Chương 1
"""“Where are my wife and son?” I called as I pushed open the apartment door, and the only answer was the thin, exhausted cry of a newborn somewhere beyond the dark living room.
The cold hit me almost as hard as the silence.
I dropped my suitcase beside the entry bench and stared at the thermostat, which showed fifty-six degrees even though a bitter December wind had been driving temperatures below freezing all evening.
“Maya?”
Another cry came from the kitchen, weaker this time.
I hurried toward it and found my wife sitting on a white plastic folding chair beneath the harsh stove light, eleven days after an emergency C-section, looking like somebody had forgotten her there.
She wore flannel pajama pants, an old gray cardigan, and no socks.
Her face had gone pale enough that the freckles across her nose seemed unnaturally dark.
One hand pressed against her lower abdomen.
A rust-colored stain spread through the fabric beneath it.
On the table sat a paper cup of instant ramen with a fork leaning sideways in the swollen noodles.
Our son Liam lay in a wicker bassinet beside her, wrapped in a receiving blanket so thin I could see the outline of his knees.
Maya looked at me without recognition for half a second.
Then fear replaced confusion.
“David?”
I crossed the room.
“What happened?”
“You’re not supposed to be home.”
Her voice came out rough, almost embarrassed.
“I changed my flight.”
She tried to stand.
“Don’t.”
“I can make you something.”
“What?”
“To eat.”
Her knees folded.
I caught her under the arms before she hit the floor.
She made a sound through her teeth and grabbed my shoulder so hard her nails dug through my sweater.
For several seconds, neither of us spoke.
Liam cried again.
I eased Maya back onto the chair and crouched in front of her.
Her skin felt hot despite the freezing apartment.
“What happened to your incision?”
“It’s fine.”
“That is blood.”
“It pulled a little when I carried the laundry.”
“You carried laundry?”
She looked past me.
I had known Maya long enough to recognize the particular silence she used when she was choosing the least dangerous version of the truth.
I stood and opened the refrigerator.
Nothing.
Not almost nothing.
Nothing.
The glass shelves had been wiped clean except for a packet of soy sauce and half a bottle of mustard.
I opened the freezer.
Two ice trays.
The expensive postpartum meals I had ordered before leaving for Germany were gone.
The beef broth was gone.
The salmon was gone.
The prepared chicken, fruit, yogurt, milk, electrolyte drinks, vegetables, frozen soups, and the prescription formula Liam’s pediatrician had recommended after his feeding problems were gone.
I turned around.
“Where is the food?”
Maya rubbed both hands over her forearms.
“They took some of it.”
“Who?”
She gave me a look that made the answer unnecessary.
My mother Eleanor had moved into the guest room two days before Liam was born.
My younger sister Chloe and her husband Mark had promised to rotate nights so Maya would never be alone while I finished the machinery inspection my employer had refused to postpone.
I had hated leaving.
Maya had been the one who finally told me to go.
“You’ll be miserable here,” she had said from her hospital bed, trying to smile around the pain medication.
“And your mother will be insulted if we don’t let her help.”
That sentence came back to me now with a cruelty it had not possessed eleven days earlier.
“Where are they?”
“David.”
“Where are they?”
“Miami.”
I stared at her.
She swallowed.
“Your mom said Chloe found a resort package, and Mark knew somebody who could get them upgraded.”
“All three of them went to Miami?”
Maya nodded.
“For how long?”
“Since yesterday morning.”
“And they left you here alone?”
“I’m managing.”
“You can barely stand.”
“I said I’m managing.”
Her voice sharpened suddenly, and then her face folded with pain.
She pressed her palm against the incision again.
I saw Liam’s bassinet move as he kicked beneath the blanket.
My anger had arrived so fast that it almost felt clean, but Maya’s defensiveness complicated it.
She was protecting them.
Or protecting herself from what would happen when I stopped pretending this was merely thoughtless.
I lifted Liam carefully.
I had held him only once after his birth, for twenty minutes before leaving for the airport, and the memory had tormented me across an ocean.
Now he felt frighteningly small.
His cheeks were cool.
“Why is it fifty-six degrees in here?”
“The heat is acting weird.”
“It was serviced in October.”
“Your mother turned it down.”
“Why?”
Maya did not answer.
I tucked Liam inside my open coat, holding him against my chest.
“Why?”
“She said the heating bill was ridiculous.”
I laughed once.
It was not amusement.
I had transferred fourteen thousand dollars to a household account before leaving.
The money was supposed to cover groceries, transportation, extra childcare, medication, takeout, cleaning, and anything else Maya needed without having to ask anyone.
I pulled out my phone.
The balance showed three hundred and eighty-two dollars.
My thumb stayed suspended above the screen.
“Maya.”
“Please don’t.”
“Where did the money go?”
She closed her eyes.
“I don’t know.”
I opened the transaction history.
Luxury department store.
Restaurant.
Restaurant.
Car service.
Spa.
Airline.
Hotel deposit.
Jewelry store.
Another restaurant.
Charges began four days after I left.
I scrolled faster.
There was almost nothing related to Maya or Liam.
Then I saw a charge from a Brooklyn pharmacy for twenty-eight dollars.
One.
I showed Maya the screen.
“Did you know?”
“No.”
“Did you give them permission?”
“No.”
“Did my mother tell you I gave her permission?”
Maya opened her eyes.
“She said you told her the money was for family expenses.”
“That means taking care of you.”
“I know what it means.”
The anger in her answer startled both of us.
She looked down immediately.
May you like
“I know.”
A piece of paper fluttered against the inside refrigerator door when the compressor started.
