The Baby

By the time I arrived at the park, the daily exorcism was already in full swing. From the playground—fenced off from the rest of the place, like a little prison—the children’s screams rang out. They wailed, and cried, and laughed. The chains of the swing set creaked.

And then, I saw Avra.

I didn’t recognize her at first. Maybe it was because she wasn’t just Avra anymore. She was also the stroller, and the baby on her hip, and the little blonde child that clung to her leg. My eyes lingered a second too long, and she saw me.

“Claude?”

She looked at me like I was something mystical. The affection in her voice was confusing, after all these years. She swung herself around, so I could hug her free side. When we embraced, I could feel her hip bone. I stepped back.

“You look exactly the same.”

I wasn’t sure whether to take it as a compliment, or something else. From the pavement, her daughter scowled up at me, like a guard dog.

“Claude’s a boy’s name,” the girl said.

I smiled, then bent down to address her.

“It’s a nickname. My real name’s Claudia. What’s yours?”

She continued staring, like she alone could see something in me that her mother hadn’t. But then, all at once, her face shifted.

“I’m Lina,” she said, proud of her name in the way children are. She held up her hand, flexing her fingers. “I’m five.”

“She’s really four and a half,” Avra whispered to me, like I understood the difference. She turned so I could see the baby sleeping against her shoulder. “And this is Sigrid. She’s eight months.”

Even though Sigrid’s eyes were closed, I could see the resemblance between mother and daughter: dark hair against pale skin. It almost felt too intimate to be standing there. It was obvious that just a short time ago, they were one. Sigrid felt less like a baby, and more like a part of Avra I never wanted to see. She must have sensed it, because as I was about to make up some excuse to go, she looked up at me.

“Do you live around here?” she asked.

“Kind of,” I said. “I’m on the other side of the overpass. But I like this park–”

“We do, too,” she interjected. “Our house is just over there. We bought it last year.”

“Which house?” I asked, too quickly.

“The blue one. With the red shutters.”

I didn’t need any other description. It was my favorite house on that street. I remembered seeing the realtor’s sign out front. I also remembered when it disappeared. I didn’t tell Avra this.

“Actually,” she said, “You should come over. We’re having a cookout later.”

It would have been easy enough to lie, to say I had other plans. It was a holiday weekend, after all. But even as I thought this, I said something different.

“I’d love to.”

I gave her my number, even though it hadn’t changed. We hugged again, and after I walked away, I turned back to wave goodbye. On the other side of the park, I found an empty bench. There, I tried to read the book I’d brought along with me. It had been a bestseller the year before, when I’d been too busy to read it. But after only a couple of pages, I gave up. If I was going to Avra’s, I’d have to go home and get ready, anyway. Above me, the trees looked like fireworks, each leaf a little star. Already, the city was overgrown.

I looked at my phone. She had, of course, already texted me her address with a simple plea.

Come. Seriously.

~

“What darling sailor shorts!” Avra exclaimed when she opened the door.

I looked down, suddenly self-conscious of the oversized gold buttons.

“We’re all out back,” she said, holding the door open for me. The ceilings were lower than I had imagined, which only made the little house feel more charming. Inside, it smelled like baking spice, as if the walls themselves were made of gingerbread. I followed Avra down the length of the hallway to the kitchen, where the door to the back patio was open like a postcard. Outside, Avra’s husband was grilling sausages. He lifted a tong in greeting as we approached, although he didn’t look natural behind the grill. His hair was so blond it was almost white—a shade common enough in children, but rare in adults. Behind him, the party was already assembled at a long glass patio table.

“Everyone, meet Claude,” Avra said. “An old college friend. We studied abroad in Spain together.”

I put my tote bag down, before making my way around the table, shaking hands like a politician. The chairs were all askew, pushed out at strange angles to make room for the babies sitting on laps. I recognized one of them as Sigrid. There was an open chair, but I decided to keep standing instead.

