Chapter 6
The phone sat on the glass table where I'd left it. Not in Gloria's hands for the first time that afternoon. Just there, black screen up, gold frame of the table catching the light underneath it.
I hadn't touched it again after I'd set it down. Neither had Gloria. That was the standoff.
I heard Marco's shoes in the hall before I saw him. He'd stepped out to take a call, or to get air, I wasn't sure. The arc lamp hummed faintly behind the sofa. Leo's head was heavy against my chest. His hair was damp where he'd been crying.
Marco came back in and Vanessa came in right behind him. She didn't sit. She stood by the arm of the sofa with her arms crossed again, like she had before. Gloria was still on the sofa, her hands now empty and folded tight in her lap, staring at the phone.
Marco stopped in the middle of the room. He looked at me on the floor, at Leo, then at the phone on the table. His tie was a little loosened now.
"Whose phone is that?" he asked.
No one answered for a second.
Gloria said, "Mine."
Marco reached down and picked it up. His thumb hit the side button and the screen lit up. I saw the glow hit his face from below.
He frowned. He swiped. He went still.
Vanessa shifted her weight but didn't uncross her arms.
Marco read out loud, quiet at first, like he wasn't sure he was reading it right. "'Come at 7, need to talk about Leo.'"
My stomach dropped.
He turned the phone so Gloria could see it, though she already knew what it said. "You sent this?"
Gloria's mouth was a tight line. She nodded once. "To the family group."
"When?" Marco asked.
"About an hour ago," she said. Her voice was even, like she thought even was the same as calm. "Before you got home. I told your aunt and your cousin and your father. They were worried. They wanted to help."
I felt Leo's fingers tighten in my shirt.
Marco looked at me then. "You knew?"
I shook my head. I hadn't known. I'd known Gloria was on her phone the whole time, holding it with both hands, looking down while Leo cried, but I thought she was texting one person, or scrolling, or ignoring us. I hadn't known she'd already decided for us that the house would fill up tonight.
Seven o'clock. I looked at the sheer curtains. The light was still bright, warm and high. It was barely five. There were two hours.
I thought about what that would be like. Marco's aunt with her loud opinions, his cousin who always brought a dish and then commented on how I kept the house, his father who never said much but watched everything. They would come in with casseroles and concern and they would all look at Leo and then at me on the floor like this was evidence. I could already hear the chairs being moved, the entryway crowded with coats, everyone talking over each other about what was best for Leo.
"So they are all coming here," I said. My voice sounded smaller than I wanted it to.
"To talk," Gloria said. "To help us figure this out. Leo needs -"
"Don't," I said. I didn't raise my voice. I didn't have to. Leo flinched anyway at the change in my tone and started to cry again, a fresh, high sound that cut right through the room.
Vanessa spoke then, over him. "We can't do this alone, Elena. You saw how he was. You're overwhelmed."
"We were fine before you came," I said. I held Leo tighter and rocked a little, trying to shush him, but he was crying harder now, his face pressed into my shoulder. The raised voices had done it, even the low ones. He'd been quiet for a few minutes and now he was gone again.
Marco was still holding the phone, staring at the screen like if he looked long enough the message would unsend itself. His jaw was tight. The screen dimmed and he tapped it again to keep it lit.
He read the next line under his breath. There were replies. I could see the little bubbles stacked under her message. One, two, three replies already. People saying they would be there. People saying prayers.
He locked the phone. He didn't put it down. He held it at his side.
"Elena," he said.
I looked up at him. Leo's crying was getting louder, wet against my neck.
May you like
The clock on the wall behind the sofa ticked. Seven o'clock felt suddenly very close, like a door that was already opening in another room and we just hadn't heard the handle turn yet.
I had to decide whether we would still be here when it did.
