“Do you want her?”
Don’t tell him the truth!
“I ... I don’t know what I want. I want you. I want to make you happy…”
“But, not Estella?”
His voice is catching edge. The edge that usually indicates I’m in big trouble. I try to work my way out of it.
“Of course I want her. I’m her mother…”
My voice lacks conviction. I used to be such an accomplished liar.
“What you did after that … was that planned out too?”
I watch his chest play the in/out game. Rapid angry breaths … he’s steeling himself for my answer.
I suck in all the air that the sky has to offer. I pull it until my lungs burn. I don’t want to let it go. I want to hold that air and hold the confession he’s forcing out of me. I don’t have to tell him the truth.
“Caleb...”
“God, Leah, just tell me the truth…”
He runs a hand through his hair, walks a couple paces to the left so that I can only see his back.
“I was upset … Courtney-“
He cuts me off. “Did you do it to make me come back?”
I swallow. Fuck. If I say no, he’ll keep asking me questions until he traps me.
“Yes.”
He swears and drops to his haunches, his fingertips pressed on his forehead like he’s trying to hold his thoughts in.
“I think I need time to think.”
“No, Caleb!” I shake my head from side to side. He shakes his up and down. We look like a couple of distraught bobble heads.
The whirlpool starts, panic sucking me down until I whimper, “Don’t leave me again. I can’t take care of her alone.” I drop my head.
“You won’t have to, Leah.”
I look up at him hopefully.
“I’ll take her with me. She’s my daughter; I’ll take care of her.”
Oh God. What have I done now?
He gets up, turns on the Cat’s engine and we are slicing back toward shore, the remnants of my sanity shredding.
The minute he ties us to the dock, I am off the boat and racing to my phone, which I left in his car. I want to get out of here. My fingers become boneless as I fumble with the screen, jabbing uselessly. I dial a taxi service and tell them my location. I am shivering despite the heat. My God, what was I thinking telling him that? I can barely breathe as I see him walk down the dock and toward where I am perched against the hood of his car. Even in lieu of our current situation, my heart stirs at the sight of him. I love him so much my heart aches. He won’t look at me. I don’t know what this means, but thinking is never a good thing. Thinking stirs up a dangerous maelstrom of emotion. My emotion almost drowned me once. I don’t want to go back there.
The gravel shifts beneath his feet as he walks to where I sit. My arms are wrapped around my waist as I try to press my sanity back into my torso. He stops a few feet away. He’s coming to check on me. He hates me at this moment, but he’s coming to check on me. “I called a cab,” I say. He nods and looks out at the water, which is just visible beyond the copse of trees where he parked his car.
“I’m going to stay here,” he says. “I’ll call you when I’m back so I can pick up Estella.”
My head snaps up. “Pick her up?’ Oh yeah, that.
“I’m going to take her to stay with me for a while at my condo.”
I breathe through my nose, grappling with my emotions, trying to rein back control of the situation.
“You can’t take her from me,” I say through clenched teeth.
“I’m not trying to. You don’t want her, Leah. I need some time to think, and it’s better if she stays with me.” He rubs his forehead while I calmly panic.
I want to scream — Don’t think! Don’t think!
“What about work? You can’t take care of her with your work schedule.”
I’m trying to buy time. I messed up, but I can fix this. I can be a good mother and a good wife…
“She’s more important than work. I’ll take some time off. I have a trip next week, after that, I’ll come get her.”
My thoughts drag. I can’t come up with excuses for why he can’t do this to me. I can use the baby as leverage — threaten him — but that would screw me in the long run. If he wants to take some time, maybe I should let him. Maybe, I need time too.
I nod.
He presses his lips together until they burn white. Neither of us says anything for the next twenty minutes. He waits with me until the dingy looking cab pulls up, spraying gravel at our ankles until it comes to a stop. I climb in, refusing to meet his eyes. Perhaps he is waiting for me to turn around and tell him that it was all a lie. I look straight ahead.
The drive from the Keys back to Miami is taken across narrow patches of land that stretch out over deep blue water. I refuse to think … all the way home. I just can’t do it. I focus on the cars we pass. I look in their windows and judge their passengers: sunburned families coming from vacation, blue collared workers with bored expressions, a woman crying as she sings along with the radio. I look away when I see that one. I don’t need to be reminded about tears.
When I get home, Sam has just put the baby down for the night. He studies my face and opens his mouth, the questions ready to pour out.
“Don’t fucking say anything,” I snap. His mouth is still hanging open when I storm up the stairs and slam my door. I hear his Jeep pull out of the driveway a few minutes later, and I peek through the drapes to make sure he’s gone. I pace around my room, flicking my fingernails, and trying to decide what to do about this mess Olivia created. Then almost abruptly, I jerk toward the hall and slip inside of the baby’s room. Tiptoeing to her crib, I peer over the edge like I expect to find a snake instead of a sleeping infant.
She is on her back, her head to the side. She's managed to wriggle a hand free of Sam’s swaddling and she has it fisted and partially in her mouth. Every few seconds, she starts sucking on it so fiercely I think she is going to wake herself up. I back up a few steps in case she sees me. I don’t even know if she can see me yet. Mothers usually keep charts of these things — first smile, first burp, first whatever. I tilt my head and look at her again. She’s grown, gotten a little less — yuck. I’m surprised that I can actually see myself in her face, the curve of her nose and the sharp chin. Babies usually just look like blobs until they’re four, but this one has a little character to her face. I suppose that if any baby were to be cuter than the rest, it would be mine. I linger for another moment before stepping out. I close the door and then I open it, remembering that I am on my own tonight. No Caleb. No Sam. Not even my self-absorbed, alcoholic mother. I have watched Sam and Caleb enough with the baby to know the basics. You feed it, it craps the food out, you wipe away the crap, you put it in the crib … you drink.
Oh God. I slide down the wall until my butt hits the tile, and drop my head between my knees. I can’t help feeling sorry for myself. I didn’t ask for this life — to be loved second best and to be forced to have a baby. I wanted … I wanted what Olivia had and threw away — someone who adores me even though my insides curl and lash like a poisonous snake. No! I think. I am not the poisonous snake. Olivia is. Everything that I’ve had to do is her fault. I am innocent. I fall asleep that way, sniffling and wiping my nose on my pant leg, assuring myself of my innocence and listening to my daughter breathe. Maybe she’d be better off without me. Maybe I’d be better off without her.
I wake up to a siren. Fire! I jump up, my muscles unraveling in protest. I am disoriented and not sure where I am. It is dark, still night. I place a hand against the wall and sniff for smoke. Not a siren … a baby. I am not really relieved; I might have preferred the fire. I head to the kitchen, knocking things over in my haste to find a bottle and a pack of breast milk. I swear out loud. Sam must have moved things around, because I can’t find anything. Then I see the note taped to the fridge.