by Hiba Basit
‘No, I don’t agree. There was no path! I made a choice to have a better life. There was no felt sense! Nothing predicted it! I think life is more than what it is, it’s what it could be, it’s what you want to make of it, it’s fighting against the odds, it’s doing what seems impossible. That’s what life is, not some tragedy you’ve been born into!’
‘You’re preaching to the wrong person!’
Annette suddenly remembers all of the strange, preordained phrases Alex uses to describe her life, as if the world is nothing but a passive existence. ‘Wait, how do you know this?’ she asks, suddenly curious.
‘I met up with a Romanian neurosurgeon a few years ago. I guess the topic just cropped up.’
‘Romanian?’
‘Yeah, the belief originated in Romania.’
‘Wait! How do I not know this?’
He shrugs. ‘Seeing as Alex was raised in Romania, it must’ve been passed down from one of her parents.’
Her heart skips a beat. ‘What do you mean passed down?’
‘Annie, it’s not a belief someone learns or forces themselves to believe. It’s a primordial belief. Alex feels it, it’s within her, most likely because her mother or father bestowed it upon her at birth.’
‘I don’t think Alex’s father knew about her. Could he still have passed the belief on?’
He shakes his head. ‘It must have been her mother, then. It usually is.’
‘What if the mother didn’t know about the belief? Can it still be passed on?’
‘Yeah, it doesn’t matter if she was aware or not, she’d have felt it. I bet Alex’s mother had a tough life too!’
Annette’s head spins. She places her palms on the table to steady herself.
‘Are you all right?’
‘Yeah. So it’s basically a curse. The Dripping Tap Effect, it’s a curse!’
‘Yeah, a horrible one!’ He kisses her and grabs his keys. ‘Keep a very close eye on Alex.’
As soon as he leaves, she dashes for the laptop and turns it on. Typing “The Dripping Tap Effect, Romania”, into the search engine, she scans through several articles, old and new, on the subject. She’s about to give up when something catches her attention.
“To date, there have been over three hundred and sixty-five cases of suicide reported, all of these cases have been in Romania, in families who believe in The Dripping Tap Effect. Belief in the effect is a burden on a person, and can only be reprieved through death of the person, or if they have mistakenly read someone else’s Fate, through death of that someone else, who is likely to be one of their loved ones. As of yet, we haven’t been able to find anyone who has overcome the Effect and is alive and well. Indeed, those who committed suicide had terrible lives already.
There have been no longitudinal studies to date, and the three hundred and sixty-five cases are all self-reports. This creates some doubt about cause and effect; the families of the victims believe that the curse ensured that the victims had tragic lives whereas others, mostly researchers residing in Western countries, have argued that having a difficult life led victims to believe in The Dripping Tap Effect and commit suicide, in other words what they call major depressive disorder. At this stage, causation cannot be inferred.”
What The Dripping Tap Effect means is that even if she does everything in her power to help Alex, her path has already been set in motion and her Fate will make sure she dies, death-wish or no death-wish, suicide or no suicide. She’ll never learn to balance in this world. She’ll never experience the beautiful life waiting for her on the other side of the tightrope. But no, Annette won’t let this happen. As she slams the screen shut in rage and fear, she promises to keep Alex alive, but even as she’s making the promise, something’s happening inside her, changing the certainty she once had. As she rises, her hand catches on her necklace and the chain splits in half. Without thinking, she grabs the chain and locket and buries it with Alex’s artbook in the nearest drawer she can find.
***
Back in the office, Annette files the debrief statement recently handed to her by Jordan, stating no concerns regarding her conduct. The statement done and dusted, she’s waiting for Abigail to arrive when her office phone starts to ring.
‘Hi, Jacob!’ she says, pleased to hear his voice.
‘Cal,’ he corrects. ‘Are you busy?’ he asks. She can hear the sound of water splashing in the background.
‘I can talk for a bit. Are you having a bath?’
‘Yes,’ he says, giggling. ‘Annette, can I ask you to do something for me?’
‘Go on.’ She hears him take a deep breath.
