Faltering

by Jennifer Lyndon

  “You’re what?” I asked sharply.

  “Pregnant.” She smiled softly and placed her hands over her stomach. “You know how much I want a child, Sylvie. I’m going to have one. Because of you I’ve been so happy, and I’ve been healthier too, no bleeding or cramping. I’ve hardly been sick this time. I feel strong. Really, I do. This time I’ll be able to keep my baby alive. I feel it. I didn’t know how to tell you before, but there it is. I said it, finally. I’m having a baby.” She looked so pleased, excited even, but her words had knocked the wind out of me. It took me a few moments to slow my thoughts. The first thing that came to my mind flew from my lips.

  “You’re still sleeping with him,” I said evenly. She shook her head.

  “Oh honey, no, of course I’m not sleeping with him right now. Don’t think that for a second. He hasn’t touched me in over a month, not since I told him about the baby. It was before you, Sylvie,” she offered quickly. “I’m thirteen weeks along.”

  “Jesus,” I said softly. “And you’re just now telling me.”

  “You’re the first person to know, well, except for Joe, and my doctor. I never tell anyone when I’m pregnant, not anymore. Do you know how many I’ve lost?” I shook my head. “Five. Five babies have lived and then died inside of me. And I never know what to do, whether to bury them, or name them. The only one I was able to carry was my little boy. I swear he was born alive. I heard him cry, but…” she trailed off, her expression clouding. “This one will live. I’m certain of it.” She nodded rubbing her abdomen gently across the scar I knew was there. “I won’t do anything to risk losing this child. And you have to help me, Sylvie. You’ll take care of me so I don’t lose him, won’t you?”

  “What are you asking of me?” I said quietly.

  “Nothing really, only that you’ll continue to love me, and make me happy,” she whispered, her expression softening as she looked into my eyes. She lifted her hand to caress my cheek, leaning forward to capture my lips.

  “Lara, I can’t stay here,” I said against her lips. She drew back, puzzled. “I won’t. You can’t ask that of me. I never intended to move back here, not for good.”

  “What do you mean?” she asked in a flippant tone. “Of course you’ll stay here. You told me you’re in love with me. Of course you’ll stay with me if you love me.”

  “You know good and well it’s not that simple. I have no work here, and Mamma’s doing fine now, except for the hospital bills she can’t pay. I couldn’t stay here for you even if it was what I wanted. But it’s not. I want to go back to Chicago, to my old job, and the life I’ve built there. I have to help Mamma pay those bills. She could lose her house if I don’t.” She was perfectly still as she waited for me to finish. “Come with me, Lara. I don’t see why we can’t be together. I mean, your pregnancy complicates things, sure, but I can earn enough to cover the expenses of raising a child if I have to. I’ll take more shifts. I’ll do whatever it takes. I have a good job and the people up there are different, less judgmental. You’d like it. We could be together, and raise your child together.” She leaned forward against me and I wrapped my arms around her.

  “You’re such a little kid sometimes,” she whispered, her mouth pressed against my neck. “Still, I can’t let you go. I won’t. You make me so happy, happier than I’ve ever been. Without you my life’s unbearable. If you leave me, I’ll fall apart again.”

  “Then you’ll come with me?” I asked, expectantly. She shook her head, easing back to meet my eyes. “Why not?”

  “I told you. I can’t live like that,” she explained. “And how could I possibly inflict that on an innocent child? Can you imagine the life he would have, fatherless and strange? I can’t even imagine how confusing it would be.” I thought back on my own childhood with a shudder and grudgingly considered that maybe her argument had merit. It wasn’t easy being a bastard. “I want you to be happy, Sylvie. You’re my girl.” Her smile was a little tight, strained. “I’ll buy you beautiful things and take care of you. There’s no need for you to work. And we’re happy this way, aren’t we?”

  “I love you.”

  “I know, baby. So, let me take care of you,” she said.

  “You want to keep me, like a pet,” I observed. She kissed my neck before shifting in my arms to reach my lips. She kissed me gently, deeply, and then pulled back to look into my eyes.

