A Mother's Goodbye

‘The dad’s not going to be there?’

I bite my lip, cursing myself for the slip. ‘There is no dad.’

‘What—’

‘Can you just do it, Stace?’ I’d wanted to keep Grace’s single status quiet, because the last thing I need is more judgment. Single motherhood is common enough in my town, but it’s hardly ever chosen.

Stacy sighs. ‘Yes, okay. Of course I can. I’ll always help you, Heather. But I really don’t like this.’

‘Trust me, I know.’

‘Not for my sake, but for yours.’ She pauses. ‘I’m sorry for what I said before, about you being a victim. I know that wasn’t totally fair, but… I’m afraid you’re going to regret this later, when you can’t go back.’

I feel a pressure in my chest and I close my eyes. ‘Stacy, if we could keep this baby, we would.’

She is silent.

‘Do you believe me?’ I ask, my voice turning a little ragged. ‘Do you honestly believe that if I could see a way to make it happen, I would do it? Whatever it took, if it really were possible?’ The words throb through me.

Stacy doesn’t answer and I suck in a hard breath. ‘Do you?’ My voice rings out, filled with pain.

‘Yes, Heather.’ My sister’s voice is quiet and sad. ‘Yes, I believe you.’

I sag in relief.

‘Whatever I can do to help, I will.’ She let out a shuddery breath. ‘Of course I will.’

I take the train to Penn Station, and then walk to Thirty-Second Street and Seventh Avenue to get the M4 bus uptown. I’ve only come into the city a handful of times, even though we live so close. We went to see The Rockettes once, and we took the older girls to the Empire State Building when they were little, peering through those old-fashioned viewfinders to see the city up close.

New Jersey feels like a different world from the Upper East Side. It’s a sparkling, sunny day in February, and everything seems cold and shiny and bright, little flecks in the sidewalk glittering like silver.

Everyone walking by me seems purposeful and important, smartphones clamped to their ears as they hurry along, sipping their fancy Starbucks coffees, or mothers pushing strollers that remind me of race cars, their hair expertly highlighted, looking chic and skinny and so not like me. For a second I want to go home, back to the familiar, but I also don’t. This is my one day out, my one chance at something different. I keep walking.

The store where Grace asked me to meet her looks just as expensive all the other boutiques on the block, with the name spelled out in big gold letters. Inside it’s all crystal chandeliers and white velvety sofas, and when the sales assistant catches my eye I immediately feel like Julia Roberts in Pretty Woman.

I’m wearing my best maternity dress, but it’s an old sack compared to the stuff in here. I try for a smile and look around for Grace, but I don’t see her anywhere.

‘May I help you?’ The sales assistant has exactly the skeptical sort of tone I?

?d expect her to. My smile freezes. I am not going to let her intimidate me. At least, I’m not going to let her see it.

‘I’m waiting for someone.’

‘All right.’ Her expression is cool as she nods to the racks of clothes placed artfully around the room that only have about two or three items on each one. ‘Feel free to take a look around.’

‘Thanks.’ I walk over to a rack of t-shirts in different pastel colors and randomly glance at the price tag of a white one. It’s a plain short-sleeved t-shirt and it costs one hundred and twenty-eight dollars. My wedding dress didn’t cost that much. I back away from the shirt, afraid I might have stained it or something. What if I have to pay for it? What am I doing here?

‘Heather.’ Grace’s voice comes out like the peal of a bell and I turn around.

‘Hi.’

‘I’m so glad you made it.’ She looks smart and sleek in a navy skirt suit like in the photo on the Open Hearts website, everything crisp and tailored, a black leather messenger bag slung over one shoulder. She’s carrying a smartphone that looks top of the range and she slides it into the inside pocket of her suit jacket as she stands in front of me and looks me over. ‘You got here okay? Great.’

‘Yeah.’ I glance around, shifting from foot to foot. ‘The stuff here is really expensive.’ As soon as the words are out of my mouth I wish I hadn’t said them. They’re obviously not expensive for Grace.

‘You don’t need to worry about that,’ she says with a smile, and for a second I resent how easy she has it. Does she even realize? Then I tell myself to relax, that this is the point of being here, of doing it this way.

‘Why don’t we get settled, have a drink, and see what the sales assistant can rustle up for us?’ Grace nods at the frosty woman behind the cash register, who comes forward, all beaming smiles now.