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It was a strange shape for a present. In fact it looked suspiciously like a football, but as helpless as her father was at coming up with appropriate gifts, she didn't think he'd go that far wrong. It was in fact a football-shaped bowl on legs, glazed a beautiful blue, with a chopstick holder and a pair of wooden chop sticks. Adriana thought he must have bought it at the Japanese store. Was it as close to a Chinese present as he could get?

Mr. Song handed Beth a mesh bag full of gold foil covered chocolate coins. Adriana felt a pang of something. Those were her favourite birthday present. Had her father forgotten? But Mr. Song patted Adriana's arm. “Some for you too, big sister,” he said. Adriana smiled, a real smile that made her eyes crinkle and her cheeks round. Beth sat with a chocolate coin in her mouth, watching them both.

Adriana never enjoyed her own birthday, because she hated everyone looking at her as she opened her presents. Beth didn't seem to mind—she ploughed through unwrapping the gifts with very little comment. Her eyes looked tired and sad, Adriana thought. She wondered what Aunt Penny would have done for Beth on her birthday. Maybe there was a special ritual of some kind.

Afterward, Beth seemed defeated by the mound of presents on the bed. In the face of her resignation, Mr. Song nodded to Adriana surreptitiously. Adriana picked up a book of fairy tales that her father had wrapped for Beth and began to read. Fairy tales were full of wicked stepmothers and magic, but Adriana was a sucker for the fight between good and evil. Beth's eyes took on a faraway look. It scarcely seemed possible that she would be a teenager this time next year, Adriana thought.

Snow White had a wicked queen of a stepmother to torment her. Sometimes, Adriana remembered, she had pretended her own mother was that wicked witch and that her “real” mother had somehow sacrificed her life to protect Adriana from evil. When Viera died, Adriana felt a terrible gnawing guilt, as though her fantasies had engulfed them both. Since then, she made a point of regarding her mother with an even detachment, which had led to a kind of truce, though an uneasy one. Viera had stood in constant judgement of her, until just recently. Now Adriana was uncertain of what to expect from Viera, whose smile had faded, along with her wickedness.

Mr. Song excused himself to go to the washroom. It seemed, he thought, that the mental hospital always made him want to pee. Was it the gloom of the place, despite all the large prints of cheerful paintings, and the rustic touches, like the hand-painted border around the nursing station? Mr. Song wished there was a two-way mirror so he could see what his daughters were up to without them knowing he was watching. But first he needed to empty his bladder.

Adriana read Beth the miraculous ending to the story of Snow White. Beth took the book in her hands and silently examined the illustrations, detailed line drawings in black and white. Without looking up, she asked Adriana, “Do you think we'll ever have a stepmother?”

Adriana's eyes widened. She hadn't considered the possibility for a long time. She shrugged, her hands open. Beth seemed to be waiting for something. “Dad's not dating anyone right now,” Adriana said. “He's only had one date since Mom died.” That was the first summer he was alone and the secretary of the engineering firm he worked for, Doris, had her eye on him. But her father didn't know how to woo a woman. He invited Doris to supper with himself and Adriana. Maybe she was expecting something fancy from an engineer but he served spaghetti, garlic bread and grape juice. There was one rose in a glass vase in the centre of the table. Doris, looking for something to say, commented, “My favourite flower!”, which Adriana thought was lame, because the rose was just about everyone's favourite flower. Mr. Song proceeded to tell her how he always had a flower on the table because his wife had loved them. Doris's smile withered and she sat rigid in her chair for the duration of the meal. When they were finished, they all sat awkwardly on the living room couch and played the board game Sorry, which Adriana now thought quite appropriate. It hadn't occurred to Mr. Song that including his daughter on his date with Doris would be a problem, but clearly it was. They never repeated the occasion and Mr. Song never even mentioned dating Doris again. It was to Adriana as if the evening had never happened, or even stranger, as if it had never registered on Mr. Song's radar as an event of any note.

Beth gazed at Adriana as though she were trying to make up her mind about something. Adriana squeezed her hand. “It's okay, Beth. I know you worry, but things will work themselves out.” Adriana didn't know for sure if that were true but it was the kind of thing her Dad would say, trusting and ever-hopeful.