  “You are my pet, my sweet, sweet, girl,” she whispered. I shook my head. “I’ll give you whatever you want. Name it. I’ll take care of Hattie’s bills, and I’ll spoil you, Sylvie. I’ll satisfy your every whim and desire. I’ll make you so happy you won’t be able to stand it.” For a moment I was nearly tempted, but then every fiber of my being reacted.

  “No,” I said, pushing back from her. She caught hold of my hand as she got to her feet, pulling me up. Gently she guided me back over to her bed. “You don’t understand. I want to go back to work. I’m good at it, Lara. It’s who I am.”

  “Is that all you think about, working in that horrible hospital? I know what. I’ll hire you as my nurse again. You can move into one of the guestrooms, and take care of me while I’m pregnant,” she said, pushing me down on her bed as her fingertips worked through the buttons on my dress. “I’ll pay you whatever you want. I don’t want Hattie to lose her house any more than you do, honey. And when the baby’s born you can be his nanny. That way we’ll be together everyday, raising him. Think about it. It’ll be perfect.” I shook my head and was about to argue when her lips pressed against mine, stilling my thoughts.

  -CH 3-

  November 1975, Sylvie is 24 years old

  It was morning, time to face another day of hiding. Barely able to summon the energy to haul my bloated body out of bed, but through some small miracle not yet doubled over retching into the toilet, I stumbled to the coffee pot and spooned dark coffee grounds onto the white paper filter. A knock at the door of my new apartment halted my progress for a moment before I set the coffee maker to dripping. I groaned and finished starting the coffee, exasperated at the thought that Anders was back to plead his case, and pressure me again. I shook my head. It had to be Anders. No one besides Anders and Mamma knew my new address.

  Gathering my defenses tightly around me, I approached the door, mentally rehearsing my argument. Defensively, I tightened the belt on my old, yellow, terrycloth bathrobe. The knot hitched up high on my ribs, above my bulging belly. I tried not to notice, but straightened my posture for added height and fortitude. It was getting harder and harder to justify rejecting his offer, but I knew capitulation would mean a sort of end to me, or to my sense of honesty anyway. He’d been a mistake, a fairytale I’d tried to sell myself, a failed attempt at the status quo. I had to remember, no matter how kind he was, or how ugly my new life was becoming, agreeing to be with him was agreeing to a lifetime of lying.

  Bolstered by that sliver of integrity to which I clung, I looked through the peephole on the door. Rather than Anders, I saw silvery blond hair peeking out from under the hood of a palomino mink coat, a bowed head. My heart started hammering in my chest as I willed her to glance up so I could see her eyes, those lips. She didn’t. I stepped back from the door to compose myself, to wipe away the tears that were suddenly blurring my vision. Rubbing the sleeve of my robe across my face briskly, I took a deep breath and gathered my courage. She knocked again, this time with more determination.

  I unlatched the locks, my intractable hands trembling awkwardly, shaking against my will. I had to stop and collect myself. When I opened the door I stepped back quickly, burying my hands deep within the pockets of my robe so she wouldn’t see my weakness. Standing before me after so long, she appeared startled and small, paler than when I’d last seen her, her hazel eyes enormous and almost grey in the too bright, fluorescent, light of the hallway. At first she neither moved nor spoke, as her gaze traveled over me, halting at my stomach before returning to my eyes. She seemed to stumble or lose her balance for just a moment, but then she gripp
ed the door frame with one gloved hand, righting herself. She met my eyes for the first time, hesitantly, before stepping the tip of her foot across the threshold.

  “Do you mind if I come in, Sylvie?” she asked with more bravado than I’d anticipated.

  I nodded and looked away from her to the dingy yellowing walls of my apartment, the stained brownish carpet, and the incongruous furniture that had come with the place. My beautiful Lara didn’t belong in such surroundings. She was regal, elegant in her movements, the contrast showing my apartment to be even shabbier than I’d believed it. She stepped past me quickly, the soft fur of her coat sweeping my hand as her cool eyes took in abysmal surroundings. She shrugged from under her coat in a graceful movement, hooking it across her arm, and then, with practiced precision, she pulled at the fingertips of her tan leather gloves before extracting those soft delicate hands that knew my body so well. She turned to face me, a single eyebrow lifted, an unspoken questions hanging between us. You left me for this? I’m worth less to you than this tattered hell you’re living?

