“You probably don’t need to. She’d expect you to be sad on Sara’s birthday.” Donna studied her for so long she felt her cheeks prickle with heat. “And so would I.”
“What does that mean?”
Donna was a master at firing the last shot, and she was already gone.
Eve rolled the tin of maple syrup back and forth in her hands, examining the snow and maple trees on the label. She’d been working on a couple of winter scenes, and was satisfied with how she’d done the bare branches and dead sky, but painting snow made for a particular challenge.
Water rumbled through the pipes as Donna turned on the shower and, a few minutes later, the front door opened and slammed closed. Button entered the kitchen with a hopeful smile on her face. It didn’t quite reach her eyes.
“Good morning, my Frida.” She bent to kiss Eve on the top of the head, and placed a gentle hand on either side of her face. Whatever Button saw in her expression, it extinguished her attempt at a smile.
Stroking Eve’s curls, she asked, “Are you okay?”
Her grandmother’s sympathy brought immediate tears to her eyes. “No.”
“Me, neither.”
A little later, Donna entered the kitchen and found them curled around each other. “Time to get dressed.”
Donna wore crisp black slacks and a charcoal silk blouse. It was the same outfit she’d worn to Sara’s funeral.
“Eve,” Donna said, when Eve didn’t move fast enough for her liking.
“All right.” She pulled reluctantly away from her grandmother and wiped her damp cheeks.
“Fifteen minutes,” Donna said as she left the kitchen.
There was a piece of lint near the ankle of Donna’s perfectly pressed pant leg, and Eve found her eyes returning to it again and again. It seemed the safest place to look, as it lowered the risk of accidentally meeting her mother’s muddy gaze.
The compassion she saw in the nurse’s face was somehow even worse. She saw no judgment there, and it made her want to press against the nurse’s ample chest and weep. It made her want to unburden the giant load of secrets she kept stuffed around her heart. But if she did, how many lives would come crumbling down?
“So, are there any questions?” the nurse asked, looking from her to Donna and back again.
Donna’s legs were crossed, and the top one kept bopping up and down like someone was hitting that reflex spot near her knee with an invisible hammer. “I think you’ve explained it very clearly. Thank you.”
The nurse moved a bit closer to her. “How about you, Eve? Do you understand what will happen during the procedure?”
Eve kept her gaze down. “I think so.”
“Are you comfortable with the risks? As I said, they are low, but it’s important to know what potential complications might arise.”
She tried to nod, but her head wouldn’t move.
“Eve,” Donna said.
“Yes, I understand.”
“If you’re uncertain in any way, we have counsellors you can speak to about your options.”
“That won’t be necessary,” Donna said.
“Eve?” the nurse asked.
“It’s okay.”
The nurse considered for a moment, and Eve got the impression she was debating whether to push more on the counselling.
Perhaps Donna thought the same. In her courtroom voice, she said, “How much longer will this take? We’ve already been here for an hour.”
The nurse spoke to Eve, rather than Donna. “We’ll start with a blood draw and ultrasound, and then you’ll speak to a counsellor. While this is going on, your mom will fill out some paperwork.”
“She doesn’t need to speak to a counsellor. The decision has already been made.”
“The counsellor helps your daughter through the emotional aspects of the procedure, Mrs. Gold —”
“Ms.,” Donna said.
“My apologies.”
“So, how much longer?”
“The actual procedure takes about fifteen minutes, but there will be recovery time after. And of course there are things to do before the procedure. All in all you should expect to be here for about five hours.”
“Another five hours? Are you serious?”
The nurse’s mouth tightened. “Perhaps four at this point.”
Donna checked her watch. “We have an appointment across town at three.”
“I really don’t care about getting my ears pierced today.”
“It’s not that.” Donna waved a hand in exasperation. “Can we get moving?”
“Certainly.” There were cracks forming in the nurse’s professional mask. “Come with me, Eve, and we’ll get you all set up.”
Donna stood and tucked her purse under her arm, preparing to follow them.
“Please wait here, Ms. Gold. Sabrina will bring you the paperwork.”
Without waiting for a response, the nurse opened the door and ushered Eve from the room. She closed the door behind them, perhaps a little too firmly.
“Do you have cramps?” Donna asked, steering around the back end of a delivery truck that had parked with its nose across the sidewalk.
“I’m okay.” She stared resolutely out the window. The day was bleak, rain falling in fat drops. Seemed about right.
“Did they try to talk you out of having the procedure?”
“They offered me a discount if I referred a friend.”
“That’s not funny,” Donna said.
“You’re right. I don’t have friends.”
Silence descended, save the swish-swish of the windshield wipers. They headed east into farmland and forest, an area she’d never seen before, but she couldn’t be bothered to ask where they were going. She watched the passing landscape, hands gently pressing her aching abdomen.
“I don’t suppose you’re willing to tell me the name of the boy, now?”
She remained silent.
Donna’s lipstick had rubbed off except for a rim of dark red around the edge. “I didn’t think so.”
