Free Devotion by Maile Meloy Page A

WAS a straightforward transaction. Escrow closed quickly, and she took possession right away. She bought two beds—an optimistically big one and a small one—and the mattress company delivered. There were no bookshelves in the house, but her father would help her build some. She drove her few boxes there by herself and was happy to be unpacking, making the beds, imagining her new life. Hattie would play in this yard and learn to climb the sycamore. Eleanor would get a swing set for the yard and hide Easter eggs in the spring, like her parents had done for her. She might even meet someone now, if she wasn’t living at home.
    She was bringing in another box, thinking about what that someone might be like, when she saw an enormous rat staring at her from the front lawn. It gazed at her as if she were the intruder.
    â€œNo,” she said. But still the rat stared.
    She took a threatening step forward, and it darted away.
    She carried the box up the walk, haunted by the appraising way the rat had looked at her, and saw another toast-colored blur disappear along the side of the house. She called her father at work.
    â€œThere are rats here,” she said.
    â€œThere are rats everywhere,” her father said. “They live in the ivy.”
    â€œNo, these are serious,” Eleanor said. “They’re
huge
.”
    â€œHow huge?”
    â€œLike small Chihuahuas.”
    â€œOh.” There was a pause. “Where are they?”
    â€œOne was on the lawn, and one running along the foundation.”
    â€œShould I come over?”
    â€œNot yet,” she said. “I don’t want you to see it like this.” She heard a small, patient sigh.
    â€œThen call an exterminator,” he said. “And stay with us tonight.”
    â€œI can’t do that. It’s admitting defeat.”
    â€œDefeat to whom?” he asked. “To your mother? Don’t be a hero, Ellie.”
    â€œDo rats carry disease?” she asked.
    â€œI think what they carry is fleas, and fleas carry disease.”
    â€œOh, God,” she said.
    â€œEllie,” he said. “Call a professional and come home.”
    She hung up and searched for exterminators on her phone, and called one who could come the next morning. She tried not to think about how thrilled her mother would be to have her back.
    Outside the school, she watched the other mothers: the tall, thin, grown-up, married mothers, with the diamonds on their fingers and the tiny pleated workout skirts. One wore a pink silk shirt printed with riding tack, without irony. They didn’t have rats at home. Or fleas.
    That night, her mother beamed with triumph over take-out pizza at the kitchen table. She said, “You know you can stay here as long as you like.”
    â€œIt will be good to have our own place,” Eleanor said.
    â€œI don’t see why,” her mother said. “If it’s I-N-F-E-S-T-E-D.”
    â€œWhat does that spell?” Hattie asked. She was already starting to read.
    â€œShe means the house is an investment,” Eleanor said. “A good thing to spend money on.”
    Hattie pushed a crust across her plate.
“Infestment,”
she said.
    â€œIf I’d known you were coming home,” her mother said, “I could’ve cooked something special.”
    â€œIt’s not a special occasion, Mom. It’s a temporary setback.”
    â€œIt’s
always
a special occasion,” her mother said, tweaking Hattie’s nose.

I N THE MORNING, in Eleanor’s childhood bedroom, a battle raged. Hattie had two shirts that she was willing to wear, one red and one green. The green one was in a box at the new house. The red one was crusted with food and dirt from the day before. Hattie needed the shirts in order to be Manuel, a boy she worshipped at school. She didn’t want to be
like
Manuel, or even to be
liked
by Manuel. She wanted to
be
Manuel.
    It was understandable. Manuel was