\u201cOpen the bottle,\u201d she said.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
I saw it was champagne. \u201cAre we celebrating?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cI don\u2019t know, are we?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cYou tell me. You brought the wine.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cI\u2019ll do it,\u201d she whispered into my shoulder. I passed her the bottle. \u201cNo, I mean I\u2019ll have the baby.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
I wanted to believe it was because she wanted the baby too. But I was afraid to ask.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cWell, then none of this for you,\u201d I said, putting the bottle back in the bag.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cOh, I hadn\u2019t thought of that. See, I\u2019m going to be a lousy mother.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
I held her in my arms. I was confident that when Sarah met her infant she would never want to let go.
<\/p>\n\n\n\n
But I was wrong. <\/p>\n\n\n\n
Seven months later, I entered Sarah\u2019s hospital room the morning after Malia was born. The delivery was easy and she was one of those fortunate moms who timed it to get a good night\u2019s sleep. Both of them were pink and rosy. Sunlight streamed in through the blinds. The white roses Mark had brought her bloomed beside her bed. Sarah held her swaddled infant in her arms, but wasn\u2019t swayed. <\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cYour granddaughter,\u201d she said holding out the baby and presenting her to me as soon as I sat down beside her bed. <\/p>\n\n\n\n
I held Malia in my arms. \u201cShe\u2019s beautiful,\u201d I said.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cShe\u2019s perfect. She\u2019ll make some family very happy.\u201d <\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cI don\u2019t understand,\u201d I said.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
She shook her head. \u201cMom, did you really think that when I saw her I would change my mind?\u201d <\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cOf course, I did. Otherwise, I don\u2019t understand why you went through with it.\u201d <\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cWhat you said. I thought about it and if there\u2019s even a little bit of Dad or Grandma living in her, it would be a shame to lose it. I\u2019m happy that she\u2019s in the world. But I can\u2019t raise her. That\u2019s someone else\u2019s job.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
After seeing Malia, I couldn\u2019t just let her go. I even thought I detected the bow of Charlie\u2019s lips, the dimple on my mother\u2019s cheek, though I knew Malia was too young for familiar characteristics to appear. <\/p>\n\n\n\n
I looked down at the baby cradled in my arms. \u201cIt could be my job,\u201d I said.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Sarah looked up from her magazine she was skimming. \u201cWhat?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cI\u2019ll take care of her.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cMom, that\u2019s crazy,\u201d Sarah said. \u201cShe\u2019s a baby. You\u2019re old. Babies are a lot of work.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cI\u2019m not that old.\u201d I waited. \u201cShe\u2019s family just as much as you are. I can\u2019t give her away.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cYou really want to do this?\u201d Sarah asked. \u201cYou can\u2019t do it for me. That would just be more guilt. You can only do if you want to raise another child.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
I realized that I did. \u201cYou can see her whenever you want.\u201d <\/p>\n\n\n\n
It seemed like the perfect solution. I volunteered at Habitat and for the Wildlife Fund, but mostly I missed Charlie. My small apartment felt large and empty with him gone. My life felt drab and lonely. There were no more unexpected texts from Charlie as he hurried through the city. No more Charlie sharing Bloody Mary\u2019s and pepperoni on a Sunday morning as we read the New York Times<\/em>. No Charlie there to praise the frozen chicken potpie I served for dinner. I missed holding hands in bed and watching TV. That was the hardest part. That cold, empty space beside me that never got warm. Malia could keep that warm.<\/p>\n\n\n\n I imagined replacing those times I missed with Charlie with long walks through the park with Malia. I pictured myself pushing her in her pram, a lacquered navy blue, with hand-painted fleur-de-lis, and big spoked wheels, the very one I wanted for Sarah, but couldn\u2019t afford when she was young. I changed delivery on the crib and rocker from Sarah\u2019s apartment to my own. I ordered cases of diapers and disposable bottles pre-filled with formula from Amazon. I cleaned out Charlie\u2019s study, a task I avoided until then. I filled trash bags, barely registering the contents, books, papers, and memorabilia from lectures and meetings, and carried them to the dumpster downstairs. I stood at the doorway of the empty room. I imagined it yellow like the sun with puffy blue clouds on the ceiling and a border of floating butterflies.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Acting only on impulse and desire, I brought Malia home. Sarah saw Malia maybe once or twice a month, and as she promised, she left the raising of her daughter up to me. One night, my intercom rang long after Malia was bathed and fed. She was about three at the time. The weather had just turned chilly and she was wearing footed pajamas for the first time that year. For Malia, who couldn\u2019t remember being two, it was her first time ever and she was fascinated by the mysterious loss of her toes. I rose from the couch where I was reading her The Cat in the Hat<\/em> and answered the buzzer.