A redheaded woman I just met smiled up at me. I had already forgotten her name.

“Where were you in Spain?”

“Madrid,” Avra answered from behind me. “We lived with this little old woman named Manuela. Even though her daughters had grown up and moved out, she kept their room the same. That’s where we slept, in twin beds.”

When Avra told the story, it had the air of a fairy tale. But the truth was, the old widow and her dark apartment scared me. Every night when I fell asleep, looking up at the faded pastel angels painted on the ceiling, I longed for home. I never made any Spanish friends that semester, as I had hoped.

They looked at me, waiting for a response.

“Well, Avra was the favorite.” I said, trying to be generous. “Her Spanish was so good, Manuela would send her to the butcher’s to pick up whatever she needed.” Even back then, I recognized that Avra’s fluency was made possible by a confidence I never had. I was always afraid of going to the market and saying something wrong and accidentally ordering too much of something I couldn’t afford.

“I learned a lot from her,” Avra mused. “We stayed in touch for a long time. She almost made it to a hundred.”

“She died?” I blurted out, without thinking. Because of course, it was the type of thing Avra would have told me before, if we hadn’t lost touch.

“A few years ago,” Avra said, leaving it at that.

“I’m sorry,” I said instinctively, not knowing myself if it was a condolence, or an apology.

But Avra just smiled.

“Could I get you something to drink?”

“I’ll help myself,” I said. “Over there, right?”

Avra nodded, pointing at a folding table on the other side of the patio.

I turned, thankful for the reprieve. As I made my way there, I discovered Avra’s older daughter huddled in the corner, methodically going through my tote bag, like a TSA agent. Next to her, I recognized my wallet, the book, a water bottle.

“Oh, there’s nothing fun in there,” I said, my voice hitting a higher pitch than usual. “Just boring grown-up stuff.”

Lina ignored me, focusing instead on her task.

“What’s this?” she asked.

“It’s a disposable camera,” I said, relieved she didn’t pull out my pack of cigarettes instead. I saw my chance. “See? You look through the viewfinder like this.”

Captivated, Lina took the camera, abandoning the bag as I had hoped. I collected my things and placed them back inside, looking up just as I heard the distinct click of the camera: a hollow, plastic sound. Lina had taken a picture of me. I watched as she tried to press the button again, unsuccessfully.

“You have to wind it up. Here, let me show you,” I said, hoping to coax it away from her.

But Lina turned away, hunching over it and winding it up herself instead. She looked to the sky and took another picture. Click.

I feigned a laugh. “OK, I think that’s enough.” I had just bought the camera before Robby left town, the day we went to the beach. But we had forgotten about it and hadn’t taken any pictures. She tilted the camera down, aiming it at her shoes. Another click.

I looked around for Avra, hoping she would intervene. There she was, over by the grill, talking to one of her friends. Lina clicked away.

“Can I have it back now? Please?”

But instead of answering me, she turned and walked away, crossing the patio and disappearing inside the house. I thought about letting her go, but I wasn’t sure if that was the right thing to do. Could you leave a four-and-a-half-year-old alone? Was I responsible for her now? These were things I didn’t know. And anyway, I wanted my camera back. So I followed her.

The house was quiet as I made my way back down the hallway, following the sound of Lina’s voice as she talked aloud to herself. I finally found her in the living room, where she was already busy assembling a group of toys on the couch: a rag doll with yellow yarn hair, a stuffed dog, a plastic troll with a gemstone for a navel. She put them side by side, before taking their picture, too. I had an idea.

“Who’s this?” I asked, picking up the doll. “Lulu!”

I held the doll to my ear, nodding as if she was telling me a secret.

“What’s she saying?” Lina asked.

I paused for dramatic effect before answering. “She said she wants a picture with you!”

Lina’s blue eyes widened as she looked at the doll. I passed it to her, taking the camera from her other hand as I did. She then pressed Lulu to her face, smiling so big her eyes closed.

