by Ren Richards
It was always the women who drew this sort of curiosity, to the point of obsession. Men were murdered too, of course; in fact, more men were killed than women. But only the women and girls moved papers and generated ad revenue online. And female murderers garnered just as much attention. The only difference was that the latter generated more outrage.
Oleg’s response was the sort of thing Nell had read in YouTube tribute videos and on findagrave. com.
Oleg caught her pensive expression. ‘It sounds like you were hoping for something specific,’ he said. ‘Maybe if you tell me, I can help.’
‘Easter didn’t have anything kind to say about Autumn,’ Nell said. ‘It sounded like she was trying to paint her as a psychopath.’
One thing Oleg did have in common with Easter was that he could hide what he was thinking. He looked out the window, where cars were gridlocked in afternoon traffic. Nell’s car was parallel parked between two fuel-efficient hybrids. She’d offered the car to Lindsay that morning, to which Lindsay said ‘ew’ and hounded her insurance agency for a rental.
‘Nobody is entirely one thing.’ Oleg turned to look at her. ‘Would you agree with that?’
‘Sure I would.’
‘Love isn’t an easy thing,’ he said. ‘We think it’s natural to love, but it’s a learned behaviour. Nobody loved Iskra and Klavdiya.’ He used his sisters’ birth names now. ‘They came out sickly. The doctor told my parents that the twins were going to die. He said it would be best to give them to an orphanage. Maybe someone with money would adopt them. My parents kept the girls for as long as they could, but my sisters grew up knowing they were a burden.’
Oleg didn’t speak on his own behalf, and Nell wondered what abuse he also endured at the hands of his parents. A part of her wanted to ask him. More than that – she wanted to reach across the table and touch his hand to offer comfort. The foster system in which she had grown up was surely different than the orphanages in Russia, but at the heart of both worlds was the deep-rooted feeling of being unwanted. Nell knew something about that, at least. Bonnie had never tried to parent her from behind bars; she said things like ‘do your homework, don’t grow up to be stupid’ on a recorded line, and Nell never knew who might be listening in. Her father hadn’t tried to regain custody; he didn’t even call unless it was Christmas or he was in an emotional drunken stupor, and sometimes not even then.
Maybe things would have turned out differently for her and Lindsay if they’d been wanted.
She resisted her impulse to reach out. But she couldn’t help saying, ‘It must have been difficult for you to watch them leave you behind.’
Something changed in Oleg’s eyes. His usual tranquillity was betrayed by a sudden, stabbing coldness, and Nell could see him as a little boy watching the airplane flying overhead. She could see him left destitute, bereft and loveless as his only allies were swept away.
In a blink it was gone.
‘I was happy for my sisters. I believed they would be better off somewhere else,’ Oleg said. ‘Autumn was like – how do I put it? She was like a drawing, and underneath that drawing you could see the erased pencil lines from who she was supposed to be. She played a part because she wanted it to be real.’
Playing a part, Nell understood.
‘But was she a psychopath? No,’ Oleg went on. ‘She was just trying to be normal. She always covered up her surgery scars. If someone saw them, she would lie about where they were from.’
‘What would she say?’ Nell asked.
‘That depended on the person. If it was a man she liked, she would say she fell while climbing rocks. Something like that; it made her sound interesting. To someone else, she would make up a childhood injury.’ He nodded to the pad jutting out from Nell’s purse. ‘Aren’t you going to take notes?’
‘It’s easier for me to remember things if I don’t stop to write them down.’
He raised his drink to her in a salute. ‘You’re a strange one. I suppose that’s why you’re good at what you do.’
Nell laughed. It surprised her how much Oleg, practically a stranger, was able to put her at ease. She wanted to make the interview last, because she knew that once it was over, she would be going back to her apartment. Back to checking her phone in case Lindsay called. Lindsay had told Nell her schedule: hot yoga at ten, lunch at twelve with a friend from spin class she would otherwise avoid, then a quick trip to the bodega for something without artificial dyes and flavourings, because she swore all the food in Nell’s fridge was poison.
