“Why not?” I found it hard to swallow, as if my throat were swollen.
“No way, José.” He pulled away from me so he could look at my face. Maybe he was trying to assess whether I was joking.
I didn’t have enough saliva in my mouth. “I loved being pregnant.”
He seemed to recognize that I was serious; the smile on his face vanished. “What if I want you for myself?”
Ian had grown too attached to me. I hadn’t judged the situation accurately. He didn’t want to lose my body to the Straubs and the Straubs’ baby. I was angry with myself for my shortsightedness. Still, he was my primary connection to the Straubs, and I needed him.
* * *
I had a chance to reestablish myself in the Straubs’ lives and a possibility of claiming a permanent place. In the last two weeks, I’d grown to understand how crucial it was for me to cement my relationship with them. I had a vision of myself as the central source of power in their home and family, without which nothing could function—essential to their well-being and indispensable.
In the morning, I sent Amelia a text. Hope you’re feeling OK.
She didn’t respond.
The following day, I sent another one: Thinking of you.
She didn’t respond.
The day after, I wrote: I would love to visit you and see Natalie. Picking up the dry cleaning. If OK, I’ll swing by and drop it off.
This time, she wrote back: Sure.
In less than a minute, my coat and boots were on and I was out the door—on my way to see Amelia again.
* * *
I rang the doorbell, dry cleaning in hand. Amelia answered the door. My joy in seeing her was swiftly undercut by the silhouette of a pregnant Lucia behind her and down the hallway. Why was Lucia in the house? I took it as a bad sign. The chorus of “London Bridge Is Falling Down” (which I’d heard at a recent birthday party) was stuck in my head. I once read that the lyrics had to do with burying children alive in the foundation of the bridge as a sacrifice.
Lucia looked much more pregnant than she had two weeks earlier, but she also appeared more sophisticated and poised. She was wearing a subtle brown eye shadow as opposed to bright purple. The new and improved Lucia likely posed a greater threat to me.
I feared she might bring up our email exchange.
“Delta, you shouldn’t have.” Amelia took the dry cleaning from my hand and hung it in the hall closet. The colors of her mustard-green blouse and kelly-green pants were disconcertingly off and clashing. Her foundation was not applied evenly and visibly caked on her forehead. She was losing the polish that created distance between her and the rest of the world. I was conflicted, because I’d always wanted to bridge that distance. But I was also mildly disappointed that she looked ordinary. More concerning, however, was her exposure in front of Lucia. I didn’t want her to let down her guard in front of this woman who wasn’t her friend.
Lucia approached closer to the front door. Itzhak trailed behind her, wagging his tail.
“Lucia, do you remember our friend, Delta?”
“Yes.” She looked through me, avoiding eye contact. Fortunately, it appeared that Lucia did not want to acknowledge our previous interaction either.
“The date is fast approaching.” I hadn’t expected that I’d ever see Lucia in person again. The sight of her was hard to take.
Amelia motioned us down the hall and to the dining table. I sat down across from Lucia.
“What a lovely sunset.” I chose to concentrate on the brilliant pink sky through the glass doors until I got my bearings.
Amelia poured wine for me and sparkling water for Lucia. Over the last few months, I’d developed a distaste for inferior wine. Cheap wine made me view myself in a certain light, as belonging to a certain socioeconomic class. So I was astonished, frankly, when I saw Amelia with an eight-dollar bottle of wine in her hand. Perhaps someone had given her the bottle and she hadn’t paid attention to the label.
Amelia sat down next to me and across from Lucia. “Lucia and I … we’re discussing some of the options she has,” Amelia said in a careful and controlled tone of voice. “We’ve had a few conversations over the past week, just talking it all through.”
I patted Itzhak, who had sidled up next to me. The dog provided me with a welcome point of focus.
“But I’ve decided already.… I’m not still deciding,” Lucia said. “Ron wants to be with me and the baby. I came here because I thought I should apologize, because I’m sorry I said yes before.” Lucia clearly felt guilty. She was rambling, but she wasn’t confused.
