The Finish

by Jade Eby

  Someone whose husband has not made promises like mine.

  We drive around downtown, talking about the color of paint for the baby's room and the decorations we'll use if it's a boy or a girl. We don't talk about the danger of losing it. We don't talk about the two weeks I was away.

  We talk about the future because we both know it's all we cling to right now.

  It's the only thing that matters.

  May - 2006

  Olive Green. Or maybe it's called Sage Green. Whatever its name is has been poured into the paint pan. The walls are primed and ready. The edges taped off with precision. Everything is ready to go.

  Except me.

  I look around the bare, empty room with it's white walls and small windows. I see nothing that reminds me of what this room is supposed to represent. New life, love, family.

  Just dull empty walls and speckled cream carpet.

  Picking up the roller, I dip it into the paint pan, the white brush turning to a bright green.

  I move it to the wall.

  But I hesitate. Take a step back. Then I try again.

  It's like the wall screams at me the closer I get. Don't do it, Tawny. Don't do it.

  After setting the roller back in it's place, I fall to the carpet.

  This shouldn't be this hard. Painting a room should not feel like a death sentence, and yet, I can't make myself do it.

  When the room is white and bland and empty, it feels as if everything is normal. Things are how they should be.

  But if I do it… if I paint these walls, it will be a constant reminder if I lose this child. The pretty green color will burn into my memory as a color of loss and grief and that's such a shame. It's a beautiful color.

  I sit in the middle of the nursery with my eyes closed. I can almost imagine everything set up. The paint, the crib with a stuffed elephant mobil, the rocking chair in the corner. It's all so perfect. But it's not reality.

  That's not whats going to happen. I can feel it deep down inside of me. The place that my doubt bubbles and simmers to life.

  "What are you doing?"

  I snap my eyes open and see Carter standing in the doorway.

  Hanging my head, I say, "I can't do it."

  "Do what?"

  "Paint."

  He sighs. "Why?"

  I look into his eyes and for the first time since I can remember, I decide to be honest. "I'm scared."

  He comes over and sits down beside me. "Of what?"

  "Of everything. I'm scared we'll lose it again. I'm scared I'll never change. I'm scared of you, Carter."

  His cheeks burn red. "I told you —"

  "I know what you've told me. You tell me a lot of things, Carter. But you can't blame me for being scared that things will never be okay. You are not the same man I fell in love with. You're not even the same man I married. We both changed and became people we never wanted to be. Why are we bringing a child into this world?"

  He shakes his head. "You don't really believe that."

  I try to hold myself together when I answer. "I do."

  He moves closer to me and looks up at the same white wall I'm staring at. "What did we do?"

  "I don't know," I whisper. "But it scares me."

  "I'm sorry," he says.

  I look at him. "It's too late to be sorry. We need to save this. Before our child comes into the world with the kind of people we are now."

  Carter nods. "You're right. We can change. Both of us. For the better. For the baby."

  I stare at him for a few seconds, looking for signs of a lie or false hope but I see nothing but truth. He does want us to be better. He wants to change.

  "For the baby and for us," I say.

  He lays his hands on my stomach. "Right. For the baby and for us."

  June - 2006

  The air is sticky, hot and humid. It's the kind of summer heat that makes you wish you were dead so you wouldn't have to spend one more minute feeling like your lungs are broken. But I would take the oppressive heat over these intense cramps any day. It's happening again. I don't have to think twice about it this time.

  I wake Carter up and tell him we need to go to the hospital. Again.

  His lips purse together and he says nothing as he gets our bags ready. The drive there is silent. He doesn't reach for my hand or try to comfort me. He doesn't say a goddamn word.

  Taking him back was a mistake. An awful fucking mistake. It was great for the first couple weeks. It was just like the last time I'd taken him back. He was sweet and charming and doting. We'd bought onesies and diapers and talked about names.

  I thought he was ready. And maybe he was.

  But neither of us could prepare for this… again. Even though the doctors told us it was a possibility. I tried not to get my hopes up with this one, but Carter made it so damn easy. He made preparing for the future seem effortless. Simple. Like we were just starting out fresh again.

  Carter notices my distance this time. Got angry when I told him my heart couldn't take another lost baby. Another obvious sign of my failure. He said I was setting myself up to lose it and maybe my body was rejecting it because I didn't love it enough.

  I couldn't tell him that I'd spent so much time and energy on loving him that my heart is tired. Tired of being let down and strung along and left behind.

  This time, I don't get dropped off under the awning and I don't get rushed inside. I wait in the lobby, even though the pain has increased tenfold since I got here. Pain is something I'm used to by now, though. I choose to ignore it now because it means admitting what comes next. The bleeding and passing of the sac. The forlorn doctor telling me I've suffered another loss.

  "Tawny Brooks?" A tall nurse in blue scrubs looks for me and I wave an arm. Carter helps me up from the seat and I shuffle to her.

  She brings us back to the room and has me undress. "We'll need to do an ultrasound and run some tests to see where everything is at and what's going on."

  "I figured," I say.

  She frowns. "You've done this before?"

