by Theresa Shea
“Hey sweet-pea, go ahead and call a friend if you want,” Barry added. “I’ll be around all afternoon.”
From the doorway, Nicole stared at her mother, then slowly turned away.
The neighbourhood felt eerily quiet for a Saturday afternoon. No children played outside. The blinds in the front windows of most of the houses were closed. So, too, were all the garage doors. It was the in-between season—too early yet for yard work and gardening and too late for any winter play. In the next few weeks the city’s street cleaners would come and remove all the gravel and sand that hugged the curbs alongside every street. Until then, the air would remain gritty with winter silt.
She put her blinker on and turned north on the main road flanked by an endless variety of stores and merged into the slow-moving traffic. She stopped at a plant store and bought a large rubber tree in a dark blue ceramic pot. She hadn’t intended to spend so much on Elizabeth’s housewarming present.
As she loaded it into the back of the van, she practised some excuses to explain the girls’ absence. I forgot they had a birthday party. No, that wouldn’t work. Elizabeth knew how organized she was. I was hoping we could have a chance to talk alone. But she’d missed her chance to say that when Elizabeth had called. If only she hadn’t accepted the invitation so quickly.
Too soon she found herself crossing the Low Level Bridge. In the river below, large chunks of ice broke steadily from the ice dams along the shore and merged into the brown waters moving sluggishly on the invisible current. She kept left and rounded the bend to her friend’s new home.
The high-rise stood at the base of the hill, a tall magnet for winter grime. An intricate wooden boardwalk of stairs and sidewalks traversed the hill in a series of switchbacks that led up to the downtown core. She smiled as she recalled Sophia once asking why they called it downtown when you had to go up to get there.
She parked in a visitors parking stall and stepped out of the van. Grit and dust spiralled in the wind.
The plant was heavy. She balanced it on her thigh and closed the side door. Then she hoisted it higher in her arms and walked into the building.
Elizabeth buzzed her in. Marie dragged the plant into the turquoise and pink lobby and toward the two black elevators. Now that she was here, she almost wished she’d brought the girls along. So far the building was nothing to brag about.
The doors opened on the twelfth floor and Marie hoisted the plant one last time. A gold-plated sign on the wall facing the elevators listed the apartment numbers. She turned left for 1208.
At the end of the hallway a door opened and Elizabeth stepped out, illuminated by the light spilling into the hall from her apartment.
The distance between the two women shrank with each step Marie took. She shifted the plant in front of her to block her face. Her arms ached. Her stomach felt suddenly light.
“Where are the girls?” Elizabeth asked.
Marie avoided eye contact and groaned as she put the plant down inside. “Whew, that was heavy!” She dusted her hands on her pants. “They didn’t feel like coming. They stayed up late last night to finish a movie, so they were exhausted after swimming. But they said to say hi and asked if they could come next time.” She was explaining too much but couldn’t stop. “Plus, Sophia had sort of planned to have a friend over. She hadn’t told me though; she’d cleared it with Barry.”
Elizabeth nodded and took Marie’s coat.
“They wanted me to get you a really big plant. Easy for them to say! I was the one who had to carry it.”
Elizabeth looked dubious, as if she didn’t quite believe her. Marie wondered why she just hadn’t told her the truth: I wanted to talk about the baby. I’m afraid that Nicole will love you more. No, she couldn’t say that last bit.
“Where do you want it?”
Together they lifted the plant and placed it in a patch of sunlight by the sliding glass door. The mid-afternoon sun shone brightly through the window.
“That looks lovely,” Elizabeth said. “Thank you. And thank the girls too. Who is Sophia’s lucky friend?”
Marie opened her mouth but nothing came out.
“You said she was having a friend over.”
“Oh, yes. Her friend of the week is Stephanie.”
“Does she live in your neighbourhood?”
“Yes, not far at all.”
“That’s good,” Elizabeth smiled. “So Barry didn’t have to go and get her?”
