Housewarming

by Jennifer Bowen

  Peering over here, Kara saw her eyes were closed. Lilah whimpered again, but cut off mid-cry. Kara’s eyes drifted downward: the clay girl and frog grinned at her. Repulsion creeping over her, Kara dropped the end of the blanket over it. She started to turn away, but Lilah giggled, stopping her.

  Lilah was pranking her.

  Smiling, Kara pulled back the covers. “Hey…” She stopped halfway, her smile falling.

  Lilah was still asleep.

  The statue was uncovered again, two faces grinning at Kara. She covered it again, hating it. As she backed away, the giggling erupted again, making the hairs on the back of her neck stand. She froze, staring at Lilah’s back as it pulsated. The giggle drew on for a long moment until finally it trailed to a sigh, ceasing.

  Kara watched for several seconds, silence settling in the room, until the snoring returned. “Lilah?” she whispered.

  The only response was the continued snoring. Finally, Kara turned to go. She turned around in the hallway, her eyes locating the baby monitor sitting on the dresser. It blinked, winking at her, then steadied again. Chilled, she left the room, ignoring the dark bonus room at the end of the hall, and rejoined the party.

  When the last of the guests were leaving, Kara was spent. Her mind remained on Lilah, still in bed, asleep. She told herself Lilah had just overexcited herself in the pool, or she was coming down with something. But that didn’t explain the eerie feeling she had had in her bedroom or the woman’s face she had seen earlier in the window—the trick of the light.

  Kara tried to dash away her thoughts as she walked Tracy to her SUV, not finding the energy to muster up a smile.

  “I had a good time,” Tracy said. “It’s weird not being able to just meet for a walk or to go shopping.”

  “Yeah.”

  “I wish we had been able to do the fire pit.”

  “With Lilah not feeling well, I didn’t want to exclude her. We’ll do it next time.”

  “Poor baby.” Tracy started the engine, hesitated, then said, “Don’t forget about your mom.”

  There it was, the dig. Kara blinked. “We’re not getting into that again.”

  “I won’t tell her about the party. She knows where you live, though, right?” Tracy chuckled, but Kara didn’t smile.

  “Yes, she knows where we moved to. I haven’t totally shut her out. I still talk to her. Don’t worry about it.” It’s not your business, she wanted to say.

  “She misses you.”

  Kara asked, doubtfully, “Did she say that?”

  Shannon’s voice carried over from the porch, startling them, “Tracy, are you leaving?”

  Tracy called back, “Yes! It was nice meeting you!”

  “You too!”

  They watched Shannon sit down on the swing before Tracy said to Kara, “I won’t tell her I came over.”

  “Alright,” Kara replied, her lips pursed. It wasn’t the best scenario to have her friend as the go-between, but Kara knew there was nothing she could do about it. She wanted Margaret to have friends, but Tracy didn’t have to be one of them.

  They said goodnight and Tracy drove away.

  “Tracy seems nice,” Shannon said, stopping the swing when Kara approached. “Have you been friends for a long time?”

  “Yeah, a while,” Kara replied, sitting beside her. “We worked together in retail when Jack was a baby.”

  “That’s cool.”

  “It was okay. She’s a district manager now. We were just salesclerks when I worked there.”

  “Oh, so you would’ve moved up in the company if you’d stayed.”

  “Nah. Tracy’s more ambitious. It was just a job to me. I would’ve worked anywhere. She knew me before I met John. He rescued me from the chaos.”

  “Chaos?”

  “That’s the wrong word. It was tough, though. My mom and I have never been close and well, it was hard living with her, her negativity...When John came along, it was like I was going to be okay. I wasn’t going to be…like her. It was a fear of mine. I didn’t want to be alone.”

  “Well, you had Jack. You wouldn’t have been alone.”

  “That’s true. But I don’t want to be like her. She’s bitter and vindictive, and then I met John and he was great. I thought maybe I wouldn’t be like her after all…I don’t want to waste my energy talking about her.”

  “Sorry. I didn’t mean to get you upset.”

  “No, I’m the one who’s unloading on you. Sorry, Tracy just mentions her and it gets me started.” Kara laughed half-heartedly. “So, how’s your job?”