‘Do you remember the picture we took? The one with me in a lace hat?’
Annette smiles as she locates the photo in her top drawer. ‘I’m looking at it right now.’
‘Can you pin it up on your wall?’
‘On the picture board?’
‘Yeah! With the rest of them.’
A warm current fills her. ‘Sure can!’ She thinks she hears him smile. ‘It’s up!’
‘Thanks. And my duck says thanks too!’ She laughs.
‘How are Mum and Dad?’
‘I think they’re OK. They said they’ll read the leaflets you gave them and read up on gender diarrhoea.’ She struggles to stifle a laugh.
Abigail peeks in through the door with Felix. She ushers them in.
‘OK. How do you feel about that?’
‘I think it’s good.’ He pauses. ‘What do you think?’
‘I agree. They sound very understanding.’
Cal smiles. ‘Will I see you next week with Mum and Dad?’
‘Of course! See you, Cal.’ Annette turns around. ‘Felix, I didn’t know you were coming today,’ she says, gesturing for them to sit down.
‘Is that all right?’ Abigail asks.
Annette shrugs, looking at her. ‘If it’s fine with you, it’s fine by me. Plus, today’s session is simply protocol. I hear you’re back at work full-time, Abigail.’
‘Yes. It feels good. Really good, like I belong somewhere again.’
‘Good. I hear you’re doing great in your therapy sessions too. You seem more able to put your memories into words now.’
‘I am.’ Abigail glances at Felix. ‘In fact, there’s something I wanted to tell you. I want to tell you the reason I didn’t help Alex immediately. It wasn’t only because Andrei told me he’d hurt her. It was because I was scared of what he’d make me do.’
‘Make you do?’ she asks gently, knowing this must be very difficult for her.
‘When I found her, the footage from the video kept on coming back to me. It was like seeing a horrible nightmare come true. I was thinking about this at the time, when I voluntarily moved away from her and she saw me do it. I didn’t want to touch her in that state, or have Andrei make me touch her, so I stayed where I was.’
Annette allows a moment to pass as she gathers her thoughts. ‘Well, the point is that he would have killed her if your leg even wrenched forward. You saved her. You held her when she needed to be held.’ Abigail is silent. ‘Your intentions were good, Abigail!’
‘I realise that now,’ she says quietly.
‘Will you mention what you’ve told me to your therapist?’
Abigail nods.
‘Felix must have told you she’s been linked with social services. I know you can’t see her, but you’re as involved with her case as I am. I promise I’ll try my best to make sure she’s placed in a good home.’
Abigail nods. ‘We should be going,’ she says, rising. ‘Thanks for everything.’
‘It’s my job.’
Abigail cracks a smile. ‘Sure.’
‘By the way, David and I are having everyone over for dinner on Christmas Eve. Would you like to come?’
‘We’d love to, but we’re heading south to see Felix’s parents for Christmas.’
‘Oh, the parents,’ she echoes, grinning.
‘Yes. We’re finally giving the relationship thin
g a go,’ Abigail says.
‘Finally,’ mimics Felix.
‘There’s only so much harassment a woman can take,’ Abigail teases.
Felix laughs. ‘We’re just going to see how things go,’ he says modestly.
‘That’s great news! If you give me a minute to grab some papers, I’ll walk out with you.’ They wait for her outside as Annette stuffs her bag with manuscript papers and locks her door. As she reaches reception, Ellie waves a light blue envelope at her.
‘Someone left this for you today.’
Grabbing the envelope, Annette stuffs it in with her paperwork. ‘Thanks,’ she calls as she leaves the hospital, not noticing the swan mysteriously looking up at her from the corner of the envelope.
***
Annette, David, Melissa and Matt sit huddled together beneath a thermal rug, surrounded by Mel’s books, reading glasses, John’s toys and artwork, plates piled high with food and clothes scattered on the couch and across the floor. It’s been raining all week. A few hours earlier it started to ease off, but they can already hear it picking up speed again. Every once in a while, it lashes out at the trees and lamp-posts outside, making them all jump at the sound of glass breaking or a piercing thump at the door that resonates loudly in the monstrous wind.
