Night Road (26 page)

*

The next day, she and Miles and Zach set off for the airport.

It should have been a joyous occasion. Each of them tried to pretend. Miles made inane conversation and stupid jokes all the way to Sea-Tac.

On the airplane, they pretended not to notice the empty seat across from Miles. Before, they’d always sat two and two. Now they filled up a row themselves. The three of them.

At the college, they walked around in the hot California sunshine, remarking on the beauty and elegance of the campus.

Throughout the weekend, grief, always elastic, stretched out and snapped back, surprising them with its force at the oddest times. Seeing a blond girl in a black vest … seeing a girl in a pink sweater do a cartwheel on the grass, hearing Zach’s roommate ask about sisters or brothers …

But they made it through. On Sunday night, they had a last family dinner at Mastro’s Steakhouse in Beverly Hills and then took Zach back to his dorm room. There, Jude saw the decorations on Zach’s roommate’s side—posters and family pictures and a quilt made by the kid’s mom. It occurred to her then, too late, that she should have shopped for Zach, filled this room with everything he would need to succeed at school. The old Jude would have moved him in with boxes and boxes …

“We’ll miss you,” Jude said, trying not to cry.

“Call your mother,” Miles said gruffly. “Keep in touch.”

Zach nodded and hugged his dad. When he drew back and looked at Jude, she saw the uncertainty and shame in his eyes. “I’ll do well, Mom. You don’t have to worry about me.”

Jude pulled him into her arms and held him as tightly as she could. Her shame and guilt were almost unbearable. She wanted to tell him how much she loved him, but the words that had once come so easily were impossible to form now.

He held her for a long time, and then slowly they drew apart.

“Good-bye,” Zach said quietly.

It all came down to that one word. Good-bye. Once you said it out loud, it was real.

“Bye, Zach,” Jude said softly. She and Miles walked out of his dorm room, into the busy hallway. Behind them, his door quietly clicked shut.

Seventeen

That fall, time seemed alternately to fly forward and to crawl. With Zach gone, the house was as quiet as a tomb. Miles worked longer hours than ever. Jude knew he was afraid to come home to her. He hated how far she’d fallen into the gray.

But now it was November, Thanksgiving weekend, and Zach was home. She’d promised Miles, and herself, that she would make a real effort for her son. She
wanted
that. At least her mind wanted it, and she was determined for once to act like a mother.

And so she had come up here, to the attic above the garage. She stood in front of the red and green boxes that contained their Christmas decorations.

What had she been thinking?

How could she hang three stockings on the mantel? Or hold the Life-Savers-and-white-yarn ornament Mia had made in kindergarten? How?

She turned her back on all of it and headed for the door. By the time she got back into the house, her hands were shaking and she was cold.

She never should have told Miles she’d decorate, but the sadness in Zach’s eyes had filled her with guilt. She’d thought that decorating for Christmas might cheer him up. He’d been so depressed all week. He claimed that school was going well, that he had great grades—and even swore that med school was still his future, but he was so quiet that sometimes she forgot he was even home. He never answered his cell phone, and after a while it had stopped ringing.

She moved into the living room. Sunlight shone through the tall windows, gilding the wooden floors. Zach and Miles sat next to each other on the big, overstuffed sofa, both wielding controllers, while two ninjas kickboxed each other on the big flat-screen TV.

“You find the ornaments?” Miles said, without looking up.

“No.”

Miles sighed; lately he was always sighing. So was she, for that matter.

Their whole relationship seemed to be made of air, filled with nothing. She wanted to make him happy, but she couldn’t find any way to say what he needed to hear.

The doorbell rang, and she was relieved. She hated guests, but anything was better than this retread conversation about who she used to be. “Are we expecting anyone?”

“Hardly. People don’t drop by anymore,” Miles said.

“Maybe it’s Drew or Greg,” Jude said, steeling herself to see one of Zach’s friends.

She went to the door and opened it.

A stranger stood there, holding a manila envelope.

No. Not a stranger, but she couldn’t place his face. “Hello?”

“I’m Scot Jacobs. Alexa—Lexi—Baill’s defense attorney.”

“Come in, Mr. Jacobs,” Miles said, appearing beside Jude.

She felt herself being pushed aside. She heard the door shut. Feeling light-headed, she followed the men into the living room.

“I came to speak to Zachary,” the lawyer said, and, at his name, Zach put down the controller and stood. “I have these papers from Lexi. She asked me to deliver them to you personally. She thought you would be home this weekend.” He didn’t look at Jude—just Zach—and offered the envelope. “She’s pregnant,” he said quietly.

