A long quiet moment passed. “Let me check my schedule.”
He drove up to the house at noon on a Friday. Jackie was outside playing ball with Daniel. He had gotten bored with rolling it back and forth, and was now kicking it. The sight of Harlan’s car distracted him midkick, and he stumbled over the ball, landing hard. Before he could start crying, Jackie scooped him up. “You’re fine, big guy.” She smoothed back her hair, which she had styled for the first time in two weeks, and she was fairly confident her shirt was still clean.
Harlan met her on the walk and kissed her. “Wonderful to see you finally, Jackie.”
“You too.” He smelled delicious. “Let’s go in and you can meet the babies and say hi to Grace.”
“Sure, for a bit. I was hoping to take you out to lunch.”
He hadn’t mentioned this before. “Sounds good, but I’ll have to see how everyone’s faring.”
She opened the screen door and set Daniel down. He toddled over to his mother, who was swaddling one of the babies on the couch, probably Maria. Jackie had a vague memory of putting that yellow onesie on her earlier. The baby was kicking and red-faced. Daniel made a grab for the blanket, but Grace deflected him with a tickle to his belly.
“Hey, Harlan.” Grace lifted the cocooned Maria onto her shoulder. The baby closed her eyes, peaceful.
“Hello, Grace. Congratulations.” He stood rooted in the entryway. Jackie followed his gaze as he took in the blizzard of toys, diapers, dishes. She had tidied the room before she’d gone outside with Daniel, but in a house with small children, entropy is queen.
“Thanks. You guys going to grab lunch somewhere?”
“Only if you can spare me.” Jackie collected the dishes and carried them to the sink. “Can I make you something, Grace? A sandwich?”
“I’m fine. I just finished that breakfast burrito you made. Scrumptious, by the way.”
A mewling came from the den, where the newborns slept in bassinets during the day. Or not.
“I’ll change him and then sneak out,” Jackie said.
“Great. I’m putting this one down and grabbing a quick shower.”
“I’ve got her, Grace.” Jackie took Maria from her sister and rubbed her back.
Grace spoke to Daniel, who was stacking blocks into the bed of a toy truck on the living room floor. “You be good for Uncle Harlan for a little bit, okay?” She smiled at Harlan, who nodded, and went upstairs.
The cries from the den grew louder. Jackie said to Harlan, “Five minutes, ten tops.”
“I’ll be here.”
He smiled at her, but his impatience—or was it discomfort?—was obvious. Whenever they’d visited Grace and Hector, there had always been four adults and one child—Daniel. Jackie noticed Harlan didn’t go out of his way to interact with the boy, but many men had little interest in babies or small children. Given that Harlan didn’t spend time with children, it was hardly surprising that two newborns and a toddler might be excessive.
Jackie carried Maria into the den, placed her in the empty bassinet, and picked up Michael, who was howling. Jackie swayed and rubbed his back, but he would not be soothed. Afraid he might wake his sister, Jackie grabbed a couple of diapers and the wipes from the changing table and went out into the hallway. The baby quieted, probably from the change of scenery.
“Okay, okay, my little man,” Jackie whispered in his ear. She planned to change him in the downstairs bathroom, but as she passed the opening to the living room, she paused to check on Harlan and Daniel.
Harlan sat on the couch, in profile to Jackie, his phone in his hand, scrolling. He hadn’t noticed her. Daniel stood two feet from Harlan’s knees holding a blue plastic square in one hand and a yellow box with different-shaped openings on each side, only one of which would accommodate the blue square.
“Help,” Daniel said as he pushed the square against the wrong hole. “Go in. Go in.”
Harlan glanced at Daniel and returned his attention to his phone.
“Help.” Daniel hit the square against the yellow box. “Please!”
Harlan ignored him. The boy stepped closer and gently placed the box on Harlan’s knee.
Jackie held her breath.
Harlan fixed Daniel with a look that made Jackie’s blood run cold. The box fell from Harlan’s knee with a clatter. Jackie took a step back in the hallway, her heart beating in her ears. What had she just witnessed?
Michael squirmed in her arms. She talked to him, loudly enough for Harlan to hear. “It’s okay, Mikey. I’m going to change you now.” She passed behind the couch on her way to the bathroom and called to Daniel. “Everything okay, Daniel?”
The boy gave Harlan a sidelong glance. “Hungry.”
Harlan picked up the box from the floor and held it in front of Daniel. “Why don’t you give it another try?” He swiveled to face Jackie and winked. Just Uncle Harlan bonding with little Daniel.
Jackie strode to the bathroom. After she’d changed the baby, she left him swaddled on the rug at her feet and washed her hands. She stared at her reflection in the mirror, challenging herself to deny what she had seen. Her vantage point hadn’t been straight on, but the feeling his look conveyed was obvious to her: hostility. To a child.
If Harlan wanted to have lunch with her, she decided, he’d have to share her with Daniel.
Back in the living room, she proposed this to Harlan. “It’s easier for Grace, too.”
“I came all this way, Jackie.” He stood and came closer.
“I know.” Jackie cupped the baby’s head in her hand. It just fit.
He gestured to the upstairs. “Can’t Grace cope for an hour or two?”
The image of Daniel standing in front of Harlan flashed in her mind. “The question is, Harlan, why can’t you?”
“Really, Jackie. I wouldn’t have thought it of you.” And he left.
That day was the beginning of the end. When Jackie returned home and was no longer distracted by babies, she and Harlan returned to their usual routine, during which he gave her the usual attention. But something had changed for her. During an unguarded moment, she had seen how he felt about Daniel and, by extension, about children generally. What else was hiding beneath his impeccable exterior? She had excused his faults, allowed his perspective to dominate, but now a crack had appeared, and every insignificant and monumental issue that had bothered her pushed through to the surface. Jackie didn’t berate him, but whenever he acted, well, like his worst self—controlling and exacting and overly assured—she called him on it. He was not amused.
One night at his house, she confronted him about living together, whether he would ever seriously consider it. He tried to deflect, but she volleyed the question back at him, coated with frustration. “You won’t give me a straight answer, will you?”
“Jackie, calm down. Please.”
“I’m fucking sick of being calm!”
“Don’t be a child.”
“Answer the damn question!”
“Jackie—”
She stormed to the door, and grabbed her bag. Her eyes went to the watch on her wrist. She clawed open the clasp, pulled it off, and threw it into the dish on the hall table.
Harlan was behind her. “Jackie!”