‘You did? I don’t remember.’
‘I’ve seen it before.’ Jacinta looked down at her coffee. ‘My father was an alcoholic. He had it worse than you when he tried to quit. Hallucinations. He said the devil came to him. Chickens were running around the floor, and the devil grabbed them and snapped their necks. If bad dreams is all you have, then it’s not so bad. It’s been a week since the overdose. You should be over the worst of it now.’
‘At the hospital, they said you found me. You saved my life.’
Jacinta shrugged. ‘I just called for the ambulance.’
‘Even so, thank you.’
‘You should eat something.’
Audra shook her head. ‘I’m not hungry.’
‘You should eat anyway. You’ll feel better. Even just the candy bar.’
Audra reached for it, a Milky Way, and peeled back the wrapping. Chocolate and caramel mixed on her tongue, and dear Lord, it was good. The rest of the bar was gone in less than a minute.
Jacinta smiled and said, ‘Told you.’
Audra took a sip of the coffee, rich and warm, felt it in her throat and stomach, heating her from the inside. Jacinta indicated the bottle of pills on the nightstand, half empty.
‘Are you taking those again?’ she asked.
‘My husband got them for me,’ Audra said, avoiding the question.
‘I don’t think you should.’ Jacinta dropped her gaze. ‘If you don’t mind me saying.’
An empty wine bottle stood next to the pills and a glass with a mouthful left at the bottom. Jacinta looked from one to the other, her expression clouded.
‘What?’ Audra asked.
‘There was a phone call yesterday,’ Jacinta said. ‘You were asleep. Mr Kinney was at work. It was a lady from the hospital.’
‘Sister Hannah,’ Audra said.
‘That’s right.’
‘What did she say?’
‘She asked how you were doing. If you were taking any pills. Drinking anything.’
‘And what did you tell her?’
‘I said I wouldn’t know anything about that.’
‘I haven’t,’ Audra said.
‘Haven’t what?’
‘I haven’t taken any pills. I haven’t been drinking.’
Jacinta pointed to the items on the nightstand. ‘But …’
‘Down the toilet,’ Audra said. ‘Don’t tell Mr Kinney.’
Jacinta smiled and said, ‘I won’t. And I’m glad. He shouldn’t give you those things.’
‘He’s an enabler,’ Audra said. ‘An abuser. He uses them to control me. But not anymore.’
‘Can I tell you something?’ Jacinta said.
Audra nodded. Her stomach growled, and she took a slice of toast from the tray, savored the salted butter on her tongue.
‘I don’t like Mr Kinney. I would have left this job a long time ago, except that I love your children. I really do. With you the way you were, and Mr Kinney never being around, I couldn’t go. They’d have no one if I left.’
Audra swallowed the toast. ‘Thank you. I’m not going to be like that anymore.’
‘Good,’ Jacinta said. Her face brightened. ‘Louise is going to wake up from her nap soon. Do you want to go get her with me?’
‘I’d like that,’ Audra said.
‘In fact I’ve got to collect Sean from school in about thirty minutes. Usually I’d take Louise with me, but maybe she could stay here with you?’
‘Okay,’ Audra said.
So Audra sat on the living-room floor, wearing her dressing gown, playing with a little girl she barely knew. Louise had protested a little when it was Audra who lifted her from bed instead of Jacinta, but she soon came round. Now she lifted toys from a large basket in the corner, one at a time, and brought them to her mother, told her their names. Showed her how to play with them.
Gogo was her favorite, mostly intact then, still with both his eyes.
Louise was sitting in Audra’s lap, a storybook open in front of them, when the living-room door opened forty-five minutes later. Sean stood in the doorway, schoolbag in his hand, staring at her, his eyes cold and wary.
‘Hey,’ Audra said.
Jacinta nudged his shoulder. ‘Go say hello to your mother.’
Sean entered the room, put his bag on the floor next to the toy basket. He pulled his coat off, dropped it beside the bag.
‘Sean,’ Jacinta said from the doorway. ‘We don’t leave our things on the floor. Do we?’
‘No,’ Sean said.
‘Okay. Just this once, bring them to me and I’ll put them away properly.’
Sean gathered the bag and coat and took them to her. Jacinta closed the door, leaving him staring at the wood floor. A few moments passed before he turned to stare at Audra once more.
‘Good day at school?’ Audra asked.
Sean shrugged and kept staring.
‘You want to come sit next to me and hear a story?’
‘Those are baby stories,’ he said.
‘What kind of stories do you like?’
‘Comic books,’ he said. ‘Superheroes.’
‘You want to show me some?’
Sean went to the sideboard, opened a door, and pulled out a plastic box. From that he took out a half dozen comic books and spread them out on the floor. ‘X-Men,’ he said, pointing. ‘That’s Wolverine, and that’s Professor X. And these two are Star Wars, they do comic books as well as movies. And this one, this one’s my favorite.’
‘Spider-Man,’ Audra said.
‘You know about him?’
‘Sure I do. I used to read those comic books when I was a little girl. I stole them off my brother. He got mad when he couldn’t find them, but he never knew they were under my bed.’
Sean smiled, and they stayed there on the living-room floor for three hours. Then Jacinta came back and said Patrick would be home soon. Audra kissed her children and went back to bed.
Things went on that way for six months. Patrick brought bottle after bottle of alcohol, bottle after bottle of pills, and every day Audra would flush them away. Before dinner, she would rinse her mouth with vodka or wine, just enough to get the smell on her. Every evening the cook served them dinner, and they ate in silence. Somehow Sean sensed it would be best not to mention their play sessions to his father, and it simply never came up with Louise.
Until one night in September.
That night, Louise – now four and a half – asked, ‘Can we have ice cream?’
Patrick didn’t look up from whatever article he was reading on his phone, his shirtsleeves rolled up, his tie loosened. ‘No,’ he said. ‘No ice cream on week nights. You can have some fruit.’
Louise looked to the other end of the table. ‘Mommy, can we have ice cream?’
Audra went to answer too quickly, her tongue too sharp. She corrected herself, blinked, let her eyelids droop. ‘Ask your father,’ she said.
Too late. Patrick had noticed. He didn’t take his eyes off her as he said to Louise, ‘You don’t need to ask your mother. You already asked me, and I said no.’
Audra reached for the glass of wine on the table, brought it to her mouth, let it clink on her teeth, before taking a small mouthful. She put it down too hard, let it slop over the rim.
‘Listen to your father,’ she said, softening the sibilants.
‘Are you all right, dear?’ Patrick asked.
‘Never better,’ Audra said, forcing a sneer into her words. ‘I’m going to bed.’
She stood and left the table without looking back. In bed, the sheets pulled up to her chin, she listened to the voices of her children as Jacinta helped them brush their teeth, read them their stories. All quiet for a time, and Audra might have slept, she couldn’t be sure, but the next thing she was aware of was Patrick standing by the nightstand. She could feel him staring at her back.
Audra listened as he lifted the bottle, the remains of the vodka sloshing in it. Then the bottle of antidepressants, a rattle as he examined it and its contents. And then quiet as he stood there, watching. Audra kept her breathing steady and deep, waiting for him to go.
Eventually he said, ‘I know you’re awake.’
Audra remained still, breathing in and out, in and out.