by Nicole Baart
But this Janice was not the same one who had grudgingly participated in the rites of our family over ten years ago. I watched now as she swept the cloth over the table, head bent, eyes downcast. She washed as though everything depended on each calculated flick of her wrist. As though she could atone for all that had happened by wiping away the hurt and the years with suds from a wet washcloth. It felt wrong to observe her somehow, but I couldn’t tear myself away.
It was quiet with Simon gone, and once or twice Janice looked toward the living room as if she was wary of his return. Finally she cleared her throat. Keeping her back turned to me, she said, “Simon doesn’t know that...” Her voice dropped. “He doesn’t know that you are his sister.”
I followed the movement of her hand, forgetting the glass that I clutched in my own. “I won’t tell him.”
Janice seemed relieved. “We’ll tell him, Julia.” She tumbled over her words, looking up at me with relief in her eyes. “Just not yet. The right time will come.”
“Okay,” I agreed. It struck me that I complied as easily as Simon had.
We had to move Simon’s booster seat from Janice’s car to mine. I could have just driven her car—she offered to let me take it—but something inside me balked at the idea of sitting in the seat that she occupied.
When we were buckled in and on our way down the highway, I let myself stare in the rearview mirror and take in the boy who was my brother. He really was adorable. I decided it was impossible for me to be biased, as I hardly knew the skinny little rascal in my backseat. Anyway, we had absolutely nothing in common, so it couldn’t be an affinity for my own genes that drew me to him. If he was chocolate, sweet and rich and handsomely dark, I was vanilla—bland and tepid, dull against the animated glimmer of his eyes.
Simon looked out the window as I drove, talking quietly to his reflection and occasionally singing a line or two from a song that I couldn’t quite determine. It would have been melodramatic to say that I loved him, but in those minutes between the farm and Mason, I felt that loving him wouldn’t be nearly as much work as I thought it might have been.
Mostly I realized that I trusted him and his guileless motives for wanting me to be a part of his life. He didn’t know who I was, yet he believed me with the willing innocence of a child who has known no reason to mistrust. For a moment, I wished that I could wipe myself clean of those experiences that had jaded me. I wished that Janice with her washcloth could make me forget, make me new and trusting and ready to believe that everything would once again be as it should have always been. But then again, I didn’t really want that. I possessed a wisdom that Simon would soon enough know too. There was safety in knowing. There was safety in being prepared.
“Is this where you work?” he cried when we pulled up to Value Foods. “Can you have all the candy bars you want?”
“Yes, I work here,” I answered, happy to find that Simon could elicit more laughter from me. “And no, I can’t have all the candy bars I want.” It had never occurred to me that working in a grocery store was nearly the equivalent of working at Disney World for a five-year-old. What preschooler wouldn’t want to be among the rows of Ding Dongs and Doritos day in and day out?
I parked near the store, intending to leave the car running while I popped in for my paycheck. “Can you wait in the car for me, Simon? I’ll just be a minute.”
“No.” He shook his head vehemently. “I want to come in with you. Mommy says it’s dangerous to stay in the car by yourself.”
I wanted to explain to him that Mason was safe, that I routinely left my car running when it was cold outside, and Grandma hadn’t used a house key in ages. But he looked wide-eyed and scared in the rearview mirror. I decided it wasn’t that big of a deal to take him in. “Fine,” I said, turning off the car. I reached over the front seat and unbuckled him. “Can you get out by yourself ?”
Simon furrowed his brow at me. “I told you I wasn’t a baby.”
“Okay, okay.” I threw up my hands. “Climb out and come around to my side. I don’t want you walking through the parking lot by yourself.”
We entered Value Foods hand in hand, and when we were through the doors, Simon made no movement to extract his hand from mine. I held his warm fingers and was proud to have him by my side.
Alicia and Michael were lounging by the first checkout lane, and the store looked nearly dead. Catching sight of me and my pint-size buddy, Alicia smiled and raised her arms in question. “Who is this, Julia? I didn’t know we had a new employee.”
