Drenched in Light (14 page)

Patting her hand, I took another bite of food, because I knew it would make her happy. “We’ll muddle through.” That was Grandma Rice’s famous quote. Anything she didn’t like, she muddled through. “Tell you what: I’ll call Bethany in the morning, and we’ll take her out shopping. We’ll do the mall, look for bridesmaids’ dresses, go by the flower shop—all that stuff.” The idea settled in my mind, painted with a watercolor wash of dread. “We’ll get everything picked out in one day—like a marathon. We’ll tell her she can’t go home to Jason until we do the whole checklist.” Raking up another bite of rice, I stuffed it into my mouth, even though it tasted old and I didn’t feel like eating anything else. “Gosh, I’m starving. This is good Chinese.”

Mom was pleased. Resting her chin on her hand, she smiled and said, “I told Bethany and Dad you’d need something by the time you got home. No sense going hungry.”

The comment pinched, because, unless she could monitor my eating, she was convinced that I was starving myself. I pretended to concentrate on finishing the rice. Nice to know everyone was talking about me while they were supposed to be planning Bethany’s wedding.”

Drumming her fingers on her chin, Mom toyed with the corner of a napkin. “So, where was it that you went this afternoon? Dad said you were working late at school? You had a barbecue there?”

My chest convulsed in an involuntary chuckle, and I snorted up rice, then coughed and grabbed a glass of water. A barbecue at school? Sometimes, I had a feeling Mom heard only half of what we said; then she filled in the blanks like pieces of a crossword puzzle. “I went by an after-school arts program at an elementary school near Harrington. One of the students I’ve been counseling invited me. It was nice—I ended up having a really good time. This Jumpkids program is something special, amazing really. They serve some of the most underprivileged children in the city, and they do fantastic things with them. The kids are grateful for the opportunity—not like the students at Harrington, who take it for granted that everything is going to be handed to them. It’s . . .”

I stopped talking, and Mom never even noticed. She was glassed-over. “That’s nice,” she said, when she realized the conversational ball was back in her court. “Do you think it’s safe to be hanging around that part of town at night?”

“It’s fine,” I muttered.

“Maybe we should do silk flowers . . .” Mom mused, squinting at a basket of fake roses on the cornice above the kitchen cabinets.

Joujou scratched at the patio door, and Mom didn’t react. I glanced over, surprised. Joujou was out in the backyard
alone
. At risk of kidnapping and attack by giant rodents. What was going on?

“Joujou’s outside.” I waved my hand in front of Mom’s face. “Joujou’s outside.”

Jerking upright, Mom came back to earth. Slowly rolling her attention to the sliding glass door, she walked over to let Joujou in. “Oh, I know. She’s fine out there. This morning, she kept scratching at the door, and I was busy trying to book the country club for Bethany and Jason, so I just let her go out.”

“This morning?” I gaped toward the door. Even though sun had come out in the afternoon, I couldn’t believe Mom had left her baby on the patio so long—especially now that it was dark, and getting nippy again. “She’s been out there all day?”

Mom lifted her hands helplessly. “I had so much to do. This way, she’s not underfoot. She has water, food, and her house out there. The sunshine is good for her.”

Wonders never cease.
Mom had finally lightened up on Joujou. Maybe there was hope for the rest of us. Slipping the remaining rice into the trash while Mom was busy asking the dog about her day, I broke my fortune cookie in half and unrolled the paper slip, first looking at the Chinese characters in red ink, then turning it over so I could read the English side.

I
n the morning, Mom was at my bedroom door with Bett on the phone and breakfast ready downstairs. I blinked at the ceiling, waiting for the day to come into focus. Ever since my stay at St. Francis, my dreams were sensory and tactile, more vivid than real life.

I always dreamed of dancing—in various locations, but always, I was dancing. This time, I was in the gym at Simmons-Haley Elementary School. The floor was marked with lines for basketball, but around me, the bleachers became rows and rows of theater seats, stretching toward elaborate balconies of intricate fresco and gold leaf. Sister Margaret was in a box seat, clapping and cheering, giving me a standing ovation. From somewhere overhead, in tune with the music, kids were reading aloud the lines from the “In My World” wall.

As they read, the drawings floated down from overhead, and I danced in the bright Crayola world. . . .

“Pumpkin, time to get up.” Mom pulled me back as I was drifting into the dream again. “Breakfast is ready. I’ve got Bett on the phone.”

“Just . . . just a minute,” I mumbled as the door squeaked open and Joujou rocketed through, launching herself onto my bed.

“Heeeeere’s Joujou,” Mom announced, like the dog was Johnny Carson and she was Ed McMahon. Joujou started sprinkling while racing around on my bed.

“Joujou!” Scooping up the dog, I rolled off the mattress and rushed to the bathroom. Joujou yipped happily and wagged her tail as I deposited her in the bathtub, then grabbed a towel and hurried back to wipe the droplets off the comforter.

“I think Joujou needs to go outside,” I said.

Mom gasped at the comforter, as though it were a surprise for Joujou to make tinkie where she wasn’t supposed to. “Oh, my.” Handing me the phone, she headed toward the bathroom to have a discussion with the dog, dismissing the comforter with a backhanded wave. “I’ll wash that later. You go ahead and talk to Bett. You two can plan our agenda for the day.”

Bett was laughing on the other end of the phone. “What’s going on over there?”

“Joujou watered my bed.”

Bett laughed harder, and I laughed with her. It was good to hear her sounding like her usual upbeat self. “Hey, at least she missed you this time.”

“Good point. I think I’m growing on her.”

“So-o-o . . .” Bett drew the word out contemplatively. “Mom said you wanted to talk about shopping today.”

