The Unfinished Child (22 page)

“Oh, Elizabeth,” she said. “I’m so sorry. If I had known you were going to go to this much trouble I’d have insisted the girls come with me.”

Elizabeth shrugged. “It doesn’t matter. I suppose it’ll give us more of a chance to visit. I hope you’re hungry!” She went into the kitchen and returned with a carafe of coffee. “I made decaf,” she said and gestured toward Marie’s belly. “I figured you’d be off caffeine.”

Marie nodded. She moved toward the sliding glass doors and stepped onto the balcony while Elizabeth poured the coffee. Sure enough, the view was lovely. It was breezy at this height, and cool. She walked to the railing and rested her elbows on it. The ground was a long way down. She started when Elizabeth appeared suddenly beside her with two coffee mugs in her hands.

“Beautiful, isn’t it?”

Marie nodded and took the coffee.

“The ice is finally coming off the river,” she added. “Believe it or not, I think spring is on the way.”

“I hope so. It was a long winter.”

They stared quietly out at the valley. It was too early yet for any signs of green, but the belt of naked black trees along the river offered its own kind of beauty.

Marie nodded to the distance. “Those trees wouldn’t have given much of a hiding place, would they?” She shook her head. “I still can’t believe some of the stuff we heard when we were up that tree. I wonder whatever happened to that principal. Remember? The one who ended up with that girl’s dad?”

“I have no idea. I’ve always wondered about that girl who flunked first grade. Jane something-or-other. Imagine flunking first grade. What would that do for your self-esteem?”

They went back inside, and this time Marie noticed the furniture. The leather couch and matching chair. The low-slung coffee table made from some kind of acid-washed metal. Everything was new.

“Do you like it?”

Elizabeth might as well have punched Marie in the stomach. She hadn’t consulted her on any of this. Normally they would have gone shopping together. What had happened to their friendship? She wrapped her arms around her middle and rocked imperceptibly.

“Yes, it’s fine,” she lied. “I can see you’ve spent some time decorating.”

“Oh, just a bit here and there,” Elizabeth said dismissively.

Marie noticed pictures hanging on the kitchen wall. She walked closer and peered at the black and white images. “I haven’t seen this in a while.” In one photo she was twenty years younger and twenty pounds lighter.

“Whose roof are we standing on?” Marie asked.

“That was Gillian’s.”

“God, I haven’t thought about her in years.” Only part of that was true. She
didn’t
think of Gillian, but she often remembered the party she’d had at Pigeon Lake. Marie had passed out on the couch. When she woke up the next morning with a wicked hangover, she’d groped her way to the bathroom and tried to overlook the pools of vomit in the bathtub. How could people be so disgusting?

“Whatever happened to Gillian, anyway?”

“I don’t know. I bumped into her at Southgate about ten years ago. She was with two of her kids. I think she had four already at that time.”

Gillian had been religious, yet she’d thrown some wild parties.

“I guess she could have had four more by now,” Elizabeth said, reading her thoughts. She sat down. “Help yourself.”

Marie put one of everything onto a small china dish.

“How are you feeling, anyway?” Elizabeth asked.

Terrible. Terrible and terrified.
“Better now. Now that the first tri-mester is done, the morning sickness is over, and I’m not so exhausted as I was.”

“That’s good.”

“My doctor’s scheduled me for a routine amnio next week. Apparently being pregnant at thirty-nine means I’m a bit of a ‘risk.’”

“Sometimes I think doctors just like sticking needles into people. I know I was a pincushion for more than a few years.”

Marie remembered the bruises that covered Elizabeth’s stomach. The hair that had sprouted on her chin. How at one point she’d been so bloated she looked like she’d been on an eating binge with Marie.

They sampled their pastries in silence.
Tell her you’re afraid.
The chair creaked as Marie shifted. She remembered its newness.

“Have you talked to Ron lately?”

“No, I told him not to call for a while, but I was feeling so lonely one night that I tried him anyway. And can you believe it, the bugger wasn’t home! He hadn’t reset the machine either, even though I’d left him instructions. I must have let it ring a hundred times before I finally gave up.”

Marie pictured Elizabeth staring out over the darkened valley, the phone at her ear and nobody answering on the other end.

