the clock to a time when her fondest wish had been four straight hours of uninterrupted sleep. Back to one perfectly ordinary mid-March, middle-of-the-night newborn feeding. Back to a time when she hadn’t appreciated her good fortune.
She’d thought she’d be in that room forever. Late-winter winds battered the nursery’s windows and banged shutters against the siding. A CD played “Little Boy Blue,” a loop of warm sound. The song’s steady backbeat mimicked a human pulse, but the ersatz heart didn’t fool her son. Luke had kicked off his blanket, his arms and legs flailed for her, twitches of movement in the darkened room. His thin cries pierced her chest. Abby lifted him from his cradle. Before she could fully settle into the rocking chair, before she wedged the nursing pillow beneath her forearm, Luke clamped on to her nipple, hard enough to snatch the air in her throat. He’d always known how to get what he wanted.
A grandchild. A piece of her son alive in the world. She’d lost her child once and survived. Losing again would kill her.
C HAPTER 6
T essa couldn’t stop looking at the photo centered above Luke’s bed.
Dina had taken the shot of her and Luke in December, when they’d gone sledding, right before finals week. A last blowing off of steam before they locked themselves in books and laptops to memorize facts they’d forget five minutes after the doors of the lecture halls snicked shut behind them. She and Luke sat on an oversized cafeteria tray at the peak of the hill by their dorm. Top of the morning, top of her life.
After breakfast, they’d hiked the paved trail up Orchard Hill. Tessa was falling behind, savoring the strange feeling between her legs. The secret ache told her hours ago, everything had changed. Luke, who could’ve had any girl, had chosen her. He thought she was beautiful. He thought she was special.
Boys were so easy to fool.
The sun’s rays bounced off the snow-covered hillside, blinding her. Luke jogged back down the hill, and she climbed onto his back. With a battle cry, he raced up the hill, Tessa grasping the fabric of his ski jacket for dear life, her body bouncing mercilessly against Luke’s. The solid feel of him pounded against her chest. Clear blue sky with a whisper of white cloud skittering across it. Snow-dusted tree branches. Groups of kids along the path. As she and Luke bounded past, their voices touched her, like high-fives of celebration. Joy bubbled from her center. Luke deposited her at the top of the hill, with her stomach muscles tight from laughter, her cheeks chapped from the cold.
She was smart to have made him wait a few months to have sex. A calculated risk, but worth it. Because he’d held her hands and dusted her face with kisses. He’d told her to open her eyes. He’d said it might hurt. But that night, it hadn’t hurt at all. Not in any way that mattered.
Tessa hummed the first line from “Wish You Were Here,” slow and ethereal. Luke’s cat, Sadie, poked her head out from under the bed. The cat had slept there all night. She’d refused to come out, even when Abby had waved a rainbow wand of curly ribbons by her face. Not even when Abby had tumbled aluminum foil balls the cat supposedly could not resist past the bed. Fine, Abby had said, when Tessa could tell the sleeping arrangement—for Tessa and the cat—was anything but.
Tessa clucked her tongue. When Sadie wound around her bare legs, she scooped the cat into her arms and planted a kiss in the soft fur behind her ear. In the photo, Tessa faced forward, legs crossed. Luke’s legs wrapped around her waist. He gazed out to some unknown point, or some unknown person. A girl, most likely. That tall blonde from Central who was always hanging around, waiting for the latest breakup? How long could a relationship last when there was always some girl, or girls, waiting in line for you to fail?
“Who do you think Luke’s looking at?” Tessa asked. “Hmm?” Inside Tessa, the
She’d thought she’d be in that room forever. Late-winter winds battered the nursery’s windows and banged shutters against the siding. A CD played “Little Boy Blue,” a loop of warm sound. The song’s steady backbeat mimicked a human pulse, but the ersatz heart didn’t fool her son. Luke had kicked off his blanket, his arms and legs flailed for her, twitches of movement in the darkened room. His thin cries pierced her chest. Abby lifted him from his cradle. Before she could fully settle into the rocking chair, before she wedged the nursing pillow beneath her forearm, Luke clamped on to her nipple, hard enough to snatch the air in her throat. He’d always known how to get what he wanted.
A grandchild. A piece of her son alive in the world. She’d lost her child once and survived. Losing again would kill her.
C HAPTER 6
T essa couldn’t stop looking at the photo centered above Luke’s bed.
Dina had taken the shot of her and Luke in December, when they’d gone sledding, right before finals week. A last blowing off of steam before they locked themselves in books and laptops to memorize facts they’d forget five minutes after the doors of the lecture halls snicked shut behind them. She and Luke sat on an oversized cafeteria tray at the peak of the hill by their dorm. Top of the morning, top of her life.
After breakfast, they’d hiked the paved trail up Orchard Hill. Tessa was falling behind, savoring the strange feeling between her legs. The secret ache told her hours ago, everything had changed. Luke, who could’ve had any girl, had chosen her. He thought she was beautiful. He thought she was special.
Boys were so easy to fool.
The sun’s rays bounced off the snow-covered hillside, blinding her. Luke jogged back down the hill, and she climbed onto his back. With a battle cry, he raced up the hill, Tessa grasping the fabric of his ski jacket for dear life, her body bouncing mercilessly against Luke’s. The solid feel of him pounded against her chest. Clear blue sky with a whisper of white cloud skittering across it. Snow-dusted tree branches. Groups of kids along the path. As she and Luke bounded past, their voices touched her, like high-fives of celebration. Joy bubbled from her center. Luke deposited her at the top of the hill, with her stomach muscles tight from laughter, her cheeks chapped from the cold.
She was smart to have made him wait a few months to have sex. A calculated risk, but worth it. Because he’d held her hands and dusted her face with kisses. He’d told her to open her eyes. He’d said it might hurt. But that night, it hadn’t hurt at all. Not in any way that mattered.
Tessa hummed the first line from “Wish You Were Here,” slow and ethereal. Luke’s cat, Sadie, poked her head out from under the bed. The cat had slept there all night. She’d refused to come out, even when Abby had waved a rainbow wand of curly ribbons by her face. Not even when Abby had tumbled aluminum foil balls the cat supposedly could not resist past the bed. Fine, Abby had said, when Tessa could tell the sleeping arrangement—for Tessa and the cat—was anything but.
Tessa clucked her tongue. When Sadie wound around her bare legs, she scooped the cat into her arms and planted a kiss in the soft fur behind her ear. In the photo, Tessa faced forward, legs crossed. Luke’s legs wrapped around her waist. He gazed out to some unknown point, or some unknown person. A girl, most likely. That tall blonde from Central who was always hanging around, waiting for the latest breakup? How long could a relationship last when there was always some girl, or girls, waiting in line for you to fail?
“Who do you think Luke’s looking at?” Tessa asked. “Hmm?” Inside Tessa, the
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