by Theresa Shea
“Is it a gift?” the salesclerk asked as she wrapped the outfit in white tissue paper.
“No.”
The clerk smiled knowingly. “It’s your first, isn’t it? New mothers are always the shy ones.”
Elizabeth smiled. Her neck was hot and itchy. She left the store swiftly, the weight in the plastic bag as light as a bird.
At home she emptied a small drawer in the big wooden wardrobe and gently slid the sleeper inside. Its pink perfectness pleased her.
The following month, Elizabeth added a small crocheted tie-dyed hat and a white cotton undershirt that snapped at the crotch. Sometimes, if Ron went out at night, she would lay the clothes and hat out on the bed and busy herself by putting them in different positions.
Thus began her monthly ritual of buying something new and stashing it away. She shopped at different stores so she wouldn’t be recognized. Too soon, the sleepers began to pile up in the drawer. Did she have too many pink? Maybe she needed to add more blue sleepers. Or maybe twins were hovering somewhere on the outer edge of her aura, patiently waiting for her to get the right combination of colours. Or triplets! Two boys and a girl? Two girls and a boy? One of each? How was she to know? Hadn’t she read somewhere that children choose their parents? What more did she need to do to be chosen?
The sleepers piled up. After a few months, she realized she could not keep the baby clothes at home. It was bad luck, a reminder of her previous month’s failure. So she began to dispose of the sleepers in the dumpster behind her shop, where she and her staff threw the remains of flowers that were past their prime.
One afternoon, she stepped out into the back alley with a small pail of flower clippings and stems. It was early July. Dark clouds snagged in the high branches of the old elms on the side avenue. She had already lifted her pail into the air, where it hovered over the garbage inside, when she heard some muttering and paused, afraid that someone might be lying inside the garbage bin. But the noise came from the other side. Elizabeth stared over the bin’s lip and saw the man foraging through a pile of garbage on the ground that he’d removed from the dumpster. He droned to himself, a steady humming that never changed pitch. His long black hair was matted together in greasy clumps. His running shoes, once white, were a dull grey without laces. They were at least two sizes too big for his feet, and they gaped open and flapped as he moved methodically around the navy metal dumpster.
The shop door swung closed loudly behind her and the man looked up, caught in the act. The whites of his eyes were the brightest spot on his face. Held in his filthy, scavenging hands was a tiny pink sleeper, its toes hanging empty and lifeless. Elizabeth’s stomach heaved. “Get the hell out of here!” she yelled. Her body shook with the intensity of her rage. The man dropped the sleeper and took off. She quickly retrieved it and held it tightly to her chest. I’m losing my mind, she thought. Mascara ran down her face in a thin black trail.
EIGHT
2002
Marie busied herself making a new recipe for tuna salad from the cookbook Frances had given to her for Christmas. It seemed to be the easiest recipe in the book. Too many of them called for ingredients she had never heard of before. Umeboshi paste, hijike, tempeh, seitan. Even if she knew what these ingredients were, she had no idea where to find them.
“I know you guys aren’t vegetarians,” Frances had said when Marie opened the gift, “but it’s got some fish recipes in it.” Marie hadn’t had the heart to say she was hoping to get another Best of Bridge, something with some traditional meat recipes in it, or perhaps some new ideas for how to jazz up meat loaf or pork chops. Curry wasn’t really to her taste. “Cinnamon, dill, celery, slivered almonds . . .” It would be satisfying to tell Frances she’d made something from the book.
Nicole and Sophia pulled all the ingredients from the cupboards to make Elizabeth’s favourite cookies. Already the countertop was coated in a light dusting of flour. The girls bumped against her as they raced to the refrigerator for a carton of eggs. Marie swallowed a wave of irritation. It was hard to watch her kids make such a mess. They rarely put things back where they found them, despite her constant reminders.
She watched them crack two eggs into the mixing bowl. Then they got their fingers in there and began pulling out the stray shells. It was too late to ask if they’d washed their hands. Marie bit her tongue when Sophia aimed the mouth of a full bottle of vanilla into a tiny measuring spoon. Miraculously she didn’t spill a drop.
