The Perfect Mother(86)
He keeps his eyes on the floor but Francie thinks she detects a change in his expression. When he finally looks up, he’s smiling. “Something to help her?”
Chapter Twenty-One
Day Thirteen
To: May Mothers
From: Your friends at The Village
Date: July 17
Subject: Today’s advice
Your baby: Day 64
When you have a baby, everyone in the world seems to have an opinion (Ha! Who are we to talk?). How to deal? First, take what you hear with a grain (or six) of salt. Nothing’s going to undermine your confidence more than listening to every shred of advice. Also, realize it’s well-intentioned. While we love our babies more than anything in the world, a lot of other people (We’re looking at you, Grandma!) want to play a role in making sure the little one is safe.
Colette traces the shards of sunlight on Charlie’s cheek. His hand is on her waist.
“Do you know how rarely, in fifteen years together, you’ve cried in front of me?”
She nods and closes her eyes, seeing the image of Winnie being led into the police station yesterday. Another wave of grief hits her.
“I wish we’d talked about this sooner,” Charlie says, drawing her closer. Last night, after watching the news about Winnie, Colette broke down, admitting everything. About making copies of the police file and taking the flash drive. About how she’s been struggling to stay afloat, and her concern about Poppy, how fiercely she’s been watching her, searching for any sign of improvement. How hard it’s been to try to balance everything: being a good partner, a good mother, a competent writer.
“What do you want to do?” Charlie asks her now.
“I don’t know.” Poppy whimpers over the monitor, and Colette rises to get her, but Charlie places a hand on her back.
“Let’s give her a second to work it out on her own.”
Colette relaxes back into him.
“Actually, that’s a lie. I do know what I want to do. I want to make sure she’s okay. I want to just be a mom for a while. And at some point I’ll return to writing. My own writing.” She wipes her tears on the pillowcase. “Even though my brain no longer works and I have nothing to write about.”
Charlie smiles. “Do what every new mother does. Write about having a baby.”
“I need to get her,” Colette says, as Poppy cries out again.
“I’ll do it.” He sits up, searching the floor around the bed for his boxer shorts. “It’s Saturday. Stay in bed. Get some more sleep.”
Colette clicks off the monitor and sinks back under the sheet, breathing in Charlie’s scent on her pillow. Outside the window, the European starlings gather on the fire escape, eating from the bird feeder she set out a few days ago. She closes her eyes, wishing she could remain here all day, shutting out her grief and the images of Winnie being led into jail, expecting that at any moment she’ll hear the news that they’ve found Midas’s body.
Her phone rings on the table beside her. She wants to ignore it, but she knows she can’t.
She sits up and reaches for it. “Hi.”
“Are you on your way?”
Colette pauses. “No.”
“It’s almost nine. You’re still coming, right?”
Colette rubs her eyes. “Nell, I’m not sure. I—”
“Colette, no,” Nell says. “Don’t do that. You said you’d be there. We both did.” Nell pauses. “I’m serious, Colette. We have to do this. We promised her we would.”
Charlie is making coffee, Poppy cooing cheerfully in the bouncy chair at his feet, when Colette walks into the kitchen, wearing her yellow sundress. “I need to go out for a little while,” she says.
“You didn’t tell me that. Where to?”
“I have to do one quick thing.” She kisses him. “I’ll be back soon. And guess what we’re doing tonight?”
He wraps his arms around her waist and presses her hips to his. “I have one idea.”
She laughs. “That. And I made us a reservation for dinner.”
“The three of us?”
“No. I got a sitter.”
“You’re kidding. Who?”
“Sonya, from downstairs. Do you know she was a nanny to twins for two years?”
He cocks his head. “Of course I know that. And thank you. That’ll be nice.” He takes his time kissing her. “Take an umbrella, it’s starting to rain. And hurry home.”
Nell is waiting in front of The Spot, a dripping newspaper held over her head against the rain, an iced coffee in her hand.
“Sorry, I’m late,” Colette says.
“Come on.” Nell sips the last of the coffee and tosses it into a nearby garbage can. “Francie’s called me three times already.”
Colette picks up her pace to keep in step with Nell, knowing this is the right thing to do. Francie showed up at Colette’s late last night, her eyes swollen, her words coming out in a flurry: Token had come to her apartment, saying he and Winnie dated in high school. Francie told him what Scarlett had said at the last May Mothers meeting, about Winnie being depressed, and her growing certainty that Scarlett was the woman she’d seen from Winnie’s building.