The Figgs, page 3
Without another thought, she turned to look at Marissa and came face to face with the baby. A little face with pebble-sized features and the hair of an orangutan. The orangest hair she’d ever seen. The smallest ears. Tiny treble clefs. The rest of the baby’s body still shrink-wrapped inside Marissa.
“Oh my gosh,” she whispered. “Derek, honey, look. That’s your baby.” But Derek was on all fours crawling to the bathroom, where Randy was waiting for the delivery to be over. The retching started immediately. Like an idling Mac truck. And distracting. June spun around. “Can’t you be a little quieter?”
But Derek continued, and when she turned back around, Marissa was empty. There was silence for one second, two. Then as though it had been orchestrated, Derek and his offspring commenced a duet. He on the stomach tuba, the baby on a tiny broken reed.
“It’s a boy,” the doctor announced.
“I’m a grandpa!” Randy shouted from the bathroom.
June looked at Marissa, who was sobbing, alone, as nurses attended to the baby on a nearby table. She approached the bedside and took hold of Marissa’s hands. Her trembling hands, and for a moment June thought about her own birth mother. Had her hands also trembled? Had she, too, given birth alone, her church shoes all scratched up and toppled under the bed, while her father was back in the suburbs building a bicycle ramp?
“You did it,” June said, exhaling hard and squeezing Marissa’s hands. “Like a pro.”
Derek groaned from the bathroom, while Randy ruffled his son’s hair. June took a Kleenex from her purse, a soft one with lotion, and handed it to Marissa. Marissa wiped her eyes, while the baby screamed on the table, fists suspended in the air. Derek attempted to stand. He was on one knee, hanging onto the bathroom doorknob. June motioned for Randy to wait outside. He obliged, sidestepping with his back to Marissa while the placenta slipped out, completing the birth.
“Sit down, Derek.” June turned the room’s only chair to face the bed.
He stumbled over and fell heavily into the moss-green vinyl cushion.
“Six pounds, eight ounces.” The nurse wrote on a chart. She picked the infant up, swaddled him into a tidy bundle and handed him to Marissa. “Here you go, Mom. He’s a beauty.”
June stood beside Derek and watched Marissa, who held the baby awkwardly up by her shoulder. Marissa wept quietly and mouthed the word mom as she stared at the little face.
“Can I hold him?” Derek asked, and for a second June was ready to answer. She was the mom. It was her permission Derek normally sought.
“Go ahead,” Marissa replied.
Derek stood up and reached for the baby, his arms long and veiny, and then he carefully sat back down in the chair, cradling the baby’s head like it was a glass ornament. “He’s so small.”
“He has your red hair,” June said. “My hair.”
“Can I come in?” Randy called politely from the hall.
Again, June held her tongue. Marissa, blanketed from the waist down, nodded.
“Yes,” June replied.
Randy rushed into the room and stared at his grandson.
“Marissa, he’s perfect!” Randy said.
“Perfect?” she repeated.
“One hundred percent.”
One hundred percent, June considered. An elephant’s faith according to Dr. Seuss. Perfect. But it wasn’t perfect. Derek and Marissa weren’t even in a relationship. He worked in a bottle depot. Marissa was someone else’s daughter. Another grandma would dispense advice, and maybe it would be wrong and her grandson would end up with a flat head or rotten teeth. Or maybe he, too, would be chosen.
When Marissa decided to breastfeed, Derek saw his parents out.
“We’ll be in the cafeteria,” Randy said.
June gave Derek a Gravol as a porter wheeled a patient into the room across the hall.
When they reached the elevators, Randy and June stood for a minute before either thought to press the button.
“I can’t believe it.” Randy stared into space. “Our son has a son.”
“I know,” June held her face. “It’s almost unreal.”
“Except he looks just like Derek.”
“Exactly like him.”
Randy looked worried. “Do you think they’ll raise him together?”
“I don’t know.” The elevator opened. “I don’t know anything.”
Randy took her hand, and it helped her breathe. They went in silence to the ground floor of the hospital, passing sad-eyed people on stretchers and clumps of families wielding foil balloons. The cafeteria smelled like fries and disinfectant.
