried
again to respond. Actually got out the beginning of a word this time. “Er—”

She didn’t let
him. “I’m
sorry
you felt differently about our relationship than I did. I’m
sorry if I’m to blame for the confusion.” She felt a lump in her throat again
at the memory, but forced herself to ignore it. “I’m sorry that I was so
insensitive when you...you told me. But
I’m
the one who hurt you. Not
her.

Seth’s eyes
once more shifted in the baby’s direction, as if he couldn’t quite control his
gaze.

But Erin still
wasn’t finished yet.

She stepped
forward even more. Was close enough now to touch him.

“I’m sorry you
can’t have everything you wanted, but that doesn’t mean you can offer her
nothing. And only an idiot would think it’s not worthwhile to only get
some
of what he wants.”

“Erin,” Seth
began, reaching a hand out toward her shoulder.