Daughter's Keeper (45 page)

“Are you seeing anyone?” he said, suddenly.

Elaine laughed, a single short bark. “Of course not,” she said. “I have Luna.”

Arthur nodded and knew that the moment had arrived for him to ask about the baby. He could not bring himself to.

“Are you?” Elaine asked.

He shrugged. “No. Soon, I suppose. But not now. Not yet.”

She nodded.

Warren poked his head around from back behind the counter. He was holding the telephone in his hand. “Elaine? It's Ana.”

Elaine jumped. “I'll be right there.” She turned back to Arthur. “It's Luna's nanny. She probably can't figure out what to give the baby for lunch.”

Arthur nodded. “Anyway, my prescription?” he said.

She reached her hand out for the phone. “Warren, will you refill Arthur's Ambien prescription? And any others he's got left?”

Arthur stared at Elaine, wondering if he would always remember her as the woman who had finally, irrevocably, broken his heart.

She smiled at him blandly, the phone tucked under her chin. “I'm pretty sure there's a Zantac, too.”

Even in FCI Dublin, Mother's Day is a holiday. The volunteer organization dedicated to helping incarcerated mothers makes a big deal out of Mother's Day. And it's a good thing, too, because were they not there, if they did not arrange for the single red roses and the visiting children, it would be a long, lonely day, and lonely women might be more disposed to do things like hurt themselves or the other women next to whom they were crushed and crowded.

Elaine and Luna visited Olivia regularly, as often as every weekend. They were used to the drive; they had their favorite truck stop along the way. Luna was a fan of the fries in gravy.

Elaine always dressed the little girl in something nice for the visit—something Olivia would have chosen if she could have, like overalls and a bright-colored top, or a hat knitted in the shape of a strawberry. But today, Mother's Day, the baby was even more adorable than usual, in grape-purple pants and an Indian print shirt in complementary shades. She also wore purple high-top sneakers, a new addition to her wardrobe bought to celebrate a recently acquired skill—walking. Her shoulder-length hair was held off her face with a lavender ribbon. She was, at thirteen months, much the same as she'd been at three, cheerful and good-natured, and newly loquacious. She spoke both English and Spanish, thanks to the Honduran nanny who watched her while Elaine was at work.

They arrived early, standing in line with the other grandmothers, aunts, and foster mothers. There were no fathers in the line. Elaine had never once seen a father there escorting his children to visit their mother. She wasn't sure why. Maybe the men were in jail, like the women. Or maybe they weren't the ones caring for the kids. Or maybe they just couldn't bear to visit the prison.

Luna sat on her grandmother's hip, chattering in her just barely unintelligible language. She stuck her tongue out merrily at the children running under her grandmother's feet. She put one hand on either side of Elaine's cheeks, looked deep into her eyes, and said, “Down.”

“No honey, not yet. When we get inside and see Mama you can go down.”

They waited their turn to empty their pockets and enter the visiting room. Elaine, by now absolutely familiar with the drill, had left her purse in the car and carried only a small bag with two diapers for Luna, a packet of baby wipes, and a plastic bag filled with quarters. When they'd first begun visiting, she'd been surprised at the way everyone in the visiting room crowded around the vending machines, feeding in an endless supply of quarters and eating packets of Fritos and chocolate, drinking can after can of Diet Coke. By now, she too rushed over to the machines, glad of an excuse to give Olivia the illusion of privacy with her baby, if not the reality, surrounded as she was with other mother-and-child reunions. The machines were also a way for Elaine to give Olivia treats; candy, soda. Things she couldn't buy for herself inside.

This time, as she carried Luna through the metal detector, a young woman handed them a long-stem red rose.

“To give to Mom,” she said, her voice determinedly sprightly.

Elaine murmured her thanks and walked to the first set of double doors. She passed through with a small knot of other visitors. They waited silently in the hallway and were finally buzzed through the second set of doors. As she walked down the hallway to the visiting room, Elaine made out the group of women waiting behind the final set of glass doors. They were dressed in their regulation green and khaki shifts, but it was painfully obvious how much care they'd taken with their appearances. The hairdos were elaborate, and their homemade cosmetics were thickly applied. Some had ironed decorative fans and pleats into their clothing. Others wore earrings and necklaces fashioned from bits of aluminum foil. Every woman behind the door stared at the group of visitors, eyes darting to find the longed-for face. Elaine quickened her step and saw Olivia.

