“I know the difference.”
“I think you must be exaggerating.”
An orderly comes in with a plastic tray and sets it on Gavin’s lap. She opens the lid, and a hospital food smell flops out. Jell-O and microwaved chicken.
Gavin lies and stares at the ceiling, tears spilling down his cheeks. “She was screaming. I felt it.” The orderly raises her eyebrows at Liam. Gavin sees it.
When she leaves, Liam paces the room. He takes his phone out of his pocket, then puts it back. “So, it was happening, then it got nasty, right? You had a fight?”
I STARTED IT. PUSHED HER DOWN.
“I don’t think you know what you’re saying.”
I KNOW EXACTLY WHAT I’M SAYING. Gavin shudders and wraps his arms around himself. The food smells like he will eat it.
“Don’t do this to yourself. You’re probably still in shock.”
Gavin backhands the tray to the floor. “This isn’t about me!” Red Jell-O cubes splat into red Jell-O blobs.
Liam takes hold of him. “Gavin, listen to me. The doctors want to do a psych evaluation on you. Once they fill out those forms, that’s it—you’re committed and you can’t leave. Is that what you want?”
Gavin remembers Candace in rehab with the ping-pong table and the juice fridge. He shrugs, angry. It would be a kind of jail.
A nurse comes running, and Liam lets go of Gavin. “He was trying to sit up and knocked the tray off.” Liam gives Gavin a deliberate look. “It was an accident.”
“I’ll have them bring a new one,” the nurse says, her face unreadable. Businesslike. She leans over Gavin so her breasts are right in his face, then wraps her arms around him to lift his upper body while she pushes a button on the bed to move it into a sitting position. She arranges pillows behind his shoulders and closes his hospital gown behind him where it came open at his neck, then reaches down, tucking in his sheets. “Better?”
Gavin’s chest feels hollow and heavy, like he could rip his own arm off and still not feel anything. “Yes. Much better.”
She pauses in mid-bend to stare at him. “You’re deaf?” she asks, signing at the same time. “My son is deaf, but he doesn’t lip read. Where did you learn that?”
A deaf son? Gavin fingerspells O-N-T-A-R-I-O. He signs, I went to deaf school.
The nurse nods, interested. “I wish my son could have something like that. He’s the only kid in his school who’s deaf, and he has a translator who sits with him. It’s hard.”
Gavin’s hands remember signing, how much faster and cleaner even Signed English is than all the lip reading and writing. How beautiful. He will be a strong person at the end. Deaf people are always strong people.
The nurse puts her hand on her chest, touched. “You know, I wouldn’t normally say this, but could I bring my son to meet you? There are so few people in his life he can sign with, and he could really use a role model.”
Gavin looks at the splattered food on the floor, then at Liam nodding. A role model. It would be nice to really talk to someone, even if he is a kid. Maybe especially if he’s a kid. Yes. I would love to meet your son.
The earnestness on her face makes Gavin want to weep. “I can bring him after school. His name is Justin. He’s fifteen.” She nods her head towards the mess. “Someone will be right in to clean that up.” She squeezes Gavin’s hand before she goes.
Liam steps over the spilled tray. “See? You don’t need the psych ward. You just need to get out of Marla’s basement.”
Gavin glances at his pad. What he wrote about Dani is still open on the bedside table. “You don’t believe me.”
“I believe there’s a problem. Stay with me.”
Gavin wants to do the right thing, but there is so much inertia. The wallowing is what he wants, what he’s feeding off of. It pulls at him, tempting him. He could lie in the psych ward on a scratchy couch watching daytime TV and eating hospital toast, signing to a psychiatrist all day. But there are other ways to punish himself. He nods. “Okay. I’ll come.”
Marla decides to let Dani sleep it off before asking her what the fuck is going on. She tucks her into bed, removes all the pills from her room and sets the microwave timer for six hours. It counts down the seconds as the clouds bunch up. It’s going to rain again.