Beth looked a lot like their mother, Adriana thought, but she didn't have that hardness at the core—she was just a traumatized little girl. If Viera had been alive, she might have sat Beth down and given her a stern talking to, but Adriana just held her sister's hand. She had a strange mixture of emotions mingling inside her—pity and anger, judgement and compassion, and misery. Adriana knew that she wouldn't choose to be the grudging older sister when she got out of the hospital, but she was fearful of what the relationship with her sister would demand of her. Would Beth want her attention all the time, or her approval?

Adriana was still holding Beth's hand when Mr. Song came back into the room. He sat down in the chair by the bed and sighed happily. He looked like he might be settled in for the afternoon, but Adriana suddenly felt like she needed to be alone, to sort things out in her head. She gave Beth's hand a squeeze and let go. “Thank you for coming,” Adriana said, smiling at them both. She wasn't sure how to tell them she wanted them to leave, but Beth stood up, her grey eyes rimmed red. She was ready to go home for a nap, or a little television therapy, Adriana thought. Mr. Song, slightly disappointed, got to his feet. Adriana held out her hand to her father. “I'm a bit tired, Dad,” she said by way of an excuse. It was the first time she'd ever explained herself to him. Mr. Song nodded eagerly, sensing something had changed though he was not able to put his finger on what or how.

“You rest then,” he said, steering Beth toward the door. Beth looked back at Adriana, who waved at her from the bed. She felt as though she were sending her younger sister off on a long voyage, a voyage she too had navigated through storms and gales, without a map. She hoped the Song family constellation, small as it was, would be enough to guide her sister to a safer path than the one she found herself on.

Chapter 32

At supper, there was an extra tray with a roast beef dinner on it. Adriana didn't think twice about forgoing her plastic-wrapped sandwich. A hot meal was still like a revelation to her, after so many meals of hard boiled eggs and cereal. Then she returned to her room, eager to take up the knitting again. She was careful though, aware that this hobby of hers could become an obsession, that it was bordering on one already. When there was a knock on the door, Adriana let the knitting fall in her lap.

Fiona poked her head into the crack of the open door. She looked very tired. “Hi, Adriana,” she said. “Elspeth will be coming back soon. I'm off shift now and won't be coming back to this unit, but I wanted to tell you that Dr. Burke discontinued your sleeping pill. He thinks you'll do do okay without it,” Fiona said, smiling encouragingly and smoothing a place to sit on Adriana's bed with her tanned hand. Adriana realized that was considered progress, here in the mental hospital. Every little movement toward passing through those stone gates was something to celebrate. And actually, strangely, Adriana felt a puff of pride. “So I wanted to say goodbye.” Fiona admitted. Adriana looked at her, regretfully. “Actually I'm going on maternity leave, so I won't see you before you leave the hospital.”

There were lines on Fiona's face that Adriana hadn't noticed before. Crow's feet at the corners of her eyes, and deep laugh lines around her mouth. Also, little wrinkle lines in the middle of her forehead, from worry. Fiona took Adriana's hand. “I have a daughter your age,” she said, smiling. “And a granddaughter.” Adriana's eyes widened. “My daughter is a smart girl, like you, but she followed too closely in my footsteps. She had her daughter when she was 18. And my daughter is depressed, too sick to take care of her child. So that's my job.” Fiona didn't look bitter but she did look worried. “I decided to have this baby before it was too late, and so that my granddaughter would have someone to grow up with. I don't know whether it's the right decision, but then, no one ever really knows that, do they?” She smiled, sadly, Adriana thought. So it wasn't Elspeth at all. It was Fiona.

Adriana leaned back against her pillows. Fiona was a grandmother, not the golden girl she had thought. Adriana shook her head. It wasn't possible. Fiona smiled and patted her hand. “My first daughter was an accident,” she said smiling. “A happy accident. But my second is definitely part of a plan. The father knows about the plan, but doesn't intend to be a part of this child's life,” she said rubbing her belly thoughtfully. “That's his choice. I'm just grateful he did me this one little favour before we parted company.”

“Congratulations, Fiona. I think you must be a great mom,” she said quietly. Her head ached. She closed her eyes. The sound of her voice, saying something so unremarkable, nevertheless felt strange and new.

