May
Before
Chapter One
Months later, this is the moment Maya returns to when she tries to pinpoint when it all started.
Her quickening heart rate. Her skin stiff from layers of foundation, powder, and blush. The blur of colors surrounding her, from the burnt-orange couch she will be on in seconds, to the buttery-yellow camera lights, to her emerald-green wrap dress—the first real piece of clothing she's put on in weeks.
Carol, one of the production assistants, gently pats Maya on the shoulder. "You're on in ten."
"Great! Let's do this!"
She can feel the sweat pooling at her hairline, threatening to mess up her concealer. She has to get it together. There's too much riding on this.
All around her, people walk with purpose, clutching clipboards and yelling instructions into headphones. It's jarring to be in the real world again, one that isn't primarily made of burp cloths, onesies, and white-noise machines.
Though a part of her relishes the brief respite from her post-baby life, another part wants to immediately take a cab home to her newborn, Shaan. This is the longest she's ever been away from him.
Before she has the chance to go down that rabbit hole, Carol approaches her again, a sheepish look on her face. "I gotta tell ya, my sister loves your Instagram! She also works in tech and always sends me your posts. In fact, she sent me one from just this morning and was freaking out that I was going to meet you!"
Carol tilts the phone toward Maya to show her the photo in question, which now has over fifty thousand likes. She posted it just a couple hours ago. In the picture, Maya's wearing a terry cloth robe, one hand on selfie-duty, the other holding a cup of coffee. Shaan is asleep on her chest, his fists tiny and tight like they were in her ultrasounds. The picture's caption: T minus two hours until my Today show interview!
Maya physically restrains herself from cringing at her own post. "That's so nice of her! Please tell your sister she made my day!"
She makes a show of taking her own phone out. "You also just reminded me to turn this off before I go on, so thank you." Just as she's about to put it on airplane mode, it chirps with an incoming text from her best friend, Alaina.
Alaina: So excited for you! We have it recording on the DVR. The kids are bragging about you to everyone.
Maya: Aw, you are the best. Hope I make you all proud.
Alaina: You already have. And don't worry. You'll prove those assholes wrong.
* * *
"Five minutes!" Carol announces. "You ready?"
"Ready," Maya lies.
She has no choice but to be ready. It doesn't matter that she's slept six hours in total over the last two days. It doesn't matter that she's wearing mesh underwear, her breasts are sore, and all she wants to do is crawl into bed for a decade. What matters is that the next thirty minutes could help her reclaim some semblance of functionality in her disaster of a life.
On a screen behind the set, Maya watches the commercials airing before her segment: ads for organic tampons, a nontoxic household cleaner, a dietary supplement helping postpartum mothers "bounce back from that baby fat!" and a female deodorant that's somehow supposed to be effective and empowering.
A series of products, each geared toward women, with the promise that this will be the one to get their lives back on track.
Yes, because nothing says "empowered woman" like female deodorant! Maya thinks to herself. Also I'm wearing that one right now, and it's not doing shit.
Carol makes a "go" signal and whispers, "This is it!"
Maya clenches her fists. It's happening. It's really happening.
