Watch for Falling Rocks
Amanda’s maternity leave, when it came, would amount to a measly six weeks’ not the two year “sabbatical” of her dreams. This despite her high pay and (otherwise) excellent benefits. How spoiled she was! Her childcare options, everyone kept assuring her, were among the best in the US.
Still, when Evie and DeeDee were born, she was a college student, whose graduate-student husband enjoyed plentiful support from his renowned parents. Freddie, in contrast, hadn’t produced a pay-check in months. Amanda foresaw him being fired every time he showed up at the hotel.
From gambling debts, drinking, and drugs, he swung from bad to worse to better to practically fine. So far, his rhythmic arcs had not collided with any unfixable screw-up.
[Click here to read the first episode, or here to read the previous one.]
“You swear you’ve still got your job?” Amanda would ask.
“Yes, indeedy! I’m still the hotel’s one and only manager.”
Say what you will, Amanda thought: the days when Freddie drank freely in the hotel bar or retreated to his office and played online poker had ended before their wedding. Why hadn’t she noticed? Because, basically, the pain admitting this never let up; she’d married Freddie to defy Walter. Petulant, angry Amanda sure had shown Walter! Was he sorry? Or had he written her off as too stupid and reckless to recognize?
Except that wasn’t Walter. Father, lover, beside her or estranged, Walter loved Amanda. He had always loved her. That’s what he’d said. And please, God, let that not be a dream. Her internal voice kept begging: let Walter’s unclassified love be real.
At three a.m., on September 26th, she gave birth to her son, James Fredrick Berger. Freddie happened to be home when she went into labor. He started struggling with her until she yelled, “Hey!”
“Oh right. No time to fight.” They took a taxi.
While Amanda concentrated on a splotch on the cab’s window, Freddie hummed, “Toodle-toodle-dee,” and managed to call Mike so he could take care of his daughters. Evie and DeeDee’s father was always sober, barring Amanda’s last wedding day.
Charming the nurses with his grin and his light, wobbly footwork, Freddie came across as a calm yet ecstatic new father. But then Freddie acted either ecstatic or mean no matter what. Apparently no one had yet pegged him as Amanda did. When the doctor handed the baby to Freddie, she had to turn her head, eyes shut.
“Give him to me,” she pleaded. “He’s screaming because he’s hungry.”
Later, when Evie and DeeDee visited (and Freddie was supposedly back at work), Evie gave Amanda a square box from Tiffanys. “Walter sent it to Dad’s address. He says, congratulations, Mom.”
A nurse stepped in and tsked, checking Amanda’s sheet. “You’ll probably stay overnight, honey. You’ll need that IV.”
Telling the girls their mom was fine, the nurse lifted James from the bassinette and handed him to Evie.
Walter’s gift was a strand of pearls, each the size of small tapioca. Seeing it, Evie transferred James into DeeDee’s arms. “Let me do the clasp.” The necklace came to Amanda’s clavicle. Her daughters oohed and even the nurse said, “Wow. Somebody’s sure glad you had this baby boy.”
After Mike had visited and taken the girls back to his place, Amanda inched slowly off the bed to retrieve her baby. James nursed well, even if she wouldn’t produce milk for a day or two. After a while he fell asleep, and her doctor entered the room.
Her cell phone across the room blinked and by the time the nurse reached it the caller had hung up. But Walter had left voice mail. How was she? Wasn’t today her due date?
Hearing his voice switched on her tears. When she heard him for real, the tears spurted faster. She choked and sighed to find control. “Walter. The pearls, thank you!”
“Are you okay, honey? Amanda. Tell me the truth.”
“I have a son. Curly hair, eight pounds.” The tears poured forth and her voice faltered, even as Walter, just being there with her on the phone, filled her with all his uncommon love.
“Amanda. Don’t let me push you or intrude.”
She held the phone at a distance so he wouldn’t pick up every sob.
“Amanda!”
“I’m okay, Walter. It’s hormones.”
(Click here to read the next episode.)
The Declaration of the Democratic Worldview, by Hank Edson
