Chapter 1 - The Suitcase Wheels Stop
The wheels sounded too loud on the wood. That was what I noticed first, how hard Derek was pulling that big black suitcase toward the open front door, like he wanted the noise to cover everything else. Morning light was coming straight through the doorway and the tall window beside it, bright enough that I had to squint, bright enough to see the dust in the air and the silver SUV parked out in the driveway. He didn't look at me. He just kept walking, handle extended, jaw tight behind those dark sunglasses, his watch catching the light when he adjusted his grip.
I stepped sideways and blocked him. My sweater hung loose over my belly and I could feel the baby press hard under my ribs as I moved. The black duffel was still on the floor where I'd left it, the hospital bag I'd packed two weeks early, and beside it the folder with the papers sticking out. He stopped because he had to. For a second the only sound was the house settling and the faint outside air coming in, and him breathing through his nose like he was trying to stay controlled.
My name is Maya, and that morning I was thirty-eight weeks pregnant.
I didn't move away from the bags. I kept my feet planted on either side of that folder, my beige slip-ons almost touching its edge. He was so close I could smell his soap and the clean cotton of his navy polo. His khaki shorts, his gray slip-ons, everything neat and planned. The suitcase stood upright between us now, its handle still up. Through the glass I could see her without trying to. The woman with long light hair in the dark coat, standing still by the SUV. Not getting in. Just waiting.
I looked down because I couldn't keep looking at him. The folder had slid half open on the wood floor. White pages, a printed edge, a corner bent from where I'd carried it. I stared at those papers between our feet until my vision blurred. My hands were at my sides. I didn't pick it up. I had put it there on purpose, where he would have to see it if he tried to walk out, and now that he had seen it, neither of us would say what it was.
May you like
I closed my eyes. I heard him shift his weight. The baby moved again, slow and heavy, and I breathed in through my nose and let it out slow so I wouldn't get dizzy. When I opened my eyes, I didn't cry. I just looked at him, calm because there was nothing left to pretend about. He stared back at me, his mouth a flat line, his sunglasses hiding whatever he was thinking.
Then he moved around me toward the door. I didn't turn at first. I heard his steps, felt the air change as he reached past my shoulder for the knob. His hand closed around it behind me. The door was already open, the daylight and the driveway and that SUV right there, and his fingers tightened and held. He didn't turn it. He didn't pull it wider. He just stood there with his hand on the doorknob, waiting, and I stood there with the duffel and the folder at my feet, waiting for what he would do next.
