Chương 7
Lucy developed a preference for sleeping from seven until eleven at night and remaining awake from eleven-oh-five until dawn.
Adrian walked the hallway with her pressed to his shoulder. He learned which floorboards creaked and how far the bathroom door could close before the hinge squealed. He learned that Elena talked in her sleep when exhausted. Twice she said, “I’m coming,” and sat up before realizing Lucy was already in his arms.
On Saturday morning, Adrian fell asleep in the recliner while holding an empty bottle.
Elena found Lucy awake against his chest.
The baby was safe, tucked inside the curve of his arm, but Elena’s fear arrived before reason. She lifted Lucy too quickly. Adrian woke with both hands closing on air.
“What happened?”
“You fell asleep.”
“She’s okay.”
“You fell asleep holding her.”
“I know that now.”
“You could have dropped her.”
“The chair was reclined.”
“That does not make it safe.”
He sat up, disoriented and angry. “I was awake for twenty hours.”
“That is why you put her in the bassinet.”
“She cried every time I did.”
“Babies cry.”
“You say that until she cries.”
“I say it while she cries.”
“You take her every time.”
“Because you look like you’re going to break.”
The sentence remained between them.
Adrian’s face emptied.
Elena regretted it before he stood.
“I have her,” she said.
“Clearly.”
He walked toward his room.
“Adrian.”
He closed the door.
Lucy began crying in Elena’s arms.
For the next hour, Elena did not knock. She fed the baby, changed her, and placed her in the bassinet. She washed the bottle. She wiped an already clean counter. She opened the refrigerator three times without removing anything.
At ten, Adrian emerged wearing work clothes.
“Where are you going?”
“Davis Auto called. They need someone in shipping.”
“You start Monday.”
“They need help today.”
“You need sleep.”
“I need money.”
“We have money.”
“No, you have money.”
“This is not a debate.”
“Then why are we talking?”
Elena pressed both palms against the counter. “Because you cannot care for an infant, work thirty hours a week, fight a scholarship board, and begin college in August on two hours of sleep.”
“You did.”
“I nearly destroyed myself.”
“But you did it.”
“I am not a success manual.”
He looked away.
That hurt her more than if he had shouted.
Elena lowered her voice. “You made me sound brave on that stage.”
“You were.”
“I was reckless too. I drove after night shifts with you strapped behind me and no memory of half the road. I left you with a neighbor I barely knew because I would have been fired if I missed work. I once watered down formula because I was six dollars short until payday.”
Adrian stared at her.
She had never told him that.
“I thought you breastfed me.”
“For a while.”
“You said—”
“I said what I could stand to say.”
Lucy made a small sound in the bassinet.
Elena looked toward her.
“You do not honor me by repeating my worst decisions,” she said.
Adrian’s anger weakened, leaving exhaustion beneath it.
“What am I supposed to do?”
“Sleep for three hours. Then go to work if you still think the building will collapse without you.”
“It might.”
“It sells brake pads.”
He almost smiled.
Elena pointed toward his room. “Three hours.”
He slept for four.
At Davis Auto Parts, the shipping manager placed him beside a conveyor and told him not to discuss the video with customers, reporters, or coworkers during paid time.
“I wasn’t planning to,” Adrian said.
The manager, Mr. Dugan, scratched his gray beard. “People are already talking about it in receiving.”
“Then maybe tell them.”
“I’m telling everybody.”
“Did everybody make a speech?”
Mr. Dugan looked at him for a long second. “Your mother said you had a mouth.”
“You know my mother?”
“She applied for evening inventory work Thursday.”
The room seemed to tilt slightly.
“What?”
Mr. Dugan picked up a clipboard. “I assumed you knew.”
“What hours?”
“Six to ten, three nights a week.”
“She works until five at the dental office.”
“I don’t manage her calendar.”
“She doesn’t need another job.”
“That sounds like a conversation for your house.”
Adrian worked the conveyor for twenty-three minutes before requesting a break.
He called Elena.
She did not answer.
He called again.
On the third attempt, she picked up and said, “Someone had better be bleeding.”
“You applied here?”
Silence.
“Mom.”
“I was going to tell you.”
“When?”
“When there was something to tell.”
“You said we had money.”
“We do.”
“Then why do you need a second job?”
“Because having money and having eighteen thousand dollars are different conditions.”
“The scholarship isn’t gone.”
“It may be.”
“I can defer.”
“You lose university aid if you defer without an approved reason.”
“I have a newborn. That seems like a reason.”
“Reasons and approvals are not the same thing.”
“I can go to community college.”
“You want engineering.”
“They have transfer classes.”
“You earned a place at Northern Ohio State.”
“And you earned sleep.”
Elena exhaled into the phone. Dental equipment whined faintly behind her.
“Go back to work,” she said.
“Withdraw the application.”
“You do not give me instructions.”
“Neither do you.”
“I am your mother.”
“And I’m Lucy’s father, which everyone suddenly finds inspiring until I make an actual decision.”
“What decision?”
“I’m not letting you work two jobs.”
“That is not your decision.”
He ended the call.
Mr. Dugan stood ten feet away, pretending to check a shipping label.
“You tell anyone about this,” Adrian said, “I’ll deny crying in your break room.”
“You’re not in the break room.”
“I’ll deny that too.”
Mr. Dugan grunted. “Your mother was difficult at eighteen.”
“She’s difficult now.”
“That part stayed consistent.”
He handed Adrian the clipboard.
May you like
The foundation’s final decision arrived by certified email on Tuesday.
The scholarship would remain awarded, but payment would be delayed until Adrian provided proof of full-time fall enrollment and signed a revised recipient agreement concerning public conduct at foundation-sponsored events.
