This was her second chance-a chance to show Leslie that she was loved.
Never mind that Leslie rejected her again and again. Instead, Molly just poured as much love as she could into her little granddaughter.
The baby’s hunger got the best of her and she began to make small mewling sounds, rooting with her rosebud mouth for a nipple. Molly didn’t want to be this baby’s mother-she wanted to be Leslie’s mother, and she wanted Leslie back, to mother her own baby. Jessica belonged to her mother, just as Leslie would always be hers, wherever she was on this bright summer morning.
Molly headed toward the kitchen to see if there was any stored breast milk in the freezer. Leslie pumped her milk so she could go out on with her friends or on dates.
Molly, concerned about the concentrated efforts of the baby in her arms to find food, found a plastic bag with stored milk and removed it with one hand, balancing Jessie on her shoulder with the other.
It was only when she closed the freezer and started for the sink that she saw the note flutter down to the floor. It hadn’t been there yesterday, before or after their argument, and when she peered down at it, she saw that it was written in Leslie’s large, girlish scrawl.
“Maybe Mommy’s coming home soon, Jess,” Molly said under her breath, not believing it even as she carefully bent to retrieve the note.
It was from Leslie, and it contained news that she didn’t think she could ever come to terms with. She didn’t know if Leslie would ever come to terms it, either, even twenty years down the road. Did anyone ever come to terms with the choices they made when they were young? She wondered.
“Poor Jessie,” Molly whispered as the baby cried, protesting the plastic nipple.
Molly rocked and rocked, wondering if the world of hurt she lived in would ever end.
Leslie stood under the hot shower, her breasts heavy and aching, a steady stream of thin, whitish milk running down her belly with the water, uselessly circling the drain. Her tears mixed with it, too, as she leaned her forehead on the tile, sobbing for everything she had left behind.
“Les?” It was Ali’s voice from behind the bathroom door.
“Coming!” she called, turning off the water.
She heard him getting ready and smiled. The suit she had chosen for him was a deep, charcoal gray, not quite as dark as his eyes. She used a big, white bath towel to dry off, just patting her tender breasts. Wrapping her hair in the towel, she turned and straightened her dress on the hanger.
He wanted her to wear white-and so it was white, a knee-length, satin and lace combination that made her feel dizzy just looking at it. She couldn’t believe she was going to stand beside him wearing it.
“Hurry up,” he called, knocking on the door again. “I have to use the bathroom, too.”
The sight of her long, auburn hair as she whipped off the towel gave her a twinge-her body remembered the soft red fuzz covering her baby’s head, and just the
thought sent tiny rivulets of milk flowing down over her belly. Leslie bit her lip and stood on the towel, using the hair dryer to drown out the noise in her head.
“I have to go!” The door opened and Ali came in, stepping around her nude form toward the toilet. He was wearing just his boxer-briefs. “Sorry, couldn’t wait.”
“What time is it?” she asked, turning off the hair dryer and watching him shake off the last few drops.
“We still have a couple hours before we have to be there,” he said, edging her out of the way with his hip and washing his hands. He looked at her reflection in the mirror, his eyes on her breasts. “Are you still leaking?”
“I can’t help it,” she said, putting her palms over her nipples. There was just no stopping the aching flow.
“I’m sorry,” he said, putting his arms around her from behind, his hands over hers, cupping her breasts. “We will have so many more children. I promise you.”
She nodded, closing her eyes and feeling his body pressing into hers, but she didn’t believe it. Jessica was going to be okay-her mother would care for the baby, probably much better than she had ever cared for Leslie, if these last few months were any indication. Certainly better than she could care for Jessie herself.
Besides, Ali was the best thing that had ever happened to her.
“I just-you’re sure that your parents couldn’t ever accept-?”
“Leslie!” He put his dark head down on her shoulder. “We’ve been over this a hundred times. They would disown me. It’s bad enough that you’re not Muslim and we’re getting married in a court house!”
“I know.” She turned in his arms, putting her head on his chest.
“You know what happened to my brother,” he said, rocking gently. “A child out of wedlock, one that didn’t even belong to me? My parents would never speak to me again… and who would care for them, then?”
“I know, I know,” she whispered, closing her eyes against it.
“I thought you were sure?” he asked, lifting her chin to look at her. “That this is what you wanted?”
“I am.” She went up on tiptoe to kiss him. “It is.”
This was her sacrifice, and she had agreed to make it for him-for them. For a life, a future together.
“They’re so heavy,” Ali remarked, his hands moving over her breasts, his eyes bright.
Leslie winced. “I know. I’m afraid I’m going to leak all over my dress, even with nursing pads.”
He looked at her, aghast. “Do they hurt?”
She nodded. “It’s just because they’re so full. I wish I’d thought to bring my pump.”
“Maybe I can help?” He was smiling, watching the sticky-sweet milk beading on her fat, pink nipples. He touched one with his thumb, spreading the thin liquid over her areola.
“How?” she asked, shivering at his touch. His hands were magic, and she could never resist them.
“It’s not like I haven’t done it before,” he said with a smile, steering her over to the toilet and sitting her down on the lid.
She smiled, giving him a bemused look. “What are you doing?”
“Helping,” he said, kneeling between her bare thighs, he lifted one of her heavy breasts in his hand.
She had started fairly small-chested, but her breasts had grown two sizes when she was pregnant, and yet another size when her milk came in. She hadn’t nursed the baby in almost twenty-four hours, and her pale skin was now taut, full to bursting with fluid.
“Oh, god,” she whispered when he put his mouth over her nipple, beginning to suck.
She gasped, watching white droplets pooling at the tip her other nipple as he brought her milk to the surface. The tell-tale tingling sensation in her chest told her that she was really beginning to flow. He was swallowing, faster and faster, his eyes on hers.
Putting her hand in his hair, she watched his mouth work against her breast. He was sucking hard, making little groaning noises in his throat. The pressure was subsiding already, and she breathed a sigh of relief.
“That feels so good,” she murmured, wiggling on the seat. Her pussy was getting wet, watching his mouth pursed around her nipple.
He lifted his head, licking his lips, and she could see how shiny his mouth was from her milk. She leaned in and kissed him, always startled by how sweet and light the taste was.
“I should do this one, too,” he murmured, licking at the fat, pink bud on the other side before latching onto her and beginning to suck. Leslie moaned, reaching for his hand and pressing it between her legs.
He made a sound in his throat, his eyes on hers as he parted her shaved lips with his fingers, finding the tender swell of her clit and rubbing as he continued to suckle at her breast. She could feel her milk flowing full and thick now, a heavy flow that dribbled out of the corners of his mouth. He swallowed and swallowed, and when she looked down, she could see how hard he was through his shorts.