I had that same sensation of lightness and buoyancy again. Two pictures of Ron alternated in my brain: 1.) a shifty slacker who operated just barely inside the law; 2.) an ambitious and outwardly respectable guy who didn’t want to get strapped with a wife and baby, both of whom would limit his future prospects.
No matter his profile, my photograph of Lucia had succeeded in exerting power over him.
“I’m very sorry.” Lucia looked down at the ground.
Amelia’s catlike movements and sounds came to the fore when she was on edge. She was the opposite of approachable. If I were able to see inside her mouth, I was sure I would have seen her biting her tongue so hard that she was drawing blood.
I noticed a silver ring on Lucia’s right middle finger that I hadn’t seen before. Perhaps it was a promise ring. She was too young to know how meaningless a promise ring was.
“He loves me. Ron knows what he wants.” Lucia appeared to feel less vulnerable than the last time I saw her. Obviously, she believed that she had an ally in Ron. And maybe she did.
“Sweetheart.” Amelia smiled broadly, showing her teeth. The smile was an attempt at friendliness but veered toward a grimace. She took a large sip of her wine. “I believe he’s in love with you. Who wouldn’t be? But it’s a lot of pressure to put on your relationship. Financial and emotional pressure.” She studied Lucia’s face, as if looking for agreement. I noticed Lucia’s jaw tighten. Amelia smoothed her blouse down, then meticulously rolled up her sleeves. “What do you think, Delta?” she said amiably. There was a right answer and a wrong answer to the question.
“I think that you and Ron should be together,” I said to Lucia.
Amelia’s body stiffened.
“But you’re very young to have a baby,” I said.
“Ron wants to be a father,” Lucia said.
“In a few years, of course,” Amelia said calmly, “when you’ve finished school and have a job. There’s time for everything.” She spoke as if she had some real authority over the girl, as if Lucia were obliged to follow her directions. Amelia was so accustomed to her demands being acceded. She considered herself wiser than everyone in the room and thought others ought to be grateful for her superior opinion. I wondered if her demeanor was a strategy, developed in order to get her own way. In this case, the strategy looked to be backfiring.
“Ron loves our baby.” Lucia put her hand on her belly. “This baby.” I saw the almost imperceptible smile on Lucia’s face as she touched the baby and I knew that Amelia’s chances had diminished. Lucia had allowed herself to fall in love with her child. Even if Ron didn’t stick around, the adoption prospects didn’t look strong for Amelia.
I doubted that Amelia saw what I did. Maybe she chose not to. She was focused on Lucia’s words. “Sweetheart, he disappeared for six months.” She continued to speak in a calm, slow, and deliberate voice, but I could tell that it was an effort to do so.
“He was struggling,” Lucia said.
“Drugs?” Amelia licked her lips twice.
Lucia shrugged.
“Addiction issues?”
Lucia moved her head very slightly. I wasn’t positive if she was nodding or just looking down.
Here Amelia’s careful tone and manner started to disintegrate. “That shit never goes away.” It was as if she’d run out of the lubricating oil she’d been applying to her voice and, all of a sudden, we could hear its t
rue, shrill quality.
Lucia visibly flinched, like she’d been cut.
“You need to know the truth,” Amelia continued. “Before the baby turns one, Ron will take off, best-case scenario. Worst, he’ll stay and slap you around when he’s had a few too many.”
I needed to eliminate Lucia, but Amelia was doing a better job alienating her than I’d ever be able to on my own. With Amelia’s last speech, Lucia turned off. It was clear to me she’d made up her mind and there was no going back.
“You don’t know him.” Lucia’s distress surrounded her like a dense fog. She was unreachable.
“I know enough,” Amelia said.
“I need to leave.” Lucia pushed her chair back and stood up, using the table to support her weight.
Amelia froze for an instant. It was as if she were drunk and someone had thrown a glass of ice water in her face. She rushed around to the opposite side of the table. “Sweetheart, I didn’t mean that. I didn’t mean that.” She tried to push Lucia back down into the chair.
