Baby Teeth_A Novel

by Zoje Stage

  “Mommy’s going to be fine, just a little circle…”

  But Hanna could tell he was saying it for Mommy’s benefit, not hers. When Mommy’s mask slipped off, she looked like she was going to cry. Hanna wondered if her skin had melted and maybe the gauze was covering a hole. Maybe she’d be able to see Mommy’s teeth, and maybe food would dribble out when she chewed. Surely Daddy couldn’t love her anymore—not with her smelly butt and that horrifying face. But Mommy tried hard to keep her mask just so, where she didn’t look angry or I’m-gonna-kill-you.

  Hanna was certain she had Beatrix to thank for how smoothly everything was going. Beatrix was a fairy godmother with her own sort of magic. She wasn’t sure if Daddy quit his job or if Beatrix had used her special powers to make it so he didn’t need one anymore. She liked having him at home, and he spent so much more time with her and played with her all day and said, “We’ll just let Mommy do what she needs to do upstairs” like he didn’t want to be with her, either.

  They came in from playing football—his name for it really did make more sense because you kicked the ball with your feet—when it started to sprinkle. Mommy looked happy to see her and smiled.

  “There you are,” she said, like she hadn’t been able to see Hanna through the glass.

  Mommy had all sorts of stuff on the table, crafty stuff like scissors and thread, scraps of fabric and felt, and a jar of mismatched buttons.

  She and Daddy left their shoes by the double doors, then ambled over to see what Mommy was up to.

  “Making something?” Daddy asked.

  “I thought we could make something, together, all of us.” She turned to Hanna. “I’ve learned enough from your book to understand that Under-SlumberBumbleBeasts are made from bits of this and pieces of that, so I got out some bits and pieces. And needle and thread. I thought we could make you your own special UnderSlumberBumbleBeast.”

  Hanna’s eyes lit up. She turned to Daddy; he must have been thinking the same thing: is this really Mommy? Mommy with a good idea?

  “Fantastic, älskling.” He kissed Mommy’s cheek. The good one.

  She didn’t have her hands and feet all wrapped up anymore, so Hanna took that as a sign that everything was almost fine. It was time for her to figure out what to do next—her biggest, bestest attack yet. If she were Mommy, she probably would have stayed mad a bit longer. Maybe Mommy was still planning some sort of future revenge. Hanna would keep an eye on her, just in case, but she felt safe with Daddy there, and she really really really wanted her own BumbleBeast.

  She scrambled onto a chair. Daddy sat beside her, reaching for the felt and fabric.

  “So, what do we do? Where do we start?” he asked.

  “First, Hanna can pick which fabric she wants for the body—we have old blue jeans, a snowflake sock, felt…”

  Hanna grabbed for the blue jean scraps—they were soft and so faded they were almost gray. More important, they had belonged to Daddy once, before he cut them off for shorts.

  “What sort of shape do you want? Round? Oval? Square? Rectangle?” Mommy asked.

  Hanna made a figure in the air with her finger.

  “So … a rectangle, with soft corners?”

  She asked her lots of questions. For once Hanna didn’t mind nodding and shaking her head and pointing and making lots of fast decisions. Mommy did all the sewing parts, but Hanna did all the picking parts. Daddy helped by cutting things out with the big scissors.

  Mommy sewed two almost-alike buttons on the creature’s face for eyes, and a tiny half-dome bobble of a button for a nose, but Hanna refused all the questions about what the mouth should be like. No no no. It didn’t need a mouth. She picked two little yellow pom-poms—from a hat she’d worn as a toddler—for the feet. Daddy doubled-over strips of red felt to make lanky arms, and Mommy stitched them up and put light-blue felt hands on the ends that looked like big gloves.

  When it was almost sewn all the way around, Mommy turned it right-side out and let Hanna fill it with dried black beans. Then she stitched it closed.

  Hanna rolled up the snowflake sock and set it on the BumbleBeast’s head like a winter hat, and Mommy and Daddy gushed about what a good idea that was. She felt so rosy inside, she wanted to fold into herself and go away for a minute, but she stayed because she didn’t want to miss anything. Mommy stitched the little hat so it wouldn’t fall off.