Her stomach growled and she remembered she hadn’t eaten anything besides the crackers that morning in bed. Despite her hunger, she could think of nothing that would sit safely in her stomach.
The tuna rested in a stainless steel bowl on the counter. Accompanying the acrid scent of fish was the tinny smell of the empty cans that had recently housed the fish. Marie swallowed hard and breathed deeply through her mouth. Fish. She wouldn’t be able to escape the smell now. She hated this stage of pregnancy, when every scent was magnified a thousand times over. Even if she went upstairs and shut herself in the bathroom, the room farthest from the kitchen, the smell of tuna would find her there.
Tiny wisps of snow fell from the tree branches outside the kitchen window, dropping to the tree’s base, where a flock of sparrows had left their forked tracks. Marie stared out at the shimmering snow’s surface and reminded herself that it was still minus thirty outside; it was hard to reconcile the abundance of sunshine with such frigid temperatures.
The doorbell rang promptly at noon. “She’s here,” Sophia shouted, trying to get to the door before Nicole. They yanked it open and pulled Elizabeth, laughing, into the house.
“What are you doing home? Isn’t today a school day?” she asked.
“A pipe burst,” Nicole replied. “And it flooded the whole school!”
“We made your favourite cookies,” Sophia interrupted.
“Sophia! ” Nicole whined. “It was supposed to be a surprise!”
“Oh, but I am surprised,” Elizabeth said, diffusing the situation. “I’m surprised you’re home and I’m surprised you made my favourite cookies. Chocolate chip walnut, right?”
“I’ll take your coat.” Marie laughed, rolling her eyes as the girls raced back to the kitchen. “Who knew a water main would break? Hopefully they’ll busy themselves after lunch.”
“Oh, that’s fine,” Elizabeth said. “You know I love to see them.”
“I know,” Marie replied. “But I also love not to see them sometimes! Come on in. The coffee’s on.”
Marie followed Elizabeth into the kitchen, noting how snugly her jeans hugged her slight form.
“I’m glad you’re here,” she said as she handed Elizabeth a cup of coffee. “The days go by so fast. I can’t believe it’s already been a week since we had supper. I swear I wake up and it’s Monday, and I go to bed and it’s Friday.” Marie paused to take a breath, conscious that she was talking too fast. It was a bad habit she’d developed since having kids—the belief that if she talked quickly she might finish a thought before being interrupted. “You look great,” she continued. “I like your hair all one length like that.”
“Slow down.” Elizabeth laughed. “You’re making me nervous. And, yes, I just got it cut last week.”
“Well, it suits you. You look very stylish. As usual.”
Marie envied Elizabeth’s ability to wear straight-legged jeans without looking like she’d been poured into them. Too many women wore them who shouldn’t. When she and Elizabeth were teenagers they’d developed their own code for assessing women’s clothes. If one of them spied someone in an unflattering outfit, she’d surreptitiously elbow the other and quietly say, Somebody lied to her.
“And I like your sweater,” Marie added.
A brief silence followed. The girls had gone downstairs with a cookie in each hand. Instinctively, Marie cocked one ear to listen. “Are you hungry?” she asked. “Frances gave me a new cookbook, and I made some wacky tuna recipe out of it. I hope you’ll like it.”
“Always,” Marie said as she nodded. “Nobody knows how to do things like Frances.”
“It must be hard being right all the time,” Elizabeth said.
“I wouldn’t know.”
“No, me neither.” Elizabeth picked up her coffee and moved to the sitting area beside the kitchen. The leather loveseat sighed softly when she sat down.
“I’ll put the fire on,” Marie said. “This weather makes it impossible to heat the house.” She walked to the fireplace and flicked a switch. Flames immediately appeared around the logs.
Marie nervously searched for a topic of conversation. She never used to have to fill in the silences because there had never been any. Best friends were always comfortable together, even if they didn’t tell each other the truth all the time. Some things just had to be overlooked and forgiven, for the sake of friendship.
