My Sister's Child

by Caroline Finnerty

  She took her hand down, shoved it back inside her pocket and turned away from the door. She walked back down the narrow path and out through the small iron gate.

  “Isla? What are you doing here?”

  He was coming down the path towards her with a bag of groceries in his hand. He was casually dressed wearing a T-shirt, jeans with a rip at the knee and flip-flops.

  “Sorry, Greg – I was just – I shouldn’t have come here.”

  “Hey, what’s wrong? What happened to your face?”

  She automatically raised her hand to touch her face. The skin was tender underneath her fingertips. She had never seen Jo lose it like that before.

  “It’s a long story,” she sighed.

  He put an arm around her. “I’ve got all evening. Come on inside. I was going to make a big bowl of macaroni and cheese for my dinner – it’s the food of champions. You can’t say no to that.”

  “Comfort food at its best. Go on so.”

  She followed him back up the path and he put his key in the lock to open the door. She followed him past the bike and into the small kitchen at the back of the house. He flicked the switch on the kettle and then began unpacking the groceries. The narrow kitchen was functional but dated, a row of six small cupboards ending with a stand-alone gas cooker. The other wall had a small table pushed in against it, which was where Isla had sat down. Greg put a pot of water on a ring and, when it boiled, made a pot of tea for the two of them. He took out a pint of milk from the fridge, sat down beside her at the table and poured out the tea.

  “So are you going to tell me what’s going on?”

  She took the carton of milk he had left out and added a few drops to her tea. She put it down again and looked at Greg directly. “I want to have a baby,” she said as tears filled her eyes.

  “Really, Isla? But me and you . . . you know I’d love to have a baby with you!” His face exploded into a huge grin.

  She raised her hand up to stop him. “It’s complicated. Very complicated. I’m going through the menopause – I know it’s crazy – I’ve only just turned thirty-nine. You know all those times I needed to take a half-day for different appointments? Well, I was actually going to a fertility clinic for tests and it appears that I’m experiencing an early menopause.”

  “I see . . . so, eh . . . I guess that’s why we . . . eh . . . why . . . eh, you and me . . . why you didn’t get pregnant then?”

  Isla nodded.

  “I’m sorry, Isla. I didn’t realise that you wanted it that much but we can get help if that’s what you want – my friend and his wife went through it so I know it’s not easy but I’d be happy to do it with you – actually, I’d be more than happy, I’d be thrilled.”

  “It’s not that simple. They have advised me not to get treatment because it’s very unlikely to work.”

  “Oh . . . I see.”

  “Greg, I’m going to tell you something but you have to promise me that you will never say it to anyone else?”

  “You know you can trust me.”

  “Fifteen years ago I donated eggs to my sister Jo, because she couldn’t have a baby using her own eggs. Well, by using my eggs and her husband’s sperm, the clinic made two embryos. One of those embryos was put into Jo, which resulted in my niece Réiltín.”

  He looked gobsmacked. “I see . . . wow . . . that’s a pretty big deal alright!”

  “Well, Jo has an embryo left over from her treatment all those years ago. I asked her if she would be prepared to let me use it but she flat out said no.”

  “I’m sorry, Isla, I’m not up to speed with how these things work – so that embryo would be half your baby, is that right?”

  “Well, that’s the big dilemma. Legally, when I gave Jo those eggs, I signed away all my rights to them but I still thought that as my sister she’d want to help me out, y’know?”

  “And who would the father be?”

  “Well, genetically it would be Jo’s husband Ryan.” Then she added quickly, “But I’d be raising the baby on my own.”

  “I see.”

  He went quiet and Isla sensed that he wasn’t saying everything that he wanted to say.

  “You think it’s mad, don’t you?”

  “Well, it’s certainly not straightforward.”

  The water was bubbling in the pot.

