Look at You Now (20 page)

The laundry room was empty this early in the morning. Tilly made me do it myself this time. She sat leaning back in the folding chair watching to make sure I did it right, tipping far on the back legs.

“Don't do that with the chair, you're going to fall,” I said.

“Don't put so much soap. You don't need all that.” She put the chair legs back on the floor. “You think she's all right?”

“Yeah, she's just having her kids. When she's done she'll be so happy.”

“I don't know, that's the part she was the most scared about—after. Hey, did I tell you Rick said on the phone that he gave the money for our place? And he's going to garage sales for baby stuff?”

“No, that's great. What else did he say?”

“He ran into this girlfriend of mine at the store. She said everyone's excited to meet my baby.”

“Sounds good, Till. I talked to Ms. Graham. She said she can help you figure out a way you can go to school while you take care of the baby. There's some program or something. You got to go talk to her, okay?”

“Really?”

“Yeah.”

She seemed excited by the idea, and I suddenly felt sure that Tilly would figure things out for herself, that things would maybe be okay for her too. I switched and folded and piled the laundry. After, we headed to the cafeteria for breakfast. The smell was eternally disgusting, no matter what they were serving. It was scrambled eggs with some sort of sausage that day. Tilly ate both hers and mine. I tried to stomach some milk and bread.

• • • •

“Hand me the damn hammer, will ya?” Jill was on the ladder with her arms stretched up to the ceiling. We were trying to get the Christmas decorations down in the lounge. I handed her a hammer. She pulled, and the garland finally came down. When we were done, Jill got off the ladder and sat down at the table in Nellie's usual spot. Tilly and I looked at each other. Then Amy looked at Jill.

“Too soon, Jill, sit over here,” Amy said.

“Oh, shit, sorry I forgot about the everybody-has-a-seat thing.

Where's my seat gonna be?”

Tilly pointed to Nellie's chair. “Probably there, I guess, but not till we hear, okay?”

Jill sat down in a different spot at the table and called to me, “Liz, get over here. Lemme teach
you
a little something, huh? You never know, even in that swanky life of yours, poker could come in handy.”

She shuffled the deck like a magician. The only other person I'd seen handle cards like that was my grandfather Papa, who could count a deck of cards at his ear holding them in one hand. He'd put his thumb on the deck, let them rip, and in three seconds he could tell us how many cards were there. Jill looked at me with a serious expression. “I've changed my mind, let's start with blackjack. I'm gonna teach you about the deck, and odds, and busting, double downing, stiffing, standing, sitting, holding, all that good stuff, and then we'll move on.”

“Fuckin' A, Jill, you sound like a Vegas dealer,” Amy said. Jill smiled. She spent the next two hours trying to teach me cards. I couldn't remember anything, couldn't add fast enough, couldn't sit still. But the thing that really put Jill over the top was that I couldn't seem to hold a poker face. She claimed I gave away every hand with my face. I tried and tried again, but I couldn't hide it, and she just kept knowing what I had. She was so frustrated. She banned me from playing poker or blackjack at our table ever again. Amy and Tilly laughed the entire time.

Amy smiled big at the end and said, “We finally found something Liz really
sucks
at.”

Wren read out loud from the TV guide that
Carrie
was on TV. We got our pillows, I brought out snacks, and we turned the lights off and sat transfixed by the movie. Just as the kids were about to dump the bucket of blood on Sissy Spacek's head, Alice came in. She turned on the lights and said, “I have news.”

Tilly jumped up and turned off the TV. “What? What is it? Did she have them? Is she okay?”

“She had them and she's okay. The babies are healthy, and Nellie has a bit of a recovery now, but everyone is fine.” The girls all
clapped and started chatting and asking questions. Alice whistled to quiet us.

“Tilly, I need you to pack up all Nellie's things from your room. Liz, you can help her. They will be brought over to the hospital tomorrow.”

“Why
all
her things? Isn't she coming back?” Tilly asked.

“No, sweetheart, her time is up. She's going to go home with her grandma when she's well. She's starting her life with her babies.”

“What did she have?”

“She had a boy and a girl.”

“Can we see her?”

“Tilly, I want to talk to you.” Alice pulled her out in the hall, where the rest of us couldn't hear them. I could see Tilly looking down at the floor, and then she came back in.

“What did she say, Till?” I asked.

“She just lectured me about why we're here, that we're here to have these babies so we can go home. I just wanted to say bye to Nellie. It's not like I don't get that when we have the babies, we leave. Duh.” Tilly seemed upset, more upset than I'd ever seen her.