No friendship was ever entirely equal—Marie knew that. In all relationships, someone always had the upper hand. In the early years, Marie had been the one in charge; later, though, when boys became interesting, things flipped. She had never told Elizabeth how much it had stung to see the way men’s eyes always slid quickly over Marie’s plump figure to linger on Elizabeth’s lean yet shapely one. In university, when they’d walk into a bar, Marie had seen the raw hopefulness in men’s eyes when they saw Elizabeth, and she’d also seen the shadow of disappointment when they saw her tagging along behind, even though she pulled in her stomach and stood straight to make herself look slimmer. It was hard to be second fiddle all the time, to be the one men settled for but didn’t really seek out. It certainly hadn’t helped when Elizabeth had ended up with Ron.
But Marie had sucked it up because that’s what friends do. Isn’t it? Every friendship had its small jealousies and irritations. And sometimes the tables turned and the person who’d always been doing the envying was suddenly the one who was envied. It happened that way when Marie had her children. Then it was Elizabeth’s turn to suck it up.
“Aren’t you having any coffee?” Elizabeth asked.
“No, not now.” Marie dropped her gaze and felt her friend’s eyes studying her.
“You look kind of tired. Are you sleeping well?” Elizabeth asked. “You’ve got circles around your eyes. How’s work?”
“Work’s fine.” Marie shrugged. “You know, the same old stuff. I’m sure you don’t want to hear about accounting. I certainly don’t.” She had completed a course by correspondence, working on it when the girls were in school. It certainly wasn’t a passion of hers. In truth, she’d never really had a strong desire to do anything. Not like her sister, for example, who had always been driven and already had two degrees.
Having children had freed her from finding the perfect career. What a relief that had been. But even when her kids were small, the idea that she would be expected to go back to work one day was a black cloud on the horizon.
Now, sitting with her third child growing inside of her, she wondered if she could buy another ten years at home with this baby. By then she’d be forty-nine, almost ready to retire. The thought did not bring much relief.
“Are you okay, Marie?”
Marie startled. How beautiful Elizabeth looked with her dark hair fanned gently off of her face, her lipstick perfectly highlighting her complexion. No wonder the boys had always been drawn to her.
“Yeah, I’m fine. Sorry, I was somewhere else there for a minute.” She leaned back and put her feet up on the coffee table. Sunlight filtered in from the kitchen window illuminating the wood floor in wide shafts. The clock ticked loudly on the wall above the sink where the smell of tuna hung like fog over the countertops.
“I was just sitting here thinking that you look a bit piqued,” Elizabeth said. “A bit green around the gills, if you know what I mean. It seems to me that I’ve seen that look on you before.”
Marie made eye contact before quickly looking away.
“Are you sure you’re feeling okay?”
Marie nodded again.
“Look at me.”
Marie lifted her chin to be examined.
“I’ve got a funny feeling something’s going on here,” Elizabeth said. “And from the look of things, I’m going to take a wild guess.” She gave Marie the once-over with her eyes. “You’re pregnant, aren’t you?”
The air escaped from Marie’s lungs. It was an accident, she wanted to say. I didn’t do it on purpose.
“And you’re not even bloated or bruised from trying.” Elizabeth shook her head. “Lucky you.”
“I’m sorry, Elizabeth,” she whispered.
Elizabeth turned away and stared outside the sliding glass door to where sparrows flitted in and out of the densely gnarled hedge.
“What are you sorry about?”
I’m sorry it’s not you. “I don’t know. I’m just feeling like I’ve messed up.” Marie splayed her hands out onto her thighs. “I think I’m a little old for an unplanned pregnancy, don’t you?”
They sat quietly for a moment. From downstairs came the sound of the television and the girls’ laughter.
“Remember when you found out you were pregnant with Sophia and I’d been trying for two years to get pregnant, without any luck?”
Marie nodded. A cloud passed before the sun and the room fell into shadows.
“And do you remember what you said? You said, ‘Am I going to have to stop seeing you for nine months?’ As if we could have gone nine days without seeing each other!”
