"How did you do it?" asked Petra. "How did you give up your child?"
"You weren't 'given up,'" said Mother. "You were taken. Most of the time I managed to believe it was all for a good cause. The other times I cried. It wasn't death because you were still alive. I was proud of you. I missed you. You were good company almost from your first word. But so ambitious!"
Petra smiled a little at that.
"You're married now," said Mother. "Ambition for yourself is over. It's now ambition for your children."
"I just want them to be happy."
"That is something you can't do for them. So don't set that as your goal."
"I don't have a goal, Mother."
"That's nice. Then your heart will never break."
Mother looked at her with a deadpan expression.
Petra laughed a little. "You know, when I've been away for a while, I forget that you know everything."
Mother smiled. "Petra, I can't save you from anything. But I want to. I would if I could. Does that help? To know that somebody wants you to be happy?"
"More than you know, Mother."
She nodded. Tears slipped down her cheeks. "Going off into space. It feels like closing yourself in your own coffin. I know! But that's how it feels to me. I just know that I'm going to lose you, as sure as death. You know it too. That's why you're out here saying good-bye to Yerevan?"
"To Earth, Mother. Yerevan's the least of it."
"Well, Yerevan won't miss you. Cities never do. They go on and we don't make any difference to them at all. That's what I hate about cities."
And that's true of the human race, too, thought Petra. "I think it's a good thing, that life goes on. Like water in a pail. Take some out, the rest fills in."
"When it's my child that's gone, nothing fills in," said Mother.
Petra knew that Mother was referring to the years that she spent without Petra, but what flashed into Petra's mind was the six babies they still hadn't found. The two ideas put together made the loss of those babies--if they even existed--too painful to contain. Petra began to cry. She hated crying.
Her mother put her arms around her. "I'm sorry, Pet," she said. "I wasn't even thinking. I was missing one child, and you have so many and you don't even know whether they're alive or dead."
"But they aren't even real to me," said Petra. "I don't know why I'm crying. I've never even met them."
"We're hungry for our children," said Mother. "We need to take care of them, once we bring them into existence."
"I didn't even get to do that," said Petra. "Other women got to bear all but the one. And I'm going to lose him." And suddenly her life felt so terrible it could not be borne. She sobbed as her mother held her.
"Oh, my poor girl," her mother kept murmuring. "Your life breaks my heart."
"How can I complain like this?" said Petra, her voice high with crying. "I've been part of some of the greatest events in history."
"When your babies need you, history doesn't bring much comfort."
And as if on cue, there was a faint sound of a baby crying inside the flat. Mother made as if to go, but Petra stopped her. "Bean will get her." She used the hem of her shirt to dab at her eyes.
"You can tell from the crying which baby it is?"
"Couldn't you?"
"I never had two infants at the same time, let alone three. There aren't many multiple births in our family."
"Well, I've found the perfect way to have nonuplets. Get eight other women to help." She managed a feeble laugh at her own black humor.