The Misfortunes of Others (31 page)

Weezy nodded in sympathy. “Bernard told us that you didn’t get much of a chance to read those magazines you brought along, either.”

“No, no, I was screaming too loud to enjoy them,” Maya said tiredly. “Don’t go yet. I love seeing both of you. Stay and tell me stories.”

Weezy looked at her doubtfully. “But you seem so tired, sweetie. Why don’t we let you nap and come back later?”

“No, no. Please stay. Did you really think Rebecca was as outstandingly beautiful as you said?”

Inside the glass walls of the nursery, a large bearded man glared at the curious faces pressed against the window. He stood protectively over a little crib that said WOODRUFF in pink letters. Nestled inside the crib, a tiny mite of humanity
squirmed and wriggled. She rubbed her eyes, glared up at her father with a gaze as fierce as his own, and began to squeal.

Bernard felt a fluttering of alarm, a nervous palpitation of his heartbeat that occurred whenever his daughter began to cry. He left the nursery, closing the door securely behind him, and went down the hall to Maya’s room.

“She’s crying, Maya.”

“Oh. Okay. Help me out of bed, will you?”

She hobbled down the hallway, leaning on his arm, and settled herself with a groan on a chair in the corner of the nursery. Rebecca began to nurse.

“I like this,” said Maya. “Exposing my breasts in front of countless strangers with their faces pressed against the window. This is nice.”

“They’re not looking at you, they’re looking at their own babies,” Bernard said, patting her shoulder. He moved between her and the window, his brows beetled, his look so fiercely unwelcoming that several people lost their nerve and drifted away down the hall. After what seemed like a long time, Rebecca gave a happy hiccup and fell asleep. Maya rearranged her hospital gown, handed her back to Bernard and limped off towards her room.

“Call me if she needs me.”

Bernard needed no reminder. He held his daughter tightly for a moment before putting her back into the crib. She was a mystery to him, he thought; where had she come from? What was she doing here? He rarely waxed philosophical, but her birth, which had been one of the most hair-raising experiences of his life, had got him thinking. He and Maya had created her body, but not her essence. He had known that the moment she lifted those dark blue eyes to his.

He tucked her in tenderly, arranging the soft pink blanket around her so that she would be comfortable. Rebecca looked comfortable, splayed out on her stomach like a frog, lost in the
quick shallow sleep of infancy, her chest fluttering up and down. When he was finished playing with the blanket, he stood for a moment stroking her downy head, covered with fluffy dark hair, not as light a brown as Maya’s nor as dark as his own. It was another way, he mused, that she was already different from them. It was not love that he felt for her, really: more like a tremendous responsibility and protectiveness. He patted her head tenderly and straightened up, to find Weezy watching him with amused eyes through the glass. Snooky was next to her, grinning at him and holding Mabel. Bernard stiffened and gave them an offended look.
Don’t disturb my privacy
, the look said.
Leave me alone with my baby daughter
.

Weezy nodded, her eyes soft, and blew him a kiss. Snooky waved the teddy bear’s arm, and as Bernard resumed his watchdog stance, the two of them moved away hand in hand, down the corridor and out of his sight.