  “One sec,” he said. “Just let me throw in the pasta.” He quickly attended to it and sat back down again at the table. “Sorry,” he said. “Look, Isla, this isn’t my business but I guess I can see where your sister is coming from. Wouldn’t it be like you had a baby with her husband? That’d be strange for anyone!”

  “I know it’s strange but I honestly wouldn’t see it like that. It’s weird but when Réiltín was born I knew she was my niece and I never thought about her as the daughter that I could have had – if that makes sense? And I know that if Jo gave me that embryo that I wouldn’t see it as Ryan’s – it would be my baby.”

  “But how would he feel about it? And Jo?”

  “I don’t know, Greg. Look, I know it’s weird and not what anyone would choose. But, you see, it’s my only remaining chance.”

  “It’s complicated, that’s for sure,” Greg said thoughtfully. “Which is the ‘real’ parent – the person a child shares their genes with or the person who raises the child?”

  “And what do you think?”

  “I just don’t know, Isla. There’s no easy answer to that one. My friend Kenneth was raised by his aunt and uncle because his mother had him so young and she wasn’t able to look after him properly and to this day he still thinks of his real mother as a cousin or something, even though he sees her all the time. And then, of course, there are so many people who were adopted and, even if they meet their biological parents in later life, they still think of the people who raised them as their parents.”

  “So what do you think I should do?”

  “Well, what can you do? If your sister has said no to you then you really don’t have any other options left, do you? Unless you’re thinking of going down the legal route?”

  Isla sighed. “I’ve thought about it but I really don’t want to do that. Jo is a solicitor, she knows everyone in the business. She’d have the best legal team – I wouldn’t stand a chance against her. Plus it would probably be all over the news. A case like that would attract the media and I just don’t think I’d be able for it.”

  “I guess then it all depends on how badly you want to have this baby.”

  “I’m pretty desperate, to be honest. I wish it was simple and me and you could just have a baby together – it would be a hell of a lot easier, that’s for sure.”

  “I wish we could too,” he said with a bittersweet edge to his voice.

  She shrugged her shoulders. “Well, what can I do?”

  Isla woke the next day in Greg’s bed, having dreamt of the baby again. She took her hand out from underneath the warmth of the duvet and reached out to check the bed beside her but of course the baby wasn’t there and instead her hand hit off Greg’s bare chest. He was still sleeping soundly, his mouth half-open, making a gentle snoring sound. She took a moment to look at his face while he slept, lost in a peaceful world somewhere.

  The dream came back to her again. It seemed like just minutes ago that the baby was laughing; he was reaching his pudgy fists upwards and reaching out for strands of her hair as she had leant in to kiss him. He laughed heartily whenever he caught hold of a fistful and she had leant in further and tickled him on the part of his stomach that was lovely and round. “You’re my baby,” she said. He laughed some more at that, like it was the funniest thing that he’d ever heard. “Yes, you are, you are. You’re my baby.” Then parts of him began to fade and reappear. It was his left leg first and when she reached out to touch it there was nothing there. Then it was back again just like it had always been there but then his left arm was gone. Parts of him kept disappearing and reappearing but he was never whole. “Come back!” she called. “You can’t
be playing games like that on me!”

  When Greg woke up, he opened his eyes and smiled at her. A smile that said so much. A smile she wished she could take for herself, to be her smile whenever she opened her eyes in the morning. But there was something stopping her from reaching out to it. She knew that that feeling could be hers to keep if she wanted it but there was something stubbornly insistent within her that wouldn’t allow it.

  “Did you sleep okay?” he asked her.

  “Yeah, I did.”

  “You were tossing and turning all night.”

  “Oh, sorry, was I? I hope I didn’t keep you awake?”

  “Don’t worry about it. You know that I’ll support you, Isla – whatever it is you decide or your sister decides or whatever happens – you know that I’ll support you, don’t you?”

  “Why are you so nice to me?”

  “No, I’m not.”

  “Yes, you are.”

  “Well, I love you, Isla – don’t worry, I know you don’t feel the same way and that’s fine but it doesn’t mean that I’ll stop caring about you.”

