Once Savi is in the bathroom, I consider what she just said. Savi set fire to her dad’s possessions? How much pain must she be in to do something like that? I realize that with all of my current drama, I haven’t been here for anything Crystal might have been going through too.
As I pace the foyer, I realize Savi never brought her cello down. I tap the floor with my cane to be sure. I decide to grab her new one. I’ve already memorized my path. It’s an obsessive habit that has paid off over the years. While I’ve always been meticulous, once you’ve injured yourself due to miscalculations, you learn to self-correct. I go over the math in my head now: twenty-four steps to the landing. At the top, the study is five steps to the right. Her cello is on its stand. I lower it carefully into the case, clean the bow, and place the music in the sleeve in case she wants to bring it.
And then, that noise again.
I step halfway into the hall, too afraid to breathe or move in fear of missing it. I slither against the wall and stay quiet. My body crackles while I strain to hear. I can’t explain why the hairs on the back of my neck rise to attention as I get closer to the guest room.
My hand rests on the knob. I know once I open the door, I’ll find a bed, dresser, drapes, dust. Nothing special.
I twist the knob. Instead of a stale guest room, there’s the familiar scent of baby wipes and a diaper pail. An anticipatory breath shudders through my body. It’s not a guest room—it’s a nursery. Upon entering, the noise grows louder: a jingle.
The bells.
I charge through the room. My knee connects with something sharp before I bump into the rails of a crib. Another jingle—the same one I’d heard before—cracks through my heart like a bat. I would know those bells anywhere.
“Jackson!” I reach into the crib, hungry for my baby. My hands shake so much, I worry I might drop him before he’s even in my arms. His sweet smell overwhelms all other senses. The bells fall from his tiny fingers.
It’s him.
I traverse his skin: head, eyes, nose, mouth, the bumpy patch behind his ear, the notch in his collarbone, and sink to the ground. I smother him in kisses, my entire heart swelling with relief while I rock him against my chest. My baby is alive. My baby is here. My baby is safe.
I don’t even have time to make sense of why Jackson is in this house. He’s here, and that’s all that matters. I gather my thoughts and then take out my phone. I snap photos of everything, wildly pointing and clicking to show that this is not my house. I place Jackson back into the crib for a moment, and he starts crying. I snap his photo, then shove the phone into my pocket before picking him back up. “I’m sorry, sweet boy. I just need proof.” He settles, and I pause in the doorway. Is there another way out?
I take a breath and tiptoe back down the hall toward the top of the stairs. I pray he stays quiet so I can get down the stairs safely and outside.
I pause on the landing. Crystal is still on the phone. The sound of her voice ignites my fury. All of my senses rise and solidify: anger, fear, disbelief. I anchor Jackson in my arms and hesitate on the very top stair.
“Ms. Rebecca?” Savi’s voice is incredulous from the first floor.
My body trembles until I am vibrating with rage. “Why is he here?” It is the only logical thing I can think to ask.
Savi runs away and calls for her mother. Her voice is as terrified as I feel.
I descend the steps carefully but quickly and almost ram straight into Crystal on the last stair.
“Please let me explain. Please.” Crystal’s voice tips toward hysterical. She reaches for me, and I claw at her hand like a wild animal.
“Don’t fucking touch me. Don’t you ever come near me again, do you hear me? You are going to jail.”
“Mommy!” Savi begins to cry, and my heart aches for this child with such a duplicitous monster for a mother.
“Rebecca, please. I need to tell you what happened. I—”
I run out the door and trip on the stairs. I right myself, flick open my cane, and snuggle my child. My heart beats