“I understand you.” Lucia elbowed her aside. She was stronger than I’d realized.
I saw the markings of unspeakable pain and loss etched on Amelia’s face. It was like gravity’s weight on her had increased tenfold in the last three minutes. “I’m feeling so anxious,” she said to Lucia. “Please forgive me.”
“You don’t know him. You really don’t.” Lucia had no need to convince Amelia of Ron’s character. But I could tell that she wanted to. The disparaging statements about Ron were painful to her.
“Please give yourself a few days,” Amelia said. “To weigh all the information you have.”
Lucia nodded reluctantly, but we all knew which way this was going.
While Amelia called a car for Lucia and walked her outside, I found my coat and boots. I felt that it would be in my best interest to leave quickly.
As I was on my way out the door, Amelia stopped me. “Stay for a minute, Delta.” She reached for my hand with cold fingers and a searching look in her eyes.
I followed her to the back of the house and sat down across from her at the dining table. She leaned toward me so she could speak quietly and still be heard, though we were alone in the house. “I offered Ron money to give up the baby.”
This was beyond what I’d expected, but I was nevertheless impressed and strangely proud. I admired her audacity.
“When did you talk to him?” I asked.
She spoke in a small, tight voice. “I went to Lucia’s house last week. Ron was there.”
Itzhak moaned lightly and repositioned himself on the hardwood floor.
“Did she hear you?”
“She was out of the room.”
“Well, let’s see.…” I didn’t want Amelia to end up in jail, nor did I want a PR scandal. At the same time, I didn’t believe it would be constructive to criticize her for actions already taken.
Her eyes filled with tears. “Ron is … everything you wouldn’t want for your daughter … opportunistic, dull, arrogant, lazy … it would be a mother’s deepest heartache to see a daughter with a man like him. And Lucia’s mother, her pain, her pain, I can’t imagine, to see it all unfolding before her eyes. The potential death of her daughter’s future.”
“But the baby, then … Your baby would be biologically related to Ron. Would that concern you?”
“You think I don’t know that?” Her words and saliva came toward me all at once.
I was surprised by the fury in her voice. It was an indication of her instability. Her madness.
“Yes,” she said. “There is risk in adoption.”
“I didn’t mean…”
“That loser is not sticking around to raise the child.” She pushed her hair behind her ears. “And Lucia’s an idiot. Because she thinks he is. He wants to get laid and he wants to tell his loser friends he has a kid, because that’s proof he got laid. Proof of his manhood.”
“But if that’s her decision…” I tried to point out the obvious, hoping she’d recognize that the path of Lucia was closed.
“You think I don’t see that I have nothing? No power and nothing. I get it, Delta. I get it.”
From my point of view, Amelia had limitless power. I thought about possible responses that wouldn’t anger her. “I think you could fix the situation, if you want to.”
“It’s too late.” She looked down and ran her thumb through the grooves in the antique farmhouse table.
“What did you say to him?” I tried to modulate my voice so it wouldn’t sound at all critical.
“That I would be happy to loan him fifty thousand.” Her eyes remained glued to the table.
“Loan?” I was relieved to hear the word loan. How could you go to jail for loaning money to someone?
“Yes, but I think he knew. That the ‘loan’ … it was conditional and euphemistic. He’s not the brightest bulb, but he probably understands that much.”
“Does Fritz know?”
Amelia rubbed a water-ring stain on the table with her finger, as if she might be able to remove it. “Well, I already talked about her tuition and other kinds of expenses.”
“You could say—”
Amelia began to cry. “Whatever I say … it’s not going to make a difference. She wants to keep the baby. She hates me.”
I walked around the table to where she was sitting and put my arms around her shoulders. “It’s OK, Amelia. It’s going to be OK. She doesn’t hate you. Let’s just wait to see what happens.”
Amelia continued to cry.
“It may be all right.”
