Chương 3
My jaw tightened.
“You told her to clean.”
“I asked her to help around the apartment where she lives.”
“She lives there because it’s her home.”
“And it’s ours too.”
There it was.
Not gratitude.
Not temporary necessity.
Ownership.
I looked at Emily.
Her eyes had closed, but I could tell from the tension in her mouth that she was listening.
“Mom, we’ll talk when I get back.”
“I don’t appreciate being treated like some kind of criminal.”
“Then stop talking.”
Silence.
I had never spoken to my mother that way.
Neither, apparently, had anyone else.
When she answered, her voice was low.
“You need to remember who your family is.”
I looked at my wife beneath the hospital blanket.
At the monitor tracing our unborn son’s heartbeat.
At the IV carrying fluid into the arm of a woman who had eaten pizza crust for dinner because four healthy adults had made themselves comfortable in her home.
“I just did,” I said.
Then I ended the call.
For several seconds, all I could hear was the faint hospital ventilation and the soft electronic rhythm of our son’s heartbeat.
Emily opened her eyes.
“You hung up on her.”
“Yes.”
“You never hang up on your mom.”
“I probably should’ve started years ago.”
She studied me as if she was trying to decide whether I meant it.
Then her face tightened.
Not from a contraction this time.
From worry.
“What happens when we go home?”
The question sat between us.
I had been so focused on getting her to the hospital that I had not allowed myself to think beyond the next hour.
Home meant my mother.
My sisters.
The couch buried under their blankets.
The bathroom Brittany monopolized for forty-five minutes every morning.
Kayla’s shoes piled beside the door.
Lily’s makeup scattered across the dining table.
Home meant four people who had somehow settled into our life so completely that Emily had begun moving around them like she was the guest.
“They can’t stay,” I said.
Emily stared at me.
“Tonight?”
“Maybe not tonight.”
I rubbed both hands over my face.
“But this arrangement is over.”
She swallowed.
“Your mom doesn’t have anywhere else.”
“I’ll figure out what options she has.”
“And your sisters?”
“They’re adults.”
“So is your mom.”
The words were quiet, but there was no cruelty in them.
That made them harder to argue with.
I leaned back in the chair.
“I know.”
Emily turned her gaze toward the monitor.
The baby’s heart rate flickered across the screen.
“I don’t want you throwing everyone into the street because you’re angry.”
“I’m not.”
“You are.”
“I’m furious.”
“Exactly.”
She reached for my hand.
Her fingers were still cold.
“You make bad decisions when you’re furious.”
That was true.
Once, when I was twenty-two, I had quit a job in the middle of a shift because a supervisor insulted me in front of the loading crew.
I had felt magnificent for eleven minutes.
Then I spent three months borrowing money from my mother.
Emily knew that story.
She knew most of the stories I preferred not to remember.
“I’m not doing anything tonight,” I said.
“Except taking you somewhere safe.”
“Our apartment is safe.”
I looked at her.
She sighed.
“You know what I mean.”
“No, I don’t think it is.”
A small line appeared between her eyebrows.
“They’re not going to hurt me.”
“Hurt has a pretty wide definition right now.”
She did not answer.
That silence told me more than I wanted.
Marisol came back around midnight with another nurse and unhooked the IV after speaking with the doctor.
The contractions had eased.
Emily’s blood pressure had improved.
They wanted her home, hydrated, eating regularly, and taking it easy.
If the pain returned, if there was bleeding, fluid leakage, decreased fetal movement, or anything that frightened her, we were to come back.
I listened like I was being given instructions for defusing a bomb.
Emily thanked everyone twice.
She always did that when she was nervous.
At the discharge desk, I watched her sign paperwork while trying to balance her purse against her belly.
I took the purse.
She gave me a look.
“I can carry a purse.”
“I know.”
“You’re going to become unbearable, aren’t you?”
“Yes.”
That earned another tired smile.
It was nearly one in the morning when we walked into the parking garage.
The concrete held the cold differently than outside.
Our footsteps echoed.
Emily stopped beside the car.
“Can we not go back there tonight?”
I looked at her.
She was staring at the passenger door.
“I thought you said the apartment was safe.”
“I changed my mind.”
There was no drama in her voice.
That frightened me more than if she had cried.
“Okay.”
“Where?”
I pulled out my phone.
My first instinct was a hotel.
Then I opened my banking app and saw the balance.
One thousand, eight hundred and twelve dollars.
Rent would clear in three days.
The car payment came two days after that.
My paycheck would land Friday.
There were medical costs coming.
Baby costs.
Every number seemed to have teeth.
Emily saw my face.
“We can go home.”
“No.”
“Ethan.”
“No.”
I scrolled through my contacts and stopped at Marcus.
He and I had worked together for almost seven years.
He had been at our wedding.
He was also the kind of man who answered calls at one in the morning only to make sure the caller was not dead.
He picked up on the fourth ring.
“If this is about tomorrow’s shift, I quit.”
“Marcus.”
He immediately changed tone.
“What happened?”
“Emily had to go to the hospital.”
There was a rustle on his end.
“Baby?”
“They’re okay.”
“Okay.”
He breathed out.
“Okay, good.”
“I need a favor.”
“You need my truck?”
“No.”
“Money?”
“No.”
“You need me to fight somebody?”
Despite everything, I laughed.
Emily shook her head.
“I need somewhere for Emily and me to sleep tonight.”
May you like
Marcus was silent for two seconds.
Then he said, “You remember where I live?”
