“If we can’t find my insulin, I want you to do this anyway.” He turns to me, gaze direct and mouth set. “Okay?”
I don’t know what to make of this, and though I know I owe him nothing, I don’t want him to die by my hand. Not after this confession and the fact he’s kept his word about helping us. If nothing else, Brother David has made me a believer in redemption.
“We’ll find your insulin,” I say. It’s the best I can do after everything he’s told me, and everything he hasn’t. I step toward the door. “I’m going to go. See you in a few days.”
He nods. I leave him sitting in his chair, surrounded by dust motes and his own demons.
Mo’s people fill The Box. I don’t know most of them, but, when we arrive, they treat us as they might heroes returning from war. Jorge grabs me in a hug and spins me around with his booming laugh.
“Everyone’s okay,” I say as I’m hugged by the others of our group.
“How’s life as a secret agent?” Chris asks.
“Tiring,” I say.
Kate squeezes me, then holds me at arm’s length while her eyes travel up and down approvingly. “You look good. They’re feeding you.”
My pants, which were loose, fit again. “You, too,” I say. The gauntness is gone from her face, thanks to Mo and Farina’s food.
I move on to Paul, and, lastly, squish Leo to my chest. He hangs on, so I stick him on my hip. I’m sure I’ll spend the next few days carrying him the way we do Jin.
Indy goes down the line. When she reaches Paul, all self-assurance deserts her expression. She looks up at him, biting her bottom lip, and then produces a hesitant smile. “Hi,” she says, almost a question.
I wait for a Paul comment, but his giant hands frame her face and his eyes shine the way Leo’s do. Their kiss is sweet, made sweeter by the collective sigh the room releases. They break apart to cheers. Indy ducks her head and Paul blushes while Mo’s people pound the tables and the room goes berserk.
I laugh through my tears. I’ve missed this sense of community ever since Walt stole it from us in Sunset Park. I’d feared it was gone for good, but maybe, as long as there are good people in the world, it’s only a matter of building it again.
“You okay, mami?” Jorge asks.
I hug Leo closer and kiss Jorge’s cheek. “I’m more than okay. I’m home.”
The first two nights pass faster than is fair. It’s different, but every change is wonderful, from the people to the improvements. Water pipes run through the upstairs heaters and allow for bathing twice a week. Food stores are adequate. Solar panels, courtesy of Mo, are installed. They found beehives on the roof of The Whitney, of all places. Though not processed sugar, the coffee is sweet. The newcomers are friendly. I didn’t comprehend how alone we were until now, and I don’t mind the people in the halls or the buzz of conversation in the background. It’s a stark contrast to the stiffness of StuyTown’s residents.
Since Walt arrived, Central Park has beefed up security. Getting in will be more difficult, though Carmen is working on a plan and categorizing the residents as friend or foe. Farina sits on a couch on our third night after dinner, her feet curled up under her while we discuss their plan.
“She’ll figure it out,” she says, though she rubs her hands on her pants legs as she says it.
We murmur assurances that Carmen will. I understand the fear that the fate of someone you love is out of your hands. It always is, but we fool ourselves into thinking it’s in our control when they’re near. There’s been no word from Brooklyn, which isn’t surprising. They said around a month, maybe longer, and all signs say they’re busy taking care of things.
I hate that I’m worried about Eric. I hate that I miss him. I especially hate that I love him, even as I want to punch him. He could’ve left me a note, at the very least, telling me he was done. But I suppose his absence spoke volumes. Maybe it’s karma for the times I ended a relationship with my own silence.
“It’s a good thing you’re at StuyTown,” Kate says. “Imagine if Elena had tried to escape and you weren’t there?”
“I didn’t think of that,” Indy says, and I murmur agreement. We likely would’ve watched Elena run the zombie gauntlet from our perch across the street. If nothing else, we’ve kept her alive.
“I wish I could go with you,” Paul says. Indy leans against him, and she pats his arm that’s curved around her midsection. “Especially since I’m a selfless hero who sacrificed himself.”
