Chương 8
Elena read the agreement twice.
“This is not retroactive,” she said. “It applies going forward.”
Adrian stood beside the bassinet, bouncing one knee.
“It says recipients must avoid conduct that brings public disrepute.”
“That is vague.”
“It means they can take it later.”
“It means they want control.”
“So I don’t sign.”
Elena looked at him over the paper. “Eighteen thousand dollars.”
“I know the number.”
“You say it as though refusing is free.”
“I’m not signing something that lets Mrs. Bell decide whether I embarrass her.”
“The board decides.”
“She chairs the board.”
“She voted to keep your scholarship.”
“You don’t know that.”
“She supported you in the meeting.”
“After her comment was online.”
Elena set the agreement down. “You are turning her into the whole problem because she is easier to hate than a paragraph written by an attorney.”
Adrian stopped moving.
“What is that supposed to mean?”
“It means the foundation’s lawyer probably drafted this. It means trustees are afraid of another viral controversy. It means Margaret Bell was cruel, apologized, and may still be doing the right thing for reasons you do not trust.”
“So I should trust her?”
“I did not say that.”
“You keep defending her.”
“I am defending accuracy.”
Lucy began making hungry noises.
Adrian lifted her and checked the clock.
Elena watched him prepare the bottle. He tested the formula against his wrist, adjusted the nipple, and sat in the recliner without once looking at the agreement.
“Daniel Reyes called me,” she said.
“The reporter?”
“He has evidence the fundraiser organizer ran two similar campaigns last year.”
“Did he get it taken down?”
“The platform froze withdrawals.”
“That’s something.”
“He wants an interview about the scholarship.”
“No.”
“I agree.”
Adrian looked surprised.
Elena folded the agreement. “Public pressure may help. It may also turn every decision you make into a vote.”
“People already vote.”
“We do not have to hand them ballots.”
Maya came over that evening for Lucy’s bath.
It was the first time she had entered the Cole house since the birth. She moved carefully, one hand sometimes pressing against her abdomen when she believed no one was looking. Her blond hair was tied in a loose knot. She had lost weight in a way that did not look healthy.
Elena set a towel on the kitchen table.
“You can sit,” she told Maya.
“I’m tired of sitting.”
“You can stand and resent me, or sit and resent me. Both are available.”
Maya lowered herself into a chair.
Adrian filled the plastic baby tub in the sink. He checked the temperature twice.
“You’re using too much water,” Maya said.
“It barely covers the bottom.”
“She doesn’t need to swim.”
“She is not swimming.”
Elena leaned against the counter. “This is going well.”
Maya gave her a weak smile.
When Adrian unwrapped Lucy from the pink blanket, the baby’s legs drew up against her stomach. Maya touched one tiny foot.
“She’s peeling.”
“Normal,” Elena said.
“I know it’s normal.”
“I was reassuring you.”
“I know.”
Adrian lowered Lucy into the water. She opened her eyes and made an outraged sound.
Maya startled.
“She’s okay,” Adrian said.
“You don’t know that.”
“She hates baths.”
“This is her second one.”
“She hated the first.”
“You used the hospital sink.”
“It was a basin.”
“It looked like a sink.”
Elena stepped back, allowing them to argue.
Lucy cried harder. Adrian’s hands became too cautious, hovering instead of washing. Maya reached for the cloth.
“Give it to me.”
“I have it.”
“You’re moving too slowly.”
“She’s slippery.”
“So support her neck.”
“I am supporting her neck.”
“You’re making her cold.”
Adrian pushed the cloth toward her. “Then you do it.”
Maya flinched.
He regretted the tone, but she had already stood.
“Fine.”
She placed one hand beneath Lucy’s head and began washing her chest. Her movements were competent for ten seconds. Then Lucy kicked, water splashed, and Maya’s face changed.
The cloth dropped.
“I can’t.”
Adrian took the baby.
Maya backed away from the sink. “I can’t, I can’t, I can’t.”
Elena caught her before she hit the table.
Adrian wrapped Lucy in the towel while Maya pressed both hands over her mouth. The baby’s crying filled the kitchen.
“Breathe,” Elena said.
“Don’t tell me to breathe.”
“All right.”
“I hate when people say that.”
“Then don’t breathe. See how long that works.”
Maya made a sound between a sob and a laugh.
Adrian held Lucy against his chest. “She’s fine.”
Maya looked at him with fury. “Stop saying that.”
He stopped.
Elena guided Maya into the chair.
For several minutes, the only words in the room came from the digital kitchen timer, which announced that the baked chicken was finished. No one moved to turn it off. It beeped until Elena finally crossed the room and pressed the button.
Maya stared at the wet cloth in the sink.
“My therapist says I have postpartum anxiety,” she said.
Adrian sat opposite her with Lucy wrapped in the towel.
“Okay.”
“That’s all?”
“What should I say?”
“I don’t know.”
“Neither do I.”
“She thinks I should start medication.”
“What do you think?”
“I think the warning label is four pages long.”
Elena opened the oven. “Every warning label is four pages long. Aspirin sounds like a murder weapon if you read the insert.”
Maya looked at her.
“I’m not giving medical advice,” Elena added. “I am saying fear has excellent formatting.”
Adrian dried Lucy’s hair.
Maya watched him. “I want to come back.”
He paused.
“To the apartment?” he asked.
Before Lucy’s birth, Adrian and Maya had planned to move into a small unit above Rachel’s brother’s garage. The plan lasted until the landlord—Rachel’s brother—learned his homeowner’s insurance would not cover the arrangement. Since then, there had been no apartment.
“I mean come back to her,” Maya said.
“You didn’t leave her.”
“I did.”
“You had surgery.”
“I keep hearing that like it answers everything.”
“What do you want me to say?”
May you like
“The truth.”
He wrapped the pink blanket around Lucy.
