Chương 5
Rachel stared at him.
There it was.
The sentence Eleanor could turn.
The sentence Rachel could imagine hearing in another voice.
I don’t know how much longer Rachel can do this.
Nathan came closer but stopped several feet away.
“I never agreed to take Sophie from you.”
“I believe you.”
He seemed relieved.
“Don’t.”
His relief disappeared.
“I believe you didn’t agree to that,” Rachel said. “I also believe you discussed my ability to care for our daughter with your mother without telling me.”
Nathan looked down.
“Yes.”
“And then you moved her into our house.”
“Yes.”
“And every time she criticized me, I thought I was supposed to be grateful because she was your mother and she was helping.”
He sat on the armchair across from her.
“I messed up.”
Rachel almost laughed.
“That sounds so small.”
“I don’t know what else to call it.”
She looked down at Sophie.
The baby had gone drowsy again, eyelids fluttering between swallows.
“Neither do I.”
They did not sleep in the same room that night.
Rachel stayed in the nursery.
Not because Sophie needed her there.
Because Rachel did.
Nathan knocked once around two.
“You okay?”
“No.”
A pause.
“Do you want anything?”
“No.”
Another pause.
“Okay.”
She heard him walk away.
At four seventeen, Sophie woke.
Rachel changed her in the dim light.
One sock had disappeared.
Rachel searched inside the sleep sack, under the changing pad, beneath the crib.
She found it inside the sleeve of the pajamas Sophie had worn the night before.
Rachel sat on the floor and laughed until tears came.
Then she cried for real.
Quietly.
Not because of Eleanor.
Not exactly.
Because she had spent five months being afraid that any sign of weakness would become evidence.
She had answered every “How are you?” with fine.
She had smiled at the pediatrician.
She had lied to Nathan when he asked whether she was sleeping.
She had hidden in the laundry room because the dryer drowned out the sound of crying.
Not Sophie’s.
Hers.
At some point, without deciding to, Rachel had begun treating motherhood like an examination she could fail if anyone saw the rough draft.
Sophie looked down at her from Rachel’s lap and sneezed.
Rachel wiped her nose.
“Excellent timing.”
Sophie blinked.
Rachel put the sock back on.
At eight the next morning, Nathan made coffee.
Rachel came downstairs carrying Sophie and found him standing in front of the machine in yesterday’s trousers.
He had apparently forgotten to put the mug beneath the spout.
Coffee ran directly into the drip tray.
Rachel watched for several seconds.
“Nathan.”
He looked over.
“What?”
She pointed.
“Damn it.”
He shoved the mug into place too late.
Rachel almost smiled.
He cleaned the mess.
“I’m calling the office.”
“You should go to work.”
“No.”
“Nathan.”
“I’m not leaving you alone today.”
The sentence landed badly.
Rachel set Sophie’s carrier on the table.
“I can be alone.”
“That’s not what I meant.”
“I know, but it’s what you said.”
Nathan closed his eyes.
“Okay. I’m staying home because my mother threatened my wife in our kitchen last night, and I don’t have the emotional capacity to sit in a design meeting pretending I care about a hotel lobby.”
“That’s better.”
“Thank you.”
She poured cereal into a bowl.
Nathan watched her.
“Are you mad at me?”
Rachel looked at him.
“Yes.”
“Okay.”
“I’m also hungry.”
He nodded.
“I can make eggs.”
“I want cereal.”
“Okay.”
He sat.
Rachel ate.
Five minutes passed without conversation.
Her phone began vibrating against the table.
She ignored it.
It stopped.
Then Nathan’s phone vibrated.
He looked.
His expression tightened.
“Family group.”
“Of course.”
Rachel continued eating.
Nathan read silently.
“What?”
He hesitated.
“Mom sent a message.”
Rachel put down her spoon.
“Read it.”
“I don’t think—”
“Read it.”
Nathan exhaled.
“She says, ‘I’m sorry that a private family concern became an ugly public spectacle last night. I acted strongly because I believed Sophie’s safety and Rachel’s health required immediate intervention. I regret the manner, but not my concern. I hope Nathan and Rachel will accept support before the situation becomes more serious.’”
Rachel stared at her cereal.
Nathan put the phone facedown.
“She’s unbelievable.”
Rachel said nothing.
A second vibration came.
Then another.
Nathan looked despite himself.
His face changed.
“What?”
“She attached a screenshot.”
Rachel’s stomach tightened.
“Of what?”
He showed her.
It was a message he had sent his mother seventeen days earlier.
I don’t know how much longer Rachel can do this without real help. She barely sleeps and won’t admit how bad it is. I’m worried she’s going to hit a wall.
Below it, Eleanor had added nothing.
She did not need to.
Rachel read it twice.
Nathan reached for the phone.
She moved it away.
“Was there more?”
“Yes.”
“Show me.”
“Rachel.”
“Show me the conversation.”
He unlocked the thread with his mother.
There was more.
A great deal more.
Nathan had not agreed to remove Sophie.
He had not called Rachel dangerous.
He had not asked Eleanor to take custody.
But he had written about Rachel in the language of a person trying to solve a problem while the problem slept beside him.
She won’t let me take the night feeds because she says I have work.
She gets upset when I suggest a sitter.
She says she’s fine and then I find her awake at three.
I don’t know how to help if she won’t tell me what she needs.
Eleanor had answered in the tone Rachel knew well.
She’s ashamed. Don’t push her.
Then:
Let me stay for a few weeks. She needs another woman around.
Later:
You cannot allow guilt to keep you from doing what is best for your daughter.
Nathan had replied:
I’m not taking Sophie away from Rachel.
Eleanor:
Nobody said that.
Rachel handed him the phone.
“Interesting.”
“I told her no.”
“She knew exactly what line not to cross in writing.”
Nathan reread it.
May you like
He looked sick.
Rachel’s own phone vibrated.
