by Hendin, KK
Well, the two of them deserve each other, I could hear Ravi say.
“That they do,” I said. “I don’t know what I ever saw in him. If I ever saw anything in him at all.”
A bird chortled from a tree top, and the wind whistled through the trees.
“Do you think I need therapy?”
Of course I needed therapy. I was sitting and pretending to conduct a conversation with my dead boyfriend.
You need to let go, I felt them say. His deep voice and her little one.
“But I’m not ready,” I whispered.
Standing up, I walked unsteadily toward the car. There was nowhere I could go to forget. Short of throwing myself off a bridge, there was nothing I could do to make me forget, either.
Maybe I should see a therapist. I thought back to the months after the accident—when everything was shrouded in miserable confusion. Would a therapist even have helped me then? I don’t know.
But Darlington-Grays didn’t go to therapists. At least, that’s what my mother claimed. Darlington-Grays didn’t need someone, even if that person did attend an Ivy League, to try to analyze them.
Besides, I was fine.
I was.
Right?
“Maddie, I kept on missin’ you all weekend.” Mrs. Mendez cornered me the next morning in the café.
If this was another conversation about Gabe and I, I was going to pour coffee on her head, I didn’t care how nice she was.
“Noie’s turning three on Friday, and we’re going to be making her a little birthday party on Thursday,” she said. “I know she would be thrilled if you came.”
Her third birthday. My stomach clenched. “It’s going to be at your house?” I asked.
She shook her head. “No, at the apartment. Gabe doesn’t want it to be anything too big, and Noie likes to play hostess, anyway.”
“I’d love to come,” I said, feeling my hands shake. “When should I be there?”
“At four,” she said. “Early supper kind of birthday party.”
“I’ll be there at four then,” I said.
Reaching over, she gave me a hug. What was with everyone here and hugging? “I’m so happy I caught you,” she gushed. “Noie’s going to be thrilled.” She sobered a bit. “Honey, I don’t really understand why she’s so attached to you, but honestly, I’m not going to ask any questions.”
I watched silently as she walked out of the café.
Her third birthday party.
Birthday presents.
Taking a deep breath, I unzipped the second duffel bag. The one that was nearly unpacked, save for the wrapped package at the bottom. It would be better if she had it, I told myself. It was still wrapped. A little worse for wear, but wrapped. I grabbed the spool of pink ribbon Martina had left here, and added it to the present to fancy it up a bit. Putting it gently into the empty bag from the bookstore, I set it down near the door and looked at myself in the mirror.
Casual dress fit for a little girl’s birthday party? Check. Birthday present? Check. Steady nerves? I had no idea.
The only way I was going to find out was going.
Gabe’s apartment was decorated with bunches of pink and silver balloons. There was a small crowd of people, and it smelled like pizza.
“You came!” Sam beamed when I walked in.
“Of course I came,” I said. “It’s Noie’s birthday party.”
Hearing her name, Noie turned around. “Maddie!” she called. “I’m three!”
“Tomorrow you’re three,” Gabe corrected, walking in from the kitchen. “Hey, Maddie.”
“Hi,” I answered, trying to pretend it all was okay.
“Oh, you brought a present?” Mrs. Mendez came over to peer into the carrier bag. “You shouldn’t have.”
“Like you didn’t,” Gabe said, looking at the huge gift sitting in the middle of the room.
“I’m allowed to spoil my granddaughter, Gabriel,” she scolded.
“I give up.” He threw his hands up in mock despair. “Well, feel free to add it to the pile,” he said to me. “Thanks for coming.”
“No problem,” I replied.
Following Sam over to the couch, I sat down next to Chris while she slid onto his lap. “What’s going on, café girl?” Chris said, turning toward me.
Uh, my life is still falling apart, and if I can make it through this birthday party in one piece it will be a miracle.
“Nothing much,” I said. “How’s the firefighting coming along?”
“Quiet week,” he said.
“That’s good,” I replied.
“Si, nieta,” a deep voice was saying. “Que es su fiesta de cumpleaños,” It’s your birthday party.
