“The numbers for what?” I asked, clearing my throat. “The second bedroom is already set up.”
She kept her back to me, her fingers smoothing down the sleeve of a grey woolen sweater. “Leo needs his own space for the therapy equipment Dr. Vance mentioned.”
“If this is about the clinic bills from Elm Road, we can do a payment plan,” I said. “I spoke to the billing clerk on Tuesday.”
“It is not about the billing clerk,” she said, her voice dropping to a whisper.
She laid three pairs of trousers flat in the suitcase. The apartment was quiet except for the rhythmic sound of Leo breathing in the nursery down the hall.
She opened her small wooden jewelry box on the nightstand. I expected her to take her grandmother’s opal ring, but she left it in the velvet slot.
Goldi held a blue maternity blouse in both hands, her fingers digging into the cotton until her knuckles went white. She did not fold it, but laid it gently on the heap of sweaters.
“I need you to promise you will keep his feeding schedule,” she said, her back still turned. “Every four hours, Arthur. Even if he is sleeping, you wake him.”
“Of course I will keep his schedule,” I said, my throat dry as I cleared it. “Why are you talking like you won’t be here to mix the formula tonight?”
She zipped the suitcase side pocket, the metal teeth rasping in the quiet room. She still had not looked toward the open nursery door.
“The landlord wants the rent by the fifth of the month, and the water bill is already past due,” she said.
I watched her hand reach for her heavy winter coat on the back of the door, her fingers wrapping around the hanger. “Goldi, stop this.”