  “Accounting’s alright, but if I had it my way, I’d be a stay-at-home mom too. If we ever have kids we’ll probably be living hand-to-mouth, though. Tom likes what he does, but it doesn’t pay much, not unless he starts his own contractor business.”

  “You never know. Maybe he will.”

  “I doubt it. I’m the one who has to light the fire under his butt to get him motivated. Do you like being at home with the kids?”

  “I love it.” She hadn’t minded working, but when she had married John and they had realized they could survive on his salary alone, she jumped at the chance to be home with her children. Every so often she felt a pang of guilt, knowing her mother had never had that opportunity. She had wondered more than once if their relationship would’ve been different if Margaret had been able to be around more when she was growing up.

  “You really lucked out. Supportive husband, good kids, awesome house.”

  They rocked for a few minutes in silence, looking into the night. Headlights flashed and a car glided by. Kara’s eyes followed its red taillights, the only lights on the road, until it disappeared around a bend and was swallowed by a galaxy of trees. Her eyes drifted over the Foremans’ lit house next door. A hanging lamp burned in the enclosed porch. She stared until a shadow passed by, dashing it out briefly.

  “Oh!” Kara slid back in her seat.

  “What is it? What did you see?” Shannon asked, sitting up.

  Kara didn’t answer at first, her eyes moving over the darkness shrouding the property line. “I don’t know,” she said finally.

  “What happened?”

  “The light next door just flickered. It went out for a second. Probably a dying light bulb.” A flickering, or somebody walking by?

  “I don’t know of a time when a light bulb made me jump!” Shannon joked.

  Maybe it had been Marvin or Diane passing through to lock the porch door. Or Matthew.

  “Did the kids go to bed?” Shannon asked.

  “Jack’s watching TV. Lilah’s still conked out. I’m hoping she sleeps through the night. I hope she’s not sick.”

  “Poor thing. You’re probably done with the day too. We’ll be leaving soon. Tom was inside talking to John about construction again.”

  Kara nodded, but didn’t say anything.

  They rocked and were quiet again until Shannon broke the silence. “I noticed that sometimes you call Lilah ‘Sophie’.”

  Kara’s stomach flip-flopped. She had? When had she noticed that? She licked her lips and swallowed. Trying to be nonchalant, she said, “Oh, you caught that, huh?”

  “A couple times. I wasn’t sure who you meant at first. Is it Lilah’s middle name?”

  Kara touched her hair where it lay limp over her shoulders. She swallowed. Her voice quiet, she said, “It’s not her middle name…Sophie was Lilah’s sister.” The words were naked, suspended in the humid night. The subject was stilted enough with John, and now to be talking about it with someone she had recently met…It was surreal.

  “ ‘Was’? Oh, honey, I’m so sorry.” Shannon touched Kara’s shoulder and stopped swinging. “I’m so sorry about your loss.”

  “We don’t need to talk about it.” It had happened so long ago. She was over it…or was supposed to be over it anyway.

  “If you ever want to talk about her…Seriously, I’m here.”

  “Thanks.” Kara started swinging.

  Sophie. She h
ad said the name again without even being aware and now Shannon had heard her.

  “I’m a good listener,” Shannon prompted.

  Kara didn’t answer at first, but then from somewhere deep inside, she said, “She didn’t live very long. John considers her our stillborn, but she wasn’t stillborn. Sophie lived for three minutes. It wasn’t for long, but she did live.” The first six months after had been the hardest. During those long days, Kara had relived the birth and death nearly every day.

  The hospital had given them a white memory box. It didn’t hold much, just Sophie’s swaddling blanket, the gown and cap she had worn, and an index card noting her date of birth. Kara had returned to it every now and again to reflect, as if a part of her thought she’d forget. In the apartment, she had kept the box in her nightstand, but here, it remained in the bonus room. She was sad, picturing it packed away in storage.

  “Wow, Kara, I don’t even know how you can manage being in that situation.”

  “Some people have funerals and others memorials. Some even refuse to remember they were preparing for a baby. We ended up having a small funeral, barely anybody was there. Sophie was buried at St. Michael’s in Cosgrove. Jack was a toddler. She was John’s first child.”

