To Build a Home

19 | A Constellation of Collisions

Noah always cried when I tried to leave the house in the morning. I could hear him behind the front door as I walked across the lawn towards Darren's house, screaming until his face turned red, Anna trying to calm him down with her sweet princess voice. It wasn't until I was in the truck and the ignition was rumbling that I was sure the cries that I heard were just phantom echoes of the baby, my mind's way of guilting me. Noah, by this point, I told myself over and over, was already consoled, eating a banana or singing along to his favorite cartoons.

Anna came up with a plan to distract Noah when I left, to make it easier on all of us. The first day she sprawled a long white sheet on the back patio and dipped Noah's hands in paint. He crawled around, smashing blues and pinks into the paper like fireworks. The second day, she put the music on so loud that the walls vibrated with Disney's greatest hits. They were dancing to "Hakuna Matata" with the baby disco lights flashing on the living room walls and ceiling when I snuck out the front door.

This morning, Anna brought her parents' dog to the house. A friendly French Bulldog named Archie, he was tan with a black frowning snout and pink, pointy ears. He ran around the house sniffing everything, including Noah's sticky hands and feet. We weren't sure how they had gotten sticky so early in the morning, but we let Archie clean them instead of wasting the wipes.

But somehow, Archie was not enough. Each time I slowly backed out of the room, at the exact moment my face could no longer be seen from the living room, Noah raced to the foyer with a squeal, threatening tears. He'd hug my leg and insist on being picked up. I'd walk him back to Anna and try to get Archie excited all over again. On the fourth try, Noah tripped over the dog and crawled through his sobs, desperate not to lose track of me. I couldn't close the door.

Darren honked from his truck, unaware of the emotional gymnastics being performed in the house. Anna looked at me with sad eyes, but tried to convince me everything would be fine if I just left while he was crying. Noah would forget the tears by lunchtime. I poked my head out the front door and signaled to Darren that I needed a minute. Then I went into the master bedroom and dug the baby carrier out of a box marked "Keep?"

"Do you know how to use this thing?" I asked Anna back in the foyer, holding the contraption up in the air like a disassembled item from Ikea missing its instructions.

Anna laughed and took it from me, Noah watching from the floor, Archie licking his face. She slipped my arms through the straps and then buckled the back. It was like a backward bookbag with a pocket for Noah to sit in against my stomach. She tightened some things and adjusted some other things, the carrier like an octopus of straps and belts. When she was satisfied, Anna lifted Noah and dropped him in the pouch. He giggled and tilted his head back against my chest to look up at my chin and make sure I was there.

We all left the house, Archie nipping at our heels. Darren was clearly confused and stepped out of the truck. He couldn't help but laugh.

"We have a new intern," I said.

"I hope he's better than the last one," Darren joked.

I slapped his shoulder.

"You can't keep him in that thing in the car," he said.

"I know. I just had to test it. Never had an intern before."

We said goodbye to Anna and strapped Noah into the car seat. We headed to Amelia's house in Spring Hill. The back of the truck was full of wood panels and winter-green paint cans shifting with every bump and turn. We weren't going to perform any work, but Darren wanted to drop it off so it was ready when the crew finished up their current job. I also had a few framed prints from the antique store in the back seat next to Noah.