‘It feels like we’re trapped inside a thunderstorm,’ Matt says unhappily, popping a peanut into his mouth. Melissa gazes blankly at the television screen. David squeezes her hand, noticing how ashen she looks.
‘You haven’t said much, Mel. How are you feeling?’
‘Fine,’ she answers dismissively, pulling her hand away.
Matt glances at her. ‘You haven’t spoken about the baby since... you know,’ he says.
‘Not now.’ She turns away from him.
‘We’re all family here,’ David says softly, but Melissa just sighs.
‘I know you’re all concerned, but I’m fine,’ she says.
‘That’s why you sleep with the sonogram under your pillow?’
Melissa glares at Matt. ‘I see you kissing the Babygro at night too!’
‘Look, you’re meant to be in this together,’ Annette says wearily. Melissa closes her eyes. Her face is plump and thin all at once, another constant reminder of her loss.
‘I feel like all the rules have changed,’ she says, rubbing her eyes. ‘Nothing’s perfect, but everything was at least going well. Then, snap. Just like that.’ She laughs like she’s cracked a joke, but it sounds hollow. ‘Now it’s a struggle to even get up.’
‘What about trying again?’ Annette asks.
‘No. We need to focus on the three we have. We’ve messed up one already,’ Melissa says.
‘You haven’t messed anything up. You have three beautiful children.’
Everyone is silent, not sure what to say next.
‘Are you all coming to our place for dinner this year?’ David asks, pulling Annette’s feet onto his lap. Matt glances at Melissa, who takes his hand in hers.
‘Of course,’ she says. ‘Christmas wouldn’t be the same if we weren’t all together.’
‘Great. It’s going to be a day to remember!’ Annette says, grinning.
‘Either way, pressures on you to deliver the best feast in town,’ Matt says.
Melissa leans forward to pour some more wine. ‘Stay over,’ she says, handing them a glass each.
‘You won’t get far anyway,’ Matt agrees, nodding at the rain. ‘This weather’s odd. I’ve never seen anything but sun and heat in December.’
The sound of footsteps makes them turn. Mali hovers at the bottom of the staircase in her nightgown. She waves timidly in Annette and David’s direction and then disappears into the kitchen.
‘How long has she been like that?’ Annette asks, turning her attention to Melissa.
‘She hasn’t spoken since the miscarriage.’
Matt lets out a sigh, staring at the kitchen. ‘She wasn’t meant to hear us talking. We didn’t realise she was standing there until we turned around.’
Turning the light off, Mali quietly walks back upstairs with a glass of milk in her hands.
‘I said those things,’ Melissa says, watching her daughter disappear into her bedroom. ‘I blamed her for the miscarriage. I said I’d throw her out on the street if she didn’t start behaving herself. That day, she heard me say that I couldn’t wait until she found out she’d been raped, that it wasn’t ‘making love’!’ She rubs her temples. ‘How could I have said those things to her?’
‘You were upset after your miscarriage. Have you tried talking to her?’
‘I’ve tried. She doesn’t say anything.’
Annette rises from the couch, lifting her bag onto her back. ‘I’ll go and say goodnight to her. David, do you need me to take anything upstairs for you?’
He hands his laptop bag to her and she retraces Mali’s footsteps. Dumping the bags outside her room, she taps on the door before realising she’s unlikely to receive an answer. Entering, she finds her awake in bed, the glass of milk untouched by her bedside.
‘Mind if I join you?’
Mali lifts the covers, moving slightly back to make room for her. Annette climbs in, nestling in the precious warmth Mali’s body has left in her place.
‘I’m sleeping here tonight,’ she says. Mali nods, keeping her eyes averted.
They lie there in silence until Annette turns towards her. ‘You know how I don’t like talking about my childhood. Well, I’m going to tell you something I’ve never told anyone before. I trust that you’ll keep it between us.’ Mali suddenly looks alert, eager to hear more. ‘When I was a bit younger than you are now, I saw something I wasn’t meant to see. My parents, as much as they loved me, did something that really hurt me one day. I didn’t realise it until later, but it destroyed my whole childhood. I remember my last words to my mother were “I hope I never see you again”. The next day, my father called to tell me my mother had died, lost her battle to the cancer I never knew she had. My father died a year after her. What’s strange is that they were the only ones who helped me get out of a messy situation when no one else seemed to care. I’d never be where I am now if it wasn’t for them.’
