Chapter 6 - Two Hours on Saturday
I waited until Wednesday to ask Graham.
He came for his regular visit carrying two coffees and a bag of bagels, which had become his version of trying not to arrive empty-handed.
Owen was six weeks old and had developed the ability to make every clean shirt I owned look unreasonable.
I waited until Graham was changing him before I said, "What did Elias tell you after the hospital?"
Graham's hand stopped on the diaper tab.
"About what?"
"Your father."
He looked up slowly.
"Did Vanessa come here?"
That was answer enough.
"She did."
"Why?"
"To ask why I wasn't signing fast enough. Then she apologized for laughing while I was hemorrhaging. It was a full afternoon."
Graham closed the diaper.
"She shouldn't have come."
"That's between you and her."
"No, it's between all of us now, apparently."
"Welcome to the problem you created."
His jaw tightened.
Owen kicked both legs.
Graham looked down and softened automatically.
That bothered me less than it used to.
"Grandfather told me my father signed away visitation when my parents divorced," Graham said.
I leaned against the dresser.
"You didn't know?"
"I knew he left. I didn't know there had been an agreement."
"What's the difference?"
"I spent years believing my mother kept him away."
The room felt suddenly smaller.
"Did she tell you that?"
"Not exactly."
"Then who did?"
"No one. I made it fit."
He lifted Owen and rested him against his shoulder.
"My father would send gifts. He'd call on birthdays. Sometimes he'd promise to visit and cancel. My mother stopped talking about him. I assumed she hated him so much she made it difficult."
"And Elias?"
"He let me believe whatever kept me functional."
"That's not a flattering description of your family."
"It isn't supposed to be."
Graham walked toward the window.
"After I left the hospital, Grandfather told me Richard asked for exactly what I asked for. No scheduled visitation. Money instead of time. Distance instead of conflict."
I stared at the side of his face.
"And that scared you."
"Yes."
"Because you didn't want to become him?"
"Because I realized I already knew what it felt like to be Owen."
That was not the answer I expected.
Graham continued looking out the window.
"I hated my father for not showing up. I built a whole personality around not needing him. Then I held my own son for ten minutes and realized I'd written the same first chapter for him."
I folded my arms.
"You don't get points for recognizing the pattern after you repeated it."
"I know."
"And fear isn't the same as love."
"I know that too."
"Then what are you asking me for?"
He turned.
"Time to find out what comes after fear."
I looked at Owen.
His tiny fist had wrapped around one of Graham's shirt buttons.
I hated how much that image affected me.
"Maya says we need a temporary parenting agreement," I said.
Graham nodded.
"Daniel says the same."
"Two visits a week. Two hours. Here for now. No overnights. No taking him anywhere without telling me."
"Okay."
"And if you're late, you text."
"Okay."
"If he's sick, visits change."
"Obviously."
"Don't say obviously."
"Why?"
"Because nothing about the last six weeks suggests anything is obvious to either of us."
He almost smiled.
"Fine."
The agreement lasted twelve days before I broke my own rule.
It happened on a Tuesday night.
Owen had been screaming for almost three hours. He had no fever. The pediatrician's nurse said it sounded like colic and gave me a list of things I had already tried.
My father was in Detroit again.
The night nurse I hired twice a week had the flu.
At 10:46 p.m., I was sitting on the kitchen floor with Owen against my chest, crying quietly while he cried loudly.
My phone buzzed.
Graham.
How is he?
He had started asking that every evening.
I stared at the screen.
Then typed:
Terrible.
Three dots appeared.
What's wrong?
I sent:
Nothing, apparently. Which is somehow worse.
He called.
I answered because I was too tired to invent dignity.
"How long has he been crying?" he asked.
"Since dinner."
"Have you called the doctor?"
"Yes."
"Do you want me to come?"
I almost said no.
The word was already in my mouth.
Then I looked down at Owen, red-faced and exhausted.
"Yes."
Graham arrived twenty-three minutes later in jeans and a sweater, hair still damp from a shower.
He did not comment on the state of the apartment.
He did not comment on the fact that I was sitting on the floor.
He took Owen, walked slow circles through the living room, and said, "Go lie down."
"I can't sleep while he's crying."
"Then close your eyes somewhere else."
"What if-"
"Claire."
I looked at him.
"I have him."
The sentence made something in my chest tighten.
I went to my bedroom and lay down fully dressed.
I woke two hours later in darkness.
The apartment was silent.
Panic hit before thought.
I ran into the living room.
Graham was asleep on the couch.
Owen was asleep on his chest.
One of Graham's hands rested protectively over the baby's back.
I stood there breathing too fast.
Graham opened his eyes.
"He's fine," he whispered.
"You fell asleep holding him."
"I know. I shouldn't have."
"That's not safe."
"I know."
I moved forward and took Owen more sharply than necessary.
Graham sat up.
"I'm sorry."
"You can't do that."
"I said I'm sorry."
"You could have dropped him."
"Claire."
"You could have rolled-"
"I know."
His voice was firm now.
I stopped.
He rubbed both hands over his face.
"I made a mistake."
My heart was pounding.
"This is why I'm scared to let go."
The words came out before I could stop them.
Graham looked at me.
"I know."
"No, you don't. Everyone keeps telling me to trust people with him. But if something happens, I'm the one who has to live with it."
"And if you never let anyone make a mistake, you're going to be awake for the next eighteen years."
"That's easy for you to say."
"No, it isn't."
His face changed.
"I'm the mistake you're most afraid of."
Neither of us said anything after that.
At the door, Graham pulled on his coat.
"Daniel is sending Maya a proposed visitation schedule tomorrow."
"More time?"
"Yes."
My stomach tightened.
"How much?"
He looked back at Owen, then at me.
May you like
"Enough that you won't be the only person who knows how to calm him at three in the morning."
