Chapter 3 - Aunt Rachel
Rachel Monroe arrived at Vanessa’s apartment the next morning furious.
“You threw her out?”
Robert stood on the front porch with his coffee.
“I asked her to stay with you.”
“She cried all night.”
“I’m sorry.”
“No, you’re not.”
“No.”
Rachel folded her arms.
She was forty, five years older than Vanessa, divorced, and had appointed herself protector of her younger sister long before Robert met either of them.
“You made a pregnant woman feel homeless.”
Robert glanced toward Ethan’s bedroom window.
“She made a seven-year-old feel homeless first.”
Rachel’s anger faltered.
“Vanessa told me what happened.”
“Did she tell you she packed his suitcase?”
“Yes.”
“Did she tell you she planned to leave him with my mother for at least a month?”
Rachel’s face changed.
“She said two weeks.”
Robert exhaled.
Another version.
“Come inside.”
“I’m not here to socialize.”
“Neither am I.”
Ethan was at school.
Robert had taken the morning off.
He led Rachel into the kitchen and placed the taped ultrasound picture on the table.
“Did you tear this?”
She stared at him.
“What?”
“You were here the afternoon Vanessa found it.”
Rachel’s eyes widened.
“You think I tore my niece’s ultrasound photo?”
“I’m asking.”
“No.”
“Did you see Ethan touch it?”
“No.”
“Did you see Vanessa?”
“No.”
“Who else was here?”
Rachel thought.
“Just us.”
“Did anyone come to the door?”
“The delivery guy.”
“What delivery?”
“Crib hardware. Or shelves. Something.”
Robert nodded.
“Anything else?”
Rachel studied him.
“Why are you asking like a detective?”
“Because my son was blamed for something nobody saw him do.”
“He’s seven.”
“Exactly.”
Rachel looked toward the hallway.
“What did Ethan say?”
“That he didn’t do it.”
“And you believe him because he’s your son.”
“I believe him because nobody has shown me a reason not to.”
Rachel sighed.
“He has been acting weird about the baby.”
“How?”
“He asked me if babies can make parents stop loving older kids.”
Robert went still.
“When?”
“A month ago.”
“You didn’t tell me.”
“I thought it was normal jealousy.”
“Did you tell Vanessa?”
“Yes.”
That mattered.
“What did she say?”
“She got upset.”
“How upset?”
“She cried.”
Robert was surprised.
Rachel sat at the table.
“You think Vanessa is some cartoon wicked stepmother now. She isn’t.”
“I know.”
“She’s terrified.”
“So is Ethan.”
Rachel looked at the ultrasound photo.
“Maybe that’s the problem.”
“What?”
“They’re both scared of losing you.”
Robert stared.
Rachel continued.
“Vanessa thinks the baby will come and she’ll still be doing everything alone because you’ll be at work. Ethan thinks the baby will come and he’ll lose his room, his father, whatever is left of his old family.”
“And what do you think?”
“I think you have spent six months telling both of them everything will be fine.”
Robert did not answer.
“You know what ‘everything will be fine’ means when you never actually make a plan?”
“What?”
“Nothing.”
He disliked how accurate that was.
Rachel pushed the ultrasound photograph toward him.
“But no, I didn’t tear this.”
Robert nodded.
“Did you say anything to Ethan about staying with Linda?”
“No.”
“Did Vanessa?”
Rachel hesitated.
That hesitation told him more than the answer.
“What?”
“She asked me whether I thought Linda would take him for a while.”
“When?”
“About six weeks ago.”
“Before Ethan drew himself outside.”
“Yes.”
Robert closed his eyes.
“So this wasn’t panic yesterday.”
“She was exploring options.”
“Without me.”
“She said you shut down every time she brought up space.”
“I told her Ethan was not losing his bedroom.”
“And what was your solution?”
“We have a guest room.”
Rachel gave him a look.
“The room with your dead wife’s boxes?”
Robert stiffened.
The guest room had belonged to Melissa before she died.
Not as a bedroom.
As an art room.
After her death from an aneurysm four years earlier, Robert moved much of her artwork, clothing and storage there.
He rarely entered.
Vanessa had suggested converting it into the nursery.
He refused.
Not angrily.
Just absolutely.
Rachel lowered her voice.
“You wouldn’t touch Melissa’s room.”
“It isn’t Melissa’s room.”
“You call it that.”
“I do not.”
“You did at Christmas.”
Robert looked away.
Suddenly the architecture of the conflict changed.
Ethan’s room was not the only available room.
There was another.
One Robert had emotionally locked.
Vanessa had not asked Ethan to sacrifice because there was literally nowhere else for the baby.
She had asked him to sacrifice because Robert refused to.
That did not excuse what she did.
But it implicated him.
Rachel stood.
“I’m not defending yesterday.”
“Good.”
“I told her packing his suitcase was insane.”
Robert looked at her.
“She told you before?”
Rachel froze.
He saw it.
“When?”
“Yesterday morning.”
“You knew?”
“She called me.”
“And you didn’t call me.”
“She said she would talk to you first.”
“She lied.”
“Yes.”
Robert’s voice became colder.
“You knew a seven-year-old was being packed out of his home and you trusted the adult who was doing it to handle it?”
Rachel’s face reddened.
“I made a mistake.”
“Yes.”
Before she could answer, Robert’s phone rang.
Ethan’s school.
His teacher, Ms. Patterson.
“Mr. Hayes?”
“Yes?”
“I think you should come in.”
His stomach tightened.
“Is Ethan okay?”
“He’s physically fine.”
“What happened?”
A pause.
“He got into an argument with another student.”
Robert stood.
“About what?”
Ms. Patterson lowered her voice.
“The other child told him stepmothers always get rid of the old kids once they have their own babies.”
Robert’s hand tightened around the phone.
“Where did a seven-year-old hear that?”
“We’re trying to determine that.”
May you like
Then she added:
“Ethan says the boy heard it from an adult who comes to your house.”
