The beginning of the friendship passed quickly; before they realized it, they were in the middle of it. Miscommunication or awkwardness did not exist between them, just the intimacy of connection. Some days they sat beside each other in silence, and other times they spoke over each other, finishing each other’s sentences. Almost always, they would sit close enough so that Leah could lay her hand on Therese’s belly. They talked a lot about babies and Leah confided how much she wanted to have a child. Sometimes there was desperation in her voice and Therese couldn’t help but wonder if this was the same way her own mother had sounded. When she tried to encourage Leah, all she would say was that she did not know if she was capable of caring for another person. Therese sensed the depth of her wounds and the stories came slowly, and affected Leah physically, almost as though she was reliving them with each word. They were about a father who, when Leah was nine, betrayed her innocence. The number rang in Therese’s head. Dressed to the nines. Nine lives. Cloud Nine. But for Leah, nine was when her world fell apart and, even though Therese had never met her own father, she felt an instant bond. Sometimes they would hold hands and not speak at all. Those moments were both the saddest and happiest for Therese.

They spent a lot of time talking about the baby, and Therese confided that her favorite part of pregnancy was the frequent flutters she experienced throughout the day. Sometimes she wondered if she had swallowed a caterpillar and that a beautiful Monarch would float out of her instead of a baby. Leah sat close and Therese loved that she smelled like wild flowers. She laid her head on Therese’s shoulder and closed her eyes, smiling each time the baby kicked her hand.

One day they were sitting in their usual position, the sound of crackling bark coming from the fireplace. Normally, Therese would stare into the flames, drawn in by the vibrancy of the colors, but today she was tired. She closed her eyes and tilted her head back, sinking into the softness of the leather. It always seemed that when Therese was calm, the baby was energized, and today it was twirling and twisting and swirling and then, suddenly, Leah pulled her hand away. Therese jumped, startled by the sudden separation.

“What?” Therese asked, looking alarmed.

“Nothing,” Leah said.

“Tell me.”

“What is Tim like? I mean really like?” Therese lifted her body upward and, as she began to speak, Leah reached out to hold her hand, like a child about to cross a dangerous intersection. “I’ve told you. He works at a supermarket. He likes to cook. He is devoted to his mother.”

“I need to know more. What kind of man is he? When you look into his eyes, what do you see?” Leah clutched her hand tighter.