At a stoplight, her mother turned to look at her. Under her eyes was a dusting of black mascara. “You may not understand this now, but I did this to give you the opportunities I never had.”
“What opportunities?”
The light turned green, and Donna turned back to the road.
Eve lost herself in dozing misery, face turned to the window. She awoke some unknown time later as Donna pulled into the circular driveway of a three-storey brick building.
“Where are we?”
There was a placard above the door that read Riverbend Psychiatric Hospital.
“Mom?” Panic hit her like a freight train. “What are we doing here?”
Donna turned off the engine and grasped the steering wheel. She gripped until her knuckles were white. “I’m afraid we won’t be getting your ears pierced today.”
“What’s going on? Why are we here?”
The large double doors opened, and two burly men wearing scrubs exited the building and climbed down the steps.
“I think you need a break. And some help, because frankly I don’t know what to do with you.”
“You’re leaving me here? Are you crazy?”
“It’s only temporary,” Donna said. “They can help you here. They can figure out …”
“Figure out what?”
“What’s wrong.” Donna’s eyes filled with tears, and the sight of them was terrifying. Had she ever seen Donna cry before? “Because there’s something really wrong with you, Eve.”
“I promise I’ll be good. Better than good! Just please don’t make me go in there.”
“Let’s just talk to them.”
The orderlies, or whoever they were, had reached the car. One of them opened Eve’s door, and she kicked at him.
“Eve, don’t!” Donna said.
He reached in and unbuckled her seat belt. His pores were huge and dripping sweat.
“Get away from me! What are you doing?”
“Don�
��t fight him,” Donna said. “You just promised you’d be good.”
The orderly hauled her out of the car and wrapped her in some kind of full-body hold that locked her arms across her abdomen.
“Hey, don’t touch me! Mom, please!”
Donna didn’t move. She stared out the windshield, gripping the steering wheel with such force the veins in her arms popped. Tears streamed down her cheeks.
The other orderly closed in, and they moved her toward the stairs.
“Mom! Mom!”
Finally, finally, Donna exited the car.
Her chest lightened with hope. They were going to have a meeting, Donna had said. So she would have a chance to convince her mom, and whomever else they’d be meeting with, to let her go home.
Donna strode stiffly to the trunk of the car, popped it open, and pulled out a small suitcase. Without looking at her daughter, she carefully placed the suitcase on the bottom stair, turned, and walked back to the car.
“Mom?”
“This is for your own good, Eve.” Donna climbed behind the wheel and closed the door. The engine roared to life.
“Where are you going?”
The car rolled forward, tires spraying water, and angled down the circular drive to the street.
“Mommy!”
The car reached the edge of the driveway and the brake lights flared. It turned right and disappeared from view.
NINETEEN
ICY FINGERS SLID into her vagina. They pushed against her cervix, seeking the warm nest of her womb. If they found it, she was certain the amniotic fluid would freeze solid, the unborn skin would crystallize, and the tiny heart would be stilled.
“Noooooo.”
“Eve,” the woman’s voice beckoned. “Eve, come here!” She opened her eyes. Her hands gripped the cold metal of an enormous garden gate. It rose skyward in a complex weave of cherubs and skulls, snakes and eagles. She gripped a handle shaped like a scythe.
Behind her lay the unending field of quicksilver plants. Twice her height, their branches tangled together in an impenetrable phalanx, covered in leaves that looked like a million pieces of tinfoil. The icy wind stirred them awake to rattle and hiss.
It was so cold. And yet she stood naked in snow that was ankle-deep. Her skin was marble, her belly rounded over the small life that burrowed inside. Her son. She could feel his heartbeat, steady and warm within her freezing body. This time, she vowed she would protect that little life.
She tried to push and then pull the gate open, but it wouldn’t budge. When she tried to let go, she realized her hands were fused to the metal like a tongue to a pole in winter. The wind was an icicle between her legs, stabbing at the warmth of her womb.
“Please don’t hurt the baby.”
“There is no baby.”
Her abdomen cramped, a breathless pain. She bent forward, trying to curl around the warmth in her centre. But her hands were still locked on the gate, so all she could do was writhe in breathless agony.
“Eve …” The voice came from everywhere: from the wind, from the rolling fog, from the snow beneath her feet — and from somewhere inside her broken brain.
Or perhaps it came from whatever was behind her in the quicksilver. There was a dark splotch out there, like blight on a piece of fruit. It moved like smoke in the corner of her eye — forming, dissipating, and reforming so quickly she never caught more than a glimpse, but she knew it was moving closer.
“Please stay away!”
“Why do you demand so little of yourself? How long can you pretend?”
“Mom?”
The black splotch shifted and reformed. She tried to pull away, certain that if she saw the face behind the voice, her mind would shatter.
Tears crystallized on her eyeballs, froze on her cheeks. “No! Stay back!”
“This is your chance.” The dark shape solidified into something more or less human. It had arms and legs, and a strangely misshapen head. “Look at your reflection. Remember. See the truth behind your lies.”
“No!”
“And atone for what you’ve done.”
“Leigh! Help me!”