Squinting toward the bathroom door, I cupped a hand over my mouth and the phone receiver. “Actually, I wasn’t even up yet.”

“Me, either,” Bett admitted. “Jason usually brings me a protein shake in bed, so I can settle my stomach before I start walking around. Morning sickness.”

It hit me that Bett really was pregnant. Expecting. In a family way. My little sister. There was a tiny person growing inside her. My niece or nephew. My parents’ first grandchild. A new little someone to be added to our family. Planned or unplanned, it was a miracle.

Smoothing a hand over my own stomach, sallow and thin beneath my nightgown, I wondered if my body would ever be capable of producing life. Had I sacrificed that potential with the years of bingeing, and purging, and starving my body until the normal female cycles were off schedule, and sometimes nonexistent? The doctors said there was no way to tell.
“The body is an amazing machine,”
Dr. Leland had told me,
“With an incredible capacity to heal itself. But esophageal rupture is extremely serious, as is the depletion of electrolytes in your system. Either can be fatal and can have lasting health implications. Give your body time to recover and regain its balance; then we’ll see what we’re dealing with.”

At the time, I didn’t want to hear what he was saying. All I cared about was finding a way to explain my absence to the artistic director, so I could regain my spot in
Swan Lake
.

Now, thinking about Bett’s baby, I felt the intense burn of guilt and a hollowness over what might never be. “I can’t believe you’re having morning sickness already.”

Bett sighed, completely unaware of the rush of thoughts in my head. “I know. Mom says she had it right away, too. Especially with you.”

“I always was trouble,” I joked, but it came out sounding like a whine, and I changed the subject. “So, listen—what about this shopping trip?”

Bett groaned.

I glanced toward the bathroom, where Joujou was apparently playing tug-of-war with the shower curtain while my mother tried to catch her. Leaning away from the door, I whispered into the phone, “If we don’t get busy on this wedding business, Mom is going to have a nervous breakdown.”

Bett moaned again. “I just don’t feel like it. I think I’m still in shock over everything.”

“Come on; we’ll make it a girl day. We haven’t done that since . . .”
Since before I went to the hospital.
“In a long time, anyway. We’ll make it fun. I’ll hold your hand all the way.”

“Mom’s driving me crazy,” Bett ground out. “I know she’s got a lot on her mind, and she’s just trying to help, but she won’t let up. She has to be in control of everything. I’m hormonal, I know I am, but I’ll end up saying something I shouldn’t and hurting her feelings.”

“Then I’ll hold your mouth.” The joke won a rueful laugh from Bett.

“Promise?”

“Yeah, I prom—” Something smashed against the tile in the bathroom and shattered. Bolting upright, I ran to the door in time to see Mom trap Joujou behind the toilet and try to pry her mouth open.

“Mom, what . . . What’s going on?”

Her face was ashen. “What were those pills you had on the counter?”

“Pills?” I muttered. “Wha . . .”

“Julia?” Bett said on the phone.

“Just a minute, Bett.” I held the receiver against my chest as Mom stood up, cradling Joujou, who shook her head and sneezed, then smiled with her overbite.

“What were those pills on the counter?” Pulling drawers open frantically, Mom raked through the contents. “Those pills, Julia. The two pills in the dish right there. I set Joujou on the counter, and she ate them. What were they?”

“An antidepressant and an aspirin.” Popping open the medicine cabinet, I handed her the bottles before I thought about the fact that the antidepressant container was practically full, and it wasn’t supposed to be.

Frustrated, panicked, Mom held it up, shaking it at me, momentarily forgetting about Joujou. “Julia Ann, why is this bottle full? You are supposed to be taking these twice daily.”

I refilled it. That’s a new bottle,
almost rolled off my tongue. In the old days, that would have been my first reaction-deny, defend, divert, evade. Anything to keep the facts from coming out. Which only created bigger problems later on, so this time I admitted the truth with a resigned sigh. “I don’t like the way they make me feel. I’m so mellow on that stuff, I can’t function, and I don’t get anything done at work.”

“Pppfff. Work,” Mom spat, with a disgusted sneer that outlined the network of wrinkles around her eyes. “That job isn’t worth risking your health, and certainly not worth skipping your prescriptions.”

I pressed the phone harder against my chest, hoping Bethany couldn’t hear. “I don’t need pills, Mom. I’m fine. I can handle it.”

You can’t handle it,
her face said.
If I don’t handle everything for you, things will fall apart.
“If the medication wasn’t working for you, you should have told us. We can ask Dr. Leland to prescribe something else.”

“I don’t need anything else.” The words shot out in a commanding tone that surprised even me. “I’m fine. I’m sorry I left the pills lying around and Joujou got into them, but I don’t think it’ll hurt her. I’ve heard they use aspirin and antidepressants for dogs, but Joujou’s not very big, so it might be best to call the vet. I’ll call, if you want.”

Mom glanced from the prescription bottle to the dog and back. With a sigh, Joujou rolled her eyes upward and blinked contentedly. Tucking the bottle in her pocket, Mom squeezed past me her face turned away. I could tell she was hurt. “I’d better take her in. You and Bett go shopping.”

“Mom . . .”

Without waiting for an answer, she rushed out the door and down the stairs.

I put the phone to my ear again. “Well, I hurt her feelings. Joujou ate one of my antidepressants, and Mom found out I haven’t been taking them. Now she’s upset. She’s taking Joujou to the vet and she wants us to go on with the shopping trip.”

“That’s probably best,” Bett said gingerly. “We all need some time to decompress, especially Mom. All of us going wedding shopping together would probably cause a total Costell family meltdown. Why don’t you take your time with breakfast and whatever, then come get me when you’re ready?”