Free Roost by Ali Bryan Page A

extended hand, frees herself up to the fifth floor. The doctor politely declines the grandpa’s knee or anyone’s help, and he awkwardly clambers up and out on his own. One by one the elevator empties of its passengers. The grandpa grunts under the weight of a hefty woman in a lab coat. She looks embarrassed as she rolls onto the fifth floor.
    It’s my turn at last, and just in time because it feels like the area is getting smaller and I might do something rash to distract myself like nibble the carpet or hang upside down from the safety bars lining the elevator’s perimeter. The grandpa tells me to “hop on.”
    When I hurl myself onto the fifth floor, I land at my brother’s feet. He looks down at me and the puddle of drool thatshot out of my mouth on impact, pauses as though thinking of something to say, then turns and goes down the hall.
    “Spit happens,” I holler after him as I pull myself to my feet.
    He shakes his head and rounds the corner.
    The grandpa calls up from the elevator shaft, a little exasperated, “A little help down here?” and an orderly comes to his rescue.
    I walk down the hall, where women with gnarly robes and engorged breasts roam around looking for ice chips and free muffins, and arrive at Allison-Jean’s room. The baby is ten pounds. They’ve named her Emma. She is bald and wears a frilly dress and matching socks.
    “Why don’t you put her in a sleeper?” I suggest to Dan. “Don’t you think she’d be more comfortable?”
    “She’s having her picture taken,” he says irritably. He, understandably, looks tired.
    “Your breath stinks,” I tell him.
    He looks at me but says nothing as Allison-Jean emerges from the bathroom. I tell her congratulations. She looks like a drug addict. Her face is covered in broken blood vessels. She picks up a stack of papers and begins filling them out with a pen when a nurse comes in the room with painkillers. I wish it were like communion and we could all take part. Dan hands her water and she swallows the contents of the cup loudly.
    “How’s your pain?” the nurse asks.
    “About a five,” Allison-Jean responds.
    They continue to converse and the nurse nods and records things on a chart and I spy through the curtain at the patient next door. Her face is puffy and pale and she has broken blood vessels along her jaw line like Allison-Jean. Her baby sits next to her in a plastic bin. I wonder if she is alone.
    “Did you hear what I said?” Dan asks.
    The girl’s arm is long and stick-like. It appears she is reaching for her glasses.
    “What?”
    “I said her middle name is JANICE.”
    “Right.”
Oh Danny, you shouldn’t have
.
    Dan shakes his head and Emma begins to whimper and I can only assume it’s because just hours ago she had to travel out of Allison-Jean’s vagina, and now she’s been forced to wear a small headband that looks like a garter.
    “Don’t you want to hold her?”
    Allison-Jean appears to have fallen asleep in six seconds. Her mouth is open.
    “Do I want to?” I reply, stunned. “Yes, of course I want to hold her.”
    Emma is all face. Her cheeks spill out over her eyes and chin. There is a lot of her.
    “She’s adorable,” I say, gently unwrapping the receiving blanket to examine the rest of her features. Her shoulders are furry. Dan scooches in beside me on the heater I’m using as a seat.
    “Allison-Jean disagrees, but I think she looks like Liam,” he says.
    My brother and I stare at his offspring. The only one who will never know her grandma. It makes me sad. Soon enough, Joan probably won’t remember her. I am thinking about this, attempting to re-swaddle Emma, when her lips curl into the shape of a smile. It only lasts for a second, but my brother and I both see it. We look at each other.
    “Mom,” we say, together.

20
    When I arrive home from the hospital the house is a mess
. Dad is watching curling highlights on TSN and criticizing Kevin Martin.
    “Where are the kids?”
    Dad points