“No, she walked.” Marie turned to hide the flush in her cheeks. “This place looks great. Can I have a tour?”
“Well, there’s not much to see. This is the living room.” Elizabeth lifted her right arm horizontally and swept it slowly around the room. Then she walked briskly toward the hall. “And in here is the bedroom.”
A double bed stood in the middle of the room, covered with a patchwork quilt and at least a dozen throw pillows of assorted colours. Against the wall was a dresser made from polished steel; its drawers were old wooden Coke crates. Some cast iron hooks on the walls held Elizabeth’s scarves and accessories. She had removed the closet doors and hung a bead curtain instead. Elizabeth had a great decorating sense. Nicole would have loved this.
“The bathroom is over here,” Elizabeth went on, retracing her steps. “And this is the kitchen and dining room.”
The table was set for four. China plates with delicate pink flowers and gold rims were set beside pink linen napkins upon which sat small silver forks and spoons. A crystal vase of colourful gerbera daisies served as the centrepiece, the sharp pinks, yellows, oranges, and reds like a sudden burst of summer. On a silver tray beside the vase was an assortment of goodies: banana bread cut into triangles, plum-sized scones with jam and cream, delicate rectangles of mille feuille, and bite-sized lemon squares. Chilling in a silver bucket at the table’s edge were four cans of Italian soda.
“Oh, Elizabeth,” she said. “I’m so sorry. If I had known you were going to go to this much trouble I’d have insisted the girls come with me.”
Elizabeth shrugged. “It doesn’t matter. I suppose it’ll give us more of a chance to visit. I hope you’re hungry!” She went into the kitchen and returned with a carafe of coffee. “I made decaf,” she said and gestured toward Marie’s belly. “I figured you’d be off caffeine.”
Marie nodded. She moved toward the sliding glass doors and stepped onto the balcony while Elizabeth poured the coffee. Sure enough, the view was lovely. It was breezy at this height, and cool. She walked to the railing and rested her elbows on it. The ground was a long way down. She started when Elizabeth appeared suddenly beside her with two coffee mugs in her hands.
“Beautiful, isn’t it?”
Marie nodded and took the coffee.
“The ice is finally coming off the river,” she added. “Believe it or not, I think spring is on the way.”
“I hope so. It was a long winter.”
They stared quietly out at the valley. It was too early yet for any signs of green, but the belt of naked black trees along the river offered its own kind of beauty.
Marie nodded to the distance. “Those trees wouldn’t have given much of a hiding place, would they?” She shook her head. “I still can’t believe some of the stuff we heard when we were up that tree. I wonder whatever happened to that principal. Remember? The one who ended up with that girl’s dad?”
“I have no idea. I’ve always wondered about that girl who flunked first grade. Jane something-or-other. Imagine flunking first grade. What would that do for your self-esteem?”
They went back inside, and this time Marie noticed the furniture. The leather couch and matching chair. The low-slung coffee table made from some kind of acid-washed metal. Everything was new.
“Do you like it?”
Elizabeth might as well have punched Marie in the stomach. She hadn’t consulted her on any of this. Normally they would have gone shopping together. What had happened to their friendship? She wrapped her arms around her middle and rocked imperceptibl
y.
“Yes, it’s fine,” she lied. “I can see you’ve spent some time decorating.”
“Oh, just a bit here and there,” Elizabeth said dismissively.
Marie noticed pictures hanging on the kitchen wall. She walked closer and peered at the black and white images. “I haven’t seen this in a while.” In one photo she was twenty years younger and twenty pounds lighter.
“Whose roof are we standing on?” Marie asked.
“That was Gillian’s.”
“God, I haven’t thought about her in years.” Only part of that was true. She didn’t think of Gillian, but she often remembered the party she’d had at Pigeon Lake. Marie had passed out on the couch. When she woke up the next morning with a wicked hangover, she’d groped her way to the bathroom and tried to overlook the pools of vomit in the bathtub. How could people be so disgusting?
