The Mother's Promise

by Sally Hepworth

  Kate’s hands found her cheeks. “No.”

  “Obviously we’re very concerned. I don’t suppose you’d have any idea where she might have gone?”

  “None. But … I’ll find her.”

  “If you do I’d suggest taking Zoe home right after so she doesn’t have to run into any of the students. And then … probably a few days at home would be best.”

  “Yes. Yes. Of course.”

  “Students do recover from these kinds of things, but it won’t feel like it for Zoe. Make sure you—”

  Kate didn’t hear the rest. She was already on her way out the door.

  41

  It didn’t take Kate long to realize she was completely out of her depth. She’d called Zoe using Alice’s phone, but she didn’t pick up. She’d searched the school grounds, visited Alice’s apartment, the nearby park, the mall. Now, she was stumped.

  What had she been thinking? What did she know about where Zoe would go? Alice would finish chemo in just over an hour, and Kate’s hopes that she would never have to know what had happened had long since diminished. Alice would certainly need to know that her daughter had urinated all over the floor at school. And the next thing she’d need to know was why Kate had come barreling down here without telling her what was going on first. The funny thing was, Kate didn’t have a good answer.

  Why had she done it?

  She knew she should head back to the hospital now, but instead she continued crawling the streets in her car, looking for a teenage girl whose life was in tatters. She had just headed down a street that she had traveled down twice already when her phone rang.

  She snatched it up. “This is Kate.”

  “What happened to you?”

  It was David. She tried not to sound disappointed. “Sorry?”

  “Our lunch date?”

  It came back to her then. “Oh no! David, I forgot.”

  Silence.

  “Why didn’t you call me from the restaurant?” she asked, turning down a side street. There was a person walking along the side of the road and she craned her neck. A middle-aged woman.

  “I assumed you’d been held up at the hospital,” David said. “Then an hour went by, and I had to go.”

  She thought of him sitting alone at the table, waiting for her to turn up. “Oh gosh. Honey, I’m so sorry. I was on my way there, and then…” Kate noticed a girl sloping along the side of the road, a blue sweater around her waist. She drove up beside her. “David … I’m sorry, can I call you back?”

  More silence.

  “David? Are you—?”

  But he was already gone.

  Kate hung up the phone and put down her window. “Zoe?”

  The girl glanced over at the car. It was Zoe, all right. Her face was red and tearstained.

  “It is you.” Kate released the breath she must have been holding for the past hour. “I’ve been looking for you everywhere!”

  Zoe looked bewildered. “You have?”

  “Yes!” Kate pulled to the side of the road and jumped out of the car. She gave Zoe a quick hug, which she neither engaged in nor threw off. “The school called your mother while she was in chemo and I took the call. They told me what happened. Are you … okay?”

  Zoe started to nod, even as she dissolved into fresh tears. “It was just … it was my turn to speak and I … froze. I couldn’t move, couldn’t speak. My hands were sweating and my heart was racing. And I … I was concentrating on breathing and I didn’t even feel it happen. It used to happen when I was a little kid, but not in years. The entire class saw me pee my pants.”

  Kate nodded, registering that this was, perhaps, the longest sentence she’d heard Zoe say. “What did you do?”

  “I bolted.”

  “And you’ve just been wandering the streets since then?”

  She nodded. “I wanted to go home but … Mom’s just had chemo and I couldn’t go home to her like this, not today. My best friend hates me, so I couldn’t go to her place. And I don’t have anyone else, so I really don’t have anywhere to go.” She looked at Kate and her face crumpled again. “What am I going to do?”

  Kate looked at her small, tearstained face, and her heart broke a little. I don’t have anyone else. The words were as wretched as they were factual.

  “You’re coming home with me,” Kate said, tucking the girl tightly under her arm as if her sheer proximity could erase that one, tragic truth.

  * * *

  Kate called the school principal to let her know she’d found Zoe, and now Zoe was tucked up on a chair in the sunroom wearing a pair of Kate’s sweatpants.

  “Your mom should be finished with her chemo by now,” Kate said. “Why don’t I take you to the hospital? I’m sure once you speak to her—”

  “I can’t tell her this.”

  “Zoe—”

  “She shouldn’t have stress, right, when she’s having treatment? I read that on the Internet. It’s bad for the cancer.”

  Sometimes Kate hated the damn Internet.

  “Your principal said you should have a few days at home,” Kate said. “So your mom is going to know something is up. I really think you should tell her what’s going on.”

  “No,” she repeated.

  Kate didn’t think she’d heard Zoe sound so firm. She had a sudden flash of Alice saying the same thing about Zoe when she was diagnosed with cancer.

  “You need to talk to someone, Zoe,” she said. “Before you go back to school—”

  “I’m not ever going back there. Ever.”

  “Well, I agree you shouldn’t go for a few days,” Kate said carefully. “As for ‘ever,’ you don’t need to make a decision about that right now.”

  Zoe lifted her head suddenly and Kate saw that her eyes were filled with tears. “I really wanted to be a good speaker,” she said. “And now I never will be.”

