From here, she could see the yard below the window, the weathered fence beyond that. And on the other side, standing on something to get a better vantage point, a young man with a video camera looking right back at her.
‘Jesus,’ Audra said. She crossed to the window, pulled down the blind.
She flopped onto the bed, pulled her knees up to her chest, folded her arms around them.
Lying in the semidarkness, she remembered a hospital room far from here. A room where she had woken with a grinding behind her eyes. Confusion and fear. A doctor had explained to her that she’d taken an overdose. The nanny had found her on her bedroom floor, he said, half naked, barely conscious. Audra would probably have died otherwise. The paramedics had pumped her stomach and shot her full of adrenalin.
Patrick had visited her later that night, stayed for only a few minutes. ‘How could you be so stupid?’ he asked.
Another visitor came by the following day. She wore a plain gray dress with a crucifix around her neck. Her name was Sister Hannah Cicero, and she asked why Audra had taken so many pills, why she had taken them with neat vodka? Audra told her she couldn’t remember.
‘Did you overdose on purpose?’ Sister Hannah asked. ‘Did you try to kill yourself?’
‘I don’t remember,’ Audra said.
And she wondered: Had she? Had she finally reached the point where dying seemed a better choice than living? She knew that the last months had been dark, that she felt certain the world would be no poorer without her.
‘Would you like to pray?’ the nun asked.
‘I’m not religious,’ Audra said.
‘That’s okay,’ Sister Hannah said. ‘I’m a qualified counsellor as well as a nun. The first part and the second part don’t always overlap.’
‘A counsellor,’ Audra echoed as she remembered the conversation she’d had with Patrick on Sean’s second birthday.
Sean was seven and a half now, Louise not quite four. At Patrick’s insistence, Audra quit drinking as soon as the pregnancy test showed positive and they knew she had another baby inside her. She was allowed to keep taking the drugs, but at a reduced dosage. When Louise was born, Margaret swooped in once more and took over. Audra didn’t even get to try breast-feeding this time. In fact, she couldn’t quite remember feeding Louise at all. Three days after the baby was born, Patrick gave Audra a bottle of wine, and so she descended into the pit once more.
‘Do you feel like talking?’ Sister Hannah asked.
Audra said nothing. She rolled onto her side, faced the other way.
‘Would you rather I left?’
Audra opened her mouth to say yes, but the word did not come out. A silence hung in the room, and it terrified her so much that she had to say something.
‘I don’t know my children.’
‘Do you know their names?’
‘Sean and Louise.’
‘Well, that’s something. How old are they?’
‘Eight and three. Well, maybe closer to four. I’m not sure.’
‘And that’s something else. Try for a third thing.’
Audra thought for a moment. ‘Louise has a pink bunny. She calls it Gogo.’
‘What do you feel in your heart when you think of your children?’
Audra closed her eyes, concentrated on the ache in her breast. ‘That I miss them. That I let them down. That I don’t deserve them.’
‘No one deserves children,’ Sister Hannah said. ‘They’re not a prize you get for being a good girl. I understand the children’s nanny found you unconscious. Who hired her?’
‘My husband,’ Audra replied. ‘He said I wasn’t fit to care for my son. She’s been in our home ever since. I see my children at the dinner table, and they kiss me goodnight. I see them at breakfast, and they kiss me good morning. They call me Mother. They call Patrick Father. Not Mommy or Daddy. That’s not right, is it? I should be their mommy.’
‘You should. Then I guess the question is, why aren’t you?’
‘Like I told you, I don’t deserve them.’
‘Bullshit,’ Sister Hannah said. ‘You tell me that again, I’m going to kick your ass. Does Patrick drink?’
‘No,’ Audra said. ‘Not like I do.’
‘What about the drugs, the antidepressants, all that? Does he take them too?’
‘No. Never.’
‘What does he say about your drinking?’
Audra’s mouth dried. She imagined the cold sweetness of wine on her tongue. The feel of it in her throat.
‘He stays out of my way when I’m drunk,’ she said. ‘He tells me I’m shit when I’m hungover in the morning. Then when he comes home from work, he brings me more. Wine, usually, sometimes vodka.’
Sister Hannah was quiet for a moment, then she asked, ‘Does he get you the pills too?’
‘Yes,’ Audra said. ‘What I don’t understand is: Why? Why does he keep me around? What good am I to him? If I’m not a mother or a wife, what am I for?’
Another silence. Audra could feel Sister Hannah’s gaze on her back.
‘Tell me, do you have any friends?’
‘No,’ Audra said. ‘Not anymore.’
‘But you used to.’
‘Before we were married. But Patrick didn’t like them.’
‘So you and your friends drifted apart,’ Sister Hannah said.
‘Yeah.’
‘Do you ever go out without Patrick? To the store, for a walk, anywhere?’
‘No,’ Audra said.
‘Has he ever hit you?’
Audra felt herself shrink down into the pillow, withering under the sheets. ‘Sometimes. Not often.’
She felt Sister Hannah’s hand on her shoulder. ‘Audra, listen to me very carefully. You are not the first woman to go through this. God knows, you won’t be the last. I’ve seen all kinds of abuse. Believe me, beatings aren’t the only kind. Your husband is an enabler. He’s keeping you drunk and drugged, so you’ll be quiet and easier to manage. He doesn’t love you, but for whatever reason, he can’t let you leave. You have to understand, he’s holding you prisoner. The alcohol and the medication are what keep you tied down.’
‘What can I do?’ Audra asked. ‘How do I get out?’
‘Leave. Just go. When you’re discharged from this hospital, don’t go home. I can get you a place in a refuge where you’ll be safe. Patrick won’t be able to touch you there.’
‘But my children …’
‘You can’t help them until you help yourself. You need to get well, then you can worry about them.’
‘I want to sleep now,’ Audra said, and she burrowed down into the bed. She was gone before the nun left the room.
23
DANNY TOOK A bite of the club sandwich. Wasn’t bad. Pretty good bacon, turkey wasn’t too dry. He’d slipped the sliced tomatoes out from between the toasted bread and left them on the plate. Danny didn’t like tomatoes.
The waitress stopped at his booth by the window to freshen his coffee. Tasted pretty good too. But the service was slow. He guessed this place hadn’t seen so much business in years.
‘Thank you,’ he said. He dabbed at his mouth with a napkin. ‘Say, what’s going on around here?’
The waitress – her nametag said SHELLEY – laughed, then the smile dropped from her face. ‘You don’t know?’
Danny looked back out to the street, at the reporters wandering around like zombies looking for a scent of flesh. ‘Know what?’
‘Sorry, I just assumed …’ She waved a hand in front of his face. ‘I mean, you’re not from around here, so I assumed you were a reporter. Like them.’
Danny smiled and said, ‘No, I’m just passing through. Lady in a store out the road said you had good coffee. She was right. So what’s happening here?’
‘Oh my God,’ Shelley said, sliding into the seat opposite him, coffee pot in hand. ‘It’s terrible. I’ve never seen anything like it in my life. I mean, this little town, what’s left of it, biggest news is if someone farts in public.’
Danny snorted.
Shelley lowered her voice, hooked a thumb toward the counter. ‘Couple days ago, Sheriff Whiteside pulls this woman over.’