Chương 3
She seemed to fold into his arms rather than fall, all bone and heat beneath the gray sweatshirt.
"Sophie, open the chain."
The girl stared at him.
"Now, sweetheart."
Something in his voice worked.
She dragged a kitchen chair across the floor, climbed onto it, and fumbled with the latch while Vincent kept Elena upright against his chest.
Her breathing came too fast.
"Mommy?"
"I'm fine," Elena whispered.
Sophie looked furious.
"That's three lies."
The chain came free.
Vincent carried Elena inside.
The apartment was small enough that he could see almost all of it from the doorway.
A narrow living room.
A kitchen table covered in envelopes.
A pink backpack hanging from the back of a chair.
Three pill bottles beside a chipped blue mug.
A blanket arranged carefully on a sagging couch.
There was no decoration that looked expensive.
There was hardly anything that looked unnecessary.
"Put me down," Elena said.
"You're going to fall again."
"I said put me down."
Her voice had strength now, though her body did not.
Vincent lowered her onto the couch.
Sophie immediately fetched a glass of water without being asked.
Elena took it with both hands.
"Thank you, baby."
Sophie stayed beside her.
Vincent stood a few feet away, suddenly aware of how much space he occupied.
His suit alone probably cost more than the furniture in the room.
That fact embarrassed him in a way poverty never had before.
Elena noticed where he was looking.
"Don't."
"Don't what?"
"Start calculating."
"I wasn't."
"You always calculate."
Sophie looked up at him.
"Are you good at math?"
Vincent glanced at Elena.
"Usually."
"My mom says calculators make people lazy."
"Your mother has strong opinions."
"She has lots."
"I remember."
Elena's eyes sharpened.
"Vincent."
He stopped.
Sophie climbed onto the edge of the couch.
"Do you want crackers?"
Elena closed her eyes.
"No, sweetheart."
"You have to eat before the white pill."
"I know."
"You said that before and then you didn't."
Vincent watched the exchange.
There was no drama in Sophie's tone.
That was worse.
She sounded practiced.
A six-year-old should not have sounded practiced at managing medication.
Elena opened her eyes again.
"Will you get me two?"
Sophie nodded and hurried into the kitchen.
Vincent waited until she was out of immediate earshot.
"What kind of cancer?"
Elena looked at him as if he'd struck her.
"Lower your voice."
"What kind?"
"Why does it matter?"
"Because you're sick."
"That didn't matter to you yesterday."
"I didn't know yesterday."
"You didn't know anything yesterday."
Her words stayed quiet, which made them more dangerous.
"You didn't know six years ago either."
Vincent looked toward the kitchen.
Sophie was standing on tiptoe trying to reach a box from a cabinet.
He moved automatically.
"I've got it."
"Don't."
Elena's command stopped him.
Sophie pushed the chair over instead.
She climbed up, retrieved the crackers, and climbed down with the concentration of someone performing a routine task.
Vincent hated that too.
When Sophie returned, she handed Elena two crackers and offered one to him.
He took it.
"You look like you don't eat crackers," she said.
"What do I look like I eat?"
Sophie studied his suit.
"Steak."
Elena made a sound that might have been a laugh before she covered it with a cough.
Vincent ate the cracker.
It was stale.
"Not bad."
Sophie grinned.
"You're lying."
"Apparently I'm in the right apartment."
Elena's smile disappeared.
"Enough."
Sophie looked between them again.
She was too observant.
Vincent recognized that before he recognized anything else about her.
He had been that way as a child, listening from hallways, storing the meaning adults hoped he would miss.
Elena broke one cracker into tiny pieces before eating them.
Vincent noticed an envelope beneath the medicine bottles.
The red print across the top said FINAL NOTICE.
He looked away before she caught him.
Too late.
"Don't you dare," Elena said.
"I didn't say anything."
"You don't have to."
Sophie slid off the couch.
"Can I color now?"
"Yes."
"At the table?"
"Yes."
"Can he stay?"
Elena's hand stopped halfway to the water glass.
Vincent waited.
Sophie asked again.
"Can sidewalk man stay?"
"My name is Vincent."
"I know."
"How?"
"You said it."
"I don't think I did."
"Mom did."
Elena stared at the floor.
Sophie took her coloring book to the kitchen table and began choosing crayons with grave deliberation.
The apartment became quiet except for traffic outside and the scratch of wax on paper.
Vincent lowered his voice.
"Is she mine?"
Elena rubbed her thumb along the rim of the glass.
"You don't get to ask like that."
"How should I ask?"
"You could start by remembering I'm a person."
"I remember."
"No, you remember a woman you knew seven years ago."
Her eyes lifted to his.
"You don't know me now."
"Then tell me."
"You don't get to walk in here because of one pharmacy label and demand six years of my life."
"I didn't demand six years."
"That's exactly what you're doing."
He took a breath.
His chest tightened slightly.
The monitor beneath his shirt vibrated once.
Elena heard it.
"What was that?"
"Nothing."
"That wasn't nothing."
"Cardiac monitor."
Her anger faltered.
Only for a second.
"You're supposed to be in a hospital."
"I was discharged."
"Against advice?"
Vincent said nothing.
Elena stared at him.
"Of course."
"You still do that."
"Do what?"
"Decide reality is negotiable."
He looked at Sophie.
She was coloring the sun purple.
"Elena."
"No."
"I need to know."
"And I needed a lot of things."
Her voice trembled now.
She set the glass down before she dropped it.
"I needed you to answer your phone."
Vincent's face changed.
"When?"
"Seven years ago."
"After you left?"
"Three weeks after."
He searched his memory and found only violence.
His father's funeral.
Two shootings.
A warehouse fire in Red Hook.
Marco sleeping on a couch outside his office with a gun under his jacket.
May you like
A new phone number every few days.
"Why didn't you come to me?"