“Whatever happened to Gillian, anyway?”
“I don’t know. I bumped into her at Southgate about ten years ago. She was with two of her kids. I think she had four already at that time.”
Gillian had been religious, yet she’d thrown some wild parties.
“I guess she could have had four more by now,” Elizabeth said, reading her thoughts. She sat down. “Help yourself.”
Marie put one of everything onto a small china dish.
“How are you feeling, anyway?” Elizabeth asked.
Terrible. Terrible and terrified. “Better now. Now that the first tri-mester is done, the morning sickness is over, and I’m not so exhausted as I was.”
“That’s good.”
“My doctor’s scheduled me for a routine amnio next week. Apparently being pregnant at thirty-nine means I’m a bit of a ‘risk.’”
“Sometimes I think doctors just like sticking needles into people. I know I was a pincushion for more than a few years.”
Marie remembered the bruises that covered Elizabeth’s stomach. The hair that had sprouted on her chin. How at one point she’d been so bloated she looked like she’d been on an eating binge with Marie.
They sampled their pastries in silence. Tell her you’re afraid. The chair creaked as Marie shifted. She remembered its newness.
“Have you talked to Ron lately?”
“No, I told him not to call for a while, but I was feeling so lonely one night that I tried him anyway. And can you believe it, the bugger wasn’t home! He hadn’t reset the machine either, even though I’d left him instructions. I must have let it ring a hundred times before I finally gave up.”
Marie pictured Elizabeth staring out over the darkened valley, the phone at her ear and nobody answering on the other end.
“Do you miss him?”
Elizabeth shrugged. “It’s hard to say. Do I miss him or do I just need to get used to being alone?”
“Well, you guys have been through a lot. Maybe some time apart will help you know whether or not you should be together.”
“That’s what I’m hoping. Lately I’ve been feeling fond of him. I’m remembering our early days when we were just getting to know each other.”
“Apparently Frances bumped into him at the farmers’ market,” Marie said. “She was really mad that I hadn’t told her you guys had split up. She felt like an idiot when she asked him what was new.”
They laughed, imagining the look on Frances’s face.
“Then she interrogated me. She wanted to know if you were seeing someone else. She said you’d better watch out because probably all the single teachers at his school are lining up for him. ‘Trolling,’ I think was her exact word.”
“Well, she’s probably right. But I think I confused the vultures when I sent Ron some flowers for Valentine’s Day. I sent them to the school.”
“That’s sweet.” They were courting again, Marie thought, and she pushed away the jealousy that she was beginning to revisit.
“It gets better; the next day he sent me some flowers at work.”
Marie laughed, imagining a delivery person delivering flowers to a flower shop. She watched Elizabeth lick her finger and dab at the crumbs on her plate. She was wearing a short-sleeved shirt and Marie admired the sculpted cut of her upper arm.
“I sense there’s more to this story.”
“Maybe . . . We’ll see. We haven’t actually seen each other yet. We’ve written a couple of letters.”
“Letters?”
“Yeah, you know, paper and pen . . .”
“Of course I know,” Marie said. “How did that start?”
Elizabeth shrugged. “I was missing him one night, and I decided to write down some of the sweeter memories I had of us together. I didn’t write much, but it felt nice to remember them. And then I figured, What the hell, why not put a stamp on it and send it to him? Maybe he’d enjoy remembering those times too.”
“And?”
“And a week later I got a letter from him.”
“I love that!”
“Yeah, me too. You know, when I first left I wondered if I was just punishing him for not getting me pregnant. It was almost like I had no one to blame, so I decided to blame him.”
“Well, it’s not like you’d been wanting to leave for a long time or anything,” Marie said.
“Actually, I’d been thinking about it for a couple of years.”
Marie put her coffee down abruptly.
“Oh, for God’s sake. Don’t take it so personally, Marie. This isn’t about you, okay? It’s not like you call me every day. You’re busy. You’ve got your family and now you’re working part-time.” Elizabeth shrugged. “You probably would have said the same thing as my mom: Don’t leave him, he’s the best thing to ever happen to you.”