  When it was finished, Hanna plopped the BumbleBeast on his feet and bum and he sat up nicely, weighted by his beanbag body. She clapped his hands together and kissed his nose; she loved him so much. He whispered his name in her ear—Skog, the Swedish word for forest. Giggling, she held him in the crook of her arm like a baby, and her head bobbed around as she listened to him chatter.

  “You like your little friend?” Daddy asked.

  Hanna responded by kissing Skog’s belly. She lifted him in her outstretched arms and danced around the room, making a noise that, to her, was almost like a song.

  Daddy stood behind Mommy’s chair and they watched her, looking like statue people with no muscles and frozen smiles. On another day, Hanna might have skipped up to her room so they couldn’t watch her, but she didn’t care now that she had Skog.

  “Great idea,” Daddy murmured to Mommy.

  Mommy wiped something from her eye and gathered up the scraps and bits they hadn’t used.

  “If only this had happened before…” Her voice sounded broken and high, almost like a whining child.

  Daddy whispered something to her, and Mommy wiped her eyes again and walked in her new way, flat and awkward, toward the stairs.

  “I have to finish her laundry…”

  Then it was just Daddy, and she didn’t mind if he watched her dance forever. Skog was a good partner so they twirled and twirled.

  * * *

  Wednesday was Go for a Drive Day. While Daddy put stuff in the car, Mommy brushed her hair. Mommy was back to her old self, making everyone look fancy, and they all wore clothes they couldn’t play in. Mommy’s hair looked shiny and she smelled sweet—fruity and flowery—like the special bottles she kept in their glittery white bathroom. She had on her butterscotch-candy necklace and when Mommy turned her around to finish her hair, it was only inches away and Hanna wanted wanted wanted so badly to lick it.

  “They have horses there,” Mommy said in a sickly, singsong voice. “Horses just for the children to ride. Remember when you rode the pony? When we went to that country fair, a long time ago? We’re going to the country again.”

  The country was where large animals lived, because there was no room for them in the city because the cars and buses ate all the grass. Hanna liked grass and animals much better than noisy farting trucks and cars. The country sounded like a nicer place to live. Beatrix’s name had popped up over the last couple of days, and it seemed likely that Go for a Drive Day—the country in general—was some part of her fairy godmother’s magic. First Daddy stopped working, and now they were leaving the city for a quiet place with horses and trees, with no people around for miles. She even had her very own BumbleBeast. Beatrix’s magic was better than her own. Hanna felt all glowy, and even Mommy wasn’t so bad when Daddy was around, and she hoped they were going to live in a cottage made of iced cookies with gumdrops on the roof.

  She buckled herself in, and Daddy shut the door. She let Skog sit on her shoulder so he could see out the window as they chug-chugged along in a sleepy snake of slow-moving cars. Daddy played some music he liked.

  “Instrumental,” he said. And catching her eye in the rearview mirror he added, “That means no words. We don’t need words all the time.” And he winked at her.

  She didn’t like the sounds the cars made when they went really fast. And she didn’t like the way the concrete roads were hemmed in on the sides. It would be much better if they could float in the air, or travel in a rocket ship above all the chaos until everything below them became tiny. Tiny things weren’t scary because you could step on them or hide them beneath your
hand—or even one of Skog’s hands—if you didn’t want to look at them anymore.

  She fell asleep and when she awoke, Skog was napping in her lap and there was more green out the windows. It smelled funny, like poop that doesn’t exactly stink, and she saw cows with brown and white shapes like puzzle pieces, huddled together so the pieces didn’t fit. She held Skog up to see, and he thought they were marvelous, too. She imagined how the cows all fit together, and how some would have to lie down and some would have to stand on their heads to get the puzzle right. Skog laughed and jumped up and down.

  They stopped for an early lunch, and Daddy got two orders of bacon and Mommy said she didn’t feel very well. She ordered toast, and told Daddy it wasn’t her stomach but her head.

  “Allergies, probably,” she said.

  Hanna knew better than to order pancakes or french toast because they were always better at home—buttery, not soggy and bland. She got grilled cheese and french fries, which Daddy stole one by one from her plate. He pretended he wasn’t stealing them, which made it all the more obvious and she couldn’t help laughing at his silly faces. Skog ate her pickle slices.