*

How long did she stand there, staring? She could feel the blood moving in her veins, pounding on the walls of her heart. A high-pitched scream filled her head.

No. She was
making
that sound. Was that really her? The anger she’d spent months suppressing came roaring back. Zach was talking, saying something, but Jude didn’t hear the words; she didn’t care anyway.

“Get out of this house,” she said suddenly. Yelled.

“I’m sorry…” Scot said.

“Sorry?
Sorry?
Your client kills my daughter, but that’s not enough for her, is it? She’s not done with us. Now she has to ruin my son’s life, too. How do we even know Zach is the father? How far along is she?”

“Mom!” Zach said sharply.

Miles looked shaken and pale, but the anger Jude felt was nowhere to be seen in his eyes. That pissed her off even more. She was always alone in her feelings lately, always wrong.

“She’s five and a half months pregnant,” Scot answered.

“How convenient. What is in the envelope? What does she want from Zach?”

“These are adoption papers, Mrs. Farraday, and I can tell you that Lexi did not come to this decision easily. If … Zach doesn’t want the baby, she’s prepared to undergo the adoption process alone. She’ll find a good family. She doesn’t want her baby to be in foster care.”

“If Zach doesn’t want the baby?” Jude said, incredulous. “He’s eighteen years old, for God’s sake. He can’t remember to wash his clothes.”

“She hated foster care,” Zach said quietly.

Scot nodded. “She doesn’t want that for her baby.”

Jude couldn’t make sense of all of this; there seemed to be some undercurrent pulling at her, swirling around her, but she couldn’t see a ripple. “Where’s a pen?” Jude said tightly.

“Judith,” Miles said, using his reasonable voice, the one that meant she was being a bitch or a shrew or whatever. She couldn’t care less. She was sick to death of his reasonableness. The pain in her heart was all consuming, unbearable. It took every scrap of control she possessed not to howl in agony. “This is our grandchild we’re talking about. We can’t be cavalier.”

“You think I’m being cavalier?” Jude stared at her husband, hating him as much as she’d ever hated anyone. “You think it’s not tearing me up inside? You think I haven’t dreamed of my first grandchild? But not like this, Miles. A child by the girl who killed our Mia? No, I won’t—”

“Stop,” Zach said loudly.

Jude had forgotten he was even there. “I’m sorry, Zach. I know this is terrible, tragic, but you need to listen to me.”

“When have I ever done anything
but
listen to you?” he said.

She heard the anger in his voice and stepped back from it. “W-what are you saying, Zach?”

“It’s my baby,” Zach said firmly. “Mine and Lexi’s. I can’t just turn my back on that. How can you want me to?”

Jude felt the floor beneath her open up, and suddenly she was falling. She saw his whole sad future in a flash: no college degree, no decent job, no falling in love with the right girl and starting fresh in life. At that, her last, desperate hope that he would someday climb out of this pit and learn to be happy again disappeared.

“I’ll be a dad,” Zach said. “I’ll quit school and come home.”

Jude couldn’t breathe. How could this be happening? “Zach,” she pleaded. “Think about your future—”

“It’s done, Mom,” he said. “Will you guys help me?”

“Of course we’ll help,” Miles said. “You can stay in school. We’ll find a way.”

Scot cleared his throat, and the three of them looked at him. “Lexi thought Zach would feel this way … or maybe she hoped. Anyway, she has also had me draft custody papers. She’s prepared to give Zach full custody. She’s asked for only two things from you. She doesn’t want her child to know that she’s in prison. Ever. She actually suggested that you tell the baby she … died.” He paused, looked at Zach. “And she wants to hand you the baby herself, Zach. Only to you. So you’ll need to be at the hospital when she gives birth.”

Jude turned sharply on her heels and walked away. In her bedroom, she took three—no, four—sleeping pills and crawled into bed. As she lay there, trembling, praying for the pills to work, she tried to think about a baby, this baby, her grandchild; she tried to picture a tiny version of Mia, with hair like corn silk and eyes like green marbles.

How could she look at a baby like that and ever feel anything but her own loss?

*

Lexi was in the prison cafeteria when the first labor pain hit. She grabbed Tamica’s wrist, squeezing hard.

“Oh my God,” Lexi said when it was over. “Is that what it’s going to be like?”

“Worse.” Tamica led her across the crowded cafeteria to one of the guards positioned by the door. “The kid’s going into labor.”