  Kate moved closer and let Zoe fall against her. She wanted to tell her something positive—like if you wanted something badly enough, it was bound to happen. Problem was, in her heart of hearts, Kate didn’t know if that was true.

  42

  Sonja lay on the couch in her pajama pants and socks and a big comfy sweater. Her feet were in George’s lap and the television was on. This was her happy place.

  “Should we start the next season of Dexter?” she asked, sitting up and reaching for the remote. She’d been dreaming of this all day as she rushed around at work. Escapism.

  George gave her a sidelong look that sent a chill through her.

  “I thought we could do something else.”

  Sonja’s stomach clenched. Surely not? She was still tender from the evening before. In the past, after a night like that, she’d be safe for a few days at least. These days it felt as though she was never safe.

  “George,” she started in a wobbly, unconvincing voice. “I’m not really in the mood.”

  But George was already rising up over her, pushing her onto her back. At least it was the couch, she thought. No sharp angles or surfaces. But even as she had the thought, his hand tangled in her hair, and she realized what was coming.

  Suddenly Dagmar’s words came back to her. When things start to get ugly—make sure you speak up. Tell him you don’t like what he’s doing and if he continues, you will leave.

  “George,” Sonja said. “Please don’t.”

  Too late. He yanked—sending a blinding pain into her scalp, so strong that she involuntarily bucked him off. He rolled onto the floor. His shock was so complete that she was able to slide out of his grasp and off the sofa, just out of his reach.

  “I asked you not to do that,” Sonja said. “I don’t feel like it, and you were hurting me.”

  George’s eyes widened slightly. It had just rushed out of her, but now that she’d said it, she wanted to choke it back in. It had sounded so prim. She watched him take it in for a moment before cocking his head.

  “Are you serious?” he said.

  Sonja hesitated, then nodded.

  H
is lip curled slightly at one side and Sonja’s heart started to thud. In his lap, she noticed his hands were curled into fists. George had never hit her—at least not in anger. There had been the odd slap, or spanking, during sex. He’d held her down too roughly. But he’d never outright hit her.

  He stood.

  “What is going on with you, Sonja?” he asked quietly.

  She took a tiny step backward. “Nothing. I … just … really want to watch Dexter.”

  He was quiet, as if weighing something up. And, for the first time ever, she admitted to herself that she was scared of him. Scared of her husband. His breath was high in his chest. All these tales she’d told herself about her being in control of the situation were just that. Tales. She was, she realized, entirely at his whim.

  Finally he nodded. “All right then.”

  “All right … what?”

  “All right. We’ll watch Dexter.”

  Sonja watched him. His expression was hard to read. “Really?”

  “Of course. If you’re too tired.”

  George straightened up and reached for the remote control, while Sonja looked on. It felt like a trick. It was simply too hard to fathom that he’d just accept it and move on.

  “Well,” he said, looking up at her. There was the faintest trace of impatience in his voice. “Are you joining me?”

  “Yes,” Sonja said. “Yes, okay.”

  But as she slid onto the couch beside him, Sonja was tense. She had a feeling that this wouldn’t be the end of it. Yes, she’d won this time. But sometimes the enemy you knew was better than the one you didn’t.

  43

  When Kate arrived home after dropping Zoe at her apartment, David was waiting for her on the doorstep. His top button was undone and his tie was loose. When he saw her coming, he rose to his feet.

  “What are you doing on the doorstep?” she asked.

  “Need to make sure the gardeners are doing their job.”

  He smiled. She took the smile for what it was: a peace offering.

  “I’m so sorry about lunch,” she said. “I should have—”

  “It was just lunch, Kate. I know you have a lot going on. Come inside.”

  He put his arm around her and led her into the front living room. For once the place was devoid of teenagers. Hilary’s brother was getting married in Mexico and they’d all headed off early that morning. Kate and David had even been invited—David, of course, still played golf with his former brother-in-law. They’d toyed with the idea of going but had decided against it after the miscarriage.

  “Why don’t we open a bottle of wine?” Kate suggested. One of the few upsides of not being pregnant was a drink after work. Today she needed one.

  “What a good idea. I’ll go to the cellar.”

  Kate kicked off her shoes and fell onto the couch. Beside her on the side table was a candle and she lit it, then nestled into the cushions. David returned a moment later with two chilled glasses.

  “Well,” he said. “This is romantic.”

  She smiled up at him. He put the glasses on the coffee table.

  “It’s so quiet,” he said. “I can hear myself think.”

  “It’s lovely,” Kate agreed. “The whole place to ourselves.”

  She let that comment hang for a moment, until he gave her a familiar look. And she turned to him.

  It was nice, the sex. After the last two years, it even felt a little gratuitous. For so long (though David didn’t always know it) she’d been aware of exactly where she was in her cycle—and was always more keen during the “hot spots.” After they’d started IVF, sex had been something controlled—not for a few days before or after an embryo transfer. It had been forever since they’d had the inclination and just gone for it. And the beauty of infertility, of course, was that there was no need to scramble for a condom.

  The best thing about it was that, for a few minutes, Kate felt like they were them again. Without fertility issues or embryo discussions or ex-wives or kids. Afterward, in the postcoital glow, Kate felt a small burst of courage.