  “You see what I mean? That’s what I’m talking about.” She paused. “You’re right, by the way,” she sighed.

  “Right about what?”

  “The reading. I’ve struggled with it every day since I was six years old.”

  “Oh, Isla, I’m sorry. Why didn’t you ever say something?”

  “Because I’m thirty-nine years old. It’s ridiculous.”

  “You have nothing to be embarrassed about – there are lots of adults in the same position as you. But don’t let it ruin your life any longer. There are groups out there that help people like you. Why don’t I look one up for you?”

  “Maybe,” she sighed.

  “Isla, you owe it to yourself to learn to read properly. It must have been awful for you trying to keep it a secret for all these years. I was thinking back on all your excuses since I’ve known you and, I have to give it to you, you’re fairly crafty.”

  “I just can’t face going to see a complete stranger and telling them about it.”

  “But they’ll have helped people just like you before.”

  “But what if I’m the worst one that they’ve ever seen?”

  “You won’t be.”

  “How do you know that I won’t be?”

  “Because it’s a support group – they want to help you – that’s the reason they exist!”

  “I can’t face it, Greg. I know it sounds mad but school wasn’t a very happy place for me and I think it will dredge up too many bad memories and anxiety.”

  “So that’s it? You’re going to let this ruin the rest of your life because you’re too afraid to get help?”

  “I’m sorry. I know it seems hard for you to understand but I couldn’t face it.”

  “You’re so stubborn, Isla, do you know that?” Greg breathed a frustrated sigh.

  Chapter 23

  Rebellion

  The witching hour was what they called it. It was the time at night where a person could feel like they were the only one in the world who was still awake. It was the time when babies wouldn’t settle and dreams fused with reality in the unconsciousness of sleep. It was where Isla now found herself lying in a pool of sweat after waking from an awful nightmare. She had dreamt that she had walked into a square room with white walls. She had stood looking around at them for a moment but when she went to get out again the door had vanished. A smooth wall, just like the other three, was now in the place where the door had been. Then a window appeared so she had walked over to it but, when she got up to it, she saw that it wasn’t a window any more – it was a mirror and, when she looked into it, it wasn’t her reflection looking back at her. Instead it was Jo. She started to scream, ‘Jo, Jo, help me! I can’t get out. Jo, please, help me, I’m trapped in here!’ Jo’s face started to crease in concern but she still didn’t do anything to help her soIsla had started calling out louder to her. ‘Jo, help me, please! I can’t find my way out!’ Then Jo had opened her mouth and Isla could see that her teeth were black and rotten all the way down to her gums. Isla shouted, ‘Jo, look at your teeth!’ but then Jo started to laugh at her and the more Isla screamed for help, the more she just laughed.

  As she lay there shivering her phone rang shrilly and cut through the darkness of the night. Isla fumbled a hand around the top of her locker and eventually located it. She was almost going to hang up without answering it when something deep within her, some kind of instinct, told her to check who it was. She looked at the screen and saw Réiltín’s name lighting it up. A sense of panic washed through her. She quickly pressed the answer button.

  “Réiltín, is everything okay?”

  “I’m outside your door – can you let me in?”

  “What’s wrong, what’s after happening?”

  “Please, Isla, just let me in.”

  She could hear the wheeze in her chest, the shallowness of her breath. Her asthma always got worse when she was upset about something.

  “I’ll be down in a sec.”

  She jumped out of bed and threw on her dressing gown. She took the stairs two at a time. She pulled open the door and saw her standing on the path underneath the orange glow of the sodium street lamps. She was almost unrecognisable in the short dress with heavy black biker boots underneath. Thick black eyeliner mixed with mascara sat smudged underneath her eyes. Isla knew that there was no way that Jo would have let her out of the house dressed like that.

  “Thanks, Isla,” she mumbled.

  Isla let her walk up the stairs ahead of her. She noticed that she was unsteady.

