Mayfly

by Rei Fletcher

  Except it was over, all of that.

  Her mom cooed over the pictures in the car. If the doppelgänger was telling the truth and she'd cried when she first found out about the pregnancy, she was sure over it now.

  "We've got to start a baby book. We can go shopping for one. They should have them pretty cheap at Zellers. Or we could do up a scrapbook however you want. You used to love working on projects like that. I think if we go bit by bit, we can manage everything we'll need. Furniture and baby things. Sharon and Don will do their part, you know. We can start looking for sales."

  She looked out the window, wondering what the doppelgänger was doing. She wondered if it would have a kid, and what it would be: a person or a shapeless thing.

  "I was moody as anything when I was pregnant with you. This will pass, you know. It's a big change. But it will be okay, you'll see. Once the wedding is done, you can concentrate on you."

  Her hands closed into fists.

  "There's a lot of reading to do for you. We'll pick up those vitamins, too. Sharon said the contractor is working to finish up their basement for you and Bobby. It'll be a nice little suite, I guess. I don't know. Those stairs are steep. That seems like a fall risk to me."

  They stopped for a red. She felt her mom looking at her. For a moment every bit of her wanted to scream. She didn't want this. She didn't want any of it.

  "Everything will be okay, honey. I promise."

  Liar.

  She went to her room as soon as she got home, and faked nausea to get out of sitting with her mom and John through dinner. Her mom made her a bowl of the chicken noodle soup with the tiny noodles that had been a comfort food since she was little. She ate a bit, then waited until her mom was in bed to pour the rest into the toilet.

  She wasn't really tired. Her body was still firmly in the nocturnal hunting mode she'd cultivated. She dragged her comforter off her bed and wrapped it around herself. The night was cold. She sat on the creaking lawn chair and watched the sky marching past.

  Ursa.

  If the doppelgänger hadn't been lying in its future vision she'd never get to use the name. Bobby Junior and Anthony. Named after a guy who couldn't keep his dick wrapped up and a druggie murderer, coming out of a trailer trash slut who only managed to finish high school. What a great start to life.

  Maybe it was lying, though. The whole world was made of lies.

  Her mom found her dozing in the lawn chair when she came out for her early morning smoke. She chased Marianne back inside, and scolded her, off and on, throughout breakfast.

  "It's really bad for the baby, you know, if you catch cold."

  "Colds are bad for everyone."

  "If I have to smoke outside, you should stay inside where you're safe. You're going to be a mom, and you have to think of your baby, first. It's the most important thing in the world."

  John was watching her. She kept her eyes on her breakfast plate, pushing the scrambled eggs back and forth, watching fat congeal, like the gobs that clung to her future thighs.

  "Charlene called and said she'd be by to pick you up about twelve. You be careful. I know some of your friends smoke. If they start up, you should leave. And drink milk. It's healthy."

  "Cathy, sweetie, is there any more coffee?"

  When her mom turned to check John caught her eye and jerked his chin toward the hallway. She fled, getting ready as slowly as possible. Hiding.

  Her mom's hectoring followed her to Charlene's car. Be careful of smoke. Wear a seatbelt. Eat something healthy. Sit down if you feel tired. She shoved her hands into her pockets.

  "Don't worry! I'll take care of her."

  Marianne slouched down in the seat, staring out the window.

  "Mothersmothering. It should be a swear word, right?" Charlene laughed.

  "Yeah. It's something else."

  Her laugh trailed off. "I thought we could go look at dresses. You know, just something nice, for the wedding. Not a full-on wedding dress, but something nice."

  "I don't have any money."

  "Yeah, well, I do. Enough to buy a dress for my best friend so she can get married in style."

  She looked down. "That means a lot. That you want to do that."

  "Well...well, I still wish that you were coming to school with me instead. And I know you kinda do, too. Even though you said yes and you seemed excited about it all before."

  "Nothing I can do now."

  Charlene seemed about to say something, then shook her head, curls bouncing. "Let's find something great. Something beautiful. It should be beautiful."

