The Color of Joy

by Julianne MacLean

  “What’s wrong?” he asked, looking shaken. “Is the baby okay?”

  Waving my hands in front of my face, I dismissed that notion as quickly as possible. “It’s not that,” I replied. “The baby’s fine. I just had a fight with Sylvie.”

  His shoulders slumped with relief—or maybe it was empathy for my situation. I wasn’t sure.

  “What happened?”

  “She did something crazy, Jake.” I reached for a tissue, tugged it out of the box and blew my nose. “Remember, the other night, when we were talking about her mood swings and her hair color?”

  “Yes.”

  “She came in later because she heard everything.”

  “Oh, crap.”

  “I told her I was sorry, but this morning I woke up and found the picture of our honeymoon cottage smashed and stuffed in the bathroom garbage.”

  Jake’s eyebrows pulled together in dismay. “You’re joking. You think she put it there?”

  I nodded. “I certainly didn’t put it there myself. Mom told me she’s been seeing a therapist since she moved in here and she’s been trying out some medications, so that’s good news at least, but this is really upsetting. I don’t know what to do.”

  “What does your mom say?”

  “You know how she is. She’s always sympathetic toward Sylvie. Sometimes I’m tempted to fall to pieces and screw my life up royally, or throw a temper tantrum, just to get a little attention from her.”

  He reached forward and adjusted the screen of his laptop. I felt as if he were reaching out to stroke my arm. “But that wouldn’t be you,” he said. “You could never be a screw up, Jenn. You’re steady as a rock. You’re stronger than any woman I’ve ever known and that’s why I love you.”

  I fought to pull myself together. “I don’t feel like a rock at the moment. I feel like a giant sack of bruised, mushy pears. I don’t understand this. It must be the pregnancy. It’s making me crazy.”

  He chuckled softly. “You’ll feel better soon.” Then his expression grew stern. “Where is she now?”

  “I don’t know. She stormed out.”

  He sat back and rubbed the back of his neck. In that snug gray T-shirt, he was an impressive figure of a man. Muscular and broad-shouldered. I couldn’t believe how badly I missed him, how desperately I wanted him with me, just to touch him and be held by him.

  “It’s lucky for her that I’m in another country right now,” he said, “because I’d like to tear a strip off her. I know she’s your sister, but I won’t have her treating you like that.” He leaned forward over the desk. “I hate being so far away from you. I don’t want you to have to put up with this kind of crap. Not now.”

  I nodded in agreement.

  “Do you want me to talk to her?” he asked.

  “No, I can handle this.”

  He chewed his lower lip, pondering what I’d said. “I know you can, but you always go really easy on her. I just don’t want her to think she can get away with that stuff, especially when you’ve done so much for her.”

  “I certainly wasn’t easy on her tonight,” I told him. “That’s why she left. She must have been in shock. She’s used to curling up in a fetal position while I stroke her hair, but I totally lost it.”

  He leaned forward over the desk. “I wonder if it’s the new medications that are having an adverse effect. You don’t think she’d do anything worse than that, do you?”

  “Worse than breaking a photo frame? Like what?”

  “She did try to kill herself once,” he reminded me. “Remember…she sliced her wrists open with a steak knife. That’s kind of violent.”

  I thought about that for a moment. “She’s never tried to hurt anyone other than herself, and let’s not be too hard on her. She’s finally getting her life together and getting help. She seems to really like the program she’s in.”

  Jake frowned and shook his head. “Two minutes ago you were furious with her. Now you’re defending her. Are you feeling all right?”

  I let out a frustrated breath. “I’m fine. It’s just…my mind feels frazzled lately. It’s so hard to focus on things.”

  “Just keep your eyes open and keep in touch with your mom,” he replied. “Tell her everything that Sylvie does. Maybe you should write it all down as it happens so you have a record of it.”

  “That’s a good idea,” I replied. “I’ll do that tonight.”

  “Just make sure she doesn’t find it,” Jake cautioned me. “That might really push her over the edge.”

