CHAPTER 5 — THE GIRL IN THE HALLWAY

We were discharged the following afternoon.

Reid’s parents had driven in overnight.

June was staying with them.

I should have felt relieved.

Instead, whenever I looked at Reid, I saw that hospital door open.

The child in his arms.

I heard Daddy.

The image had lodged itself in me.

At home, Reid slept on the couch without being asked.

He got up every two hours when Theo woke.

Changed diapers.

Sterilized bottles.

Brought me water.

Never asked if I had forgiven him.

Three days later, June came over.

Not because I invited her.

Reid’s mother needed to bring us groceries, and June was with her.

I heard June before seeing her.

“Is the baby sleeping?”

“Yes,” Reid’s mother whispered.

“Can babies hear when they’re asleep?”

“Sometimes.”

Then June appeared around the corner.

She froze when she saw me.

So did I.

She was smaller than I remembered.

At the hospital, she had been fear wrapped around Reid’s neck.

Here, she was simply a little girl in leggings and a rabbit sweater.

She held something behind her back.

“Hi,” I said.

June looked at Reid.

He stood near the kitchen.

“Remember Maren?” he asked.

June nodded.

“The baby’s mommy.”

“Yes.”

She looked at me.

“Can I see him?”

I hesitated.

Then stepped aside.

Theo slept in the bassinet.

June approached slowly.

She stared at him.

“He’s really tiny.”

“He is.”

“I was tiny too.”

“Probably.”

June reached behind her back and pulled out a stuffed rabbit.

One ear was bent.

“This is Pickles.”

I smiled despite myself.

“Pickles?”

“He can have it.”

She placed the rabbit beside the bassinet.

Reid immediately moved it a safe distance from Theo’s face.

June frowned.

“He can’t sleep with toys yet,” he explained.

“Why?”

“He’s too little.”

June considered that.

Then sat on the floor.

“Does he know his name?”

“Not yet.”

“When does he know?”

“I’m not sure.”

June looked at Reid.

“Did Daddy know my name?”

The room changed.

Reid crouched.

“Your daddy knew your name.”

“Mommy said he picked it.”

“He did.”

June studied Reid’s face.

Then asked softly,

“Are you Daddy’s brother?”

“Yes.”

“So you’re Uncle Reid.”

“Yes.”

His voice was patient.

No encouragement.

No confusion.

He had clearly repeated this conversation many times over the past few days.

June looked down.

“Do uncles leave?”

Nobody moved.

Reid’s mother closed her eyes.

I saw something in Reid’s face I had never seen.

Fear.

He knelt lower.

“Sometimes adults have to go places.”

June’s mouth turned down.

“But do you come back?”

Reid nodded.

“If I tell you I’m coming back, I come back.”

June studied him for several seconds.

Then accepted the answer as children sometimes do.

“Okay.”

She picked up a crayon from her little bag.

Later, while Reid’s mother held Theo, I found June drawing at our coffee table.

There were four people in the picture.

A woman.

A little girl.

A man floating near the top.

And another man beside the girl.

The two men had nearly identical faces.

“Who’s that?” I asked.

June pointed upward.

“Daddy.”

Then she pointed at the other.

“Uncle Reid.”

That was when I understood.

She knew.

Or was starting to.

She wasn’t calling Reid Daddy because of some secret relationship.

She was a four-year-old whose dead father’s face had suddenly appeared through a hospital door.

Reid sat beside me after June left.

For a while, neither of us spoke.

Then I asked,

“What happened between you and Miles before he died?”

Reid went still.

I knew they had argued.

But little more.

“He called me the night before.”

“About what?”

“Money.”

That surprised me.

“He wanted to borrow some. Again.”

“You said no?”

“I told him he needed to grow up.”

Reid stared at his hands.

“He said I always acted like I was better than him.”

“Did you?”

“Probably.”

He swallowed.

“I told him if he wanted to ruin his life, he could do it without calling me every time something went wrong.”

My chest tightened.

“The next morning, he died.”

I understood before Reid said it.

“You never talked again.”

“No.”

His eyes filled.

“The last thing I ever did to my brother was walk away.”

He looked toward the door June had gone through.

“So when she was sitting in that hospital asking me not to leave…”

He couldn’t finish.

For the first time, I reached for his hand.

I hadn’t forgiven him.

Not yet.

But I held it.