Randy looked around. “Do you see the kids?”
June saw Leslie’s platinum blond hair lit by a sunbeam. “By the window,” she pointed.
Randy brightened and hurried to the table. “It’s a boy!”
“I can’t believe he has a kid,” Vanessa said. She was halfway through a plate of pasta. A piece of wet penne dropped from her mouth to the floor. Next to her, Leslie ate orange Jell-O with a plastic spoon.
“Jell-O,” Randy said. “I haven’t had Jell-O since Tom had his wisdom teeth out. I’m going to get some.”
“Does the baby have a name?” Tom flapped his shirt to air out his armpits.
“No,” June replied. “At least, I don’t think so. Randy, does he have a name?”
“Not yet.” Randy pulled a twenty-dollar bill from his wallet. “Do you want anything?”
“A salad, please.” She turned to Vanessa. “He has red hair.”
Tom called after his father. “Can you grab me a slice of pizza?”
June unzipped her purse and pulled out a bottle of water. She wondered if Marissa was going to let Derek have any part in naming the baby. She hoped he would have a normal name. Nothing too trendy, like Jayden or Braden or Caden.
“Will Derek have the baby on weekends?” Vanessa asked.
“What do you mean?”
“Like visitation rights,” Tom explained.
“They’re not divorced.”
“You know what I mean. Is he going to get to see the baby?”
“I hope so.”
Randy returned with a tray of food.
“Do you think we can go see him?” Vanessa pushed her empty plate to the side and placed her hand on top of Leslie’s. Leslie had taken off her plaid shirt, revealing a sleeve of faded Celtic tattoos. Vanessa traced a harp with her fingertip.
June stared. Vanessa had always been single. In front of her was a couple.
“Why don’t you text him?” Randy wrestled a blob of Jell-O into his mouth.
Vanessa squeezed Leslie’s hand and then pulled out her iPhone. The case had a picture of a cat wearing a dress and bonnet. Her daughter tapped away at the phone’s surface. Seconds later, it pinged.
“He says we can see him, but it has to be quick because the nurse wants Marissa to rest.”
Randy said, “Ask him if the baby has a name.”
Vanessa obliged. The table waited in silence for the reply. Vanessa slid her phone into the middle for everyone to see. For thirty seconds, nothing. Then a pale grey speech bubble appeared around an ellipsis. And then the name: Jazz.
“Jazz?” June questioned.
But another speech bubble appeared. Not Jazz. Jaxx.
“Jaxx?” Randy said.
“With two x’s?”
“J-A-X-X,” Vanessa read aloud.
“Why not just one x?”
“I like it.” Tom drizzled salad dressing on his pizza crust. “Sounds like a porn star.”
June frowned.
“That Jell-O was better than I remembered.”
“Let’s just go,” June said. “Before it’s too late.”
“But you’ve barely touched your food.”
“I’m not hungry. Are you coming?”
Randy cleared the table. “Why don’t I stay with Leslie and you three go.”
“Fine. You can get the van.”
June led her kids to the elevator. It was empty.
“How big is he?” Vanessa stooped to see her reflection in the elevator’s mirrored panel.
“He’s little. Six pounds. And he has the tiniest features. The reddest hair,” she said, watching Vanessa preen. She noticed that her daughter was wearing blush. Vanessa usually wore makeup with colours called “black mould” or “anthrax.” The swath of pink was refreshing. “You know, that really lightens your face.”
Vanessa reddened and adjusted the ears on her headband. “Leslie gave it to me.”
“It’s pretty.” It had been a while since June used the word pretty in association with her daughter. “You and Leslie seem very close.”
“Maybe.” Vanessa was coy, but her happiness was palpable. As if Santa’s workshop was operating inside her chest.
Tom read his phone. “Shit,” he said. “I missed a delivery.”
“Go-Kleen!” Vanessa said, mimicking the Go-Kleen infomercial.
“No, something else.” He swore.
The elevator opened, and June led Vanessa and Tom down the hall to room 316. The door was ajar.
“It’s just us,” June whispered. “Mom and Tom and Vanessa.” She could see Derek rummaging through a bag. He held up a diaper shirt covered in sailboats.