Fiona got up from the bed and waddled toward the door. “Adriana, my sweet,” she said. “You don't need to know it, but my first daughter doesn't want to be admitted to the NS, even though she has been depressed a long time, even though she needs to be here. I don't blame her. I'm trying to take care of her at home but it's not easy. You did a brave thing to come here, and I hope you'll be just as brave when you leave. I'll have to say goodbye now, but I hope you keep making good choices. Go be happy and healthy and skedaddle out of this place soon,” Fiona smiled, and closed the door behind her.

Fiona was like a beacon, a shining light on the shores of happiness. Even now that she knew Fiona's story, there was something about her that was like gold. Adriana knew it wasn't courage that brought her to hospital, but the opposite. She had been at the end of her rope, frantic and afraid. And hopeless. That was the worst of it. And there was Fiona, choosing a life for herself that would have caused Adriana to despair. But she chose it for a reason and she was clear about what she wanted. Adriana felt like she was still groping in the darkness, not able to see beyond her fingertips.

She looked down at the knitting in her lap. What was it that drove her? Making scarves didn't indicate any kind of plan. The opposite in fact. She was still trying to keep reality at bay. Jazz had once told her, “Put your knitting needles away, grandma, and come play.” Jazz, who wanted to be a doctor (when she didn't want to be a chemist or a kinesiologist). She took the right courses at school, even though she struggled with the sciences. She was always planning something.

Adriana didn't know what it was that held her back. She had guessed by now that most people didn't have a long-dead mother sitting in the back of their head, waiting and watching. The medication seemed to keep her at bay, but she was aware of her mother's eyes on her just the same. It occurred to her that she had spent more time trying to placate or avoid her mother than she had thinking about her future. And her relationship with Peter was just one more attempt to be someone, in that case a girlfriend, instead of herself. And it had been a failed attempt.

It felt like something had shifted in Adriana's head. She realized that her brain no longer felt like a murky slosh, but more like a darkened room, where someone was moving furniture around. There was a ray of light, illuminating dust motes that floated like tiny sea creatures in the dense shadow of her mind.

She got out of bed wrapping her latest scarf around her neck. It was fuchsia and orange, too bright for a depressed person. Adriana guessed she would have to choose between her scarf and her diagnosis. She decided on the scarf.

Chapter 33

The hallway was deserted and there were just a couple people in the common room. One was a sleeping man. He looked somehow familiar, although she was certain she hadn't seen him on the unit before. The other was Samantha, her massive frame squeezed into the rocker, her legs stretched out in front of her. She beamed at Adriana.

“I came to see you,” she said. Her mouth crumpled a little. “Tony is off shift so they let me visit.” Adriana sat down cross-legged on the couch across from her. Samantha looked just the same, but her face was tastefully made up. “They said you were sleeping so I waited out here for you.”

Adriana smiled, and Samantha let out a loud guffaw, which she stifled immediately with her large hand. The orderly looked at her with disapproval, and the sleeping man on the couch, opened his eye blearily and rolled over, his back to the room.

Samantha leaned toward her, confidentially. “Things are better over on Laurel,” she said, with a sidelong glance at the orderly, who glared at her. Samantha smiled back sweetly, and whispered aloud. “They don't treat you like a criminal for expressing yourself over there,” she said. The orderly stood up and went into the back room of the nursing station, clearly miffed. Samantha laughed, a lovely peal that overflowed itself, and the man on the couch stirred slightly. She clapped a hand over her mouth again. “Don't want to wake up the poor soul,” she said. “He looks like he needs all the sleep he can get.

Adriana played with the scarf around her neck. There was something she wanted to ask. “Samantha,” she said.

“Yes, my pet?” she asked.

Adriana took a breath. “When you were my age, did you know you wanted to be a woman?”

Samantha smiled and nodded, her eyes bright. “I knew since I was a little boy,” she said. “Since I was two years old.”

Adriana let that information sink in. She didn't remember anything from that young age. She suspected Samantha might be imagining it. “Did you ever wonder whether you were making the right decision, when you became a woman?” There, she'd said it. Did Samantha have doubts? Regrets?