  Chapter Twenty-five

  September 18

  The following day I arranged to meet Sylvie at the park at lunch hour to talk about our big blow up. She hadn’t come home until after midnight the night before, which heightened my anxiety and left me tossing and turning in bed all night. I feared that without my love and support, she might slip back into her old habits of going out to bars on weeknights and becoming involved with men who weren’t good for her.

  I couldn’t help myself. As much as I wanted to take a step back and let her live her own life and make her own mistakes, I continued to feel responsible and protective of her. She was my sister. I loved her and I didn’t want to see her get into trouble.

  “Hi,” Sylvie said coolly as she found me on one of the park benches across from the play structure, which was crawling with preschool-aged children. She was sipping on a large green smoothie she must have purchased somewhere.

  Sylvie sat down beside me. I finished my submarine sandwich, balled the plastic wrapper up and set it on the bench for the time being.

  “I suppose you want to talk about what happened?” Sylvie said.

  “I just want to make sure you’re okay,” I replied. “That we’re okay.”

  For a moment she watched a young mother push her daughter on a swing, then she dropped her gaze to her lap. “I don’t know what to say, Jenn. You really threw me for a loop yesterday.”

  “Why? Because I accused you of smashing my honeymoon picture?”

  She shook her head. “That, among other things. You haven’t exactly been yourself lately.”

  “I haven’t been myself? I admit, sometimes I can get a little hormonal, but I don’t think that’s the problem we’re having.” I paused a moment. “Mom told me you’ve been seeing a therapist.”

  Sylvie sighed with defeat. “Mom has a big mouth.”

  “Why didn’t you want me to know? I think it’s a good thing.”

  Never taking her eyes off the young mother with her little girl, Sylvie squinted through the sunshine, saying nothing.

  “I wish you’d talk to me about it,” I finally said. “I want to be helpful.”

  “You are being helpful,” she replied. “You got me out of my job and helped me get into this program I’m in. I appreciate all that, I really do, but there’s another side to this.” She met my gaze directly. “You know what I’m talking about. It’s not easy for me, and I need you to accept that. Just let me deal with it in my own way.”

  “Do you mean the fact that I’m having a baby?”

  Sylvie looked away. “Yeah. It kind of rubs salt in the wound—you know what I mean?” She took a moment to gather her thoughts. “I still want to be a mom, but I’m not sure that’s ever going to happen. I still feel like I’m being punished or something, that I deserve this.”

  I nodded in understanding.

  “I’m sorry if I’m not being supportive enough,” Sylvie added, “but I’m doing my best.”

  “You’re doing great,” I replied in my usual manner of always making an effort to build up her self-confidence. “And maybe what we argued about yesterday wasn’t your fault. Mom also told me you were trying out some medications. Is it possible they might have some strange side effects that cause unusual behavior or blackouts?”

  She darted an accusing glance my way. “You’re suggesting that I smashed your honeymoon photo and don’t remember doing it?”

  “It’s possible. Maybe you should ask your doctor.” />
  She raised her smoothie and sipped through the straw. “Fine, whatever. I’ll ask,” she replied bitterly. “But I don’t want to have this conversation again, all right? Let’s just move on.”

  Regarding my sister in the harsh noonday light, I wished there was a way I could take away her pain, somehow reverse time to when she was sixteen and convince her to keep her baby—or at the very least put it up for adoption.

  “Okay,” I said, not wanting to torment her any further.

  We both looked up when a small boy screamed in pain after landing on his face in the sand at the base of the slide.

  “Did you see that?” Sylvie said. “He went down head first.”

  “Poor little guy.” I noticed a woman on another bench run to help him. “That must be his mom.”

  The woman picked him up, propped him on his feet, wiped the dirt off his face and hugged him. He continued to wail, regardless.

  “I think he’s okay,” Sylvie said, rising to collect my garbage from lunch. She carried everything to the trash can on the other side of the play structure while I sat and watched the mother tend to her son.