“I wanted to keep the story that I ditched you in a mob.” Indy squeals when he pretends to strangle her. Leo, sleeping in a ball next to them, doesn’t stir.
“We’re leaving notes for you everywhere as we speak,” I say. “So the hero can find her in StuyTown if he’s alive.”
“I would if I could.”
Paul wouldn’t say it if he didn’t mean it. If he could see Indy’s face, he’d know he’s said exactly what she needs to hear. She’s radiant with pleasure, and she’s dreading tomorrow. Her raggedy fingernails don’t lie.
I’m saved from crying by a giant yawn. “We keeping you up?” Jorge asks. He checks his watch. “At 9:30?”
“I’m catching up on years of insomnia.”
“Time for bed for me, too,” Mo says. Most everyone has gone to their rooms, since light is precious and it’s warm under covers. He bids us goodnight, followed by Pilar and Farina. Julie and Chris leave to prepare for their watch shift. There are enough people now to watch the surrounding streets and StuyTown.
“It seems like Roger is going to help?” Casper asks.
“As long as Sylvie keeps stringing him along,” Indy says.
A pounding starts in my temple. I signed up to put myself in this predicament, so I have no right to complain, but it’s far more draining than I thought it would be. “I’m not stringing him along. I’m being friendly without giving him ideas.”
“Sylvie, why do you think no one flirts with you?”
“I know why, but that’s not my fault.”
I don’t want to have this conversation. I don’t want to think about Roger. His confession, his offer to forgo his insulin, are evidence he wants to do the right thing, even if he hasn’t been entirely forthcoming. Maybe he truly wants to be a better person, to make amends. As someone who did the same a year ago, it’s possible I can’t help but root for him a little, though I still half-want to stab him. Brother David would say he deserves clemency, and, in Roger’s case, I might agree.
“Just be careful,” Kate says. “Roger can be a great guy, but he lashes out when he’s hurt.”
“Terrific,” I say, rubbing my forehead. With waking hours like these, it’s no wonder I want to sleep all the time.
“How about some candy to ease the pain?” Kate retrieves a big bag of Twizzlers from the dining area and tosses them on the table. “I’ve been saving them for you.”
I thank her, rip open the bag, and take three. At first, they taste like delicious Twizzlers, but the flavor quickly sours, morphing into a horrible mixture of chemicals. I spit it into my hand.
“Nice,” Paul says.
“Don’t eat them. They taste like perfume mixed with landfill.”
I drop my chewed licorice in the garbage by the wall. Paul calls, “They taste fine to me.”
“Me, too,” Casper says.
The others nod as I take my seat. I try a new one from the bag and get down a bite before I drop the remainder on the table. “It’s you,” Indy says. “You thought the eggs tasted like snot the other day, and yesterday you wouldn’t eat the pasta because it tasted like, and I quote, the smell of horses.”
“It did. But I love Twizzlers. I’ve always loved them.” I stare at the red bag. Much like Eric, Twizzlers have turned on me.
“Sylvie.” Kate’s eyes are scarily calm. The kind of calm that begs you not to freak out. “When did you last get your period?”
I know where she’s going with this, and I wave a hand. “Months ago. I’ve been on the pill. There’s n
o chance…” I stare at the paneled wall, body buzzing with dread as I check my mental calendar. My last pack ended a while ago, and I gave my others to Indy. I should’ve gotten my period by now. Very much by now. But I was on them when it mattered. I can’t be pregnant. Unless I’m part of the unlucky point-whatever-percent whose pills crap out on them when it matters.
“You’re emotional and tired and things taste strange,” Kate says. “Maybe you should take a pregnancy test.”
“I thought The Twins looked bigger,” Paul says.
I ignore the startling reality of what Kate is suggesting to ask Indy, “Did your boyfriend seriously just call my breasts The Twins?”
Paul chuckles. Indy elbows him. “He’s an idiot. But he’s right, they do.”
Jorge raises his hands when I turn for his opinion. “I am not going there, mami. Take the test.”
“I’m sure it’s nothing.” Indy’s strained smile offers no reassurance. “I’ll come with you.”
