The Language of Sisters (15 page)

Nova’s expression was matter-of-fact. “If you decide to stay with Shane.”

I didn’t look at her, fiddling instead with a loose string on my cotton sweater. “You think I shouldn’t stay with him?”

A sharp cry arose from the monitor, and Nova jumped up, tucking her sandy hair behind one ear as she spoke. “I didn’t say
that.” She stepped over a jumbled pile of colorful wooden blocks. “But shouldn’t it be you and not your boyfriend who decides if you want to be a mother?”

“Well,” I began, and she held up her hand to stop me.

“Just food for thought,” she said as she headed down the hallway to get Layla.

As if my thoughts didn’t already have enough to eat,
I said to myself as I stood up in order to get Jenny ready to go. I wanted to be there when our mother got home. I had something I wanted to ask her.

•  •  •

When Mom walked through the front door, Jenny and I had finished dinner and were sitting in the living room listening to NPR’s classical hour on the radio. Jenny gazed at our mother, adoration shining in her face like polished gold. “Ahhh,” she gurgled from her spot next to me on the couch as a smile blossomed with drooling lips. A small part of me resented how much my sister seemed to still adore our mother when it was I who was with her all of the time.

Mom sat down next to Jenny and ruffled her younger daughter’s dark curls. “Hi, sweetie. Your sister taking good care of you?”

You’d better say yes,
I thought to myself, looking at my sister with warning in my eyes.

“Ahhh,” Jenny responded happily.

Mom smiled. “Good.” She unfastened the clip that held her hair in a bun, letting it fall loose around her face. I noticed her roots, gray and thick across her scalp, announcing her age. She slid a slender arm behind Jenny’s shoulders and hugged her. Such open display of affection had been unusual for her since Jenny
had been home; I wondered if her defenses might be melting. I decided to take the chance.

“Mom?” I ventured hesitantly, sliding one foot under the opposite thigh and adjusting the rest of my body to face her.

“Hmmm?” She didn’t look at me.

“Do you ever regret having us?”

“What?”

I leaned forward over Jenny, anxious for an honest response. “I just wonder if you ever wish you hadn’t become a mother. If you ever thought about what you might have done with your life if we hadn’t been born.”

“For heaven’s sake, what brought that question on?” She turned her face to me briefly, then looked back to her lap. She appeared oddly unnerved.

“Talking with Shane. He doesn’t want kids.”

“I thought you didn’t, either.”

“Yeah, well, maybe I’m not so sure anymore.”

Mom sighed, pulled her arm away from my sister, and rested her hands in her lap. “The grass is always greener, honey. I know it’s a cliché, but it’s the truth.”

“That’s a nice way to avoid answering my question.” I should have known better than to try to talk to her about this.

“I’m not avoiding it. That is my answer. When you have kids, you wonder what it would be like to not have them. I’m sure that when you don’t have them, you wonder what having them would be like. Regret isn’t even an issue.”

“Even with all that happened with Jenny? You never regretted having her?” My sister turned her dark head to me and poured her eyes into mine as I said this, quietly awaiting our mother’s answer.

Mom was silent, the only sound in the room the faint classical
rhythm still playing from the stereo. She breathed deeply for a moment before responding. The muscles of her face were tight, but a small twitch danced nervously beneath her right eye, suggesting the effort her restraint took. She snapped and unsnapped the clip she held with the tips of her fingers several times. I held my breath, waiting until she finally looked at me, her green eyes filled with tears.

“It’s hard to explain when you haven’t been a mother yourself,” she whispered.

“Could you try, please? I want to understand.” And I did want to. I thought if she could explain her feelings about having a daughter like Jenny, I might better understand what was happening with us now.

Mom stared at the mantel above the fireplace. “I don’t regret having Jenny,” she began. “The only thing I regret … ” She trailed off and blinked away tears, then shook her dark head.

Jenny sat quietly between us, looking off at some unknown point toward the kitchen entryway. I reached out a tentative hand over my sister’s lap, the tips of my fingers barely brushing our mother’s own in reassurance. I was desperate to hear what she might have to say. “What, Mom?”

Her thin bottom lip trembled, and she lifted her chin to steady it. She turned to me, her face full of a pain I didn’t recognize, then finally spoke. “I regret not protecting her,” she said quickly, as though she couldn’t get the words out fast enough. Stunned, I opened my mouth to speak, but nothing came out.

