Chương 6
“I gave birth today.”
My voice broke.
“I have stitches somewhere I don’t want to think about, our son has eaten twice, I haven’t slept, our daughters are terrified, and I don’t know where I’m going to live tomorrow.”
Dad looked sharply at me at that.
I kept going.
“So no, I do not have a complete plan.”
For once David had no immediate answer.
Then Carol said softly, “Police are outside.”
David swore.
Marisol pulled the phone from her pocket.
“Claire?”
“I’m here.”
“I’m taking the girls to my house if the officers say it’s okay.”
“Yes.”
David’s voice surged again.
“You are not taking them anywhere.”
A doorbell rang.
Nobody moved.
It rang a second time.
Carol said, “I’ll get it.”
“Mom, don’t.”
“David.”
“Don’t open that door.”
“You called police at the hospital.”
“That’s different.”
“How?”
“They were already there.”
It was such an absurd distinction that I almost laughed again, but nothing in me had enough energy.
A few seconds later, a man’s voice identified himself as a Fairfax County police officer.
Another officer spoke from farther back.
The conversation became slower after that.
Professional.
Boring.
That was almost a relief.
The officers did not charge inside and drag David away.
They asked who lived there.
They asked who had legal custody of the children.
They asked whether anyone had been assaulted at that address.
They separated people.
They asked Marisol to step into the dining room.
One officer apparently spoke with David outside.
Another spoke with Carol.
Then Emma got on the phone.
“Mom?”
“Hi.”
“Are you mad at me?”
The question hit so unexpectedly I couldn’t answer.
“Why would I be mad?”
“I listened at the garage door.”
“Oh, honey.”
“I know I’m not supposed to eavesdrop.”
“That is not what I care about right now.”
“Okay.”
She sniffed.
“Is the baby okay?”
I looked at Benjamin.
He had slept through nearly all of it.
“He’s okay.”
“Can I see him?”
“Soon.”
“Can you send a picture?”
My hand trembled as I opened the camera.
I took a photo of Benjamin’s face, his mouth slightly open, one fist tucked beside his cheek.
Then I sent it.
Emma was silent.
“What?” I asked.
“He looks weird.”
Dad made a choking sound.
I glared at him.
“He was just born.”
“I know.”
Another pause.
“His eyes are pretty.”
My chest hurt.
“They are.”
“They look like Grandpa’s.”
Dad turned toward the window.
I watched his shoulders rise and fall once.
“Yeah,” I said.
“They do.”
“Dad said that doesn’t count.”
There was no anger in her voice.
Only confusion.
I closed my eyes.
“Your dad is upset.”
“That doesn’t make his eyes not look like Grandpa’s.”
“No.”
“It’s kind of obvious.”
My father covered his mouth with one hand.
I pointed at him.
“Do not laugh.”
“I’m not.”
“You are.”
Emma heard us.
“Is Grandpa there?”
“Yes.”
“Hi, Grandpa.”
Dad leaned toward the phone.
“Hello, Em.”
“Did Dad really think you were poor?”
I stared at my father.
He stared back.
“Why would you ask that?” I said.
“Grandma said Dad is in trouble because Grandpa tricked him by pretending to be poor.”
Dad closed his eyes.
“I did not pretend to be poor.”
Emma said, “Do you have a secret mansion?”
“No.”
“A helicopter?”
“No.”
“A tank?”
“Not personally.”
I slapped a hand over my eyes.
“Dad.”
“What?”
Emma giggled.
It was the first sound of any of my daughters laughing since the call began.
Dad looked completely unrepentant.
“Grandpa used to have an important job in the Army,” I said.
“How important?”
“Pretty important.”
“Like boss important?”
Dad answered.
“There were several bosses above me.”
“So kind of boss important.”
“Kind of.”
“Did you fight bad guys?”
He looked at me before answering.
“Sometimes my job involved people who were doing bad things.”
“Did you shoot them?”
“Emma,” I said.
“What?”
Dad cleared his throat.
“I mostly sat in meetings.”
I stared at him.
That was probably the least complete truthful sentence he had ever spoken.
Emma seemed disappointed.
“Oh.”
A police officer spoke in the background.
Marisol returned to the phone.
“They’re letting me take the girls.”
I exhaled.
“Thank you.”
“David’s staying here for now.”
“Okay.”
“They told him not to come to the hospital.”
“Okay.”
“Claire.”
“What?”
“You don’t sound okay.”
“I’m not.”
“That’s better.”
I looked down at Benjamin.
His face had scrunched in his sleep as if he disapproved of everything.
“Take them home.”
“My home.”
“Right.”
“I’ll make pancakes.”
“It’s dinner.”
“They’ve had a day.”
That was Marisol’s philosophy of emergency childcare.
Breakfast food and lowered standards.
“Tell them I love them.”
“Tell them yourself.”
She handed the phone to Grace.
My youngest was still crying.
“Mommy?”
“I’m here.”
“Daddy broke Grandma’s lamp.”
I looked at Dana.
She quietly made a note.
“Are you hurt?”
“No.”
“Are your sisters hurt?”
“No.”
“Okay.”
“It was the ugly lamp.”
Despite myself, I smiled.
“I know which one.”
“Grandma said a bad word.”
“Grandma is allowed one tonight.”
“Can I have one?”
“No.”
“That’s not fair.”
“I know.”
Grace considered this.
“Is the baby blue?”
I blinked.
“What?”
“His eyes.”
“Oh.”
I laughed softly.
“Yes.”
“Can I still be his sister?”
My heart broke so cleanly that for a second there was no pain, only emptiness.
“You are his sister forever.”
“Even if Daddy says no?”
“Even then.”
“Okay.”
She sounded satisfied.
Children could sometimes accept certainty where adults created chaos.
After Marisol hung up, the room settled.
Dad sat again.
Dana checked the time and said she would return in the morning.
The nurse dimmed one of the lights.
Outside the window, the streams of traffic had thinned.
I stared at the encrypted phone in Dad’s lap.
“Who did you really call?”
He looked at it.
“My lawyer.”
“Which lawyer?”
“Evelyn Shaw.”
The name meant nothing to me.
“What does she do?”
“Mostly government ethics, defense matters, and complicated situations involving people who should know better.”
May you like
“That sounds expensive.”
“She is.”