“This one?” he asked Marissa.
Marissa replied, “Sure, whatever.”
Derek waved them in.
“Marissa, this is my sister, Vanessa, and my brother, Tom.”
Marissa and Vanessa looked at each other with vague familiarity. Tom fondled a bag hanging from Marissa’s IV pole.
“And this is Jaxx.” Derek pushed the plastic bassinette toward his sister like it was a room-service cart. Vanessa bent down to stare at her nephew, and she did something that surprised everyone in the room. She cried.
When they returned from the hospital, June flopped on the couch, unable to face the basement.
Tom stood in the fridge and ate leftovers. He’d changed into a new work shirt. “Can I take the van tonight? It’s a new client. Got to bring the shop-vac.” He wiped coleslaw from his chin. “It won’t fit in the car.”
“You can, or I’m sure your dad will drive you. Weren’t you supposed to be getting yours back today?”
He shook his head. “Still waiting for a part. They had to order it in from Florida.”
June forced herself up and finally removed her coat. “Your father’s downstairs. Give him a heads up.”
Tom nodded, closed the fridge door, and drifted away. Outside, Vanessa said goodbye to Leslie. June watched them from the window. They leaned in at precisely the same time to kiss. Then they hugged, and it was the kind of hug June would have wanted to clap and cheer for, if it hadn’t been between Vanessa and a woman old enough to be her mother.
“I’d say they’re more than friends.” Randy rested his chin on her shoulder. He smelled like yogurt.
“Looks that way.” June turned from the window and went back to the kitchen.
Growing up, Vanessa had shown no interest in boys or girls. She spent her time raising money for no-kill shelters and holding funerals for roadkill in the front yard. Her only crush had been on the SeaWorld mascot.
“It’s good, right?” Randy tossed the yogurt cup and pulled himself up on the counter, his back hunched into the letter C. The overhead track light illuminated the wool hairs on his socks.
“I mean, yeah. It’s great that she seems to finally be in a relationship with someone, but why does Leslie have to be so old? Why couldn’t Vanessa have found a young, energetic lesbian? Like that nice Ashley who teaches kickboxing down at the community centre, or the produce manager at Sobeys.”
“I don’t think it’s that big of a deal.” Randy opened the fridge. “I’m just happy she’s not alone. Remember her prom?”
June put her hand up. “Don’t talk about the prom.” She wiped crumbs from the counter. “I just always pictured Vanessa with a really nice, bright man. Like an activist. You know? Someone like Don Cheadle.”
“Don Cheadle? You mean with a man.”
“Yes, I mean a man. But also a man like Don Cheadle. Or the guy who does the six o’clock news and organizes all those charity runs for animals.”
“Brent Barry? Geez, I think he’s gay.” Randy slid off the counter. “I’m just happy Leslie isn’t a stuffie. Remember Vanessa wanted to marry Ralph the elephant?”
“He was a rhinoceros, yes. And Brent Barry isn’t gay.”
“Ralph was a rhinoceros?” Randy put his arm around her. “I like Leslie.”
June freed herself to put away the can opener. “You should have seen Vanessa when she saw Jaxx. She actually cried. Real tears. When’s the last time you saw Vanessa cry?”
“Babies have that effect on people. How could you not look at a newborn and be in total awe? Did you see how tiny his fingernails were? And his feet?” Randy cupped his hands together like he was holding a wounded bird. “It really takes a miracle — the timing, the conditions — everything. I mean everything has to align perfectly.”
June sighed. He was right. She thought of Jaxx’s heaving chest and his waxy wrinkled lips. His string-bean fingers. She smiled. It was probably exactly what Vanessa felt when she looked upon her nephew. That he was a miracle. June tried not to think of the perfect conditions that led to his creation — the slant of the depot’s counting table, the angle of Derek’s bare white hips, the arch of Marissa’s back. “You think Vanessa will ever want kids?”
“I don’t know.” Randy paced. “Haven’t ever really thought about it.”
The back door opened. Vanessa barged through and dumped her jacket in the entryway. “Mom, you parked in the hedge again.”
“I did not,” June said.