‘What about your parents?’ Nell asked Oleg. ‘Do they come to visit Easter? What do they make of all this?’
‘They’re dead,’ Oleg said, unsentimental.
Nell wanted to tell him that she was sorry for his loss, but something about his demeanour said that wasn’t necessary. He didn’t like to dwell. She let him continue.
‘My mother and father were unhappy when I first connected with the twins. My mother especially. They wanted it to be as though the twins had never been born.’
Oleg told her about their reunion at the airport, how Easter was in charge of decorating their tiny apartment and preferred never to leave. He had a lot to say, for which Nell was grateful. The men she interviewed usually didn’t want to talk; it hadn’t surprised her to hear that Mr Hamblin disapproved of the interview. It was the wives and sisters and mothers who wrote little stories in their heads each day, turning them over until they were polished and beautiful. They could begin mid-sentence, out of nowhere, but they were well-tended.
Oleg proved that men could be this way too. In his stories, Easter wasn’t a murderer and Autumn was still alive; Nell could almost believe that both sisters were still at their apartment, arguing over the TV being too loud or whose turn it was to take out the trash. Autumn had been nearly deaf in her left ear after a childhood bout of swimmer’s ear. She had suffered in silence, covering the inflamed ear with her hair, afraid that her adoptive parents would abandon her for being a burden, the way her birth parents had. By the time anyone noticed, it was too late to repair all of the damage.
‘What about Easter?’ Nell asked.
Oleg blinked. ‘What about her?’
‘Swimmer’s ear is very painful. She must have noticed something was up, especially when Autumn started wearing her hair differently.’
‘I don’t know about that,’ Oleg said. ‘I wanted to understand my sisters. Their adoptive parents paid for me to fly out and visit them every Christmas and summer, and as their older brother, I wanted to be their mentor. Their protector. But I had to accept that I’ll never know what sort of bond they had. I don’t think anyone can.’
He’s right about that, Nell thought. She didn’t need to understand the Hamblin sisters in order to tell their story. She only needed to report the facts, and leave the readers to draw their own conclusions. But she would humanise Easter even after Easter had murdered her own sister, and there was the true challenge.
Oleg drew his phone from his pocket and checked the time. ‘I have to go,’ he said. He didn’t offer an explanation. He downed the last of his drink and said, ‘You’ll be in touch when you need more, yes?’
‘This should last me a while. Thank you.’
‘Thank you.’ He emphasised the last word.
He moved to stand, but then paused. ‘You said that you thought you’d scared Mom Esther off. What happened?’
‘She told me she’d found a dead rabbit in the garden. I – don’t think she meant to tell me, but it just slipped out.’
Oleg settled back in his seat. ‘Oh.’
Nell looked at him expectantly but she said nothing.
‘There are quite a few stories like that. One would blame the other.’
‘You’re their brother,’ Nell said. ‘Who did you believe?’
Oleg took a deep breath, and she could see that this was painful for him. Losing a sister was already an impossible grief, but perhaps knowing your sister was a monster was just as terrible.
> ‘The girls didn’t have an easy life in Russia,’ he finally said. ‘When they came to America they had a perfect life, but it came too late. My parents resented them. There was no love in our house, and Easter was desperate for it. Like a kicked dog. Even as a baby, she learned that there was no use crying, so all of that desperation built up in her. It swelled up and burst, like a boil.’
Nell understood what it was like to grow up without much comfort. If she subtracted Lindsay from the equation, she could imagine Easter’s desperation perfectly.
‘There was a little boy in their school who nearly lost his eye when one of the twins threw a rock at him. Even he wouldn’t say which one of them it was.’
‘But you have your suspicions,’ Nell ventured.
‘All I have are guesses,’ Oleg said. ‘But he wasn’t the only kid with a similar story. Like I said, they handled things in their own way. But here’s what I do know: Autumn thrived in this country. She was loved by everyone she met. Easter lived in the shadows.’
Nell tried to imagine Easter holding a rock over a fledgling baby bird. Her blood went cold.
Once she was back in her car, Nell took out her phone. Three texts from Sebastian:
Just checking in
Love you
Are you working?