  They learned in the first store not to mention the word 'wedding' because they were instantly guided to a rack of dresses that she imagined a mother-in-law would go wild for.

  "Maybe if you never want to have sex again," Charlene said, eye running over the selections. The clerk, tidying a rack nearby, huffed a little. Charlene blushed, but also laughed. "Let's try somewhere else."

  Marianne's vague interest gravitated to black, which they both agreed would go over like a lead balloon. However nice the dresses, they were all kind of tainted by the fact that she was supposed to get married in it. To Bobby.

  "I don't think his family would be into gothy. What about this? At least the flowers are dark."

  She looked at the dress Charlene was holding up. Instantly her mind flashed to floral print robes and nightgowns.

  "Mare? Are you okay?" Charlene tossed the dress aside and grabbed for her.

  "I'm okay."

  "I didn't think it was that ugly."

  Marianne smiled and Charlene looked relieved.

  "Come on. Let's get lunch. On me. I'm the maid of honour after all."

  It felt like ages since she'd had Chinese. It wasn't, not really. Her mom's generous, "get a job" feast wasn't that long ago. She just felt a million years different. They ate at a buffet and she stuffed herself. They didn't talk about Charlene going away or the wedding or the pregnancy. They talked about stupid things and old jokes, and Marianne felt the weight of it all receding a little.

  It wasn't until Charlene was driving her back that she cleared her throat nervously. Marianne braced herself.

  "You don't seem very happy."

  "The doctor said it's moods. Hormones or something."

  "Sure."

  "What do I know?"

  "Lots. Way more than me."

  "I thought I knew plenty."

  Charlene fiddled with the radio.

  "You do. You're smart. So maybe you made mistakes or something, or you don't know as much as you thought. You're smart enough to learn, though."

  She looked out the window. Thin Places glimmered like rainbows. She'd thought of taking off the pendant. She never quite got around to it, just like she hadn't been able to throw away the knife or the underwear or the dress that was for Ash, really, and not Bobby at all.

  "You know I always had a huge crush on Bobby. When I found out about this and he proposed I realised that I kinda liked him but not him. I liked him because I was lonely. That's a pretty bad reason to like a guy."

  Marianne looked up at her quickly. She was biting her lip, face red.

  "I just mean, you should be with someone for good reasons. Because you honestly like them. I don't know about Bobby. He freaked out at first but I think he's...you know. Fine with it, now. But we've been friends since first grade. I know that you don't love him anymore, and you don't want to get married and you don't want to have a kid. Not now, for sure. You've never once talked about it."

  "It's all gotten out of my hands."

  "It isn't like you. You always go for it."

  "Look where it got me."

  "C'mon, Mare. It's...I mean it's a problem, but there's gotta be options."

  "I don't know. I don't know, anymore."

  "Well, whatever's going on, whatever you need, I'll be your coconspirator."

  They pulled up in front of the trailer. The car idled.

  "I'm sorry."

  "What?"

&nb
sp; "I'm sorry. It isn't your fault that...I mean...I've been jealous of you. After my dad died everything turned to crap, and you...It wasn't your fault you didn't have to work and stuff. I'm sorry about that."

  "I am, too. For the Bobby thing. And all the stupid teen stuff."

  She hugged her. Charlene seemed surprised, then hugged back. She wished she could tell her everything. That would probably land her in the nuthouse long before—

  "See you later."

  "You bet."

  The nights were hard. The hardest. She didn't think she had so many tears in her. She told herself it was hormones and clutched the pendant. No matter how much she cried, the hard knot of pain in her didn't melt. Sometimes she thought she felt Ash's remorse reaching over the dark miles. She saw Ash in her mind, craved the feeling of her and the sound of her voice. Ash, who'd lied, when Marianne had been so sure...

  Dinner with Bobby's parents was the next hurdle. She hadn't talked to them at all since...everything. The doppelgänger certainly had, from what her mom said. Lots of talk. Lots of discussion. Lots of decisions. Every conversation she had was a new minefield of things she should know.

