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Show Motherlunge a novel 133 So after work on Friday I hurried to Pavia back at the apartment. She was waiting for me, standing at the top of the stairs leading to the front door. She had already unfolded and latched the stroller and packed its various pockets with X.'s surprising array of personal effects-diapers, bottle, toys, clothing. She had X. set on her hip; her eyes were bright. She began to talking at me as I climbed toward her, a Slinky of words uncoiling down the steps to meet me. "Instructions are typed up and on the counter. Bedtime's 7:30-you know that-and he can have a little bottle soon and another, bigger one before he goes down. Sun's still up, so I've got sunscreen on him. Hat," she said, pointing to the mesh bag underneath the stroller seat, "and a bag of breadcrumbs for the ducks. You're going to the park, right? Feed the ducks?" I nodded. She took my backpack and moved X. over to me. She opened the front door behind her. "Bye," she said stiffly. "You can go now. I just need to get a few things done inside before I go out. I'll be gone by the time you come back." She leaned in and pushed her head against us both. She kissed X.'s neck rolls and cheeks, craned to kiss the back of his head. Once. Twice. She breathed his hair, kissed it. Three times. Four. He grabbed a few strands of her hair, which pulled off in his hand as she straightened. "Ouch," said my sister. "Goodbye. Have fun. See you later." She carried the stroller down the five steps to the sidewalk then bounded back up the stairs, General tripping at her heels. She waved at me over her shoulder as she opened the door and went through it. I watched her slender white hand flutter at General's collar as the door closed. |