She typed out a reply: Heading home. Love you too. Then a text to Lindsay: Confirm you’re alive please.
The harsh November wind shook the car. Cold stole in through the seam in the window, and Nell could see her breath. Weather like this always left her feeling tumultuous. The chill wasn’t a problem, but sometimes she couldn’t help shivering.
This was one thing she and Reina had had in common. Reina never seemed bothered by the cold. When she pulled her escape stunts – scaling from first-storey windows or creeping out through back doors – she never took a coat. Sometimes she would be missing for hours and they’d find her hiding under the porch, peeking out at them through the wood slats, or standing behind a tree, or on the floor in the back seat of a parked car. Even on days so cold you could see your breath, even when she was shivering and chattering her teeth, she never seemed to mind.
Reina. When Nell first blurted out that name in the delivery room, she didn’t know that it would haunt her for the rest of her life.
12
THEN
The Eddletons turned Reina’s first birthday into an affair. Their manicured lawn was obscured by tables of catered food, and a bouncy castle jostled with the rambunctious flips and spins of children from the country club.
It seemed like a waste to Nell. The baby was only one. She wasn’t going to remember any of this. More ridiculous still were the gifts accumulating by Mrs Eddleton’s prize rose bushes, Reina beside the mound of bright wrappings, staring at the display as though it were a pile of horse droppings.
‘Hey, Demon.’ Lindsay knelt beside her, her white heels sinking into the grass. ‘I hear you’ve become an expert on blowing kisses. Do I get one? Especially seeing as that big box with the sparkly bow is from me?’
The baby tore up a fistful of grass.
‘Do you want to open your present? It cost a million dollars.’
The baby glanced at Lindsay and then returned to tearing the grass.
‘Mrs Eddleton says she’s blowing kisses, but I’ve yet to see it,’ Nell said. She slept most nights in the guest bedroom adjacent to the nursery in the Eddletons’ house. She had hoped that being the one to take care of the baby in the mornings and put her down at night would turn her into something that resembled a mother.
‘I think Mrs E is making it up,’ Lindsay agreed. ‘So she doesn’t have to explain to her snobby friends that her grandchild is – well, look at her.’
Nell bristled. She wanted to say that nothing was wrong with the baby, but Lindsay would see that she was lying. For the first six months, Reina had done nothing but cry, until her skin was so red and hot that Nell thought she was running a fever.
And then, one day, miraculously, the crying stopped. Nell would find the baby in her crib each morning, staring at the ceiling. But staring was all she did. She did not care for Mrs Eddleton’s incessant coddling or the musical stuffed toys Mr Eddleton gave her. She didn’t bounce in her swing or hold on when she was scooped up from her crib.
‘Mrs Eddleton says this is normal,’ Nell said. ‘She says this is how babies act.’
‘It’s not how you acted,’ Lindsay said. ‘You were annoying as hell, but at least you smiled once in a while.’
‘There she is,’ Mrs Eddleton sang. She had a way of emerging from nowhere, her arms outstretched. ‘There’s my Rainy-Day. Do you like your party?’
The baby deflated with a sigh.
‘I think someone has a full diaper,’ Mrs Eddleton said, and tapped the baby on the nose.
‘I’ll take her,’ Nell said, mustering the beaming, toothy smile the Eddletons had come to expect from her. At least then on the surface she could look like she belonged.
‘Would you?’ Mrs Eddleton said. ‘I’ve got to check in with the caterers.’
Reina was heavy when Nell took her; she sat against her hip unceremoniously. The stench from her diaper was overwhelming. This was a challenge ever since Reina had stopped crying – she would sit in her own filth until someone discovered it. She’d already suffered from diaper rash so many times that Nell had lost count – just more tallies in her shortcomings as a mother.
Lindsay followed her into the house. Though she knew how to dress like these socialites, she hated everything about them. ‘I don’t know how you can stand to sleep here,’ she muttered as they ascended the grand staircase that led to the nursery. ‘I will never have a rich boyfriend, mark my words.’
