“You’re not swaddling tight enough,” I tell Hattie.
Nurse Pearce, a round black woman with ringlet curls, pops her head over Hattie’s shoulder. The deep circles beneath her eyes scream overworked, but her chipper voice sings, “She’s right!”
Hattie growls and narrows her eyes at me.
“You’re the one who asked me to be here,” I remind her.
She shakes the baby doll free of the blanket and it makes a clunk sound when it lands on the changing table.
“Tyler is the one who should have come,” I say. We’re only a few days into the new year and he’s already proved that he’s the same shitty baby daddy he was last year. “I mean, if we suck at this, imagine how bad he’ll be.” But it’s not just that. This creeping anxiety spreads through my veins, reminding me of my impending fate. If Tyler can’t be here for Hattie now, what else won’t he be here for? It’s like being at school and doing a fire drill and seeing how horribly unorganized the teachers actually are and how little your peers are paying attention. Sure, it’s only a drill, but someday the real thing will happen. For Hattie, that day is coming sooner rather than later.
“At least he’s working.” Her voice is tired, which makes me think maybe she’s not as clueless about all this as she’s been letting on. Part of me wants to see her get it over with and call it off with Tyler. But then I’m holding out hope that he isn’t the person my heart and head say he is.
I take the blanket from her and smooth it on the counter in front of us. “Okay, let’s do this shit.”
The pregnant woman behind Hattie glares at me as her husband in his slacks, dress shirt, and tie checks the time on his chunky silver watch.
“The baby can’t actually hear you,” I say under my breath.
Before we can finish reswaddling the doll, Nurse Pearce says, “Let’s talk labor relief positions, people. Take a seat on the mat with your partner.”
Hattie tosses the half-swaddled baby doll on the table. “My feet are killing me.”
She sits down slowly on the blue gym mats at the center of the room, balancing on one knee at a time. A few months ago, I would have described my sister’s body as a spring. You could press her down for a moment, but the minute she felt the pressure ease, she would bounce back to life.
I sit down behind her like Nurse Pearce instructs the class to do.
“Ladies,” she says, “relax. Ease into your partner. Trust them to support you.”
I remember sitting like this with Grace in her bedroom, behind closed doors. She would never quite rest the full weight of her body against mine, like she was scared I couldn’t hold the two of us up at once. But Hattie’s body sinks against me and she doesn’t hold back. I brace my hands on the ground on either side of my hips so that I can more easily support us both.
Hattie drops her head against my chest. “Oh God,” she says. “You wanna know what would feel good right now? A bath.”
The stopper on our bathtub drain has been broken since we were too old to take baths together anymore. Or maybe we stopped taking baths together because the stopper was broken. Either way, it wasn’t anything I ever really missed.
“Baths are kind of gross if you think about it,” I say. “You’re just sitting in water full of dirt and dead skin.”
“Well, thanks for ruining that for me.”
“Now,” says Nurse Pearce. “Repeat after me: five-one-one.”
The entire class does as she says.
She holds up five fingers. “Contractions five minutes apart lasting one minute long for at least one hour. That’s when it’s time to call the doctor.”
I commit it to memory. Five-one-one.
As Nurse Pearce circles the room, discussing breathing techniques with individual couples, Hattie says, “I think I want a Mardi Gras–themed shower.”
“Okay?”
“That was a hint.”
“Right.” I nod. Oh God. I don’t even know where to begin. “Well, I mean I was already working on your shower,” I lie. “But, ya know, it’s supposed to be a secret and all.”
She laughs dryly. “Liar.”
“Yeah, you’re right.”
“Maybe Mom will help you.”
“Yeah,” I say. “Not gonna happen.”
“You know all that anger takes a lot of energy.”
“You don’t like her either,” I remind her.
“No,” she says, “but I love her.” She rubs her belly. “Ruthie and Saul will help you.”
“This is going to be the gayest baby shower of all time,” I tell her.
“Perfect.”
Later that afternoon, Freddie picks me up in Agnes’s Cadillac. He gets one free car wash at work every week, so Agnes has taken advantage of that.
“Thanks for coming with me,” Freddie says as the car rolls over the rocky terrain of the trailer park.
“Well, it was either this or homework,” I tell him.
As he turns onto the street, he holds out a hand for me to take. I realize I’ve never held someone’s hand in the car like this. A small, minuscule thing that somehow makes me feel like we’re an actual couple.
As we pull up to Scrub-a-Dub, Adam points us to the entrance like he’s directing an airplane on a runway.
Freddie rolls down the window. “Son, I need to speak to your manager.”
“I run this bitch!” shouts Adam.
Cindy, Adam’s mom, swings open the door to the office and gives Adam a Look with a capital L.
“I have an itch,” he shouts.
“Nice cover!” I call.
He nods and gives us the thumbs-up.
The car wash is the kind where you don’t get out of your vehicle, so Freddie directs the car onto the tracks as an attendant sprays down the grille and the windshield.
As we roll into the garage, water sprays at us from both sides and multicolored soap spits out onto the windows, shielding us from any natural light.
“Whoa,” I say. “Got pretty dark.”
“I actually love it,” says Freddie. “I wish my job was to drive the cars through the wash instead of dancing outside with a giant sign. You know Adam’s mom is ordering a rubber ducky costume?”
“Oh man, I gotta see that.”
“Well, it’s on back order. I’m hoping it doesn’t arrive until after graduation.”
I feel my lips slipping into a frown at the mention of graduation. Our days are numbered.
“I decided I’m still going to LSU,” he says. “It’s where I’ve always wanted to go. And I heard Viv changed her plans and decided on Florida. So no chance of running into her at least.” He notices then that this is not a subject I have much to add to. “But forget that. I have a question.”
I swallow. “Okay.”
“I don’t want you to get freaked out.”
“Well, that freaks me out a little.” I laugh nervously.
He takes both my hands in his. “I know you may not be ready to label yourself, and . . . that’s been hard for me to understand, but I’m okay with it.”
“Okay . . .”
“But I was wondering if you would be interested in labeling us?”
I inhale sharply. “What do you mean?” Even though I know exactly what he means.
“Will you be my girlfriend?”
Another round of rainbow soap splashes across the windows. “I—do we . . .” I’ve played the role of girlfriend before. That’s nothing new for me. My brow furrows for a moment as I turn this over in my head. I know I’m ready to take this relationship further . . . in a physical way. And it doesn’t make sense for me not to make this commitment too. It’s not a label that means much to me. If fact, thinking back to Grace and Andrew, it’s a label I once loathed. But it means something to Freddie, and for that reason, I say, “Yes.”
His face lights up with a stupid grin as he leans over the center console and kisses me in the dark car under a kaleidoscope of soap and bubbles, and I think everyone should make out in a car wash at least once. The car rocks gently against the brushes and the dryer until the employee guarding the end of the wash is whistling at us and waving us on to the exit.