by Sonya Chung
Then there was nothing. Alice’s loud breathing, one of the vertical blinds slapping in the living room, where the sliding door was cracked open. Nothing else. Not the toilet flushing or the faucet running. Charles waited a few minutes, then swung his feet to the carpet and stood in one motion.
At the bathroom door, he listened. A faint buzzing from the lights. The blinds slapping again in the living room. He put his hand on the knob, turned it, and waited. Still nothing. Slowly he pushed the door open until it wouldn’t push anymore. It opened just wide enough for him to slip his upper body in and look around. Hannah was lying on the tile, blocking the door.
He did not think to wake Alice. He did not want Alice to wake. Perhaps he should have; anyone would have thought so. But Charles was a soldier. Had been. You had to think on your feet, rely on your wits. No one else was going to save you. You were the help, the savior, the one who had to act. And it was her, Hannah, lying there. He would know how to help her.
Charles sucked in his gut and squeezed into the bathroom through the narrow opening. Hannah’s underpants were at her ankles, there was a smear of blood on the floor; blood in the toilet, blood on the girl’s fingertips. He saw the Tampax wrapper, a thick wad of stained toilet paper. Charles crouched down and listened to Hannah’s chest, put his fingertips on her wrist. With the thick elastic waistband between thumbs and forefingers, he pulled her lavender cotton underwear up, slowly, and he looked away just as he recognized the smell. Then he put his hand under her neck and head (they both nearly fit into the palm of his hand) and lifted them onto his lap as he eased himself down onto the tile.
Hannah’s head, her whole body, was warm; her face was yellowish-pink. Had she been unusually pale, he may have done differently, might have woken Alice or called 911. But she was breathing normally, her color was full, almost cherubic. She wasn’t clammy; there was no more blood as far as Charles could tell. She was all right. She’d had a scare maybe. She would be fine, she’d just had a scare.
He reached for a bath towel and bunched it into a pillow, slid it under Hannah’s head. Then he stood and ran a stream of cold water on a washcloth, kneeled down and patted her forehead, cheeks, throat. He cleaned her fingertips, then wiped the blood off the floor tiles. He rinsed out the washcloth and hung it under a towel. He kneeled again, and waited, watching her. She slept very peacefully. She looked different without her glasses, both older and younger. He could see her dark nipples through her nightgown.
The mind is so banal, so simple sometimes. Charles let his eyes run over her body and did not feel ashamed. She reminded him of someone; of course she did. And of course he’d kept it from his mind until now. He sat there and let the thought take shape, though not the memory, exactly; and he was calm.
She seemed to be cooling down. Charles moved Hannah’s hand, gently, and placed it flat on her sternum so her forearm covered her breast. He lowered the toilet lid, reached for the handle and flushed.
Hannah began to stir. Charles stood and turned off the shower light. Hannah rocked her head from side to side and pulled her knees into her middle. Charles squatted and scooped her up. The plastic applicator from the tampon fell out from under Hannah’s nightgown when he lifted her, hitting the tile and clanking much more loudly than such a small object should. Charles told her to shhhh when she made a burbling sound like a small animal. He carried her into the children’s room and shifted to hold her entirely in his right arm as he bent to straighten the blankets. Behind him, a squeaking of worn springs, and he looked over his shoulder to see Benny curled into a ball, facing the other wall, one foot hanging off the cot in a patch of moonlight.
Charles laid Hannah on the bed, then left the room, closing the door behind him.
In the bathroom he took one last look around. He picked up the plastic applicator and threw it in the trash. He went back to bed. Alice was still deep asleep.
In the morning Charles would wake Alice early and mention that he’d heard something in the bathroom during the night and had seen the Tampax wrapper on the floor this morning. “She might be unprepared,” he would say, and Alice would immediately call Hannah into the bedroom for a private chat, to ask her, kindly, eagerly, if she needed to go to the drug store. Alice would take her, would help her, because she wanted to help her, after all. And that would take care of that.
14.
