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The smile fell off her face.
“Ethan?” Sadie said carefully. “Honey. What’s happened?”
My MIL’s free hand drifted, almost without her noticing, to the outside of her purse. Her fingers pressed there as if she were checking for something.
Her strange movements somehow took me back to a memory.
I thought of the baby shower three weeks ago.
“What’s happened?”
***
My MIL had been sitting in the corner going through her purse when I walked over to thank her politely for coming.
There had been an old envelope in her hand. She had folded it shut so quickly that I’d almost missed it.
“Just an old thing from my past,” she’d said, laughing lightly. “You know, old woman, clutter.”
I hadn’t pressed. Ethan didn’t like questions about the past.
She had folded it shut so quickly.
My husband had never shown me his baby pictures or told stories about his childhood. And once, when I’d asked about his father, he’d just said, “Dad’s a good man,” and changed the subject to what we should have for dinner.
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***
Now Ethan turned toward his mother, and his face did something I’d never seen it do before. It broke open, all the way, as if he’d been holding a door shut against a whole ocean and finally let go.
My husband had never shown me his baby pictures.
“Mom,” my husband said quietly.
She stepped into the room and closed the door behind her. Then she crossed the room slowly, her gift bag forgotten on the floor. She leaned over me, looked once at Lily’s sleeping face, and her hand flew up to cover her mouth.
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Ethan wiped his cheeks with the back of his wrist.
“Mom. She has it.”
Sadie’s eyes filled. She nodded as if someone were confirming a truth she’d known for decades.
She leaned over me.
I looked between them, holding Lily tighter against my chest.
“Has what? Can someone tell me what’s happening right now?”
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Ethan moved to the edge of the bed. His hand was shaking when he reached out.
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“Can I show you? I promise I’m not going to hurt her.”
I let him tilt Lily’s tiny head to the side.
I looked between them.
My husband brushed her dark wisp of hair back, exposing the soft skin behind her ear.
There, no bigger than a fingernail, was a pale, triangular birthmark. I hadn’t even noticed it.
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“That’s a birthmark, Ethan,” I whispered. “Babies have birthmarks. Why are you both looking at her like she’s a ghost?”
