Fear of Heights

by Mara White

  I wonder if it’s my fault? I have knife-twisting thoughts that maybe the child was marked somehow, a reflection of my misdeeds, a pain to match the pain I’ve caused.

  I’m broken.

  But the fever continues. Whatever it is that’s attacking my body won’t give up. The ever-present IV has been sustaining me, but I can’t imagine it can go on like this much longer.

  I weave in and out of consciousness; Janinie is sometimes present and sometimes not. She talks to me through the sleep-like curtains that have shadowed my mind. I want to tell her things, but I can’t ever seem to make it back to the surface.

  There is always Jaylee. He never leaves me. The memory of his scent cushions me and pillows my body. His arms wrap around me, shielding me from some of the dark thoughts that attack me like poisoned arrows.

  And sometimes there is my daughter Pearl, again a tiny baby. Teething. Gnawing on my pointer finger, while drool runs down my wrist. Every few minutes she stops and sucks my finger into her tiny mouth—the power of it jerking my hand forward and I laugh out loud at this robust little creature. I wish Robert were here to share these moments and to hear her huge burps. But it’s just me and Pearl and her milky smiles. Her big eyes, and her tiny pink tongue.

  And Ada is here with me too. So determined, this girl. Marching ahead of me onto a crowded train, pulling her small body up onto the seat.

  “Don’t help me, Mom, I can do it myself!” It’s the only seat empty, because of its partner. A dirty and smelly homeless man sits there, his longish hair half up under a cap, the rest falling in greasy tendrils around his weathered face.

  “Hi!” says Ada to him. This grabs the attention of everyone on the train. I long to pull her away from the foul-smelling man, but hold back because her innocence humbles me. He smiles a blackened, checkerboard grin. Ada sits too close, and his green jacket, dulled by oil and dirt, hangs near her bright fleece. Her plump hand grabs the closest corner of his jacket and she pipes, “Hey, we’re both wearing green!” Ada’s love knows no criteria, no constraints.

  And Jaylee. Always Jaylee. His hands on my heated flesh. Cool and calming and measured like the sea. His eyes bathing me in love light, anointing me, tempering my feverish universe. I believe I’m dying. If death is near, I’m not afraid to be set free.

  I thought what happened might make him hate me. His child has slipped through my hands. But it’s his presence that beckons me back from the turbid deep. I hear him in my sleep. But then I wake up and it really is his voice speaking to me.

  “Kate.”

  It’s his voice on speakerphone, offered by Janinie’s hand.

  “Baby, hang on.”

  “Call Robert,” I whisper.

  The doctor returns.

  It’s sepsis.

  I think I know what that means.

  Chapter 3

  Hospital General de la Plaza de la Salud, Santo Domingo, República Dominicana

  The fever is gone; I’m finally clear. But I feel emptier than I’ve ever felt. Any vision of permanency I had with Jaylee was directly connected to this child. His child. I feel like I’ve lost everything. The sand just keeps leaking out of the sieve of my being.

  I stare at the purple bruise that fades into a disturbing yellow where the needle meets my vein.

  I have known vulnerability before, but I’ve never touched anything like this. It’s as if my very soul slipped silently away from me while I slept. I have nothing to hold on to.

  Robert is here; he brought me to the hospital. I won’t die. But this knowledge brings me little relief. My baby is gone. I lost Jaylee’s child, and perhaps with it, the leverage to save his life.

  What have I done, within just a year’s time, but to completely ruin my life? I am not a seriously religious person, but I do have a vision of life on a fated path, like a natural unfolding of patterns. I understand that there are bumps and accidents, roadblocks and unforeseen detours.

  But this? I did this. To myself. To all of us. I willingly stepped outside of my pattern and knocked down the whole damn house of cards. Ada and Pearl deserve more than this. As do Jaylee and Robert and the tiny, unborn baby.