There was no denying it now: they shared a secret. If there was this one, then there were a thousand. Hannah felt strange, like a curtain was rising, the house lights falling, spotlight on. She’d had that dream before, about being the lead in a play and finding herself frozen before the audience, not knowing any of the lines. But in the dream there was no buildup, no anticipation. She was simply there, without warning, as if she’d just forgotten. Now, here, it was like an unveiling of something that had been pulsing, coming to life. There was a feeling of unbearable expectancy, as if she might die if she didn’t arrive at her moment.
That morning, Alice had gone to the pharmacy and bought three sizes of pads. She’d stood in the bathroom with Hannah, facing the other way, while talking Hannah through how to pull the tampon out. Hannah was afraid: she’d never fainted before, was not eager to repeat the experience; and not with Alice. Charles had taken the children out for breakfast.
“You’ll be fine, honey,” Alice said. “Putting it in is the hard part, and you did fine with that.” Hannah had figured out that Alice knew nothing about the fainting; about Charles putting her to bed and covering her tracks. About their secret. Hannah herself woke up having almost forgotten the whole thing, but then something came back to her; she remembered seeing Charles leave the bedroom, and close the door behind him. Imagining the rest filled her with an excited fear.
Hannah managed to pull the tampon out and put the pad in place, without incident. Then they sat down at the table, and Alice made tea. She asked Hannah if she wanted to call her mother. At first Hannah didn’t understand the question. Call her mother? And say what? But then she understood, by Alice’s earnest expression, that it was something she should want to do; something that Alice, for example, would want Veda to do. Hannah thought that if she were going to call someone, it would be James; but she definitely wasn’t going to do that. So Hannah just said, No, but thanks, she was fine and didn’t want to worry anyone; it could wait until she got home. Alice smiled at her, a sad smile that prompted Hannah to say, “Is there anything to eat?”
When Charles and the children returned, Hannah and Alice were eating granola bars and apples. Charles put two large Styrofoam containers on the table. “One is pancakes, one is waffles,” he said. From his pocket he produced jam and syrup packets, and two each of plastic forks and knives, all of which he scattered on the table like nuggets of gold.
“Is she better yet?” Benny asked, tromping in figure eights around the glass coffee table and a chair.
“Why don’t you ask Hannah that, Benny?” Alice said. “I’m sure she’d appreciate the concern.”
“Are you better?” Benny’s knees came closer and closer to the sharp table corners on every pass.
“Yes, I’m fine. Thank you, Benny.”
“So let’s go, let’s go, let’s go!”
“Put your trunks on, Benny,” Veda called from the bedroom. She came out in her hot-pink plumeria blossom bikini.
“I’ll take them,” Charles said. “You two can relax here. It’s in the mid-nineties today.”
“Oh, no,” Hannah said, quickly turning to Alice. “You should go. I’ll stay. I’m fine. I’ll just … I have a book.” She’d brought Claudine à l’école, a new copy that Madame Glissant had sent via Raj (the note read: Entre nous, ma chérie). But even as she said it, Hannah knew that she would sit on the balcony, watching them.
“I thought you were fine,” Benny said.
“Stop it, Benny,” Charles said, and then he left the room to get dressed.
“What’s she doing here if she’s not even going to come with us.”
“Peopl
e can’t help it when they get sick,” Alice said. “Hannah gets sick sometimes, just like you do.”
“I don’t get sick,” Benny said.
“He’s got you there,” Charles mumbled from the bedroom.
“God, I guess that’s true,” Alice said.
“Hurry up, Benny,” Veda said. “Now you’re the one making us wait.” Keeping his rhythm, he tromped into the bedroom to change.
“Okay, then. Hannah, are you sure?”
Hannah nodded.
Alice stood, took a deep breath. “I guess I’ll get dressed and then we’ll head out in five minutes.” She shouted the last part so everyone heard.
Veda went to the closet and came back with a stack of four yellow-and-orange-striped beach towels, which she placed on the table. She unfolded one and draped it around her neck and shoulders like a shawl. Then she sat at the table across from Hannah. “How come my dad had to carry you to bed last night?” She was now stacking the syrup and jam packets into a pyramid.