CHAPTER TWELVE
It was clear that Lucia wanted to keep her baby. But it was hard to judge how greedy Ron was. On the off chance that Lucia and Ron came back, Lucia needed to know that Amelia had tried to bribe Ron. I felt mild guilt about my plan, but any child of Ron’s was likely to have long-term problems, with potential addiction issues, and make the Straubs miserable eventually.
I woke up on Thursday morning, drank two cups of coffee, and called Lucia. She sounded surprised to hear my voice.
“Amelia feels bad,” I said. “She said things she didn’t mean.”
“It’s OK.” Lucia spoke with finality, as if hoping to get off the phone quickly.
“She feels bad about both conversations.” I attempted a somber tone when I said the word both that would imply something untoward.
“Both?”
“The one at your house too.”
“Yes?” She sounded confused.
“You know…” I paused for four seconds. “That she had the conversation with Ron when you weren’t in the room. I mean, she knew he’d talk to you about it later. It wasn’t like she was trying to hide anything. It’s just … she doesn’t want you to think she was offering to pay Ron for the baby.”
There were a few seconds of silence.
“Excuse me?” Lucia’s voice came through the phone receiver clipped and high.
“Well … the fifty thousand…” I paused again. “It was a loan.”
“What are you talking about?” For the first time, I heard an edge in Lucia’s voice.
“She wasn’t offering to pay Ron for the baby,” I said.
I heard her breath come through the receiver. “Don’t call me again,” she said in a low, steady voice. She hung up the phone.
Lucia was gone from our lives for good. And opportunities were opening up for me.
* * *
On Friday I sent Amelia a text and asked if she’d like me to babysit.
Ten minutes later she wrote back. She said yes. She said yes.
I had barely survived the strain of the previous three weeks. I felt as though I’d been drowning and Amelia’s text was a life preserver tossed in my direction.
When I arrived at the Straubs’ house late that afternoon, Natalie answered the door. I’d missed Natalie terribly. The sight of her face fortified me.
She brightened when she saw me. Maybe she’d missed me too.
I kissed he
r forehead. “How are you, honey?”
I hung my down coat on one of several glass hooks in the hallway.
“Mom and Dad are … crazy.” Natalie walked in the direction of the kitchen, and I followed. “Mainly Mom. The whole baby thing. I don’t know what their problem is.” She was wearing tight jeans and a glittery T-shirt with a picture of a purple unicorn on it. I could see her sharp shoulder blades and ribs through her shirt. I could see her hip bones, too, and wondered whether she was eating. Whether her parents’ anxiety had infected her.
She sat down at the kitchen island, on one of the leather-and-stainless kitchen stools, and I sat next to her. Her eyes appeared huge in her face and her skin was even more translucent than usual. She chewed on her fingernails or her fingers. I couldn’t tell which.
Itzhak lay in his usual spot on the kitchen floor nearby. He whimpered quietly.
“Mom said that you have a son in California. Why don’t you ever talk about him?”
I wasn’t troubled by Natalie’s comment. I’d known that the Straubs were eventually going to ask more about my son. But I’d grown to understand who Jasper was in a fuller way and would actually relish talking about him. “I haven’t wanted to bother you or your mom with my troubles.”
Natalie examined her fingernails, which were bitten down to the quick. “I know you’re divorced. Piper’s parents got divorced. Sometimes I think my parents should too. They act like they hate each other.” She wore a bracelet made out of colored beads that spelled her name. “Piper said her parents are better friends now that they’re divorced.”
“All marriages have problems, but they usually work out.”
“Why didn’t yours?”
The late-afternoon sun flooded in through the three sets of bifold doors behind Natalie, casting long shadows into the room.
“There are exceptions. You need to make a good choice.” I squinted in order to see her.
“What’s your son’s name?” she asked.
“Jasper.” I could see Jasper in my mind’s eye, golden skin, dark locks of hair, large brown eyes, small and wiry body. I visualized him in California with his father, at the beach among the waves and whitecaps, his toes sinking into the wet sand beneath him.
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