The guard nodded, radioed the news to someone else, and then told them to go back to their cell. “Someone will come for you, Baill.”

Lexi let herself be led down to her cell. There, she curled up on Tamica’s lower bunk and made it through the rising pain. Tamica stroked her hair and told her silly stories about her life. Lexi tried to listen and be polite, but the pains were sharper and coming faster now.

“I … can’t … take … it. How do women take it?”

“Baill?”

She heard her name through this fog of pain; when the cramp ended, she looked up groggily.

Miriam Yungoh, the prison doctor, was there. “I hear there’s a baby who wants to come out and play.”

“Drugs,” Lexi said. “Give me drugs.”

Dr. Yungoh smiled. “How about if I examine you first?”

“Yeah,” Lexi said. “Whatever.”

Lexi hardly paid attention to all the things that happened next. It was probably just as well. There was the pelvic exam that any prisoner walking past the cell could see, the strip search in receiving (to make sure that she wasn’t trying to sneak something out of the prison in her vagina—ha!), and the reshackling of her wrists and ankles.

She didn’t relax until she was lying in the gurney in the back of an ambulance, shackled to the bed’s metal rails. “Can Tamica come with me? Please? I want her at the hospital,” Lexi said between pains.

No one answered her, and when the next pain hit, she forgot everything else. By the time she got to the hospital, her pains were coming so fast it was like being in the ring with a prizefighter. She was in a private hospital room, with guards stationed both inside and outside the room. She wanted to roll over or walk or even just sit up, but she couldn’t do any of that. She was shackled to the guardrails of the bed on the left side. One ankle and one wrist. And they wouldn’t give her drugs because it was too late for that. Whatever the hell
that
meant.

Another pain hit. The worst one yet. She screamed out, her belly tightening so hard she thought she was going to die.

When the pain abated, she tried to sit up and then spoke to the guard. “Get a nurse or doctor in here, please. Something’s wrong. I can tell. It hurts too much. Please.” She was panting now, trying not to cry.

“My job isn’t—”

“Please,” Lexi begged. “Please.”

The guard looked at Lexi; her eyes narrowed. Lexi wondered what the woman saw: a murderer chained to a bed, or an eighteen-year-old girl, giving birth to a baby she’d probably never know.

“I’ll check,” the guard said and left the room.

Lexi fell back into the pillows. She tried to be strong, but she had never felt so alone. She needed Aunt Eva here, or Tamica, or Zach or Mia.

Another pain ripped through Lexi; she strained against the restraints, felt the cold metal bite into her wrist and ankle. Then it was over.

Sagging back into the pillows, she exhaled. Her whole body felt wrung out.

She touched her belly. She could feel her baby in there, wriggling, probably trying to find her way out of this pain. “It’s okay, little girl. We’ll be okay.”

She squeezed her eyes shut, trying to imagine the baby inside of her. For months now, as she’d lain in her lonely prison bed, she’d dreamed of this baby, and in her dreams it was always a girl.

When the pain came again, she cried out, certain this time that her stomach was going to split open like that scene in
Alien
. She was still screaming when the doctor came into the room, with a nurse beside him.

“Chained to the bed? Where are we, medieval France? Uncuff her. Now.”

“I’m sorry, Doctor, but I can’t do that,” the guard said. To her credit, she actually
looked
sorry.

“Hello, Lexi. I’m Dr. Farst,” he said, coming to her bedside.

“H-hi,” she said. “I think I’m dying. Do they ever rip you in half?”

He smiled. “It just feels that way. I’m going to examine you now.”

“Okay.”

He pushed her gown aside and positioned himself between her legs.

“Can you see her yet? Aagh—” Lexi arched up in pain again.

“Okay, Alexa, it looks like someone is ready to be born. When I say push, you bear down as hard as you can.”

Lexi was so tired, she could hardly move. “What does that mean, bear down?”

“Like you’re constipated and trying to go.”

“Oh.”

“Okay, Alexa. Push.”

Lexi strained and pushed and screamed. She lost track of how many times the doctor told her to stop and start and stop again. She hurt so badly she could hardly stand it, and she wished someone were beside her, telling her she was okay, that she was doing great. That was how it happened in the movies.

And then a baby cried. “It’s a girl,” the doctor said with a smile.

Lexi had never known before that a heart could take flight, but that was how she felt suddenly; the pain was gone—already forgotten—and angels were lifting her up. She saw the doctor hand the baby—her baby—to the nurse, and she couldn’t help reaching out to hold her. One arm lifted; the other clanged against the restraint.