“Now he is. His heart rate dropped, and the cord was around his neck. He could have … but the doctors were there. He didn’t. He’s fine. He’s amazing, Pops. I wish you’d been here. That kid is a … he’s a crescendo, you know? That sweet little fucker snuck up on me.” His voice broke and he started to cry again. Poppy had seen her father cry before, but never when it was just the two of them in the same room.

“Did Michael show up?”

Her father shook his head no. Maybe it was the drugs, maybe it was long overdue, but she was rocked by a deep, hard seizure of sadness. She’d been convinced that Michael would come home before the baby was born; she’d fantasized all kinds of scenarios.

“Ann was all drugged up. She called for him. She wanted him to be there. Anyway, come see your nephew.”

The baby’s warm, pink body rested against Ann’s bare chest, still curled up in fetal position, his bare rear sticking into the air. He was so new. Her mom sat at the edge of the bed wearing a red bandana. Her face was drenched in sweat, as if she’d had the baby herself. She was glowing, full of purpose. “Oh honey, he was sunny-side up. It got scary there for a while.” Poppy couldn’t believe she had been dancing with Kurt and Angie while the baby fought for his life. “Your sister was a trooper.” Her mom ran her hand through Ann’s matted hair. Poppy saw a closeness between them she’d never noticed, like they were wrapped in the same light. They even looked more alike. “It was incredibly painful, but you’ll forget, you will.”

“The drugs helped.” Ann smiled, dreamy from whatever they’d given her. “Look, Pops.”

His face was blotched and puffy, his skull misshapen from the forceps, his hair thick and black. Wavy, colorful vibrations spread off of him and out of his alien cool eyes, wet with the ointment the nurses put on them. She placed her hand on him; for so long he had been part of Ann’s subterranean world. It felt so intimate, like she was touching her sister, too. And Michael, she supposed. “Oh, hey little man,” Poppy said, crying now, overcome.

“His name is Noah,” Ann said. “It means ‘comfort.’”

Noah. What a nice name. “Hey little man, welcome to the universe,” said Poppy. She spoke slowly. His fingers were so small! One, two, three, four, five. “Welcome to this cycle of life.”

Ann pulled a twig out of Poppy’s hair. “Why do you have dirt all over your face?”

Poppy shrugged. Her ankle throbbed and needed to be looked at.

Her mom stood up and put her fingers on Poppy’s chin, trying to look into Poppy’s eyes. “Honey, are you high? Your pupils are big as saucers.”