Chapter 9 - Jenna Asked Everyone To Stop Helping
Jenna moved out of Hannah and Luke’s house the next morning.
That surprised all of us.
She called me from a small extended-stay hotel near Worcester.
“I need somewhere nobody has feelings about the baby.”
I almost laughed.
“You chose a hotel?”
“Hotels don't have opinions.”
Fair.
She had enough money for a week.
Hannah and Luke offered to pay.
She declined.
Ryan offered.
She declined.
Evelyn offered.
She hung up.
I asked:
“Do you want me to come?”
A pause.
“Yes.”
Important difference.
I drove.
The baby—Jenna had started calling her June—was asleep in the bassinet beside the bed.
“June?”
“Temporary.”
“I like it.”
“That is not a vote.”
I smiled.
“Understood.”
Jenna looked terrible.
Not unsafe.
Not incapable.
Just new-parent tired.
She had arranged for a postpartum doula through an agency recommended months earlier by her adoption counselor.
Someone would arrive that evening.
I watched her organize bottles.
“You had all this planned.”
“Yes.”
“Then why the week with Ryan?”
She didn't answer.
I knew.
Guilt.
Family.
Me.
I sat on the edge of the second bed.
“What do you want now?”
She laughed.
“That's the first question everybody asks when they're trying to be good.”
“Okay.”
I waited.
She looked at me.
“What?”
“I’m not replacing it.”
She smiled slightly.
Then her face fell.
“I don't know.”
I nodded.
“I chose adoption because I don't want to parent.”
Direct.
No tragedy.
“I love her.”
She looked at June.
“I've loved her since I felt her move.”
Her voice cracked.
“I still don't know if I want to build my entire life around being somebody's mother.”
I stayed quiet.
“Does that make me awful?”
“No.”
“You answered fast.”
“Because that one isn't difficult for me anymore.”
She looked at me.
I meant it.
My old sentence embarrassed me now.
She continued.
“Hannah and Luke are good.”
“Yes.”
“I don't know if good is enough.”
“Probably not.”
She almost laughed.
“I could regret placing her.”
“Yes.”
“I could regret parenting.”
“Yes.”
She stared.
“Could you be less helpful?”
“I’m trying.”
June began fussing.
Jenna picked her up.
No mystical transformation.
No answer appeared.
She simply fed her.
Afterward, she said:
“I’m taking five days.”
“To decide?”
“To stop everybody else's countdown.”
The adoption consent appointment was canceled.
Hannah and Luke were told.
They were hurt.
They did not argue.
Ryan was told.
He argued.
Not with Jenna directly.
With me.
He called.
“She’s making decisions exhausted in a hotel.”
“She arranged help.”
“She should be with family.”
“She chose the hotel.”
“Claire.”
“What?”
“Do you really think being alone is better?”
“She is not alone. She has support she selected.”
Ryan went quiet.
Then:
“I want to see her.”
“Ask her.”
“She won't answer me.”
“Then you have your answer today.”
“That isn't fair.”
I almost laughed.
“Ryan, you lied to her about me, called the adoptive parents without permission, and offered our marriage as a permanent home without talking to your wife.”
Silence.
Then:
“I was trying to keep her from making a mistake.”
I closed my eyes.
He still had not let go of that sentence.
“What if the mistake is yours?”
He didn't answer.
Later that afternoon, Jenna got a text from Ryan.
Not pressure.
At least not overtly.
I’m sorry. I won’t contact Hannah or Luke again. I won’t come unless you ask.
She showed me.
“What do you think?”
I almost answered.
Stopped.
She noticed.
“Good save.”
“I’m learning.”
She put down the phone.
Then said:
“I want to ask you something.”
“What?”
“If I decide on adoption after all, will you drive me?”
My chest tightened.
She watched my face.
I thought about Ryan.
Evelyn.
June asleep beside us.
May you like
Then I answered the only question she had actually asked.
“Yes.”