Thanks to Gavin, Marla’s house is now perfectly organized and sorted except for her room and his. It feels fake, like no one real lives here, but also full of spaces that are calm and clean. Something he couldn’t keep up.
Marla is suddenly certain that if she can finish what he started, he will be all right. She rips the clothes out of her closet and stuffs half of them at random into garbage bags to donate. She bins up books she’s not going to read, an old computer that barely works, her old phone, unused photo albums Elise gave her: donate. She throws out loads of paper—old bills, grocery lists, movie ticket stubs from her first dates with Liam. Removes dirty plates and plastic bottles. She keeps her high school poetry binders and the drawing of a werewolf Liam gave her as a gift. She stores them high in the closet.
This puts her eye level with the baby stuff she’s accumulated: presents from work, a box of newborn diapers, little hats, the stuff Marla’s neighbour saved from when her daughter was a baby, Gavin’s wooden blocks, bibs, and a baby bathtub. It’s so much stuff it doesn’t fit on one shelf anymore. She removes the box of diapers to donate, but feels wrong about it. Why shouldn’t her baby wear these? Would it be wrong to give someone a baby and baby presents? Marla remembers Cynthia saying Marla would be like an aunt. An auntie might bring presents, right? Maybe.
Marla takes all the items out one by one on the pretext of packing them into a box to give away. However, she doesn’t have a box, nor does she get one. Marla finds herself playing with them, stroking them, laying little outfits in rows on the bed and smoothing down wrinkles. Tying the bow on a lacy bonnet. She assembles a plastic push toy and pushes it around the room on her knees, flipping the flaps and pressing the buttons, surprising herself with how satisfying it is. She opens the diaper box, takes out a newborn diaper, and opens it up. It smells like a baby, or what she imagines a baby smells like. Baby-powdery. Soft. She holds the diaper to her cheek and brushes it alongside, closing her eyes. That feeling happens again, and a bloom appears on the front of her shirt.
Marla abruptly stuffs the diaper back in the box, but it won’t sit the way it was before, factory-packed in shrink-wrap. This isn’t something she talked about with Cynthia. The diaper bunches out of the hole Marla ripped in the plastic, looking crumpled and used.
She told herself once she chose adoption the hardest part was over but no one thought about this closet full of guilt. Marla grabs garbage bags and starts stuffing. It takes three bags, one just of teddies and blankets people made by hand. She puts the bags in the donation pile, but they look so lumpy and sad Marla changes her mind. She piles them on the floor of her closet and shuts the door.
She can’t stop now. Marla reaches under the bed with the broom, and when that doesn’t prove satisfactory, she heaves the bedframe around the room to clean the rest of the floor. She pushes hard, feeling good to be so physical, so strong and clean.
After everything is immaculate, Marla can see dust scattered in the air. She lies on her bed watching the drizzle on the windowpane, deliberately not thinking about Gavin or adoption or anything, and falls asleep.
When the timer dings, Marla rustles Dani awake and hands her four pills. “Crush these. You’re going to baby class with me.”
Dani salutes and snorts the pills. “I thought you’d never ask.”
“Bring a pillow.”
Dani licks her fingers. “Awesome. Do I get to massage you?”
Marla holds the door open for Dani. “You better.”
Dani kicks a stone on the way to the bus stop, making a few good ones before stumbling, her eyes half open. Marla takes it t
he rest of the way, winding up and aiming it right at the bench. It bounces off and scrabbles into the long grass.
She can’t wait any longer. “What was with the bat?”
Dani waves this off like it’s nonsense. Like she wasn’t a shivering mess this morning. “Don’t worry about it.” She picks at her nails, watching now and then for the bus to come.
“You were extra fucked up.”
Dani stands up as the bus rounds the corner, steadying herself against the back of the bench. She gives Marla a look like Marla’s boring her. “Call it a bad night. It’s over.”
Marla knows she can press Dani more than other people can, but, looking at the bruise on Dani’s jaw, she’s not sure if she wants to. On the bus, Marla sits on her pillow and drums her feet against the wheel well. “Did you get Gavin high?”
