Authors: Janelle Harris
We walk around Macy’s until we both have blisters. Ava’s arms are laden with pretty cocktail dresses, expensive jeans, and tailored blouses. None of which is maternity wear. She insists they’re her inspiration outfits. She’s determined to fit back into her regular size after the baby is born. I didn’t think it will be any problem for her. If anything, her regular clothes will be too big for her. She’s lost a lot of weight since getting pregnant. Her violent morning sickness has her looking pale and gaunt, like a ghost. I’m sure the stress I’ve dragged her through isn’t helping either. And I try to curb my constant questions about whether she thinks Mark and Nicole will find us here. Although watching her shop like there is no more material left in the world, she looks deceptively at ease.
‘C’mon; you should get yourself something small, it’ll make you feel better,’ Ava suggests, picking up a hideous floral silk scarf and passing it to me for approval.
‘Yuck,’ I grumble and neatly tuck the scarf back on the shelf.
‘Oh, c’mon. Treat yourself.’
I shake my head. ‘I don’t want to use my credit card. Mark takes care of the bill and when the transaction shows up in the States, he’ll know where to find us. No manky scarf is worth the risk.’
‘You’ve been watching too much
CSI
.’ Ava snorts.
I glare at my best friend. I wish Ava would take this whole mess a little more seriously.
‘Use my card. I never got around to getting you a gift when Katie was born, so this can be my treat now. Look, there are loads of nice skirts over there,’ she says pointing in the direction of some stylish mannequins.
I’m really not in the mood to try anything on, but Ava has flung a small trolley load of clothes at me and dragged me giddily in the direction of the changing rooms.
I gaze lifelessly into the mirror. The satin pencil skirt and soft silk blouse are beautiful, but I don’t care much for the person underneath. I used to dress like this all the time before I had the kids, but now I look like an imposter playing dress-up. My mousy brown hair is dull and lifeless as it hangs clinging to the contours at the side of my face and stops just shy of my shoulders. The grey that sweeps over my ears is not as subtle as it was just a couple of months ago. The bags around my eyes are so prominent it looks as though the smoky eye effect has gone horribly wrong, and my whole frame is a lot pudgier than I ever remember. I hate this reflection. All my life, I’ve been meticulous about my appearance. I’m no supermodel, but I did stand out in the crowd. I still stand out in the crowd but now for the wrong reasons.
I twist my head around the changing room door. ‘Okay,’ I say catching Ava’s attention. ‘I’ll buy these.’
‘Just those two?’ she asks disappointedly.
I pull a face.
Ava twitches her nose and flicks her hand back and forth. ‘It’s a start,’ she chirps. ‘We can shop more tomorrow.’
I have to admire Ava’s positive attitude. Although it’s not quite contagious, it stops me from completely breaking down.
I enjoy the day in spite of myself. But dragging heavy bags around busy streets is exhausting, and I long for the comfort of my own bed in my own house.
‘We should get back,’ I suggest, completely out of breath and stopping to have a rest for the third time in less than ten steps forward.
‘No, this is too much fun.’
Ava is trying hard, but buying a few new bits and pieces does not make up for my life shredding at the seams. It’s not fun! I inhale so hard my nostrils burn.
‘Walking around smelly streets in minus a million degrees is not more fun than sipping champagne in the comfort of Nigel’s?’ I know exactly how to speak Ava’s language. ‘C’mon, please; I’m freezing and wrecked.’
Ava nods. If I’d known she’d agree that easily, then I would have pleaded my case ages ago.
I rummage in my bag for my phone, but before I have a chance to dial, it beeps at me. ‘Dammit.’ I snort. ‘I missed a call from Nigel.’
‘Okay, so call him back.’
I already have the phone to my ear, listening to a voicemail.
‘He’s had to go upstate for the evening,’ I explain. ‘Looks like he can’t meet us or pick us up after all.’
Ava looks offensively smug. I’m going to experience
real
New York living whether I want to or not.
I frown at the bags in my hand and sigh, taking in a deep breath and the smell of something greasy and delicious. I dash across the road to a dodgy vending stand and come back with two messy hot dogs and a can of Diet Coke.
‘Here,’ I say biting into the messy snack. ‘I’m starving, so you must be famished, too. You’ll get sick if you don’t eat something soon.’
‘Sure.’ Ava nods.
‘E. coli is part of the real New York experience too, don’t ya know?’ I giggle, munching into the surprisingly delicious snack.