“Do you miss him?”

Elizabeth shrugged. “It’s hard to say. Do I miss
him
or do I just need to get used to being alone?”

“Well, you guys have been through a lot. Maybe some time apart will help you know whether or not you should be together.”

“That’s what I’m hoping. Lately I’ve been feeling fond of him. I’m remembering our early days when we were just getting to know each other.”

“Apparently Frances bumped into him at the farmers’ market,” Marie said. “She was
really
mad that I hadn’t told her you guys had split up. She felt like an idiot when she asked him what was new.”

They laughed, imagining the look on Frances’s face.

“Then she interrogated me. She wanted to know if you were seeing someone else. She said you’d better watch out because probably all the single teachers at his school are lining up for him. ‘Trolling,’ I think was her exact word.”

“Well, she’s probably right. But I think I confused the vultures when I sent Ron some flowers for Valentine’s Day. I sent them to the school.”

“That’s sweet.” They were courting again, Marie thought, and she pushed away the jealousy that she was beginning to revisit.

“It gets better; the next day he sent me some flowers at work.”

Marie laughed, imagining a delivery person delivering flowers to a flower shop. She watched Elizabeth lick her finger and dab at the crumbs on her plate. She was wearing a short-sleeved shirt and Marie admired the sculpted cut of her upper arm.

“I sense there’s more to this story.”

“Maybe . . . We’ll see. We haven’t actually seen each other yet. We’ve written a couple of letters.”

“Letters?”

“Yeah, you know, paper and pen . . .”

“Of course I know,” Marie said. “How did that start?”

Elizabeth shrugged. “I was missing him one night, and I decided to write down some of the sweeter memories I had of us together. I didn’t write much, but it felt nice to remember them. And then I figured, What the hell, why not put a stamp on it and send it to him? Maybe he’d enjoy remembering those times too.”

“And?”

“And a week later I got a letter from him.”

“I
love
that!”

“Yeah, me too. You know, when I first left I wondered if I was just punishing him for not getting me pregnant. It was almost like I had no one to blame, so I decided to blame him.”

“Well, it’s not like you’d been wanting to leave for a long time or anything,” Marie said.

“Actually, I’d been thinking about it for a couple of years.”

Marie put her coffee down abruptly.

“Oh, for God’s sake. Don’t take it so personally, Marie. This isn’t about you, okay? It’s not like you call me every day. You’re busy. You’ve got your family and now you’re working part-time.” Elizabeth shrugged. “You probably would have said the same thing as my mom:
Don’t leave him, he’s the best thing to ever happen to you
.”

Marie picked up a lemon square. A dusting of icing sugar covered the filling that sat on a thin pastry crust. She bit into it. It was sweet and tart at the same time and melted on her tongue like a snowflake.

“I wouldn’t have seen it as complaining,” Marie said. “It’s natural that people go through trying times in their relationships. It doesn’t mean they’ve made a mistake necessarily. Barry and I have certainly had our ups and downs.”

“I know,” Elizabeth interrupted. “It’s just . . .”

“What?”

“Oh, I don’t know.” Elizabeth shrugged.

“No, tell me. What?”

“You don’t tell me everything that goes on in your life, do you?” Elizabeth said firmly.

“The big stuff I do,” Marie said.
Tell her now.

“Well I’ll try harder to keep you informed,” Elizabeth promised. “Really, I will.”

Marie opened her mouth. “I was downtown the other day, and I almost called you for lunch. I was at the library and . . .”

“Oh, that would have been nice,” Elizabeth said, “but I’ve started going to the gym again at lunch. I do yoga three times a week and I row on the other days.” She held up her taut arms and showed her muscles. “I realized that I’d stopped taking care of myself, so I’m trying to eat better and exercise more. Plus,” she added, “it helps pass the time. Speaking of which”—she gestured toward Marie’s belly—“the time’s getting closer, huh? Nicole and Sophia will be great big sisters. I remember Nicole once telling me that she’d love for you to have another baby.”

“Really?” Marie said. “When was that?”

“Oh, a few years ago. She’d asked me why I didn’t have any kids of my own. I told her that I really wanted one but was having some problems getting pregnant.” Elizabeth laughed. “Do you know what she said?”

