Chapter 29
Black smudges mar the pouches beneath Mark’s eyes, and he looks gaunt with stress and lack of sleep. Rebecca looks even worse.
Mark sits on Maddy’s bed, thumbing away at his phone while Rebecca gets Maddy ready for school in the bathroom, making sure she remembers to brush her molars.
“Wha ids Dabby ind hebe?” Maddy says through a mouthful of toothpaste.
Rebecca tries at a translation: “Why is Daddy in here?”
Maddy nods, leaning forward, a pointy beard of Crest froth dangling from her chin. She washes her face clean.
“He just wants to see you.”
“But he isn’t seeing me. He’s on his phone. Like always.”
“He’s just digging out from work, Maddysaurus. There’s been a lot going on.”
But when Rebecca peers into the bedroom, Mark is not on his phone anymore.
Instead he is leafing through a photo album of Maddy’s birth, which he has pulled off the bookshelf.
The photo on the cover is Rebecca way pregnant, hand on her belly, smiling at the iPhone.
The iOS photo software selected the best pictures from the avalanche they took in the first months, a one-click companion app outsourced them, and three days later the album showed up, manufactured in Vietnam.
The pictures are the best ones, she supposes, but the album itself feels generic, devoid of warmth, stamped out of a mold.
She misses the yellowed edges of photographs from her youth, the sticky cellophane that trapped them imperfectly in place against the album pages.
Mark flips through the images of their family’s genesis, his face soft, thoughtful. Affection stirs in Rebecca’s chest as she watches him, a young-feeling love from when they were first dating, first pregnancy, when it was the two of them side by side embarking on their adventure in the world.
The sound of dishes clanking in the kitchen disrupts her reverie. Mark’s head snaps up. The last they checked, Mr. Man was still sealed in his prism, recharging.
Mark takes a breath, nods at her reassuringly.
After Maddy dresses and loads her backpack, the threesome head down the hall, Mark in the lead.
Mr. Man stands over the table, holding a pot of fresh coffee. Scrambled eggs steam on plates. Forks rest on napkins, including Maddy’s with the watermelon handle.
Mark and Rebecca stare at Mr. Man.
He looks innocuous, helpful, the Mr. Man they knew before.
“Would you like coffee?” Mr. Man says. “Kenyan blend?”
Mark says, “Sure.”
Mr. Man pours two cups.
Rebecca and Mark are still standing across the room, Maddy behind them, chewing on a backpack strap. Over on the kitchen desk, the titanium business card winks in the morning sun.
The toaster pops, and Rebecca, on edge, gives a little yelp.
Mr. Man retrieves the toast with bare fingers, resilient to the heat, and lays a slice on each plate. That breaks the spell.
As Mark and Rebecca sit, Maddy dashes over to the rabbit cage. “Morning, Bao-Bao!”
She unlatches the cage and gathers the bunny into her arms, stroking his neck.
Rebecca says, “Mr. Man, why don’t you rake the pine needles in the front yard?”
Mr. Man gives a tidy little bow and exits through the garage, where the gardening tools are kept.
Mark sets his iPhone on the table, presses to dial, hits Speaker.
“Mommy,” Maddy says.
Rebecca hushes her, points to Mark’s phone. The speaker announces ringing on the other end of the call.
Derek answers by saying, “Tell me you updated the readability enhancements on the bot modules.”
“I have,” Mark says in a strained voice. “But I’ll have to send them from home.”
“Why’s that?” Derek makes no effort to disguise his aggravation.
“I have strep,” Mark lies.
“Strep,” Derek says suspiciously.
Maddy is regarding “Bao-Bao” differently. “Mommy,” she says in a strained whisper.
Rebecca puts a hush finger to her lips.
“Yeah,” Mark says. “It’s going around Maddy’s school.”
“Kids are petri dishes,” Derek says. “Send the update. And get antibiotics or whatever. I need you back here ASAP.”
Derek cuts the line.
Mark rubs his face. When he’s done, Rebecca catches his eye, mouths, Thank you.
“Daddy, you have strep?”
“I’m not feeling so good, kiddo. I might have to get a test.”
“But you said you had strep.”
“I know, Maddysaurus. I might.”
“Why don’t I get you to school,” Rebecca says, “so Daddy can stay here and rest?”
Maddy feeds “Bao-Bao” back into the crate, comes to the table, picks at her eggs. “What’s for lunch?”
“I didn’t have time to make lunch,” Rebecca says. “So you’ll have to buy today.”
“I hate buying.”
“I know.”
“’Less it’s grilled-cheese day.”
“I know.”
Maddy scampers to the fridge, checks the printout. “It’s not grilled-cheese day.”
“I know.”
Maddy screws up her face. “It’s fish sticks. They’re super gross. And I hate waiting in line. And having to figure out change. If I don’t get it right, the other kids make fun of me.”
Rebecca crosses the kitchen and leans to see out the bay windows. Mr. Man is raking the front yard. He’ll be at it a long time, and then Mark will find other chores to keep him busy until the six o’clock call with N0RM LLC.
“You’ll get it right,” she hears Mark say. “It’s just math. And besides, the other kids are being nicer, right?”
And then Maddy: “It won’t last.”
Rebecca wonders if there will come a day when one of Maddy’s simple observations won’t shatter her heart. When she turns around, Maddy darts over to her. “Mommy. I’ve been trying to tell you.” She points. “That’s not Bao-Bao.”
Rebecca grapples with opening this fresh can of worms right now in the middle of everything else.
She yearns to give way to the truth, but if she does there will be a world-ending meltdown and more emotions and complications, and she cannot contend with more emotions and complications in this moment.
She feels a frozen weight across her face, heavy like a mask.
She hears herself saying, “Sure it is, Maddysaurus.”
Mark steps in: “Off you go, kiddo. You’re gonna be late.”
Maddy grabs her backpack and scampers into the garage, Rebecca trailing.
Mark looks up. “We got this,” he tells her.
Rebecca swallows past the lump in her throat.