Chip goes to bed early, around eight-thirty or nine; he’s getting more tired than he used to. Before he falls asleep, I sit at the side of the bed and talk to him. Or I read to him—short stories or poetry. He falls asleep to the sound of my voice. It makes for a tenderness in me that I’ve never experienced: He becomes the son I never had mixed with the lover I always wanted. He has not mentioned Diann, other than to once wonder aloud whether he’ll ever see her again. She calls me every day for a report, but, truthfully, we talk more about ourselves than him. She’s terribly busy; being away so long took its toll on her firm. She thinks it will be Christmas before she’s back to normal. She used to try talking to Chip every time she called, but it became frustrating for both of them. “I mean, what am I supposed to say?” Diann asked me. And Chip said, “I really don’t know what she wants to hear.”

This will be my last visit to Grace. I spaced out the time between the last two, to get her used to not having me. When I arrive, I find her wearing a pantsuit, one that’s a little big for her, but flattering nonetheless, a powder blue color that brings out her eyes. She’s going to interview for a part-time job as a receptionist, then look at a group home. She’s also planning on getting her GED in night school. “This was my mom’s,” she tells me, when I compliment her on her outfit. “But she’s too fat for it, now. It really pisses her off. She gave it to me, and that pissed her off, too.”

I bend over the bassinet to look at Kurt. He smiles at me, and my heart breaks in the happy way. He smiles with his whole body, as babies do: hands clenched and waving, feet kicking. I give him a brief exam, but there’s really no reason to. Mother and baby are absolutely fine. “Any problems?” I ask.

“No, he’s good. They told me he could come with me to the interview. I guess he’ll be okay doing that.”

“I’m sure he will. How are you getting there?

“Bus.”

“I’ll tell you what, “I say. “I’ll drive you there.”

“Oh, you don’t have to do that. The bus goes right there.”

“I’d like to take you.”

The company where Grace is interviewing is in an industrial park, a small, nondescript concrete building painted a light green. Some sort of tool-and-die firm. I pull up in front of the place and Grace checks her watch. “Right on time,” she says. And then, turning to me, “Do I look all right?”

“You look beautiful. And very professional.”