But Sophie knew his voice. He loved making her kick her feet.
He could betray me and still love her.
A real smile.
I had to live with both truths.
***
The next evening, Elon sat on the edge of our bed while I folded Sophie’s laundry.
« I’ve been thinking. »
« About? »
« Maybe you shouldn’t rush back to work. »
I looked up.
I had to live with both truths.
My maternity leave was almost over.
We’d always planned for me to return.
« Why? »
« Childcare is expensive. We’re doing fine on my salary. »
« I make good money too. »
« I know. But why go back just to hand half of it to somebody else? »
My maternity leave was almost over.
« My job isn’t just a bill-paying exercise, Elon. »
« Sophie’s tiny, Maddie. »
Guilt landed exactly where he meant it to.
« I know. »
« You could stay home longer. »
« Sophie’s tiny, Maddie. »
Before the phone call, I might’ve heard love in that.
Now I heard something else:
Dependence.
He was planning a life without me while encouraging me to build one with fewer exits.
« I’ll think about it, » I said.
After he fell asleep, I opened my laptop.
I might’ve heard love in that.
My manager had emailed to confirm whether I was returning on schedule.
For weeks, I’d told myself I’d answer after Elon and I talked.
I typed:
« Yes, I’m still planning to return. »
I deleted it once.
Then I typed it again and pressed Send.
« Yes, I’m still planning to return. »
***
The next morning, my manager called.
« We’re glad you’re coming back, Madeline. We’ve missed you. »
After we confirmed my return date, I sat beside Sophie and let those words settle.
« Apparently I’m still me, » I told her.
Then I got to work.
« We’re glad you’re coming back, Madeline. »
I turned eighteen on a Tuesday. No cake. No card. Not even a half-hearted “happy birthday.” Just my father sitting at the kitchen table, his wife stirring sugar into her mug, and my stepbrother leaning back in his chair with that look people get when they already know how the story ends.
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