From the Chrysalis (52 page)

He took a deep draw on his cigarette, letting the smoke circle over their heads, then shook his head gently. “Christ, you were so full of hope when I met you. The way you talked … And you love all that English twaddle, those big fat tomes of books, the stuff nobody else reads, the stories that I don’t have time for and don’t pretend to understand. And you were going to write. That’s what you said. Before … I’m sorry. I was going to say before you met him, but he was always there, wasn’t he? Your
one
.”

“But I’m pregnant!” Liza almost choked on the words.

“My parents will want us to put the kid up for adoption,” Mel said flatly, flicking the ashes off his cigarette into her water glass. He wasn’t looking at her now. “Even if they think it’s mine. It’s just too soon. We’re too young.”

“Oh, Mel.” She reached for her belly and laid her hands flat on it. The swell was larger for sure, and unbelievably taut. She knew exactly when it had happened: the last night, at Uncle Norm’s house. In the grass. True, she had got her pills a little mixed up that week, but it had happened because she had willed it. She must have been crazy—crazy with grief and what she feared about Dace—that he wouldn’t, or couldn’t, change. That he’d be in and out of jail all their lives.

But she was exactly the same as he was. She couldn’t change either. Couldn’t change who she loved. Maybe nobody could change who they already were. She was just a girl who had wanted a great passion, babies, and a chance to write books. And she had blithely, foolishly, insanely hoped to somehow have it all at once.
 

Still, I’m a woman now,
she thought, liking the sound of that phrase. She could almost think clearly, now that she had passed the three month mark and was no longer sick. Even if it were just that false hormonal calm, the sacrifice of a girl-woman ensuring the future of the human race. It really didn’t matter. For although she had been anxious and would be anxious again, she knew she could
do this. She could keep going to school and get a job, maybe even live with her mother for a couple of months after the baby was born. Somebody had to look after the baby.
Summertime in the city.
It wasn’t a perfect solution, but it was the only one she had come up with so far, in between exams and letters of appeal. Because in her experience, mothers and grandmothers came through in the end, even if their only solution was poison.
 

Poison.
Well, she had briefly considered that. But it had never really been a possibility. She had known all along she wanted Dace’s baby if she couldn’t have him. It might be an unreasonable choice, a crazy choice, but it was the right thing for her.

Still. How wonderful she had wanted Mel, a boy so loving and so breathlessly uncomplicated. Sometimes she felt like she had come home. Especially now that he wanted her, even when he knew. But, clamoured a practical little voice, belatedly born of necessity,
how long will that last?

“Something tells me you don’t want to do that.”
 

“Not this, no. I mean,
no
, although if you asked me when I was so sick …”

“So we’ll keep the kid. We’ll both be old enough. What the hell’s wrong now?”

She hesitated. “It’s just … stepfathers. You know.”

“What do you think I am, Liza? A lion?” Mel looked so indignant she nearly laughed. “Do you think I’m going to eat Dace’s kid?”

“Some do.”

“Look, anyone can see you and Dace were
connected.
Did you think I was blind? The thing about him was anyone who knew him was attracted to him. Even men. That was both his weakness and his strength. I don’t know why. It was just him. And I don’t know why he can’t stay out of trouble. Do you?”

“No. Well, I have some idea, but it all amounts to the same thing. He didn’t really have any choice. Maybe he was programmed. Maybe it was something innate.”

“Aw, Jesus Christ. Everybody has choices.”

“Not always good ones.”

“Well, tell me again. If he showed up right now, would you go with him?”

But he did and I didn’t,
she thought. If it hadn’t been for the baby, she would never have been able to let go, to let him go alone. She wouldn’t have had the strength. Jesus. Did she get pregnant just so she would be trapped?

“Of course not!” she said out loud. “It’s not an option. Even if it were, I’ve got the baby to think about now. If he gets sent back to prison, my baby’s daddy will be in
jail
.”

“He will.”

“Well,” she said and sighed. “It’s not like he’s been trained for anything else. But I will not take my kid, even if it is his kid, into a prison visiting room. Some people might think they were doing the child a favour, letting him get to know his Dad, but I don’t. Dace wouldn’t either.”

“You haven’t told him?”

“No. What’s the point? He’d go nuts. Worse, he might have stayed.”

“Are you sure?” Mel asked slowly. Then his eyes widened. “Wait a minute. What do you mean he
might have stayed?
Did you talk to him before he left? Did you lie to the police?” He sat up, grabbing her by the shoulders and giving her a little shake.

“No, of course not,” she lied. “Let go of me!”

“They’ll get him. Extradite him if he’s gone down to the States.”

Liza shrugged. Maybe not, she thought, unless he commits another crime. And he won’t, now that he’s away. It’s only at home he wasn’t safe—where he should have been safe, where all his troubles began. “Besides, Dace and I, we’ve had our chances. Now it’s all about the baby once he’s born.”

“‘He’
.
So you think it’s a boy. Right. Makes sense. Dace would have a boy for sure.”

She lay on the bed, thinking. She
was
going to need help. She had always known that. Even if she got a job, she couldn’t work and look after the baby, too. And Mel was so dear … But she couldn’t. He didn’t deserve …
 

But there was somebody else who might not mind. Why hadn’t she thought of this before? All along she had wanted to help her Uncle Norm, to protect him …

“Liza?” Mel asked. He’d turned his head on the pillow and now eyed her suspiciously. “What’s happening?”
 

