Chapter 23: A Name

By the second week of January, the loft had a high chair, and Eli had stopped pretending the thermostat was his.

Snow came down past the tall windows.

Otto sat in his chair with a spoon in each fist, banging a rhythm on the tray.

"Eh," he said to Eli. "Eh. Eh."

Eli, who was frying eggs, stopped with the spatula in the air.

"Did he just say my name?"

"He said eggs."

"He said Eli."

"He said eggs, Eli."

"Eh-lee," Otto said, very clearly, and pointed his spoon at Eli's chest.

Eli put down the spatula and turned his back to us.

I saw his shoulders move.

"Contractors don't cry," I said.

"Contractors have allergies."

I got up and put my arms around him from behind, my cheek on his shirt.

He put his hand over mine.

"I never asked what you want from me," he said.

"I'll tell you soon."

"How soon?"

"Eat your eggs."

At noon the buzzer rang.

I had told Greer she could come on Sundays for an hour.

She had come every Sunday, early and alone.

She stood in the doorway in a plain coat with a bag of toy blocks.

Her hair had grown out, and she had stopped pinning it.

"Hi," she said.

"Hi."

She did not come in until I stepped back.

She knelt on the rug, and Otto crawled to her and put a block in her lap.

She laughed and then covered her mouth, and her eyes were wet.

I watched them for a while from the counter.