“Maddie, que es su fiesta de cumpleaños,” Noie repeated and giggled.
“No, silly girl, que es su fiesta de cumpleaños,” I said.
Mr. Mendez turned his head to look at me. “Habla español?” he asked, surprised.
I hadn’t lived in New York for twenty-one years for nothing. “Claro que si,” I replied.
A broad grin stretched across his face. “Oy, Mami, who taught you how to speak Spanish?” he asked, his English slightly accented. “It’s beautiful.”
I laughed. “An Argentine,” I replied. “And I spent some time in Spain.”
“Lucy, venga!” he called to Mrs. Mendez. “You have to hear this voice.”
“Carlos, she’s from New York. You’ve met people from there before,” she teased as she walked over.
I laughed. “No, Lucy, ella habla español,” he said, fairly beaming with pride at the fact that I spoke the language of his homeland. “It’s beautiful, like roses.”
“Like roses?” Gabe laughed, walking over. “Dad, Spanish isn’t beautiful like roses.”
“Shows how much I teach you,” his father said, wagging a joking finger at Gabe. “Her Spanish is beautiful like rosas.”
“Pizza, Daddy!” Noie called, running back over from her pile of presents that she had been peeking at.
“You ready, almost-birthday girl?” he asked, leaning down to scoop her up.
Leading the group, we crowded around the table and ate pizza, talking over and around each other, the conversation bouncing back and forth from English to Spanish. Even Chris was pretty familiar with the Spanish.
“Cake and then presents?” Gabe said, looking down at Noie, who nodded, excited.
Mrs. Mendez walked back in from the kitchen, holding a pink frosted cake with three candles sticking up from the top. “Happy Birthday to You,” we sang, Noie included.
“Make a wish,” Gabe said as Noie scrunched up her face and blew the candles out. Clapping, Gabe pulled the candles out of the cake and started slicing it into pieces.
“Pink cake for my birthday, Daddy?” Noie asked, thrilled at the explosion of pink that had taken place that day.
“Pink for your birthday,” Gabe agreed, handing her a small slice of cake. “But only on the outside of the cake. Because there’s no such thing as pink chocolate.”
“Pink chocolate is silly,” she giggled, taking a bite from her cake, getting frosting all over her nose.
“Presents NOW?” Noie asked, having waited the whole night for it.
We all burst into laughter. “You can open your presents now,” Mrs. Mendez agreed as we all sat in various spots around the couch.
Barreling over to the presents, Noie began to rip the wrapping paper off the big cardboard box. “A doll house!” she cried, thrilled.
“With dolls and furniture to go inside it,” Mrs. Mendez said, smiling down at Noie, who was nearly overwhelmed with excitement.
“What do you say to Grandma and Abuelo?” Gabe prompted her.
“Gracias!” Noie said, her Spanish perfectly pronounced.
Making quick work of the rest of her presents, she suddenly was at mine.
Was it a good idea? It was too late now.
Ripping off the wrapping paper, she stared down at the box. “A baby?” she gasped. “A
baby in a bed!”
It was a baby doll, nestled inside a little wooden cradle.
Coming over to me, clutching the baby doll, Noie looked up at me, eyes solemn. “Me and Devi say thank you,” she said, leaning over and kissing me on the cheek.
My eyes teared up and it was suddenly hard to speak around the giant lump in my throat. “You’re welcome,” I whispered.
Gabe looked at me like he wanted to say something, but didn’t.
And since it was a birthday party for a three-year-old, the night drew to a close when Noie got tired and cranky. “Don’t want to go to bed,” she wailed, leaning against me.
“Do you want me to sing with you?” I asked, knowing that there was not much worse of a mood killer than a cranky three-year-old girl. It had been her birthday party, which would inevitably end with someone in tears. But in this case, with the memories threatening to choke me, I would rather it be me than her.
“Okay,” she sniffed and yawned, rubbing her eyes.
“You sure?” Gabe mouthed to me over my head.
I nodded.