Tilly and I headed to her and Nellie's room. I had never been inside before. The room looked like a waste pit. There was stuff everywhere, clothes everywhere, beds unmade, curtains closed, the room filled with crap all over.

“Geez, Tilly, this is a mess,” I said.

“I know, we're pretty bad, but we're both bad so it doesn't matter.”

“How do we tell whose stuff is whose? You don't even use the dressers?”

Tilly got Nellie's suitcase out and started throwing things in it. There was so much trash. We weeded through and finally got Nellie's stuff together in the suitcase. I checked under the bed and in the bathroom and all the drawers to make sure we didn't forget anything. When I picked up her pillow, I saw the book
Little House in the Big Woods
underneath. I flipped to the first page, and then
turned to the next, and the next and the next. Every other word, for twenty pages, was circled in pencil.

“What is it?” Tilly said.

“Nothing, just her book.”

“We gotta give it back so they can take it to the library.”

“Yeah, okay, I'll bring it back to Maryann. You going to be okay sleeping in here?”

“Yeah, now I know she's okay, I'll be fine.” I wondered if Tilly was nervous, realizing she was next.

• • • •

Jill was lying in bed, reading, when I got back to our room.

“You pack all her stuff up?”

“Yeah.”

“Good for her, right? It's over.”

“Yeah,” I said. Or was it just beginning? Nellie's leaving felt so startling. I
knew
we were
all
going to have our babies and leave. Of course I knew. It was all I wanted since the day I arrived—to leave. But watching Nellie go hit me deeply. Like we were soldiers. People who'd grown to know and depend on each other, who'd built a shelter for existence together. And now part of the shelter would be gone. It felt like the war of survival was ending, person by person, until eventually all of us would be gone.

• • • •

The next morning I opened my eyes and saw on the Snoopy clock that it was 5:50
A
.
M
. I tiptoed to the dresser and got dressed. As I stumbled my way through the hall, I tripped and dropped my boots loudly on the floor. As I was crouching down to pick them up, the door next to me opened. Tilly was standing in her bra, her stomach hanging out over her sweatpants. I dropped the boots again. She scratched her head.

“What are you doing? I thought maybe Nellie was back.”

“Oh no, I'm . . . Well, shit, I'm going over there to see her.” Tilly
disappeared and came back in a second with her shirt on and a coat in her hand. “I'm coming,” she said.

We made our way down the dark hall to the front gate, where the guard stopped us. “Whoa, whoa, whoa, where you two think you're going?”

“Shit,” Tilly said. It was the all-night guard. Chief wasn't in for the day yet.

“Um, here, I have a pass.” I pulled it out and showed it to her.

“Ah, yeah, I know
you
have a pass, but she don't have a pass.”

Tilly looked at me like,
Do something
.

So I turned to the guard and said, “She always comes with me on my morning walk. I haven't been feeling well. Chief lets her come.”

“You gotta work on your lying, girl. I know these kids can't leave, that's why I have a job. The rules are the rules. You can go but she can't.”

Tilly turned to me. “You go, tell her I said hi and I miss her and I hope everything's okay, and I . . . I'm gonna wait right here till you get back.”

I headed out the door into the brisk morning air. I buttoned up my coat and watched the auburn sun rising behind the trees. There were a few people standing around the entrance to the hospital, which was to the left and down about half a block from the facility entrance. Inside the hospital lobby, I found a sign with the names of departments on it. I followed the green arrows up an elevator, through a hall, and to a big desk that read Maternity. There was a chalkboard behind the desk, with patients' names written in pink and blue chalk. Nellie's name was written in both pink and blue with an asterisk next to it. As I walked down the too-bright hallway, I peeked into a few rooms. Balloons and baskets and flowers were scattered everywhere. People were whispering and laughing softly. Everyone on the floor seemed happy. I got to Nellie's door at the end of the hall and pushed it open. It was pitch-dark, the curtains were drawn, and the lights were off. Nellie
had an IV in her arm and medical tape all over the back of her hands, and on her chest going up her neck. Her big stomach was gone. She was sound asleep. There were two empty cribs, side by side near the bed.

I opened the curtains a little. Dorothy always said sunlight makes people feel better. I could see the shiny roof of the facility nestled amid the trees. Then I walked back to the bed and stood over Nellie, asleep. Her hair was matted to her head, and her boils looked painful and swollen, but she'd done it. She'd given birth to a little boy and a little girl. I saw a notepad and pen on the table. I tried to write as simply and neatly as possible.

