The Finishing School

40

MELANIE ROCKED-back, forth, back, forth in the glider rocker-caressing Maya’s dark head, lulling and soothing, singing softly. Maya’s hair was like silk, her small body warm and heavy and delicious with drowsiness. The little girl sighed, her eyelids fluttering in wordless dreams.

When Melanie was certain the child slept, she rose to her feet in a fluid motion, holding Maya gingerly, like a piece of fine porcelain. She stepped over to the crib and lowered the side rail with her knee, then gathered her daughter near. Sniffing Maya’s neck, she drank deeply of the powdery scent. Love rose in her throat like tears.

Melanie placed Maya gently on the mattress. She raised the crib rail, turned, and walked to the center of the room, where she stood waiting silently. She wasn’t sure for what, but in a moment she understood. A strange blue light shone down on the crib. A gurgling sound rose from within.

Melanie walked back over to the crib and looked down into it.

“Help me,” Carmen Reyes begged, raising her arms as blood began to stream from her nose and mouth.

Melanie opened her eyes with a gasp, mouth dry, nightgown soaked with sweat. The clock read 4:20. The alarm was set to go off at four-thirty, so she’d have time to pack and catch an eight o’clock flight out of JFK.

She sat up. Then she heard it. A strange sound coming from the direction of Maya’s room, and this time she wasn’t dreaming. She leaped out of bed with a pounding heart and raced to the hallway. A sharp pain in her lower back reminded her vividly of the Escalade bearing down on her last night. Why the hell hadn’t she done anything about that? She hadn’t even reported it to other members of her team, let alone requested any protection. Just because some witness lied to you, to forget all about the fact that your main target tried to have you whacked? Jesus, how stupid could you be?

In the darkened hallway, she glanced nervously over her shoulder and listened. Nothing. Dead silence except for her own rapid breathing. Whatever she’d heard, she wasn’t hearing it now. She snapped on the hall light, recoiling at the glare, then hurried to Maya’s room.

When she saw what awaited her, Melanie almost wished it had been one of Expo’s goons in her house. Maya sat upright in her crib, a dazed expression on her face. There was a sour smell in the room. In the glow from the night-light, Melanie saw something pale-colored standing out against her daughter’s dark hair. Taking a step closer, she saw that it was an undigested piece of macaroni from last night’s dinner. Maya was covered with vomit.

“Oh, no!” Melanie cried, lowering the crib rail and lifting Maya out. She rested her cheek against her daughter’s forehead. Maya was burning up. “Poor baby, you can’t catch a break. Sick again, when you’re just getting over the last one? Don’t worry. Mommy’s gonna make you feel better.”

She turned on the overhead light, dimming it so it wouldn’t hurt Maya’s eyes, and held her daughter away so she could get a better look at her. Maya stared back with a glazed, feverish look. She moaned softly, then spewed hot vomit all over the front of Melanie’s nightgown.

“Oh, boy.”

Melanie rushed to the bathroom, gently undressed Maya, sponged her with a warm washcloth, and changed her into fresh clothes. She stripped off her own nightgown and threw it in the wash along with Maya’s jammies and bedding. During the next half hour, Maya vomited twice more, including throwing up the fever reducer Melanie tried to give her. So, walking around her chilly apartment stark naked because she didn’t even have time to get her bathrobe, Melanie mopped the floor, changed and washed Maya twice, and beeped the pediatrician, who was annoyed to be disturbed so early. There was a stomach bug going around, he said. Give the child lots of fluids and call the office in three days if it hadn’t resolved.

Melanie didn’t know what to do. She couldn’t imagine going off to Puerto Rico and leaving Maya in this condition, with some patchwork combination of Steve, the baby-sitter, and Melanie’s mother looking after her. She felt more panicked than she had last night with the car chasing her. The sky outside her windows was turning pink, and time was ticking away for her to pack and get to the airport.