“Cheese!” I said, pressing the button.

Lina laughed. But then, she held out her hand. I kept the camera for a moment longer, before finally surrendering and giving it back. She took it, lifting it to her face again. As I was about to pose, I heard the familiar sound. Click.

Then, as if something had occurred to her, she let the camera drop to her side and looked at me mischievously.

“I know your baby.”

“What baby?” I asked.

“Your baby!”

“But I don’t have a baby, Lina.”

“Yes. You. Do!”

“Okay,” I said, playing along. “Tell me about this baby. My baby.”

She lowered her voice, even though we were the only ones in the room. “I met her.”

“Where did you meet her?”

“In the other place.”

From the couch, the black, plastic eyes of the toys stared at me.

“Where is the other place, Lina?”

She shrugged. “It’s hard to remember.”

The shades were drawn in the living room, and for the first time, I realized how dark it was inside. For a moment, there was only the faint sound of the party from the patio. But then, I heard footsteps down the hallway. When Avra saw me down on the floor, she started laughing.

“Are you two having fun?” she asked

“Yeah!” Lina exclaimed, her face lighting up.

“Well, I hate to break it up, but it’s time to eat.”

“I’m not hungry,” Lina protested.

“Really? Come on. It’s so nice out,” Avra said to Lina, although she was looking at me. Understanding the cue, I stood up, stumbling as I did. I’d been on the floor long enough for my legs to fall asleep. When I joined Avra, the toys and blocks and puzzle pieces on the floor looked like a strange landscape now, seen from a higher altitude.

I wanted to ask Lina more about the baby. But it felt like a strange thing to bring up, especially in front of Avra. When we were all back outside, Lina tried to take another picture, but the camera wouldn’t click. I saw the panic and confusion in her face.

To cheer her up, I told her I knew how to get the pictures out of it. And that if she gave it to me, the next time I saw her, she could see all of them.

“You promise?” she asked.

“I promise.”

I didn’t stay long at the party after that. The conversations had shifted to daycare and teething and infant swim classes. I stood on the periphery without anything to say, like I was in a class I hadn’t done the reading for. After I said my goodbyes, I saw myself out, carefully closing Avra’s front door behind me. But as I crossed through the park on my way home, I thought about the baby again. The sun was beginning to set, changing the sky into marble hues of peach and lavender and cream. Everything was tinged in a golden light. Even me, I supposed.

~

A few days later, I was standing on the corner by the photo lab, flipping through the developed pictures.

There was Lina’s hand, the sky, her shoes. And then, there was me. It wasn’t the most flattering picture. There were circles under my eyes and my smile was crooked and my face was a little red from the sun. But she had captured something. I looked like myself.

I texted Avra to see if she wanted to meet up. She responded back immediately.

We’re at the park now, if you want to join!

I walked there straight away, finding them on the path outside the playground. Avra held Sigrid in her arms, while Lina drew on the pavement with charcoal the color of Easter eggs.

After we exchanged greetings, I pulled the pictures out of my bag to show Avra.

“Lina took these at the party,” I said, slowly flipping through them so she could appreciate each one.

“Wait,” Avra said, “Did she take your camera? I’m sorry. We’re trying to teach her she can’t take whatever she—”

I stopped her before she could finish. “No, not at all. We had fun.”

“Still,” Avra said.

The word hung in the air as we stood there. I looked up at a tree, and saw a balloon tangled in its branches.

“I’m sorry we didn’t get to talk more at the party,” Avra said, changing the subject. “I realized I don’t even know who you live with.”

“Oh, my boyfriend,” I said. “His name’s Robby.”

“When can I meet him!” Avra exclaimed. She sounded giddy, like a girl again. I didn’t know how to match her enthusiasm.

“He’s been out of town for work, actually. He directs TV commercials.”