Marie shook her head.

“She said, ‘Maybe my mom could have one for you.’ Wasn’t that sweet?”

Marie smiled. “Nicole’s always been fond of you.”

“Speaking of Nicole, what would you say if I asked her to work part-time at the shop this summer?”

Marie imagined Nicole’s delight.

“I could use her for a few hours every Saturday. And I’d teach her how to cut flowers and make arrangements.”

“She’d love that.”

“And I’m sure she’d love some pocket money too. It’s still a few months away. Do you want to ask her, or should I phone?”

“Why don’t you call? I won’t mention it. It’d mean more to her if you called.”

Marie looked at her watch. “I’d better get going,” she said.

Elizabeth filled a small box with leftover goodies. “Take these home, and tell the girls I’ll have them over soon.”

Marie dropped her eyes and thanked her.

“When is your amnio appointment again?”

“Next week.”

“I’ll put it on my calendar to be sure to send you good vibes.”

“Thanks.” She looked down at the box in her hand so Elizabeth wouldn’t see the tears that had filled her eyes.

“And thanks for the plant.”

“You’re welcome.”

Marie put on her jacket and hugged her friend goodbye. She felt Elizabeth’s eyes on her all the way down the hallway. She waved once more when the elevator arrived, then she stepped inside, eager for the doors to close.

Elizabeth watched Marie walk down
the dimly lit hallway. If she hadn’t been watching, she felt sure Marie would have burst into a run. She waved again, and then Marie disappeared into the elevator.

The deadbolt slid into place.
The kids didn’t feel like coming.
Marie had never been a very good liar.

Outside on the balcony, she watched Marie exit the building and walk toward her van, cradling the box of pastries in her hand. The van backed out, merged into the southbound traffic, and disappeared over the bridge.

Every time Elizabeth had tried to talk about the baby, Marie had changed the subject. She wondered why.

The front of her building was now in shade, but the sun continued to shine on the floodplains alongside the river. At the park to the south a dozen players warmed up at the baseball diamond. On the still-brown grass the white ball could have been the last snowball of the year. She found herself watching a lean, dark-haired figure in right field who had a similar stride to Ron’s.

Two months had passed without either one of them calling, and as the days passed she realized the extent of her loss. She’d be behind the counter at work and think he was in the store. Her heart would flutter wildly for a moment until she realized it was someone else. How ironic. When she had moved out she hadn’t expected to be the one disappointed.

She gazed out at the valley again. Joggers, cyclists, and dog walkers dotted the trails. The day hadn’t turned out as she’d planned. Instead of it being an exuberant housewarming party, Marie’s visit had tinged the afternoon with sadness. She thought about phoning Marie’s house and telling the girls she was sorry they hadn’t been able to come. Marie would arrive home and find two angry daughters waiting.

A more mature response would be to wait until Marie was ready to unburden herself with whatever it was that was bothering her. In all fairness, she could understand Marie’s hesitation in talking about the baby with her. But if she was patient, Marie would come to her. She always did.

Inside, she finished clearing away the dishes. Then she wiped the table, found a clean sheet of paper, and sat down.

Dear Ron,
she began.

Another weekend without you. I was just out on my balcony catching the last of the day’s sunshine when I saw a handful of men playing baseball in the field by the old brick school (did you know that was once a home for unwed mothers? It was run by nuns, I think). Of course I thought of you immediately (because of the baseball, not the nuns). I guess you’ll be happy to know that even when you’re not here my thoughts easily turn toward you. Animal magnetism you’d probably say. Right? Grrrrr. But I was thinking about your eye–hand coordination (or lack thereof)! Remember that grounder you stopped with your jaw? I was so happy that you hadn’t lost any teeth because you’ve got a beautiful smile.

But enough about your good looks. I know I was the one to put an embargo on face-to-face visits, but at this very moment I’m thinking that was a really stupid idea. I deserve a failing grade for that one.

I miss you, Ron. These months alone have helped me to understand some things. Like how I haven’t appreciated you enough. Like how you’re the best friend I’ve ever had.

She stopped writing. It was true, wasn’t it? Ron
was
her best friend. How had she not seen that before?