  “John’s not Jack’s father?” Shannon’s outburst was loud and obtrusive to Kara’s ears.

  “N-no, he’s not.” Kara’s mind was halfway in the memory of that heartbreaking time six years ago and halfway on the porch swing. She mumbled, “Jack’s father, David, didn’t even stick around for his birth. He doesn’t even know we had a boy.”

  “Wow…I’m sorry.”

  The swinging made Kara dizzy; the scent of the countryside she normally adored was too sweet and the air was stifling. She dragged her feet against concrete, causing them to come to a jolting halt. “I’m tired. It’s been a long day.” She stood. “I hope everyone had a good time.”

  Shannon reassured her, “We all had fun.”

  Tom stepped out the front door then. “Ready to go?”

  “Yes,” Shannon said. She leaned near Kara. “Thanks for having us.”

  Kara led them to Shannon’s jeep parked in the driveway turnaround where the lamppost cast it in light.

  “Kara,” Shannon said, opening the driver’s side door, “Take a long bath tonight, then stay in bed tomorrow and relax.” Tom slid into the passenger side as she said, “Hey, let’s go shopping in town Monday. I have the day off.”

  “John works and I have the kids…”

  “We’ll go when they’re at school.”

  Kara didn’t have an excuse not to go, other than to curl up in bed, feeling sorry for herself. “…Okay, sure, that’d be nice.”

  She said goodbye and went inside the house, feeling vulnerable. She peeped in John’s office, finding him at his computer. “Are the kids sleeping?”

  “Yeah. Jack just went to bed. Lilah’s still out.”

  Kara nodded, saying as she walked away, “I’m going to bed.”

  “Okay. I’ll be there soon.”

  She climbed into bed and closed her eyes. She willed herself to fall asleep, but all she saw was Sophie.

  Kara didn’t sleep well. What she had managed had been dreamless, but that was better than the strange dreams that had become the norm. Sitting up in bed the next morning, she saw it was just after six, not an indecent hour to get up.

  In the kitchen, she leaned against the sink, nursing a cup of tea. She gazed out the window, remembering the blonde apparition from the day before; there was no face in the window now. The kitchen was just the kitchen. She poured another cup, watching the sun rise. Really, there was only one thing she thought about. She set the cup on the counter and went into the foyer. She started up the staircase.

  It was time.

  She moved with purpose and entered the bonus room, a room she had avoided the last few weeks. Immediately, her eyes located the cardboard box marked, “Personal.” She looked away, taking in the rest of the room as a whole. It was dim, the sunrise shedding just enough light for her to see her way around. She stalled a moment, restacking a pile of boxes she imagined was lopsided. Her stomach churned.

  Finally, she squatted down and opened the intended cardboard box. Why was it so hard? She had gotten over this, hadn’t she? It had been years since she had felt this way.

  Gingerly, she pulled out the white memory box, and carrying it in both hands, feeling the weight of it, she took it to her bedroom and placed it on her dresser. John was still asleep. She stood for a moment, running her hands over the glossy lid. She was aware of the weight lifting off her shoulders, as if Sophie had just been scolding her for hiding her away. But Kara was doing the right thing now, she could sense it. Yes, it felt good bringing Sophie back into the fold.

  Chapter Twelve

  “Eat some of these.” Kara pushed the plate of carrot sticks toward Lilah.

  “Gross.” Lilah wiggled in her kitchen chair.

  Jack rolled his eyes. “They can’t be gross. They don’t have any taste.” He grabbed one and chomped down to prove his point. “See, they taste like water, just crunchy.”

  “They’re not like celery,” Kara told her, picking one up. “Have at least one.”

  “They’re good, Lilah,” Jack said.

  “You’re not leaving the table until this one’s gone.” Kara set the carrot on Lilah’s plate next to her grilled cheese sandwich.

  Lilah wiggled her head and squirmed in her seat nonchalantly, pointing at her sandwich. “I have to eat this anyway.”

  “Yeah, but you can’t leave until the carrot’s gone,” Jack explained. “So, even if it’s the last thing on your plate, you can’t leave ‘til it’s gone.”