Kate disappears without a word. No one asks where she’s going because we know where she’s going. “There’s no way,” I say. “I’m not nauseous. I feel fine.”
Except I don’t feel fine. I’m exhausted, perpetually teary-eyed, and I want to eat avocados like some sort of freak. It’s ridiculous to argue, anyway. Either I’m pregnant or I’m not, and arguing won’t change the answer. Kate enters and hands me a small box. I set it on the table and raise my eyes to find everyone staring. “What?”
“You have to take it to make it work,” Paul says.
If it were just me, I’d put it off another day. Or year. Periods are often late when you’re stressed, and I’ve been under a wee bit of stress lately. Also, there’s the small detail of the fact that I don’t want to face reality. I grab the box. “Fine.”
Indy follows me into the hall bathroom. I head into a stall, pee on the stick, and then set it on a sink where she waits. “Three minutes,” I say. She checks her watch.
I’ve done this a couple of times before, and every time it’s been a negative. As it will be now. In order to keep up my winning streak, I do what I did those times: sit on the floor with my head in my hands to wait until the timer—in this case, Indy—tells me time’s up.
It can’t be more than a minute before Indy says, “Um, Sylvie?”
“What?”
“It’s not three minutes, but…”
I get to my feet. Drag myself to the sink. Where there should be one line—one thin pink line—there are two. Positive. Except this positive is a big, fat negative as far as I’m concerned.
“Shit,” Indy says. And, of course, I start to cry.
91
Pregnancy has made me so tired that I couldn’t stay up all night stressing about pregnancy. I wake in my bed, Leo beside me, and watch him sleep. One of these creatures has taken root in me uninvited. A little parasite sucking all my energy and turning the rest of my life into parenthood.
If I imagine it as Leo, it’s not so bad. But it won’t be Leo. It’ll be a baby who will expect me to have a fucking clue about stuff, and I don’t. I don’t know what to do with babies—I can barely handle Jin, and he isn’t mine.
I close my eyes. Last night, after Indy broke the news, there was a lot of silence. Fortunately, no one suggested I leave StuyTown, and no one mentioned Eric in my presence. My plan is to pretend this didn’t happen and go about my life the same as before, at least until it becomes impossible.
“Morning, Syls.” I open my eyes to find Leo smiling before his face scrunches in concern. “Why are you crying?”
“Because sometimes life is stupid.” I hold my nose. “What the heck crawled into your mouth and died last night? A possum?”
He cracks up, surrounding me in a fog of dead possum. “What crawled into your mouth?”
“A baby, apparently,” I mumble as I leave the bed.
I brush my teeth, eyes on the mirror. I look the same—well-fed but the same. The moonstone at the base of my throat catches the light with an iridescent shimmer, and I stop brushing to stare at it.
This is Grace’s fault. Years of gloriously unfruitful sex, and I get pregnant the second I put on her stupid fertility necklace. Now I’m a single mother, which was my worst fear, worse than being a married mother. Grace used to say the universe gives us the things we fear in order to show us we’re stronger than we think.
“This is pushing that shit too far,” I say to the mirror and Grace and the universe. Evidently, pregnancy also makes you insane.
Indy pops her head into my room. “Hey, how are you feeling?”
“Fine. Why?”
She blinks. “Are we still pretending nothing is happening?”
“Yup.”
“Okay. We’re leaving after breakfast, right?”
I nod. She disappears, and I finish brushing. While I rinse, Paul fills the bathroom doorway, feet shuffling and arms behind his back. “Can’t a girl brush her teeth alone?” I ask.
He holds out a bottle that’s been stripped of its label. “Vitamins. You should take them.”
“I do take vitamins.”
“You should take these.” He shakes the bottle like a maraca. “They’re the better kind.”
I don’t need to be a genius to infer they’re prenatal vitamins, and that he’s removed any sign of that detail, either so StuyTown doesn’t see or I don’t.
“It’s important,” he says. “Hannah… Our first baby had spina bifida, and that could’ve been why it…” He shakes them again. “These have extra folic acid.”