  Bobby came to pick her up. She expected the rattle of his old truck, but it was a shiny little blue Lexus.

  "Like it?"

  So it was new, not something she shouldn't be surprised by. He bounded up the porch stairs. She turned her head to look at it so his kiss landed on her cheek.

  "Parents?"

  "Nah. I got rid of the truck. Don't have time for it anymore. Dad helped with the loan and stuff. It's a great buy. It'll be able to make the trip back and forth from Vancouver. Safer for the baby."

  She turned, grabbing for her backpack.

  "I can take that for you."

  She clutched it. "It's okay."

  He called goodbye to her mom and John. She'd missed their meeting. She'd missed Bobby getting a haircut, and shaving properly. She stopped on the gravel beside the car and looked toward the place where the gate would be. It trembled like it was under water, and seemed terribly fragile.

  The new car smell was overpowering. She rolled down her window and leaned her head close to it, the wind stealing her breath. Thin Places flashed by. She held the pendant, remembering how they glowed beyond the lights of the dashboard, the night she'd almost gotten away.

  "Mare!"

  "What? Why are you shouting?"

  "I tried talking normally, but you were like, completely zoned out." He kept his eyes on the road. "You looked really sad."

  "I'm not."

  "I, ah, noticed you aren't wearing my ring."

  "Oh. Sorry." Where was it? Maybe still in the playground. Shit. "It didn't really fit."

  "I just had it sized."

  "Joints swell up."

  "Oh, shit, really? Like, already?"

  Already? What did he know about it? What did she?

  "Yeah. It fucking sucks."

  He glanced at her, then nodded, eyes returning to the road.

  "I guess we should cut back on the swearing. You know. Little ears."

  She closed her eyes, thumb tracing the contours of the pendant.

  She endured an awkward embrace from his mom, which she thought she failed at, somehow, and was ushered into the house. The smell of cooking food floated out of the kitchen. It was something tomato, she thought.

  "Dinner's almost ready. I thought I'd show you the work we've done so far on the suite. Don, why don't you and Bobby relax a bit before we eat?"

  Don. Don and...god, what was his mom's name?

  Sharon.

  She followed Sharon down carpeted stairs that were steep, just like her mom said. At the bottom was a door with its own lock. It opened into a room that was bigger than her living room and kitchen and probably even her bedroom combined. The floor was still paint-spattered cement, and cans of paint were stacked in the corner. Rolls of carpet, covered in plastic, were pushed up against the drywall. There were windows high up at ground level, straining to add cheer to the room. Three of the doors she saw were rough and frameless. A fourth led to a laundry room with tidy shelves and a huge washer and dryer.

  "I'm afraid we'll have to traipse through on wash day. But honestly, you're completely welcome upstairs. It might be easier for you anyway." She laughed. "We thought a pale beige for the carpet. Basement suites can look so small and dark, and we really want it to feel bright and cheerful. The furniture is something we can work out. Of course a TV and sofa and so on. I decided on the rose print wallpaper. I know you were really on the fence but it's truly lovely."

  There was a bedroom and a bathroom with a shower stall, everything moving towards finished. A nursery had been painted. Even with the high window open as wide as it could go, the smell made her stomach turn over.

  "What do you think? I thought the yellow and green for the baby's room would be good since we don't know the gender yet. Pink and blue, of course, it's traditional...You mentioned purple but…"

  "Does the toilet work."

  "Yes. Why do—"

  She emptied her stomach into it. Maybe it was being pregnant, maybe it was the paint smells. Maybe it was the inevitable creep of roses into her future. She knelt on the white tile floor and wished with a wild, intense desire that it was because she'd crossed a monster's path instead.

  Sharon brought her upstairs to freshen up. She rinsed her mouth and scrubbed her face, then fished through her bag for her lipstick.

