“None taken. College isn’t the right path for everyone. I’m glad you have a sense of what’s right for you—and are brave enough to go after it.”
Adeline felt a pride rise inside of her she had never known. She had doubted before, but in that moment, she started to believe that maybe there was a larger force at work here, that this life gave and took and surprised, and that just maybe it all added up to something truly wonderful.
*
As the baby grew inside of her, Adeline’s mother became more fatigued. Her projects around the house grew less ambitious.
In the second half of summer, they spent most of their time sewing. As a child, Adeline had thought her mother’s hobby was the most boring thing ever invented. Here and now, at almost twenty years old, in the presence of the mother she had already lost once, she relished every minute of it.
In the corner of the small family room, they sewed baby clothes and toddler outfits that Adeline’s younger self would soon wear. Finally, after all this time, Adeline saw what her mother loved about sewing, the joy of making something from scratch, the serenity of the motions, of creating something your child could enjoy, and doing something to help provide for your family. Like building a life, sewing was much more than knitting pieces together.
As summer came to an end and the first hint of fall descended on Palo Alto, their afternoon and early evening projects were cut shorter, and increasingly they found themselves sitting on the couch, watching TV, her mother grimacing as the child inside of her kicked relentlessly at night.
They watched the first three seasons of LOST, and Adeline and her mother both cursed the world when they learned the fourth season wouldn’t be out on DVD until Christmas. They agreed that it was so, so unfair.
The idea of people being stranded on a strange time travel island made Adeline think of her father on Pangea. Except, of course, he wasn’t battling a smoke monster and finding things buried on the island.
*
One night, during a game of Scrabble, her mother said, “Speaking of spelling things, I wanted to ask you something.”
Adeline raised her eyebrows.
“Your name. It’s so pretty. Sam and I have really struggled to find one we love. I wondered if you would mind if we named our daughter Adeline.”
“Not at all. I’d love that.”
*
Adeline’s investment accounts continued to swell that summer, but she didn’t spend much of the money. She did, however, buy a used Camry that had just gotten off a corporate lease. She needed reliable transportation for what was about to happen.
On Monday, September 8, 2008, around lunchtime, Adeline was sitting in the nursery, unboxing the baby monitor, when her mother called from the master bathroom, through the bedroom across the hall.
“Adeline!”
She ran in and found her mother clutching her bulging stomach. “I’m having contractions.”
“Just breathe. They might pass. How close are they?”
*
An hour later, Adeline was behind the wheel of her car, driving her mother to the hospital.
The expectant mother had her eyes closed, whispering. “She’s over a week early.”
Her phone vibrated, and she answered it. “Sam. She’s coming.”
*
But he didn’t get home in time. Adeline, however, was there to see her mother holding her infant form, the glow on her face, the twinkle in her eyes. It was the happiest thing she had ever seen.
Adeline knew it was about time to go. She made a deal with herself: she would stay one more night.
Her mother’s eyes were still closed the next morning when she leaned over the hospital bed and kissed her on the head. She lingered a long moment over the bassinet, staring down at herself, thinking about what an unexpected life awaited that young child.
As she was walking out the front door of the hospital, her father was rushing in, gasping for breath, his clothes disheveled. Geneva was nine hours ahead. He must have caught the red-eye.
The LHC would go live later today. He had missed both births, but his life was about to change nevertheless.
In the used Camry, Adeline drove to Draeger’s Market on University Drive, at the corner of Santa Cruz, and made her way to the bakery section. The woman behind the counter spotted her, set down a pastry bag, and wiped the excess icing on her hands on a white apron.
“What can I get you, dear?”
“I’d like a birthday cake.”
The woman plopped an order pad on the metal counter and clicked a pen, ready to take notes. “Size?”
“The largest you have.”