I still wanted to believe he wouldn’t actually go through with it. But the first time the alarm went off, I froze.
Beep. Beep. Beep.
I still had soap on one arm and shampoo at the roots of my hair. Then the water cut out so suddenly that the pipes thudded in the wall. I stood there, dripping and stunned.
“Time’s up!” Gerald called through the door.
I wrapped myself in a towel, filled a plastic pitcher from the sink, and went back to the tub to rinse with cold water while Maisie cried from her bassinet.
Gerald didn’t apologize. When I came out, he said, “See? You can make it work.”
The first time the alarm went off, I froze.
“Do you hear yourself?”
Gerald glanced at his laptop. “I hear the baby. That’s the issue.”
The second time was worse because I was ready for it. I rushed, skipped washing my hair, barely scrubbed, and watched the numbers count down while my hands shook.
When the beeping started, I lunged for the handle, but Gerald cut the water, anyway. I filled a bucket and finished rinsing in silence.
He passed the doorway, saw me crouched there, and said, “You need to learn to manage your time better.”
I couldn’t answer because I had started adapting, and that scared me more than the timer did.
“I hear the baby. That’s the issue.”
