The Break(16)

“Are you . . . ,” June starts, but then she trails off and I wait. “Are you getting some good help?” she finally asks. “Like a therapist, I mean? Or some medicine at least?”

It surprises me. It’s a mature thing to ask; I don’t think it’s what I’d be focused on when I was her age. “I am,” I say. “A trauma therapist named Sylvie whom Louisa recommended, actually. Though I don’t know what good it’s doing.” I shake my head. “I still can’t really remember the birth. Last night I dreamt of that day I collapsed and someone called an ambulance.” I still remember that, at least—looking up into the sky and seeing the clouds like bloated white sheep, and then opening my mouth to call out for help and feeling cold air rush inside it.

June looks down at Lila. “Thank God she was all right,” she says, but then she shakes her head too quickly, as if she’s said something wrong.

I don’t tell June about the rest of the dream: how I saw my dad step out of the ambulance and look down at me, bloody on the ground, just like I looked down at him so many years ago. Doughy, small blue eyes. Angry. I blink him away and focus on June. She almost looks scared, like she’s waiting for the story to get worse.

“June, listen,” I say, trying to wave my hand like it’s less of a big deal than it is. I’m probably putting her off becoming a mother with all of this. “I’m okay now,” I say. “Well, I mean, I think I am. Nothing like that has happened again, what happened with you that night.” I brush off the returning image of June dead in the street—that wasn’t quite right, either, how real it felt when it certainly wasn’t. “I’ve felt more like myself,” I say. I take a sip of my latte, wanting so much for what I’ve said to be true.

June nods. I can tell she doesn’t believe me. Smart girl.

“Rowan,” June starts. And then she says, “I need some time off from working for you.”

“Oh, of course,” I say.

She nods and her gold earrings catch the light, a little glitter near her jaw. “I want you to know it’s not because of what happened,” she says.

I’m not sure how that can be true, but still I say, “Okay, sure.”

She holds my gaze. “I care about you and Lila so much,” she says. “It’s more that I need to get away for a little while, and I’d been feeling like that even before everything happened. I’m going upstate to my parents’ house.”

“Oh,” I say. I didn’t realize her parents lived in New York. Which is because I’ve never asked. “Where did you grow up?”



“Harbor Falls,” she says, taking a piece of muffin.

I nod like I know the place. How did I never ask her this on one of our nights out with Gabe and Harrison?

“It’s near Saratoga,” June says.

I smile stupidly because I’ve been there once, and sometimes the ring of familiarity is enough to cheer you. “Gabe and I went to the racetrack a few summers ago,” I say. “It’s gorgeous up there.”

“It is,” she says, but something’s changed on her face. I decide not to press her about her family, her upbringing, no matter how guilty I feel for not already knowing.

“I’m sorry, June,” I say.

“I know you are,” she says, “and I am, too, that everything happened. I really am.”

“You didn’t do anything,” I start to say again, but she’s rising from the table.

“I should go,” she says, unwinding the earmuffs and slipping them onto her head. A gold watch I haven’t seen her wear before catches the light, and then she puts her puffy jacket back on and it’s gone. I think of the watch my dad was killed over, a gorgeous antique number he inherited from his grandmother, and the way diamonds glistened along the wristband in a delicate cascade over my mom’s wrist. It was maybe worth twenty thousand, and I think of him bragging about it to his bar buddies, and then I remember each of their scraggly faces: seven of them. All rebels, all drunks. Each with his own secret desperation and reason to want the watch. We never found out which one of them did it; they splintered after my dad was killed and scattered like dominos. Only one was arrested, but he was let go because the timeline didn’t make sense. There had been robberies in our neighborhood before, so it could have been someone random, but we always assumed it was one of my dad’s friends because they were the only ones who knew about the watch.



I watch June gather her things and put her muffin back into its petite brown bag. I rapid-pat Lila’s butt because I don’t know what else to do. I don’t want to stand up and try to hug June, because I don’t know if she would even want that.

“Will you be okay getting home with Lila?” June asks, staring at Lila’s beautiful face.

“Yes, of course,” I say, thinking how glad I am that when June leaves I won’t be sitting here alone. I’ll be with my daughter. “We’ll be fine. Thank you for meeting me,” I say, but she’s already edging away from us.

“Goodbye, Rowan,” she says.

I watch her weave through the customers and open the door. She heads west along the sidewalk, and then abruptly heads north, crossing the middle of the street and barely missing the edge of a taxi. The driver blasts the horn. My eyes go a few feet ahead of her trajectory to the other side of the street and I see Sean standing on the sidewalk. I squint to be sure it’s him. Was he really standing out there the whole time in the cold, waiting for June? Watching us?