Here I’d thought we were just hanging out. Killing time. But gender specific or not, I kind of liked the idea of searching for something you’d lost or needed. Or both.
The light finally changed, dropping down to green, but I didn’t hit the gas. Instead I said, ‘Chicken salad?’
‘What? You never said that as a kid?’
‘“Call it chicken salad”?’ I asked. He nodded. ‘Um, no?’
‘Wow.’ He shook his head. ‘What have you been doing all your life?’
As soon as he said this, a million answers popped into my head, each of them true and legitimate. There were endless ways to spend your days, I knew that, none of them right or wrong. But given the chance for a real do-over, another way around, who would say no? Not me. Not then. Call it crazy, or just chicken salad. But within reason, or even without it, I was in, too.
‘Well,’ Maggie said, ‘that’s an interesting outfit.’
We all looked down at Thisbe, who was strapped in her stroller, still in the trance she’d fallen into as soon as I wheeled her down the driveway, eyes wide open, fully silent. ‘Interesting,’ I repeated. ‘What’s your point?’
‘Did Heidi put this on her?’ Leah said, crouching down so she was at Thisbe’s eye level.
‘No. I did.’ Leah looked at Maggie, who raised her eyebrows. ‘What? I think she looks cute.’
‘She’s wearing black,’ Maggie said.
‘So?’
‘So how often do you see infants in black?’
I looked down at the baby again. When my dad went to go get ready for dinner, I’d realized she, too, probably needed a change, so I went to her bureau to find a fresh Onesie. Since everything was pink, or had pink incorporated somewhere, I’d decided to be contrary, digging in the very bottom drawer until I found a plain black Onesie and some bright green pants. I thought she looked kind of rock and roll, personally, but judging by the looks I was getting now – not to mention the odd expression Heidi had given me as we said good-bye – maybe I was wrong.
‘You know,’ I said, ‘just because you’re a girl doesn’t mean you have to wear pink.’
‘No,’ Leah agreed, ‘but you don’t have to dress like a truck driver, either.’
‘She doesn’t look like a truck driver,’ I said. ‘God.’
Leah cocked her head to the side. ‘You’re right. She looks like a farmer. Or maybe a construction worker.’
‘Because she’s not in pink?’
‘She’s a baby,’ Maggie told me. ‘Babies wear pastels.’
‘Says who?’ I asked. Esther opened her mouth to answer, but before she could I said, ‘Society. The same society, I might add, that dictates that little girls should always be sugar and spice and everything nice, which encourages them to not be assertive. And that, in turn, then leads to low self-esteem, which can lead to eating disorders and increased tolerance and acceptance of domestic, sexual, and substance abuse.’
They all looked at me. ‘You get all that,’ Leah said after a moment, ‘from a pink Onesie?’
Just then, Thisbe began to whimper, turning her head from side to side. ‘Uh-oh,’ I said, pushing the stroller forward, then back. ‘This does not bode well.’
‘Is she hungry or something?’ Esther asked.
‘Maybe it’s her low self-esteem,’ Leah said.
I ignored this as I bent down to unbuckle the baby, scooping her up into my arms. Her skin was warm, her cries just starting to get loud as I turned her around, locking my hands around her waist, and bent my knees. Up, down. Up, down. By the third round, she was quiet.
‘Wow,’ Maggie said. ‘You’ve got the touch, huh?’
‘It’s called the elevator,’ I told her. ‘Works every time.’
They all watched me for a moment. Then Esther said, ‘You know, I think Auden’s right. The black isn’t so weird. It’s kind of radical, actually.’
‘Of course you’d say that,’ Leah said. ‘Look what you’re wearing.’
Esther glanced down at her dark T-shirt. ‘This isn’t black. It’s navy.’
The other two girls snorted. Then Leah turned to me, saying, ‘That’s what she said all during her goth period, when she wouldn’t wear anything but black. Black clothes, black shoes…’
‘Black eyeliner, black lipstick,’ Maggie added.
‘Are you guys ever going to let that go?’ Esther asked. She sighed. ‘It was a phase, all right? Like you two never did anything you regretted in high school.’
‘Two words,’ Maggie replied. ‘Jake Stock.’
‘No kidding,’ Leah agreed.
‘And you,’ Esther said, pointing at her, ‘dyed your hair blonde for Joe Parker. Which –’
‘No real redhead should ever do,’ Leah finished. ‘I’m still ashamed.’
Through all of this, I was still doing the elevator with Thisbe in my arms. She’d gone back into her trance, quiet, and for a moment we all just watched her moving up and down. Finally Maggie said, ‘Isn’t it weird to think we were all that little, once?’
‘Totally.’ Leah reached out, taking Thisbe’s hand and squeezing it. ‘She’s like a clean slate. No mistakes yet.’
‘Lucky girl,’ Esther said. Then, leaning closer, she added, ‘A word of advice: don’t do the goth thing. Nobody ever lets you forget it.’