  "Twice," I say.

  "I'm sorry," she says rolling me away from Carter. He will be anxious until I get back. Wondering what they're doing to me, where they're touching me. Who is going to find out what. There's nothing he can do about it right now and that scares the living shit out of him.

  "I'm going to pull up your gown now, okay?" the nurse says when we're in the ultrasound room.

  I nod and wait for the shock of the cold goop on my stomach. I look over to her and she's staring at something else.

  "Excuse me?"

  She snaps her head in my direction. "You have bruising on your legs and inner thighs."

  Shit.

  How could I have forgotten about that? It was only a few nights ago when I dumped out his beer before he was finished. God forbid he have to get his ass up and get another one. Instead of drinking one more he drank four. And when I said I wasn't in the mood for his dick, he did it anyway. Again and again and again. His nails digging into my back, his dick thrusting so hard inside of me I cried against his shoulder blade.

  He told me to shut up and take it.

  The next morning I got a delivery of roses and imported chocolate. My favorite. At least, it used to be.

  "Ma'am, is someone hurting you?"

  I shake my head no.

  "These are not normal to have, you know you can tell me —"

  "Stop. I want you to figure out if I lost my baby so I can go home and grieve. Please."

  "But —"

  "Please, ma'am. Just do your job and stop asking questions. I'm so exhausted. I just want to sleep."

  She stares at me like she doesn't know what she should do. If she knew what was best for me, she would stop wasting time and get this over with. She pulls herself together and squirts the goop on my stomach. "You know, trauma is often the leading cause to miscarriages."

  "Thanks for sharing. I guess you'll find out if that was the cause then, huh?" I know I'm being a grade-A bit
ch. This poor lady didn't do anything but I've lost the only part of me that cares. It's not like anyone would step outside of their perfect world to do something like push the issue. Everyone likes to stay inside their pretty walls. Where they're safe from men like Carter - wolves in sheep's skin.

  With her lips pursed, she completes the ultrasound without another word. Doesn't push the issue further. No questions.

  A part of me wants to scream at her. Tell her to help me. Take me away from this life because I'm not strong enough to do it on my own.

  I wish I could be outside in the heat that everyone else despises right now. So it could invade my mouth and lungs and heart and smother me in it's oppressiveness until I don't have to worry about a damn other thing.

  * * *

  "Why in the hell was that doctor talking about a follow-up appointment for? I thought you weren't trying again," Carter says when we leave the hospital. I knew the comments the doctor made about follow up appointments would set him on edge. Other people don't realize that women like me have to take responsibility for their words and actions. That doctor didn't know anything about our home life otherwise he wouldn't have said a damn word.

  I look out the window at the darkness that stretches out before us. "He wants to run some tests."

  "What kind of tests?"

  "He's concerned there might be a difficulty in implantation or fertilization," I say. Though there's no point explaining things. I'm not going in for more testing. I'm not letting myself fall for the idea of a baby anymore. I can't take it anymore.

  "What the fuck does that mean?"

  "Jesus, Carter. It means there's something wrong with one of us, okay?"

  I don't get what's so hard about that for him to grasp. There's more than just our genes that are fucked up. Can't he see that we're just replicas of our parents? The people we promised each other we'd never be?

  "There's nothing wrong with me." He says it like he wants me to argue with him. I don't want to do anything right now but fall asleep. Forget this day existed.

  "I said, nothing is wrong with me," he says again.

  I turn and look at him. "I heard you."

  Maybe it's the lack of empathy in my voice or the way I look at him that sets him off. His hand comes out and then my head smashes into the passenger side window.

  November - 2006

  My mother stands on my doorstep and I can't decide if she's an apparition or I'm going bat-shit crazy. She's the same and yet… there's so much I don't remember about her. The frown lines and sagging skin.

  "Mom?"

  She smiles. "You don't recognize your own mother?" She has a threadbare jacket on and shivers. "Are you gonna keep me out in the cold or invite me in?"

  I open the door wider and gesture her inside. Carter is going to flip shit when he comes home.

  "What are you doing here?"

  She walks around the living room, her fingers tracing over the couch and the pictures on the mantle.

  "Nice place you got here. Looks like you've done real well for yourself. Better than I ever thought you would."

  "That's nice, Mom, but answer my question."

  She looks at me and even though it's been years since I've seen her, I would be able to recognize her drunken episodes from a mile away. She wobbles, but doesn't topple over.

  "I'm done," she says. "With the drinking and drugs and all that other bullshit. I just want to be with my daughter now."

  It would be a nice sentiment if it didn't feel like so many strings were attached to her statement.

  "What happened?"

  The moment she meets my eyes, she breaks. Just crumples to the ground and great, racking sobs come barreling out of her. I've seen my mother cry on occasions, but nothing like this.

  "Mom? What's going on?"

  "He's gone. Money's gone. Everything… just gone."

  "Who?"

  "Your father."

  So he's run off again. This time with money. Doesn't surprise me. And it shouldn't be to her either.

  "He's done it before. Why is this time any different?"