We sit on the rusty bench eating in silence for a few moments. We’re too tired to waste any valuable energy on talking.
‘You okay?’ Ava asks when we both have our hunger under control.
‘Yeah, just that déjá vu thing again,’ I say.
‘Again?’
‘Yeah. I know. It’s weird. That’s like the fourth or fifth time today.’
I’ve had déjá vu so often since we arrived in New York that I’m beginning to feel strange when I don’t have it. The last bite of my hot dog brings with it my most vivid feeling yet.
‘Such and awesome game, wasn’t it?’ Ava says.
‘Yeah.’ I laugh, poking my ear with my finger. ‘I think I’m still a little deaf from all the screaming.’
‘Yeah, the crowd were crazy.’
‘I meant your screaming, actually.’ I knock my shoulder against Ava’s as we sit on the steps of Grand Central Station, eating pretzels and coming down from the buzz of the stadium.
‘Well, it’s not every day the Yankees kick the Cubs’ asses.’
A guy walking by bends down to shake the giant rubber hand I’m waving about, high on team spirit.
‘Goooo, Yankees,’ he chants.
~~~
‘Have I been here before, Ava?’ I ask, closing my eyes trying to hold on to the fading memory.
‘Where?’
‘America…New York…right here, this very spot.’ I open my eyes and find a street sign. ‘42
nd
Street. Have I been on 42
nd
Street before?’
‘I told you this place is great. It’s like a home away from home,’ Ava mumbles.
I agree. It felt a lot like I could belong here. I notice Ava hasn’t answered my question, but I think I already know what she would say.
We trundle our way tiredly from one subway station to the next. Ava can navigate the underground system like a pro. I, on the other hand, am clueless. If I lost Ava down here, then it would take me days to find my way back. We hop from one train to another and then another. I drag my bags up so many steps my shoulders pop from their sockets, and it drags me down an equal number on the opposite side of the tracks. Every time I cough, I feel like I’m losing a little piece of my lungs from the stench of carbon monoxide and minimal ventilation. It’s as warm as a sauna down here, and I can feel small beads of perspiration trickle down my spine and land unflatteringly just above the waistband of my jeans.
I can’t count on one hand the number of times I’m tempted to let the large steel doors of the train savage the bag and drag it far away from me.
Finally, we reach the last station. We’ve successfully survived the day without any major drama. My neck doesn’t even strain from the weight of carrying my pounding head. I smile to myself as I realise this is what it feels like not to have a headache. I’ve grown so used to the constant throbbing that when it’s absent, I almost feel like I could float.
I yank the bag up the final few steps leading above ground. The plastic nibbles mercilessly at the backs of my fingers as it pinches me. I string an impressive list of profanities together and mumble them coarsely under my short breath. I curse Ava for forcing me to buy crap. I curse Nigel for promising a lift and then pissing off. And I curse Mark. I curse him and I curse him and I curse him. I hate him for abandoning me when I needed him most. I hate him for not loving me the way I loved him. I hate him for getting me pregnant, letting me fall in love with being a mother, and then snatching that all away from me. But mostly, I curse myself because, in spite of every horrible thing, I still love him, and I don’t know how to change that.
I’m distracted out of self-pity by the scene I notice on the street corner. I call Ava to look. She stands beside me and drapes her arm around my neck and over my shoulder.
‘You were right,’ she says happily. ‘There is good in this miserable old world after all.’
We stand in silence as we watch the young homeless mother from earlier that morning. The woman and her son are sitting huddled together, leaning against a lamppost for support. Someone has given them a blanket, and the mother has a little colour in her cheeks that wasn’t there this morning. The little boy is contently gulping a carton of fresh milk and eating a cookie almost as big as his own head. His mother smiles and nibbles on the crumbs he drops. Ava is right; there truly is good in the world, and today, I played a part in creating it. I only wish I could do more.
My heart pounds against my chest as wildly as a starving tiger trying to escape from its cage. I can’t believe I’ve succeeded. I’m actually there. I have found them.
I park the car neatly behind some small bushes on the grass verge at the side of the little laneway. I can barely hear the engine purr over the sound of my own deep breathing. I had followed them halfway across the country. She didn’t notice me tailing her with just a couple of cars between us the whole way. There were times when I bravely snuck up directly behind her and I had to really fight with myself not to press my foot onto the accelerator and push her off the road. I wouldn’t, of course, because my children were in the back of her car. But my temper was so savage that the children were her only saving grace.