Marie smiled weakly. But something had changed once she’d had the girls. They still talked on the phone regularly, but sometimes months went by and they didn’t see each other. “I’m sorry,” she repeated. “I can’t help it. It’s just not fair. I know you’ve always been happy for me, but I can’t help thinking that it should be you.”
The sun came out again and the room grew to twice its size.
“When’s the baby due?” Elizabeth asked.
“Late August, early September.”
The phone rang. Relieved, Marie jumped to her feet and ran across the kitchen to the desk against the far wall.
“Sorry,” she said, returning a minute later. “That was Frances. Again. She says to say hi.”
“How’s she doing?”
“Well, you know Frances. She says she’s fine, but I don’t think she’d tell me otherwise. I think she’s finding it a challenge being home alone all day with Max, especially since Craig is back at work full-time. As you know, Frances likes to be in control, and one thing being a mother teaches you is how little control you really have. If you don’t like a job, you can quit. If you’re unhappy in your marriage, you can get a divorce. But you can’t walk away from your kids. Once you have them, you’re stuck with them.” Marie ended abruptly, suddenly self-conscious. Her friend looked ready to bolt from the house.
“Not stuck exactly but . . .” She’d done it now—delivered a double blow to Elizabeth. Upper cut one—her birth mother had given her up. Kidney blow two—she’d never had her own children. “Lunch should be ready,” she said hurriedly, hoping to hide her gaffes.
She felt lighter now; her breath came more easily. What a relief that Elizabeth had guessed. How much easier than trying to find the right words.
She sliced thick pieces of bread from the whole loaf and set them aside on the cutting board. Bickering voices rose from downstairs and become more shrill. Mom! Marie walked over and closed the door to the basement. Let them fight their own battles, she thought.
“How’s Ron?” she asked.
Elizabeth pulled out one of the stools next to the island and sat down. “Well . . . funny you should ask.” Then she told Marie that she’d signed a lease on a downtown apartment that morning.
“I’m not looking for any advice,” she added. “I have no idea if I’m doing the right thing or not. Who knows, maybe I’m even making more of a mess of things. All I know is that I just need some time on my own
to figure out what I should do with the next phase of my life.”
Marie buried her face in the refrigerator to hide her shock. Thirty years of friendship! Is this what it resulted in? Neither of them had ever made any big decisions without consulting the other first. Yet Elizabeth was leaving her husband and had signed a lease on an apartment? She blinked back tears as she mashed the tuna onto the bread before adding sliced tomatoes and lettuce.
“And wait until you see the view! I think that’s why I took the apartment, because it looks south, over the river valley. Right now the river’s frozen, of course, but it’ll be especially lovely in the fall when the leaves are turning. And I’ll be able to walk to work. That’ll be nice. It’s only about twelve blocks.”
“How’s Ron handling this?”
“I haven’t told him yet.”
“You haven’t told him?”
Elizabeth winced. “I know. I wanted to tell him yesterday, but I just couldn’t. I don’t want to hurt him,” she added, “but I just can’t stay in that house right now.”
“But you love that house. You’ve worked hard to fix it up. What’s changed?”
“I worked hard to get it ready for a family. It was supposed to be a family home.”
“Can’t you and Ron be a family?”
“We’re a couple, not a family. There’s a huge piece missing, and sometimes I feel like that house just mocks me. It’s an old house. Who knows how many babies might have been born in it. Healthy babies. Happy babies. Stupid, isn’t it? Anyway, I’ll tell Ron. Probably tonight. Signing that lease certainly gives me the incentive.”
Marie tried to imagine how he’d take the news. She hadn’t seen him in some time, mostly because she didn’t see as much of Elizabeth anymore either.
“Well, I guess there’s no more putting it off,” she said.
Elizabeth didn’t appear to register the pain in Marie’s voice; she had returned to the sliding doors and was once again staring into the backyard. Her figure was a dark skeleton in the full sunlight. “The apartment’s empty right now, so I can start moving in any time.”