Nellie, you will be a great mom!

     Love, Liz

I pulled the
Little House in the Big Woods
book out of my coat, stuck the note in it, and set it on the table next to her bed. The smell of the hospital was making me queasy, or maybe it was just life. I stepped out of the room and leaned against the cold wall in the hallway. Sometimes I had to remind myself to breathe, and this was one of those times. I took a deep breath as I watched the world around me. There was a woman gingerly walking toward me, holding a new baby. People who looked like relatives and friends were bustling in and out of rooms. The hall was lively, with an impossible-to-miss joy. Across the way, I spotted a family in a sitting room. The mom sat in a hospital gown in a chair, as the dad paced the floor with the new baby. There were two little kids playing on the floor. One of the boys toddled up to his mom and kissed her on the cheek. The other one stood up and handed her a picture from a coloring book. The dad put the baby in the mom's arms, and the two boys leaned in to pet it, like a baby kitten. Something inside me dropped. I turned and took a last look at Nellie and the darkness, and then quietly closed the door to her room. I made my way back through the hall, down the elevator,
and out of the hospital. The amber sky had turned into bright morning light. I found a bench near the side of the road. I sat for a long time before I looked down at the big round bump under my coat. I slowly unbuttoned the coat and looked more closely at my stomach. There was a person in there, attached to me, with fingers and toes and a heart. For the first time, I truly felt it. The truth was suddenly bigger than me, and I knew it could never be changed. No matter how far away I was, no matter what I said or how hard I tried to forget, the truth is unchangeable. Maybe that's why it's so powerful.

chapter
12

N
ellie had been gone three weeks, four days, and a few hours. Jill had taken over her spot in the lounge. Tilly had to move to the couch—she was so big, she couldn't sit comfortably in the chair anymore. Amy took Tilly's spot. I sat in my chair and watched Jill methodically flipping cards for solitaire. I stared at the cards as they dropped flawlessly one on top of the other. I was lost in thought, thinking about the day
after
my mom found out I was pregnant.

Dorothy had left my dad's apartment in the city by herself that afternoon. I had driven down to the city in my own car and drove home separately, the long way. We didn't see each other again until the next morning. I woke up and I heard the sound of the twins chatting in the room next door before school. I looked up at the origami swan mobile, hanging above my head, and watched the weightless birds bump into one another. And then a cold haze of doom rushed through me. I was pregnant. This was real. The thing living in my stomach, the going away, the lie, the ruin of my life,
it was all really going to happen. Downstairs, Dorothy was at the kitchen table, looking at the yellow pages. I glanced down and saw an advertisement with a picture of Jesus on a cross and the words Teenage Pregnancy/Catholic Services. Dorothy looked up at me—it was the same look she had when we all returned on Christmas Eve from my dad's house, to show her the piles of gifts that Kate had picked out for us. The look was there again when we left for the British Virgin Islands during the first week of January. It was stoic and silent, until you got up close and saw the crushing, palpable sadness behind it. It couldn't be missed or ignored. Every time I saw that look, I shivered. She forced a closed-mouth smile.

“Good morning, Liz.”

“Hi, Mom . . . What are you doing?”

There was a long pause. “Looking for a place for you to
live
.” I tried not to look at her. I couldn't take it. Her words came out in a sharp staccato rhythm. “You have an appointment today in Wilmette at the photo studio for graduation.”

My brain froze. I couldn't think straight. “I can't do that, Mom. I can't have my senior picture taken
today
. . . .”

“You
can
and you
will
.”

“No, Mom. Not after knowing what I know. Please, I can't.”

But Dorothy stood up and stepped toward me, pointing her finger. “You will do this,” she said. I backed up out of the kitchen, stumbling. She kept pointing her finger nearer, and finally
on
my chest, until I'd backed all the way up the stairs to the hallway. She pointed toward my room. I backed in the door, she silently pointed to the bed. I sat down. She stepped in, shut the door behind her, and looked at me with a frightening resolve.

“You will do
whatever
you have to do to
graddduuuaaatteee
from high school, Liz Pryor. Taking this photograph is a part of
that
.” She walked out the door and came back a few seconds later with a light blue oxford cloth button-down and placed it on my bed.

“You can wear this, it's clean and ironed. Brush your hair and come down to the car.” I cried like a baby as I changed into the
shirt. I looked at my puffy self in the mirror. I didn't want to have a picture of me, at the lowest point in my life, that would live in a yearbook until the end of time. I wanted to run and hide and bury myself somewhere, leaving behind no evidence. The entire car ride to the studio, I tried to convince Dorothy we should turn around. She wouldn't budge. We sat in the parking lot in front of the photography studio while I pleaded with her.

