“Come out,” the man says again. “Or I’m coming in.”
I try to open a window, but I can’t. My fingers scratch at the pane, and the lock is painted closed.
“Please,” I beg God. But no one answers.
I’m alone.
“I’m here,” the voice says in my ear, and a hand clasps over my mouth.
I wake with a start, sitting straight up in bed, my hands curled in the blanket.
I try to slow my breathing, try not to need Xanax.
It was a dream. A horrible dream.
It wasn’t real.
“Artie!” I call. I hear her nails clicking on the floor, and she comes to me. “Come up here, girl,” I tell her, patting the bed. She looks at me questioningly, because normally it isn’t allowed.
But I need comfort today.
I need to feel safe.
Obligingly, she hefts herself onto the bed and stretches out next to me. I bury my face into her fur, and before I know it, Artie’s warmth is lulling me to sleep.
I don’t know how long I nap, but I sleep heavily, until at some point, the doorbell wakes me.
Lucy waits on the porch, her hands full of bags.
I answer the door groggily, still half asleep.
“Hey, Luce,” I greet her. “What’s up?”
“You haven’t answered your phone, that’s what,” she says grumpily, stalking past me. “I’ve been trying to call you for days.”
“I’m sorry. I’ve been busy puking my guts up.” I close the door and then follow her. “Come on in. Make yourself at home.”
She gives me the side-eye.
“I finally asked Jude what was happening. He told me you were just sick and resting and asked me to bring you some lunch.”
“He loves me,” I tell her, my belly tingly with warmth.
“I know.” She hands me a disposable container. “Eat up. I’m going to do your nails when you’re finished.”
“I don’t really need my—”
But she interrupts. “Pish-posh. Pregnant women need to look good, too.”
I head to the kitchen and she follows. “Should I take the dog out?”
I glance at Artie. “Sure. She hasn’t been out in a while. Thank you.”
I sit in a chair and grab a spoon, digging into the soup, and Lucy lets Artie out onto the patio. I hear her nails clicking as she trots off.
“If you really want to be helpful,” I tell her, “you could do Artie’s nails.”
She rolls her eyes. “Um, no.”
I laugh and take a bite.
“Jude said he brought you dinner last night,” she mentions. “Did you eat?”
I shake my head. “No. We got...er...distracted. I told him about the baby.”
“You did?” Lucy grins. “And I assume he was...happy?”
I nod. “Ecstatic.” I take another bite, then another.
“You’re sickening,” she says. “You had it all, and now you get a baby, too.”
It’s weird, but her tone is a little off.
“Pardon me?” I ask, rolling my eyes. “I’ve worked myself into the ground for this. It wasn’t just handed to me.” I smile like I’m joking, but I’m kind of not. “Seriously.”
She nods. “Oh, yes. Little Corinne Friess. She had to work for everything, didn’t she?”
Her tone is acerbic now, and how did she know my maiden name?
The air between us has changed, somehow. I feel it. It’s tangible.
I swallow my bite and stare at her. “Luce? Is something wrong?”
Her eyes seem black as night, and somehow familiar, and when her mouth finally moves, it says the ugliest things.
“You’re a fucking cunt, just like my father said.”
She moves, lightning fast, and there’s a sharp pain in the back of my head.
43
Now Jude I’m frozen.
Because Michel.
He’s still.
He’s bloody.
He’s silent.
I know it’s him.
It’s him.
And my heart.
My heart.
Stutters and stops.
And I kneel next to my brother’s body and I pick up his hand, his hand that is so identical to my own, and his eyes are lifeless and his head is bloody.
I check.
I check I check I check.
My fingers at his neck.
And his blood is cold.
And my brother cannot cannot cannot be dead.
But he is.
He’s dead.
I’m numb.
I can’t feel.
I can’t think.
I can’t be without Michel.
We’re one half of a whole.
That’s how it’s always been.
He’s not breathing and he’s cold.
He’s cold.
He hates to be cold.
And then I’m yelling and everything is unfocused and blurry and fragmented, coming together and then pulling apart.
I sprawl on top of him, covering him up because he hates to be cold.
My brother is cold.
His blood covers me, and it’s cold, and he’s cold.
I dial 911 with a bloody hand, and I can’t understand what she’s saying because my brain is shutting down.
I hold my brother’s hand, and nothing matters anymore but this.
I lie down with my brother, and his blood soaks into my clothes, and together, we wait for the ambulance.
There will be no need for the sirens.
I close my eyes.
44
Halloween
Corinne
I’m dreaming again. Damn, but pregnancy gives a person vivid dreams.
Even though I know it’s a dream, it’s so amazing that I don’t want to wake up.
I’m in a nursery, and the morning sunlight is flooding the room, and it’s so bright, so airy, so cheerful. I’m rocking a swaddled baby dressed in pink and white, and her face is just as pink. She smiles up at me, and then she suckles, nursing from me, and I gave her life. She’s mine, and the warm feelings flood me as I rock her and sing, rock her and sing.
She grasps my skin with a tiny hand, and when her eyes open, I see that they’re the exact color of Jude’s. I smile into them and hold her close, and I’ve never felt so warm and good before in my life.
The warmth spreads from my belly into my chest, spreading through my body, into my fingers and toes, into my legs and arms.
I’m consumed with it.
And then I wake up from it, and when I do, I realize that it isn’t warmth, it’s pain.
It’s in the back of my head, in my belly, and spreads around to my spine.
I open my eyes. It’s four thirty, and I’m not alone.
Lucy waits, perched on the couch, and I’m sprawled on the floor.
How did I get in here from the kitchen?
“You’re heavier than you look,” Lucy points out, and the expression on her face is ugly.
“I... What is happening?”
I feel like I’m on my period, and I stagger to the bathroom. Yanking down my pants, I find drops of blood, red and bright. I feel sick instantly and reach for my phone.
My fingers come up empty.
The room spins.
“Looking for this?” Lucy has my phone in her hands. I reach for it. She laughs. “Uh, no.”
The room spins again.
I put a hand to my head. “What the hell is happening?”
“Don’t you know?” Lucy asks. “Can’t you tell? You are a doctor, after all. A big, important doctor. I’m just a little nurse.”
She’s derisive, and I’m confused. I see two of her, then they merge into one.
“You’re losing the baby,” she tells me. “Any idiot could see that.”
“What did you give me?” I ask, trying to stay calm. Blood is gushing down my legs.
“What do you think?” she spits. “Mifepristone and misoprostol.”
My stomach contracts. “The abortion pill.”
She smiles. “Now you’re getting it.”
I think about the soup. I didn’t finish it. I don’t know how much I imbibed. Maybe there’s still time.
I try to reach the door.
“But of course, that’s not all,” Lucy tells me, and her outline wavers in and out. “You didn’t think that was all, did you?”
I stare at her. Or try to stare at her. The dizziness is overwhelming. Lucy laughs.
“It’s a roofie, Corinne. Not all medicine is prescribed.”
I take a breath. “Why?”
“Because I need you compliant, you whore.”
I feel my uterus contract, pulling and pushing at itself, the muscles surrounding it contracting and contracting.
Dear Lord.
This can’t be happening.
I feel more warmth between my legs, and I squeeze my eyes closed, waiting waiting waiting.