“We should all go out one night when he’s back. You, me, Sven, Robby . . .” But before she could finish her thought, Sigrid cried out. Avra gently placed her hand on her head, and started dipping up and down, trying to bounce her into passivity again. It wasn’t enough.

“She wants the stroller,” Avra said to me, looking back towards the playground, where it was parked.

“I can watch Lina, if you need to go sit.”

Avra raised her eyebrows, as she continued to bounce.

“Are you sure?”

“Of course,” I said, “I don’t mind.”

Avra thanked me, before turning to walk away. After she was out of earshot, I crouched down next to Lina, careful not to disturb her. With a furrowed brow, Lina carefully drew the long line of a cat’s whisker. I stared at it like I was watching the first animal being painted on the cave in Lascaux. It was a privilege to be the one witnessing it. I was reminded of that world, the one I used to occupy. It was a world of symbols: hearts and stars and flowers. Simple, easy things. Impossibly complex things: Nature. The Cosmos. Love.

But Avra hadn’t seemed to notice any of that, just like she hadn’t looked at the pictures I showed her, not really. I thought if I was a mother, I would be different.

That’s when I remembered the baby.

“Hey Lina,” I said, “I have an idea. Do you think you can draw a picture of the baby, the one you were telling me about?”

She kept her eyes on the pavement.

“No,” she said, “I’m making the cat right now.”

I watched as she drew the triangle of its nose, before the idea struck me.

“Well, do you remember the pictures you took?” I pulled the paper sleeve that contained them out of my bag, dangling it in the air.

Lina’s eyes got wide, as she reached for them.

“If you draw the baby, I’ll give them to you. And you can keep them.”

“Forever?” she asked.

“Forever,” I said.

Without another word, she started to draw. And on the path, I watched as a lopsided circle was filled in with details: impossibly big eyes, hair that looked like cursive, an arc of a smile. And I saw my baby for the first time.

I was so entranced by the image, I didn’t notice when Lina stopped. “Can I have the pictures now?” she asked.

I gave them to her, watching her lay them out like playing cards on the pavement. She studied them like a gambler. As she did, Avra returned, bouncing a happy baby, as if we were on one of Robby’s commercial sets and Sigrid had been swapped out.

“Sorry. And thanks for watching her,” Avra said, slightly out of breath from the effort. I told her it was nothing, then made a face to make Sigrid laugh. She giggled, reaching out her arms towards me.

“Want to hold her?” Avra asked, already lifting the baby towards me. Reflexively, I stepped back.

“Oh, I can’t. I don’t know how.

“You’ve never held a baby?”

I shook my head. “I’ve always been too scared.”

Avra laughed. “There’s nothing to be afraid of. Here, let’s sit.” I followed Avra a few steps away to a bench. We sat on the wooden slats, and without saying anything more, Avra held out the baby to me, as if I didn’t have a choice but to take her. My hands shook as I carefully placed them under her arms anyway. All I could see around us was pavement. I scooted forward on the bench, making space for her on my hip, just as I’d seen Avra do.

“See?” Avra said. “Not so scary.”

Sigrid looked back towards her mother. I waited for her to start crying so I could return her. But instead, she looked up at me and laughed again.

“She likes you!” Avra said. “Babies can sense energy, you know.”

I wondered if that was true, or if Avra was just being nice.

“Try standing,” Avra said, like it was a dare. I snapped my head to look at her—did she know how reckless she was being? As if she could read my mind, she gently nudged my arm. “Don’t worry. You’ve got her, Claude.”

So when I tightened my arms around Sigrid and slowly stood up, it wasn’t because of any innate belief in myself. If anything, I did it to show Avra she was wrong. But then, nothing happened. Standing there, with Sigrid on my hip, felt natural. I tried bouncing a little, just like I’d watched Avra do.

“See!” Avra smiled.

And despite myself, I smiled, too. Funny to realize babies were heavier than I’d imagined. Funny that there was comfort in this. Holding Sigrid, I did feel weighed down, but in a pleasant way. I was being held down—held closer?—to the world around me, to life, to myself. Grounded. Sigrid reached out a tiny finger, and touched my face, like a blessing.