  Ignoring her tacit communication, I collected her coat and gloves, and then draped the fur coat across the back of a formerly velvet, but currently threadbare chair. Her supple gloves I pressed to my lips for only a moment before carefully resting them across the seat. When I turned back around her focus was trained on me. “Do you mind if I sit? To tell the truth, I’m exhausted.” I nodded and indicated a place on the sofa. She glided over and perched on the edge of it, waiting for me to join her. I sank into the old brown chair with the stuffing coming out of the arm, safely across the coffee table from her. As I took in her paler, it dawned on me she looked hungry, and tired. There were faint bruise colored circles beneath her eyes.

  “Can I get you something? I could make breakfast. Some eggs, or a sandwich maybe?” She smiled and my chest tightened painfully.

  “Thank you, Sylvie. I smell coffee. A cup of coffee would be a godsend.” I nodded and stood up, leaving her alone as I made my way around the dividing wall and into the kitchen.

  I poured us each a mug and mixed in cream and sugar, the way I knew she took it, and carried both mugs back into the living area. I placed her mug down on the coffee table in front of her and returned to the safety of my chosen chair, before taking a deep sip from my own mug. It was too early in the morning for this altercation. I hoped the caffeine would jolt my mind into gear.

  “You never drink coffee,” she observed, smiling as she lifted her mug. “You prefer tea. You always have.”

  “My tastes have changed,” I answered under my breath. Flinching slightly as her smile vanished. She diverted her gaze and eased back on the sofa, her features suddenly taut, her beauty austere, distancing. I tore through my own composure trying to allow myself to realize her presence.

  “Are you at all pleased to see me, Sylvie?” she asked. “I honestly can’t tell.” I watched her for a moment, taking in the sadness in her eyes and the strange sharpness in her features. She’d lost quite a lot of weight since I’d last seen her. I knew she’d be too skinny under her dress, all points and angles.

  “I didn’t expect you,” I answered. “You’ve taken me by surprise.”

  “That’s not an answer,” she replied. “Would you rather I were not here? Tell me so and I’ll leave you now,” she offered. I swallowed back the pain in my chest.

  “Why are you here?” I asked. “Do you have some business in Chicago, family, or something like that?” She smiled sadly, her eyes focused intensely on me as if I were a puzzle she was deciphering.

  “The later, of course,” she replied. She raised her eyebrows and sort of chuckled, but it wasn’t a happy sound. “The something like that.”

  “Oh.” I nodded. “I didn’t think you had people up here.” She shook her head.

  “Christ, Sylvie! You’re my people, all of them that matter anyway. I was referring to you, you goose,” she said with false cheer, glancing away from me as if I were hard to look at. “I’m here because it’s where you are.” She ran a trembling hand across pale hair, tucking back those recalcitrant strands the Chicago wind had blown loose from the twist she was wearing. “You wouldn’t take my calls. You haven’t written, and Hattie won’t tell me anything about you. I can’t even imagine what you could have said about me to make her so obstinate. I’ve always loved Hattie. It was cruel of you to turn her against me.” I shook my head, confused. I’d never spoken a word against Lara to Mamma. “I had no choice but to track you down, at the wrong address I might add.”

  “Oh,” I said again. I didn’t know how to respond. “How did you find me then?”

  “Look, honey…” She stopped, seeming almost flustered, and then started calmly. “Listen, I did what you wanted. I let you leave me. I gave you the time you asked for, before trying to contact you. I didn’t even call you when I lost…” She cleared her throat. Her husband had died almost a month earlier in a car accident. Mamma said the talk was that he was drunk. “We were friends before anything else, weren’t we? Why can’t we be friends still? Why won’t you talk to me? Why won’t you have anything to do with me? Do you hate me? Is that it? Are you trying to punish me?”

  “You didn’t get our flowers?” I asked.

  “Flowers?” she spat, as if I’d insulted her. Her eyes flashed anger. “Are you referring to the flowers Hattie signed your name to for Joe’s funeral?” I nodded. She sighed dramatically.

  “I’m sorry for your loss. I did not know Joe well, but he was always polite to me. I’m sure you’ve been upset.” My words sounded hollow.

