The First Bad Man by Miranda July

Author:Miranda July [July, Miranda]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Scribner
Published: 2015-01-13T04:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER NINE

All the women in Clee’s birth class were in their twenties or thirties, except the teacher, Nancy, who was my age. Whenever Nancy referred to what obstetricians were like twenty years ago, when she had her children, she would look at me; it was impossible not to nod in agreement, as if I were remembering. Sometimes I even chuckled ruefully with Nancy, and all the young couples would smile respectfully at me, a woman who had been through it and now was supporting her striking but sadly single daughter. We were given color-coded handouts to refer to during the birth in case we forgot how to time contractions or what to visualize for relaxation. We learned how to push a baby out (like urinating), what to drink in labor (Recharge and honey) and eat after birth (your own placenta). Clee seemed to be feverishly recording every little detail, but a closer look at her notebook revealed pages of bored loop-di-loops.

In the last trimester the musculoskeletal and hematopoietic systems completed themselves and Clee stopped moving. She lowered her immense body onto the couch and stayed there, wanting everything to be brought to and taken from her. Princess Buttercup.

“Remember what Nancy said in birth class,” I warned.

“What?”

“About how important it is to stay active. I’m sure the baby’s parents would appreciate you not watching TV every second of the day.”

“Actually, this is their favorite show,” she said, turning up America’s Funniest Home Videos. “So I should get the baby used to it.”

“Whose favorite show?”

“The baby’s parents. Amy and Gary.”

She laughed at a dog walking around with a can stuck on the end of its nose.

“You’ve met them?”

“What? No. They live in Utah or somewhere. I just picked them off the website.”

It was called ParentProfiles.com; a woman from Philomena Family Services had sent her the link a few months ago.

“Why Amy and Gary?” I clicked through pages and pages of clean, desperate couples. “Why not Jim and Gretchyn? Or Doug and Denice?”

“They had good favorites.”

I clicked on their favorites. Amy’s favorite food was pizza and nachos, Gary’s was coffee ice cream. They both liked dogs, restoring classic cars, and America’s Funniest Home Videos. Gary liked college football and basketball. Amy’s favorite holiday tradition was baking gingerbread houses.

“Which favorite was your favorite?”

She looked over my shoulder.

“Was there something about ducks? Scroll down.” She squinted at the screen. “Maybe that was someone else. Gingerbread houses—I like those.”

“That was the deciding factor?”

“No. But look at that barn.” She touched the image in the masthead.

“That’s a stock photo—it’s on every page.”

“No, that’s their barn.” She tried to click on the barn. “It doesn’t matter, they’re already official.”

“You e-mailed them?”

“Carrie did, from PFS. I don’t have to ever meet them.”

She’d really done it. Forms had been filled out.

“Did you go to an office and sign papers?”

“Carrie e-mailed me a thing. I did it all online.”

A snail was crawling up the bookshelf. I put it in Rick’s bucket.

“Did you put who the dad is?”

“I said I didn’t know.

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