I pulled out my phone and keyed in that number I knew by heart.
Dial. Hang up.
After a dozen calls in a row, Abraham finally deigned to pick up.
"What now?"
"Didn't I already tell you I'm slammed right now? What's so earth-shattering that you have to bother me while I'm working?"
"May's in the hospital. Because of that takeout you ordered."
The line went quiet for a moment.
Abraham softened his voice.
"Because of the takeout? No way."
"How did that kid end up so fragile."
"Forget it. Send me your location, I'll come keep you company now."
The call ended.
The last thing that reached my ear was the sound of a game loading.
And Abraham's voice, saying:
"It's fine, don't worry about her."
"Married women are nothing but trouble."
"One little thing, and she has to make a whole production out of it, drag the whole world into it."
If I could hear it, then of course May could hear it too.
She looked at me, her expression calm.
A calm that didn't belong to a child.
Numb, hurting, stripped of any expectation.
"Daddy's not coming, is he?"
Yes. We both knew the answer.
I pressed down the ache in my chest. I reached out and pulled the little girl in front of me tight against me.
"It's okay if Daddy doesn't come. Mommy's here with you."
"Even without Daddy, Mommy and May can still live a happy life."
May was good that way. She didn't push the question any further.
Maybe she'd just grown used to Abraham's coldness and neglect.
She was sad for only a little while before sinking into a deep sleep.
More than three hours passed, and Abraham still hadn't come.
I didn't dare scroll on my phone, so I dug the notebook out of my bag to pass the time.
I opened it, and the name "Charlotte Pruitt" jumped off the page.
I knew that girl. The secretary at the client company, the one assigned to liaise with Abraham.
What I didn't know was just how much care Abraham had put into her.
The thick little book was filled cover to cover with her likes and habits.
From things as big as her life plans, down to things as small as her menstrual cycle.
Even an offhand remark Charlotte tossed out had been recorded, neat and tidy.
No wonder Abraham never took a single word I said to heart.
It turned out he'd given all his favor to another girl.
Something seemed to lodge itself in my chest.
It took me a long time to finish reading those notes.
By the moment I closed the book, it was already the small hours of the morning.
Abraham came strolling in at last.
In his hand, a half-eaten order of crawfish.
"Work kept me tied up, ran a little late."
"You and May haven't eaten yet, right?"
"I picked up the best crawfish near the office. Let's have some together."
May had stomach trouble and couldn't eat spicy food.
I was allergic to fish and shellfish.
Abraham hadn't remembered any of it.
He peeled out the vein with practiced ease and held the meat up to my lips.
"Try some. I made a point of telling them no cilantro, and an extra scoop of chili."
No cilantro, loves it spicy.
Those were all Charlotte's habits.
There was a passage in that pink notebook that read exactly like this.
"Charlotte loves Cajun food, hates scallions and cilantro."
"Charlotte doesn't like peeling shellfish, afraid she'll ruin her nails."
"Charlotte changes her nail design once a month, costing anywhere from $500 to $800. Sending her a $13.14 'forever love' transfer each time works best."
See. It wasn't that Abraham couldn't be attentive.
It was just that he wouldn't be attentive to me.
He could keep every single word from the woman he loved in his heart, yet he couldn't remember a single thing that had to do with me.
