Having a baby, Elizabeth realized, was a little like living with a visitor from a distant planet. There was a certain amount of give and take as the visitor learned your ways and you learned theirs, but gradually their ways faded and your ways stuck. Which she found regrettable. Because unlike adults, her visitor never tired of even the smallest discovery; always saw the magic in the ordinary. Last month Mad had let out a shriek from the living room, and Elizabeth ruined an hour’s worth of work in her rush to her side. “What is it, Mad?” she said, swooping in like a helicopter in a war zone. “What’s wrong?”
Mad, wide-eyed, looked back at her as she held up a spoon. Look at this! she seemed to say. It was right here! On the floor!
* * *
—
“And it’s not just exercise,” Dr. Mason was saying. “Rowing is a way of life. Am I right?” He was talking to the baby.
“Ite!” shouted Mad, banging on her tray.
“By the way, we have a new coach,” he said, turning to Elizabeth. “Very talented. I’ve told him about you.”
“Really? And did you tell him I’m a woman?”
“No!” shouted Mad.
“The point is, Miss Zott,” Dr. Mason said, avoiding her question as he grabbed a towel, moistened it, then moved to the high chair, where he used it to clean Mad’s sticky hands, “we’ve been having an ongoing problem with Two Seat. Between you and me, he’s a terrible rower, was only ever in the boat because of some old collegiate connections. But that all ended this past weekend when he broke his leg in a ski accident.” He tried to hide his delight. “Fractured in three places!”
Madeline stuck out her arms and the doctor lifted her out of the chair.
“I’m sorry to hear that,” Elizabeth said. “And I appreciate the vote of confidence. Still, I don’t have the experience. I was only in your boat a few times and that was because of Calvin.”
“Alv-in,” said Mad.
“Of course you have the experience,” Dr. Mason said, surprised. “Seriously? Trained by Calvin Evans himself? In a pair? I’d take that kind of expertise over some giant ex-college lackey any day of the week.”
“And I’m also busy,” she explained again.
“At four thirty in the morning? You’ll be back home before this one even knows you’ve been gone. Two seat.” He emphasized the phrase like this was a special deal that wouldn’t last. “Remember? We discussed this.”
Elizabeth shook her head. Calvin had been the same way—treated rowing as if it naturally superseded everything. She remembered a morning in particular when some of the other rowers in a different boat were expressing surprise that their five seat hadn’t shown up. The coxswain called him at home, discovering that Five Seat had a high fever. “Okay, but you’re still coming, right?” he demanded.
“Miss Zott,” Dr. Mason said, “I don’t mean to put you on the spot, but the truth is, we need you. I know I only rowed with you those few times, but I know what I felt. Plus, getting back in a boat will make you feel so much better. We all,” he said, thinking of his row that morning, “will feel so much better. Ask your neighbor. See if she won’t watch the baby.”
“At four thirty in the morning?”
“This is what is so unsung about rowing,” Dr. Mason said, turning to leave. “It happens at a time when no one’s really that busy.”
* * *
—
“I’ll do it,” Harriet said.
“You can’t be serious,” Elizabeth said.
“It’ll be fun,” Harriet said as if everyone agreed getting up in the middle of the night was fun. But really it was because of Mr. Sloane. He’d been drinking more and swearing more and the only way she knew how to deal with it was to stay away. “Anyway, it’s only three mornings a week.”
“It’s just a tryout. I may not pass muster.”
“You’ll be fine,” Harriet said. “You’ll pass with flying colors.”
* * *
—
But as Elizabeth wended her way through the boathouse two days later, small pods of drowsy rowers glancing at her in surprise, she began to feel that Harriet’s faith and Dr. Mason’s needs were both exaggerated.
“Good morning,” she said to rowers at random. “Hello.”
“What’s she doing here?” she heard someone whisper.
“Jesus,” said another.
“Miss Zott,” Dr. Mason called from the far end of the boathouse. “Over here.”