<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cPizza party!\u201d Sarah announced from the lobby.<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cMommy, Daddy.\u201d Malia brightened at the sound of her mother\u2019s voice.<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cWhy don\u2019t you ever call first?\u201d I started to say. I found their spontaneity intrusive, and disruptive to our routine, but Malia was their daughter and I wasn\u2019t about to discourage contact, however infrequent and inconsiderate. I excused their youthful behavior, at the same time realizing that their choice not to keep the child displayed an uncharacteristic moment of maturity on both their parts.<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cCome on up,\u201d I said instead.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Sarah used her key to open the door and before she could even put the big box down, Malia was trying to jump into her arms. <\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cI have ice cream too,\u201d she said, putting the pizza on the table and hitching Malia to her hip as she walked over to the freezer. <\/p>\n\n\n\n I laid out the big plaid blanket Charlie and I used to take to the beach and we had a pizza picnic on the living room floor. We stayed there long after Malia should have been in bed, eating pizza, the grown-ups making moustaches with the crusts because it was always fun to make her laugh. <\/p>\n\n\n\n I looked at her, covered with pizza and chocolate sauce, and as happy as she could be. \u201cI think someone needs another bath,\u201d I said. <\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cAnother one?\u201d Malia fluttered her eyelashes at me. \u201cDo I have to?\u201d <\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cI\u2019ll do it,\u201d Sarah said. Malia was on her feet in seconds.<\/p>\n\n\n\n I cleaned up from the impromptu party while Sarah bathed her daughter. After reading her a story and putting her to bed, she returned to the kitchen. We sat at the table and I poured each of us another glass of wine. <\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cShe\u2019s always so happy to see you.\u201d <\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cMark and I are getting a bigger apartment.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cThat\u2019s great, honey,\u201d I said.<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cIt\u2019s time I took some more responsibility.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n I felt my palms go sweaty. I didn\u2019t want to hear what she said next. \u201cWhat do you mean?\u201d I asked. \u201cYou have a lot of responsibility. You\u2019ve got your job. And now this bigger place.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cMom, I think we\u2019re ready.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cReady for what?\u201d I asked, but I knew.<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cWe want Malia to come live with us. We want to keep her,\u201d she said. \u201cFor good,\u201d she added. \u201cWe have a room for her and everything.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n I started to cry.<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cMom, it\u2019s a good thing. Isn\u2019t this what you always wanted? For me to raise Malia. You should be happy.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n But I wasn\u2019t. \u201cYou can\u2019t just stroll in here and take her back like that,\u201d I said.<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cMom, I appreciate all you\u2019ve done. Really, I do. You showed me how to be a mother. God, there wouldn\u2019t even be a Malia if it wasn\u2019t for you,\u201d she said. \u201cBut, she\u2019s my kid.\u201d <\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cWhere have you been for three years?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cI\u2019ve been around.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cI thought you didn\u2019t want to raise her,\u201d I said. \u201cI thought you gave that job to me.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cMom, you\u2019re her grandmother. I know how much you love her and she really loves you, but I\u2019m her mom.\u201d A year ago, Mark found a new job in Santa Monica, thousands of miles from where we all lived. Though they hadn\u2019t married, the three of them were a family by then and Sarah intended to go along. They were becoming the grown-ups Sarah predicted they would be when they were ready. When I was able to look beyond my sorrow, a part of me was very proud of her.<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cIs Malia going with you?\u201d I asked. Five now, she had been living with Mark and Sarah for almost two years, but a small bitter part of me always hoped the novelty of being a parent would wear off. Maybe Sarah would change her mind again, find Malia too difficult to pack and move, and give her back to me. But Sarah was doing a great job. She discovered that she loved being a mom.<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cWhat a silly question. Of course, we\u2019re taking her,\u201d she said. \u201cMalia\u2019s our daughter.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cI see.\u201d <\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cCome and visit anytime,\u201d she added. \u201cThere will always be room for you.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cOf course.