“Um, I’ve just thought of something. And you’re the reason,” she said, running her fingers down his chest, her eyes briefly alight. “If you’re willing to help me, and you’re a man …”

He flicked one eyebrow. “A mere man.”

“Oh, don’t look at me like that, you know what I mean. The thing is, I bet Uncle Norm
would help me.”
 

“Dace’s father? Are you nuts? What’s he going to do with a baby? Jesus, don’t you think the poor bastard might need a rest?”

“But it’s his
grandchild
, Mel. He was never able to help Dace, which is a terrible torture for any parent. You heard me talking to him yesterday. He’s heartsick about Dace.”

“His guilt is hardly your concern. I bet he regrets leaving him at that school, though.”

“I could probably finish school while I lived at his place. It’s only twenty miles outside of Maitland. If he loaned me a car …”

“And the baby? What are you going to do, lug him to class?”

“They have those carrier things now, although I’m sure my uncle would pay his housekeeper a little extra to watch the baby while I went to school.”
Dace said Uncle Norm would help me, told me to go to him for anything,
she almost added.

“But if you and I got married, Liza, you wouldn’t have to rely on anyone. How about next week? We’ll go to City Hall in Maitland and tell everybody later. Face the music. Maybe we can have a little party on Valentine’s Day.”

“I’d still be relying on you,” Liza said. She tried to hug him, but he was board stiff on his back, both hands locked behind his head. She sat up and really looked at him. Oh God. This wasn’t right.
 

“Sweet boy, I can’t get married and live like this,” she muttered, her eyes filling with tears she tried to hide by fumbling on the floor for her clothes. “I want to. I want to, so much. I want a normal life and I’m scared, but …” She pulled a paisley granny dress over her head, a garment she now wore most of the time. She’d been able to secure the zipper of her jeans with a safety pin just last week, but after several days of three square Melville meals, she couldn’t anymore.
 

“Like
this
? What’s wrong with this?”

“It’s too … I don’t know,” she said weakly. “It’s too not me.”

For the first time, Mel looked slightly angry. “You mean it’s too easy here, I suppose,” he replied, removing one hand from behind his head. He reached towards her, looking like he couldn’t believe she would be stupid enough to let go of the lifeline he was tossing her way. “Do you think you’ll be riding a motorcycle when you have a kid?”

She shook her head. “Oh, I don’t think it would be easy living here. Not for me. What do you think would happen if your people found out more about Dace?” she asked. She came back and took his hand, holding it like a prayer book between hers.
 

“Well, we’d never let on it was Dace’s kid.”

“Still …”
 

“Okay, so you’re related to a convict. Who the fuck cares? They’ll get over it. Everybody has a few bad apples on their family tree.”

“But he’s
not
a bad apple, he’s not! Oh, I don’t know. People don’t know anything about him. Not really. Except that he got away with murder, or so they think,” she said softly, turning away and poking through her purse on the desk.

Mel sat up and swung his legs over the edge of the bed, his eyes intent. “It doesn’t matter what they think. I could help you, Liza. And you, you
would
love me in the end.”

“Probably,” she agreed, securing her hair with an elastic band. “And I’d love to have your help, but it wouldn’t be fair. Besides, your family hates me. They didn’t like me in the first place and they liked me even less after the police came,” she reminded him, tossing the rest of her clothes into the small duffel bag at the foot of the bed. She headed for her coat and boots in the front hall. “Your grandmother—”

Mel followed her, pulling a T-shirt over his head in case his mother came back. “—will probably be dead in a couple of years,” he said ruthlessly. “Liza, if you walk out now …” His expression hardened. “You’re going to find him, aren’t you? Jesus Christ, you really are a reckless girl. Reckless, reckless, just like him.” He stopped, jamming the heels of his fists into his eyes and watching her unlock his front door. “Liza,” he warned, “you can’t go anywhere in this storm. There’s already a foot of snow on the ground. And I’m not driving you. Jesus fucking Christ. You’re not planning to hitchhike again, are you? You were half-dead last week when you showed up here like some stray cat.”

He was never going to stop asking her.
Do you still love him, Liza? Do you still love him more than you love me?
 

“No. Please believe me. I’m not going back to him. How the hell could I? I’m a liability to him. Jesus, I don’t even know where he is.”
Not to mention he doesn’t want me,
she thought, feeling a great tear rip inside her chest.

Mel folded his arms across his chest, staring down at the Oriental runner in the hall, dark and intricate, on the shiny oak floor. “But you’ll find out. You’ve romanticized your relationship with him because of the drama. That’s what you’ve done all along.”

“You’re right. It’s probably all because of those books I’ve read,” she said, awkwardly maneuvering herself and her bag out the front door and onto the snow-dusted porch.
 

She paused to take a deep breath, bracing herself for the terrible journey ahead. God, it was so beautiful in the open air: the bulky, cloudy sky, the fresh snow on the trees, even the dry, brown wisps of a climbing rose on the arbour at the side. Why had she stayed inside so long? Everything would bloom again, given time. Like Eliot’s lilacs out of a dead land.