At the sound of her voice, the darkness cracked open like an eggshell, revealing fissures of blinding white light.
“You can’t run forever.”
“Leigh!” she screamed again and again.
The shell shattered, revealing yellow morning light. She burrowed into the fur of her husband’s armpit, too relieved even to weep.
“Stop that!” He wiggled away from her. “It tickles!”
“Sorry.” She burrowed closer, sniffing at the musk of his skin. He felt so warm, so real. “I had another bad dream.”
“Can’t you think of better ways to wake me? You could at least try doing that lower down.”
His hand roamed over her curves, warming her chilled skin. Rolling her onto her side, he pressed against her back.
“Don’t. I’m as big as a house.” She was slow and pendulous and aching in every reknitted bone.
“Maybe.” He cupped a firm hand around the globe of her belly. In response, the baby stirred to life, kicking against the walls of her abdomen. “But you’re my house.”
“I have to pee.”
“What else is new?”
“But Leigh …” she said.
“Don’t worry, this will only take a minute.” His breath was hot against her ear.
“You say that like it’s a good thing.”
He laughed against the back of her neck, dampening her curls.
It was Sunday, and Leigh didn’t have to work. He brought her breakfast in bed, waking her from a fitful slumber.
“Rise and shine, mama.” He stroked the hair off her forehead. “Hey, look at that, you’ve got more greys this morning.”
“What?” She pushed herself up with some effort. Leigh propped a couple of pillows behind her back and reorganized the comforter to cover her pale legs.
“Many women get grey hairs during pregnancy,” he said. “It makes you look distinguished.”
“Hmph. Hey, I don’t need the tray. Look!” She placed the bowl of oatmeal on top of her belly and grinned at him as it balanced there. “Ta-da!” Just as she said it, there was a definitive thump from within and the bowl toppled.
Leigh caught it just before it hit the blanket. “Don’t think he liked that.”
“You little gremlin,” she told her belly. “You’re already trying to make a mess.”
Leigh set the bowl on the night table. “Let me feel.”
She obliged, sinking back on the bed and closing her eyes as his hands probed her belly.
“I think he’s turned.”
She opened her eyes to see him smiling at her.
“I can’t feel his head. It must be deep in your pelvis —”
“No wonder that’s hurting so much.”
“But I’m pretty sure this, right here, is his backside, and up here is a knee and a foot.”
As he felt the firm lines of his son buried beneath the taut flesh of her belly, his gaze grew far-off and dreamy. He looked just as she imagined he’d have looked all those years ago, if given the chance. It made her chest ache with a strange mixture of grief and gratitude.
“I don’t think it will be much longer,” she said.
“Just four more days until your C-Section.”
“Right.” She shook her head as she remembered. The doctors thought a natural labour was too risky, with her broken pelvis. “I just meant I think he’s ready to come out.”
He lowered the nightgown over the swelling of her belly, helped her into a more upright position, and handed her the bowl of oatmeal.
“This is our last Sunday.” He wriggled his eyebrows and lowered his voice ominously, making her smile. “How would you like to spend it?”
“Sleeping.”
“I can get behind that. But let’s go for a walk this afternoon. It looks like it’s going to be a sunny day.”
Leigh was an avid runner. She c
ouldn’t understand the passion he felt for something that seemed pointless and painful to her. A slow lumber down the street was about all she’d be able to manage, but it seemed like a good idea. She nodded her agreement.
Sitting on the edge of the bed, he asked, “What was your dream about?”
“What dream?”
“You said you had a bad dream. And you cried out. You don’t remember?”
She shook her head. “What was I saying?”
“Something about the baby.”
The skin on the back of her neck prickled.
“Vivid dreams are common during pregnancy,” he said. “It’s the hormones.”
“I know. I’ve always dreamed vividly at certain times of the month.”
Scooping oatmeal into his mouth, he looked pointedly at her bowl. Obligingly, Eve lifted a big spoonful to her mouth.
“I think I’ll catch the ten o’clock NFL game. You can call me if you need anything.”
She spat her oatmeal back into the bowl, making him jump. The taste was thick and bitter on her tongue.
“Is there maple syrup in this?”
“We’re out of brown sugar.”
Memories oozed to the surface like blood from a wound.
“You have the worst mother in the world.”
There was nothing to evacuate from her stomach, but she heaved and heaved, anyway, and the baby kicked furiously in response.
“Little do you know how much I’ve protected you.”
“Why did you do that?” she asked.
A bland expression on his face, he handed her a glass of water to rinse her mouth. His hair was damp from the shower, and he pushed it out of his eyes. “Do you want something else instead?”
“No. Just get it out of here.”
After he took the bowl away, she eased under the blankets and closed her eyes. With trembling hands, she stroked her belly beneath the cotton nightgown.
“See the truth behind your lies.”
Her stomach felt cold, like a water balloon pulled from the fridge on the hottest August days of her childhood. The baby pushed against her hand, reassuringly strong.
“I won’t lose you again,” she said, and felt a sharp jab in return, as though he was telling her that all would be well.
The Day She Died Page 11