“You actually think I would try to make him sick?” I spat. I just wanted to be clear.
“We don’t know.”
“I didn’t poison Atlas, you assholes.”
“Why is he sick then?”
“I don’t know. And neither do you. And neither do the doctors at the hospital. They did an initial tox screen that turned up nothing. They’re running more tests. No one there seemed to think he was poisoned.”
“Then why did we get a panicked call from Jason that Atlas is in the hospital and had a seizure?”
“Well, he tried me, but there’s no cell reception in the stacks. Katie’s in Portland. So I guess that left you, a poor choice at best, but you are his parents as you keep pointing out. I imagine he was desperate because he’d been trying you for hours, but no one was picking up. Where were you guys? You both have cell phones. Truly concerned parents keep their cell phones on when they leave their kid with a babysitter.”
“You were supposed to be with him. Not Jason. We thought we could trust you,” said Daniel.
“Well, Dan, that’s not actually true.” I tried to keep my voice steady. “You didn’t think anything. You left before this child was even born. You didn’t make arrangements for his care or for anything else. You have no idea who was supposed to be with Atlas this morning. You just assumed someone was doing it. You’ve never laid eyes on this child. You only decided to give a crap at all about twenty minutes ago. So in your case, this isn’t a matter of thinking or a matter of trust.
“And as for you, Jill, no, I wasn’t supposed to be with him. You were. I teach in the morning, every morning, since the end of May. Katie’s in Portland, not that she’s scheduled for weekday mornings either, so we had to call Jason to stay with Atlas this morning when you didn’t show up. I said sure I would take Atlas yesterday, even though it wasn’t my day, and Jason said sure he would cancel his appointment this morning, even though he needed to meet with his advisor. Even though I’m completely wasted because I’ve spent the last week in Vancouver with my sick grandmother. Even though I am totally exhausted and totally behind. Even though Jason and Lucas have a million things to do to get ready for their baby. But you wouldn’t know about any of that. Because you don’t know anything about taking care of a baby—other people do it for you. And because you don’t know anything about anyone else’s life because it doesn’t matter because it isn’t yours.”
“We have a babysitting schedule. That doesn’t mean Atlas is yours.”
“Right, I can see where you need a babysitter. I was teaching; Katie’s getting married; Jason is having his own child. Where were you?”
“That doesn’t matter.”
“Where were you?”
“She stayed overnight at my place. And I took the day off,” said Daniel. “We have a lot to work out, a lot to talk about, a lot of catching up to do.” His tone was serious—very serious actually, like their needing time to talk was the most important thing in the world—but I caught the twitch of a flicker of a suppressed smile that told me why they weren’t answering the phone for so long this afternoon.
“Why did you say you were his mother?” asked Jill.
“I didn’t want him to be alone,” I said. “And otherwise they wouldn’t let me back.”
“There’s a reason for that,” she said.
“Really? What is it?”
“We know you love him, Janey. We let you take care of him. We let you be with him. We’re grateful for your help, but he’s not yours.” Jill had toned it down a little, moved from furious-yelling to furious-condescending. She was just as angry but far, far more frustrating this way. In my mind, I picked up one of the chairs and threw it across the room at her, perhaps through the two-way window. I saw shatterproof glass rain down all over the irony cops who would surely conclude, having witnessed this scene, that I was free to take Atlas home and leave, just the two of us, for whatever faraway place I preferred.
“Jill,” I said, sighing, “I am not your babysitter. I am not your nanny. I am not your maid or your cook or your housekeeper. I am your family and I am your friend, but you aren’t being mine. I have taken care of Atlas like a son, and you know it. I have been there more than you have. I have rearranged my life to make this work just as much as you have. I have not complained that I put in more time and more care and more money than his parents. I stood by when Daniel left, and I stand here while he tries to decide whether or not he wants to come back. I have been the responsible one here. So I don’t care who this boy came out of—he’s mine.” At this point, I would have walked out of the room—it was a good exit line, and besides, I was done having this conversation—except I was still under arrest, so I couldn’t do anything but sit there.
Backwards and corner cop came in then.
“The hospital called. You should get over there.” You? Who?
“They determined there’s no foul play. You’re all free to go.”
“What is it?” I said.
“I’m not a doctor, ma’am. They can answer all your questions when you get there. We appreciate your cooperation, and we’re sorry for the inconvenience.”
Thirty-three
As I’d gotten a ride over to the police station, I had to ride back to the hospital with Jill and Daniel. Out in the parking lot, they piled into her car, and I stood around looking stupid and lost. “Oh just get in,” said Jill, annoyed but apparently willing to share a car ride with me. I wondered at how I’d been released so quickly with no lawyer, no paperwork, no phone call even, and Daniel guessed I wasn’t really under arrest but just in for questioning. He allowed as how if I became more unemployed and more depressed, I too could watch three episodes of Law & Order, sometimes four, a day, and then I would be clear on such distinctions. He was being cute. As if our, all our, lives didn’t hang by spider thread. As if our, all our, son didn’t suffer from no-one-knew-what in the ER without us. As if they hadn’t just had me arrested—or brought in for questioning—for poisoning and/or kidnapping their, my, our baby boy.
At the hospital, Jason was waiting, head in his hands, more or less where I’d left him except he’d called in reinforcements. Lucas was there. And Ethan. They all three stood up as soon as we walked in.
“They know something, but they won’t tell us,” Jason blurted.
“Are you okay?” Ethan asked. Me. Ethan asked me.
I avoided eye contact and gave him a half nod and said a firm and unequivocal no to the screaming that threatened to come and come and never stop.
Lucas went over to the nurses’ station calmly. Then he came back to us. Then we waited. Jason wanted to ask what happened, what happened after I was arrested by the police, after Jill produced a father and a birth certificate, after she screamed stolen baby in the ER waiting room. But even Jason couldn’t think of a way to bring this up in polite conversation. Finally, a doctor came over. He clearly had been briefed because he looked from one to the other to the other of us and said, “Why don’t we find a room where we can all talk.”