I went around the room snapping off lamps I had only just turned on, pulling the drapes shut. Once the room was dark, I went to her and kissed her forehead too, keeping my distance from Penny. My mother’s skin did not feel feverish or sweaty as I expected, but perfectly cool and dry, too. Whispering, I told her, “Good night, Mom.”
“Good night, my sweetheart. Thank you for being such a good daughter.”
Her words made me think of the lie I’d told earlier about that waitress not touching Penny. I thought suddenly of Dot too, the way I’d helped Rose in order to protect my essay from being destroyed. “I’m not always good.”
“Sure you are,” she said in a weak voice. “You never disappoint us, Sylvie. Now go on and get up to bed.”
My father and I climbed the stairs, giving each other a quick hug before heading to our rooms. I flopped on my mattress and fell immediately asleep. Only an hour or two passed before so much morning sunlight spilled in the window that it nudged me awake. In my drowsy state, I lay staring at the shelf above my desk. I’d been too young to remember my uncle giving Rose and me those horses. But my father said Howie frequented a racetrack near his apartment in Tampa. A big win did not come often, but when it did, he liked to buy a few from the collectors’ shop there. Since he didn’t trust himself not to pawn them the next time he found himself hurting for cash, he gave the horses to us. My father disapproved of his brother’s gambling but loved those horses anyway, and especially when he saw how much I loved them too.
But something was different the morning after our return from Ohio.
I got out of bed, crossed the room, pulled out my desk chair, and stepped up on it.
When I saw what had been done to Sabrina—the spotless white pony with glassy blue eyes and a tail made from genuine horsehair, the one Rose had remembered—my lips parted but no words came. I reached for the black pony with rippling muscles and green eyes. Esmeralda—Rose had remembered that one too. I held them both by their bellies, staring down at their limbs, which had been snapped off. Their legs, carved carefully to showcase their knobby knees and broad hooves, littered the carpet below. I climbed down off the chair. One by one, I began picking up the pieces, growing more angry, more bewildered with each that I found.
My sister was the most obvious culprit. But difficult as Rose could be, it was hard to imagine her sneaking into my room and doing something so unprovoked. Even less likely was my father. Besides, he was sleeping down the hall and had no reason. Listening, I could hear the faint rise and fall of his snores. As for my mother, she must have been downstairs on the sofa still, right where we left her, drained of even the small bit of energy required to climb the stairs. That’s when I thought of that doll. Cradled in my mother’s arms. Smiling her placid smile. Her blank black eyes soaking in our home, a place she had traveled so far to be, bringing nothing more than the fingerprints around her neck, a dainty bracelet twisted tight around her wrist.
Chapter 15
Birds
People scattered along the winding path in the woods, hands frozen in the air. Heekin instructed me to whisper while we passed, to walk softly so as not to disturb them. When we reached an open space by a pile of twisted branches, he came to a stop. As he knelt to unzip his duffel, I looked down at the wiry gray strands weeding up among his black hair. His thin fingers were wide and flat at the tips, as though somebody had taken a mallet to them. I watched as he pulled out a small plastic baggie and handed it to me.
“What exactly do I do with this?”
“Same as the others are doing. Pour some in your hands, then hold them out.”
I did as he said, dumping seeds into my cupped palms. He poured a little in his hands too, before tucking the baggie back in his duffel. “Remember,” he said, looking at me with his rubbery face and narrow eyes. “You’ve got to keep absolutely still and silent.”
He lifted his arms and so did I. Even though I was wearing a sweater and coat I had pulled from my closet the night before last, when he had first called, a chill worked its way down my back. “And my mother did this too?”
“Yes. Just like I told you.”
“When did you two come here?”
“A number of times. The first was after the interview she granted me while I was writing the book. I had the idea to bring her here when she spoke about the heartbreak she felt after the loss of her father and the smaller tragedy of those birds, which always haunted her. I’m guessing she shared those details of her life with you?”
Embarrassed as I was to admit it, I told him she had not. “I read that part of your book, though, so I know.”
“That part?” Heekin said. “I would have assumed you’d read the whole thing.”
I told him I’d held off on the final section out of respect for them. “They didn’t want Rose and me to read any of it. They weren’t happy with what you had to say.”
Something changed in Heekin’s eyes then, a kind of clouding over. He let out a breath and said, “I feel bad about that and always will. It’s the reason I wrote your mother asking if she’d see me.”