Chapter 1

Clever

Carolyn Pierce sat in her office chair nursing Paul. Bill was changing John on what used to be her desk and was now the boys’ changing table. It was Sunday morning, and they were -- for the moment -- ahead of schedule. Still, as it was the day for the boys’ baptism, they really had to get to church on time. That put some stress on her.

“Are you done?” she asked Paul, “or do you think you’re merely taking a break? I’ve got news for you. You’re done.” Bill, hearing her and finished himself, pivoted. He took Paul from her, pivoted again, laid him in the middle of the desk, picked up John, pivoted a third time, and delivered him to her. While he was doing that, she put in a pad and latched the left side of her nursing bra; then she opened the right. John rooted for that nipple and started to suck as though they’d been depriving him.

A mother nursing her child was entitled to rest in total contentment. Absolutely nothing and nobody took precedence, and she was entitled to tell them so. But a mother nursing one of her twins didn’t have that luxury. At least Bill was here. He’d deal with Paul while she was dealing with John.

When she had told him that she’d nurse the baby and showed him the studies that this was best for the child, he’d sworn he would support her actions and take up any slack. And, she would have to admit, he did his best. He might curse when she elbowed him at night to answer the crying, but he answered it. And he didn’t curse her. He never suggested that she should get up instead of him. But, as often as not, one boy’s crying would become a duet; both parents would have to be up.

And Bill spent fifty hours away from home between the work and the commute -- more in busy weeks or when the EL broke down. If the twins could keep two parents occupied, they could keep one parent frantic.

This morning, though, there were two parents. They ate breakfast in shifts. The kids were fed, changed and dressed. Then John was changed again and dressed in another outfit which hadn’t had any yellow shit leaked into it. She had expressed two bottles the previous night which they brought with them. They actually got to church before the choir was due to climb from the basement into the choir loft. The choir all gathered around the kids in their carriers. Most of those who were already seated in the pews came down to join them.

“Wasn’t it clever of her to have twins?” Sharon asked. “Now, when Bill is holding a baby, she has one to hold herself.” She didn’t feel clever. She felt like a milch cow, a sleep-deprived milch cow.

“I don’t think I had anything to do with their being twins. I think that’s Bill’s fault.”

“Fault?” Gladys asked. “They’re adorable.” Well, if she thought they were so cute, she could change them. “But does one parent determine it? Bruce?” Bruce Patterson, when he wasn’t being a bass, was a professor of biology. He was the choir’s resident expert on all things biological.

“Well, really, it’s the wrong family -- not the Pierces, Mammalia.” Well she was definitely a mammal these days. “I’m a herp. Lizard females lay eggs and any males in the vicinity fertilize them externally.” Right now, that sounded like a great idea. No nine months of clumsiness. “Are they identical or fraternal?” Couldn’t he tell them apart.? Males!

“Fraternal.”

“Then, I’m afraid, you can’t put the blame on Bill. Fraternal twins come from two separate ova. The female -- you -- produces two ova the same month.” He was taking Bill’s side, just as you’d expect from a man.

“Now!” Miss Armbruster said, and the choir obediently filed up the stairs into the choir loft. She and Bill got into a pew near the front. Soon, the prelude sounded through the sanctuary.

If they didn’t pay particular attention to the sermon, if she stayed seated once when the congregation rose for a hymn, they had their priorities. Finally, at the end of the service, they were called down front. She and Bill had first thought to ask the Hagopians to be god parents. When they found they would have twins, they’d decided on two sets of godparents. So, there were six of them standing down in front of Reverend Bob Lawrence. The ritual wasn’t all that long, and she’d heard it all before.