  Just when it was seeming like there was too much driving and not enough arriving, the car turned up a narrow road where some buildings sat at the top of the hill. They drove past tumbling meadows and Skog whispered “Maybe we can roll down them!” and she tickled him for having such a good idea. At the top of the hill was a parking area, and she unfastened her buckle as they pulled in, ready to leap out.

  A smiling man came to greet them and Hanna guessed he was a farmer. He wore muddy jeans and a sweatshirt with pushed-up sleeves and ripped pockets, and he shook hands with Daddy and Mommy.

  “Can I carry your things up for you?”

  Daddy popped the trunk and the farmer nodded toward the biggest building, the boxy modern one with reflective windows that didn’t look like it should be in the country, and told them which door to go in.

  Hanna tugged Daddy’s hand and pointed toward the scalloped hills, so green and inviting.

  “You’ll get to play outside soon,” he said. But he looked grim when he said it. Mommy wouldn’t even look at her as she walked gingerly across the pebbled lot in her flat shoes.

  They went inside and Hanna hated it immediately because it looked too much like an official place, a school, with handmade things on the walls and echoes of voices coming down the hallways. They went straight into the office and she dreaded what would come next—another principal, another interview. She weighed her options—barking and snarling were always good. Except that she never behaved like that in front of Daddy and wasn’t sure she wanted him to see her that way.

  Two blah-blah old women greeted them in the office. One had teeth that were a little brown and the other had teeth that were very white.

  “We’ve been expecting you,” said White Teeth.

  More handshaking and hellos and lots of smiles. Hanna stamped her foot. Even Skog gurgled his displeasure.

  “Why don’t we leave them to this boring adult stuff and we can go look around. Sound good?” Brown Teeth had twinkly eyes and Hanna liked how they smiled at the corners. “Say goodbye?”

  Hanna waved at Daddy but he surprised her by dropping to his knees and giving her a big hug and kiss. “Love you, lilla gumman, love you so much.”

  She hugged him back and raised the volume on her pitter-patter heart so he could hear her love.

  Mommy’s goodbye was less forceful. She held a wisp of Hanna’s hair between her fingers. Kissed her cheek. “See you later, alligator.”

  As Hanna started toward the door with Brown Teeth, Mommy burst into giggles. Everyone looked at her, and Mommy had to clamp a hand over her mouth and mutter some apologies. Hanna couldn’t make sense of her parents’ tangled-up emotions so she shook her head a little, trying to clear it of confusion. Brown Teeth extended her hand, wanting her to take it. She didn’t, but she followed her, hoping they would go outside. Maybe her fairy godmother had a hut made of twigs nearby. But when they left the building it was only to cross a short covered walkway into another building. Up some stairs. Down a hall.

  “My name is Audrey,” said Brown Teeth. “We’re going to get to know each other very well. I’m going to be here for you as much as you need.”

  She led her into a room with a bed and a window, a desk and a chest of drawers.

  Hanna stopped, pointing at the bed. She recognized the folded bundle of her comforter, her smiling daisy pillowcase. Why were her things in this strange room? It wasn’t her room. Brown Teeth unzipped the suitcase and Hanna spotted her robot pajamas, her ladybug rain boots … She stepped closer. It was filled with her things.

  “We can put your clothes in the drawers—do you want to organize them yourself?”

  Hanna scrumbled up her face and pointed to the next room. Would that be Daddy’s room?

  But Brown Teeth didn’t understand. “Do you have to go to the bathroom? You’ll share one with three other girls—and your night monitors. It’s right here.” She went to the doorway and pointed to something Hanna couldn’t see.

  Hanna shook her head and stamped her foot. She shouldn’t have left Daddy. With Skog held tightly under her arm, she ran from the room. Brown Teeth chased after her.

  “Hanna?”

  Across the hallway. Down the steps. She pushed open the door and for a second it was better: she was outside again where the air reminded her of solid, earthy things. She saw horses in a paddock snorting messages to each other. She saw flowers blooming in front of buildings that looked smaller and kinder than the one she left. Brown Teeth stood patiently beside her while she looked around.

  “Do you want to see the horses?” Brown Teeth had a nice voice, soothing like a cup of hot chocolate.

  Skog wanted to pet the horses’ long noses, but she told him he had to be more patient. They needed to find Daddy. She walked around to the front of the building, toward the graveled lot. Brown Teeth followed along.

