Chương 7
“I’m trying to understand what being his father looks like.”
“He’s one day old.”
“I’m aware.”
Jenna muttered, “There’s that sentence again.”
Maya ignored her.
“You can visit.”
Ethan nodded.
“Here?”
“At first.”
“How often?”
“I don’t know.”
“Daily?”
Maya’s expression tightened.
“No.”
“Why?”
“Because I need to recover.”
“I won’t interfere.”
“You interfere by entering rooms.”
Jenna looked at the ceiling, delighted.
Ethan rubbed his jaw.
“Every other day.”
“I said I don’t know.”
He stopped.
“Okay.”
Maya stared at him.
“Okay?”
“Yes.”
“That’s it?”
“You told me not to turn reasonable after blowing things up, so I’m trying to do it before.”
She put the sandwich down.
“That was almost funny.”
“I wasn’t joking.”
“That makes it worse.”
Caleb began to cry.
The conversation ended because he did not care about any of it.
Maya went home two days later.
Home was a two-bedroom apartment in Torrance she had rented after leaving the job connected to Ethan’s company. The second bedroom had become a nursery through a sequence of discounted purchases, hand-me-downs, and one financially irresponsible rocking chair she bought at thirty-four weeks because sitting anywhere else made her back hurt.
Jenna stayed the first four nights.
Ethan visited on the second and fourth days.
He brought diapers the wrong size the first time.
Maya told him.
He looked at the package.
“They say newborn.”
“He’s smaller than those.”
“That seems intentionally confusing.”
“Welcome to parenting.”
He returned an hour later with three brands because he did not know which one she preferred.
“You could have texted.”
“I did.”
Maya checked her phone.
He had.
She had missed it beneath forty-three notifications.
“Sorry.”
He shrugged.
Vanessa filed for legal separation six days after Caleb’s birth.
Ethan received the paperwork by email from his attorney while sitting in Maya’s living room with Caleb asleep against his chest.
He read the message twice.
Maya saw his face.
“What happened?”
“Vanessa filed.”
Her body went still.
“I’m sorry.”
“No, you’re not.”
“I am.”
He looked at her.
Maya folded a burp cloth unnecessarily.
“I didn’t want this.”
“You had an affair with her husband.”
“I know.”
“You kept his child secret.”
“I know.”
“You don’t get to separate intention from outcome every time it hurts.”
Maya’s eyes flashed.
“Neither do you.”
“I’m not.”
“You said your marriage was already dead.”
“It wasn’t.”
The admission surprised her.
Ethan looked down at Caleb.
“It was bad. I was unhappy. She was unhappy. We had stopped talking about anything that mattered. That isn’t dead.”
Maya sat across from him.
“Why did you tell me it was?”
“Because I wanted permission.”
“For what?”
“For you.”
The bluntness hurt.
She looked away.
Ethan continued, quieter.
“I made Vanessa into the reason I was doing something I wanted to do.”
Maya pressed the burp cloth flat on her knee.
“I did the same thing.”
“With who?”
“With her. I made her into a reason not to tell you.”
They sat with that.
Caleb sneezed twice.
Ethan looked alarmed.
Maya smiled despite herself.
“He’s fine.”
“He’s always making noises that sound medically significant.”
“He’s a baby.”
“I understand the category.”
“You don’t understand the product.”
“That is a terrible way to describe our son.”
“Our son.”
The words slipped out naturally.
Both of them heard it.
Maya’s smile disappeared.
Ethan did not comment.
The next month passed without a miracle.
Vanessa did not forgive Ethan.
Maya did not suddenly trust him.
Ethan did not transform into a perfect father because he wanted badly to become one.
He missed a pediatric appointment after a concrete pour at a job site went wrong and his operations manager called him at five thirty in the morning. He sent three apologetic texts, then made things worse by asking Maya for a summary instead of calling the doctor’s office himself.
“You wanted rights,” she said over the phone. “Do the work.”
He called the office.
He learned the appointment notes were in the patient portal but that his access required additional authorization.
He filled out the request.
Maya delayed approving it for two days because she was angry.
Then she felt petty.
Then she approved it and remained angry anyway.
Ethan arrived one Saturday with a car seat still in the box.
Maya stared at it.
“You bought the same one I have.”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“So I don’t move yours back and forth.”
“You aren’t driving him anywhere yet.”
“I know.”
“Then why buy it now?”
“Because I had twenty minutes between meetings and a store was there.”
“That is the most divorced-dad thing you’ve ever done, and you aren’t even divorced.”
He set the box against the wall.
“I’m going to pretend you said organized father.”
“You bought a $400 car seat impulsively.”
“It had good safety ratings.”
“You read the ratings?”
“Eventually.”
She laughed.
He looked pleased.
That annoyed her.
Vanessa moved into a furnished apartment in Santa Monica.
She took her clothes, her grandmother’s dishes, two paintings, the bedroom television, and the espresso machine Ethan did not know how to use.
She left their wedding china.
The decision felt more final than the separation filing.
For three weeks, she ignored every message from Maya.
Maya sent only two.
The first said:
I know I am not entitled to ask you for anything. I am sorry for what I did.
The second, eleven days later:
I will not contact you again. I only wanted to say that I am not asking Ethan to choose me. I understand that does not undo anything.
Vanessa deleted both.
Then restored the second from the trash.
Then became angry at herself for doing it.
Her sister, Claire, came over on a Sunday with groceries and opinions.
“You should destroy him.”
Vanessa stood at the kitchen counter slicing strawberries.
“Financially?”
“Emotionally.”
“That sounds measurable.”
“I mean stop protecting him.”
“I’m not.”
“You haven’t told anyone.”
Vanessa put the knife down.
“I told you.”
May you like
“I’m your sister. I meant everyone.”
“Everyone does not need access to the worst thing that has happened to me.”
