by MJ Howson
The woman hurried off, weaving past people as she tried to get as far away as she could.
Dawn smiled, ignoring the people watching her. She leaned into the carriage and tucked the blanket tighter around Eve. The doll’s eyes slowly closed. Dawn brushed her fingers against Eve’s hair, straightened the doll’s bow, and said, “What a rude woman.”
Dawn adjusted her scarf and sunglasses, grabbed the stroller’s handlebar, and continued north toward Hudson Yards. She held her head high, happy she’d gotten the courage to speak up and defend Eve.
“I hope the line’s not long at Mercado Little Spain, Eve,” Dawn said. “I need to get you home and then to my therapy session.”
“Take me with you.”
“Take you?” Dawn tried to picture herself bursting into the doctor’s office with Eve in tow. “No. Not yet. I . . . I feel like the doctor doesn’t want you there. But soon.”
∞∞∞
Dr. Cole scratched his beard as he reviewed his notes. His session with Dawn was almost over. The top of his notepad read Easton-D 10/18/19 #10. Dr. Cole frowned as he went through the topics he’d intended to cover, realizing they’d gone off on far too many tangents once again. After ten sessions, he felt progress was still too slow. Although Dawn showed some improvement, they’d yet to get to the root cause of her desire for not just a child but a child with Jacob. The ticking wall clock seemed louder than normal this morning, making it difficult for him to concentrate. Suddenly, the radiator beneath the window began to clank as it filled with steam.
“I’d like to shift gears and talk a bit about your father,” Dr. Cole said. “Would that be okay?”
“Why?” Dawn asked as she glanced at her watch. “The session’s almost over.”
“You said your father had a bad accident, and his death is what sent your mother to focus on her business and not you. You’ve avoided discussing the details of his accident with me. I’d like to better understand what happened.”
“He fell.”
Dr. Cole glanced at his notepad and then at the whirring Panasonic recorder. He said, “It must have been a bad fall to kill him.”
“He . . . fell from . . . from the terrace.”
“Terrace?” Dr. Cole leaned back in his chair. “How. . . how high was it?”
“We were living on the thirtieth floor. The penthouse.”
Dr. Cole sighed and lowered his head, staring at a folder with prior session notes. He moistened his index finger and then flipped through the pages. He asked, “Why didn’t you reveal this earlier?”
“If I’d told you he committed suicide, you would–”
“Suicide? Dawn, my God, why on earth–”
“See! You’re about to judge me. I’m not the least bit suicidal. I’ve told you that before.”
“There’s no need to get defensive.” Dr. Cole leaned back in his chair, the springs groaning in protest. He waited for his state of shock to subside. “How a parent dies makes a difference, especially if it involved suicide.”
“I’m sorry. I don’t see how it matters. It wasn’t like I was a child or anything. I was twenty-two.” Dawn fidgeted in her chair, nervously twisting her watch and twirling her scarf through her fingers. “My mom couldn’t deal with the aftermath. She became so distant. It . . . it drove her away.”
Dr. Cole scratched his beard and scanned through his notes. When done reviewing them, he said, “You told me your mother became distant because she got lost in running the company.”
“What?”
“You said after your dad died, she threw herself into her work.”
“I did?” Dawn’s eyes searched the room before settling on her clutched fingers. “Well, yes. At first. But she couldn’t run the company. The board eventually took control away from her. A bunch of greedy old men if you want to know the truth.”
“I see.” Dr. Cole glanced at his notes and then the clock on the wall. “Where’s your mother today?”
“She went away. Like I’ve told you before, we haven’t spoken in forever.”
“Haven’t spoken?” Dr. Cole flipped through his notes. “You told me your mother was your hero. But now you say she became distant and went away. Where did she go?”
“Just away. To be with . . . friends. She . . . she had to get out of the city. We’d moved to a different building after my dad’s death. She couldn’t look at that terrace without thinking of him.”
“And you never speak with her?”
“No.”
“Why?”
“You’d have to ask her.” Dawn looked at her watch and sighed. “Time’s up.”