She stood up immediately, pinching the bridge of her nose. “I’ve got a terrible headache. I’m going to bed.”

“But,” I began, reaching out to stop her from leaving. I had to know what she meant.

“I don’t want to talk about it,” she said, jerking her body away from my reach. Talk about what?
What
hadn’t she protected
Jenny from? The rape at Wellman? Dad’s angry fists? Or was my mother admitting she knew about what else he had done?

“Good night,” she said resolutely, stepping purposefully past both her daughters. She strode down the hall to her room, slamming the door behind her, leaving me with more unanswered questions than I knew how to carry.

•  •  •

“Do you want to know the sex?” the technician inquired as she slowly rolled her instrument over my sister’s bare belly. Jenny lay stiffly on her back, hands clawed together nervously, unsure of what was happening to her. I had explained that we were going to see pictures of the baby in her tummy, to make sure it was healthy and happy, but as the technician helped me lay her down on the table in the darkened room, panic danced in Jenny’s eyes.

I looked over to Dr. Fisher, who had what Nova said was the unusual policy of attending her high-risk patients’ ultrasounds. “What do you think?” I asked my sister, my hand gently stroking her dark hair back from her face. I looked into her eyes. “Should we find out if you’re having a girl or a boy?”

Jenny’s gaze searched mine, and the word
baby
whispered through me. I smiled, a little surprised. Maybe she understood more than I thought. “I think we’d like to know.” I knew I wanted to.

The technician maneuvered the wand over Jenny’s belly again. “I can’t give you a hundred-percent guarantee, but if you’ve bought any blue clothes you might want to return them. This baby is as girlie as she can be.”

“See right there?” Dr. Fisher was pointing at the screen. “The golden arches, we call them. Labia.” She turned to the technician. “I can take it from here, Janet. Thank you.”

After the technician left, Dr. Fisher helped me set Jenny upright and get her back into her wheelchair. My sister was groaning a bit, not unhappily so but simply emitting the low, constant sound I had begun to understand as her way of releasing stress.

“So,” I said, “a girl. Is everything all right? Did she look normal?” The image on the screen had been only a blur of gray-and-black static to me, though seeing the fluttering heart sent tears to my eyes in the same manner hearing its beat had.

“The baby looks fine,” Dr. Fisher said. “The only discrepancy is that the fetus is measuring at twenty-two weeks, and we’re pretty sure the pregnancy is at twenty-six weeks.”

“What does that mean?”

“Just that she’s a little on the small side. We’ll keep an eye on it at our office visits.” She paused, considering something, then nodded to herself, as though she had made a decision. She turned her sharp brown eyes to me, probing. “You’re doing great with her, Nicole. How about with yourself?”

“I’m fine,” I said, surprised by her show of concern. I wondered if I looked as worn-down as I felt. Then I laughed, thinking of Nova’s explanation of what the letters of “fine” stood for. I told the story to Dr. Fisher.

“That sounds like Nova,” she said with an uncharacteristic grin. It lit up her entire face, and suddenly she appeared not only elegant, but very pretty. “I’ll have to teach it to my other patients.” She paused. “Have you called Social Services yet about placement for the baby?”

Terrified she might ask me why I hadn’t taken care of this seemingly simple task, I lowered my head and shook it. “I can’t seem to pick up the phone.”

“Are you considering keeping her?” Her tone revealed nothing of what she might think.

Panic fluttered in my chest as I whispered my response. “Maybe.” I couldn’t believe the word as it passed over my lips, and yet there it’d been, waiting to be spoken.

She seemed unfazed by this revelation. “Well, you have some time to decide.” She stood up and went to the door. “I’ll see you two next week, okay?”

“Okay,” I said, trying to gather my rattled senses. “Um, thanks for coming, Dr. Fisher. I really appreciate it.”

She waved in acknowledgment and then was gone. When Jenny and I were bundled into the car and I had started the drive home, something pulled me in a different direction, toward Nova’s house. We hadn’t seen her for a couple of days, and I was dying to tell someone who’d be as excited as I was about finding out Jenny was having a baby girl. I couldn’t believe the anticipatory thrill I felt in knowing. From the moment the technician had told us, my mind had been flooded with images of shopping for darling frilly, pink outfits and teensy-tiny black patent Mary Jane shoes. Visions of cradling this child in my arms overwhelmed me: nuzzling her the way Nova did with Layla; kissing her toes and the chubby rolls of her thighs; drinking in the sweet nectar of her breath. The strength and immediacy of these images shocked me; I had not had them before.