“Mom, please. Look at me. I don't look like myself. I don't want to see people now that I know.
Please
, I can't do it.” She turned and said, “Get
out
of the car, and
pretend
that you can.”

I slowly walked into the studio, wiped my tears, and
pretended
I was a normal girl. I said hi to a few kids I recognized. I waited my turn and walked into a little room with a brown cloth backdrop and a chair. The photographer put some cover-up under my eyes and told me to smile, and I did.

• • • •

Alice sauntered into the lounge. In her annoying singsongy voice, she announced she had some news. The priests from the church next door had invited all the girls in the facility to join them for Easter brunch at the rectory. Alice went on about bacon and sausage and pastries and chocolate Easter eggs, and the girls hooted with excitement.

“I imagine everyone will be able to make it? But we will need a head count,” Alice said.

“I won't be there,” I said. “My mom's coming to visit.”

Tilly looked over at me. “So you're leaving for the only good meal we will ever have in this place? The only meal you could actually eat?”

“Sorry . . .” I said, smiling. I couldn't wait for Easter.

“Well, I hope this baby doesn't fall out of me while you're gone,” Tilly said. She looked up at the ceiling with a pout.

“You may not have that kid while I'm gone, Tilly,” I said. “I'm not kidding. I want to be here when you go.”

“Well, she better cross her fucking legs, then. Look at her, she's about to burst,” Amy said.

Jill cleared her throat and shuffled her deck loudly at the table. She expertly swooshed all fifty-two cards onto the table facedown and said to me and Tilly, “Both of you, pick a card.” I reached over and picked the card on the end. Tilly picked one from the middle of the fan line.

“Show 'em to me,” Jill said. I turned over the king of hearts; Tilly showed us the four of clubs. Jill smiled. “She's not gonna have that baby while you're gone.”

• • • •

I couldn't wait for my mom to visit. I loved Easter as a kid, I mean I
loved
it. Waking up in the morning to our baskets at the end of our beds, filled with silly toys and jelly beans . . . We'd all get out of bed and line up at the top of the big staircase, gripping our baskets, waiting for the okay from our parents. When my mom gave the sign, we'd fly down the stairs like maniacs and into the giant open living room, where you could see hundreds of candy eggs hidden on top of pictures, inside lampshades, in the corners of couches and chairs, in the pleats of curtains, in plants, under the piano. And then we'd eat chocolate eggs till we were sick to our stomachs.

My memories of the holidays throughout the years lived very specifically inside me, glowing and permanent. My mom had a passion for tradition that went beyond the norm. She loved holidays and customs with every morsel of her being. I mean she
poured
her joy into those days like nothing else. Her contagious enthusiasm brought the magic, and surprisingly, year after year, it never failed to meet the expectation. This year, despite everything, it would be a scrap of normalcy—of happiness—for me to hang on to.

• • • •

Later, back in my room, Wren knocked on the door and shouted that I had a phone call.

I picked up and heard the familiar voice.

“Hellllooooo, Liz, dear.”

“Hiiiiiii, Mom, how are you?”

“I'm well, honey. How is it going?”

“Okay, I guess. I mean I'm getting pretty tired of it here. I can't wait to see you. Where are we going for Easter? Wait, actually, I don't care. I just want to see you.”

There was a long pause. I detected the slightest trace of the Katharine Hepburn voice as she began to answer.

“Liz, I . . . well, I couldn't exactly work it out with your father and the twins for Easter.”

“What do you mean?” I asked.

“Your dad apparently has plans and couldn't accommodate taking the twins, so it doesn't look as though I can make it to you for Easter. It's just too difficult to work out. I can't bring the twins to you, and I can't leave them here for Easter, you see?” I felt everything inside me drop a notch.

“Well . . .”

“Of course, I can come after at some point. But probably not until the following week. The thing is, Rosemary and her family have invited us
all
down to Sea Island, Georgia. We haven't been anywhere in a long time. I thought I'd take the twins at least, and we can have a nice time. It won't be very Easter-like, but . . . I feel terrible, sweetheart. I know how much you would love it. Liz, are you there?”

“Yeah.”

“I
am
sorry, honey, so sorry. I will be sure to get up to see you as soon as we return.”

“How long will you and the twins be gone?”

“Just a week.”

“Okay . . . I have to go.”