“For now.” Dr. Cole presented a supportive smile. “But I’m going to want to discuss this in more detail next time.”
“Sure.” Dawn stood up and grabbed her coat.
“Dawn, before you go, I want to confirm you’re still taking your medication.”
“Yes, why?”
“They’re an important part of your treatment.”
“I take them every night.”
“What about your dreams? The nightmare where you chased your daughter down the hallway. Those haven’t returned, have they? The voices?”
“Not since I got Eve. I told you, I’ve been sleeping wonderfully.”
“Okay. Okay, good. I just wanted to be sure.”
Dr. Cole turned off the recorder. The old Panasonic unit shuddered as the motor disengaged. His desk suddenly vibrated. The buzz from his cellphone in the top drawer caused the Trust plaque to resonate loudly.
“That’s very annoying,” Dawn said.
“I’m sorry. The phone’s old and rather beat up. The vibrate function is broken.”
“Give it to me. I can show–”
“No. That’s not necessary.”
Dawn stood beside the desk, looking down at Dr. Cole. His stomach was pressed against the top drawer, and his arms covered his notepad.
“I guess I’ll see you next week,” Dawn said.
“See you then. Please confirm the appointment with my wife.”
Dawn nodded, turned, and left the office, closing the door behind her.
Dr. Cole hit the rewind button on the cassette deck. He then opened his desk drawer and grabbed his red-cased phone. As he raised the cellphone, a series of notifications appeared across its shattered screen. He slid the phone into his pocket and walked to the door, placing his ear against it. Dr. Cole could make out Dawn and Flo setting up her next appointment. He waited until he heard Dawn leave. Dr. Cole opened the door and stuck his head out.
“Hungry?” Flo asked.
“Very.”
“How’d your session go? She’s looking good. Well, other than her hair.”
“It was . . . troubling. She continues to tell me things she should have revealed long ago. I’m becoming very concerned that . . . .” Dr. Cole paused to consider Flo’s comment. “What do you mean she looked good?”
“Her makeup. That’s the first time I’ve seen her wear any all year.”
“Really? I didn’t notice.”
Luna paced across the top of his wife’s desk. Flo tried to brush the cat aside so she could see her computer screen. The tabby resisted, forcing Flo to place the cat on the floor. She looked at the display screen and said, “Your calendar’s clear for the next two hours. I was thinking we could take a walk somewhere for lunch.”
“Okay.”
“It’s a bit chilly today. Winter will be here before you know it.” Flo sighed and stared out the window. Her eyes glossed over as a smile spread across her face. “I still can’t believe this will be our last winter in New York.”
“We’ll be in Florida before you know it. I’ll be writing my book, and you’ll be . . . what?”
“Having cocktails by the pool.” Flo chuckled, and her husband soon joined in the laugher. She stopped abruptly and said, “We still have to pick a place, Winston. Are we settling near the beach? And if so, are we doing the Gulf side or the Atlantic? Or do we hit one of those retirement com
munities like The Villages?”
“We can debate the pros and cons on our way to lunch. Just give me a few minutes to file things away.”
Dr. Cole closed the door, quietly turning the lock. He went back to his desk and removed the phone from his pocket. He then flopped in his chair and stared at the notifications.
Am I ready? Dr. Cole asked himself.
Twenty Four
Tina
Dawn stared at the prescription bottles resting on the vanity in her bathroom. Just the sight of them spiked her anxiety level. She looked away and instead focused on her reflection in the mirror. Dawn rather liked the shocking contrast her natural hair color imparted and still wondered if she should dye it all black. She opened her prescription bottles and emptied the pills into the palm of her hand. Dawn flicked off the light, carrying her pills and glass of water into her bedroom.
Eve sat propped up on the bed, resting against one of the king-sized pillows, her eyes staring ahead. Dawn walked to the other side of the bed and placed her glass on the nightstand.
“You should be glad you don’t have to take these things,” Dawn said, staring at the pills in her hand. “I’ve been on this new combo of meds for over a month. When I read the side effects, it just makes me more anxious. I didn’t need these before the miscarriage.”
“Don’t take them,” Eve said.
