“No worries. There’s an old football game on downstairs. I’ve got this,” I said, lifting my eyebrows and glancing down at the limp, pink, perfect bundle against my chest.
Leslie smiles affectionately at Marisa before she turns her twinkling green eyes on me. “Thank you, Hayden.”
I head downstairs thinking about how lucky my brother is to have a woman like Leslie. I’ll be proud to call her my official sister after their wedding. Resuming my place on the couch, I allow the slow, rhythmic breaths of Marisa to calm my nerves over what I’m about to do this evening.
The truth is I’ve wanted to hold Marisa all day. She is my moment in reality that reminds me there are bigger struggles happening in this world than my own. And that there are people who need me, even if they are only thirteen pounds. This perfect, fussy baby has become my safety net. My anchor. Holding her against my heart reminds me exactly why I need to always keep it beating.
EASY FAVOUR
“Vilma, I need you!” Leslie’s voice peels loudly through the phone line.
“What? What is it?” My voice rises at the end and I shoot up out of my wheelie office chair, clutching the phone tightly to my ear. “Is something wrong with the baby?”
“Oh no, no. Marisa is fine. I mean, colicky as always and killing me with the no sleep thing, but healthy as a fussy baby horse.”
My face scrunches in confusion. “A what?”
“Healthy as a horse? Do the Brits not have that reference? Never mind. I have something serious to ask you, Vilma.”
I sigh, “Leslie, why do you insist on calling me by my full name? You’re seriously the only one. You haven’t been in the office for a couple of months and I rather got used to being called just Vi again.”
“I love Vilma…It reminds me of Scooby Doo,” she giggles and I realise how much I’ve missed that sound around here.
I drop back down on my chair and begin spinning around in slow circles. “I still have no idea what you’re going on about,” I reply. I never watched telly much growing up and Leslie can’t seem to wrap her brain around that.
“Scooby Doo and the gang! You seriously need to catch up on your American cartoons. I know they play them in England…Hey! Did you get my happy birthday text yesterday? You never replied.”
“Oh shite, yes. I did. Sorry…My brothers showed up, so I got distracted.”
“Sexy soccer brothers?” she asks with a provocative purr to her speech.
Groaning in disgust, I answer, “It’s football over here, mate. You’ve been in London long enough now to use the proper term. Now, did you call for a reason, or just to distract me from my very serious work to educate me on animated American telly and tell me I have hot brothers?”
“Uptight British—” Leslie grumbles, but I cut her off.
“Oi darling, don’t you have a go at me! You’ve left me stranded here at the office because you had to go and have a cute, perfect baby with that sinfully sexy fiancé of yours. I’m not to be trifled with right now. I’ve had to deal with Benji, Hector, and Roger all on my own. Plus two trips to China since you left.”
“Fine, fine…Viiiiii,” she drawls out the I in an exaggerated, smug British accent.
Leslie and I have been working side by side for several years now. She was in charge of working directly with the Chinese factories that make our camera bag designs until her recent maternity leave. I’ve had to pick up the slack ever since. Leslie, Hector, and I are the three designers. We work on various satchels, wallets, clutches, and totes that are all technology and photography friendly. There are a handful of other clerical people we work alongside, as well as with our boss, Roger.
“Thank you for taking care of the fort while I am away. You know I love you.” She makes obnoxious kissy noises into the receiver. “Okay, stop distracting me. I don’t want to talk about work…I have a very serious question. Are you ready?”
“Ready,” I answer.
“Are you sure?”
“Sure.”
“Are you prepared?”
“Primed and poised,” I quip.
“Do you have a formal evening gown?” she rushes out in one breath.
My brow furrows at this query. Leslie excels at random, but this still surprises me. “This seems like an incredibly peculiar question.”
“Well, do you?”
Sighing heavily, I recall the white floor-length evening gown I bought last year for New Year’s Eve. Normally I despise wearing white with my blonde hair because I feel washed out. But this dress is a diamond white that has just enough glimmer to make my alabaster skin look positively luminous.
“I do happen to have a dress,” I reply sadly at the fact that I still have never worn it anywhere. It’s tragic, really. Pierce was a DJ who worked at a posh nightclub in Chigwell and they were hosting a huge formal party. Then the cheating rumours began and the whole Gareth blowout happened the day before New Year’s Eve. Leslie tried to strong arm me into going just to spite him. But instead, I had a cosy night in with my main man, Bruce.