โWhatโsย wrong?โ Elizabeth begged for the millionth time. โJust TELL me!โ
But the baby, whoโd been crying nonstop for weeks, refused to be specific.
Even Six-Thirty was flummoxed.ย But I told you about your father,ย he communicated.ย We talked about this.ย But still the creature wailed.
Elizabeth paced the small bungalow at two a.m., bouncing the bundle up and down, her arms stiff like a rusted robot until she ran into a stack of books and almost tripped. โDammit,โ she cried, mashing the baby against her chest in a protective move. In her new-mother stupor, the floor had become a convenient dumping ground for everything: tiny socks, unsecured diaper pins, old banana peels, unread newspapers. โHow can someone this small cause all this?โ she cried. In response, the baby placed its tiny mouth against Elizabethโs ear, took a deep breath, and roared back the answer.
โPlease,โ Elizabeth whispered, sinking into a chair. โPlease, please, pleaseย stop.โ She nestled her daughter in the crook of her arm, nudged the bottleโs nipple against her doll lips, and although sheโd refused it five times before, the little thing latched on voraciously as if she knew her ignorant mother would get there in the end. Elizabeth held her breath as if the smallest intake of air might cause the thing to go off again. The baby was a ticking time bomb. One false move and it was over.
Dr. Mason had warned her that infants were hard work, but this wasnโt work: it was indenture. The tiny tyrant was no less demanding than Nero; no less insane than King Ludwig. And the crying. It made her feel
inadequate. Worse, it raised the possibility that her daughter might not like her. Already.
Elizabeth closed her eyes and saw her own mother, a cigarette stuck to her bottom lip, her ashes landing in the casserole Elizabeth had just taken out of the oven. Yes. Not liking oneโs mother from the very start was entirely possible.
Beyond that, there was the repetitivenessโthe feeding, the bathing, the changing, the calming, the wiping, the burping, the soothing, the pacing; in short, the volume. Many things were repetitiveโerging, metronomes, fireworksโbut all of those things usually ended within an hour. This could go on for years.
And when the baby slept,ย which was never,ย there was still more work to be done: laundry, bottle prep, sanitizing, mealsโplus the constant rereading of Dr. Spockโsย The Common Sense Book of Baby and Child Care.ย There was so much to do she couldnโt even make a to-do list because making a list was just one more thing to do. Plus, she still had all of her other work to do. Hastings. She glanced in worry across the room at an untouched foot-high pile of notebooks and research papers, the larger stacks work from her colleagues. When sheโd been in labor, she told Dr. Mason she didnโt want anesthesia. โItโs because Iโm a scientist,โ sheโd lied. โI want to be fully
conscious during the procedure.โ But the real reason: she couldnโt afford it.
From below came a small sigh of contentment and Elizabeth looked down surprised to find her daughter asleep. She froze, not wanting to disturb the babyโs slumber. She studied the flushed face, the pouty lips, the slim blond eyebrows.
An hour went by, and with it, all circulation in her arm. She stared in wonder as the child moved her lips, as if trying to explain.
Two more hours went by.
Get up,ย she told herself.ย Move.ย She leaned forward, gently propelling both of them out of the chair, then walked without a single misstep to the bedroom. She lay down, carefully placing the still-sleeping infant beside her. She closed her eyes. She exhaled. Then she slept heavily, dreamlessly, until the baby awoke.
Which, according to her clock, was approximately five minutes later.
โ
โThis a good time?โ Dr. Boryweitz asked at seven a.m. as she opened the door. He tipped his head and moved past her, picking his way through the war zone to the sofa.
โNo.โ
โWell, but this isnโt really work,โ he explained. โJust a quick question. Anyway, I wanted to drop by and see how itโs going. I heard you had the baby.โ He took in her unwashed hair, her misbuttoned blouse, her still-swollen abdomen. He unlatched his briefcase and took out a wrapped gift. โCongratulations,โ he said.
โYou . . you got me aโฆgift?โ โJust a small thing.โ
โDo you have children, Dr. Boryweitz?โ His eyes slid left. He didnโt reply.
She opened the box to find a plastic pacifier and a small stuffed rabbit. โThank you,โ she said, suddenly feeling glad heโd dropped by. He was the first adult sheโd talked to in weeks. โVery thoughtful.โ
โYouโre very welcome,โ he said clumsily. โI hope heโsheโenjoys it.โ โShe.โ
She as in banshee,ย Six-Thirty explained.
