Frida asks if she and Harriet can have some extra time at the end, since they’re starting late. “You said we’d get an hour.”
“I can’t change my other appointments.”
Frida doesn’t ask again. At the front door, she offers to use her key, but the social worker says no. She rings apartment 3F. Upstairs, the social worker asks Frida to wait in the hall while she speaks with Gust.
Frida checks her phone. They’re eighteen minutes behind schedule. Hopefully Gust has prepped Harriet. It’s not that Mommy doesn’t want to stay longer. It’s not that Mommy didn’t want to bring presents. None of this is up to Mommy. None of this makes sense to Mommy. It probably doesn’t make sense to Harriet either. Mommy is on time-out, Harriet’s been told. The social worker asked Gust to explain the situation in child-friendly terms. It didn’t matter, the social worker said, that Gust and Susanna don’t do time-out. Harriet would get the gist.
Frida presses her ear to the door. She hears the social worker’s shift into child register. Harriet is whimpering. Gust is trying to soothe her.
“There’s nothing to be scared of. It’s only Mommy. Ms. Torres and Mommy.”
Frida doesn’t want their names linked. She shouldn’t have to be here with an escort. When Gust opens the door, the social worker is standing close behind him, already filming.
Gust hugs her.
“How is she?” Frida asks.
“A little clingy. Confused.”
“Gust, I’m so sorry.” She hopes he can’t tell that she’s been recently fucked. She made Will promise not to say anything. There was blood in her underwear last night. She’s still sore.
“Ms. Liu, let’s get started.”
Gust says he’ll be in his office. He gives Frida a chaste kiss on the cheek.
Harriet is hiding under the coffee table. Frida glances back at the social worker. They shouldn’t begin like this. The social worker follows her into the living room, where she kneels next to Harriet’s prone body and gingerly rubs her belly.
“I’m here, bub. Mommy’s here.” Frida’s heart is not in her throat, but in her eyes, her fingertips. Please, she thinks. Please, baby. Harriet peeks her head out and smiles, then rolls into a ball, covering her face with her hands. She won’t budge.
“Mommy, come.” Harriet beckons Frida to join her under the table.
When Frida tugs at her legs, she pulls them away.
“You have thirty-five minutes left, Ms. Liu. Why don’t you two start playing? I need to see you play with her.”
Frida tickles Harriet’s bare feet. Gust and Susanna dress her in such drab colors. Harriet is wearing a gray blouse and brown leggings, like a child of the apocalypse. Soon she’ll buy Harriet new dresses. Stripes and florals. They’ll find a new house. A new neighborhood. No more bad memories.
“One, two, three!” She pulls Harriet by the legs. Harriet shrieks happily.
Frida picks her up. “Let me look at you, bub.”
Harriet smiles, exposing her few chicklet teeth. She pats Frida’s cardigan with her sticky hands. Frida smothers her with kisses. She runs her fingers along Harriet’s eyelashes, lifts Harriet’s blouse and blows raspberries on her stomach, making her cackle. This is the only pleasure that counts. Everything might depend on whether she can touch her child, whether she can see her.
“Mommy missed you so much.”
“No whispering, Ms. Liu.”
The social worker is two feet away. Frida can smell the woman’s vanilla perfume.
“Ms. Liu, please don’t block the child’s face. Why don’t you start playing? Does she have toys here somewhere?”
Frida shelters Harriet with her body. “Please give us a minute. We haven’t seen each other in eleven days. She’s not a seal.”
“No one is comparing her to a seal. You’re the one using that language. I’m telling you, it would be in your best interest to get started.”
Gust and Susanna keep Harriet’s toys in a wooden chest next to the couch. Harriet refuses to walk the few steps to her toy chest. She attaches herself to Frida’s leg, then demands to be carried. With Harriet on her hip, Frida unpacks felt dolls and stuffed animals, wooden blocks with nursery rhymes. She tries to entice Harriet with stacking rings, a carved dinosaur on wheels.
Harriet won’t let Frida put her down. She regards the social worker with fearful eyes, raised eyebrows.
Frida knows this look. She puts Harriet back on the floor. “Bub, I’m sorry. We need to play. Can we play for the nice lady? Please, bub. Please. Let’s play.”