‘Ethan isn’t my boyfriend,’ Nell said.
‘Uh huh. I hope you’re remembering to take the pill while you’re having sex with your not-boy-friend, Ms Capulet. And that he’s remembering to bag it. Can’t be too careful.’
‘Would you shut up?’ Though it was true that Ethan and Nell had been together as recently as that morning, there was no word for what it was, or what they were to each other. Much like their baby’s silence, there was something to it that couldn’t be pinned down. There was an inherent desperation. Each touch a signal of light spread out across the ocean during a deadly storm in search for survivors. Each kiss a confirmation of breath. They were trying to keep each other afloat, or else drown the other so they wouldn’t have to sink alone.
Just as they reached the top step, the baby rested against Nell’s shoulder. Her soft, dark, baby-bird hair brushed her neck, and Nell could feel the full weight of her head. There was something foreign about this small gesture of affection; Nell had never witnessed it before. At last, in being held, the baby understood who her mother was, and that they were meant to love each other.
In that moment, Nell hated herself for the thousand spiteful thoughts she’d had about her own daughter. The baby was only a baby still. It wasn’t her fault if she was difficult. She didn’t mean to be cruel.
Nell stroked the baby’s forehead, melting.
Lindsay hesitated. ‘What’s wrong with her?’
‘She’s just being sweet,’ Nell said, pretending this was normal behaviour, indulging in such a beautiful idea.
‘No. Nell, her cheeks are swollen.’
The flimsy moment of indulgence was gone as quickly as it had arrived. Nell drew back and saw what Lindsay saw. The baby’s eyes were sleepy and glazed. Her face had started to swell. Her breathing had taken on a feeble rattle. Frantic, Nell saw the swelling in the left arm, the fingers bloated and stiff.
The rosebush by the presents had been buzzing with bees.
She was down the stairs and through the door before she knew she had moved. The sun was blinding, suddenly, and the line of shining cars parked along the cul-de-sac registered as a colourful blur.
‘Here.’ Lindsay was beside her, and she steered Nell towards her car. It was the only one here with a dull finish and a passe
nger-side mirror that was held in place by black electrical tape.
‘The car seat is in Ethan’s car.’ Nell’s voice floated away from her as she spoke.
‘The hospital is only a few blocks. Just hold her.’
Nell’s eyes were filling with tears. ‘I need to get Mrs Eddleton. I won’t know what to do, I—’
‘There isn’t time, Nell, pull your shit together.’ Lindsay opened the passenger door and pushed her into the seat.
Lindsay started the car, and the radio came on with it, full blast. The burst of sound prompted no reaction from the baby, whose close proximity felt nothing like affection and everything like exhaustion, now that Nell was really paying attention.
‘Reina?’ Nell cupped the baby’s chin in her hand. ‘Does it hurt? Can you show me where the nasty bee stung you?’
The baby’s chest heaved with laboured breaths, but her eyes were calm even as they began to dull. She was staring at Nell. Observing her, Nell thought. She found Nell’s panic interesting.
Lindsay drove recklessly and without fear, and pulled to a screeching stop in an ambulance zone. ‘Go,’ she told Nell. ‘I’ll park and then I’ll come find you inside.’
It had been a year since Nell was in a hospital holding her baby. That year felt like a lifetime. Everything had changed. But to the nurses she was still a bumbling teenage mother who was entirely to blame for whatever situation she and her baby were in.
Someone took Reina away from her, without kindness or explanation, leaving her to sit in a crowded waiting room.
By the time Lindsay found her, Nell was hugging her own stomach and sobbing.
‘Oh, Nell.’ Lindsay dropped into the chair beside her and pulled her into her arms. ‘It’s going to be okay. Things like this happen all the time.’
The rarity of such a sincere comfort, untainted by Lindsay’s usual sarcasm, only made her cry that much harder. Because Nell knew the truth. She would have given anything to be frightened about the bee sting, but she wasn’t. There was no shot that could be given to the baby, no remedy that would fix her. The baby was broken in some other way, and Nell was tired, so tired, of pretending she wasn’t.