  There was a particular tone to conversations about you that you weren't intended to hear. The bathroom door was no proof against the one going on in the living room. She looked at herself in the mirror, the incomprehensible murmuring washing over her, hot and cold. She looked sick: drab and colourless, hugging her backpack like she was on her way to her first day of school. Even her hair looked depressed. She touched a bit, remembering vividly Ash's marble fingers gathering it up and kissing it while she sprawled in the wet sheets, awash in the aftermath of…

  It's finished, you stupid bitch. He lied and she lied. This is the real world. The faster you figure that out the better off you'll be.

  She shoved the unopened lipstick back into her bag, took a deep breath, and went out to join them.

  "Feeling better?"

  "Yeah. Yes. Thanks."

  "I thought it was supposed to be in the morning," Bobby said. They were watching a ball game. Or his dad was, and Bobby was also in the room. He looked bored. Still, she could see his father in him very clearly.

  I'll get gobs of fat and he'll get a paunch and stoop. Except if one day I go crazy and murder him.

  "That's just a myth, I'm afraid." Sharon ushered her into a kitchen chair and brought her a glass of water. "How has it been for you? Really bad?"

  "I don't know."

  "My sister could barely keep anything down. Soda crackers and broth for a month, I think."

  "Not bad, then."

  "I had my doctor work up a good diet for you."

  "I have a pamphlet."

  "That's a good starting point." She smiled. "Let's try tonight, hmm? Give you back some of the strength you just lost."

  It'd smelled pretty good, but it turned out to be a kind of tomato bean casserole.

  "Legumes are so healthy!"

  Sharon dug in with a gusto that Marianne thought was at least partly fake.

  "Healthy," Bobby looked at the forkful of mush.

  "Mind your manners," his father said. He took a bite, and his expression changed. Then he chewed on with gritty determination.

  She managed about half of the serving before she put her fork down and concentrated on the glass of milk.

  "Well, not my best work!" Sharon laughed.

  "Still better than the frozen turkey."

  "Don!"

  "Turkeycicle," Bobby agreed.

  "Never make a mistake with Thanksgiving dinner. They'll never let you forget it."

  Sharon's hand squeezed her wrist conspiratorially. She forced a smile and tried to think of something to say.<
br />
  "The traditional Thanksgiving curry and naan was really great, though." Bobby nudged her. "We should go get Indian."

  "I've never eaten it."

  "Do you like spicy food? It can be murder during pregnancy."

  "It's still early, Sharon. Take off the kid gloves." Don waved his fork.

  "I heard you get weird cravings. Like pickles and ice cream."

  "I wanted bread. Constant bread. And chocolate. It took ages to work off that weight."

  "Got any of those, yet?"

  She looked up from her glass of lukewarm milk to three expectant sets of eyes.

  "What?"

  "Cravings. Weren't you listening at all?"

  "Bobby!"

  "Sorry. I guess I'm not really feeling that well."

  "A little mental fuzziness is to be expected. Bobby can help clean up this time."

  This time?

  "What, me?"

  "Everyone pitches in," his father said.

  "Never mind. I can do it. Just...I need to use the bathroom."

  She sat on the side of the tub. They seemed nice. There was nothing wrong with them. She just…

  Please.

  She rubbed her eyes. There was only one person who could hear, and she was no better than anyone else, in the end. She couldn't even say for sure that what she felt was her own, or if it was what Ash wanted her to feel.

  Thrall.

  Bobby was itching to talk as soon as they got into the car. At least he waited until they were out of the driveway.

  "Look, Mare, I get that everyone says girls get moody when they're pregnant."

  "I'm not."

  "Then you were being a bit of a bitch. Not listening. Barely answering. Everyone is trying. I'm trying. I want us to be back to good."

  "You think there's a good after this?"

  "What? Yes. What the fuck, Mare?" He sighed. "Look, I'm sorry I freaked out at first, but you know Dad and me had that talk. I did my soul-searching and stuff. I didn't just ask you to marry me like it was some kind of duty. I really do love you. We're having a kid, and that's kinda awesome. I mean, yeah, it'll be hard at first, but it'll be fine. You'll see."

  "I'm really sick of people saying that. Like, really fucking sick of it."

  "The last time I saw you, you were the one saying it!"