Chương 9
“What would you say?”
Nathan thought.
“Something cruel.”
“Good reason not to.”
He looked at her.
“You’re enjoying this.”
“A little.”
The next week was quieter.
Not peaceful.
Quiet.
There was a difference.
Rachel started therapy.
Nathan took the midnight feeding.
They hired a postpartum doula for three nights a week, which Rachel initially hated because the first evening she sat upstairs listening to another woman warm a bottle and became convinced she had outsourced something sacred.
On the second evening, she slept four uninterrupted hours.
The next morning she came downstairs and found the doula eating toast while Sophie lay on a play mat kicking at a fabric giraffe.
Rachel stood in the doorway.
“How long has she been awake?”
“Twenty minutes.”
“And she’s okay?”
The woman looked down at Sophie.
“Seems pretty committed to fighting that giraffe.”
Rachel smiled.
It was embarrassingly difficult to accept.
Help that did not require surrender.
That was what Eleanor had taught her to confuse.
Nathan began therapy too, though he called it “talking to a guy on Thursdays” until Rachel pointed out that this was therapy.
“I know.”
“Then say therapy.”
“I’m in therapy.”
“Was that physically painful?”
“A little.”
Their marriage did not repair itself because they had identified the problem.
Some nights they argued.
Rachel would find herself asking questions about conversations Nathan had with Eleanor years earlier.
Nathan would get defensive.
Once he said, “I cannot retroactively disclose every conversation I have ever had with my mother.”
Rachel answered, “I’m not asking for every conversation.”
“It feels like it.”
“That feeling is called consequences.”
He slept in the guest room that night.
The next morning he made pancakes shaped like circles that were somehow less circular than normal pancakes.
Rachel ate two.
Neither apologized until afternoon.
There was progress in that too.
They stopped treating every disagreement like a test of whether the marriage would survive.
Two weeks after the birthday dinner, Susan asked to visit.
Rachel almost said no.
Nathan told her it was her choice.
That annoyed her.
“You can have opinions.”
“I do.”
“What’s your opinion?”
“I think Susan feels guilty.”
“So?”
“I think she probably knows something.”
Rachel stared.
“That should have been your first sentence.”
Susan arrived carrying a grocery-store lemon cake.
“I didn’t know what people bring to situations like this.”
Rachel took the box.
“Apparently cake.”
“I panicked.”
“That seems genetic in this family.”
Susan laughed, then immediately looked guilty.
They sat in the living room.
Sophie slept in Rachel’s arms.
Susan twisted her wedding ring.
“I need to tell you something about Eleanor.”
Nathan leaned forward.
Susan looked at him.
“You aren’t going to like it.”
“That narrows nothing.”
She glanced at Rachel.
“After your father died, Eleanor got… worse.”
Nathan’s expression closed.
Rachel noticed.
Susan continued carefully.
“She’s always been controlling. Your father buffered it.”
“That’s a generous word.”
“He loved her.”
“I know.”
“He also lied to her constantly.”
Nathan frowned.
“Dad?”
“Small lies. Mostly.”
Susan gave a sad smile.
“He’d say he had a meeting when he wanted lunch alone. He’d tell her his phone died because he didn’t want to answer. Once he pretended he’d forgotten how to use the calendar app so she’d stop putting things on it.”
Nathan laughed before he could stop himself.
“That sounds like Dad.”
“It wasn’t healthy.”
“No.”
“But it was how he made space.”
Susan looked toward the window.
“When he got sick, he couldn’t do that anymore. She controlled everything because he didn’t have the energy to resist.”
Rachel said, “What does that have to do with Sophie?”
“I’m getting there.”
Susan took a breath.
“After he died, Eleanor had nobody to manage.”
Nathan flinched.
Susan saw it.
“I know how that sounds.”
“It sounds awful.”
“It is awful. It’s also true.”
Rachel rubbed Sophie’s back.
Susan continued.
“Then you got pregnant.”
The room remained quiet.
“Eleanor talked about that baby constantly. Not just like a grandmother. She started saying things like, ‘The family has something to organize around again.’”
Rachel felt cold.
Nathan shook his head.
“I never heard that.”
“She didn’t say it to you.”
“What else?”
Susan hesitated.
“After Sophie was born, she told me Rachel was shutting her out.”
Rachel laughed quietly.
“I asked her to text before coming over.”
“I know.”
“She came at seven in the morning.”
“I know.”
“I was breastfeeding in the kitchen.”
Susan winced.
“I know that too.”
“Of course you do.”
“I’m sorry.”
Rachel looked away.
Susan continued.
“She started collecting examples.”
Nathan frowned.
“Examples of what?”
“Rachel being overwhelmed.”
The words seemed to change the temperature of the room.
“What kind of examples?” Rachel asked.
Susan counted them reluctantly.
“You crying at the christening.”
“I had mastitis.”
“I know.”
“You know because she told you?”
“Yes.”
“What else?”
“You leaving Mark’s barbecue early.”
“Sophie had a fever.”
“I know.”
“What else?”
Susan looked down.
“The pediatrician.”
Rachel’s grip tightened around Sophie.
“And?”
“She told me you forgot the diaper bag once.”
Nathan stared.
Rachel almost laughed.
“I forgot it in the car.”
“I know.”
“It was forty feet away.”
“I know.”
Susan looked miserable.
“That’s what I mean. Each thing was normal when she first said it. Then she started putting them together.”
Rachel understood.
Not evidence.
Narrative.
That was Eleanor’s skill.
A mother cried.
A mother forgot a bag.
A mother left a party.
A mother had a panic attack.
Arrange them correctly and the ordinary became ominous.
Nathan said, “Did she show you the photograph?”
Susan went still.
Rachel and Nathan exchanged a look.
“What photograph?” Susan asked.
Rachel showed her.
Susan’s face changed.
“I’ve seen this.”
“When?”
“The week before your birthday.”
Nathan leaned forward.
“Where?”
“Eleanor’s condo.”
Rachel stared.
“The condo under renovation?”
“She asked me to meet the contractor.”
“Why did she have the picture already?”
Susan shook her head.
“I don’t know. It was on her desk.”
May you like
Nathan looked at Rachel.
They had assumed the photograph had been printed the Sunday before the dinner.