I looked back toward the pavement at Lina’s drawing of the baby. With my eyes turned away like that, I could pretend I was holding that baby—my baby—and not Sigrid. There she is, I thought. I longed for the day I would meet her finally. But as if Sigrid could sense my wavering attention, she started to cry.

“It’s okay, it’s okay,” Avra said, gently taking her back. I wasn’t sure if she was reassuring Sigrid, or me.

But it didn’t matter anymore. Because even though my arms were empty, I could still feel the weight.

~

Robby came home from the shoot with a tan the same color as his khakis. But as he shared the details of his trip—seeing Steve Martin in the hotel lobby, the $18 room service smoothies, the perfect weather—I found myself growing impatient at the little details I used to relish. It seemed so trivial now, compared to the time I’d been spending with Avra and her daughters. I decided to change the subject.

“The weirdest thing happened. I ran into an old friend in the park, a few weeks ago.”

“Oh. Who?” he asked.

“Avra. You know. From college.”

“You’ve never mentioned her.”

“Yeah, I have,” I said. “The girl I lived with, when I studied abroad.”

“In that scary old widow’s house?” he asked, his eyes lighting up. It was one of his favorite stories of mine. But then, he hesitated. “I thought you didn’t like her, though?”

“That’s not true,” I protested. “We hung out a lot. Anyway, she lives in the neighborhood and has two kids—a four-and-a-half-year-old, and an eight-month-old.” I could see his eyes glazing over at this description. Robby and I, after all, had always thought all kids were the same.

“It’s been fun hanging out with them, actually. We should go by their place sometime,” I offered. I was desperately trying to show him the way, holding out my wares: this wisdom I had gained, this vision of a deeper truth, a more meaningful life.

He nodded his head and looked down at the floor.

“I was kind of hoping,” he said, “just to see you.”

The words shouldn’t have hurt me, but they did. He wanted me, yes. But he didn’t know what I knew: that like a Russian nesting doll, I contained something so much greater than myself. Look! I wanted to scream. We can finally see what our great-great-grandparents looked like! We might recognize a nose, or an eye color—but there will be mysteries in that creation, too. Mysteries we will never solve, but face every day of our lives, in awe.

“Maybe next time, then,” I said. We made plans to take a weekend trip. But when we drove out of the city that Friday, it started to rain. And the whole drive up, all I could think about was the park, and how the baby’s face would be washed away by the time I got back.

~

After Robby returned to the shoot, I texted Avra back. She invited me over for lunch that weekend. I thought about Lina, and what else I could bring to bribe her. At first, I was just going to buy something, until I remembered the trash bag hidden away in my closet. I dumped the contents of the bag on the bed. Out they tumbled, all those relics of my childhood. And there, in the middle of it all, was the pink plastic shell. Inside it, little figurines jangled like loose change. I sat on the edge of the bed and opened it, revealing a perfectly preserved world: there was the tiny bathtub, and the kitchen, and even the toilet with the lid that could move up and down. I held up one of the figurines—a girl that was no larger than my fingernail.

Perfect, I thought. Lina will love this.

~

“Look what I dug up.”

Avra admired the shell like a precious jewel, putting Sigrid on the ground so she could take a closer look.

“Oh wow. I think I had one of these too, once. Mine wasn’t as fun, though. I think it was a classroom or something.”

I could tell Avra wanted to reminisce over this shared experience, but I was too eager to show Lina. I sat down next to her on the floor.

“Look Lina,” I said. “There’s a whole world inside.”

“It’s me!” she exclaimed, immediately noticing the blonde figurine.

“Yes! And see? You can bend her like this, and she can sit here.” I watched as Lina placed the figurine in the little rocking chair and started to move it back and forth.

“It’s too bad about Robby.”