Annette remembers the night her mother died and how she wasn’t allowed to see her for one last time. The memory is so vivid as she lies there that she feels paralysed with fear and sorrow.
Mali touches her arm. Annette looks at her, breathing deeply. ‘I was so angry with them, Mali! I was so angry; I couldn’t see the wood for the trees! It was only much later that I realised my parents were doing what they thought best. Just like your parents are for you.’
Mali opens her mouth to say something but then closes it. Annette rests her palm on her cheek. Her heart aches for her and she worries it might resonate in her voice. ‘I know you think you love him. I accept that, sweetie.’ Mali buries her face in the pillow. ‘I’m here for you. We’re all here for you!’ Annette wraps her in her arms, feeling her own childhood come and go. ‘I won’t let anyone hurt you again. I promise, I’ll always be here, Mali. You can count on me!’
Once Mali is asleep, Annette drags the bags into the spare room, tossing them beside the bed. Her bag lands face down, dropping its entire contents onto the floor. Exhausted, she begins stuffing her manuscript back inside when the blue envelope falls from within the papers. She picks it up and opens it, without noticing the sticker in the corner. As she reads the message, her skin turns cold. She freezes, thinking this is a cruel joke, before she reaches for her mobile and hurriedly dials Santana’s number. It reaches her voicemail. Keeping an eye on the door, she leaves a hurried message telling her she’s booked tickets for her to come over at Christmas.
Looking back at the note, she starts to feel a familiar sensation of terror engulf her, a feeling so known to her, she’d forgotten that she’d lived without it for so many years. As she shuts her eyes, the words remain ingrained in her mind.
Hi Swanlegs, the message reads, and she loses her footing.
Chapter Twenty
The music travels softly within the warmth of the house. Everyone looks relaxed and the ambience feels magical; it wouldn’t surprise anyone if musical notes started floating around in the room like golden feathers. Colourful Christmas decorations dangle vibrantly from the ceiling and walls, and the Christmas tree sparkles amidst the simmering lights. Delectable aromas of the turkey sizzling in the oven, roasting potatoes and mulled wine fill the air. Amelie and John race around the house like speeding cars, dodging one another as well as the various guests standing near the tree and reclining on chairs. Jordan and his wife sit at the table, stuffing pies with mince and drinking mulled wine whilst watching a cookery show. Nurse Mary appears from the kitchen holding a long tray with thirty empty pie dishes and a pot of egg wash. Sitting with Jordan and his wife, she begins brushing the mixture inside each dish. In the kitchen, Santana and Mali are in charge of dessert, having finally settled on the panna cotta for the main pudding and vanilla chocolate profiteroles as afters.
By early evening, routine settles in and Annette and David take turns keeping their eye on the turkey. Melissa is busy preparing the ingredients for the eggnog and Matt has nipped out to the nearest store hoping to find it open, it being Christmas Eve, and return with golden rum, bay leaves and nutmeg.
Annette catches Melissa staring at Mali from a distance, her gaze full of remorse and longing. Seeing her without a smile, she gives her one of her own. Out of the kitchen window, lightning rips through the skies and pelts down large droplets of rain in their backyard. A brief electronic aftermath of the lightning resounds in the house, mingling with the vibrant music and the clatter of muffled voices. Above the disappearing sunset, a cluster of blackbirds soar in an orderly direction, elegantly dodging the rapid lightning rays in the dappled sky.
Turning quickly, Annette almost knocks Matt over. He shoots her a disapproving look. Sorry, she mimes as shrill laughter resounds from the main room. He waves a bottle of tequila at her, signalling to her that he’s got it for afterwards. She nods along, knowing full well that he won’t be getting her drunk, any more than he did over the past Christmases.