The two looked at each other through the glass. Olivia had her hair in the braid she always wore. She, unlike the other women, wore no makeup, and her pallor would have concerned Elaine had she not become accustomed to it. Olivia smiled at her mother and began waving at Luna. Elaine looked down at her charge. At first she was happy to see that Luna was waving back, but she soon realized that the child was looking not at Olivia, but at another woman entirely. Elaine turned Luna in her mother's direction, trying not to draw Olivia's attention to Luna's mistake. The momentary faltering of Olivia's smile gave away the fact that she had noticed.

The door buzzed, and the little crowd surged forward. Elaine and Olivia found each other's arms and hugged, hard, Luna squashed between them.

“Mama!” Luna announced, and Olivia beamed with relief.

“Come, let's grab a table,” she said, taking Luna from Elaine's arms. Only once Olivia turned to lead the way did Elaine notice that her right cheek was swollen and bruised.

“Oh my God, honey, what happened?” she said, touching the abrasion.

Olivia flinched. “Nothing. I just had a little difference of opinion with one of the guards. It's nothing.”

“Nothing? It doesn't look like nothing. Did you report it? Did you call Izaya? Maybe you should file a lawsuit or something?”

Olivia smiled ruefully, “Mom, it's really nothing. Honestly, if I reported everything, I'd end up in segregation for the next three years. Never mind, okay? I don't want to spend our precious time talking about this.”

Elaine pressed her lips together. She'd call Izaya herself when she got home.

“Have you heard from him?” she asked.

“He was here yesterday.”

“Again?”

Olivia blushed. “Yeah, well, he's a lawyer; he can come whenever he wants. There's no limit on legal visits.”

“And are things between you…” Elaine's voice trailed off.

Olivia shook her head. “There's nothing between us.”

“Oh really?”

“Nothing romantic, that is. I've got another thirty-one months in here, Mom.”

Elaine nodded. “Well, he came by to visit the baby again. He brought her that outfit.” Elaine pointed at Luna's purple ensemble. Olivia tugged the label from inside the collar of Luna's shirt and read it. She smiled.

“What?” Elaine said.

“I'm picturing him shopping for little purple clothes at Sweet Potatoes.”

“You should see him change a diaper.”

Izaya had fallen into the habit of coming by Elaine's house every once in a while to take Luna for an outing to the park, to the zoo, or just for a walk around the neighborhood. At first Elaine had always tagged along, but she quickly realized that Izaya wanted the baby all to himself, and once she'd reassured herself that he was adept at diaper changes and the other mundane tasks of parenthood, she'd backed off and let the two of them have their time together. The last time they came back from Willard Park, Izaya had been wearing an unusually large smile, as if there was something he was dying to tell Elaine.

“What happened?” Elaine said.

“Nothing,” he said. “Just, one of the moms complimented me.”

“What did she say?”

“She said she wished her husband was as good a dad as I am.” He bent down and nuzzled the top of Luna's head. “She said that. Didn't she, Moon-pie?”

“Hmm,” said Elaine, feeling a little catch in her throat.

He looked up, and she could see that he was trying to gauge her reaction. “What?”

“Well, what did you say?”

“What do you mean, what did I say?”

“Did you tell her that you aren't Luna's father?”

He shook his head and kissed the baby on the cheek. “Nope.”

“Why not?”

“It was none of her business.” He smiled softly.

Though this exchange had pleased her, Elaine had decided not to tell her daughter about it. Olivia was right, it would be a long time until she was released. Why raise hopes that could end up being false?

Olivia sat down in a chair at an empty corner of one of the long tables bolted to the middle of the room. She began talking to Luna in Spanish, kissing her on the face and tickling her belly. The girl looked at Elaine for a moment, and then, reassured by her grandmother's nod, smiled at Olivia. Once again, Elaine breathed a sigh of relief. Each time they visited, she was terrified that Luna would cry or otherwise reject her mother. It was their good fortune that the girl was easy with strangers. Luna was always perfectly happy to go to Olivia, and if she didn't seem to remember her mother from one visit to the next, that was something Elaine was confident only she really recognized.

Olivia balanced Luna on her lap and reached into the pocket of her dress.

