think she literally just takes pictures and looks good. Full time. That’s it.”
Kait lifted her sunglasses and leaned across the table, confirming that Liz was looking at the correct Instagram account.
“Oh yeah, I’ve definitely seen her before,” Liz said, hitting the follow button.
“I think she lives in one of those massive rowhomes off Cumberland.”
“Those are the rowhomes we all thought we’d be living in when we daydreamed about living in a rowhome.” Liz took a bite of her croissant. Flakes of pastry shot in all directions. “Shit, I’m getting crumbs on the baby.”
She reached over to brush off her daughter’s blanket. Sasha was unfazed. She was always unfazed. All day long she napped, she stared, she ate, she stared, she napped again – repeat, repeat, repeat. Liz hated to ever sound like she was complaining, especially when friends had horror stories about newborns who constantly cried or who (she felt she might jinx it by even thinking the word) had colic and stayed up screaming at all hours of the night, but sometimes it was dull. With half her maternity leave already behind her, she felt like the days had been endless but she had nothing to show for it. The whole nine months leading up to it, she imagined long walks in the neighborhood, trips to the zoo with other mom friends, girls lunches, maybe learning a language or reupholstering that old wingback chair. Instead it was just napping, feeding, staring with a hefty sprinkle of binge-watching to make her feel even guiltier.
“Are you just so in love with her?”
Liz realized she must have been zoning out, staring at Sasha. Her dimples appeared with even just the slightest facial expression and the small red birthmark on her cheek they affectionately called her strawberry had become such a part of her, Liz couldn’t imagine her without it.
“Oh totally. She’s a dream.”
“Maybe you could start your own Instagram account with Sasha. She could be your little mini influencer buddy. You could collab with this chick.” Kait jabbed her finger at her phone, the grid of pink and white images still up on the screen.
Liz rolled her eyes. “Yeah I can definitely see me and @CityMamaDreams buddying up. Just two peas in a pod. Def similar aesthetics.”
“I mean, I know you’re joking, but she gets free stuff all the time. And if you’re her friend, you could get free stuff all the time. Trickle down economics.”
Sasha let out a whimper.
“Want me to pick her up? She is just so chill.”
Liz nodded and Kait reached in to pick up the baby, bouncing her and pacing along the sidewalk near their al fresco table. Liz picked up her phone scrolling through @CityMamaDreams account. A picture of her with her gorgeous baby in Penn Treaty. Mom and baby again but she’s wearing workout gear and the baby’s in a jogging stroller. The baby sitting next to a Sweetgreen salad.
“Her hair is just always flawless right? I bet she has one of those Dyson Airwrap things.” For having limited experience with kids, Kait had the bounce and rock motion down pat.
“This is so weird but – this lady’s baby looks different in every picture.”
Kait leaned over to look at the screen and shrugged. “Yeah I guess kids change so fast when they’re little you know?”
“I guess.”
Liz scrolled a bit more and tapped a random photo – mom with her baby, sitting in the white courtyard of Suraya. The baby was about four months with a small curl of brown hair on her forehead and bright, hazel eyes. Liz scrolled further up and picked a picture from a few weeks later. The same brown curl sat on the baby’s forehead but there as something about the eyes – they seemed darker, more almond shaped. Her pediatrician had mentioned that the eye color isn’t solidified until their first birthday anyway. That was probably it.
Another scroll – the baby laughing in a hammock at Spruce Street River Park. Her hair seemed straighter.
Scroll. The baby looking up at a leaf in Palmer Park, a draft latte in the foreground of the picture and the requisite hashtag letting followers know this was an #ad. The baby didn’t have her curl at all. She had a mole on her forehead that wasn’t in the other pictures.
Scroll. The baby is laughing at the Kinetic Sculpture Derby and wearing glasses over her blue eyes.
Scroll. The baby sits on a picnic table in a pop up beer garden with blonde hair. The caption reads, “loving life as a #boymom.”
Scroll – the baby has braids and is licking cream cheese from a bagel.
Scroll – the baby is four and trying on mom’s hat.
Scroll – the baby is twins near a firepit at Fette Sau.
Scroll – the baby has a black bob and is dressed as Gritty for Halloween.
Scroll – the baby is, the baby isn’t, the baby is, the baby was, the baby –
“Liz?”
She looked up in response to her friend, the trance of the scroll broken.
“Are you okay?”
“God, sorry. I was just looking at this woman’s feed and I don’t think this is the same baby. It’s like every picture is a different baby actually.”
“Liz, she only has one baby. It’s probably just the lighting.”
Liz wanted to believe her and handed back her phone, unable to shake the feeling that something was off.
“Where’s Sasha?”
Kait stared back at her, empty handed. She picked up a chunk of the croissant.
“Who?”
“Sasha – where is Sasha?”
“The Obama’s daughter? I think in college probably but who knows where…”
“No my daughter – my infant daughter. Kait, you were just holding her.”
Kait stared back blankly. With a look of pity in her eyes and confusion in her voice, she gently told her friend,
“Oh Liz. You don’t have a daughter.”
Liz rose from the table and frantically raced down the sidewalk, stopping every stroller and checking the faces of every passing baby. A ping in her pocket alerted her that @CityMamaDreams had just posted a new image –
Panting, sweating, she pulled out her phone and scrolled.
‘It’s fall ya’ll! #fishtown #uwishunu #phillylife #phillylyfe #girlmom #girlboss #girltrepreneur.”
The hashtags continued endlessly but Liz couldn’t look away from the beautiful baby perched on a pumpkin at Greensgrow, her dimples shining on the screen, a strawberry birthmark on her cheek.