Boryweitz reached into his briefcase to pull out a sheaf of papers.
โI havenโt slept, Dr. Boryweitz,โ Elizabeth apologized. โThis really isnโt a good time.โ
โMiss Zott,โ Boryweitz pleaded, his eyes downcast. โIโve got a meeting with Donatti in two hours.โ He removed some bills from his wallet.ย โPlease.โ
The sight of the cash made her hesitate. She hadnโt had any income for a month.
โTen minutes,โ she said, taking the cash. โThe baby is only dozing.โ But he needed a full hour. After he left, and surprised to find the baby still
sleeping, she made her way to her lab, determined to work, but without meaning to, she slid to the floor as if it were a mattress, her head craning toward a textbook as if it were a pillow. In moments she was sound asleep.
โ
Calvin was in her dream. He was reading a book on nuclear magnetic resonance. She was readingย Madame Bovaryย aloud to Six-Thirty. Sheโd just finished telling Six-Thirty that fiction was problematic. People were always insisting they knew what it meant, even if the writer hadnโt meant that at all, and even if what they thought it meant had no actual meaning. โBovaryโs a great example,โ she said. โHere, where Emma licks her fingers? Some believe it signifies carnal lust; others think she just really liked the chicken. As for what Flaubert actually meant? No one cares.โ
At this point Calvin looked up from his book and said, โI donโt remember there being any chicken inย Madame Bovary.โ But before Elizabeth could reply, there came an insistentย tap tap tap tap tap tap,ย like an industrious woodpecker, followed by a โMiss Zott?,โ followed by moreย tap-tap-tap-tap-tap-ing, then another โMiss Zott?,โ followed by a strange little hiccuppy wail, which made Calvin jump up and run out of the room.
โ
โMissย Zott,โ the voice said again. It was louder.
Elizabeth awoke to find a large gray-haired woman in a rayon dress and thick brown socks looming in her laboratory.
โItโs me, Miss Zott. Mrs. Sloane. I peeked in and saw you slumped on the floor. I knocked and knocked but you didnโt respond, so I pushed open the door. I wanted to make sure youโre all right.ย Areย you all right? Maybe I should call a doctor.โ
โS-Sloane.โ
The woman bent down and studied Elizabethโs face. โNo, I think youโre all right. Your baby is crying. Shall I go get it? Iโll go get it.โ She left,
returning a moment later. โOh, look at it,โ she said, rocking the small bundle back and forth. โWhatโs the devilโs name?โ
โMad. M-Madeline,โ Elizabeth said as she pushed off from the floor.
โMadeline,โ Mrs. Sloane said. โA girl. Well thatโs nice. Iโve been wanting to drop by. Ever since you brought your little Satan home, Iโve told myself,ย Go by and check on her.ย But you seem to have a constant stream of visitors. In fact, I saw one leave not long ago. I didnโt want to intrude.โ
The woman held Madelineโs bottom up to her nose, took a deep sniff, then laid her on the table, and, swiping a clean diaper from the nearby drying rack, changed the writhing infant like a cowboy roping a calf. โI know it canโt be easy for you, Miss Zott, without Mr. Evans I mean. Iโm very sorry for your loss, by the way. I know itโs a bit late to say so, but better late than never. Mr. Evans was a good man.โ
โYou knewโฆCalvin?โ Elizabeth asked, still foggy. โH-How?โ
โMiss Zott,โ she said pointedly. โIโm your neighbor. Across the street?
In the little blue house?โ
โOh, oh, yes, of course,โ Elizabeth said, reddening, realizing sheโd never spoken to Mrs. Sloane before. A few waves from the driveway; that had been it. โIโm sorry, Mrs. Sloane, of course I know you. Please forgive meโIโm tired. I must have fallen asleep on the floor. I canโt believe I did that; itโs a first.โ
โWell, it wonโt be the last,โ Mrs. Sloane said, suddenly noticing that the kitchen was not really a kitchen at all. She got up and holding Madeline in the crook of one arm like a football, gave herself a tour. โYouโre a new mother and youโre all alone and youโre exhausted and you can barely think andโwhat the hell isย this?โ She pointed at a large silver object.
โA centrifuge,โ Elizabeth said. โAnd no, Iโm fine, really.โ She attempted to sit up straight.
