Maya lay in the bouncy seat by the radiator, her left fist curled against her cheek.

I measured the powder into the bottle, capped it, and shook it until the water went cloudy.

She watched the whole thing with one eye half open.

The mail had come early.

Julian’s child support check sat between a light bill and a grocery flyer, his name printed in the corner like any other vendor’s.

I put the check in a plain envelope and slid it into the diaper bag.

The first photo in the box was of Julian and me outside the courthouse, both of us squinting into the sun.