The Break(8)

“June,” I hear him say into his phone, and the desperation in his voice sends heat across my face. He speaks in a steady stream that makes me think it’s a voice mail. I catch only pieces of it.

“Are you there, June? I need to see you. I just want to talk to you . . .”

I bounce a little so Lila stays sleeping and warm. It actually feels good to be the one watching. I’ve been on the receiving end of so many scrutinizing glances lately. I know I should call out to Harrison, but I can’t risk him calling Gabe. I think about leaving and trying to give him some privacy, but a breath later he shoves his phone into his pocket. And then he takes off.

I wait a beat, watching the streetlight turn from blazing red to green as Harrison disappears around a corner. I pat Lila’s back as I cross the street toward June’s, thinking about how if June’s home, she’s obviously not in the mood to buzz in visitors, at least not Harrison and most certainly not me. But if I could get in the building somehow and knock on her door, she might open it up if she saw me through the peephole. The element of surprise is a powerful technique, a writing teacher used to remind me, her gray coils springing.

I stop outside June’s building and wait. Teenagers shoot hoops across the street in a lot that looks as if it belongs to a public school. A streetlamp lights them enough that I can make out the perspiration glistening on their faces. New Yorkers pass me—a woman lugging groceries, a boy cruising on a skateboard, another angling his phone to take photos of the graffiti marking June’s building. I avoid their glances, hoisting Lila higher so I can press my lips against her cheek. I’m creeping along the edge of dread as I wait and watch, feeling like a stalker for doing something like this.

Finally out of June’s building comes a man talking on his phone and nudging along a bucket filled with gray water. “Excuse me,” I say pleasantly, trying to look like I belong here as I slip past him into the warmth of the hallway. I think I’ve made it, but then I hear his voice.

“Forget your key?” he asks, and I turn to see him holding open the front door like he decided not to leave. His eyes are all over my face. He mumbles goodbye into his phone and disconnects, looking even more suspicious of me the longer he stares. A tiny bit of water sloshes over the bucket onto the linoleum. “You new here?” he asks. Chilled air rushes inside as we stare at each other. Lila lets out a squawk that’s enough to draw his attention to her. He shuts the door and his features soften. “I’m visiting June Waters in 4D,” I say, a quiver on my lips. I’ve never been here before, but I know June’s apartment number from the résumé she left with us as a formality. “June is our babysitter,” I say, gesturing to Lila.

“I see,” he says, nodding like it all adds up. “Go on up then, elevator down that hall.”

I go before he can change his mind, feeling his eyes on my back as I tread over the dingy floor. Lila’s stirring, definitely waking up now.

We ride the elevator and get off on the fourth floor. Outside June’s apartment, 4D, is a lone pair of green rain boots and a yellow umbrella. A crumpled piece of paper lies on the welcome mat. “We’re just gonna knock softly,” I say to Lila. I lift my hand to knock and hear a dog barking. I had no idea June had a dog. I knock harder than I mean to, and the dog goes nuts. Lila starts crying a little, and I bounce her against me, promising her I’m gonna take her out of the carrier in just a second when we get inside. I try to force a half smile onto my face because I’m sure June will look through the peephole and I don’t want to look as insane as I feel. But it’s hard with Lila crying, which gets louder the longer we stand here.

“Help you?” someone asks from an apartment down the hall. I turn to see an elderly woman with snow-white hair poking her head out the door.

“I’m fine!” I say. “Just visiting.”

“Hello?”

The dog is barking so loudly it takes me a second to realize this hello came from the doorway of June’s apartment. I turn to see a guy somewhere in his early twenties. He’s holding a tiny squirrel-like dog that won’t stop barking.

Lila wails. Milk rushes into my breasts so fast they feel as if they’ve caught fire. An overhead bulb is dying, making the guy’s features look shaky and scattered.

“Hi,” I say. I need to get Lila out of this carrier. “Is June home? Can I come in? I’m Rowan, June babysits for me? This is Lila—”

Lila’s sobbing with a breathless hitch to her cry I’ve never heard before, and then all of a sudden I’m crying, too.

“Are you okay?” the white-haired woman asks.

“I’m okay,” I answer. And then to June’s roommate, I say, “I’m so sorry,” but it’s hard to get the words out.

The boy’s face pales. “Just come in, Mrs. O’Sullivan,” he says, and that tiny detail—him knowing my last name—confirms to me that this is indeed June’s apartment and that I’m not walking into a murderer’s den with my newborn. The door shuts behind us, and everything inside June’s apartment looks wavy through my tears. I unzip my puffy coat and get Lila out of the carrier as fast as I can. “Shh, it’s okay, baby,” I tell her. “I’m right here.” Once I get her snowsuit off I pick her up and spin around to face the boy. June’s told me his name before, but I can’t remember it. Lila’s still crying, only settled a little from before. “Seth, that’s your name, isn’t it?” I ask tentatively. I should have introduced myself. I’m nearly sure I have his name wrong the longer we stand there.