  “Have you been drinking?” she asked, shocked.

  She nodded. “Please don’t tell my mum.”

  “Are you going to get sick?”

  She shook her head.

  “Does your mum know where you’ve been?”

  “Of course not. Do you think she’d let me go to a party?”

  “I didn’t think so. So where does she think you are then?”

  “In Fiona’s house.” She plonked down onto the sofa.

  Isla nodded. “So are you going to tell me what happened?” she said, sitting down in the chair beside her.

  “You know Darren from my class?’

  Isla nodded – she had heard Réiltín mention his name before.

  “Well, he was having a party – his parents are gone away for the weekend and Rick asked me to go with him. You have to promise you won’t tell Mum . . .”

  “Go on –”

  “Well, we were drinking vodka and I started to feel sick so he said he’d come outside for some air with me. Then he started kissing me but I felt really dizzy and was afraid I’d get sick on him so I pushed him away and he got mad with me and said horrible things and then he stormed off and when I went back inside he was kissing Doireann Walsh.”

  “Oh, sweetheart! That’s awful. Are you okay?”

  “Yeah, my head hurts though.”

  “That’s what’s known in the business as a hangover! You’ll just have to sleep it off. You can stay here – there’s no point going home now and starting World War Three.”

  “Thanks, Isla,” she mumbled. “Please don’t tell Mum.”

  “Don’t worry, I’m not going to say anything this time but you have to promise me there’ll be no more wild drinking night-time adventures, okay? You’re not old enough yet to steal my thunder!”

  Isla gave her some fresh pyjamas and tucked her up in her bed. Réiltín fell asleep almost instantly and Isla sat on the edge of the duvet and stroked her hair. Then she climbed into bed beside her.

  For a while she lay awake, listening to the gentle rhythm of Réiltín’s breathing. This wasn’t like Réiltín. She knew that all teenagers rebelled at some point but it wasn’t like her to lie to Jo about her whereabouts. When had she even learnt how to lie? When she was a child if you asked her if she had done something like eaten a packet of sweets that she wasn’t supposed to eat, she would burst o
ut crying with guilt. She wondered if things were tense at home because of the situation between herself and Jo and she felt a wave of guilt wash over her. She and Jo still weren’t back in contact and Réiltín was bound to have picked up on it, considering how close they used to be.

  When Réiltín woke the next morning, she came into the kitchen where Isla was already up. Her auburn hair was wild and black eye make-up was smudged beneath her eyes. She was pale and sheepish.

  “Morning,” Isla said through a mouthful of toast. “Do you want some breakfast?”

  “I couldn’t look at food right now.”

  “That bad?”

  “I feel terrible. I’m never drinking again.”

  “I’m glad to hear that. Even I wasn’t doing that at your age.”

  “Look, Isla, I just want to say . . . well, thanks for letting me stay here and not telling my mum. I’m so glad I have you.” She walked over and threw her arms around her neck.

  “Well, you know that’s what aunties are for – we do the cool things that mums can’t!”

  “You’re more than an aunt – you’re like a second mother to me.”

  Isla was cringing inside at her innocence.

  “Sometimes I don’t know how you and Mum are even sisters. You’re total opposites!” Réiltín was saying now.

  “We’re not that different really.” She was trying to keep her voice casual in case Réiltín detected something in her tone. “I know you don’t always understand where your mum is coming from but you’re her world. She just wants the best for you. You’re her Little Star. It’s not such a bad thing really. Everyone should have a mum who loves them as much as your mum loves you.”

  “I suppose so.” She sighed heavily. “I better go home. Mum has already been ringing my mobile and if I don’t answer she’ll probably drive over to Fiona’s or something.” She paused. “You know what she’s like.”

  Isla had to try really hard to keep the smile from her face. “Yeah. Give her a ring now and tell her that you’re on your way.”

  Réiltín groaned and made her way into the bedroom while Isla cleared up after breakfast.