Which made a certain kind of sense.
I thought Peter would be out when I got home but he wasn’t. He was waiting for me on the porch.
“What’s the matter?” I asked because he looked like he’d gotten bad news. He had his laptop in his lap so I thought it must be something in the stock market. He turned it around so I could see the screen. It took me a few minutes to realize what I was looking at—the screen was open to the job site where I had looked up the archivist jobs for Laurel. It was my laptop he was holding, not his.
“What are you doing with my laptop?” I asked. It came out angrier-sounding than I’d meant it because I was still so on edge from seeing Laurel.
“I was having trouble getting online so I was checking to see if the problem was with my computer or the modem—I didn’t think you’d mind. I was surprised to find that you were looking at jobs, especially ones so far away.”
“I was looking for Laurel,” I said.
“Why would she be looking for work,” Peter scoffed. “She’s loaded.”
“I thought it would make her feel more independent. You know it can be dispiriting being home all day with a baby without any intellectual stimulation.”
“Is that how you feel?”
I started to deny it but then I realized that maybe it was how I felt. “Maybe,” I said. “A little. Would it be so bad if I went back to work? You’re always saying we’re tight for money—”
“We’re doing fine right now,” he snapped. He hated when I put it that way. We’ve got some cash-flow issues was his preferred terminology, but I was damned if I was going to say that. “And how would it look if a hedge-fund manager’s wife was working at the local school’s library?”
“Lots of rich women work.”
“At prestigious jobs, not as school librarians.”
I felt my cheeks burning as if he’d slapped me. When we met he’d seemed charmed that I was a school librarian. When had it become something to be embarrassed about? But he was right. It wasn’t the kind of job a rich woman would do.
“I’ve been thinking of getting an archival degree.” As I said it I realized it was true. I wanted to do more than shelve Nancy Drews for the rest of my life.
“So, you were looking at those jobs for yourself.”
The way he said it, like he’d caught me out in a lie, lit something in me. A spark of anger that I hadn’t even known was smoldering. “And what if I had been? What if I’m tired of being lectured about money all the time? I could work, make my own money, be independent—”
“You’d better think carefully about what you’re saying,” he said in a voice so low I could feel it rumble in my bowels.
“Or what?” I asked, that spark flaring into flame. “I’m Chloe’s mother, mothers always get custody.”
“Not mentally ill ones.”
I felt like I’d been slapped. “I-I’ve just had some postpartum depression.”
“You tried to kill yourself,” he said. “You’re on antidepressants. If you try to leave me, I’ll sue for full custody and I’ll make sure you never see Chloe again.”
I felt like I’d been punched in the stomach. I couldn’t say anything. Peter stared at me for another moment and then he got up and reached for Chloe’s car seat. I stepped back and nearly fell off the porch. He grabbed my arm to steady me.
“I’ll take Chloe in and give her a bath,” he said. “You try to get a hold of yourself.”
I hadn’t even realized I was crying. I ran upstairs and locked myself in the bedroom and cried and cried. And then I started writing all this down so I could figure out how things had gotten so out of hand. I hadn’t even been thinking of leaving Peter—
Or had I?
Those jobs in Vermont and New York do sound awfully appealing—
Not that I would ever take Chloe away from Peter. I know how much he loves her, which is why he got upset when he thought I was trying to take Chloe from him—
What if he takes her from me?
Writing all this down isn’t helping. I think I need to talk to someone. I’m going to try calling Laurel.
I’M REALLY SCARED now. I went to look for my phone in Chloe’s diaper bag but I couldn’t find it. I searched the bag again and found a wallet, only it wasn’t mine; it was Laurel’s. I just stared at it, trying to figure out how Laurel’s wallet had gotten into my diaper bag. Then it came to me. I’d taken Laurel’s bag. Hers had been sitting by the door. I must have picked up hers by mistake.
And then a really scary thing happened. I heard Laurel’s voice in my head saying You’ve taken everything that was mine. It was like she was right there in the room with me. It made me think that Peter might be right. I am mentally unfit to take care of Chloe. I’m the one who has lost myself. I’m the one who’s hearing strange voices in my head.
Then I heard Laurel’s voice say He’s going to take her from you and You have to get away before he does.
The scariest thing is that I think the voice might be right,