I blink back tears at his worry, his kindness, and take it from him. “Thanks.”
He stays put. I open the bottle and pop one in my mouth, cupping water from the sink to swallow it. “I’ll take one every day. Just one?” I turn the bottle over, but the directions are missing.
“Just one.” Paul gives me a half-smile. “This is a surprise, huh?”
I lean against the sink. Obviously, Paul is not going to let me pretend. “Ever since I was a little girl, I wanted to be a single mother in the zombie apocalypse, so I’d say it’s more of a dream come true.”
Paul snort-laughs, but his brow lowers. “You’re not a single mother.”
“Am I single?”
“I guess, for now. But Eric would never—”
“Yes, I know, Eric would step up to the plate because blah blah blah Golden Boy. But if someone doesn’t want to be with you when there’s not a baby, they shouldn’t be with you when there is one.”
“Eric loves you. I’m sure he feels bad about leaving and—”
“He made me one promise, Paul. Only one. He promised he would never leave me on purpose.” I shrug like I’m over it, although a few double-crossing tears contradict my shoulders’ assertion. “And he broke it. Which, you know, shit happens. But he left without a single word, like he couldn’t care less. I don’t think I can trust him again.”
Paul presses his lips together as though he wants to argue. And maybe he’d be right, but I’m barely holding it together as it is. I’m not going to daydream and wish things were different in that department. I’m too busy pretending this pregnancy isn’t real to heap another load of mental bullshit on the pile.
“Don’t you dare tell him if he comes here while we’re gone,” I say. “I’ll do it the way I want to. Do you understand?”
Paul opens his mouth, then closes it and nods.
“Thanks for the vitamins,” I say. “I really do appreciate it.”
Paul yanks me to his chest, his strong arms giving me some semblance of how it would feel if I wasn’t facing this alone, and I hold on until he lets me go.
“You could stay,” Jorge says, his voice close to pleading. “We’ll say you were eaten by zombies.”
“But how would we get Jin?” I ask. “He’s not getting any smarter. We’re running out of time.”
“Stop picking on my kid. Give him a kiss for me.”
“I’ll give him twelve.”
Jorge takes me by my shoulder
s and looks into my eyes. “You’ve got this. All of it. I have no doubt.”
“Now you’re trying to make me cry.”
“Doesn’t make it less true.”
Kate squeezes me tight, then tips her head at Jorge with a wink. “What he said. And be careful.”
I nod. No one can know about this, especially Roger, because there’s no good explanation. It’s unfair that Eric gets to do whatever the hell he’s doing while I’m stuck dealing with not only a baby but also a mutinous body and the task of hiding it.
Indy and Paul hold hands while we walk to the closest exit without zombies. They kiss, and I’m pretty sure I hear the word love passed back and forth, though I make believe I’m absorbed in the view of the river.
It takes only minutes to get to Roger, and we enter his townhouse to find him sitting in front of a small masonry heater made of brick. It’s tall rather than wide, and it vents out the fireplace. “Pretty cool, huh?” he asks.
“It looks great,” Indy says.
I murmur something and move away. Let him think I’m angry about his confession. All my energy is centered on a minuscule mass in my abdomen that has thrown every part of my life off course. I’m fighting panic and desperation and the loss of me, and I give zero fucks how Roger feels.
“Can we go?” I ask.
The ride to StuyTown is uneventful but for a detour around a mob. I pass the bag check with flying colors, hand in my weapons, and head for the apartment to take a nap.
When I wake, I go to lunch. Everyone craves knowledge of our trip, but no one will ask here. I joke and laugh and pretend everything isn’t irreparably changed. After I’m finished eating, I sit Jin on the table and hold his chubby arms. “I have twelve kisses for you, and I would appreciate minimal slobber.”
He tilts his head, then puckers his lips. “He learned how to kiss!” I say.
May nods. “Emily and Chen taught him. And he’s calling me Ma. I think because he hears Chen calling me Mom, and Emily calling me May.”
The City Series (Book 3): Instauration Page 62