  Robert massages my hand. His are so warm and soft. He applies a gentle pressure between my thumb and forefinger: a remedy for migraines, if I remember it right. He switches back and forth between both hands. It’s a gentle, whispering, Morse code, as if he were trying to clear my own mind for me. He coaxes out the pain and the terror that’s come from being dead wrong.

  “Where are the girls?” I manage. My own voice sounds foreign to me.

  “At your parents’. They’re fine. Emily and Carmen are going over to help out. Your mom is delighted to finally be able to dress them how she wants.”

  “I sent them some messages through Sarah when I first arrived. I didn’t want them to think I’d left them. Then I got too sick.”

  “That was the trail we were pursuing. It’s not like Sarah to call every day and ask for the kids. It was sort of a giveaway that she knew where you’d gone. I had my suspicions, but I wasn’t about to search a whole country. We tracked her phone calls, because she refused to tell us where you were. Then Jaylee called.”

  Jaylee. His name like ice and fire. The hum of existence begins again for me at the mention of his name. The mere sound of it is combustible, It ignites a flame in my mind. His inhale. His exhale. The flutter of his lashes against my shoulder. My heart charges in response. An echoing thud in my back. I can feel it in my ribs. I’m alive. I still want him like I want oxygen. Nothing has changed.

  All of these feelings rush through me as Robert caresses me calmly.

  “I spoke to him when I was delirious. He sent you to me.”

  Robert nods.

  “I had a dream that I saw bloody hands and a bucket of bloody water.” The image grips my mind as I remember. “Was that really a dream?”

  Robert only nods and smoothes my hair back from my face.

  “Is something wrong with me?” I ask him, unsure of what anything means.

  “You’ve undergone a huge trauma, Kate. Things are bound to feel strange.”

  “But I don’t feel anything, Robert. I don’t feel anything at all. I think something is wrong with me.” I pull myself up to sitting and stare down at the white hospital sheets.

  “Shhh. All of this is over. We have a lot of healing ahead of us. We’ll get through it. You’re stronger than you know, Kate. Stronger than I even realized.”

  “I want to see Jaylee. I need to. I lost his baby,” I say, sliding back down and covering my face with my hands. I don’t know if it’s unfair to cry about this in front of Robert. Is he relieved, or does he share in some of my loss?

  “You can see him when we’re home. You did what was best for you and your family. He can’t blame you for that. You did the right thing.”

  “But—” I stop.

  I did the right thing? Shut up, Kate! He thinks I had an abortion. This must be Janinie’s doing: a different version of the truth. If it really was my decision, Jaylee would hate me, but he’d hate me as a free man. Robert doesn’t need to know what happened here. His ignorance can be his bliss, my secret—and maybe Jaylee’s salvation.

  “When can we go home?”

  “Once they get you off of the antibiotics, you should be able to leave. I might have to go sooner; there are some things at work that can’t wait.”

  “And Janinie? Did she leave?”

  “I’ve gotten her a hotel. She wanted to stay at the house, but I refuse to leave her alone with those men. She’ll come home with you. I spoke with her mother this morning.”

  “Oh? How did that go?”

  “She said they were worried, but she didn’t sound very convincing. They certainly didn’t report her as missing, so I’m guessing they knew.”

  “They helped us arrange it. That’s their family’s house we were in.”

  “What were they thinking? Allowing a child to chaperone you? Undergoing an abortion in a developi
ng country? What were you thinking? We’re lucky you two are both alive. But then again, they lead a very different lifestyle.”

  “I wouldn’t be alive, Robert, if it weren’t for Janinie.”

  “You wouldn’t have almost died, if she hadn’t brought you here.”

  A nurse enters the room and tells me in Spanish that Robert has a telephone call from the States. I translate for him and tell him to go with her. She excuses herself before she leaves the room.

  “Con permiso,” she nods at me.

  “Propio,” I reply.

  Robert must have put in a request for a private room; this one seems far too nice for standard fare.

  I pull open my hospital gown to get a better look at the catheter that delivers antibiotics straight to my heart. I wonder if this heart-cleansing can cure me of all my ailments, including whatever it is that makes me so weak.

