Chương 6
Then I wrote, You were sleeping with my husband.
Her reply did not come quickly this time.
Yes.
I waited.
Another message appeared.
I’m not asking you to forgive that.
Then another.
I’m telling you I didn’t know what he was planning.
I locked the phone without answering.
I was too tired to decide whether her distinction mattered.
Maybe someday it would.
Right then, I hated her because hating her was easier than understanding her.
A hospital aide brought ice chips.
I ate them one at a time.
The little paper cup softened in my grip.
Marisol replaced it without comment when water began leaking onto the sheet.
For twenty quiet minutes, nothing happened except my son’s heartbeat pulsing steadily from the monitor.
That sound became the only thing in the room I trusted.
Fast.
Regular.
Alive.
I rested one hand on my stomach.
“I’m sorry,” I whispered.
Marisol looked over.
“For what?”
I shook my head.
“Not you.”
She turned back to her computer without asking.
The phone buzzed again.
This time it was Lauren.
I found something.
A photograph followed.
My dining table filled the image, but it was not the dining table anymore.
Lauren had covered it in paper.
She sent a second picture closer in.
I recognized my signature at the bottom.
I pinched the screen larger.
The document was titled TEMPORARY CAREGIVER AUTHORIZATION.
My pulse jumped.
I called her.
She answered immediately.
“Do not panic.”
“Why would you start with that?”
“Because there are a lot of papers.”
“What does it say?”
“I’m reading.”
“Read it.”
“Rachel, some of this is legal language and I don’t want to tell you the wrong thing.”
“Read the parts with my name.”
I heard pages moving.
“Okay.”
She paused.
“It says you authorize Eric to make certain decisions for the child in the event you are medically incapacitated.”
“That doesn’t sound like custody.”
“No.”
“Keep going.”
“There’s another document.”
Her voice changed.
“What?”
“This one mentions guardianship.”
My fingers tightened around the phone.
“Read it.”
“It says proposed standby guardian.”
“Proposed?”
“Yes.”
“For who?”
There was another pause.
“Eric.”
“That makes no sense.”
“I know.”
“Eric is the father.”
“I know.”
“What else?”
“Wait.”
Pages scraped against wood.
“Rachel.”
“What?”
“There’s a name filled in for successor guardian.”
I looked at the door even though I already knew.
“Claire?”
“No.”
My breath caught.
“Who?”
“Diane.”
I sat perfectly still.
Marisol turned toward me.
Lauren kept talking.
“It lists Diane Mercer.”
The room suddenly felt colder.
“Why would Eric tell Claire she was the guardian?”
“I don’t know.”
“Is Claire’s name anywhere?”
“I’m looking.”
A drawer opened in the background.
Lauren muttered something I couldn’t hear.
“What?”
“Nothing.”
“What did you say?”
“I said your husband files like a serial killer.”
I closed my eyes.
“Lauren.”
“I’m looking.”
Several seconds passed.
Then, “Okay.”
Her voice had gone flat.
“I found Claire.”
“Where?”
“A separate page.”
“What page?”
“It looks like a draft.”
“Of what?”
“Petition language, maybe.”
“I thought you said you weren’t giving legal interpretations.”
“I’m not.”
“You just said petition.”
“Because it says PETITION in capital letters.”
Despite everything, I laughed.
It came out shaky.
“Fine.”
“Claire Bennett is listed as a proposed temporary caregiver.”
“For my baby?”
“Yes.”
My throat closed.
“Why?”
“There’s a paragraph.”
“Read it.”
Lauren hesitated.
“Read it.”
“It says you have exhibited emotional instability during pregnancy and may be unable to safely care for the child during the postpartum period.”
The monitor beside me kept tracing my son’s heartbeat.
I heard every beat.
I heard nothing else.
“Rachel?”
“I’m here.”
“There’s more.”
“Read it.”
“It refers to concerns about possible self-harm.”
I sat up too fast.
Marisol immediately came over.
“What’s wrong?”
I held up one finger.
Lauren continued.
“It says there were episodes of threats, isolation, and erratic behavior.”
“No.”
“I know.”
“I never threatened to hurt myself.”
“I know.”
“I never did.”
“I know, Rachel.”
“Does it say who reported that?”
“I don’t see a source.”
I could hear her turning pages faster now.
“Wait.”
“What?”
“There are printed messages.”
My stomach went cold.
“What messages?”
“Texts.”
“From me?”
“They look like they’re from you.”
“To Eric?”
“Yes.”
“Read one.”
Lauren went quiet.
“Read one.”
She swallowed audibly.
“‘Sometimes I think everyone would be better off without me.’”
I stared at the wall.
“I never sent that.”
“I know.”
“Check the date.”
“May eighteenth.”
I closed my eyes.
May eighteenth had been the day of our neighborhood garage sale.
I remembered because I had spent the afternoon arguing with Lauren over whether anyone would buy Eric’s old exercise bike.
I had been with her almost the entire day.
“Another one.”
“‘I don’t trust myself when I get this angry.’”
“No.”
“Another.”
“‘Maybe you should take the baby when he comes.’”
I put the phone on speaker because my hand had started trembling.
Marisol heard enough to understand.
Her expression sharpened.
“Lauren, photograph every page.”
Janet had returned without my noticing.
She was standing in the doorway.
Lauren heard her.
“Who is that?”
“Charge nurse.”
Janet stepped closer.
“Do not alter or write on the documents.”
“I haven’t.”
“Photograph them where they are, including the pages around them.”
“Okay.”
“Do you see originals and copies?”
Lauren moved around the table.
“I think both.”
“Do not discard anything.”
“I won’t.”
I looked at Janet.
“What do I do?”
“First, secure your medical account.”
“After that.”
She considered her answer.
“If you believe documents were created or altered to misrepresent your mental state, you may want legal advice.”
“My baby is coming today.”
“I know.”
“What if they use this?”
“Use it where?”
“To take him.”
Janet pulled the chair closer.
“Rachel, I cannot tell you what a court would do with documents I haven’t reviewed and don’t understand.”
My eyes burned.
“But inside this hospital, you are our patient.”
She spoke calmly.
May you like
“Your husband cannot walk in with private paperwork and simply remove your baby.”
I exhaled for what felt like the first time in a minute.