  She shakes her head. "He didn't run off, Tawny. He's dead."

  I should probably feel sad. Grief-stricken at the loss. But I feel… nothing. Maybe a tiny bit sorry for my mother. It's hard to care for someone who hasn't been around in your life. Hard to care when they haven't shown you one ounce of love.

  "What happened?"

  "Dumbass overdosed. I told him not to take another hit and he did. Because he's a greedy bastard. I knew something like this would happen."

  "Was."

  She looks up at me. "What?"

  "He was a greedy bastard," I say.

  "Jesus, Tawny. He's only been dead two weeks. You can't curb your hatred for five minutes? Maybe if you'd stayed in contact, you'd have known that things were getting bad."

  I laugh meanly. "Stay in contact just so I can watch my father kill himself with drugs and you fall apart? No thanks. Things were always bad, Mom. It doesn't sound real different than before."

  She stares at me for a few minutes and then begins another round of sobs.

  "I should've left him years ago. I just loved him too damn much."

  Ain't that the truth, Mom. Makes both of us.

  I sigh. "I'm sorry he's gone. But it's done. Time to move on."

  "How can you say that? He was your father."

  "I don't consider him anything but the man who taught me a few things. You know better than I do he wasn't capable of being a father."

  She shakes her head. "You're right. I know you are. That's why I'm here."

  "What do you mean?"

  "It's too late for him. But not me. I want to be your mother again."

  "I think that time has passed, too. You do more harm than good anywhere you go. And I don't need that in my life right now. I don't need you any more than I ever did."

  My mother wipes the tears from her face and holds onto the couch for leverage to stand up. "I may be a shitty mother, but I always knew when you were lying. Please, baby, give me another chance to prove to you that I can be here for you. That I can be the mother you always needed. I promise I can do it."

  Not once in my life has my mother begged me for anything. I'm not sure if it's the yearning to have someone else besides Carter in my life or the way her pleading breaks something inside of me that makes my decision easy.

  "Carter isn't going to like this."

  "I will make it up to him too. I promise."

  * * *

  "Fuck no. She's not staying here," Carter says in our bedroom. He was as surprised to see my mother on the couch as I was when she showed up on our front doorstep.

  "Please, Carter. She's lost without my father. She says she's done with the drinking and the drugs and if she's with us, I can watch her. Make sure."

  He shakes his head. "How many times has she said that before?"

  "I know. Jesus, do I know. But I'm so bored in this house all alone. This way someone is here with me all day. It's a checks and balances. I make sure she stays the course and she is here to vouch for what I do all day. How can you say no to that?"

  "Because I hate your mother."

  "Yeah, well I hated her too. But maybe it's time to change that. Everyone deserves a second chance, right?"

  That comment could either make or break his decision. I'm getting dangerously close to crossing the line - the one we don't talk about. But desperate times call for desperate measures.

  "I don't get why you want her to be here so badly if you know how she is. She's going to disappoint us, just like she does every other time."

  I grab his hand and hold it in mine. "But maybe not. My father isn't here to convince her to drink or take drugs. She has nothing, Carter. I can't let her go out on the streets. If she fucks up, then we'll take care of it your way, okay? Please don't deny me this chance to get to know my mother the way I should have when I was younger."

  He looks down at our hands intertwined and sighs. "Fine. But ther
e will be rules. Lots of them. She is not going to pull any of her old shit."

  I pull him into a hug. "Thank you."

  He pulls out of it and looks at me. "I mean it, Tawny. One screw up and she's gone and that's the last time we ever do anything for her."

  I nod and hug him tighter. "Of course."

  He lets me hold him for only a second longer before disengaging. "I have to shower. Might as well go tell the old bat she's not living on the streets."

  Despite his grumbling, I know he said yes because there would be someone else to watch me. To spy. I couldn't possibly do anything he doesn't like while I'm trying to keep my mother sober.

  When I walk out to the living room, she's curled up on the couch, snoring. I cover her up with a quilt and watch her for a minute. Asleep, she almost looks like the woman I remember when I was really little. There's remnants of her there. The pretty face underneath all the… baggage. The singing and humming. She really was a mother for a short time. For the first time since being a child, I think I might have a chance to have my mother back.

  March - 2007

  "Let me see the back again," I tell my mother.

  She spins on her heels. "It's not too short is it?"

  I laugh. "No, it's perfect."

  She wipes the perspiration from her forehead. "Jesus. Who knew shopping for interview clothes could be so damn hard?"

  Smiling, I walk over and hug her. "I'm so proud of you, Mom."

  She grips me tight. "You know, I am too. I don't think I've ever done something this good for myself."

  "You're doing great."

  "Thanks to you," she says, closing the dressing room door behind her.

  She's been living with Carter and me for almost five months and I don't think she's been this sober in her life. Her skin cleared up, gotten color back into it. There's a spark in her I never knew existed.

  So many things about her that I'd never have gotten to know about if Carter hadn't agreed to let her stay.

  Carter.

  Things haven't been this good between us since the first time I found out I was pregnant. He's a different man with Mom around. On his best behavior.