Chapter 6 - The Morning After
The next morning, my son woke before the sun and announced that the robot could not wait.
"Mom," Noah whispered loudly into my ear, which was his idea of mercy. "The silver screw might be his heart."
I opened one eye.
My cheek pulsed.
My ribs ached.
My ankle throbbed.
My body felt like the night had folded me badly and left creases in all the wrong places.
Noah stood beside the couch in dinosaur pajamas, holding the thrift-store robot with both hands. His dark hair stuck up on one side. His face was still soft from sleep.
Five years old.
The only reason I kept standing.
"Robots have hearts now?" I asked.
"This one does."
"Then we better be careful."
Ruth appeared from the kitchen with coffee and the expression she wore whenever she was trying not to cry.
"Let your mother sit up first."
"She can fix it sitting."
"Your mother can also say no."
Noah considered this as if the concept were legally interesting.
"Can you fix it after breakfast?"
I touched his cheek.
"Yes."
He smiled like I had handed him the moon.
That was children. They made ordinary promises sacred.
While Noah ate cereal at the kitchen table, Ruth examined my face with a bag of frozen peas pressed gently against my cheek.
"I should have come for you."
"You didn't know."
"I knew something was wrong when you sent no goodnight text."
"Ruth."
"Don't Ruth me. I am elderly enough to be unreasonable."
"You're fifty-nine."
"Ancient."
I smiled despite the pain.
Ruth had been my mother-in-law for seven years, but after Ethan left, she became something harder to name and easier to trust. She had seen the way her son spoke to me. She had seen the way I learned to laugh quietly and eat less in front of him and pull shirts down over scars that were not ugly until he taught me they were.
When I finally left, Ruth opened her door.
Ethan called her betrayal dramatic.
Ruth called it parenting.
My phone buzzed on the counter.
Unknown number again.
I knew before I opened it.
Jack:
Detective Alvarez will call today. You can request my attorney arrange protection for your statement. You do not have to speak to anyone alone.
Then, a second message:
I will not send men to your door unless you ask.
Ruth read over my shoulder because boundaries were something she practiced selectively.
"Better," she said.
"Than what?"
"Than sending men to your door."
"The bar is low."
"Many men trip over low bars."
Noah looked up from his cereal.
"What bar?"
"A grown-up bar," Ruth said.
"Can robots go?"
"Not that kind."
My phone rang.
Detective Alvarez.
He asked if I could come to the station at noon.
Ruth took the phone from my hand.
"She was assaulted last night after preventing a murder. You can send someone here or wait until tomorrow."
Silence.
Then she handed the phone back.
Detective Alvarez said, much more politely, "Tomorrow is fine."
After breakfast, I fixed the robot.
The screw did not fit.
Noah's face fell.
Then I found the real missing piece lodged inside the robot's plastic shoulder: a bent metal pin no larger than a grain of rice.
"See?" Noah said, instantly restored. "It had the right piece inside already."
My hands stilled.
Sometimes children said things the universe should have been too ashamed to put in their mouths.
"Maybe it did," I whispered.
By 10:00, the Maragold Room called.
Not Victor.
The owner, Mr. Bellanca.
He used a careful voice, the kind people use when lawyers have told them kindness may be cheaper than negligence.
"Lily, given last night's incident, we think it would be best for you to take some time."
"Am I fired?"
"No one said fired."
"Are you paying me?"
Silence.
"We will process your final hours."
"So I am fired."
"The restaurant is under review. This is not personal."
That almost made me laugh.
For three months, the restaurant had made my body, my lateness, my shoes, my face, my invisibility personal. Now that I had saved their private room from becoming a murder scene, it was business.
"Send my final pay by Friday," I said.
"Of course."
"And my tips."
Another silence.
"We will review records."
"Review them carefully."
I hung up.
My hands shook afterward.
Ruth looked at me.
"Proud of you."
"I need a job."
"Still proud."
At noon, a black car stopped across the street.
My stomach dropped.
Ruth moved to the window.
"Relax. Only one terrifying man."
Rocco stepped out, holding a paper bag and standing on the sidewalk as if approaching the building without permission might cause him physical pain.
My phone buzzed.
Jack:
Rocco has your final check, cash equivalent for lost tips based on three months' average, and replacement shoes. He will leave if you prefer.
I stared at the message.
Then at Rocco.
Ruth said, "Replacement shoes?"
"Apparently."
"That is either thoughtful or alarming."
"Both."
Rocco did not knock.
He waited.
The choice was mine.
That was the part that got me.
I opened the door downstairs.
Rocco held out the bag.
"Miss Bennett."
"Did you threaten Mr. Bellanca?"
"No."
I raised an eyebrow.
Rocco corrected, "Not personally."
"That's not better."
"It was explained to him that wage theft after witness cooperation creates complications."
"By who?"
"People with punctuation in their job titles."
I did not know what that meant.
I took the bag.
"Thank you."
He nodded.
"Mr. Moretti also asked me to say he does not consider this repayment."
"What does he consider it?"
"Overdue."
Then Rocco returned to the car and left.
Inside the bag were my final wages, more tip money than the Maragold would ever have voluntarily given me, and a pair of sturdy black work shoes in my size.
My exact size.
Ruth whistled.
"Definitely alarming."
I touched the shoes.
May you like
For some reason, I thought of Jack looking at my hands and saying steady.
"Yes," I said. "But maybe not cruel."