“He’s a good worker,” I teased, pulling Simon along with me. “He’s also very good at making silly faces.”
“I am,” Simon asserted and jutted out his jaw as if to prove it.
Alicia and Michael laughed. “Seriously, who is this little guy? He’s a hoot.”
I hadn’t really planned an answer since I had intended to leave Simon in the car. But I only paused for a second before I replied, “This is Simon. He’s the son of a family friend.”
Alicia crouched down and extended her arm in greeting. “I’m Alicia. It’s very nice to meet you, Simon.”
“Nice to meet you,” he said politely. He shook her hand but did not let go of mine.
Michael waved at Simon. “I’m Michael. You’ve got cool hair, buddy.” Michael ran his fingers through his own hair as if to replicate Simon’s mussed-up waves.
Simon grinned.
“You’re here for your paycheck, aren’t you?” Alicia asked, straightening up. “I brought them to the front so everyone doesn’t have to run all the way to the storeroom. Clark’s back there.” She smiled meaningfully.
“Thanks, Alicia.” I pulled away from Simon and gave him a reassuring smile, pointing him in the direction of the candy. “Go pick out a chocolate bar, Simon. I’ll buy you one if you promise not to tell your mom.”
“Really?” Simon gushed. Not waiting for an answer, he took off in the direction I had indicated.
I couldn’t help but laugh at the bob of his receding head. I was in a fantastic mood considering the events of the last few days, and, even better, Michael was across the lane from me and we were more or less alone. It frustrated me that this dark-haired guy could make my heart skip a beat. The timing was all wrong. My life was all wrong. And yet here he was, watching me with a sly smile that made me want to smile back. I was seized by a desire to flirt with him a bit, be coy and playful and fun—just to see if he would respond even a little.
Michael beat me to it. “We haven’t worked together in a while,” he said, frowning slightly to show his disappointment.
“Who makes the schedule?” I demanded, my hands going clammy and cold in spite of the flush in my cheeks. “We have to have a talk with him.”
“Or her,” Alicia said, handing me my check. “I make the schedule.”
I started, feeling like we had been caught in the act. Of flirting? What was so wrong with that? Trying to explain away my blush, I unzipped my coat and leaned against the high counter in front of the cigarettes. I bent over, resting my arms on the smooth top and feeling unusually safe and hidden with my stomach pressed tightly against the side, well below eye level.
Michael watched me with a glint in his eye before turning to Alicia. “Julia and I have lots to talk about,” he complained. “We should work together more often.”
Alicia rolled her eyes. “Yeah, I’ll get right on that.”
“That’d be great,” Michael said without skipping a beat. “I’m also due for a raise. Could you bring that up with Clark for me?”
We joked and laughed until I could almost pretend that my life was as normal and mundane as nearly every other person’s in this sleepy town. It was a soothing mirage, and I wasn’t quite ready to face my reality when Simon came bounding back.
“Look! I found a Twix! It’s my favorite candy bar. …” He trailed off, staring at me. His face had transformed so completely that even Alicia and Michael looked concerned.
“Simon, what is it?” Worry f
ractured my voice.
Simon raised a thin finger and pointed at me. “The baby!” he almost yelled. “You’re going to hurt the baby if you squish her like that!”
I could feel the color drain from my face. He didn’t say that. He couldn’t have just said that. But Alicia’s expression told me that I hadn’t dreamed it. Her mouth was open, and her eyes were round in disbelief. I couldn’t bring myself to look at Michael.
“Julia! Don’t do that!”
Startled, I straightened and backed away from the counter. “Simon, it’ll be okay,” I assured him quietly, willing him not to say more. My fingers fumbled with the zipper of my coat as I tried to hide any evidence that would support Simon’s claim.
“You didn’t have breakfast this morning either,” Simon accused.
“You have to take good care of the baby.”