“Happy Mother's Day, Mom,” she said, and handed Elaine a small envelope made of a piece of red construction paper folded in on itself. Elaine opened the envelope and found a card with a drawing of two women and a baby. One woman, with chin-length brown hair, was holding the fat little baby in a sling of brightly colored woven fabric. The other women, with long blond and red curls, had her arm around them both.

“It's us!” Elaine exclaimed. “Did you draw it yourself?”

Olivia nodded. “That's why it doesn't look anything like us. Except for the hair, I guess.”

Elaine smiled at the picture. “You drew me holding the baby.”

Olivia nodded again. Elaine opened the card and read the inscription.

Happy Mother's Day. Love, Olivia and Luna.

“I made the card from both of us,” Olivia said.

Elaine smiled at her. “Thank you, honey.”

“Because you're really like Luna's mother right now.”

Elaine shook her head. “
You
are her mother. I'm her grandmother.”

“No. I mean, I know I'm her mother. It's just hard, in here, to feel like anybody's mother, you know?”

Olivia looked around the room, and Elaine followed her gaze as it alighted on woman after woman, holding tight to children who seemed to wriggle uncomfortably in their arms.

Olivia turned back to Elaine. “You're
being
a mother to her. You're doing everything for her I could ever do, and more. I'm so grateful to you, Mom. I just want you to know that. I'm so…so …” Olivia's voice trailed off. Elaine looked at her daughter's mottled face and brimming eyes.

“I know you are, honey. And I'm grateful to you, too.”

“You've always been a good mother,” Olivia said, her voice low.

The two women stared at each other for a moment. They both knew exactly what kind of mother Elaine had been.

“Do you want a soda? Or something to eat?” Elaine asked.

“Thanks,” Olivia said.

Elaine excused herself and wandered over to the vending machines, exchanging pleasantries with the other grandmothers, some of whom she'd come to know. Suddenly, they were distracted by raised voices at the other end of the room. A tall black woman with a swirl of elaborately braided hair rising high off the crown of her head was trying to break up a fight between twin girls who looked about seven years old. They were rolling on the floor, punching and kicking each other, while the mother and an older woman tried to pull them apart. The girls ignored their mother and grandmother, raising their voices to shrieks. The grandmother began shouting, too.

“I'm going whup you both senseless! Stop it, now!” she screamed.

The mother tried unsuccessfully to pull the girls apart, backing away when one of them kicked her viciously in the stomach. Elaine looked over at Olivia, who had risen to her feet and walked quickly over to the writhing girls. Luna was balanced on her mother's hip, her eyes round and staring.

“Queenie?” Olivia said, “Need some help?”

“Listen, you break this up or I'm going to toss your butts right on out of here,” a guard said, marching over to the group. “Break this up right now.”

Olivia stretched her mouth into a smile, and said, “Hey, we're sorry. You know kids. We'll have them quiet in a minute.”

Queenie reached into the fray and grabbed one of the girls. Suddenly, she howled, jerked back her hand, and cradled it to her chest. “She bit me!” she said to no one in particular.

“That's it,” said the guard. “I'm throwing the little animals out.”

“No! Please no. Please,” Olivia cried. “Please, she hasn't seen them in almost four months!” She turned to the grandmother. “Mrs. Swain, can't you make them stop?”

The grandmother put her hands on her hips and shook her head. “I been telling Queenie. I can't make these hellions do nothing. Nothing. They don't never listen to me.”

The guard was joined by another. Each of them grabbed one of the girls and wrenched them off each other.

“No!” Olivia cried again, to no avail.

The girls, stunned into silence by the guards' touch, stared at their grandmother with wide eyes. They both began to cry as the guards started walking them toward the exit door. Queenie ran along behind them, begging, “Please, see, they're okay now. See? They'll be quiet. Please! Goddamn you! Stop!”

Olivia followed her friend, running as quickly as she could while simultaneously trying to comfort a now-crying Luna.

The guards motioned for the grandmother to follow them, and she did, shrugging her shoulders at her daughter. The group passed through the double doors and away. Queenie fell to her knees, her faced pressed against the glass. Her sobbing voice was just barely audible as she continued to plead with the guards who had disappeared from view. Olivia kneeled down next to the weeping woman and embraced her, Luna between them, her face pressed into Olivia's shirt, and her arms wrapped tightly around her neck. The three sat there for a moment, and then one of the guards took Queenie's arm and led her away.

Elaine met Olivia and Luna back at their table. The little girl's tears had dried, and her customary smile had even made its appearance.