Eleanor sat in the armchair filing her nails while Marina rocked her screaming baby boy. Little Mikey had been crying for forty minutes straight, and the sound was ringing in her ears, but Eleanor didn’t so much as turn her head. She kept working the nail file back and forth, occasionally lifting her hand to the light to inspect the shape.
“Sweetheart, when’s dinner?” she asked without looking up. Marina pressed Mikey against her chest, feeling her T-shirt damp with sweat. She hadn’t slept through the night in three days, and the whole world felt like it was drifting in a heavy fog.
Then Kyle came in. He was in a good mood. Marina could tell by the way he was whistling under his breath.
He had a printout in his hand, and at first she didn’t understand what it was. Then she saw the bank logo. Then the transfer amount.
Fifteen hundred dollars—taken from all of her bank cards. The money had been transferred into Eleanor’s account. “That’s for her help. Get used to it,” Kyle said, tossing the paper onto the table.
He said it like this was perfectly normal, as if there were nothing strange about taking money from his wife’s account and sending it to his mother without asking. Marina stood up so fast that Mikey went quiet for a second from the sudden movement. “Help with what?” she cried.
“She hasn’t lifted a finger!” Her voice cracked into a shout, and even she was startled by the sound of it—so raw, so desperate. Kyle stepped toward her, and his face changed.
The easygoing look vanished. So did the good mood. He grabbed her by the arm—not hard, but tight enough that she couldn’t pull away. “One more word and you’re out on the street,” he said through clenched teeth.
But he never got to finish. The doorbell rang from the front hall. Then again, longer this time, sharp and insistent.
Kyle let go of her arm and went to answer it, smoothing out his expression as he walked, putting his usual face back on. A man in uniform stepped into the room. From the badge, Marina guessed he was a police officer.
Behind him came a woman in her forties in a gray suit with a folder tucked under her arm. The officer introduced himself as Officer Daniels, and the woman said she was with Child Protective Services. “We got a report from the neighbors,” Daniels said, looking around the room.
“They’ve heard the baby crying every day, and there have been loud arguments. We’re required to check.” Marina froze with Mikey in her arms.
All at once she saw herself through their eyes. A stained T-shirt with spit-up on the shoulder. Red eyes from no sleep. Hair she hadn’t washed in three days. And a crying infant she couldn’t seem to calm down. Eleanor rose from the chair, and the transformation began…