  “You’re not allowed to say that to me,” she snapped. “I can’t believe you could try to condole with me over Joe. You spiteful little hypocrite,” she added. “My husband was a drunken bully, but I was utterly faithful to him, with the obvious exception of you. I’ll tolerate condolences from anyone else, even insincere ones, but I won’t take them from you. You cruel...” she stopped speaking and glared at me for a moment, but then her expression cleared. “You know I never wanted him. I told you as much. I was relieved when he died, shocked too, of course, but more than anything else, relieved. I won’t wear my bereaved widow’s mask for you, and I won’t accept your self-righteous sympathy. I’d sooner die.”

  I nodded, acknowledging the fairness in her words. Still, her eyes bore through mine in white-hot anger as I tried to find a response. Nothing I could think of to say seemed appropriate, so I waited uneasily for something to happen, some relief from the agony that was corroding my chest. The seconds ticked by painfully across the gulf spreading between us. Finally, she spoke out. “How long do you expect me to sit here feigning blindness?” she asked in a forced sort of calm. She raised her hand in a delicate gesture, pointing directly at my belly. “You greatly overestimate my penchant for speciousness if you think I can ignore that.” Her scorching gaze shifted down to my stomach and remained there.

  “I thought maybe you’d think I was getting fat,” I replied, forcing a smile in a lame attempt at humor. “No one else has noticed.” She shook her head.

  “No one else knows your body the way I do,” she replied. I nodded. “No. I’m making an assumption, aren’t I, Sylvie? Perhaps the man who planted that knows how to make you come,” she added sharply. I swallowed back any retort, though several came to mind.

  “I’m not certain why you’re so angry with me,” I said instead. “It’s nothing to do with you, Lara.”

  “Have you told Hattie?” she asked, rather than commenting.

  “No. Mamma doesn’t know. I’d like it to remain that way. Please, Lara.” She pressed her lips together as she watched me.

  “Don’t you think she’ll eventually want to meet her grandchild?”

  “This is not her grandchild,” was my answer. Lara didn’t respond immediately but diverted her eyes and took a big gulp of coffee. She looked around the room before focusing again on me, seemingly calmer.

  “Who did this to you?” She asked, her tone sharp. I shook my head.


  “No one did anything to me, Lara. I had a short-lived relationship with a resident at the hospital where I work, Ander’s Lindquist. This is the result,” I said.

  “Was he so careless? And don’t you know about condoms, Sylvie?” I nodded.

  “I’m not a child, Lara. He wore one,” I explained. “I don’t know how this happened.”

  “Why isn’t he helping you?” she asked gently. “This neighborhood isn’t appropriate for you, Sylvie, especially in your condition. It’s dangerous. And this apartment is… I don’t know what to say about this hovel. It’s just… It’s horrendous. Really, it is. What kind of man would compromise you in such a way and leave you to live like this?”

  “He’s not a bad man. He was upset when he realized it was my first time, and he wants to face his mistake,” I assured her.

  “You weren’t a virgin, Sylvie,” she snapped. “Or don’t I count?” I shook my head.

  “That’s not what I said,” I replied, surprised. Lara glared at me. “It was my first time with a man. And of course you count.” She swallowed hard and looked away from me, obviously unhappy. “I bled when I was with him, so he assumed I was…I really couldn’t find the words to explain about you, Lara, especially since I was absolutely mortified to have ruined his sheets. Now he keeps pressuring me to marry him, if you can believe that. And he keeps trying to give me money, no matter how many times I tell him I don’t want it, or anything else from him. I don’t need more burdens to deal with.”

  “Jesus you’re stubborn. Why not take his money?” she asked. I glared at her. “You didn’t get in this mess without his help.”

  “You don’t understand either, then. This is my decision to make. If I let him help me, he’ll try to tell me what I can and can’t do. I’m not keeping this child. I never wanted to be a mother, and I certainly won’t marry a man I don’t love because of financial concerns, or because he feels responsible for his mistakes. Even so, I can’t have her start out in life unwanted and illegitimate. She’s going to a nice young couple who will love and protect her. She’s going to be everything to them, and have the best education and connections. The world will rest in the palm of her hand. She’ll have what I didn’t.”