“Lizzie, I love you. Happy Easter, sweet . . .” But I slammed the phone down before she finished. In fact I slammed it several times. I picked the receiver up again and again and again, slamming
it back down harder and harder each time. I sat on the cold wooden seat in the phone booth and waited as my brain and my heart caught up with each other. I swallowed the rising ball in the back of my throat, the one that usually meant I was about to cry. But I pushed it back down and felt something different making its way through me. I shoved the phone booth door behind me and headed back to my room. Jill said something as I stormed in, but I didn't hear her. I lay down on my bed, crossed my arms, and stared up at the ceiling.

A few minutes later Tilly was standing over my bed, looking down at me. “What happened? Liz?
Liz!
” She turned to Jill. “What happened? What's wrong with her?”

“I don't know. She took the phone call and she's been lying there like that ever since. I think she's pissed about something.” Tilly was pacing the room like a lawyer on a TV show. I lay as still as a corpse on my bed, staring up at the ceiling, feeling the rage brew inside me. I couldn't say anything. After trying to get me to talk for a few minutes, they gave up. Jill asked Tilly if she thought I would think it was okay if she borrowed one of the sketch pads that Kate and Lee brought for me. Tilly answered that she was sure I wouldn't mind. Jill pulled out a new sketch pad for both of them. Tilly talked about Rick while she drew Easter eggs. Jill sat on her bed with a pencil and pad and sketched quietly. I remained still as a statue. My mind tried to push the sadness of the Easter letdown to the front, but I rejected it. I turned it off. I closed it. I told it I was tired of being sad, in fact I was fucking
out
of sadness. I wasn't interested in going there—not anymore. I remained still for a long time, listening to Jill's pencil sketching, ignoring the pain trying to break me. I wasn't going to let that happen, not anymore. Tilly eventually went to bed, and I finally fell asleep.

• • • •

The next morning I woke up feeling something different. I couldn't quite put my finger on it. Jill was still sleeping, snoring like she always
did. Her sketch pad was open at the end of my bed. I picked it up to see an incredible drawing. It was me, sitting on the bed. My hand was on my forehead, and I was smiling and holding my guitar in my lap. It had strange, bold, sharp lines—but the eyes looked just like mine. At the bottom Jill had written in perfect cursive,
Sunny Girl with Guitar, April 1979
.

I gazed over at Jill as she slept and wondered how on earth she was the way she was. I leaned the drawing up against the mirror on my dresser. After a long, hot shower, I put on clean clothes and walked down the hall to Alice's office. She was sitting at her desk.

“Well, look at the early riser, this is a first.”

“I guess it's the new me,” I said. “I wanted to let you know that I kept Nellie's book she got from the school. Actually I gave it to Nellie to keep.”

“Oh yeah, Maryann mentioned that book. We couldn't find it in the room and Tilly hadn't seen it. So, what? It's gone?”

“I'll give you money for it.”

“It doesn't make us look good, you know, to the library. Might have to give you a consequence for breaking the rules.”

“What kind of consequence?”

“Well, I guess I'll assign you double chores for the week.”

“All right. Also, I
am
going to be here for Easter now.”

“Oh?” She looked up at me. “What happened?”

“My mom can't come,” I said. And I didn't cry or get upset. It was just what it was. There was nothing I could do about it.

• • • •

I headed down early for my Dr. Dick appointment that morning. I was the first one there. The freaky nurse lifted one eyebrow when she saw me. The doctor came in where I was waiting on the table in the creepy room. As usual, he didn't look at me.

“You know the drill, feet up in the stirrups.” But I stayed sitting up, looking at him. My anger seemed to be stirring something different inside me.

“I have a couple questions,” I said.

“What is it?” He seemed annoyed. But I could feel just a hint of something; I thought it might be strength. I looked him square in the eye.

“Can you please tell me when you think this baby will be ready to come out?”

“I guess I can try,” he said.

“Okay. And can you tell me if there's anything I can do to make that part easier?”

“You mean the labor?”

“Yeah.”

“Relaxing helps, but nothing's going to make it easy, young lady.”

“Okay, and how long will it take?”

“I have no idea. It could take one hour, forty hours . . .” Forty hours? “Most of these girls, it's at least fourteen, maybe twenty hours.” I sat back and put my feet up in the stirrups. I gritted my teeth as he poked and prodded. I felt the back of my throat swelling again, but I pushed it down when he told me to sit up.

“Looks like this baby will be ready in a few weeks. There is a note in your chart about being out by a certain date. Looks to me like that's going to happen. If it doesn't, we can use a drug to bring the labor on, speed up the process.”