Hannah stared at her. “What do you mean?”
“It woke me up.”
“You must have been dreaming.”
Veda placed the last jam packet on top, then looked at Hannah. Hannah looked back. Neither said anything more.
After the family left, Hannah pulled out Claudine and went to sit on the terrace. It was hot, but the breeze was refreshing. She left the sliding door open, something she never would have done at home, not with the AC running. But the combination of warm ocean breeze and cold air hitting her from opposite directions was perfect; the pleasure on her skin shot a burst of happiness up to the very top of her head.
From her chair, Hannah leaned forward and watched the beachgoers through the iron bars of the railing. The spaces between the bars were just a little narrower than the top of her head. A cat could easily slide through, she thought. A shoe, a book, her glasses—
She saw Benny first, leading the way across the pool area, then down the wooden staircase to the beach. Benny ran, though slowed by the sand, which looked deep and silky. The other three stopped to take off their sandals. It was early still, so they had their choice of spots and found one, a few umbrellas to the right of the lifeguard stand. They were easy to spot, even from seven stories above. Charles was a lone dark figure among white and brown skin, and he wore a maroon baseball cap.
Still, Hannah had to squint to keep them in focus. She lowered and raised her glasses, trying to see them better. Benny threw off his T-shirt and ran for the water. Alice hurried after him with floaties. Charles went to the umbrella stand, then came back and stabbed the blue umbrella into the sand, driving it deeper until it was stable, and unfolded the chairs. He sat back in one of the chairs and stretched out his legs. Veda sat next to her father on one of the towels, knees up, burrowing her feet. After a few minutes, she stood and headed for the water.
Hannah turned the other chair on the balcony to face her and propped up her legs. The girl on the cover of her book had smoky eyes and wore a boyish sailor suit. Hannah opened the book and read the first page.
My name is Claudine, I live in Montigny …. this lovely region is atrociously poor and its few scattered farms provide just enough red roofs to set off the velvety green of the woods …. There are copses … full of sun and strawberries and lilies-of-the-valley; they are also full of snakes. Dozens of times near the rose mallow I’ve stopped still, panting, when I’ve found a well-behaved grass snake under my hand. It would be neatly coiled up, like a snail-shell, with its head raised and its little golden eyes staring at me; it was not dangerous, but how it frightened me! But never mind all that: I shall always end by going back there, alone or with my friends. Better alone, because those girls are so young lady-ish that they annoy me. They’re frightened of being scratched by brambles; they’re frightened of little creatures such as hairy caterpillars and those pretty heath-spiders that are as pink and round as pearls …. Heavens, how I love the great woods! I feel so much alone there, my eyes lost far away among the trees, in the green, mysterious daylight that is at once deliciously peaceful and a little unnerving because of the loneliness and the vague darkness …
Hannah’s eyelids grew heavy. Her body felt like molten lead—no longer swarming, but solidified into something thick and torpid. As her eyes were about to drop closed, she saw the maroon cap turn, and Charles’s dark face raised up toward her. Hannah’s eyes closed, then opened, then closed. She saw Charles’s face behind her lids, the handsome face; she saw it as it was that first day—unbearded, off guard, slightly slack-jawed. Hannah did not open her eyes again but held this vision. She fell asleep with her right hand squeezed between her knees, ankles crossed, mouth open. The sun warmed her, and she felt neatly coiled up, deliciously peaceful. She dreamt of the velvety French countryside, and of venetian blinds flapping in mysterious daylight.
15.
On Tuesday, the third day of her bleeding, Hannah felt better. She wanted to go swimming in the ocean. She was tired of sitting, tired of lying down. The second day had been the worst, just as Alice had warned her. On the third day, Hannah told Alice in private that she wanted to try swimming. Alice nodded, and they went again together to the bathroom, where Alice handed Hannah a tampon, this one much smaller. “Just shout if you need me,” Alice said, almost eagerly, pulling the door behind her but not shutting it.