“Say goodnight and thank you to everyone who came to your birthday party,” Gabe instructed Noie. “I’m going to come in soon, okay?”
“Goodnight,” Noie said, holding up her arms for me to pick her up.
“Goodnight!”
Walking toward her bedroom, I could hear the sounds of everyone getting up and cleaning up the remains of a very pink birthday party.
Changing her into pajamas, I tucked her into bed. “Lie down with me,” she said, patting the little pillow next to her head.
“I don’t think I’ll fit there, darling,” I said, reaching to flip the nightlight on and the main light off.
“Goodnight, little sunshine, little sunshine of mine,” we sang, her fingers wrapped around mine. Leaning over to kiss her, I started to stand up.
“No, don’t leave yet,” she said, her voice sleepy with a slight edge.
“I’m right here, baby,” I whispered, watching her cuddle with her new baby doll, feeling the ever-present lump return. “I’m not going anywhere.”
Leaning over, I rested my head next to hers, feeling her soft little hand pat my hair while we both drifted off.
Chapter · Twelve
Someone was moving me. Struggling to open my eyes, I could feel the soft rocking motion of being carried. I was in someone’s arms. Sawdust and sunshine.
“Gabe?” I whispered, half asleep.
“Shh,” he shushed, his arms tightening around me. “Go back to sleep.”
I felt myself sinking into a mattress that smelled like sawdust and sunshine.
Half asleep, I felt Noie’s little body curl itself against mine. “Sleep, Mama,” she whispered. “Me and Devi are gonna stay here with you.”
The sun was shining down on me when I finally cracked my eyes open.
Where was I? Snuggling back into the warm covers, I realized I didn’t care where I was. I was surrounded by the comforting smells of man in a bed I could gladly crawl into without ever climbing back out of.
The door opening had me struggling to sit up.
“Good morning, Sleeping Beauty,” Gabe said, leaning against the doorway, a heck of a lot more dressed than I was.
“What time is it?” I mumbled, rubbing my eyes, still fighting the urge to roll over and go back to sleep.
“Nine-thirty,” he said. “I just dropped off Noie at my mom’s and I’m going to work in around forty-five minutes.”
Yanking the covers closer to my chin, I remembered that even though he was standing there in a suit, I was only wearing a T-shirt. “Just wanted to see if you were awake,” he said. “Feel free to take a shower. I left out some of Sam’s stuff for you if you want. I’m putting up a pot of coffee, if you want any.”
“Thanks,” I said, watching him leave the room.
What was I doing in Gabe’s bed?
Then I remembered last night. The birthday party. Putting Noie to sleep, and falling asleep with her. Did I sleepwalk into his bed last night? I wondered, panicking. I didn’t. He would have said something, wouldn’t he?
Climbing out of bed, I headed for the shower, eager to try to wake myself up. The steam from the water fogged up the mirrors, and I slowly stripped and climbed in.
It was a magical shower. Standing there, I let the water wash over me as I thought about what had happened yesterday. It was Noie’s birthday today, I remembered. She was three now for real.
I smiled absently at the thought. April was a good month to be born in. It was when Devi was born…
A hand grabbed my throat as I realized what day it was. What day yesterday had been.
April 15th.
I couldn’t believe I didn’t remember.
I couldn’t believe that I hadn’t thought about it at all. And with that panicked thought, suddenly, I was reliving the whole day from hell all over again.
I couldn’t breathe.
Crumpling down to the floor of the shower, I started sobbing. Deep, gut-wrenching sobs, every one of them a stab in the heart. Reliving every horrible second of that day. I couldn’t do this. I knew I hadn’t gotten better. I knew I hadn’t been able to run away from it all.
The voices haunted me.
Tormented me.
The screeching sounds of tires. The screams as we turned over and over. The snap of bones. The labored breathing, the whimpers. The feeling of being trapped, and not being able to save anyone. The sirens. So many sirens. They weren’t stopping.
“No!” I screamed, covering my ears, trying to block out the sounds. “No! Ravi! Devi! No!”
