Part 8
The second supervised hospital visit went badly.
Evan arrived with a stuffed rabbit for each child, though the neonatal nurse explained that nothing could remain in the bassinets. He asked why Lily had lost twelve grams overnight, why Rose received a supplemental bottle, and why June’s chart listed a temperature variation.
His questions were reasonable.
His tone was not.
He recorded the answers in a notebook and requested the nurses’ full names. When the social worker reminded him the visit was for bonding, he said documenting medical negligence was part of parenting.
Then he asked to photograph the babies.
The hospital allowed photographs but prohibited images containing other patients or confidential information. Evan took dozens. He repositioned himself repeatedly, trying to capture the identification bands.
The social worker ended the visit when he attempted to move Lily’s bassinet closer to the door after being told not to.
Evan later wrote that the hospital had retaliated against him for asking appropriate questions.
Claire read the report with mixed relief and dread.
“He’s building a case,” she said.
Naomi sat across from her at Mara’s kitchen table. “So are we.”
“He’ll say I’m keeping them from him.”
“The hospital ended the visit.”
“Because I poisoned them against him.”
“You were not present.”
“That won’t matter to Harold.”
“We are not trying this case before Harold.”
“It feels like we are.”
Naomi set down her pen. “Then stop.”
Claire stared at her.
“You still arrange every fact according to how he will explain it,” Naomi said. “You anticipate his version before you permit yourself to have one.”
“That kept me safe.”
“It kept you alive inside his system. We are trying to leave his system.”
Claire looked away.
Through the apartment window, a man across the street scraped frost from his windshield with a credit card. He worked at one stubborn corner for several minutes, stopped to blow on his hands, then began again.
“I don’t know how,” Claire said.
“You don’t need to know all of it today.”
“What do I need to know?”
“Whether you will testify.”
The evidentiary hearing was six days away.
Claire had assumed she would testify. When Naomi described cross-examination, the assumption weakened.
Evan’s attorney would ask about the suicidal crisis. The counseling. The anxiety medication Claire stopped during pregnancy. The occasions she cried, forgot appointments, slept through alarms, or asked Evan to stay home from work. She would ask why Claire remained in the house if she believed Evan was dangerous. Why she allowed him at prenatal visits. Why she named him as her medical proxy. Why she signed the delegation document.
Every answer would be judged for clarity, restraint, and consistency.
“I was drugged and bleeding when I signed it.”
“You were medicated,” Naomi corrected. “Do not use a word that suggests criminal administration unless we have evidence.”
“He knew I couldn’t read it.”
“That is what you will say.”
“What if I sound angry?”
“You are angry.”
“What if I cry?”
“You may.”
“What if I can’t remember something?”
“You say you don’t remember.”
“What if that makes me look unreliable?”
“Pretending certainty where you do not have it is worse.”
Claire rubbed her thumb over the indentation left by her hospital identification bracelet.
Naomi waited.
“Yes,” Claire said. “I’ll testify.”
Harold called that evening from a blocked number.
Claire answered because she expected the hospital.
For several seconds, neither spoke.
Then Harold said, “You have always mistaken indulgence for weakness.”
Claire’s hand tightened around the phone.
Mara was in the shower. Diane had gone home. Naomi had instructed Claire not to engage with Evan, but Harold was subject to no communication order because he was not a party to the custody case.
“You shouldn’t call me.”
“I am offering you a way to stop this.”
She placed the phone on speaker and opened the voice recorder on Mara’s tablet. A warning flashed that recording laws varied by location.
Claire did not press start.
“What way?”
“You withdraw the accusations. Evan withdraws the emergency petition. You return to the house with appropriate support.”
“Whose support?”
“A professional caregiver.”
“Chosen by you.”
“Paid by me.”
“And you keep my psychiatric records in your desk?”
Silence.
Claire’s heartbeat became audible in her ears.
“You stole private papers from my home,” Harold said.
“Diane did.”
“So she admits it.”
Claire closed her eyes. He had not known.
She had given him something.
“Why did you prepare the petition before I fell?”
“I prepared for an obvious risk.”
“What risk?”
“You.”
The simplicity of the answer hurt more than shouting would have.
Harold continued. “You are exhausted, isolated, and being encouraged by women whose lives are defined by resentment. In six months, when the performance ends, you will need the family you are trying to destroy.”
“You mean your family.”
“There is no meaningful distinction now.”
“There is to me.”
“Evan loves you.”
“Evan shoved me.”
“Evan tried to stop you from driving in a dangerous condition.”
“He followed me upstairs.”
“You were hysterical.”
“He broke my phone.”
“You were documenting private marital disagreements to use as weapons.”
“He helped you take June from me.”
“Lily.”
Claire stopped breathing.
Harold realized the mistake too late.
The child Evan held had been Lily.
June had fussed later during his supervised visit. Harold had not returned to the hospital. He should not have confused them if he had merely acted in the disordered urgency he claimed.
Unless the babies were never individuals to him.
Unless the plan had not been about one particular child.
“You don’t know which baby you took,” Claire said.
“They are newborn triplets.”
“They have names.”
“This is exactly the kind of emotional fixation—”
Claire ended the call.
Her hand shook above the tablet.
She had not recorded him.
May you like
For a moment, she wanted to throw the device across the room.
Instead she wrote down every word she could remember, including her mistake about which baby had been taken and his correction. She emailed the note to Naomi and herself.
