Page 19 of The Delivery

“If you have what it takes . . .” Sydney stoops down to find Maddy’s eyes with hers. It feels like getting stabbed in the brain. “Then why don’t you show us?”

Maddy wipes at her cheeks roughly, sets her jaw. “How?”

Chapter 14

Sleeping until 11:00 a.m.!

For the first time Rebecca can remember, she feels well rested. She awakens to the susurration of a gentle breeze moving through the Y-shaped pine outside. Bobbing branches and needle patterns wash the closed window shade.

She takes a long, hot shower, taking extra time with the handheld showerhead. She washes her hair, and then blow-dries it for the first time in over a year. She moisturizes her face, lotions her body, clips her nails. When she steps into the hall, the house smells of coffee.

Mr. Man is finishing cleaning out Bao-Bao’s cage. The dishes are put away, the counters spotless, and Maddy’s prescription refill bottle rests on Rebecca’s tiny work desk in the kitchen. Fresh coffee burbles in the pot.

Mr. Man rises, bag of trash in hand. “I purchased some Kenyan beans for you. Your Facebook post from 368 days ago said they were your favorite. I hope they are still. Would you like me to pour you a cup?”

Overcome with gratitude, she nods.

He serves her coffee and then steps outside to dispose of the trash bag.

She sits at the table. It is already set for dinner. She almost cannot believe it.

What is it she plans to do with her one wild and precious day? She cannot remember the last time she went to a movie, read a magazine, a novel. It’s astounding and shameful how busy she always is, given how many resources she has around her, an affluent mother in Brentwood with a single child and no need to hunt and gather, to start fires or raise barn frames, to fight off saber-toothed tigers or roving bands of pirates. The more technology improves, the worse she seems to feel. But maybe this is the turning point.

She closes her eyes, breathes in the fresh-ground Kenyan blend. A tiny sip proves it is as delicious as she remembers from 368 days ago.

Her exhale keeps going, as if she is letting go of months of pressure, which perhaps she is. She takes another sip.

Her phone rings.

Caller ID shows it is Maddy’s emergency cell.

When she taps to answer, Maddy is screaming uncontrollably.

Chapter 15

As Rebecca screeches into a handicap space at the school and flies from the minivan, she can hear Maddy’s cries all the way over in the nurse’s office. She sprints through the corridors, passing open classroom doors, students’ heads swiveling to watch her blaze by.

Having Mr. Man at the house was a godsend—he registered her state with a single look and held the door to the garage open for her, keys resting on his gray palm. On the drive over, she called Mark three times, but despite his promise, he did not pick up.

When she bursts into the nurse’s office, Maddy’s screams intensify; the sight of her mother has made it safe for her to access even greater anguish. Maddy lies on the padded exam table, her short dress pulled up. A bright-red burn mars her left hip, like a raspberry from sliding across gravel. It is already starting to bubble at the edges. There are ice packs wrapped in paper towels and water in a bucket and gauze pads. The principal is there, as well as the yard monitor.

Maddy is hysterical, rocking violently, chewing the collar of her dress, flapping her hands. Rebecca steps past the agitated nurse, and Maddy clutches at her. Rebecca presses Maddy’s ear to her chest and breathes deep and slow, mirroring the respiration Maddy needs to slow herself down.

It is a process.

Maddy migrates from screaming to inconsolable sobbing. “Daddy! I want Daddy!”

Rebecca rocks her, dialing and dialing again. All the while her phone hasn’t stopped dinging—dentist confirmation for next week, her long-suffering mother, the supermom kiss-and-ride scheduler, and it looks like she missed the fucking solar repair guy again.

Amid all this, she manages to piece together what happened from the nurse, the yard monitor, and the principal. Evidently Sydney and her crew bullied Maddy into going down the slide like a big girl, knowing the metal was hot enough to burn.

Rebecca is livid.

She breathes steadily, still cupping Maddy’s cheek against her chest, one hand flat against Maddy’s other ear to diminish audio stimulation. Maddy murmurs, “Daddy, want Daddy,” over and over again, Rebecca’s heart disintegrating with each wail.

Principal de La Rosa is equal parts empathetic and apprehensive. “The metal equipment is supposed to be off limits on days with temperatures over ninety degrees,” she says, shooting a look of admonishment at the yard monitor. “We’ve had it agenda-ed for two quarters to swap the slide out for plastic, but you know how funding is right now with LA Unified. We’re making do until Parent Givefest next month. We really can’t afford any . . . additional expenses.”

Maddy is still snuffling against Rebecca’s chest.