โNo oneโs fine with a newborn, Miss Zott. The little gremlin will suck the life right out of you. Look at youโyouโve got the death row look. Let me make you some coffee.โ She started toward the stove but was stopped by the fume hood. โFor the love of god,โ she said, โwhatย the hellย happened to this kitchen?โ
โIโll make it,โ Elizabeth said. As Mrs. Sloane watched, Elizabeth drifted to the stainless-steel counter, where she picked up a jug of distilled water and poured it into a flask, plugging the flask with a stopper outfitted with a tube wriggling from its top. Next, she clipped the flask onto one of two metal stands that stood between two Bunsen burners and struck a strange metal gadget that sparked like flint striking steel. A flame appeared; the water began to heat. Reaching up to a shelf, she grabbed a sack labeled โC8H10N4O2,โ dumped some into a mortar, ground it with a pestle, overturned the resulting dirtlike substance onto a strange little scale, then dumped the scaleโs contents into a 6- x 6-inch piece of cheesecloth and tied the small bundle off. Stuffing the cheesecloth into a larger beaker, she attached it to the second metal stand, clamping the tube coming out of the first flask into the large beakerโs bottom. As the water in the flask started to bubble, Mrs. Sloane, her jaw practically on the floor, watched as the water forced its way up the tube and into the beaker. Soon the smaller flask was almost empty and Elizabeth shut off the Bunsen burner. She stirred the contents of the beaker with a glass rod. Then the brown liquid did the strangest thing: it rose up like a poltergeist and returned to the original flask.
โCream and sugar?โ Elizabeth asked as she removed the stopper from
the flask and started to pour.
โMother ofย god,โ Mrs. Sloane said as Elizabeth placed a cup of coffee in front of her. โHave you never heard of Folgerโs?โ But as soon as she took a sip she said no more. Sheโd never had coffee like this before. It was heaven. She could drink it all day.
โSo how have you found it so far?โ Mrs. Sloane asked. โMotherhood.โ Elizabeth swallowed hard.
โI see youโve got the bible,โ Mrs. Sloane said, noting Dr. Spockโs book on the table.
โI bought it for the title,โ Elizabeth admitted. โCommon Sense Book of Baby and Child Care.ย There seems to be so much nonsense about how one raises a babyโso much overcomplication.โ
Mrs. Sloane studied Elizabethโs face. A strange remark coming from a woman who just added twenty extra steps to making a cup of coffee. โFunny, isnโt it?โ Mrs. Sloane said. โA man writes a book about things of which he has absolutely no firsthand knowledgeโchildbirth and its aftermath, I meanโand yet: boom. Bestseller. My suspicion? His wife wrote the whole thing, then put his name on it. A manโs name gives it more authority, donโt you think?โ
โNo,โ Elizabeth said. โAgreed.โ
They both took another sip of coffee.
โHello there, Six-Thirty,โ she said, extending her free hand. He went to
her.
โYou know Six-Thirty?โ
โMissย Zott.ย I live just thereโacross the street! I often see him out and
about. By the way, thereโs a leash law in effectโโ
At the word โleash,โ Madeline opened her tiny mouth and let loose a bloodcurdling cry.
โOh Jesus Mary mother of god!โ Mrs. Sloane swore as she leapt up, Madeline still in her arms. โThat isย trulyย hideous, child!โ She looked into the small red face and bounced the bundle around the laboratory, her voice raised above the noise. โYears ago, when I was a new mother, Mr. Sloane was away on business and a horrible man broke into the house and said if I didnโt give him all our money, heโd take the baby. I hadnโt slept or showered in four days, hadnโt combed my hair for at least a week, hadnโt sat down in I donโt know how long. So I said, โYou want the baby? Here.โ โ She shifted Madeline to the other arm. โNever seen a grown man run so fast.โ She glanced around the room uncertainly. โDo you have some fancy way of fixing a bottle too, or can I make it like normal?โ
โIโve got one ready,โ Elizabeth said, retrieving a bottle from a small pan of warm water.
โNewborns are horrible,โ Mrs. Sloane said, clutching at the fake pearls around her neck as Elizabeth took Madeline from her. โI thought you had
some help; otherwise I would have come earlier. Youโve had so many, well, so manyย menย dropping by at the oddest hours.โ She cleared her throat.
โItโs work,โ Elizabeth said as she coaxed Madeline to take the bottle. โWhatever you want to call it,โ Mrs. Sloane said.
โIโm a scientist,โ Elizabeth said.