“Enough.” The word was as hard and final as a guilty verdict. I pulled a dollar from my coat pocket and laid it on the counter. “That’s for the Twix.”
Taking Simon’s hand, I led him away. I could feel their eyes boring into my back and the force of their unsaid questions virtually pushing me out the door. This wasn’t the way it was supposed to be. This wasn’t what I had planned. They would have understood if only I could have been the one to tell them. They would have known that there was much more to me than this one misstep.
I was almost gone when I turned around and looked back toward Alicia and Michael, not at them. I couldn’t make my eyes meet theirs. “I was going to tell everyone soon,” I tried to defend myself. As if that would explain everything.
I buckled Simon in wordlessly and got behind the wheel.
“What’s wrong?” Simon’s voice was small and faraway.
I glanced up at the mirror and studied him as he stared into his lap. I watched him mangle the candy bar. “Nothing,” I said. But he wasn’t a baby. He knew.
I skipped the library and drove straight home, heartsick and utterly worn. My mind spun; it assaulted me from every direction and I couldn’t make any sense of what I was thinking or feeling. It was all too horrifying. A part of me couldn’t believe that it had happened, that Simon had blurted out the one secret I had guarded so carefully for four months. What was supposed to be understated and discreet was now crude and trashy. I saw myself through their eyes, and I hated what I saw.
Simon was as quiet as a mouse in the backseat, but he recognized the farm as we crested the hill and murmured something I couldn’t discern. Then he said audibly, “I didn’t mean to make you mad.”
I bit my lip, not knowing how to respond. Finally, because his face was so drawn with disappointment, I glanced over my shoulder to force a weary smile at him. “I’m not mad.”
Simon studied me seriously. “Yes, you are.”
How could I lie to him? I looked away.
“I’m sorry,” he said sadly.
“I believe you,” I whispered. I didn’t know what else to say.
Grandma was wrong. Belief has nothing to do with suspension. It is all about suppression. Forcing things down, deep down, where you hope that they will die and not grow in the darkness to emerge someday as a tree with bitter fruit.
Stronghold
WHEN SIMON AND I returned from Value Foods, it was clear to everyone that something had happened. Simon was pale and reserved, stealing glances at me as if he thought I might tell on him like some playground tattletale. Of course, I would never do such a thing, but he avoided me like a whipped puppy, and I didn’t give him any reason to behave differently. In fact, I may have contributed to his anxiety, because it rankled me a bit that Grandma and Janice gave him concerned looks. My attitude turned more and more sour with each minute we were home—I was the one they should have been worried about. Simon may have been only five, but he had ruined me in ways that I could hardly begin to grasp.
I retreated into my own world, where I could nurse my injuries and collect the sins that had been committed against me as proof of my persecution. Obviously any relationship at all with Michael was completely, indisputably over—not that I really expected anything from our flirtations. It just killed me to know that he probably cringed now when he thought of any attention he had directed at me. And the tenuous respect that bordered on friendship with Alicia was annihilated. Never mind that the entire store would most likely know by tomorrow and, consequently, the rest of the town within hours of that.
Janice sensed something dark and brooding in me and ushered Simon out the door not long after we walked in it. She claimed they had errands to run, a Wal-Mart stop to make, plus she wanted to drop off a few job applications around town. I almost made some snide comment about her qualifications or lack thereof but managed to bite my tongue before I said something we would all regret. It had been difficult for me to be mad at Simon, but with Janice in the room, my frustrations had an outlet. If I had felt beaten in the car, I felt ready to fight back when I had a worthy opponent in the house.
After they were gone, I was ready to talk—nearly bursting with pent-up disappointment and righteous condemnation—but Grandma chose to overlook the heaviness that clung to me and went about her routine as if by sheer will alone she could bring peace to our tumultuous home. I lingered wherever she was for most of the day, dropping hints and feeling sorry for myself. By the time Jeopardy! came on at four thirty, I was sullen and moody and well aware that Grandma was treating me as she would any petulant child: she was ignoring me.
