Marie observed herself in the mirror, smoothing the wrinkles in her slip. She turned and surveyed the dresses on the bed. Which one is right for a wedding, she wondered. Pale blue for a Spring ceremony? No, no, their decorations are blue. Logan told her. Maybe lilac, calf-length and flowing? No, because the bridesmaids' dresses were lilac, blending with the blue. She couldn't let them think she'd wanted to be a bridesmaid, that she was hurt by the exclusion. Stop it, Marie. You were lucky to be invited.
Anyway, what about white? Sleeveless, fitted, knee-length? No. What will they think if you wear white? Marie swallowed and walked to her closet, pulling out a pretty, cream-colored crocheted dress, not quite right for the occasion, but better than the dresses on the bed. Logan would like it better than the others anyway. He'd say the others made her look like an Easter egg.
As she put the three rejected garments back into her closet, she could feel the milk beginning to leak through the pads of her nursing bra. Not now, there's not enough time to feed the baby before I go to the church. Marie took a deep breath before she walked across the hallway to the baby's room, a drip of milk sliding down her ribcage like a trail of kisses. Calm down. In her crib, Benna was kicking her legs and waving her arms, her face beginning to turn into the pinched expression of a cry for food. Hush, angel, Mommy's here. Marie picked up her daughter and smoothed her hand over the fuzzy head, grateful that it was darkening into a brown like hers. She had been afraid it would be red.
She sat down in the rocking chair in the baby's room. Ten minutes for the left breast, ten for the right. Five minutes to burp, five minutes to pull on her dress and get to the car, fifteen to the church. That's forty-five minutes. And five more to park, five to go in, find a seat towards the back. Fifty-five. It's okay--she had one hour, exactly, until she had to be there. Everything would be okay.
Marie doffed her slip and pulled down one side of the nursing bra. Benna hungrily latched onto a nipple and began her gentle sucking, tiny baby hands skimming the near-white skin of her breast. Ten minutes are up for the left. Now right. Marie leaned her head back against the rocking chair and loved the gentle weight of the baby in her arms.
During the four days she had spent in the hospital, she had not been dry for more than a half-hour at a time. Blood, sweat, and milk coated her skin and she couldn't sleep in dampened sheets and an uncomfortable nightgown that always twisted up around her waist. It agitated the criss-cross row of stitches on her belly, a straight row, swollen red around the sutures. Only Logan came to visit her and his gentle weight pressing down the mattress at her hip felt good. Safe. Other people had sent flowers, generic gifts paid for out of obligation to the fallen angel.
One time. It was just one time. But she never thought about that if Logan was there. She would be walking down the hallway slowly, tugging her IV tree with a nurse on the other arm.
"You need to be on your feet. The sooner you get yourself walking, the sooner you'll heal up down there."
Down there. Down there felt like it was going to fall to pieces and let all of her insides spill out. Who would take care of her new baby girl then? Who would take care of Benna?
The nurse carefully helped her turn a corner and there he was, standing by the nursing station. It looked as if he were asking questions and his stance was authoritative. Just making sure they're taking care of you he said and smiled. His smile was comfort, like a breeze on a hot day when you're covered with sweat. It felt so good.
Marie shook off her nurse and shuffled too him in paper slippers. The nurses knew what would happen and went to prepare cool compresses and a glass of water for the thin lost-looking young woman who was about to pass out. Hard birth they said. No one to help her, all by herself they said.
He stood on the side without the IV and walked her toward her room at a slow pace that her wounded body could keep up with. He asked her how the baby was and how she was, had anyone else come to see her? His jaw clenched when she shook her head no. She didn't care because she was so happy that he had come, he was there and it was his arms that cradled her shoulders and slipped under knees so that she didn't fall onto the hard tiles. She smiled at him and his clenched jaw relaxed and he smiled back. It was his face, the smile, that blurred before her eyes before dissolving to black.
Logan stood in the middle of the hallway with light Marie and her pale, lonely face in his arms as the nurses crowded around him.
Benna was finished and Marie fixed her nursing bra before replacing her slip. From the shelf below the changing table, she grabbed a soft white towel covered with pale yellow ducks. She flung it onto her shoulder and lay her baby's head on that same shoulder. Gentle pats on the back for five minutes. Then dress on. What about the diaper bag? Already in the car. Purse? Make-up? On the table by the door. She'd do make-up at stop lights: lip gloss and a little foundation for the circles around her eyes. Logan didn't like much make-up. He said she had lovely pale skin and she didn't need make-up.