Marie picked up a lemon square. A dusting of icing sugar covered the filling that sat on a thin pastry crust. She bit into it. It was sweet and tart at the same time and melted on her tongue like a snowflake.
“I wouldn’t have seen it as complaining,” Marie said. “It’s natural that people go through trying times in their relationships. It doesn’t mean they’ve made a mistake necessarily. Barry and I have certainly had our ups and downs.”
“I know,” Elizabeth interrupted. “It’s just . . .”
“What?”
“Oh, I don’t know.” Elizabeth shrugged.
“No, tell me. What?”
“You don’t tell me everything that goes on in your life, do you?” Elizabeth said firmly.
“The big stuff I do,” Marie said. Tell her now.
“Well I’ll try harder to keep you informed,” Elizabeth promised. “Really, I will.”
Marie opened her mouth. “I was downtown the other day, and I almost called you for lunch. I was at the library and . . .”
“Oh, that would have been nice,” Elizabeth said, “but I’ve started going to the gym again at lunch. I do yoga three times a week and I row on the other days.” She held up her taut arms and showed her muscles. “I realized that I’d stopped taking care of myself, so I’m trying to eat better and exercise more. Plus,” she added, “it helps pass the time. Speaking of which”—she gestured toward Marie’s belly—“the time’s getting closer, huh? Nicole and Sophia will be great big sisters. I remember Nicole once telling me that she’d love for you to have another baby.”
“Really?” Marie said. “When was that?”
“Oh, a few years ago. She’d asked me why I didn’t have any kids of my own. I told her that I really wanted one but was having some problems getting pregnant.” Elizabeth laughed. “Do you know what she said?”
Marie shook her head.
“She said, ‘Maybe my mom could have one for you.’ Wasn’t that sweet?”
Marie smiled. “Nicole’s always been fond of you.”
“Speaking of Nicole, what would you say if I asked her to work part-time at the shop this summer?”
Marie imagined Nicole’s delight.
“I could use her for a few hours every Saturday. And I’d teach her how to cut flowers and make arrangements.”
“She’d love that.”
“And I’m sure she’d love some pocket money too. It’s still a few months away. Do you want to ask her, or should I phone?”
“Why don’t you call? I won’t mention it. It’d mean more to her if you called.”
Marie looked at her watch. “I’d better get going,” she said.
Elizabeth filled a small box with leftover goodies. “Take these home, and tell the girls I’ll have them over soon.”
Marie dropped her eyes and thanked her.
“When is your amnio appointment again?”
“Next week.”
“I’ll put it on my calendar to be sure to send you good vibes.”
“Thanks.” She looked down at the box in her hand so Elizabeth wouldn’t see the tears that had filled her eyes.
“And thanks for the plant.”
“You’re welcome.”
Marie put on her jacket and hugged her friend goodbye. She felt Elizabeth’s eyes on her all the way down the hallway. She waved once more when the elevator arrived, then she stepped inside, eager for the doors to close.
TWENTY-FOUR
Elizabeth watched Marie walk down the dimly lit hallway. If she hadn’t been watching, she felt sure Marie would have burst into a run. She waved again, and then Marie disappeared into the elevator.
The deadbolt slid into place. The kids didn’t feel like coming. Marie had never been a very good liar.
Outside on the balcony, she watched Marie exit the building and walk toward her van, cradling the box of pastries in her hand. The van backed out, merged into the southbound traffic, and disappeared over the bridge.
Every time Elizabeth had tried to talk about the baby, Marie had changed the subject. She wondered why.
The front of her building was now in shade, but the sun continued to shine on the floodplains alongside the river. At the park to the south a dozen players warmed up at the baseball diamond. On the still-brown grass the white ball could have been the last snowball of the year. She found herself watching a lean, dark-haired figure in right field who had a similar stride to Ron’s.