  Can a pure heart rescue a sinful body? I don’t think so.

  Yet I do start to find light and love in every sip of air that I take. For Ada, and for Pearl. I am on the receiving end of a miracle and I don’t really understand why. I don’t deserve this second chance at life.

  Robert reenters the room looking concerned, but still businesslike and important. Somehow he’s always in charge. I notice he’s even wearing a tie.

  “Jaylee will call in five minutes. I’ll leave you alone. Don’t regret the decisions you’ve made. You did the right thing—for everyone.”

  Nausea and grief overtake me at once.

  “Is that who called? Are you two talking?”

  “Kate, I’m his counsel, of course we’re talking.”

  “I can’t talk to him—not yet. I’m not ready.”

  “Best to get it over with. I’ll come back as soon as you’re done.”

  Robert kisses my forehead and gives my hand a light squeeze. Something tells me that he might be enjoying this role. I can only imagine what he said. He’s Jaylee’s legal counsel now—he’s probably giving him all sorts of advice. And Jaylee, so powerless, having no choice but to accept Robert’s help. The level of intimacy my husband shares with my lover is perverse.

  The phone connection with Jaylee is static and tinny.

  “Kate, I fucked up. I failed you.”

  “Jaylee, it’s so good to hear your voice. I wish I could touch you—hold you. But even just your voice does so much for me.”

  “I failed you in the worst way. I’m a piece of shit. I don’t deserve you. I never did.”

  “I’m happy to be alive right now—talking to you. It’s okay. We’re okay. Everything is going to be all right.”

  “I wanted to tell you that—I wish I’d taken it all more seriously, but I risked everything cause I didn’t know how much it mattered. Until it was too late. You mean everything to me, Kate. You and the baby.”

  I can hear an imminent catch in Jaylee’s voice that reaches its apex with the mention of the baby. I’m fairly sure he can’t cry in jail. I think bad things happen to you if you let you your guard down in places like that.

  “Is Robert there?”

  “Yes, but he’s not in the room.”

  “You gonna be okay? I mean, with everything?”

  “Yes. I’m going to be fine. Janinie is safe too.”

  “I’m glad he’s there with you. As fucked up as it sounds. That he can just swoop in and fix everything like he’s fucking Superman. You chose the right guy,” he says sardonically.

  “I’m glad he’s here too.”

  “Maybe we should just end it now. Make it official. Before I get anymore fucked up, before we both do.”

  I can’t say anything. I’ve got no answer for this.

  “Eres el amor de mi vida, Kate. I wish it could’ve been different for us.”

  The phone clicks and the line goes dead.

  Goodbye, Jaylee. In this moment, I do wish death would take me. Annihilate my body and take along with it this unbearable pain.

  I count taking in measured breaths. I can’t let Robert see me fall apart over this. I won’t let it be him who helps me through this.

  Robert’s laptop is sitting on my bedside table. He’s been working remotely since he arrived. Robert never stops working. And who doesn’t feel like defending criminals while their wife lies in a hospital bed contending with death?

  I grab the computer almost instinctually, not with the intent to spy, but rather to distract myself. I’m eager for the chance to discover what goes on inside his head. Although we live together, our lives couldn’t be father apart. It’s not like I haven’t looked before: Robert is notorious for leaving a million browser windows open, and it’s like an abbreviated glimpse into his mind, each window highlighting what he was thinking about, following his train of thought. I guess what I’m looking for is information on Jaylee. It’s a perpetual habit to seek him out, a natural rhythm that I’ll have to try to force myself to undo.

  The first few windows are all legal documents, I scan them but see nothing with Jaylee’s name. One is a website called “inmate lookup.” I click the tab and see a recognizable face. It’s not Jaylee but rather his father, Elías, whose light-colored eyes are piercing despite the bad copy of an outdated mugshot. The man’s intensity still comes barreling through.