Dani stares out the window and doesn’t look at Marla. “Only pot.”
“You guys got physical?”
Dani shrugs, still not looking at Marla. “You could say that.”
“So, Gavin did something? I really wouldn’t have thought—”
Dani faces Marla, grabbing her wrists. “Look, everything’s peachy. I’m completely back in action now, ready to be your labour breathing support person extraordinaire.”
“Um, okay.” They stand up to get off. “So, you’re good, Gavin’s good?”
“I’m not speaking for him.” Dani has the tiniest hint of a frown, just for a second. “I’m fine,” she says firmly.
In class, the instructor lists pain medications for labour. Dani raises her hand repeatedly, talking too loud. “You don’t need that shit, ladies. If I can push out a baby, so can you.” The other moms-to-be are listening. They’re all first-timers, most of them oldish with husbands. One young woman with her gay friend.
The baby class lady forges on, talking about medical emergencies and showing how big ten centimeters really is with a piece of PVC pipe.
“Those are just scare tactics. Labour isn’t going to kill you.” Dani looks at Marla. “It’s the rest of life that does that.”
The instructor hates Dani, and tells her so at the break. “Please keep your opinions to yourself.”
Dani’s not fazed. “Or what? You’ll kick me out?” Marla was proud of Dani in the class, but now, in her oversized hoody and her hair spray, Dani looks cheap, like someone you know will waste a lot of time.
Marla pulls her aside. “Just be quiet, okay?”
Dani rolls her eyes, but she stops interrupting. The instructor talks about bathing babies and breastfeeding. How to burp. Each woman is given her own doll to practise diapering. The doll is weighted and lifelike with a head that flops horribly on the table. The doll’s lips are puckered like it might smile.
Marla tries to get the diaper on, but it’s upside down, so Dani puts her hands on Marla’s, helping her lift the baby and slide the diaper out to flip it around. “Like this, Marla,” she says, softly.
Marla strokes the doll’s onesie, runs a finger along its head. Feels like real hair.
The instructor honks out a laugh. “If you leave your baby lying like that, you might get the golden shower!”
Dani gets right up in the instructor’s face and whispers in a harsh, low voice. “Be nice to her. She’s planning an adoption.” Marla hears the word bounce around the room. It feels like everyone in the class is staring.
She puts her hand over the baby’s face and turns away. “I can’t do this.”
The instructor is quick to butt in. “No, of course, I mean, I had no idea—”
“No.” Dani’s voice is firm and her arms are strong as she steers Marla to face the infant. “Pick her up. See what she feels like in your arms.”
Marla knows this will start a wobble in the fine balance she’s achieved of not thinking too much about anything, but she slides her forearm under the baby’s head anyway and wraps her other arm around the tiny body. She’s surprised by how heavy she is, and her forearm quivers. She holds the baby tighter to her chest. There’s a part of her that wants this, the weight of a child. She cradles the baby’s head, staring into its glass eyes.
Dani squeezes the baby’s foot. She whispers to Marla, “See. You know what to do. Don’t let them tell you that you don’t.”
Marla drops the doll on the table. It makes a thunking sound, then rests with its legs splayed. “Don’t do this to me, Dani.”
“What? Believe in you?”
“Mess this up. I have to get through this.” The rest of the moms only pretend to diaper their babies. The young mom has her mouth open like a whale ready to swallow everyone.
Marla puts her warm hands on her belly. She tries to use a big voice, but it only comes as a whisper. “I’m making a brave choice.”
Dani nods, slowly. “Oh, shit, Marla,” she says, and puts her hands over Marla’s. Dani drops her head, tears in her eyes, which Marla hasn’t seen in years.
“What is it?” Marla uses her body to shield Dani from the instructor, who is hovering like she wants to make it all better.
“It’s just—I’m sorry, you know?” Dani faces the rest of the class and points to Marla. “I look up to this woman.” She holds onto Marla, and her breath hitches in Marla’s ear. The last part comes out kind of choked up. “You’re so much braver than I was.”