I sighed, glanced over to Jenny, who was staring at me disconcertingly. “Your sister is losing it, Jen,” I told her. It wasn’t as if I would actually keep the baby, despite my shaky response to Dr. Fisher’s question. But as the knowing intensity of Jenny’s gaze moved over me, I shivered and returned my focus to the road ahead.

The front door to Nova’s house was open, so after I managed to get Jenny up the stairs, I walked right inside, calling out for my friend. “Hello? It’s Nicole. Anybody home?” I heard a tittering explosion of laughter coming from the back bedroom as the door
opened, and out stepped Garret, looking nothing like the man I had met the night of my first visit to Nova’s.

He was bedecked in a pointed fairy hat, complete with a trailing pink veil. His lips were painted bright red to match the circles of rouge on his cheeks, and he wore a sweeping pink cape around his shoulders. He appeared a bit embarrassed when he saw me but still smiled, his lips greatly exaggerated by their makeup.

“Hi,” he said. “I’ve been shanghaied into playing castle. Come on back.” The warm sound of his voice entered my bloodstream, and the temperate, early-summer air suddenly seemed unbearably hot.

“Where’s Nova?” I inquired as I gently guided Jenny’s stilted steps down the hall to Rebecca’s bedroom. Lucy and Rebecca were also in costume, jumping on Rebecca’s bed and giggling ferociously.

“She took the boys and Layla to the beach, so I’m watching the girls.” He swished his cape dramatically around his body. “Do you like my outfit? Lucy picked it out herself.”

“Oh, it’s gorgeous,” I said, amused by his silliness. I backed Jenny up, carefully lowering her onto the cushions of the window seat.

Garret moved toward us. “Here, let me help you.” He grabbed a couple of pillows from the bed and set them around Jenny, who was staring at his garish appearance with amazement. “How about you, Jenny? Do
you
like my outfit?”

Jenny blinked deliberately, turning her head away in a coy movement, a delicious smile lighting up her face. Garret sat down next to her, putting the cape between her fingers. “Here, feel. Isn’t it silky?”

Lucy jumped off the bed and hopped over to her father. Her smooth cap of dark hair bounced haphazardly, a crooked rhinestone tiara nestled on the top of her head. She wore a long-sleeved lavender leotard with a bright orange, netted tutu. She patted
Jenny’s other hand. “Hi, little girl. Do you want to play castle?” She paused, then looked at me, the green in her hazel eyes bright. “She says yes. Can I dress her up?”

I stood back, shaking my head in amazement at this eloquent child. “Sure.”

Garret retrieved the plastic makeup compact Lucy held in her little fingers. “Let Daddy help you, peanut. Why don’t you go find Jenny a hat?”

“I’ll do it!” Rebecca cried out, and she and Lucy raced out the door and down the back stairs to the basement.

“The costume trunk is downstairs in the playroom,” Garret said by way of explanation for their journey.

“I see.” I smiled, then paused, unsure what to say next. I finally settled on a compliment. “You seem so comfortable with Jenny. Have you been around other handicapped people?”

He nodded. “A kid in my neighborhood, growing up … ” He trailed off, remembering.

There was a slight pause, neither of us knowing exactly what to say. Once again, I picked a compliment. “Lucy’s a great little girl.”

“Thanks. She is pretty amazing. I can’t believe sometimes that I helped make her. That she
came
from me, you know?”

“That must be amazing. I don’t have kids, so I guess I can’t know exactly how it feels, but I think you’re doing a great job with her.”

His smile was slow as he pulled the fairy hat off his dark head. “And I think what you’re doing for your sister is great. Nova told me about your situation. I hope you don’t mind.”

I shook my head. “Of course not. She told me a bit about yours, as well.”

“So you asked about me, too, then?” he inquired, a flicker of something terribly exciting in his eyes. Something I hadn’t seen in
a man’s eyes for a very long time. I flushed, crossed my arms over my chest, and looked down to the floor.

“Well, yeah. I guess I did. Lucy was just so sweet … ”