Chapter 5: I Kept the Photos and Folded the Uniform
I didn't sleep much. Every hour I checked Sofia, then checked the lock, then checked my wrist. Around five the sky went pale blue through the curtain and I could hear sprinklers starting on the lawn.
Before I woke Sofia, I made two decisions. The first was not to call the sheriff yet. The second was to make sure if I ever needed to, I wouldn't be trying to remember what my arm had looked like.
At six-thirty, while Sofia was still asleep, I took three photos of my wrist in the bathroom light with my phone — one straight on, one angled to show the swelling, one with my yellow glove pulled up next to it for scale. The images were sharp and ugly against the white tile. I emailed them to myself, then to my sister in Ohio with a note that just said "keeping this for my records - E 5/11" and nothing else. I didn't want to explain in writing. I just wanted a timestamp somewhere that wasn't my phone.
The second thing I did was fold my uniform. The black dress and white apron I'd worn yesterday were still damp at the cuff where water from the jug had spilled. I laid them on the small table and folded them instead of putting them in the hamper. I slipped the yellow gloves into a grocery bag and set the bag by the door. I wasn't sure if Mrs. Keller or anyone would want them, but I didn't want to wash away what was there before someone else saw it.
At seven I called Sofia's school. I kept my voice calm and used the name they knew me by.
"This is Elena Ruiz, Sofia's mom, kindergarten," I said. "I'm confirming pickup for today. Only me or Mrs. Keller, Anna Keller. No one else. Can you note that?"
The front desk woman checked. "We have you and Anna Keller, yes. No changes. Is everything okay?"
"Yes," I said. "Just confirming. We had a change at home and I wanted to be sure."
She said she'd put a flag on the file. When I hung up, my hand was shaking a little. Sofia was sitting up in bed, rubbing her eyes.
"Do I have school today?" she asked.
"Yes," I said. "Mrs. Keller will walk you to the bus if I can't."
I made toast in the kitchenette and wrapped my wrist loosely with a clean bandage Mrs. Keller had left. I told myself calling the school was enough for now. A report would bring a deputy to the house, and a deputy would bring questions Sofia would have to hear. Documenting felt like a middle path — I wasn't hiding it and I wasn't throwing it into the world before I knew what Alessandro would actually do.
At seven-twenty-five I walked Sofia to the side path where Mrs. Keller was waiting with a travel mug. She looked at my bandaged wrist and gave a short nod.
May you like
"Ready for the kitchen?" she asked.
I left the grocery bag with the gloves and the folded uniform on the table, took the phone with the photos in my pocket, and took Sofia's hand. The French doors of the main house were bright with morning sun. The crystal jug was still on the kitchen counter where I'd left it, empty and catching light, waiting to be either put away or kept as something else.
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