The young mom nearest Dani pats Marla’s shoulder. Her friend wraps his arms around both of them, and Marla feels everything slow down.
Women leave their plastic babies on tables and bump into Marla and Dani, soft and quiet and strong, until Marla is in a cave of love, encircled.
15. CHICKEN
JUSTIN IS TALL in an awkward way, with expensive clothes and a straight-brimmed hat like the little thugs in Belleville. Gavin can tell by the way he stands away from the bed, looking at the chair, that he is nervous.
He uses Signed English haltingly. “My mom … spoke … you deaf.”
Gavin shakes his hand. Pleasure to meet you, Justin. He fingerspells his name. I’m G A V I N.
Justin gestures to the bandages on Gavin’s head. “What … wrong … with … you?”
Broke my ankle. No sense burdening a kid.
“On purpose?”
And there’s no sense being dishonest. Yeah. Attempted suicide.
Justin comes closer, sits in the chair, taking off his hat. “I tried … too.”
Justin’s mom leans on the doorframe, watching. Gavin likes her for not interrupting, and finding exactly what her son needed.
He’s a nice kid, into drawing and rock climbing. Girls don’t like him yet, and he has no deaf friends. Watching him, Gavin feels ordinary, but in an older way, like he’s seen this part of the show already. He wonders if Justin will find love and then obliterate it. He wonders what kinds of mistakes a person can learn to live with.
Later, Justin leaves for his job at the library shelving books and his mom steps in, thanking Gavin. They make some plans to get together again, and then she says, “Sounds like you’ll be discharged tomorrow. Take care of yourself.”
When Marla and Dani get home, Dave and Elise are waiting outside in their SUV. They clamber out awkwardly, weighed down by shopping bags.
“Oh shit,” Dani says. “I’m out of here.” She scuttles through the gate and in the back door.
Elise rushes up, waving her arms like she’s doing jumping jacks. “Marla, we’re so sorry about Gavin.”
Marla shrugs it off like her only biological family member who’s not regularly in rehab trying to commit suicide is as important as what she ate for breakfast. Otherwise she might start crying again. “He’s fine.”
“We brought some things.”
Right. They want her to let them in. “Why are you bringing stuff here? He’s at the hospital.”
“For you.”
Inside, Marla opens the bags—a bunch of notebooks an
d pencils. A new laptop.
Dave claps his hand on her shoulder. “In case you want to go to school, after all this is over with.”
The delivery wasn’t perfect, but Marla’s impressed by the sentiment. “Wow. Thank you, that’s—”
Dani crashes up the stairs. “Where are they, Marla?”
The pills. “Plastic bag in the toilet tank.”
Elise looks worried, like she might flutter. “Are you getting drugs for her?”
Marla speaks in a hushed voice. “It’s a prescription. There’s this thing with her son.” And then she remembers Dani’s meeting with Kamon. Fuck.
Elise shakes her head. “What a shame. There are so many people out there who really want children.”
Elise obviously did not see Dani meticulously get dressed and put together presents on the last Friday of every month to visit her son. Except for the one day Marla and her dysfunctional brother screwed it up. There’s a flicker in the hallway that Marla knows is Dani, listening to make sure Marla’s not getting reamed out on her account. Marla sits up straight. She can handle this. “Listen, Dani looks out for me. She even came to baby class.”
Dave nods, impressed. “That’s positive.”
Elise chews the inside of her lip like a dog with no bone. “What about the adoption? Have you found any nice families?”
“A few. We’re meeting another couple tomorrow.”
“I worry this might be too much for you. Are you on track with your timeline?”
Marla takes Elise’s hands. “Yes. I made a list, okay, of things that I can ask for help with— like looking for a job, learning how to cook new recipes—and I can add applying for school. I would love your help, but not with this.”
“We just want what’s best for you.”
“I’m all over it.”
Dani nods in the hallway. Better fucking believe it, she mouths. Marla smiles in acknowledgment, feeling pretty grown up.
Gavin being discharged tomorrow.
Will he see me?
A Handbook for Beautiful People Page 21