Chloe was in her carrier when I walked to the door.
A woman named Tessa answered.
She was wearing one of Eric’s shirts.
Her eyes moved to the carrier, then back to me.
“Eric,” she called. “Claire’s here.”
He appeared behind her looking annoyed.
I lifted the carrier slightly.
“Please look at your daughter.”
He did, but only briefly.
“I’m not asking for anything for myself,” I said. “Her treatment is expensive.”
“I have a life now.”
“So does she.”
He looked away.
“Stop coming here.”
Tessa folded her arms.
I waited for Eric to soften.
He didn’t.
The door closed.
I stood on the porch listening to Chloe make small noises inside the carrier, and something inside me finally became quiet.
Not destroyed.
Not defeated.
Finished.
For weeks, I had been trying to make Eric remember that we mattered.
I stopped trying.
When I reached home, my neighbor June helped me carry Chloe upstairs.