I knew better than to talk during Jeopardy! but Janice and Simon had been gone for hours and my time was limited. They had been in our house for only a day, but time alone with Grandma already felt like a precious commodity, and I was conscious of every minute passing on the clock. I had no choice but to interrupt her favorite half hour of relaxation. Besides, she should have expected that I would need to get a few things off my chest. I couldn’t hold it in a second longer.
“They know,” I said, studying Grandma from where I sat buried under an afghan on the couch. The words sounded fateful to me, but my grandmother didn’t flinch.
Instead, Grandma looked up from her knitting to glance at the TV. “What is daylight savings time?” she asked, clasping the yarn in anticipation.
I followed her gaze and watched Alex Trebek smile right at her from the framed glow of the dusty screen.
Grandma grinned back. “I got one! I never get the questions right!” She laughed a little to herself and turned her attention back to the soft, nursery-green blanket. Though she hadn’t said as much, I knew that the lovingly fashioned stitches were formed for my baby. I hadn’t seen her use the delicate yarn intended for children since our neighbors had their last little boy. He was about Simon’s age now.
I sighed, and when her head jerked up, I realized that I had done so out loud. It had been a private exhalation, though it got the desired effect.
“Oh, honey, I’m sorry. You said something.”
I bit my lip in self-pity and waited for Grandma to turn down the volume on the TV. She did, then watched me expectantly.
“At the store today, Simon told Alicia and Michael that I’m pregnant.” It was a grave proclamation, and I waited for shock to register on Grandma’s sweet face.
She studied me for a moment and then pursed her lips and shrugged. “They were going to find out sooner or later. Maybe Simon simplified things.” She turned back to her blanket.
I realized that I was gaping at her and made a distinct effort to shut my mouth. She didn’t understand. I closed my eyes to shut out the hum of the TV, the click of her oversize needles. There were too many feelings stirring just below the surface to single one out and offer it to her as evidence of how I had been wronged. I felt lost in a breeze of indefinable numbness—battered and spent.
A part of me wanted to cry at the injustice of it all, but I was too affronted.
Grandma moved to turn up the volume again, and I cut in quickly before Alex could take her attention away from me. “You know, I thought that I could do this, b
ut I can’t.”
“Can’t do what?” Grandma asked absently, squinting at the TV before turning again to me.
“I don’t think Janice and Simon should stay here.”
Grandma’s smile was indulgent. “They’ve only been here for a day! I know it’s not ideal, but we’re going to work through this. You know that, don’t you?”
“I was willing to try—I even prayed about it last night—but now...” I pulled the end of my ponytail over my shoulder and curled my hair around my fingers. It was a childhood habit, and when I realized I was doing it, I quickly flicked the ponytail over my shoulder and dropped my hands.
“Is this all because Simon told your secret? Julia, you had to know that you couldn’t keep it quiet much longer. People may have already guessed.”
The thought hit me like a splash of ice water. How delusional was I in my little house of glass? I glanced down at the growing roundness of my belly and knew that she was probably right. Surely some had at least speculated. Everyone knew that I had dropped out of college, and though the reason was a mystery, it wouldn’t take much deductive power to assume that my expanding waist was why. I had tried hard to hide it, but the five-month mark was not far off, and when I wasn’t consciously sucking in, there was a tight little arc that would be obvious to the keen eye.
I could have deflated right there. All the angst and sorrow could have melted into a wave of tears that left me tired and broken. But I wanted to be angry. Whether or not people already knew, whether or not they would have known sooner rather than later, it wasn’t enough to excuse what had happened. I clung to the bitterness that rose thick and thorny around my heart.
“He ruined everything,” I muttered.
“This has nothing to do with Simon,” Grandma assured me quietly. She laid her knitting beside the rocking chair and got up to sit on the couch with me. “This is old anger. You’re mad at Janice, and you’re taking it out on Simon because he did a silly, childish thing. He is a child. Don’t be upset with him.”
