Mother May I(35)

I was rocking, a slow, soothing movement. Gabrielle left the room. I thought because she could not stay silent. I wanted to go with her, lie on my bed and press my face into a pillow that smelled like my husband. I wanted to scream and cry and kick.

Marshall stayed. He’d gone full cop on me, his eyes as flat as if the notes he was taking were a grocery list. Cops could do it, too, I realized, like lawyers and actors. They could tuck themselves away inside another person. Right now he was someone rock steady, and his calm gaze felt like the only thing that kept me chained to the earth. Forget gravity. If he looked away, I’d shoot up into space. I’d feel my whole body crumpling in that vacuum, imploding into itself.

Because she was not hiding anything or lying or manipulating me now. She was only saying true and awful things. Saying them with my baby in her arms.

“I didn’t scare him, or hurt him. He wasn’t scared for even a minute. I had a cat like that once. Mitzi. Some old mama cat had her in my carport and never came back. I brought her in. Bottle-fed her. She spent her whole life in my house after that, never cold or hungry or sad, not even once’t. This little boy, he was like that cat. When he woke up in my car, I told him I was the new sitter, and he was just as nice as pie. I’d taken him from his mama, at the park. She was in a fuss with someone on her cell phone while he napped, and I moseyed away with the whole stroller. But he was used to waking up with sitters. His mama liked to go about. We followed her awhile, to get her pattern, you know.” I stayed my flat, calm character, but inside I felt a flash of angry joy that Marshall was recording. She’d admitted that her daughter had assisted with a kidnapping, and the daughter was the only thing she cared about. It felt like leverage. “She was always running out to lunch, or getting her hair or nails fussed over, or doing hot yoga, whatever that is. No nanny, so her boy was used to different folks. He couldn’t fathom a bad thing might be happening. When we got back here, I gave him a lot of Benadryl in juice, and he went right to sleep. He never even woke up when I put him in the water. I made sure it was warm, but not too hot. Like you do a bottle.”

She was quiet for a little. It was a mercy. I felt as if she wanted me to say something. It was a waiting pause to see how I would take this. I made my voice stay low and calm and gentle.

“You didn’t call his mother? Didn’t put a gift bag with a phone on her door?”

“Hmm.” She made that noise again. I could also hear Robert stretching, grunting a little. “Naw. I didn’t need her help.”

I couldn’t swallow. But I had to speak. “Don’t do it again. It won’t get better or easier. I think the movies and the books all lie.”

Marshall gave me a short, proud nod. I was saying good, right things. The best things, his eyes were telling me.

She said, “You know the strangest part? It wasn’t until after that I realized those letters were his name. Gee-Off. It’s a way to spell Jeff. I saw it spelled that way in a Agatha Christie book. I like those British mysteries where everyone’s so calm. Cozies, they call them. But I never knew how to say it until I saw it spelled out on Gee-Off’s backpack.”

“Please,” I said. I couldn’t help myself. “Please don’t do that to Robert.”

Marshall’s eyes flashed a warning. I nodded. Tried to calm myself.

“Well,” she said, a noncommittal sound. “I don’t want to. But I have to finish this. I don’t have a lot of time, you understand. I’d told myself that the minute Spence was gone, I’d finish. But I never did give your boy the Benadryl. I think I already knew it would be hard to do again.”

My eyes closed. “You don’t have to. Let’s think of something else, together.”

“I’m past that. I already did my thinking. On and off while I was dozing in this chair all night. I wanted to keep your boy in my lap in case you had called the police. But I wouldn’t have slept any better in a bed. I’m sick. My body hurts. Anyhow, I found us a third way.”

My heart leaped in my chest, and Marshall leaned closer, intense. “Then tell me.” I sounded eager now. Whatever she wanted from me, it felt already done.

But she was still talking, almost musing. “Before I started down this road, I tried to imagine the worst thing I could do to a person. That was easy. My husband died young, and that was hard, but it didn’t break me. I’m dying now myself, and it’s not so bad. When I learned I had a few months left, I went right to my daughter and told her, and she put her arms around me, and I knew she’d go on living, after. It’s the natural order. She is my real comfort. I understood then that losing a child would be the worst thing. But Mr. Shaw didn’t have any children. I had to get real direct with his bill. The most precious thing he had was his own sorry life. In some ways it felt like letting him off easy. I thought to myself, well, it’s the best you can do. Now, though, between Mr. Shaw and Gee-Off. I think I liked what happened to Mr. Shaw better. It’s so . . .” She paused, word hunting. “Relaxing. He’s in hell before me, and that feels right. And I know I made the world better by taking him off it. I don’t know if that baby, Gee-Off, would have made the world better or worse. No one will know now. That doesn’t seem fair, and all I want is to make things come around fair before I die. I look at your boy here, and he’s a sweet baby. I think maybe I ought to go another route.”