Cass scanned the online apartment sites every day. Desperate, she broadened her search beyond the neighborhoods of Boston and found an ad for a room in the home of an elderly man near the Wortherton Library. The rent was free in return for caretaking and housekeeping.
More or less the same deal I have now, she thought. Without the fighting.
She called immediately. Nancy Kulch, the man’s daughter, answered. Her voice was warm and encouraging, and Cass found herself responding with surprising confidence. She said she’d been housekeeping for a Wortherton homeowner who traveled on business, but there had been some uncomfortable incidents lately, and she wanted a position with less drama.
“I understand,” said Nancy knowingly. “All too well, my dear. All too well.”
“There’s something you should know, though. I’m pregnant.” Cass pressed her lips together hard, waiting for Nancy to shut her down.
“How wonderful! Dad loves babies. He’ll be delighted just to sit in his BarcaLounger and watch you two play. My goodness, that’ll be the most pleasant activity for him.” As it turned out, the elderly Mr. Kulch was also hard of hearing, so a crying baby wouldn’t bother him in the least. “Now I should mention that my father has Alzheimer’s, and sometimes he wanders. He’s not angry or uncooperative, but he can’t be left on his own.”
“Okay . . .” It didn’t sound so bad, but Cass got a funny feeling about it.
“With a new baby, you’ll have your hands full. Are you sure you’re up for this?”
For free rent in a safe neighborhood—and near the library, too?
“I’m absolutely sure.” They discussed references—Laurel would give her one for babysitting, and she knew Scott would say something nice, if only to get her out of the house. An interview was scheduled for the following Saturday, September 15.
“A baby!” said Nancy. “Wait till I tell my sister. She won’t believe the luck.”
* * *
LAUREL was not enthusiastic about the caretaker position. “With a new baby?” she said. “Between the postpartum hormone storms and sleep deprivation, you’ll be out of your mind for the first month, at least. You can’t look after a wandering old man on top of all that.”
But the baby was not due for another two months. Cass figured that if it wasn’t going to work, at least she’d have some breathing room to figure something else out.
When Scott got home, he didn’t ask about whether she’d found an apartment, or even if she’d looked. He just worked out, watched Hoarders and Pawn Stars and ate his Pop-Tarts.
On the morning of the interview, Cass woke early. She picked out her best maternity outfit and researched interview questions for caretakers and tried to come up with answers to the questions. If they asked for a résumé, she was sunk. Her work history was a tattered patchwork of short stints, and none of her former bosses could be used as references.
But Nancy Kulch wanted this to work, which made Cass hopeful that somehow it would.
“Where you going?” Scott asked. “Lunch with your sponsor or something?”
“No, I have an interview.” She explained the position to him. His face stayed passive, but she knew that, if anything, it was an indication of some sort of heightened emotion. The harder he tried not to feel anything, the blanker he looked.
“Huh,” he said. “That was fast.”
I’m leaving, and that’s all you have to say? She felt the blow as if he’d slapped her.
The phone rang—the landline, which he never answered anymore. She wondered if he would start answering it again when she was gone. Or get rid of it altogether.
“Hello?” she said. Scott wandered off to the office to check his email.
“A Miss Cassandra Macklin, please.”
“This is she.”
“Miss Macklin, this is Myra Kulch, Nancy’s sister. I’m afraid she may not have given you the full picture.” Her words were apologetic, but her tone was not. “We’re looking for a seasoned home health aide for my father. His condition is deteriorating rapidly. And with your pregnancy, I’m afraid I just can’t see how this would work.”
Cass’s breath froze in her chest. She managed to let out a crippled little “Oh.”
“I’m sorry for the misunderstanding. My sister is kindhearted and was quite taken with the idea of having a baby in the house again. I hope you’ll accept my apologies.” She wished Cass the best of luck with the delivery. “I envy you,” she added wistfully. “Just starting out at the beginning of life, with so much to look forward to and so many memories to make.”
It’s not like that, Cass wanted to say. You have no idea of the mess I’m in.
Afterward Cass stared out the window into the backyard. The grass was long. Drew must have forgotten to mow it this week.
So strange the things that came to mind when your best chance has just turned to cinders. The lawn. The lunch dishes in the sink. The towels in the dryer.
Scott came into the kitchen and started sifting through the mail on the counter, though she was pretty sure he’d already looked at it.
