49.

Daniel cast his wide-set, hazel eyes on the woven leather bag that I’d filched from Mom a while ago.

“Tell me, sweet Thea,” he said, flicking his hair. “Why do American girls carry such big bags? Where I’m from, girls don’t try to carry the world around with them like you do. What do you have in there?”

My phone rang before I could answer him. It was Mrs. Weston.

She’d called the house and gotten my number from Monica.

“I hope I’m not bothering you.” Her voice sounded higher-pitched and more whispery than I’d remembered.

“You’re not at all,” I said. “How are you?”

“I’m well, thanks,” she said, sounding nervous. “I’m having some trouble with my mom, but aside from that.”

“Oh no,” I said.

“She’s just had a hard time, you know, losing my brother. She’s not herself. She’s suddenly afraid to go outdoors, afraid her freckles will burn, she’s sort of spiraling.”

“I’m sorry,” I said.

“Yes, well, she’s in Calabasas, in California, so hard to manage from afar.” She cleared her throat. “Thea, I don’t want to keep you. I’m sorry this is so hard for Will. I’m sorry that you probably feel let down.”

“Yeah, well.” I could barely get the words out.

“Well, I’m glad you’re moving forward. You’ve found a job, that’s wonderful.”

“Yeah,” I said, “Dad’s idea.”

“In any event, Thea, we still want to help you in any way we can with Ian. That still holds true, needless to say.”

“Thanks,” I said, wondering what Will had told them. Had he just said we’d broken up? Had he told them he wanted to give Ian up? “Would you like to spend some time with him? He’s with the nanny while I’m here, at work. You can see him anytime you like.”

“I’d like that. I have her number now. I’ll call her to set up some dates, if that’s all right with you.”

“That would be great,” I said, hoping that spending time with Ian would effectively wipe out any talk of adoption.

“Is he eating solid food yet?”

“He is,” I said authoritatively. “He loves to eat.”

“I want to bake him something yummy,” she said. “Something with mushy apples.”

“I’m sure he’d love whatever you make,” I said.

There was an awkward pause as I couldn’t think of anything else to say, but then Mrs. Weston responded, her voice somber and serious. “You’re going to make this work for you, Thea,” she said. “I can tell you are already. You’re a strong person. I admire you.”

“Thank you,” I mumbled, not sure what to make of her attempt at a pep talk, another version of her famous “Be positive,” wondering why she had ever scared and intimidated me so much. Was it just because I was so desperately in love with her son? Did he have that much power over me that he could transfer it to other people? The idea that I could have forged some kind of relationship with her if Will hadn’t busted everything up hurled me into a black hole.

I hung up. Daniel was zoning into his computer screen. I was enjoying a harmless flirty thing with him to pass the time and didn’t want him to hear. There was an empty, closet-sized room down the hall with a phone in it that no one ever used. I went to the room and dialed Will’s cell phone. He’d see the number and not know it was me and pick up. It was three o’clock on a Thursday and his last class ended at one-forty. It had been over a month since we’d spoken.

“I haven’t heard from you,” I said when I heard his voice.

“I know,” he said. He sounded totally caught off guard. “How’s Ian?”

“Ian’s fine,” I said. “But why do you even get to know that?”

Silence.

“What’s going on?” I asked.

“I’m sorry.”

“Sorry for what?” I was scared of what he was going to say.

“Just sorry.”

I held my breath. “You know I’m not giving him up, right? I’m never giving him up.”

“I know.” He sighed.

I ran my fingers over the back of the linty-wool chair, relief washing over me in the dark room. Outside the glass door, a man with red hair deposited a large plate of black-and-white cookies on top of a file cabinet. He glanced at me disapprovingly and turned back down the hallway.

“So you’re going to leave it alone, the adoption thing,” I said.

“I don’t have a choice, do I?” There was resentment bordering on nastiness coming out of him. I wanted to take those cookies, break each of them at the exact mark where black met white, hurl them at the ceiling and shatter all of the hot dog–shaped fluorescent lights onto everyone. I was working so hard and I was doing a good job.

“You know what, Will? I’m a good mother,” I said. “The fact that I even have to say it, to justify myself to you, it makes me sick. You make me sick, Will. You make me sick.”

My throat felt jammed. I slammed the phone down and banged the desk like a two-year-old, stinging my hand. After I got it together, I went out and made my twelfth green tea of the day and brought one to Daniel.

“I’m so bored,” he said, leaning so far back in his chair he was almost lying down.

“It’s boring here,” I said, my voice hollow. “You’ll get no argument from me.”

“Good, because I couldn’t bear to have you cross with me.” He slumped and wriggled, one pod of a headset in his ear, the other traversing his flat, almost concave, chest. “You look blue. Come to the supply closet and I’ll cheer you up.” He looked up at me and winked. “It locks.”

“I thought you were gay,” I said.

“Now, that’s a cheap shot, Thea.” He blew into his tea. “Surely you can do better than that.”

I glanced at the door and looked at my watch. 4:20. I’m going to do something stupid, I told myself. I’m going to do something stupid. “You’re sure?” I asked as I followed him, feeling achy and already full of unruly remorse.

He turned a metal lock near the floor. “Alone at last,” he said as he backed me into a corner shelf, kissing me so hard I could feel his teeth behind his lips.

“You kiss like a dog,” I said.

“I do?” he asked. “Well, you have a lovely mouth. Your lips are so smooth and thin and pained. Such a slant to those pained lips.” We crammed ourselves down onto the minuscule floor space, and I thought about something Will said once, how I always kept my eyes open.

“Do you have …” I asked, half hoping he didn’t.

“As luck would have it.” He smiled, reached into his trouser pocket and pulled out a condom.

A poster of a smiling Asian girl with doughnuts flying around her head stared back at me from the wall. I was imagining how great it would be if Will could just be brave, like me, and throw doubt to the wind in the name of love, as Daniel tore the edge of the condom wrapper with his teeth. The closet was black with my disappointment. Daniel moved around on top of me, his black hair hanging down, kissing my cheeks and forehead.

“Forget it,” I said, wrestling out from under him and standing up. “I can’t do this, sorry.”

“You’re joking,” he said, still on the floor.

“I’m not,” I said. “Sorry.” I opened the door. It felt like we’d been in there forever, but when I got to the table stacked with marketing packets, the clock said 4:35. Daniel appeared and immediately got on the phone, ignoring me, and when it was time to go, I grabbed my bag and my coat and left without looking at him.

Someone shoved the revolving door downstairs, speeding it up and ejecting me onto the granite-flecked sidewalk. I turned the corner and passed a hot dog vendor, who smiled at me from under his baseball cap. I looked down at the black garbage bag hanging off his cart. I hadn’t done it. That was good. But I wondered if it was possible to feel any emptier.