Page 126 of Salty Pickle

Then people filter in again. It’s time to clean the baby, they say, get him checked out.

The nurse takes the baby and swaddles him in a blanket.

Lucy’s parents go to watch. We haven’t officially met yet, but they seem to understand who I am.

Lucy gets cleaned up. I stay close to her face, my head pressed to hers. “You okay?” I whisper.

“More than okay,” she says.

Finally, we’re alone again.

“Can you get me some water?” she asks.

I head to the sink to fill a cup. I spot a roll of white gauze. I pick it up. There’s something I have to do. It should be today.

I twist a strip of the narrow gauze and tie it around the end of my finger. I tuck it in on itself and pull it off, then continue wrapping more gauze around the circle until it’s sturdy. I palm it as I return to her.

I pass her the water. She sips it. Sounds filter in from elsewhere in the hospital.

Any minute, her parents will return. The baby will return. The next stage will begin.

I take her hand and slide the gauze ring onto her left hand.

“What’s this?” Her head tilts.

“Lucy, let’s not waste any more time on the wrong path. Let’s choose each other. Choose this family. Together. Will you marry me?”

She looks up at me, tears spilling down her face. “Okay,” she says. “I choose you. You and Julian.”

“And Matilda.”

She laughs. “And Matilda.”

“And her goat baby.”

She laughs harder and presses on her belly. “And her baby.”

I pull her into my embrace. We hold onto each other like survivors of a storm.

It feels right having her in my arms again. Like family. Like home. I have no idea what the future looks like. Where it will be. How we will shape it.

But I know it will be with her.

The door opens.

“Baby is back!” the nurse says, pushing the rolling bassinet next to the bed. Lucy’s parents follow, videoing everything with their phones.

I help Lucy sit up. She takes the baby. So many photos are taken. I remember to take some, too.

Then he’s passed to me. I don’t know where to put my hands or my elbows, but the nurse arranges my arms.

He rests against my chest, nothing but a tight blanket, a hat, and a tiny face. His lips push together, and his eyebrows shift. I think he’s going to cry, but then he relaxes again. It must be hard, having your entire world change.

I know how he feels.

I don’t know how long I stand there, staring at him, but eventually, I look up. Everyone is watching me.

My first urge is to tell them to knock it off, to force their attention away.

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