  “I’ll let you explore. And I’ll just tag along and make sure you don’t get lost, okay? There’s lots to look at…”

  Hanna switched off her hearing. Her eyes swept the parking lot but Daddy’s car wasn’t there. Then she spotted it, rolling down the narrow road. It was already almost to the bigger road. She uttered an alarmed squeal and took off running.

  Wait! Wait!

  She almost wanted to yell. She tried to find her voice but it rattled around in her head, pinged back and forth across her tongue until it felt like a mummy in her mouth, bandaged and unmovable.

  Brown Teeth was faster than she expected her to be. She kept right up.

  “Wait! Hanna, little bear—wait!”

  Daddy’s car turned onto the bigger road and sped away. Hanna stopped. A thunderstorm roiled in her throat, big black clouds full of hail and lightning.

  “Uhhhhn!” she screamed, pointing at the car. “Daaaaaaaa!” The tears made her vision blurry, flooding the road, erasing the way back home.

  “I know, little bear.” Brown Teeth sat on the road and took her onto her lap. “Your parents love you and they want what’s best for you. And you’ll be with them again. Promise, promise.” She rocked Hanna as she wept.

  Skog climbed up and tucked himself between her chin and shoulder, trying to comfort her. But a part of her was still attached to Daddy, stretching as the distance grew between them, ripping away her insides.

  She surrendered to Brown Teeth’s embrace, certain she would bleed to death, and unable to fathom why Daddy would leave her to die with a stranger.

  SUZETTE

  WITH THE DRAPES fully open, the window to the playroom was nothing but a square of shimmering glass. Her child wasn’t in there and the impulse to jump up and look for her made her muscles twitch. It felt unreal, driving to Beatrix’s without Hanna. Often she had the impression of a ghost sitting in the backseat. The whole week had been similarly odd. She hadn’t thought much about it before, how much noise her mute child made. Up and
down the stairs. The comforting chatter of cartoons on the television. Her bouncy balls. Her little chirps and squeals, the way she hummed and sang to herself in a language without identifiable words.

  Catching her gaze, Beatrix glanced at the empty playroom. “You’re struggling with her absence?”

  Suzette shrugged. “It’s weird. I keep thinking I need to buy her some bananas and cheese. I go to her room and stand in the doorway, expecting to tell her something. I catch myself about to call up to her when I’m fixing a meal. We’ve had a routine. For a long time.” She didn’t say how free she felt, without the routine.

  “Is Alex struggling too?”

  “I guess. At bedtime the most. He wasn’t with her during the day, he’s busy at work again. I think the sight of the empty bed. That bothers him. She’s not hiding behind the door, she’s…” Much to her surprise she’d slept well all week. Unburdened.

  “You seem … contemplative. Are you feeling depressed? Is that something you’ve struggled with in the past?”

  “It’s not depression, it’s … everything else. I’m not sure if I’m still a mother. It’s like when you’re a kid and someone asks you what you want to be when you grow up. I feel like that, in a way I never did. I’m not sure who I am, but…”

  “I know it’s hard to not feel guilty, but you didn’t—”

  With an adamant shake of her head and a bitter laugh, Suzette silenced the therapist. “I haven’t tried to do that many things in my life, not really. With my health, I’ve always been kind of a recluse. And I’m just left thinking of … I make lists in my head of all the things I should have done differently. For my life. And hers. Things I should have said and shouldn’t have said. When I should have been more patient, or more firm, or more … Over and over.”

  “You wouldn’t blame yourself if she had, say, a hearing impairment.” Beatrix tilted her head, offering an encouraging smile.

  “I would. I probably would.” She gave the therapist a sardonic smirk. “I’d wonder what I exposed her to that damaged her sensitive baby ears. Or I’d blame myself for some genetic anomaly. You know, before we got pregnant, I told Alex my big concern was that she’d get Crohn’s disease—I was afraid I’d pass it on to her. And he reassured me, said if she did we’d know how to handle it, because of my experiences. And she’d never end up isolated, suffering. But she did. That’s exactly where she ended up. Maybe we never understood her at all. Maybe she was always trying to say something else. Now it’s Marshes’ turn to figure it out.”