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n The night before they moved away, Sarah let Malia stay with me. I made macaroni and cheese, the noodles shaped like dinosaurs, her favorite food. We stayed up late, cuddled in my bed. We watched Peter Pan<\/em> and ate chocolate chip cookies not worrying about the crumbs.<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cAre you excited?\u201d I asked her.<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cMommy says our house is near the ocean. And there are swings right on the beach. And that it\u2019s warm there every day.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n I smiled. \u201cThat sounds so nice.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cAre you excited?\u201d Malia asked me.<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cAbout what, honey?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cMoving to our new house,\u201d she said.<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cDidn\u2019t your mommy tell you?\u201d I was angry that Sarah had left this difficult task to me. \u201cI\u2019m going to live here, but you can come and stay here with me anytime. And of course, I\u2019ll come and visit you.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cWhy aren\u2019t you coming with us?\u201d Malia asked me. Her eyes grew wide and began to fill with tears.<\/p>\n\n\n\n I struggled to remain composed. \u201cI\u2019m just going to get us some milk,\u201d I said, \u201cto go with the cookies.\u201d I didn\u2019t want her to see me cry. When I returned, Malia\u2019s question was forgotten. A typical five-year-old, she was on to the next.<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cCan I sleep with you tonight?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cOf course.\u201d Malia spent one last night warming the spot that Charlie had vacated.<\/p>\n\n\n\n In the morning, she woke me early, burrowing down under the covers and tickling my feet. I made some coffee, then we made pancakes, silly ones that looked like faces, with whipped cream for the hair and maraschino cherries for the eyes. I gave her a new pair of footed pajamas to take with her even though it was too warm to wear them where she was going. I took off my locket and hung it around her neck. I wanted her to think of me every day. Then it was time for her to go. Mark waited in the car with the motor running while Sarah came upstairs to get her. I didn\u2019t have a lot of time.<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cCome over here,\u201d I said and hugged Malia tight inside my arms. She still smelled like maple syrup. I didn\u2019t know how long I could hold on to that feeling, the warmth of her body pressed against mine, but I wanted it to last. I didn\u2019t know when I would see them again. I gave Sarah a hug as well.<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cThank you, mom,\u201d she whispered into my ear.<\/p>\n\n\n\n She held out her hand and Malia grasped it. They were both eager to begin their journey. I stood outside the elevator and watched the doors close. Malia became a sliver and then completely slipped from sight. Marion Immerman\u2019s<\/strong> writing career began as a copywriter on Madison Avenue. After ten years, she moved to Honolulu, Hawaii where she continued to write and produce commercials. A second move brought her to Philadelphia where she found the advertising landscape dim. Instead, she wrote countless short stories, two novels and one memoir. After taking several workshops and courses in creative writing as a non-matriculating student, she began the Masters of Fine Arts program at Rosemont College and graduated May 2017. The next step is seeing her words in print.<\/p><\/blockquote>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":" Footed Pajamas Sarah returned to my apartment one night, five years ago, covered in twigs and smelling like beer. Malia, the baby conceived in the park and named after the president\u2019s daughter, was an accident. Though Sarah and Mark remained together, a baby was never in their immediate plans. Malia probably wouldn\u2019t exist at all if I hadn\u2019t found the appointment for Planned Parenthood on Sarah\u2019s calendar. I wasn\u2019t snooping, just changing the sheets on her bed, several weeks after the night in the park, when I found the datebook open. A doctor\u2019s appointment was circled in red. I cornered Sarah over breakfast the next morning. I put a cup of coffee and a bowl of oatmeal in front of her, then sat down across the table. \u201cWhy are you seeing a doctor?\u201d She wasn\u2019t coy and she didn\u2019t ask how I knew. \u201cI\u2019m having an abortion,\u201d she said. I wondered if the open datebook had been intentional. I wasn\u2019t anti-abortion, but it only took me one sleepless night to discover something I never knew about myself before. My husband Charlie had recently passed and my mother died a year before that. Both before their time. Our small family was diminishing. So soon after both of their deaths, I couldn\u2019t bear to lose someone else. It seemed cruel and unnecessary. I told Sarah. \u201cGod, Mom. You sound like one of those people waving a sign outside Planned Parenthood.\u201d She put her cereal bowl in the sink and walked out of the kitchen. I followed her down the hallway back to her room. \u201cHardly.\u201d \u201cI\u2019m not ready to have a child. My body. My choice. Remember teaching me all of that?\u201d She grabbed some clothes off a chair and headed back down the hallway to shower. \u201cTwenty-one is not that young,\u201d I said. She shut the bathroom door. When she came out, smelling of lilacs, her damp hair leaving a wet spot on her shirt, I was still waiting. \u201cWhat if you change your mind? I mean once you do it, you can\u2019t go back.