Both girls had features that, to him, appeared Asian.
“Look,” I told Archie. “She’s holding on.”
He leaned forward, and I watched his expression change.
Both girls had features that, to him, appeared Asian, unlike anyone he knew in either family. His gaze moved from one face to the other.
“Those aren’t my children.”
“Look at them.”
The nurse beside me stopped speaking. Across the room, someone lowered a clipboard.
“Archie.”
He stepped back.
“Look at them.”
“I am looking at them.” My voice broke. “They’re our daughters.”
The nurse adjusted the blanket around the baby against my chest.
He stepped back.
“Let’s make sure you’re comfortable,” she said gently, drawing my attention back to the little mouth searching against my skin.
Archie stood by the door.
I waited for him to come back, to touch a tiny hand, to ask anything instead of announcing that he already knew.
He didn’t.
“Let’s wait for the test.”
Later, his mother stood at the foot of my bed. “You must understand why he’s upset.”
“I just gave birth.”
“And he’s had a shock.”
My mother rearranged the flowers on the windowsill.
“Mom?” I asked.
“Let’s wait for the test.”
“Tell me what happened.”
The samples were collected and submitted.
I signed the forms with one daughter sleeping beside me and the other hiccupping in her bassinet.
When Grandma called, I couldn’t manage my usual greeting.
“Tell me what happened,” she said.
“Your old room’s ready.”
By the time I finished, I was crying.
“Bring those girls here,” she told me. “Your old room’s ready.”
“You don’t want to wait for the results?”
“What for? You need somewhere to rest, and I’ve got room.”
Grandma would know more than Mom.
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