  Lilah took a bite of her sandwich, still wiggling as she chewed.

  Kara sank into a chair across from the kids and rubbed her temples, watching Lilah, but already, her mind was somewhere else. She had stayed away from her bedroom all morning, keeping busy in other rooms of the house. She had unpacked the memory box and had put it on her dresser that morning, but she had slipped almost as quickly away, without looking back. It was there in the open, but so far it felt more frightening to her than consoling, and that confused her.

  Maybe if she and John talked about it…maybe that was the antidote she needed to be able to sleep again. But talk about what exactly? Did she mean to rehash Sophie’s birth and immediate death? Why would she even need to go back there? That had been six years ago. They had already grieved her death.

  Or instead of discussing the pained topic with him, maybe she needed to open the white box, slide it back on its hinges and pull out the white notecard that had Sophie’s name, date of birth, height, and weight written in loopy letters. Maybe she needed to smell the red-and-blue striped blanket that was inside to see if it still smelled of baby powder, or maybe she needed to trace the outline of the stamped infant footprint.

  But that meant she’d have to return to her bedroom and open the memory box.

  She bit into her turkey sandwich, looking out the window at the pool. John, having already eaten a quick lunch, was presently tossing a scoopful of clarifier into the water. Lilah’s inner tube had been set on the pool ledge. “Lilah, what happened in the pool yesterday?” Kara asked. She turned from the window and looked at her daughter.

  Lilah swallowed her mouthful and then drank from her juice box.

  Kara prompted, “What made you upset?”

  Lilah pulled her mouth off the straw. “I wanted out.”

  “Nothing upset you? You screamed because you wanted to get out?”

  “Uh-huh.”

  “I don’t think that’s why.” Kara turned to Jack and asked, “Do you know what happened?”

  He chewed a carrot, not meeting her eyes. “No.”

  “Are you sure?”

  He started to shake his head, but then said, “Because she fell in the water.”

  “Is that why, Lilah? You fell in and got scared?”

  “Not-uh!” Lilah puffe
d back. She distracted herself then when the straw she pushed into her juice box emitted an annoying squeak. She giggled, pulling it and out and pushing it back in, recreating the sound.

  “It’s okay to have been scared when you fell in the water,” Kara said.

  “I didn’t fall.”

  “Stop doing that.”

  Lilah did it once more before meet Kara’s gaze. Her laughter had faded. “I didn’t fall in! Jack pushed me!”

  “Jack wasn’t by the pool when you fell in.”

  Lilah widened her eyes. “He did it!”

  “I didn’t!” Jack exclaimed.

  Kara held up her hands. “Okay, guys, enough! Soph—” She stopped herself, closed her eyes briefly, then shook her head before opening them again. “I would’ve been scared too.”

  Lilah whined, “I didn’t fall.”

  Kara sighed. “Eat your lunch.”

  Jack had lost his appetite and drank his water to refrain from having to admit what had really happened in the pool. The truth was he knew why Lilah had screamed. It was because the blonde lady had pulled her in. He had seen her in the water again, well, he had seen the back of her head. The long yellow hair had floated just under the surface of the water, spreading out as she had drifted from the middle of the pool, edging close to Lilah and then away again. He had watched, promising himself he’d act if the lady had tried something. And she had tried something, hadn’t she? But he hadn’t been there when she had made her move. He had taken off, suddenly nauseous, feeling a dark cloud hovering over him. The feeling had vanished once he had distanced himself from the pool. But although he could breathe comfortably again, his sister had been in danger: she had been pulled in. He hadn’t been able to protect her, after all.

  He took another gulp of water, grateful his mother seemed to have dropped the subject and Lilah seemed alright. Nothing truly bad had happened.

  Kara’s eyes lowered on the nameless statue standing on the table. The uncanny grins faced Lilah, making Kara’s view of the ivory girl and frog’s backs unidentifiable shapes of conjoined clay. Kara frowned as she recalled the unsettling feeling she had had the day before as she listened to Lilah giggling in her sleep. She didn’t mention it, didn’t ask her daughter what she had dreamed, hoping they had been truly good dreams. After all, why would they have not been?