The baby stared, as babies do. A look of disbelief in its shiny dark eyes. A look that verged on outrage and those eyes were firmly on the older lady’s face, like a tight thread pulled them together. Of particular interest to the baby was her mouth.; a large mouth full of raggedy yellowing teeth and circled with the flaky remnants of a waxy lipstick. It was a bold fuschia that matched her even bolder shiny blouse. She was smiling but the baby was not convinced. As her lips stretched and contracted in a cartoonish fashion, the baby’s soft pink bottom lip suddenly protruded and quivered and soon then the tears spilt past the row of long dark lashes.
“Oh darling! Don’t cry! Oh no! It’s OK. It’s a good day. Your birthday. Yes it is!” The older lady leant back and gently lifted the wriggling boy into the air and towards his mother. Her focus shifted.
“Does he need a nappy change?”
“No.” The mother tried not to snap but feared she failed. Even before this incident she was feeling the growing creep of worry and concern. Was there enough food? Was everyone getting along? Did the Bluey cake made by local bakery look enough like said popular carton dog. She swiftly moved the baby to her hip as was her practiced habit now and the wailing simmered down to the occasional sob as she started moving smoothly foot to foot. The baby’s look, however, did remain cautious and pensive while the older lady remained quiet, gaze still in place, waiting for an answer.
The mother sighed, conscious of the sharp knocks at the front door. More guests. How many did she invite? Too many? The house felt crowded. So many people in one place after so long. Even though the faces and voices were all warm and familiar to her, a tightness spread into her throat. It was like old times but not in the comfortable way she remembered and loved. Still, so many were trying to convince themselves. “Just like old times”. “So nice to be getting back to normal again”. Like mantras, they were conjuring it into reality.
She knew she had to say something, anything, before she headed to the door.
“Don’t take it personally mum. He’s just not used to seeing you without a mask on. He’s never seen your mouth before.”
That mouth gaped open now, dumbly and unattractively.
“What? Rubbish! He’s a baby! What does he know?”
The mother shrugged in an offhand manner but really wanted to roll her eyes.
“I’ll be back in a moment mum,” she said in a tired voice. “I have to get the door.”