โI thought Mr. Evans was the scientist.โ โIโm one, too.โ
โOf course, you are.โ She clapped her hands together. โAll right, then. Iโll get going. But now you knowโwhenever you need a spare pair of hands, Iโm across the street.โ She wrote her phone number in thick pencil directly on the kitchen wall just above the phone. โMr. Sloane retired last year and heโs at home all the time now, so donโt think youโll be interrupting anything because you wonโt; in fact, youโll be doing me a favor. Understood?โ She bent down to retrieve something from her shopping bag. โIโll just leave this here,โ she said, removing a foil-wrapped casserole. โIโm not saying itโs good, but you need to eat.โ
โMrs. Sloane,โ Elizabeth said, realizing she did not want to be alone. โYou seem to know a lot about babies.โ
โAs much as anyone can ever know,โ she agreed. โTheyโre selfish little sadists. The question is, why anyone has more than one.โ
โHow many did you have?โ
โFour. What are you trying to say, Miss Zott? Are you worried about something in particular?โ
โWell,โ Elizabeth said, trying to keep her voice from wavering, โitโsโฆ itโs just thatโฆโ
โJust say it,โ Sloane instructed. โBoom. Out.โ
โIโm a terrible mother,โ she said in a rush. โItโs not just the way you found me asleep on the job, itโs many thingsโor rather, everything.โ
โBe more specific.โ
โWell, for instance, Dr. Spock says Iโm supposed to put her on a schedule, so I made one, but she wonโt follow it.โ
Harriet Sloane snorted.
โAnd Iโm not having any of those moments youโre supposed to haveโ you know, the momentsโโ
โI donโtโโ
โThe blissful momentsโโ
โWomenโs magazine rot,โ Sloane interrupted. โYou need to steer clear of that stuff. Itโs complete fiction.โ
โBut the feelings Iโm havingโIโฆI donโt think theyโre normal. I never wanted to have children,โ she said, โand now I have one and Iโm ashamed to say Iโve been ready to give her away at least twice now.โ
Mrs. Sloane stopped at the back door.
โPlease,โ Elizabeth begged. โDonโt think badly of meโโ
โWait,โ Sloane said, as if sheโd misheard. โYouโve wanted to give her awayโฆtwice?โ Then she shook her head and laughed in a way that made Elizabeth shrink.
โItโs not funny.โ
โTwice? Really? Twenty times would still make you an amateur.โ Elizabeth looked away.
โHells bells,โ huffed Mrs. Sloane sympathetically. โYouโre in the midst of the toughest job in the world. Did your mother never tell you?โ
And at the mention of her mother, Sloane noticed the young womanโs shoulders tense.
โOkay,โ she said in a softer tone. โNever mind. Just try not to worry so much. Youโre doing fine, Miss Zott. Itโll get better.โ
โWhat if it doesnโt?โ Elizabeth said desperately. โWhat ifโฆwhat if it gets worse?โ
Although she wasnโt the type to touch people, Mrs. Sloane found herself leaving the sanctuary of the door to press down lightly on the young womanโs shoulders. โIt gets better,โ she said. โWhatโs your name, Miss Zott?โ
โElizabeth.โ
Mrs. Sloane lifted her hands. โWell, Elizabeth, Iโm Harriet.โ
And then there was an awkward silence, as if by sharing their names, theyโd each revealed more than theyโd planned.
โBefore I go, Elizabeth, can I offer just one bit of advice?โ Harriet began. โActually no, I wonโt. I hate getting advice, especially unsolicited advice.โ She turned a ruddy color. โDo you hate advice givers? I do. They have a way of making one feel inadequate. And the advice is usually lousy.โ
โGo on,โ Elizabeth urged.
Harriet hesitated, then pursed her lips side to side. โWell, fine. Maybe itโs not really advice anyway. Itโs more like a tip.โ
Elizabeth looked back expectantly.
โTake a moment for yourself,โ Harriet said. โEvery day.โ โA moment.โ
โA moment whereย youย are your own priority. Just you. Not your baby, not your work, not your dead Mr. Evans, not your filthy house, not anything. Just you. Elizabeth Zott. Whatever you need, whatever you want, whatever you seek, reconnect with it in that moment.โ She gave a sharp tug to her fake pearls. โThen recommit.โ
And although Harriet didnโt mention sheโd never followed this advice herselfโthat sheโd actually only read it in one of those ridiculous womenโs magazinesโshe wanted to believe that someday she would recommit to her goal. To be in love.ย Realย love. Then she opened the back door and gave a small nod and pulled the door closed behind her. And as if on cue, Madeline began to cry.