Done burping. Change Benna, put her in the pretty pink dress. Pink for little girls. Eight minutes and she was in the car, ready to go--a little behind schedule, but still okay, good girl. Make-up on in the car, just that little bit. Right. She knew where to park because she had scouted the church like a spy. Good planning.
Benna was falling asleep in her carseat and she would be smiling and pleasant when they saw Logan at the church. He would be there out of respect for his teammates, hopefully unaffected by the fact that Jean was marrying Scott. She wondered what to say when she saw him there. Calm down, Marie. You'll be fine.
She had wondered what to say when he came back. She was young, stupid Marie, so perfect and well-behaved, angelic even until she learned to control her power. It was just one night and she was drunk on sensation and the sweet-talking Cajun with glowing eyes was awfully persuasive. Marie slept with him, reveling in the magic that was male hands skimming her body and soft lips on hers. He left four months before Logan returned. It was probably lucky for the sweet-talking Cajun that they had never met.
She didn't even show until seven months but everyone knew by three. Jean tried to act like she understood but her brow always furrowed disapprovingly. Scott informed her that he was withdrawing his offer for her to join the team. Ororo couldn't speak to her without reproach in her voice. She heard vicious whispers all around her, so she moved out. The Professor had thought that would be best, but he gave her a credit card and promised that it would always be paid off.
The city was loud and forced her into her own private world. The neighbors in her upscale building didn't bother with her.
Only Logan bothered. Only his eyes had not shown anything ugly when she saw him after he found out from Scott. She had cried at this, her inability to tell him herself. She cried for shame of herself, weakness, cowardice, stupidity, desperation, all of it. Logan didn't make her feel more ashamed, like everyone else. He held her like before he left. He visited her in the hospital. He cared. And she worshipped him for it.
The wedding invitation was a surprise because Marie had believed herself almost entirely cut off from everyone from the mansion. Maybe they didn't think she would come. She would, though, just to see him. She had been at her home in the city for three months and they hadn't seen each other. She was very nervous, afraid that maybe he had decided he was better off without seeing her. She would ask about his dog tags, if he wanted them back. He would laugh at the memory of his gift to her. But what if he was offended because he thought she didn't want them, that she wasn't grateful for his company, his hospital visits? Please let him think I'm smart and charming, please let him adore my pretty, brown-haired daughter.
She parked at the church, far away because it was more crowded than she thought it would be. She smoothed the crocheted dress and lifted Benna out of her carseat, wrapped in a gauzy pink blanket that matched her dress. Diaper bag on the shoulder, purse in the outside pocket.
Logan was handsome in a relaxed version of a suit: nice pants, a dress shirt open at the neck, and a sport coat. No tie, no cuff links. He was talking to Ororo but turned his back on her when he saw Marie. He smiled and walked toward her. He fingered the silver streak of hair like he always did. She looked up at him with adoration in her eyes. Please.
His big hand came to rest on Benna's soft baby hair.
"She gets prettier every day."
Marie's heart soared.
"How are you?"
"Okay," she said and smiled. What else could she do with her heart as light as a feather, ready to beat out of her chest with sheer joy?
Logan smiled down at her and wondered who she saw. He guessed an old man in a poor excuse for a suit, edges too rough to touch, an inaccessible soul. He was broken, not to be handled at all. Not so. Marie saw her savior. She wondered who he saw. A pathetic lonely girl-woman, hardly old enough to have a child. A slightly crazy woman in a dress that pulled a little too tightly over her swollen breasts. Not at all. He saw a taller, slimmer version of the girl he never should have left. She was unsoiled to him with soft hair and dark eyes that flashed something at him that he hoped might be love. He saw that their house would have flowers that she planted along the walkway and toys all over the floor, for girls and boys. He saw that he would not be alone.
"People are starting to go in," he said as the crowd shifted around them.
Oh, she said and looked at the ground. This alarmed him because she sounded hurt. He thought he had offended her. Maybe she had not wanted to sit with him. He decided that he had assumed too much so he stepped back a little to let her know that he hadn't meant to intrude. Marie's eyes began to water because he was leaving and they had only been together for a moment. Surely he wasn't ashamed of her? Benna reached a fist out of her fuzzy blanket and latched onto the lapel of Logan's jacket, baby strength pulling him just a little closer. He saw Marie's eyes, which held a brown, comforting, devoted depth that he wanted to dive into. His hand fell lightly--hesitatingly--onto her hip, guiding her toward the church. She held on tight to Benna with one hand and pressed his palm more firmly onto her side with the other.
*End.*
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