\u201d \u201cCan\u2019t you even say the word? The abortion, you mean? I won\u2019t,\u201d she interrupted me. \u201cWho knows if Mark and I will even stay together?\u201d \u201cWhat if you have the baby and then decide?\u201d I asked. \u201cWould you consider that possibility?\u201d \u201cYou want me to go through nine months of pregnancy, just to give it away? Talk about cruel and unnecessary.\u201d \u201cIt\u2019s not an \u2018it,\u2019 Sarah. It\u2019s a baby.\u201d \u201cAre we really having this conversation? What I do is none of your fucking business, Mom. Don\u2019t you think this is hard enough already? You have no right to pressure me like this.\u201d She walked around me. Out of my apartment. Probably right into Mark\u2019s arms. Of course, she was right. Several days later, Sarah returned to the apartment. She arrived late one afternoon and went to her room and shut the door. She didn\u2019t emerge for several hours. After dinner, she walked into the living room, where I was watching Law and Order. She held a brown bag and two wine glasses from the kitchen cabinet. She set this all down in front of me. She sat down beside me, then tugged on the afghan so that it could cover her too. She rested her head on my shoulder and snuggled against me just like she did when she was a little girl. I could see she had been crying. \u201cOpen the bottle,\u201d she said. I saw it was champagne. \u201cAre we celebrating?\u201d \u201cI don\u2019t know, are we?\u201d \u201cYou tell me. You brought the wine.\u201d \u201cI\u2019ll do it,\u201d she whispered into my shoulder. I passed her the bottle. \u201cNo, I mean I\u2019ll have the baby.\u201d I wanted to believe it was because she wanted the baby too. But I was afraid to ask. \u201cWell, then none of this for you,\u201d I said, putting the bottle back in the bag. \u201cOh, I hadn\u2019t thought of that. See, I\u2019m going to be a lousy mother.\u201d I held her in my arms. I was confident that when Sarah met her infant she would never want to let go. But I was wrong. Seven months later, I entered Sarah\u2019s hospital room the morning after Malia was born. The delivery was easy and she was one of those fortunate moms who timed it to get a good night\u2019s sleep. Both of them were pink and rosy. Sunlight streamed in through the blinds. The white roses Mark had brought her bloomed beside her bed. Sarah held her swaddled infant in her arms, but wasn\u2019t swayed. \u201cYour granddaughter,\u201d she said holding out the baby and presenting her to me as soon as I sat down beside her bed. I held Malia in my arms. \u201cShe\u2019s beautiful,\u201d I said. \u201cShe\u2019s perfect. She\u2019ll make some family very happy.\u201d \u201cI don\u2019t understand,\u201d I said. She shook her head. \u201cMom, did you really think that when I saw her I would change my mind?\u201d \u201cOf course, I did. Otherwise, I don\u2019t understand why you went through with it.\u201d \u201cWhat you said. I thought about it and if there\u2019s even a little bit of Dad or Grandma living in her, it would be a shame to lose it. I\u2019m happy that she\u2019s in the world. But I can\u2019t raise her. That\u2019s someone else\u2019s job.\u201d After seeing Malia, I couldn\u2019t just let her go. I even thought I detected the bow of Charlie\u2019s lips, the dimple on my mother\u2019s cheek, though I knew Malia was too young for familiar characteristics to appear. I looked down at the baby cradled in my arms. \u201cIt could be my job,\u201d I said. Sarah looked up from her magazine she was skimming. \u201cWhat?\u201d \u201cI\u2019ll take care of her.\u201d \u201cMom, that\u2019s crazy,\u201d Sarah said. \u201cShe\u2019s a baby. You\u2019re old. Babies are a lot of work.\u201d \u201cI\u2019m not that old.\u201d I waited. \u201cShe\u2019s family just as much as you are. I can\u2019t give her away.\u201d \u201cYou really want to do this?\u201d Sarah asked. \u201cYou<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":954,"parent":3462,"menu_order":0,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"closed","template":"templates\/page-full-width.php","meta":{"om_disable_all_campaigns":false,"_monsterinsights_skip_tracking":false,"_monsterinsights_sitenote_active":false,"_monsterinsights_sitenote_note":"","_monsterinsights_sitenote_category":0,"footnotes":""},"class_list":["post-974","page","type-page","status-publish","has-post-thumbnail","hentry"],"aioseo_notices":[],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/thepetigrureview.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/pages\/974","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/thepetigrureview.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/pages"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/thepetigrureview.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/types\/page"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/thepetigrureview.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/thepetigrureview.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcomments&post=974"}],"version-history":[{"count":0,"href":"https:\/\/thepetigrureview.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/pages\/974\/revisions"}],"up":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/thepetigrureview.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/pages\/3462"}],"wp:featuredmedia":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/thepetigrureview.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/media\/954"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/thepetigrureview.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fmedia&parent=974"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}
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