Lally had contrary information. “But what about babies who are adopted? They get new moms.”
Frances sighed inwardly; she should have seen this coming. Fuck Michael, he was putting her off her game. Her knees hurt from kneeling next to the bath, so she shifted to her butt. Much better, although now she could feel soapy water seeping through her pants. “Yes, but the lady who was pregnant with them is still their mother, she just isn’t the person who’s going to be their everyday mom. And the person who adopts them is going to be their mom or dad just as much as if they had been pregnant with them, right?”
Lally wrinkled her nose and looked up from under her horns. “Two moms? Like Wyatt?”
“No,” said Frances, running the sprayer water, making it the right temperature. “Turn around, baby, and tip your head back.” She started rinsing the little head, shielding Lally’s eyes as best she could with her left hand. The sprayer was broken and one clogged hole directed water down her sleeve while another generously watered her left nipple. She ignored them both. “Wyatt has two mommies at the same time. Adopted children have an original mommy, who they often don’t know very well, but sometimes they do,” this was getting confusing, “and another mom or dad, who adopted them and is their everyday mom or dad.”
“Soap! Soap!” Lally jerked her head forward and stuck her hand back for a towel, which Frances handed her. Once she’d dealt with that, Lally tipped her head back again, trustingly.
“So even if someone has two dads, like Molly”—a kid at school—“they still have a mommy somewhere.”
“Exactly.” Frances wondered if she could just leave it there. Had she given enough information to satisfy, and not too much? She felt herself guilty of over-information all the time, explaining too much, going into too much detail. Michael was better at this. When a younger Ava had asked where she came from, and Frances had opened her mouth to start explaining the intricacies of sexual reproduction, Michael had said, “New York,” and Ava had nodded and walked away.
“It was like the joke, right?” Michael had said, reacting to Frances’s laughter. “You know, the kid who asks his parents where he’s from, and they go into all the details about sex and pregnancy, and then he says, ‘Oh . . . Billy’s from Chicago.’” Frances had just shaken her head and leaned over to kiss him. She wished he were in the bathroom to handle this line of questioning, and not downstairs being a self-pitying dick.
As Lally climbed out of the tub, and was wrapped in a hooded towel that made her look like a dinosaur, she said, “But if Kate and Theo’s mom and dad get divorced, then she won’t be their mom anymore, right?” She thought for a second. “Or will their dad not be their dad?” She looked suddenly worried. “Or do they have no mom and dad at all?”
Frances picked her up, which was getting harder, but Frances wasn’t ready to stop. She carried her down the hall, holding her tight, and sat down with her on their big bed.
“OK, here’s how this works.” She paused. “Do you want chocolate milk?” Lally shook her head, not ready for cocoa yet. “Do you need pajamas?” Lally shook her head. “OK, so, you know that Daddy is my husband, right?” A nod. “And I am his wife, right?” Currently, she thought, assuming I don’t stab him in the throat later. Another nod. “OK, so a husband and a wife can get divorced, but if they have kids and are also a mommy and a daddy to someone, that is forever.”
“You can’t divorce a kid?”
“Nope.” Frances looked up and saw Ava leaning in the doorway. “Once you’re someone’s mommy you’re their mommy forever, and you never stop loving them or taking care of them or wanting them to be happy. That’s just the way it is.” She was looking at Ava as she said this, and saw her daughter about to challenge pretty much everything she’d just said, citing child abuse, death, drug addiction, et al., but then Frances frowned slightly, indicating Lally, and Ava just rolled her eyes. There would be time for brutal honesty later. For now Frances was determined to let Lally think the best of the world, and apparently Lally’s older sister was OK with that, too.
“Unless the kid is really bad, right?” There was a pause, and Lally tipped her head back to look at her mom. “What if the kid is really bad, can you divorce them then?” Whether she was planning some terrible crime, or just wondering how bad refusing to eat vegetables was, legally, Frances didn’t know. She kissed her daughter on her clean little forehead, and shook her head.
“No, baby, it doesn’t matter how naughty a kid is, you still love them forever.”
“Even if they poo on the floor?” This was a question based on experience.
“Yes, even then.”
“Or if they steal your hat?”
Frances grinned. “Or even then. There is NOTHING you can do that will stop me loving you. I might not like what you do, but I will always love you.”
“Promise?”
“Promise.”
Frances hugged her littlest child, and looked up at her eldest. Ava was just looking back at her, impossible to read. Then she turned away and headed off to her room.
Twenty-one.
Wyatt was already asleep when Sara came home from work, still in makeup and looking gorgeous. Iris was wearing an old-lady flannel nightgown, lying in bed reading the New Yorker and eating ice cream. She was happy to see Sara, of course, but inwardly cursed that she hadn’t gotten more ice cream in the first place because now getting seconds would look greedy. Bad planning.
Sara threw herself down on