This time Hannah had no problem. She changed into her racing suit and pulled her hair into a low ponytail. She felt good, and ready to swim hard against the current, like her coach had told her. She felt like one of those pretty pink-cheeked girls on the Tampax TV commercials, “fresh” and “ready for anything.”
She came out in just her bathing suit, holding her clothes in a bundle.
“Finally,” Benny said, mouth full of Cheerios.
“You look sporty,” Alice said.
“I bet I’m faster than her,” Benny said, then raised his hand to his mouth to catch the Cheerio dribble.
“You can only dog paddle,” Veda said. “And besides, Hannah is, like, a real swimmer.”
“It’s just ’cause of the floaties,” Benny said. “Mom said I could take off the floaties today.”
“Only in the pool. Only in the shallow end,” said Alice.
“If you want, I can take him to the deep end,” Hannah said, cheerfully. “Look.” She grabbed Benny under the armpits and lifted him to her chest. She used her legs to lift, and breathed out when she straightened. It was strange how strong and good she felt, as if the last two days had been a kind of metamorphosis. Benny kicked his legs and howled until Hannah let him down. “He’s only a quarter this weight in the water.”
“Let him swim,” Charles said, rattling his newspaper. He’d gone early to the deli for cereal and milk and the paper, before anyone was awake. “We’ll rent those boogie boards. The other children are fine on them.”
“Boogie boards! Yessss!”
“I don’t know … Hannah, have you ever …”
“Only at the water park, but it’s probably the same. They’re wide enough for two. I’ll ride with Benny.” Benny stopped jumping up and down and was about to pout at the idea of not having his own board; but then he thought better of it. It took Benny a moment longer than it might have an older child, or a smarter one, but he recognized that it was the best deal he was going to get.
Alice puckered her face, and they all knew she was going to say yes. “Veda, you stay close, too.”
“I’ll ride with Veda.” Everyone looked at Charles, who continued to look at his paper. He’d spoken nonchalantly, but he knew, as they all did, that he’d made an exciting announcement. Charles had barely gone in the water, just waded in a few times to cool off, always wearing his cap. That’s usually how it was—Charles supervising, surveying. On the rare occasion when he participated, the children knew it was something special. Hannah had watched him from the balcony, watched him watching; how when Charles was ready to turn from the shoreline and sit down again under the umbrella, he stretched o
ut his arms and arched his back, like a surrender—to an enemy, or a god.
They were all giddy with shock, speechless.
“Well, hurry up,” Charles said, looking up now. “Clear your bowls.”
Hannah held her bundle tight against her chest. Dress rehearsal was over.
The sand was cool on their feet. The sun had been hidden behind fat white clouds all morning. They were cumulus clouds, and the patches of sky between them were blue. The day was bright, but cooler than the days before.
As Hannah barefooted through the sand, she smiled at her toes. The sand was gritty and ticklish, and she liked the funny feeling of sinking with every step, being swallowed by silky softness. The family made their way to the same spot, their spot now. It was quieter today, more older people and fewer teenagers. The tide came up a little higher on the beach, filling in holes where umbrellas had been planted and washing away a lumpy sand castle.
Once they’d set up camp, Charles reclined as usual in his chair. Benny and Veda, and Hannah too, sat on their towels and waited. Alice applied sunscreen, first to Veda’s shoulders, then to Benny’s nose and forehead; then to her own entire face and body. Hannah had shaken her head when Alice held the bottle out to her.
Charles sat back, and they all waited. They knew better than to rush it, to ruin a good thing. The muted sky was heavenly somehow, the air humid but not unpleasant; there was a stillness that seemed to warrant respect. They were all five of them in sync in their silence. They sniffed the salt breeze with their eyes closed, like newborn puppies. There were very few people in the water, no children. It was probably too cold yet. Benny began digging around Veda’s legs and burying them, and she let him.
Hannah stood up. “I’ll see how it is,” she said. She wanted to swim on her own, even just for a minute, before having to bring the children in. It didn’t matter if it was too cold, she’d warm up quickly if she swam hard.