“They wanted someone with more experience,” she told him. “And not pregnant.”
“Oh,” he said, studying a flyer from a house painting company. “You tried, though.”
She was so tired. She wanted to go up to her room, with its soothing blues and greens, and lie down for about a month. But someday soon she would be . . . somewhere else. Hard to imagine that the new place would be nearly as nice, or safe, or encouraging. Safety, of course, was the most important thing, but she was also coming to truly appreciate the encouragement.
He was still standing there, holding a supermarket circular.
“I’ll keep trying,” she said quietly. When she looked up, he glanced away.
He tossed the circular in the recycling and went back to the office.
* * *
IT was hard to get her class work done. Cass spent a lot of time on the internet trolling for housing. She wanted to be near Laurel and Patrick and her regular AA meeting. It was all she could think about now: how to remain near those who made her feel safe.
She even wanted to be near Scott. As uncomfortable as it was between them, the idea of losing contact with him made her think about drinking.
You’re too dependent! she railed at herself. He’s just a guy! Stand on your own two feet, for godsake. But her own two feet were swollen and sore.
If I had my mother . . .
She tried not to think of it. She would never have her mother back. She would be a mother, and have to be strong and sheltering for someone else. But as the days passed the thoughts of her mother came more and more, and the schoolwork got done less and less.
“We’re out of milk,” Scott told her. It was not accusatory or demanding, just a simple statement of fact.
“Okay,” she breathed and hurried from the room so he wouldn’t see her eyes fill. Crying over milk. Not even spilled milk, only the fact that it would have to be carried home from the store a mile away, the simmering ache in her back blown into a full boil by the extra weight.
On Thursday, Scott drove her to her checkup. He walked in, and she hoped he would come with her to the exam room, like he had for the ultrasound. But he just slumped into a seat in the waiting area and took out his phone.
“You want to come in and hear the baby’s heartbeat?” she asked.
“Nah, that’s okay.” His thumb dabbed at the tiny screen like a nervous twitch.
The receptionist gave her one brief, bright smile—as if she hadn’t noticed that the man who’d been so anxious to go with Cass a month ago now preferred to sit in a molded plastic chair, likely covered in an impressive variety of germs, and play with his phone.
Probably Angry Birds, thought Cass. How appropriate.
Ana was kind, as usual, and sprinkled questions throughout the exam as to how Cass was feeling. “And you’re being treated well at home, mi hija?”
My daughter. Cass could have wept.
“Yes, fine,” she said. Because she was. He did not yell or grab her. In fact, he kept at least an arm’s distance between them at all times. She would have given anything to feel his hand on her back as she walked up the stairs, or on her belly when the baby kicked.
Ana didn’t seem satisfied with her answers, but those were the only ones she had to give.
* * *
SHE asked Kate about getting an apartment together. Kate was sympathetic, but not ready to move out of her cousin’s house. “I’m still not making that much money,” she said. “Also, it’s just really good for me here. Stable. Melanie’s so . . . you know . . . normal.”
Normal, as in not a recovering drunk or about to have a life-changing event. Or both.
Kate kept apologizing.
“Hey, it’s okay,” said Cass. “I wouldn’t leave, either, if I were you.”
“But you saved my life!”
“I helped you out,” said Cass. “But I didn’t do it so you could turn around and put yourself at risk again, even if it’s for my sake.”
It felt very noble, and Kate was grateful for her understanding. When Cass hung up the phone, she picked up the can of pencils from the desk and hurled it across the room.
She even broached the subject with Laurel. “Any chance you’re interested in having a live-in nanny?” she said, grinning as if it were a joke, although it was certainly no joke.
Laurel sighed. “Oh, Cass. I’ve thought of that, of course. I even got Adam to agree. But Belva went into orbit. She says it’s too early for me to take on something this big, a new mother with a baby. I told her that you’d be helping me, too, but she didn’t buy it for a minute.”
Cass nodded and smiled and made noises about Laurel being a good friend even to consider it. But it took every ounce of self-control to bite back a nasty comment about how Belva might be sober when it came to alcohol, but she was obviously drunk on her own power.
* * *
THE next afternoon, after she’d dissected the housing classifieds down to the thinnest, driest artery, Cass’s memory failed her. She could not remember why one drink would be so bad. She knew she should talk to someone to remind her, but she didn’t feel like talking.
She felt like drinking.