Chapter 6 - The Bottle in My Tote Bag
The side room was too quiet after the door shut. It was small with white walls and a couch along one side and a tall mirror I didn't want to look into. My arms were shaking from holding her so long. She felt it first.
She scrunched up her face and let out a thin cry, then a harder one. Her cheeks went pink. I pulled the light pink blanket back up around her shoulders because it had slipped when the bride grabbed me. I smoothed it with my hand three times.
"Shh," I whispered. "I got you."
Her cream knit top had ridden up in back. I tugged it down with my fingers while I kept her against my chest. I didn't put her down. I never put her down. The couch was right there but I stayed standing because if I sat she might think I was leaving her.
Daddy stood near the door with his hands half in his pockets like he didn't know what to do with them. The bride stood by the mirror with her veil pushed back. The flowers on the arch outside smelled sweet through the crack under the door. In here it smelled like dust and candle wax.
My tote bag was still on my shoulder. The strap was cutting in. I'd carried it all the way on the bus and up the church steps and down the aisle, bumping against my hip. I shifted her weight to my left arm and dug in with my right hand.
I knew where everything was without looking. Bottle on top. I had made it that morning and kept it upright so it wouldn't leak. It wasn't warm anymore. I shook it a little and tested it on my wrist the way I'd seen done, quick and careful while holding her.
She turned her head toward it before I even got the nipple to her mouth. Then she latched on and her crying cut off in the middle of a breath. Her whole body relaxed. Her little hand grabbed at my cardigan.
"There," I said. My voice sounded too loud in that small room.
Daddy watched me feed her. He didn't blink much. I saw his eyes go from the bottle to the bag hanging open on my arm. On top were the two diapers folded flat, and the plastic bag with her extra cream top, and the half-empty pack of wipes with the sticker half off. Under that was the empty juice box I'd finished at noon and the bus transfer I hadn't thrown away.
"You brought all that?" he asked. His voice was low.
I nodded and kept the bottle tipped just right. "She needed four ounces. I only had enough for two bottles. This is the second one."
He stepped closer and looked inside the tote like he was counting. I saw his jaw move. He reached out like he wanted to hold the bag for me, then stopped and just steadied the strap so it wouldn't pull on my shoulder.
"How long have you been carrying her today?" he asked.
I didn't want to answer in front of the bride. The bottle gurgled. I lifted her a little higher so she wouldn't get air. "Since morning," I said.
The bride made a small sound. I looked up. She wasn't looking at Daddy for once. She was looking at me and the baby. Her mouth wasn't tight like in the aisle. For a second her face went soft around the eyes.
"She's good with her," she said quietly, almost to herself. "She really —"
She stopped. She glanced at her reflection in the tall mirror, at the white dress and the veil, and something changed back. She straightened her shoulders and checked the thin watch on her wrist.
"Okay," she said. Her voice was business again. "That is sweet, but the organist has played the same song three times. The guests are whispering. The photographer is standing around getting paid."
Daddy didn't turn to her right away. He kept his eyes on the bottle and the way I was holding it. "She's eating," he said.
"I can see that," the bride said. She held up her hands. "I'm not a monster. Let her finish. But we can't stay in here all afternoon." She looked at Daddy hard. "Ten minutes. You get ten minutes to figure out bottles and blankets, and then we go back out there and finish this wedding."
The baby's sucking slowed. Her eyelids got heavy. Milk bubbled at the corner of her mouth and I wiped it with the edge of the pink blanket. I kept her upright against my shoulder like I was supposed to and patted her back real light with two fingers.
Daddy moved to stand beside me, not in front of the door anymore but next to us, his shoulder blocking the bride's view a little. He didn't touch the baby. He just stood there so close I could see the black bow tie and the wrinkle in his shirt from where he'd leaned forward in the pew.
"Take your time," he told me, quiet, so only I heard. "Don't rush her."
May you like
I nodded and kept patting. She let out a tiny burp and sighed into my cardigan. The blanket was warm now from both of us. I tucked it around her feet again.
The bride checked her watch and then her phone. Ten minutes, she'd said. I counted in my head while I held the empty bottle so it wouldn't drip on the white couch. I wasn't going to waste a minute of it.
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