Chương 6
The account showed recent logins from three devices. Her phone. Her laptop. A browser on Eric’s office computer.
She signed out everywhere.
Then she changed the recovery phone number.
When she finished, she felt no triumph. She felt as if she had cut the power to a house while someone might still be inside.
Lucy remained in the neonatal unit for nine days.
During that time, Claire learned how fear could become routine. She pumped milk every three hours. She recorded each amount on a sheet the hospital provided. She asked the same questions and received answers that changed by fractions. Lucy needed less oxygen. Then she tired during feeding. Then she gained an ounce. Then she lost half of it.
Claire was discharged on the fourth day.
Leaving the hospital without the baby felt like participating in a mistake no one else had noticed.
Megan drove her to the suburban house just before dusk. Robert followed with Claire’s overnight bag and the flowers people had sent. Most arrangements contained lilies, which Claire disliked because their scent reminded her of funeral homes.
The porch light came on automatically.
Claire stayed in the passenger seat.
The new silver lock shone against the blue front door. Beside it, the garage keypad was dark. A small scrape marked the lock where Eric’s bent key had struck it.
Megan waited.
“I don’t want to go in,” Claire said.
“We can go to my place.”
“No.”
“Dad’s?”
“No.”
“Back to the hospital lobby?”
Claire almost smiled. “They’ll charge me for parking.”
Megan rested both hands on the steering wheel.
Inside the house, the refrigerator would contain the soup Robert had made and the yogurt Megan bought. Eric’s coffee would still be in the cabinet. His shoes would still be beneath the bench. Only an overnight bag had been placed outside. Everything else remained in the rooms where he had left it.
Claire opened the car door.
Crossing the porch took longer than she expected. Her abdomen hurt. Her legs felt unreliable. She held the railing and stared at the lock.
Megan offered the new key.
Claire did not take it.
“You do it.”
“Are you sure?”
“No.”
Megan unlocked the door.
The house smelled faintly of sawdust and the citrus cleaner Eric used on weekends. Robert had turned on two lamps. He had also moved the deed into the desk drawer, exactly where Claire told him not to put important documents because the drawer stuck in humid weather.
Eric’s charcoal office shirt hung over the back of a dining chair.
Claire stopped when she saw it.
She remembered buying the shirt during a sale. Eric had tried it on in the store and made her choose between charcoal and navy. When she chose navy, he bought charcoal because he said he wanted to see whether she would defend her opinion. She had laughed at the time.
“Do you want me to move that?” Megan asked.
“No.”
They walked through the rooms slowly.
Nothing had been broken. Nothing had been taken except Eric’s laptop, his work bag, and the framed photograph from their wedding that usually stood on his bedside table. His toothbrush remained in the bathroom. So did the inhaler Megan had packed and then, apparently, removed from his overnight bag after discovering a second one in his car.
The nursery door was closed.
Claire opened it.
The crib stood beneath the window. A stuffed rabbit leaned against one corner even though the nurse at their childbirth class had told them not to place toys inside. Eric said they would remove it when the baby came home.
The wooden name sign remained wrapped in brown paper on the closet shelf. It read OLIVIA.
Claire sat in the rocking chair.
Megan picked up the rabbit. “I’ll put this in the closet.”
“Leave it.”
“It can’t stay in the crib.”
“The baby isn’t here.”
Megan set it back.
Claire looked at the three-inch gap along the baseboard. “He was right about the table.”
“What?”
“It didn’t fit.”
Megan waited.
“I ordered it without measuring.”
“That doesn’t mean he gets to leave you on a road.”
“I know.”
“Do you?”
Claire ran one hand over the arm of the chair. “I’m trying to figure out which things are connected.”
“Not all of them are.”
“That would be easier.”
Megan sat on the floor because the only other chair held folded baby clothes. “You can be inconsiderate and still not deserve cruelty. You can make mistakes and still own your house. You can be angry and still be telling the truth.”
Claire looked at her sister.
Megan picked lint from her jeans. “I read that somewhere.”
“Of course you did.”
“I wasn’t born with useful sentences.”
For several minutes, they listened to a lawn mower somewhere behind the neighboring houses. The sound moved back and forth, steady and absurdly normal.
Claire’s phone buzzed.
Eric had sent an email because his text messages were now muted.
He requested a time to collect his remaining belongings. He wrote that he would cooperate with a neutral third party. He also asked again for a photograph of Lucy and for confirmation of her full legal name.
At the end, he wrote:
Whatever happened between us, she deserves both parents.
Claire read the line until the words blurred.
“Do you think he loves her?” she asked.
Megan did not answer immediately. “Yes.”
Claire looked toward the crib.
“I wish he didn’t.”
“I know.”
“That would make everything simple.”
“I know.”
Claire closed the email without replying.
The next morning, she found Eric’s coffee mug beside the sink. Robert had washed it and left it upside down on a towel. The mug bore the logo of Eric’s company, Bennett Commercial Interiors, though Eric had no partners or relatives involved in the business. He liked the sound of a family name on a building.
Claire turned the mug upright.
A brown ring remained inside.
May you like
She filled the sink and washed it again.
Halfway through, she began crying so quietly that Robert did not notice until he entered carrying a bowl of oatmeal.