“I pretty much had to crawl over the hood.”
Randy placed a head on his daughter’s shoulder. “Hello, Aunt Vanessa.”
Vanessa went to Jerry’s cage. “If I ever get to see him.”
Randy frowned. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
Jerry danced on his trapeze.
“Dad, they’re not even together. You really think we’re going to get to see him?” June wondered if this was why Vanessa had cried at the hospital. Maybe it was true. They’d all be shut out and Jaxx would have his own family. Marissa’s family.
“Do you know Marissa?” June asked. “At the hospital, you seemed to know her.”
“Not really. Asian Marissa was in my chemistry class. All I know about Baby-Mama Marissa is that she used to work at Carpet One.”
Randy changed the subject. “Is Brent Barry gay?”
“The news guy? Does all those marathons and wears those stupid motivational headbands? No.”
“Huh.” Randy crossed his arms.
June poured herself a drink. “Told you he wasn’t gay.”
Vanessa ate a handful of peanuts. “Fuck, no.” She flicked open the latch on Jerry’s cage. Her fingernails were painted purple. “As for Marissa, I’ve met her a few times. Carpet One donates their scraps to Petland. We use them to line the rabbit cages and some of the cat enclosures at work.” Jerry climbed onto her shoulder. Vanessa pursed her lips. A tiny whistle escaped. Faint but harmonic. A hobbit’s kettle.
“But Derek’s the father.” Randy reasoned. “Of course we’ll see him. Fathers have rights…right?”
“Not if they’re not married.” Vanessa took another handful of peanuts. Jerry puffed his back feathers and pecked at the string of hardware in her ear. He seemed to be turning the tiny ship’s wheel at the bottom of her lobe.
“I don’t think they have to be married,” June offered. “I think his name just has to appear on the birth certificate.”
“Well, did he do that?” Randy touched his pockets for his phone.
Vanessa petted Jerry’s head. “Dad, chill. He was only born an hour ago. Anyway, if you haven’t already figured it out, Leslie and I are together. I thought you guys should know so it doesn’t get all weird and shit.”
“It’s not weird.” Randy put on his coat. “She seems very nice, and hello, she’s a carpenter.”
“I knew you’d like that.” Vanessa kissed Jerry’s beak and transferred the bird onto her finger.
“What’s weird is that your mother thought you’d want to marry Don Cheadle.”
“I said someone like him,” June corrected.
“Don Cheadle? He’s, like, fifty.”
“And how old’s Leslie?” June slipped a piece of lettuce into Jerry’s cage.
“Tom, let’s go!” Randy hollered.
Vanessa didn’t respond. She ushered Jerry back onto his dowel trapeze. “I’m goin’ upstairs.”
“Wait.” Randy followed. “Do you think Leslie would help me make a cradle for Jaxx? I haven’t made one in years.”
“Maybe.” Vanessa pulled her phone out and proceeded up the stairs with less stomping than normal.
“Thomas!” Randy yelled. “Let’s go.”
June flinched. “You’re driving him, then?”
Tom appeared from the hall, shop-vac in tow.
Randy struggled to slip into his shoes. They were still tied. “Yes, and then I’m going back to the hospital.”
“What for?”
“To make sure Derek puts his name on the birth certificate.”
Tom kissed June on the cheek. “Bye, Mom.”
“Have a good shift,” she said, following him through the back door with the shop-vac cord.
June watched them get into the van, Randy’s feet still not completely in his shoes, and then she slumped back onto the couch. She thought about Vanessa and Leslie. Up until now the word lesbian was just a word with a lot of curves that got stuck in her throat. June repeated it in her head so many times it became other words — thespian, amphibian, librarian. She thought of that hug. Their kiss. How their fingers linked into a fat baseball and the way their forearms touched. Now the word had meaning. Now it had life. Vanessa Joy Figg, Lesbian. To go with Derek Arnold Figg, Father.
Someone had already made coffee when June got up the next morning. She poured herself a cup and tied her robe. Randy called from the living room, “Honey, come check this out.”
June yawned and went to Randy. He was sitting in a faded green sandbox shaped like a turtle, and dressed in his woodworking clothes.
