Insurance.
Hospital information.
Questions for doctors.
Questions for lawyers.
Questions she had already asked doctors but apparently wanted to ask again in different wording.
Ryan teased her constantly.
At first.
He came to nearly every appointment.
He bought me ridiculous maternity pillows.
He installed a handrail beside my bathtub even though I had never asked for one.
He argued with Marissa over nursery colors.
He insisted their daughter needed a rocking chair “built to last until college,” which made absolutely no sense.
He was excited.
Then around month five, Ryan started disappearing.
Not completely.
Just enough for me to notice.
He missed an ultrasound because of an “emergency operations meeting.”
He left another appointment halfway through after receiving a text.
At dinner, his phone never stayed face down for more than five minutes.
Marissa complained that his company was working him to death.
Ryan agreed.
He was regional operations manager for a commercial food distribution company.
Long hours weren’t unusual.
So we believed him.
One afternoon, I asked him directly.
“You okay?”
“Fine.”
“You look exhausted.”
“Quarter-end mess.”
“You’re checking your phone every twelve seconds.”
He smiled.
“I’m popular.”
“You’re irritating.”
“That too.”
I let it go.
I wish I hadn’t.
At my final prenatal scan, the technician lingered around the lower part of the baby’s spine.
She didn’t panic.
She didn’t say something terrible had happened.
But she became quieter.
The doctor later explained that the baby’s position prevented them from getting one image as clearly as they wanted.
They would perform additional evaluation after delivery.
Marissa immediately asked fourteen questions.
I asked six.
Ryan asked none.
He stood beside the window rubbing his jaw.
I assumed he was worried about the baby.
I had no idea he was thinking about money.
Ryan returned to the hospital at 7:43 that evening.
I know because I stared at the clock when he walked into my recovery room.
Five hours.
He had been gone five hours.
Marissa had finally fallen asleep in a recliner beside Amelia.
I was awake.
Ryan appeared in my doorway looking like he had aged a decade since morning.
“Em.”
I stared at him.
“Leave.”
His shoulders dropped.
“Please.”
“You walked out.”
“I know.”
“Don’t.”
“What?”
“Don’t say ‘I know’ to me tonight.”
He entered anyway.
I lowered my voice so I wouldn’t wake Marissa.
“Your daughter was being evaluated by specialists.”
“I panicked.”
“Your wife called you eleven times.”
“I know.”
I pointed at him.
“You said it again.”
He shut his mouth.
I wanted to throw something.
Unfortunately, the heaviest object within reach was a plastic water pitcher.
“What happened to you?”
Ryan rubbed both hands over his face.
“I screwed up.”
“That became obvious when you handed me your newborn like she was a damaged Amazon package.”
He flinched.
Good.
“Tell Marissa.”
“I will.”
“When?”
He didn’t answer.
I stared at him.
“Ryan.”
“There’s more.”
Of course there was.
There is always more when somebody starts a confession that way.
“What did you do?”
He sat down.
For several seconds he just stared at the floor.
Then he said, “I got laid off.”
I almost laughed because it seemed too simple.
“Okay.”