  What is it a about seeing Jaylee’s father that makes my heart ache deeper—makes me long to change what I can’t undo? I scan his profile, noting that all of his charges are drug related; he’s a non-violent offender hit hard by the Rockefeller laws—as were so many others, so many other fathers.

  Other tabs are real-estate listings. I’ve always found these whenever I look. Robert and a close friend from law school invest together in an occasional flip. While they make some money, I think the competitive bidding draws them both in. It’s gambling made legal, and perhaps also constructive. They prefer to do uptown brownstones, but these listings are all in Connecticut.

  I flip the computer closed like a guilty child when Robert abruptly enters the room.

  “I just wanted to see if I could look up his charges.”

  “Don’t worry, Kate, I’ve got it all under control. I just wanted you to make clear to him that it’s over, so he makes no mistake about coming around. I’ve got the ability to exonerate him completely, but I also won’t hesitate to take him down.”

  Robert reserves the right to make my life a living hell.

  The nurse suggests Robert give me some time alone to rest. Without my husband in the room all I can do is rehash my phone call with Jaylee. How do you end something like this? I couldn’t tell him yes or no. I can’t make myself stop loving him. I think my body will go into shock if he permanently removes himself from me. Without him, the sickness will devour me. It will swallow me whole.

  End it now, from this hospital bed, so far away from him? Agreeing to it would be like agreeing to suffer an agonizing death. A slow drip of pain, doled out in small enough portions to allow you to survive, but make every inevitable breath unbearable. A torturous drip until thoughts of the beloved evoke, more than any other emotion—fear. Because this is a death that we can die over and over and over again.

  If I must close this chapter of my life, I’ll do it with dignity. I know that I have loved a man who was more than worthy of my love, and who, for the briefest moment, was mine. I will never have remorse for the beauty that passed between us.

  After hours of crying, I’m given a sedative to help me finally fall asleep. Robert returns to sit by my side and comforts me as if I weren’t crying for another man. Our vows do seem to guide his actions; he offers his comfort with genuine affection. I’m too distraught to make any attempts at atonement, and perhaps, by now, the damage runs too deep and there’s nothing to be said. Or maybe Robert’s generosity comes from the win, and he’s more than happy to comfort my loss as the gracious victor. Either way, I need him. I’d unravel completely if he weren’t here to keep me sane.

  When I wake up, it’s early morning. Robert has fallen asleep in the chair by my side, his clo
sed computer resting on his lap. His arm stretched out across the divide that separates us, his palm settled on my belly.

  It reminds me of the moments when our connection to each other was at its most fierce and poignant, during the births of both Ada and Pearl. Then, we were bathed in an abundance of love toward one another, toward our infant daughters, toward our family and friends.

  Robert came to save me because although I’ve wronged him, we’ve still maintained our familial bond. He wouldn’t let me die alone here. I’m the mother of his kids. He’s saving me not out of romantic love, but a need to pick up the pieces, to clean up after yourself and your own.

  I cough and Robert opens his eyes. He looks at me with affection, laced with pity. He moves his fingers softly over my belly and then along my shoulder, caressing me with the same tenderness he bestows upon our daughters.

  “You look better. Your color is back and your eyes are clear. I was worried there, Kate. I almost thought I’d lose you,” he says, his voice cracking. Tears appear in his eyes, a rarity in all of our years together. I hug his arm to my face.

  “Oh, Robert. I’m so sorry! I’m such a fuck-up. I always thought we’d have to deal with your midlife crisis at some point. It never occurred to me that I would be the one to fall.”

  He looks at me affectionately, and then grows thoughtful. “If you want to label it, I’d say it’s more like a mission, not a crisis.”

  “What do you mean?”

  Robert brushes my hair back along my temple and leans in over my face.

  “I get it, Kate. You’ve always had everything you ever wanted, and you could never understand why. Then you found someone who’d never had anything handed to him, and you wanted to fix it. You want to provide for him—to fill the void. Maybe balance out what was given to you.”

  Robert thinks Jaylee is my charity case.

  “Doesn’t everyone want to do those things for the people they love?”