  “David, can we … talk?” she said.

  In her arms, she felt him stiffen. “Kate—”

  “What? You said the other night that we should talk about it. Can we?”

  Slowly David disentangled himself from her and sat up. “It depends what you mean by talk,” he said warily.

  “I realize I can’t force you to try again for a baby,” she said, also sitting up. “But you can’t force me to stop wanting to. And until we resolve it, we have a problem.”

  “You mean until we have a baby, we have a problem?”

  Something about the way he said it irritated her.

  “If you want to put it that way, yes,” she said.

  David wiped his face with his hand. His face was a hard frown, his eyes sharp. It surprised her. “So that’s how you’re going to play it?” he said.

  “I’m not playing anything, David.”

  “Is this what this was all about?” He looked around the room. “The wine? The candles? The sex?”

  “No,” she said, taken aback. “I can’t believe you said that.”

  David stood. “Jesus. Are we really talking about this again? I’ve actually forgotten who we are when we’re not talking about a baby, Kate.”

  “David—”

  “I just … I can’t do this anymore.”

  Kate’s breath caught. “What do you mean?”

  “I might … see if I can get a ticket to Mexico after all. Go see the kids. I think some time away would be good.”

  His voice was softer now, which somehow made it worse. It sounded as though he was making a thought-out decision rather than lashing out, saying something he’d regret later.

  Kate couldn’t believe it. Four years of marriage, countless fertility treatments, and this is what they had come to. She knew she could end this now, once and for all. Just tell him, Okay, let’s forget about having a baby. If she did that, she’d have her husband back. She’d have the life she loved back. But she couldn’t bring herself to say the words.

  “Have a good time in Mexico,” she said instead, and she stepped around him and headed up the stairs.

  44

  Zoe sat on the couch, looking at her phone. Emily had called twice, probably to laugh at her. Zoe didn’t want to speak to her. Speaking to her would mean news from the outside world, and news from the outside world, she was certain, wouldn’t be good. Eventually she put her phone on silent and shoved it in a drawer. She’d been back in her apartment for half an hour when her mom got home.

  “Hi,” Zoe said. “How was chemo?”

  She was surprised to see that her mom looked pretty normal. Much the same as she’d looked that morning, perhaps a little tireder. She dropped onto the couch beside her. “It was okay.”

  “Did it hurt?”

  “No. It was like donating blood.”

  It was weird, but she seemed remarkably upbeat. Not the fake upbeat she did when she was trying to make Zoe feel happy but … actually happy.

  “Was it boring?”

  “Actually Paul came with me.”

  Zoe stared at her. “Paul, Paul? As in, my uncle Paul?”

  She nodded. “He showed up here this morning and offered to drive me. Weird, huh?”

  “Really weird.” She looked at her mom. “Are you hungry? I can fix you something…”

  “I’m fine, honey.”

  “Do you want a—”

  Zoe trailed off when there was a knock at the door. Their reaction, when Zoe thought about it, was comical. They both sat up, frowned, and stared at each other. Zoe could see her own thoughts reflected in her mother’s face. Had they ordered something? Had Dulcie had a fall? (She rarely came by after dark.) The idea that someone would come, unbidden, to their door was simply unfathomable.

  “You get it,” her mom said finally, which was a surprise. Chemo must have had more of an effect on her than Zoe thought.

  Zoe opened the door. Immediat
ely she wanted to close it again.

  “Hey,” Harry said.

  Zoe’s humiliation came back like a punch. The debate. Peeing herself. Harry’s face, as he watched the whole thing. She wanted to die, literally, right here, right now.

  “I tried calling,” he said, “but you didn’t pick up.”

  Zoe stared at him. “How did you know where I lived?”

  “Emily told me. She was worried.”

  “Emily was worried?”

  He glanced past her, into the apartment. “Can we talk?”

  Zoe didn’t want to talk. She wanted to slam the door and hide—or better yet, move to a new neighborhood. But her mom had appeared at the door beside her and was staring at Harry with such amazement that it was almost funny. Almost.

  “Um, okay,” she said.

  She opened the door further, letting Harry in. Her mom continued to stand there, the three of them forming a weird triangle. Zoe tried to imagine what her mom was seeing. Harry—a guy!—arriving on her daughter’s doorstep. It was as ridiculous as if Santa himself had shown up.

  “Uh … Mom?”

  “Sorry,” she said, a fraction too slow on the uptake. “Yes. Right. I was uh … about to lie down.” She gave Zoe a meaningful look, which might have been trying to convey either excitement or terror, then reluctantly disappeared.

  Zoe waited until her mom’s door had shut before turning to Harry. He was already sitting on the couch. As surreal as it was, Zoe didn’t feel as uncomfortable as she would have expected, having Harry in her apartment. It was almost as if, after what she’d done today, any other humiliation was small fry.

  “It wasn’t as bad as you think,” he said before she could speak.

  “Sure.” Zoe sat on the floor, her eyes in line with his knees.

  “We continued with the debate. I did your part. Most people just felt really bad for you. And FYI, Amy totally choked on her part too. Stumbling all over the place and her hands were shaking.”

  “Did she pee herself?”