“You want me to stop?” Dawn flopped onto the edge of her mattress, her shoulders hung low. “I’m doing so much better. But I often wonder if it’s because of you, not the doctor. I . . . I don’t know. He says I’m improving. He says it’s the meds. I’m just not sure.”
“Don’t trust him.”
Dawn turned and looked at Eve and asked, “Do you think he’s like Caretaker? The one in your diary?” Dawn stared at the pills in her palm. “The doctor wants what’s best for me. But so did Caretaker. You . . . you didn’t trust her, did you?”
Eve sat in silence, not responding.
“Did Caretaker betray you?” Dawn waited, but Eve just sat there. “Tell me, Eve. I told you to trust me.” Dawn waited patiently for several seconds. She bit her lip and asked, “Will the doctor betray me?”
Dawn glanced at Eve and then at her pills. She grabbed the glass of water beside her bed and washed the medicine down. As the pills slid down her throat she couldn’t help but feel as if she’d disappointed Eve. Dawn slid from the mattress and dropped to her knees. She felt beneath the bed for the old cedar-lined jewelry box, opened it, and retrieved her fertility pills. She took a pill and returned the bottle to the box, tossing it on the corner of the mattress. Dawn downed the medication with her water.
“Read my diary,” Eve said.
“What, you don’t want to read about the latest art exhibits?” Dawn stared at the worn leather diary resting on the nightstand. She picked up the book and flipped it open. Dawn ran her fingers through the sections with gaps, her fingertips brushing against the jagged edges of the binding. “I wonder where the rest of your story went.” She glanced at Eve. “Do you know?”
“Read my diary.”
“All right, already.” Dawn tossed her sheets back and dove beneath them. “You’re getting very demanding young lady.” Dawn sighed as she flipped through the tattered pages, searching for where she last left off. “Last time was all about Billy. Who’s next?”
∞∞∞
October 2, 2012
Eve looked at Tina, flopped in her lumpy bed next to Eve’s. Tina stared wide-eyed at Suzie, who was busy admiring herself in her handheld mirror. Poor Suzie struggled to see her reflection due to the dim light coming from the overhead chandelier. Still, she did her best to adjust her twisted-up bun. Hugo, oblivious to the three girls in their beds, licked olive green frosting from his fingers. As with each birthday party, Hugo had managed to take an extra slice of cake back to bed.
A chill filled the bedroom this evening. The high-mounted windows whistled from the wind buffeting against them as the nearby radiator hissed. Eve tucked her diary beneath her pillow and pulled her red flannel sheets closer. She rolled to her side to face Tina.
“Hey,” Eve said. “Another lame birthday party, huh?”
“Estuvo bien,” Tina said. She looked at Eve’s furrowed brow. “It was fine.” She pulled herself upright, pulling the drab green flannel blanket closer to her chin. “I’m just glad I’m finally going home.”
“Sure.” Eve looked over at Hugo. He’d finished his cake and was now a big lump beneath his blankets. You could barely hear the sound of his PEZ dispenser clicking, followed by Hugo munching on the sweet candy. Eve asked Tina, “So, um, what’s the first thing you’re going to do when you get out?”
Tina glanced at Suzie, smiled, and said, “Find Billy.”
“What?” Suzie asked. She lowered her mirror and frowned. “Why?”
“Before he left I gave him my number,” Tina said. “He doesn’t live far from me. Unlike you, Suzie.”
“Whatever.” Suzie rolled her eyes and went back to playing with her hair. “He’ll just ignore you.”
“He won’t!”
A Magic 8-Ball, Tina’s favorite item brought from home, rested on her nightstand. She snatched the toy and held it close to her chest. As she stared at the sphere, she asked, “Will I see Billy when I leave camp?” She turned the ball over and waited. The twenty-sided white die floating in the blue liquid slowly faded into view–ASK AGAIN LATER.
“What did it say?” Suzie asked.
“It’s none of your business,” Tina said. She returned the Magic 8-Ball to the nightstand and slid beneath her covers. Tina looked at Eve and whispered, “It said maybe. That’s good, right?”