  A moment later I found myself rising to walk over to the baby carriage she had left behind at the bench. I peered inside at a tiny infant dressed in pink, sleeping soundly.

  “Aren’t you beautiful,” I cooed, reaching down to touch her soft cheek with the tip of my finger. She stirred and let out an uncomfortable gurgle, then squirmed and grunted. “Do you have a sore tummy?” I asked. The next thing I knew, I was reaching in to pick her up and lift her over my shoulder. I bounced at the knees and patted her on the back as I started walking back to the bench. “Sounds like you need to burp, that’s all.”

  Suddenly, a woman shouted from the play structure. “Hey! Hey!”

  I was shocked when the mother of the little boy who had fallen off the slide grabbed hold of my arm and glared at me with venom. She tried to snatch the baby from my arms. “Let go of her!”

  “Be careful!” I cautioned as I maneuvered to hand the child over.

  “Are you crazy?” the woman asked with wild eyes. The baby was now screaming and her son was crying, gripping at her jeans.

  Sylvie came running. “What’s going on?”

  Without a word, the mother turned and stalked off with her two children, pushing the carriage bumpily over the grass.

  “Did you pick up her kid?” Sylvie asked in horror.

  “She seemed uncomfortable,” I replied. “Like she had a gas bubble or something.”

  Sylvie frowned and scolded me harshly. “You can’t just pick up people’s babies in playgrounds. What’s wrong with you?”

  “I was only trying to help,” I argued.

  Sylvie shook her head at me. “Whatever. I have to get back to school. See you at home.” She, too, stalked off, leaving me standing alone.

  “I was just trying to help,” I said to no one but myself as I headed back to work.

  Chapter Twenty-six

  November 8

  “I thought it would be Sylvie sitting beside me for this,” I said to my mother. “Thanks for coming with me.” We sat down in the waiting room in the obstetrics unit. I’d just reached the twenty-week mark and had come in for a scheduled ultrasound. “I really wanted her to be a part of this. I thought it might help her work through her feelings, but here we are.”

  “You two still aren’t talking?” Mom asked.

  “Oh, we talk,” I replied as I leaned forward to pick up a magazine. “About the weather and how her day went at school. She asks me if I need anything at the grocery store when she goes, and I offer to throw some of her laundry in the machine with mine when I’m doing a load, but as a whole, it’s pretty icy in the house, if you know what I mean.”

  Mom touched my shoulder. “You’ve always been very forgiving with her, Jenn, but she crossed the line when she broke your honeymoon picture, didn’t she? No wonder she won’t admit to it, not even to me.”

  “We’ll get over it,” I said, waving a hand. “I’m not going to keep banging on that door. She’s in therapy so that’s all I could ask for.”

  The nurse appeared with a clipboard and called my name. Mom stood up with me.

  “You have the video camera?” I asked over my shoulder as I followed the nurse to the examination room.

  “I do. Right here in my purse. You’ll be able to show it to Jake tonight.”

  *

  “I hope you don’t mind if my mom films this,” I said to the nurse as I raised my feet into the exam table. “My husband’s out on some kind of mission right now, otherwise I’d have him on a live video feed.”

  “We’ve done live feeds many times,” the nurse cheerfully replied, smiling up at the camera my mother held. “Sometimes couples just can’t get their schedules to match up.”

  “You don’t have to record anything yet, Mom,” I whispered to her. “Wait until the doctor comes.”

  “Oh. Sure.” She fumbled with the device and lowered it to her lap.

  Just then, Dr. Matthis entered the room and set my chart on the counter. “Hi, Jenn,” she said.

  “Hi, Dr. Matthis. This is my mother, Patty.”

  They shook hands. “Nice of you to come.” She gave me a playful look. “A little bird tells me you want to know the gender today.”

  With my hands folded protectively over my belly, which still seemed very flat to me, I turned my head to the side to watch Dr. Matthis take a seat on the rolling stool. “Yes, we definitely want to know. Mom, you can start filming now.”

