Andrew's Brain by Doctorow E. L

Author:Doctorow, E. L. [Doctorow, E. L.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Contemporary, Psychology, Adult
ISBN: 9780812995046
Amazon: 081299504X
Goodreads: 18240384
Publisher: Random House
Published: 2014-01-14T08:00:00+00:00

I CAN TELL YOU: Last weekend Andrew decided to see his child.

Really!

As you know I’ve been holding back, holding back, and the fact that you’ve never brought up the subject, never once urging me to go see her or even asking oh so casually if it had ever occurred to me—

This is something you had to come to out of yourself, your own thinking, your own feeling.

Fine.

After all, you’ve never even told me her name.

Willa. Her name is Willa. I had left her birth certificate with Martha so there would be no mistake about that. Briony chose the name to honor her father. It’s lovely, isn’t it? Willa.

Quite lovely.

But think of the difficulties. What would I say? Why would I have come, for what purpose? I didn’t know. Did I want her back? And if I did, would that be best for her? And if she was with me, would Andrew the Pretender kick in and somehow put her in harm’s way? His child? And if he had just come for a visit, what would she think, could she relate to him in any way, think of him as her father who hadn’t seen her since she was an infant in a car seat? A man who would say Hi and leave again? To say nothing of Martha, who was as likely as not to slam the door in my face.

There are certain legalities it seems to me you could rely on. I’m not a lawyer, but the blood relation always prevails. Parenthood rules unless it can be proven that you’re not fit. A drunkard, a homeless man, a criminal, that sort of thing.

That sort of thing?

You just don’t give children away in this country as if we were back in the medieval world. When you left Willa, was there anything written? Did you consult a lawyer, sign anything, you and Martha?

I was in despair. I needed help. I had considered suicide.

Oh? That’s new.

I was at the point where I talked to Briony as if she was alive. Taking her instructions—how to heat the formula, I would read these things but ask her if I had understood them correctly. She would tell me. Put the little thing over your shoulder to burp her after feeding. She will need something warmer for the coming winter. And when it’s time for her shots, off to the pediatrician she goes. She’d laugh, my Briony, to see me in my domesticity, I’d have hallucinations where she’d appear beside me, as in life, and then a moment later be a tiny figure doing cartwheels and handstands and somersaults on the kitchen table. Oh, God. And you want me to consult a lawyer?

You didn’t hire anyone to help you?

I had no help, I couldn’t think of hiring anyone, I had Briony. I took a leave of absence from my job—an unpaid paternity leave. And then the madness dissolved, and I did go to get help. I was desperate for help. I went to Martha.

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