“Gussie, get down.”
“I’m reading the incubator charts.”
“You can read them with your feet on the ground.”
That was not true. And moreover, Gussie did not like it when Anna told her what to do. She thought about reminding Anna that she was not her mother but she had a feeling that Anna would march her home if she did. Instead she let out a loud sigh, loud enough, she hoped, to let Anna know she was annoyed, before slowly lowering her feet to the floor.
The signs provided visitors with the babies’ names and birth dates, along with some numbers and symbols that Gussie didn’t bother trying to interpret. She loved reading the baby’s names, some of which were so silly that they had to have been made up. Who named a child, even one who was likely to die, Marigold? Perhaps Marigold’s family had been too nervous to name her themselves? Or was it possible that Marigold wasn’t the baby’s real name and that her actual name was Mary or Margaret?
“Hyram was in that one, over there,” Gussie said, pointing to an incubator in the corner. “I think.”
“I didn’t know Hyram was here. I wouldn’t have—”
“Let me come?”
Anna looked uncomfortable. “You visited him here?”
Gussie nodded, cautious about giving too much away.
“With your parents?”
Gussie didn’t say a word. She just trailed over to the corner unit where a baby no bigger than a squash lay sleeping, bundled in white blankets. Sometimes Anna was quite daft. Of course, Gussie’s parents wouldn’t have brought her here. It had been Florence who had asked if she wanted to go, Florence who had understood how frustrating it was to be told she had a baby brother she could not see.
He had been so tiny, smaller than many of the other incubator babies. His head had looked large, in proportion to the rest of him, and his body was covered in downy white hair that Florence had promised would disappear as he grew. His arms and legs were long and thin, nothing like the chubby appendages Gussie saw on the babies in the Easter Parade. Mostly, she was surprised by how red he was.
“He looks like a boiled shrimp,” she had told her aunt, who twisted her mouth into a small frown.
On that visit, Florence had encouraged her to slip beneath the railing to get a better look at her baby brother. She’d stood close to the incubator, her fingers on the glass.
“He can hear you,” Florence said. “Tell him anything you want him to know.”
Gussie thought for a minute. What did she want Hyram to know?
While she stood there, trying to think of something to say, a pair of tourists walked up beside Florence. It was easy to see they were from out of town. People from offshore always carried more bags than necessary and had a habit of wearing their beach shoes into the shops.
“This one can’t have a prayer of making it,” the man remarked to his wife.
Gussie turned around to get a better look at him, taking in his bulging shirt buttons and the camera that hung around his neck. What did it mean to have a prayer?
“Hey, mister,” said Florence, tapping the man on the arm. “This little girl is his sister, and your comments aren’t very helpful—or kind.”
The man just blinked at Florence, too surprised to speak, while his wife apologized profusely and ushered him quickly toward the door. Once it swung shut behind them, Florence urged Gussie to continue.
She bit her bottom lip, thinking hard, before she finally said, “Hi, Hyram, it’s Gussie—your sister. It’s nice to meet you.”
Had Florence known Hyram would die when she took Gussie to see him? Was that, perhaps, why she’d taken her? Gussie couldn’t be sure.
Anna touched Gussie’s shoulder, and Gussie reminded herself that the baby in the incubator in front of her was not Hyram. He was some other baby—the placard said his name was George. It was possible that George had his own big sister, who anxiously wondered if she’d ever meet him.
Anna began to play with Gussie’s hair, and Gussie pulled away from her instinctively. Anna was not allowed to pretend to be Florence. Not now and not ever.
“Let’s go, Gus,” said Anna. “I’m afraid this might not have been a good idea.”
Florence had been so good at knowing what Gussie needed, even when the thing she needed was as big and scary as visiting her baby brother at Couney’s. But Anna wasn’t like that. She was afraid of everything and everyone. Of course, she’d be afraid of this place and what Esther would think if she discovered they had come.
Gussie’s father rarely left the plant during the day, which is why, as she and Anna walked back to the apartment, it was such a surprise to see him sitting in the window of Kornblau’s, eating a corned beef sandwich as if it were a Saturday afternoon.
Gussie tapped on the glass and waved, then did a little dance and rushed toward the restaurant’s entrance. Anna called for her to wait but Gussie ignored her. She hadn’t seen her father in days.
The entrance of Kornblau’s was crowded with parties waiting for tables. Gussie had to weave through a sea of people, offering apologies as she ducked under elbows to get to her father’s table, which was positioned in the far corner of the dining room, near the window.
Gussie loved surprises. When she had tapped on the glass, her father had looked so surprised to see her. His eyebrows had moved up on his face, and he’d put his sandwich down before motioning her inside. Had he motioned her inside? It didn’t matter. Either way, he was very, very surprised.
“Father!” she said, when she’d finally arrived in front of his table. She went to give him a hug but he was seated at a booth, and it was tricky to maneuver around the table, which was bolted to the floor. She banged her