  My mother raised the camera again while I did my best to ignore it. I didn’t want to come across as awkward or self-conscious.

  Meanwhile Dr. Matthis picked up the gel bottle and squirted it noisily onto my belly. “How’s the morning sickness been lately?” she asked in a more serious tone.

  “Much better,” I replied. “I haven’t thrown up since… I’m not sure. It’s probably been awhile.”

  “That’s good news. No doubt you have some calories you need to catch up on.”

  “For sure. It was pretty bad in the beginning, but my appetite’s finally come back.”

  “And you’re still working full time?” she asked as she slid the probe in a small circle just below my navel.

  “Yes.”

  “Great.” She seemed distracted as she watched the screen, then turned the volume up on the fetal monitor to listen for the heartbeat. Static filled the room.

  “How have you been feeling otherwise?” she asked, leaning away from me to press another button on the machine.

  “Really good,” I replied.

  She continued to move the probe around while I watched the video screen with bated breath. Turning to look into the camera, I whispered to Jake, as if in private: “I can’t believe we’re going to know if it’s a boy or a girl today. It’s crazy, isn’t it?”

  I slid my gaze back to the screen and waited for the doctor to settle on the image. Since we’d done this before, at ten weeks, I had a pretty good idea what we were looking for.

  Static from the monitor continued. The doctor moved the probe further to the left and right.

  Time slowed to a surreal pace. Why was this taking so long? My heart began to pound.

  Eventually, Dr. Matthis leaned forward and shut off the machine. She turned to face me, pulled a tissue from the dispenser and wiped the gel off my stomach. “Are you sure you’ve been feeling all right since I saw you last?”

  “Yes.”

  “Have you noticed any spotting?”

  “No,” I replied with obvious concern in my voice.

  Dr. Matthis wet her lips and stared at me uneasily for a few seconds. “I don’t know how to tell you this, Jenn.” She covered my hand with hers. “I’m afraid you’ve lost the baby.”

  Suddenly I was panting as if I’d just run an uphill marathon. I shot a quick gaze at my mother and spoke curtly. “Turn the camera off.”

  She immediately lowered it and fumbled to find the stop b
utton.

  “That can’t be true,” I said to the doctor. “I’ve been sick in the mornings, but otherwise, I’ve been fine. I would have noticed if there was bleeding. There wasn’t.”

  “Are you sure?” she asked. “There would have been significant cramping as well.”

  I shook my head. “No, nothing. Can you try again? With another machine? Maybe this one’s broken.”

  Dr. Matthis regarded me with sympathy, then instructed the nurse to bring in another ultrasound machine.

  A moment later, we were repeating the same procedure with a smaller, portable unit. I kept waiting for the beautiful, rapid whirly thrum of the baby’s heartbeat, but heard only a steady stream of static. The doctor searched and searched, moving the probe over my belly until I began to weep quietly.

  “I don’t understand,” I said, pressing my palm to my forehead. “I thought we were fine.”

  The doctor shut everything off again. “I’m so sorry, Jenn.”

  The walls seemed to close in all around me. I felt like I was losing my breath. My mother moved to hold me in her arms while I struggled to grasp the heart-crushing fact that I’d lost the baby I’d wanted so desperately. The baby I’d loved and dreamed about.

  Heaven help me. How would I ever tell Jake?

  Chapter Twenty-seven

  That night, while I lay in bed in total darkness and silence, hugging a pillow and staring at the wall, my mother baked cookies in my kitchen. It was a generous but regrettably hopeless attempt to offer comfort because I was convinced that nothing could ever pull me out of this funk.

  I still didn’t understand how any of this could have happened. That very morning, barely eight hours earlier, I’d been sitting at the kitchen table with my hand on my belly, waiting eagerly to feel the baby kick for the first time, which I’d expected to happen any day.

  A gentle knock sounded at my door. My body seemed made of lead. Somehow I managed to roll onto my back. “Come in.”