“I know,” I said. “He wasn’t here long, though.”

“I’d still really like to meet him, sometime.”

When I didn’t say anything, she sat down next to me.

“When’s he back in town?”

“The end of next week, I think.”

“So maybe that weekend?”

“Yeah,” I said, “Sure.”

I felt her eyes linger on me. I ignored it. Avra excused herself to check on the chicken, while I stayed with the girls. As soon as I heard her footsteps in the kitchen, I whispered to Lina.

“Hey Lina,” I asked. “Do you still talk to the baby?”

“Mmmhmm” Lina said, keeping her eyes on the chair.

“What do you talk about?”

At first, Lina said nothing. But then, she looked up at me. “Well, she’s getting mad,” Lina said.

“Oh?” I asked, taken aback. My heart started beating faster. “Why?”

“She says she wants another mommy.”

“But I’m her mommy,” I insisted. “She can’t just choose someone else.”

“Yes, she can,” Lina said, slamming the shell down in frustration. “She wants a real mommy.”

I looked at the shell on the floor and noticed, for the first time, a spot where the bright pink plastic had flaked off. Tears stung my eyes. I let them pool there, afraid of them streaming down my face. And then, Lina started to laugh.

“Look! Sigrid is making a funny face!”

I turned to see Sigrid staring out into the distance, her eyes bulging.

A deep, primal fear arose in me. Sigrid looked my way, desperate. I didn’t know what to do. Lina was still laughing. “Avra!” I screamed. A second passed, and then another. And then, miraculously, Avra was moving across the room like a comet, picking up Sigrid and immediately placing her face down along her forearm. With the back of her hand, she administered a series of rapid slaps between Sigrid’s tiny shoulder blades.

“Oh my God,” I heard myself say. The tears already felt cold in my eyes. I blinked them away, bringing the scene into sharp focus.

And then, an object dropped to the floor.

I looked to find one of the figurines from the shell, covered in the shiny sheen of saliva.

Avra turned Sigrid over, raising her hand to her cheek, making sure she was breathing again. Avra’s eyes flashed to me.

“Avra, I’m so sorry, it must have fallen out . . .”

Not knowing what else to do, I snatched the figurine and put it back in the shell, closing it tight. The tears came back. I wasn’t sure why I was crying anymore: if it was for my baby, or Avra’s, or myself.

For a moment, Avra stared at me. But then, she sighed.

“Hey, Claude. Sigrid’s fine. Look? She’s fine.”

I nodded, keeping my eyes on the plastic shell in my hands.

“It’s all right,” Avra said, gently touching my shoulder. I looked up, meeting her kind, brown eyes. But then, her tone shifted. “We just have to be careful not to leave little things around, okay?”

And despite myself, I nodded. She smiled when I did.

“All right then,” she said, standing up. I watched her pick up Sigrid, as Lina followed close behind. After a moment, I stood up, too. We went into the kitchen, where the table was already set. It occurred to me I should probably have offered to help in some way before, but it didn’t matter now. I sat down at the table, and let Avra serve me, as if I was another one of her daughters. Sigrid gurgled in her highchair. I still couldn’t bring myself to look at her. From across the table, Lina smirked at me.

After lunch, I left. Later that week, Avra texted me to make plans, as if nothing had happened. I started to write a response—I even thought about apologizing once more—but I didn’t send it. I told myself I would. But then a day passed, and then a week, and then I never saw her again.

Robby came back shortly after that. All his productions had wrapped, so he was home for the rest of the summer. We cooked dinner together and went to the beach on the weekends. I realized, when our life resumed its usual rhythm, how much I had missed him. I stopped going to the park, but I found another one not so far away. It didn’t have a playground, just a big track in the middle. Sometimes I walked its outer ring, orbiting the runners like a slow planet. When I got tired of that, I would sit on a bench. There, I finally finished the book I’d been carrying around. It was nice spending my time like that, just letting the days go by.