Chương 7
He called at eight fourteen.
Elena considered ignoring him, then answered.
“What did you tell people?” he demanded.
“Good morning.”
“My sister sent me some post saying I abandoned you.”
“You did.”
“I did not abandon you.”
“You moved out while I was pregnant.”
“We broke up.”
“You left a note on the microwave.”
“I came back to talk.”
“Three weeks later.”
“That isn’t abandonment.”
“What do you want, Dylan?”
“I’m getting messages.”
“How did they find you?”
“I don’t know. Somebody posted an old picture.”
Elena sat on the edge of the bed while Lucy pulled tissues from a box one by one.
“Delete your accounts for a while.”
“I shouldn’t have to.”
“No. You shouldn’t.”
There was a pause.
“Did you tell the principal I don’t help?”
“No.”
“He said you raised her alone.”
“I didn’t write his speech.”
“Well, now people think I’m some deadbeat.”
Elena looked at the phone.
“You missed her first birthday.”
“I was working.”
“You posted pictures from a fishing trip.”
“That was after work.”
“It was in another state.”
Dylan exhaled hard. “This is what you do. You turn everything into evidence.”
“I’m an accounting major.”
“This isn’t funny.”
“No.”
Lucy stuffed a tissue into her mouth. Elena pulled it out.
Dylan’s voice lowered. “My boss asked about it.”
“I’m sorry.”
“You don’t sound sorry.”
“I am sorry your boss asked. I’m not sorry the description bothers you.”
“You could say something.”
“What?”
“That I didn’t abandon my kid.”
“Do you want me to lie on television?”
“I want you to tell the truth.”
“The truth is you pay support when payroll garnishment catches up with you. The truth is you cancel visits. The truth is your mother knows Lucy’s shoe size and you don’t.”
Silence filled the line.
Elena regretted the last sentence as soon as she said it. Not because it was false. Because she had used Lucy as a weapon, and because part of her had enjoyed landing the blow.
Dylan cleared his throat.
“I want to see her.”
“You have a scheduled visit next Sunday.”
“I mean today.”
“We have plans.”
“What plans?”
“That isn’t your business.”
“She’s my daughter.”
“Then follow the schedule you asked for.”
He hung up.
Elena set the phone down.
Lucy reached for another tissue.
“No,” Elena said.
Lucy smiled.
At eleven, Elena met Connor and Priya at a café inside a grocery store across town. She chose it because nobody went there to be seen. The espresso machine had an OUT OF ORDER sign, and an employee was stocking plastic forks beside the soup station.
Marcus watched Lucy at Elena’s apartment. He had objected to the meeting until Elena reminded him that she had spent years meeting angry patients about disputed medical bills without security.
Connor sat at a corner table wearing a gray sweatshirt and a baseball cap pulled low. Priya sat across from him. Neither had bought anything.
Elena set her coffee down.
“You have thirty minutes.”
Connor stood halfway, then sat again.
Up close, he looked exhausted. There were small red marks along his jaw where he had shaved too quickly.
“I’m sorry,” he said.
Elena removed her coat but kept it across her lap.
“For which part?”
“All of it.”
“That’s not specific.”
He looked at Priya.
She said, “Don’t look at me.”
Connor nodded. “For laughing. For recording. For the things I said before the ceremony. For sending messages about you.”
“What messages?”
His throat moved.
Priya placed her phone on the table. “Show her.”
Connor looked at the phone as if it belonged to someone else.
Then he unlocked it.
The group chat began three weeks earlier. Elena read in silence.
Connor had posted a screenshot of the commencement accommodation list, showing Elena’s name beside the note INFANT CARRIER APPROVED—STAGE ACCESS. He had obtained it while volunteering with the ceremony team.
Special rules for Saint Elena, he wrote.
Madison replied with a baby emoji and a crown.
Another graduate asked whether the baby would receive an honorary degree.
Priya sent a single message: That list may be confidential.
Connor responded: Relax. Her entire personality is being a mom at school.
Elena scrolled.
The chat grew worse during the final week. Connor claimed Elena had received a grade adjustment in Advanced Auditing after bringing Lucy to office hours. He said Professor Shaw favored her because “sob stories are academic currency now.”
Elena looked up.
“Where did you hear that?”
Connor rubbed his palms on his jeans. “I didn’t.”
“You wrote it.”
“I assumed.”
“You assumed my grade was changed?”
“You got a ninety-eight on the final.”
“So?”
“Nobody gets a ninety-eight in Shaw’s class.”
“I did.”
He looked down.
Priya said, “Connor thought he was going to graduate first in the department.”
Elena knew the accounting department did not formally rank graduates beyond honors.
“There is no first.”
“The Halpern Fellowship,” Connor said.
The fellowship placed one graduate in a paid yearlong position with a regional forensic accounting firm. Elena had applied in February and been interviewed in April. She had not heard back.
Connor’s father was a partner at a law firm that represented the Halpern Foundation.
“You thought I got it,” Elena said.
“I heard Shaw recommending you.”
“So you decided I cheated.”
“I thought the school was building a story around you.”
Elena leaned back.
The phrasing was uncomfortably close to what the communications office had done.
Connor saw something in her face. “I’m not saying I was right.”
“You’re explaining.”
“I’m trying to.”
“You thought I was taking something from you.”
“Yes.”
His honesty came without decoration.
Elena looked at the group chat again.
“You were cruel because you were jealous.”
“I was cruel because I was angry and because the others laughed when I said things.”
Priya crossed her arms. “Do not make us responsible for your personality.”
“I said because, not that it was your fault.”
“Good distinction.”
Connor’s face tightened. “You were there.”
“Yes.”
May you like
“You reacted to messages.”
“I used a thumbs-down on the one about her dress.”