She called and woke Steve. Fifteen minutes later, he showed up at her door and he was better than Melanie ever expected. He helped her get a fever reducer into Maya, then looked after her so Melanie could shower, dress, and pack. But the best thing he did was calm Melanie down.

“First of all, she’s gonna be fine. It’s just a stomach bug,” Steve said, standing in the bathroom doorway holding the now sleeping Maya as Melanie, clad in bra and panties, applied her makeup.

“Hey, turn around,” she said, waving the mascara wand at him.

“What, like I never saw you in your skivvies before?”

“Come on. Be nice.”

He made a show of turning his body sideways, though he was clearly still watching her.

Melanie sighed profoundly. “I just can’t stand not being with her while she’s suffering like this. I mean, she doesn’t understand why she feels so bad, you know?”

“I know, baby. It’s just awful that you have to work. That’s one thing that could be different if you and I got back together.”

She remained conspicuously silent in response to that comment. Like she would up and quit her job and go back to him when he’d been spotted out clubbing mere days earlier. Fat freaking chance. Still, she was grateful he was here.

“But, look, she’ll be well cared for,” Steve said, glossing over her silence without missing a beat. “We both think Sandy is good, right? And at night I’ll stay over here and take care of her. I’m her daddy, after all. Just leave your mom’s number in case I have a work crisis myself.”

“Thank you. I appreciate it so much. Like I said, I’ll be back Saturday morning at the latest.”

“That’s good. You know, I was thinking. My parents are in St. Barth’s. I don’t have any plans. Maybe I should just bring some things by, and the three of us could spend the weekend together. That way if she’s still sick, I can pitch in and help, and if she’s better, we can all enjoy the holiday time. It’s almost Christmas, you know.”

She paused with her lipstick in her hand and gazed over at him leaning against the doorframe. He looked so good that she was almost tempted. He was wearing old sweatpants and a soft cashmere sweater he’d had for ages-patrician and hunky at the same time. But Melanie knew there was more to marriage than sexual attraction. And she’d learned the hard way that the other ingredients were missing from this equation.

“Gee, thanks for the offer, but it’s not a good idea,” she said.

“We wouldn’t have to sleep in the same bed.”

“Oh, like that’s an option!” she exclaimed with a laugh.

“Why not? That night I came by to drop Maya-”

“That was a mistake, Steve. Backsliding. It was late. We were lonely.”

His face clouded over. “This is about Musclehead, isn’t it?”

Finished with her makeup, Melanie walked into the bedroom. Steve followed her and laid Maya down carefully in the center of the big bed, placing pillows all around her.

“You mean Dan?” Melanie asked, opening the closet door.

“That guy from the other night.”

“No, not at all. He has nothing to do with it.”

“Wait a minute, is he going on this trip, too? Is this even a work trip?” Steve was asking.

“Of course it’s a work trip! Steve, come on, do you think I would lie to you about that?” she said, turning to him.

He looked down at the floor and then back up at her. He actually looked upset. She felt bad, what with him being so nice about Maya and all.

“I hope not. You wouldn’t, would you?” Steve said.

“Of course not. Listen, the fact of the matter is, I had a huge fight with Dan and we’re not even speaking. It’s going to be totally awkward dealing with him. And there’ll be lots of other people from the team around.”

“Okay. Good. I’m relieved to hear that.”

Melanie found her summer stuff in the back of the closet and picked out a suit with a fairly short skirt. What the hell, she needed a lift. She’d wear it with heels and no hose, freeze on the plane, but show some leg stepping onto the jetway in her ancestral land.

Steve watched her as she got dressed.

“You sure you wanna wear that? If you make Musclehead come after you again, I might have to beat the crap out of him.”

“Will you stop about him?”

“I know, but it’s like I can’t help thinking about it. Seeing him here the other night, I realized how much I hated the idea of you with another guy. Amazing what a little competition’ll do for your perspective, huh?”

She shot him a disgusted look. One thing she could always count on with Steve: Whenever they started getting along, he was sure to go and ruin it.