After she left, I sat there in the rocking chair for a long time, looking down at my daughter’s hair.
Something was turning over in my mind. Something I couldn’t quite catch.
I can’t believe you did this to me.
I was too exhausted to finish the thought. I put Evelyn in the bassinet, and I lay down, and somewhere around four-thirty, finally, I slept.
The next day was Sunday.
My dad made pancakes, which was the only thing he knew how to cook. He made them shaped like Mickey Mouse, the way he used to when I was little, and he slid a plate in front of me and said, “Eat. Doctor’s orders.”You’re not a doctor, Dad.”
“I’m the doctor of this kitchen.”
I ate two pancakes. It was the most I’d eaten in three days.
Evelyn was asleep in her car seat on the kitchen table. My mom kept getting up from her coffee to check on her. Every time she did, she’d touch Evelyn’s hair and smile to herself.
