Chapter 11
I didn't cry after the ultrasound. I sat in the parking lot behind the clinic with my hand on my belly and I could still hear the technician's voice saying everything looks perfect. Daniel sat beside me with his hand over mine and for a minute neither of us moved. The air conditioner was running and it smelled like hot asphalt and hand sanitizer.
On the drive home I told him I wanted to go back to the pavilion.
He looked over at the light. "The same one?"
"Yes," I said. "That one."
He didn't argue. He just nodded and kept driving, his thumb tracing the back of my hand. I could feel our daughter shift under my ribs, a slow roll, and I realized I hadn't wanted to avoid that place. I wanted to overwrite it.
That afternoon I called the parks department from our apartment. The woman who answered had a soft, tired voice and asked me for the date. I stood at our kitchen counter with the calendar open in front of me. My pink maternity dress from the baby shower was hanging on the back of the laundry door, clean now, the frosting washed out. I could see it from where I stood.
"Saturday after next," I told her. "Garden pavilion. Just a small gathering. Maybe fifteen people."
She typed while I waited. "It's open that morning," she said. "Ten to one. Do you want to put a hold on it?"
"Yes," I said. "Please put it under both names. Emma and Daniel Carter."
Daniel was leaning in the doorway, listening. When I hung up he said, "You want both names on the reservation?"
"I want both names on everything," I said.
He walked over and stood next to me. He didn't say anything for a second, just looked at the calendar where I'd written PAVILION in pencil and circled it.
Later that night I sat at our table with a stack of plain white invitations I'd bought at the drugstore. Nothing fancy, just heavy cardstock with a pink border. My handwriting was messy because my wrist was resting on the swell of my belly. Daniel sat across from me with a pen.
I wrote the same thing on each one. Please join us to celebrate our daughter. Hosted by Emma and Daniel Carter. Garden Pavilion. Saturday at eleven.
For his mother's, I added two lines at the bottom after I stared at it for a long time. I showed it to Daniel before I sealed it.
"You are welcome to come," I'd written. "We ask that every guest be treated with respect. If that can be honored, we would love to have you there."
He read it twice. The kitchen was quiet except for the refrigerator humming. He tapped the pen against the table.
"Is that too much?" I asked.
"No," he said. His voice was low. "It's clear. It's fair." He took the invitation from me and signed his name under mine on the bottom right, his signature right next to mine. Daniel Carter. It was the first time he'd put his name next to mine on anything to do with his family without asking what his mother would think first.
We mailed them the next morning together. We walked to the blue mailbox on the corner and he held the small stack while I dropped each one in. His mother's was on top. I could see our two names through the little window.
Two days later his phone rang while we were making dinner. He had it on speaker without thinking. I was chopping carrots and the knife stopped mid-cut when I heard her voice.
"I received something in the mail," she said. No hello.
Daniel looked at me. I nodded once.
"We sent invitations," he said. "Emma and I. For a small gathering at the pavilion."
A pause. I could hear her breathing on the other end.
"I saw the names," she said. Her voice was tight. "And the note at the bottom."
"That's our boundary," Daniel said. He said it calmly, but his hand found the edge of the counter and gripped it. "If you come, we need you to respect Emma. And our daughter."
"So I'm being given conditions now," she said. "To celebrate my own grandchild."
"You're being invited," I said, stepping closer so she could hear me. "We want you there. But we need it to be safe."
She didn't answer right away. I could picture her in her kitchen, holding the invitation the way she'd held her composure at the pavilion, lips pressed.
"And if I don't agree to your conditions?" she asked.
"Then we'll miss you," Daniel said. "But we're still hosting it. At the same place."
Another silence. The kind that had filled our apartment for weeks.
"I'll need to think about it," she said finally.
"Take the time you need," I said. "Just let us know by Thursday so we have a count."
After she hung up, Daniel set his phone down slowly. He looked at me and let out a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding.
"She didn't say no," he said.
"She didn't say yes either," I said.
May you like
He came around the counter and stood next to me. "We did it together this time," he said.
We left the invitations list on the fridge with a magnet, our two names at the top, and waited.
