Page 64 of Brood
* * *
I have no idea how many minutes pass before I wake up again. It can’t be very long because we’re still in the same position. Will has his arms around me, holding me against him.
Some sort of noise wakes me up, so I lift my head and roll over automatically, reaching my arms out even before I manage to get my eyes open. “Hi, Bun.”
“Here,” Will says, moving me gently so he can adjust us closer to a sitting position. “Get more comfortable before you take him.”
I do as he says because he says it, trying to heft my body so I’m not flat on my back. He draws me toward him, letting me recline against him, secured by the curve of his arm. Then the nursery worker hands Bun over to me.
It’s the nursery worker named Vera. I’ve never liked her. She’s only in her mid-twenties, but she has a hard, sharp, disapproving aura that’s always grated on me. She’s got light-brown hair that’s pulled back tightly into an icy-smooth french braid. “You’ll do better if you get out of the bed and sit in a chair.”
Resentment bubbles up from my chest to my throat, but I bite it back before I say anything. I start to climb out, but Will stops me. “You do fine feeding him in bed. There’s no reason to make yourself uncomfortable.” He sounds as annoyed as I feel, although he’s obviously trying to hide it.
I stay in bed and reach for Bun again, and this time Vera hands him over. I exhale in relief as I cuddle him against me, smiling down at him when he babbles fussily. He’s hungry. He’s always in a good mood unless he needs to eat.
Only two buttons on my shirt are fastened, so I undo them quickly to free one breast. I get him into position so he can latch onto the nipple and start sucking. He does it so greedily that a little milk sprays out from his mouth.
I wish Vera would go away. Holly, the other daytime nursery worker, always leaves while I feed him. But Vera never does. She sits on the edge of Will’s bed and watches as I nurse Bun.
I want to talk to him. Stroke his smooth head and soft face. But I can’t show him that much affection in front of Vera.
She’ll report it. And the brewing suspicions over my and Will’s behavior will deepen.
Bun likes to eat a lot, so I switch him to my other breast after a while. I don’t rush the process. No matter how tired I am, these are the best parts of my days. It would be different if they’d let him sleep in here with us, but they won’t. Will asked the very first day and then again last week, and the answer both times was a firm no.
Babies stay in the nursery. Always. Asking to move Bun at all was a huge risk, and asking any more would put Will in real danger.
It’s not right. Everything inside me rebels against the way they keep taking him away.
Finally, when Bun gives a little cough and spits up some milk, I wipe his face with my shirttail and reposition him so I can pat his back.
Vera is suddenly there. Right next to the bed. Leaning over and reaching for him.
“No, he’s not done yet.” I’m immediately upset. Too upset to guard my words.
“He’s had plenty.”
“But he needs to burp.”
“I can burp him.” She’s got her hands on him now, pulling him out of my arms.
I whimper and struggle against the instinct to resist. “But he’s better with me.”
“He’s better in the nursery where he belongs. Your job is to feed him. My job is to take care of him.”
I’m almost in tears despite my attempts to force them down. It’s an affront against my very nature. That this terrible person keeps taking my baby away from me. I make a gurgling sound and reach out for him.
“For fuck’s sake,” Will growls. He’s been silent and stewing—at Vera’s presence, I know—but something now snaps inside him. “You have no right to?—”
“Will, don’t.” In a sudden panic, I grab for his arm before he can stand. I know exactly what he’s about to do. He’ll get to his feet. Use his size to intimidate Vera and take Bun back. It’s exactly what I want to happen, but itcan’t.
It can’t happen.
The tenuous stability we’ve been maintaining for the past few months would completely topple, and both of us—particularly Will—would pay the price.
“Don’t,” I mumble brokenly, clinging to him so he can’t stand. “You promised. Please don’t.”
To someone else, his expression would probably appear as stoic as normal, but I can see the tense battle being fought inside him as his eyes shoot between me and Vera.
