“Yeah. But this is what I was wondering. I know it might be unfair for me to keep him, okay? But now that I’ve had him, how can I go back to not having him? I know this kid at my school, she had a baby girl when she was fourteen, and she gave her up. But she didn’t want to. And she’s allowed to see her and everything, but all it does is tear her up. See, what I think is, you can’t really give a baby away that grew inside you. It doesn’t work. He’s just always there anyway. Part of you. You might as well have him in your house if he’s taking up so much room in your insides.”

I smile, touch her hand.

“Anyways. My mom says I have to decide by tomorrow.”

“So … you’ll let me know?”

She walks over to her window, looks down onto the street. “Sure. I’ll call you. ’Cause if I let him go, you won’t need to come see me every week.”

The truth is, I’m only authorized for two more visits, anyway. She must have forgotten that. But there’s no need to bring it up now.

I pick up my bag. “I’ll respect whatever decision you make, Grace. But I just want you to know that you’ve done everything right, and you don’t have a thing in the world to be ashamed of.”

She won’t look at me, but she nods.

On my way out, I see Grace’s mother, Millie, sitting in the sun parlor reading a magazine and smoking a cigarette. She’s a cashier at Stop and Shop; it must be her day off. I wave, and she nods curtly. She doesn’t like me, has never seen the need for me “coming around.” She pushes herself out of her chair, comes over to the door to stand beside me. “She tell you what we talked about?’

“Yes.”

“I don’t know what sense it makes for her to keep him.”

“It’s a hard decision.”

“Yeah. One that she has no business making.” Millie takes in a drag, exhales only slightly away from my face. One arm is crossed over her stomach, the other holds the cigarette up high. I see that she has lost one of her acrylic nails. She’s wearing a pair of black shorts, a white shirt knotted at her waist, blue plastic bedroom slippers. Her hair, red this week, is up in a high ponytail. “She can barely decide what she wants for dinner, for Christ’s sake.”

“I don’t know, I think Grace has grown up a whole lot in the last few weeks.”

“You have kids?” Millie asks.

“No, I don’t.”

“Yeah, I didn’t think so.” She looks me up and down. “You even married?”

“I’m not.”