Eve nodded and propped herself up on her elbow. She glanced over at Suzie, relieved to find her lost in her mirror. Eve always thought Tina was the prettiest. At least on the outside. She definitely wasn’t going to miss Tina’s bratty attitude.
“She’ll be here soon,” Eve said. “Caretaker.”
“I finally don’t have to take those stupid vitamins,” Tina said. “It’s nice to be a teenager.” She shot Suzie a quick glance and said, “Just like Billy.”
Eve was thankful Suzie didn’t take the bait. Suzie placed her mirror on her nightstand and sunk beneath her pilled and worn pink flannel blanket.
“Are you going to ask me to get you a message?” Tina asked Eve. “You ask everyone else.”
“Oh, uh, why? Would you?”
“No. But I’ll talk to Billy. Maybe he has a plan.”
“Thanks.” Eve closed her eyes and pictured Billy taking her hand that final night before he left. She felt her cheeks blush. “He said he’d find a way.”
“Wait. Do . . . do you like him?”
“What?” Eve opened her eyes, her cheeks becoming redder. “Um, no.”
Tina frowned, rolled onto her back, and stared at the ceiling. She said, “Billy was too afraid to show me he liked me. Boys are like that.”
Hugo whipped his blankets away, sat up, and said, “Would you shut up! All of you!”
The sound of Caretaker’s keychain rattled from outside the heavy wooden door. Hugo quickly retreated beneath his blankets. Tina looked at Eve and rolled her eyes. As Eve flopped back against her pillow, she knew tomorrow morning there would be four empty beds instead of three.
∞∞∞
Dawn closed the diary and glanced at the doll resting against her arm. She said, “October second wasn’t that long ago. And only seven years back. Did you ever hear from any of them?” Dawn waited patiently, but Eve did not respond. She opened the book and flipped a few pages ahead but then decided she’d read enough for this evening. Deep down, Dawn found the stories a bit repetitive and boring. “We can read more another time, Eve. Maybe we can take it to a bench on the High Line someday.”
“Hide my diary,” Eve said.
“What?” Dawn stared at Eve and then the diary in her hands. She ran her fingers along the deckled edges of the faded pages. “Why?”
“Hide my diary.
”
Dawn frowned as she thumbed through the book. She looked at Eve and said, “Janet did say this belonged to you. Who are we hiding it from? Jacob?”
Dawn waited for Eve to say something, but the doll remained quiet. She tossed the blanket away and stood up, holding the diary in her hands. Dawn opened a drawer in the nightstand but then closed it. Too obvious, she told herself.
The wooden box was still on the corner of the bed. Dawn went to it and placed the diary inside beside her fertility pills. The fit was perfect. She smiled as she closed the box and shoved it deep beneath her bed. Dawn dove back under the covers and pulled them close to her face. The time projected on the ceiling read 10:18 p.m. She said, “Evelyn, secure the apartment. I’m going to bed.”
“Securing the apartment,” the voice assistant responded.
The overhead lights in the bedroom dimmed, and the curtains slid closed. Dawn flicked the nearby light off, rolled over, and pulled Eve close. The doll’s eyes snapped shut. She said, “Sweet dreams, Eve.”
Within less than ten minutes, Dawn drifted off to sleep. Despite weeks free from nightmares, her hope for pleasant dreams soon faded. She found herself running down a hallway filled with twists, turns, and intersections. The stone floor beneath her sliced into her bare feet. There were lights now on the walls, casting an eerie orange glow everywhere. Running just out of reach from her was Eve, her copper hair bouncing wildly against her red robe.
“Stop!” Dawn cried out. “Eve! Please, stop!”
The air felt ice-cold as it wrapped around Dawn and entered her lungs. Dawn struggled to catch her breath as she chased young Eve past an open gate and through the maze. She looked ahead of Eve and saw the dark wooden door at the far end of the hall. Dawn reached out to grab hold of Eve’s shoulders but couldn’t get to her. Dawn’s legs felt like they were sinking into the floor. With each step, Eve pulled further away.
“Don’t . . . don’t go in there!” Dawn cried.