“I found our baby,” she said. “There was no time this morning—I had to go straight to her house in New Jersey. She left me a message. Then I lost my cell phone; I left it in the car.”

My breath felt restricted, as if I were hiking at a high altitude. Now that Amelia had found a birth mother, I would have difficulty reversing her course.

I stood up. “Tell us, Amelia.” I did my best to smile.

Amelia took in my presence, but didn’t appear bothered by it. I might as well have been their dog. For an instant I recognized the modicum of space I occupied in her mind, but my love for her was not diminished. If anything, I wanted her affection even more.

“Fritz, this girl, Lucia”—Amelia looked directly at Fritz, her voice at a higher pitch than normal—“she’s a girl, she’s nineteen, but not an idiot. She’s Catholic and Latinx. She knows she’s not in a position to raise the baby. She gets it. No money, no resources, no husband. And so someone else should.” It was as if Amelia and Fritz were the only two people in the room now. She wasn’t aware that she was sharing the information with me or not sharing it. “Different cultures have different priorities, and it’s not for us to judge. They leave their children in their country and come here to work and send money each week. Or the grandparents raise them. It’s quite practical, really. And it’s smart. She’s smart. And she’s very pretty. White teeth. Clear skin. Glossy hair. And she’s slender. I mean, she’s pregnant, but her hips are slim.” She motioned in the air with her hands to outline the contours of the girl’s slim hips. “It’s not good for a pregnant woman to be fat, because then the baby will be too. I said yes to the baby.”

I felt as though all the oxygen were leaving the room. This was so wrong. It was all wrong. I needed to convince Amelia that she was making a mistake.

Fritz’s lips were white and his face had developed a grayish hue. His anger was simmering. He leaned against the sliding glass door and fixed his gaze on the exterior landscape.