Page 42 of Trusting You
13
Carter
The next morning, Locke demands we take Lily to the Prospect Park Zoo.
He says it with such attitude, such testosterone-fueled decision, that I’m tempted to say no just to drive him berserk. But there’s a crack to his exterior, a sign of frustration, that I latch onto instead. I let him have his way since, I remind myself, he’s trying to do things for Lily, not me.
It’s day four of officially living in New York City, and I have no idea what zoo he means because I thought there was only one in NYC, the big one in Central Park. And even then, I can’t picture it among all the horses and carriages and giant ice rinks, and that pond with the restaurant beside it and all the fancy stores—
I scrunch my nose as I throw a sundress onto the futon. There’s too much stuff in this city.
“C’mon, look what I bought for an outing!” Locke calls in the main room.
Sighing, I step into my strappy floral dress and out of the nursery, kicking my sole box of clothes out of the way. Sophie one-armed my drawers at home, just swung in and dumped whatever she could into this box. It meant I had maybe five pieces of underwear, a lot of shirts, and two pairs of jeans. Then she went to my closet and gave me all my dresses. All of which I never wear.
I can’t be annoyed with her, because as I’d unfolded and cringed at every flowery piece of fabric I pulled out of the box, I also notice she’d sent me Paige.
Right in the middle, folded very protectively with all the shirts Sophie packed that I now realize were meant to cushion Paige, I pick up the vase.
It’s white ceramic, glued shut by the funeral home, but I’d painted it. Detailed flowers rim the belly, Paige’s favorites. Peonies, roses, and of course, lilies. I’d used the smallest brushes I’d owned to craft the finest detail. Upon first glance, the vase appears like spring. Sprouted from beauty, meant to be showcased on a bright, sunny day or to bring light on those with clouds and fog. Without asking, no one would know what it contained.
I kissed the top, then settled it carefully on a shelf Locke had installed for Lily, right next to the framed picture of the three of us—Paige, Lily, and me—interlocked on our apartment’s balcony, sunshine and clouds our backdrop. It was one of the last pictures before Paige donned a scarf around her head and called it her new headgear.
Where Lily went, her mom went. And I was glad to bring Paige back to her daughter.
“Welcome to your new home,” I whispered to Paige, then turned out of the room, wiping at the dampness on my cheeks.
Locke is standing in the center of the den, Lily at his feet, and he’s holding a black contraption by the strap.
I have to ask. “What is that?”
“A stroller!” he says with enthusiasm. “It folds, see?”
He starts extending and retracting it like an accordion.
“Uh…”
“New York,” he adds. “Everything needs to be compact.”
“I see.”
I throw my hair up in a messy bun and pick Lily up, settling her on my hip.
“It’s the best there is, the lady at the kid store assured me. All the Park Slope moms have this thing, it’s super safe, and there’s this shade thing that happens to keep Lily out of the sun…”
Locke’s back to unfolding the thing and trying to click it into place. He has to bang it on the floor a few times to get it to lock, and that was after he had to untangle the wheels from their folded position.
“Hang on. I gotta…” Locke grunts, flips the stroller over, and punches the frame. “It’s easy. She made it look so.” Punch. “Fucking.” Kick. “Easy.”
The determination on his expression, the pure defiance in the face of baby gear, has me smiling wide.
“There,” he says once the stroller finally looks like a stroller.
“It’s perfect,” I say, more for his benefit.
He straightens, and the relief in his body language is evident. “Awesome.”
I hand Lily over so he can strap her in, excited to see what comes next. As expected, the harness securing Lily is no small feat, and after a few grumbles and censored curses for Lily’s benefit, Locke has her in.