He had promised to try to be home by six.
I imagined us sitting down together after Sophie went to sleep.
Maybe he’d give her a bath.
She’d recently discovered that splashing water with her hands was enormously entertaining.
I wanted him to see it.
But six o’clock came and went.
Then six-thirty.
By 6:45, I was bathing Sophie alone.
At 7:05, I wrapped her in her yellow duck towel and called my husband.
He answered on the fourth ring.
“What is it, Madeline?”
His voice sounded impatient.
Not “Hi, sweetheart.”
Not “How’s Sophie?”
Just my full name.
“I was wondering when you’d be home.”
“I’m working.”
“You said you’d try
to be back by six.”
“Plans changed.”
Sophie shifted against my shoulder.
I gently rocked her.
“I made your favorite chicken. And I thought maybe you could help with her bath tonight. She’s started splashing.”
Elon sighed.
A long, irritated sigh.
“Maddie, could you stop checking up on me?”
I went quiet.
“I’m not checking up on you.”
“It feels like you are. I’m trying to support this family.”
“I know.”
“Then please let me work.”
The familiar apology escaped my mouth before I could stop it.
“I’m sorry.”
I’d been apologizing constantly lately.
Sorry for asking questions.
Sorry for needing help.
Sorry for being tired.
Sorry when the house was messy.
Sorry when Sophie cried while he was watching television.
Sometimes I wondered whether I’d forgotten how to speak without apologizing.
“All right,” I said softly. “I’ll see you later. Love you.”
He didn’t answer.
I lowered my phone
onto the changing table.
Then I noticed something strange.
The call was still connected.
The timer continued moving.
I reached toward the screen.
Before I could disconnect, I heard Elon speak.
“She keeps asking when I’ll be home.”
A woman’s voice answered.
“Poor you.”
Then Elon laughed.
Not the exhausted laugh I heard at home.
A genuine, relaxed laugh.
The kind I remembered from our dating years.
I hadn’t heard him sound that happy in months.
“I just want her to leave me alone,” he said.
My hand froze above the phone.
The woman murmured something.
Then Elon replied.
“Don’t worry, Sierra. She doesn’t suspect anything.”
Sierra.
I repeated the name silently.
“She spends all her time with the baby,” Elon continued. “Every conversation is about the baby.”