The sounds only grew louder. I couldn’t make them stop. I hadn’t been able to stop it. Oh, God, why did it have to happen? What had we done to deserve it? Why did I have to relive it, over and over and over again?
The door splintered as Gabe rushed in. I barely noticed he was there; I was so wrapped up in my misery. Sobbing uncontrollably, I rocked back and forth, the shower water mixing with my tears.
“Maddie, what’s wrong?” he asked me, bending over, not caring about his suit. “What happened?”
It felt like it had been years since I last cried—and all of that was being made up for now. My sobs grew louder, trying to overpower the memories that were threatening to suffocate me.
Shutting the water off with a snap, he knelt in the bathtub in front of me. “Baby, what happened?” he asked, worry still clouding his eyes.
Tears streaming down my cheeks, not giving a damn that I was naked, not caring that it was the wrong thing to say, knowing it would change everything, I looked up at him.
“Hold me,” I whispered.
Reaching down, he scooped me up into his arms, grabbed a towel, and walked toward his bed. “Maddie, what’s wrong?” he asked again, sinking down onto his bed, still holding me.
The tears wouldn’t stop. “I forgot,” I sobbed, burying my face into his neck. Knowing this was a bad idea, and too broken-hearted to care. “I forgot, Gabe.”
“What did you forget?” he asked, stroking my back.
I shook my head, unable to answer. How could I have forgotten? Cuddling closer to him, I let myself cry for the years I missed them. For the overwhelming grief that was threatening to strangle me. For not letting myself grieve before. For all the years of pretending that I was okay.
I wasn’t okay. I wasn’t. I wasn’t.
I don’t know how long we lay there, my sobs soaking his shirt, him rocking me gently. “It’s going to be okay, baby,” he whispered, stroking my wet hair and dropping a kiss on my forehead. “It’s going to be okay.”
Closing my eyes, I felt the tears slow down and a wave of exhaustion washed over me-—the one that so often follows crying your eyes out. “Sorry,” I sniffled into his neck, not wanting to look up.
“Why are you sorry?” he asked, shifting to the side so we were lying next to each other.
“For getting you all wet,” I said.
Then I realized what I sa
id.
And what I was wearing, or lack thereof.
Turning to bury my head in the pillow, I grabbed his covers and tried to slide underneath. “It’s a little late for that,” he said, laughing but helping me tuck myself in. “I already saw.”
My cheeks heated up, and buried my head into the pillow.
“I’m sorry,” I repeated.
Feeling his hand stroke down my back, I turned my head toward him. “Do you want to talk about it?” he asked, nearly killing me with his compassion.
I took a deep, shuddering breath.
“Not really,” I whispered. “But I probably should.”
Scooting over, he propped himself up on an arm and looked at me.
“I got pregnant at fifteen,” I started, focusing on the patterns of the blanket. “I had been dating Ravi since I was thirteen, and my parents didn’t know. They would have lost it if they found out. I loved him, even though my parents told me that he wasn’t good enough for me. And that was just with them thinking we were only friends. He was. I wasn’t good enough for him. He was seventeen when I got pregnant. A condom broke. We both freaked out when we found out, but it never dawned on either of us to abort the baby until my parents found out.”
I swallowed hard, remembering that day. “I thought my dad was going to kill me. I had never seen him so mad. My mom was pissed. Not just pissed—she was furious, because me getting pregnant at fifteen and the dad is some middle-class Indian kid? I was an embarrassment to her—and she told me that, over and over. That I was an embarrassment and she wished she never had me.”
It still hurt.
“They kicked me out of the house, and Ravi and I moved into a tiny little apartment. We both quit school and took our GEDs, and found jobs. Devi was born seven months later. His family wasn’t really that thrilled either, but once they met Devi… nobody could resist her. We were so happy, Gabe,” I whispered. “The three of us in a tiny little rundown apartment in the middle of Harlem. Ravi was a painter and a songwriter. He worked for a contractor, painting walls. At night, he’d come home and sing Devi to sleep. I started going to college at night, and worked as a cleaning lady, bringing Devi with me, or leaving her at Ravi’s parent’s house.”