I sit alone in the darkness peering out over the steering wheel and try to view as much as I can between the gaps in the hedging. Nicole opens the rear door of her car and lifts a sleeping Katie out of her car seat. She looks like a beautiful, cuddly teddy bear in her big furry coat. Her little body tucks up into a neat ball and her tiny head rests on Nicole’s shoulder. Bobby hops happily out the door after them. He reaches his gloved hand up to hold Nicole’s and the three of them huddle together as they head into a beautiful house I have never seen before. They are the perfect little family. Only they’re not Nicole’s family, they’re mine. Nicole is a thief and she has stolen my most precious items…my children.
I duck quickly and cower in my seat as Mark’s car passes by. There’s only room for one car in the driveway and Nicole’s small hatchback already occupies the space. I realise I’m foolishly parked where a second family car would fit nicely. Mark has to settle for a space further down the street, but he walks back towards me. He’s obviously coming to investigate the car that was rude enough to hog his regular spot. Shit. Shit. Shit! A few more steps and he is certain to recognise my car. Thankfully, he’s suddenly distracted and dashes towards the house. Bobby has fallen on the front porch and is crying loudly. My hand grabs the door handle and I want to open it and race to pick him up and wipe away his tears. But I can’t reveal myself. They can’t know I’m here. Not yet.
Mark scoops Bobby into his arms, hugging him tight, and Bobby stops crying. Mark leans forward and kisses Nicole on the cheek. The picture perfect family all go inside and close the front door behind them. I swing the car door open and barely manage to twist my head out before I throw up.
I struggle to get my limbs to cooperate with me. My fingers shake as they fiddle with my seat belt. There is hardly enough strength in them to press it open. My jelly legs wobble awkwardly as I finally force them to lift me out of the car. I catch a quick glimpse of myself in the wing mirror. The khaki oversized trousers and Army camouflage coat are Adam’s Halloween costume that I’ve taken without asking. Wearing them may have been a bit extreme, but I have to be certain I’m not seen. If I’m going to steal my children back, then the mission has to be executed with military precision. I have to be invisible.
I crouch down and hide in the shadow of the car as I begin to crawl along by the outside of the hedge. The cold of the cement path stings my knees as I creep slowly forward.
‘Have you lost something?’ a voice from across the road shouts just as I reach the gateway.
I turn around to find an old man with his head leaning out of an upstairs window of the house opposite. I ignore him and hope he’ll soon lose interest.
‘Do you need some help, love?’ he asks.
I shake my head. He continues to shout at me, and I know if he doesn’t shut up, I’ll have to abandon my plan. Nicole and Mark are sure to hear him and come to investigate. The old man is messing everything up.
‘I’m fine. Piss off,’ I bellow.
He retreats as if my voice has just taken him out like a sniper. I breathe a sigh of relief. But it’s short-lived. The old man has probably gone to phone the cops and report a weirdo lurking in his neighbourhood. I’ll just have to hurry even more.
The front door opens unexpectedly, and I panic before dashing around to hide at the side of the house. I glance at my watch. By my calculation, Mark shouldn’t be leaving for his kickboxing class for another fifteen minutes. But I’d forgotten to factor in the extra distance to the gym from this new house.
‘Bye bye,’ Bobby’s sweet voice chirps from just inside the open door.
Mark waves as he walks away from the house.
Nicole swiftly appears behind Bobby. Ugh.
‘I won’t be late,’ Marked promises.
‘Take your time. Try to enjoy yourself, okay?’ Nicole says, smiling.
‘Thanks, Nicky,’ Mark beams. ‘What would I do without you?’
Now’s my chance. Nicole is alone with the kids. I will win. I will save the children. If I could just get my excessively fast beating heart to calm down a little, then I can have my family back.
It’s pitch dark and eerily quiet. But I continue to crawl along the edge of the grass all the way around to the back of the house. The back of the house overlooks a large golf course. No one plays at this time of night, I think gratefully. There is no one to see me here. If no one can see me, then no one can assist Nicole if she tries to stop me.
The light of the kitchen shines brightly and causes a foggy hue to illuminate a window-size square of the back garden dimly. I’m careful not to step into the light. The blind is up so I have a clear view of inside. Nicole is standing on the other side of the island preparing dinner. Bobby sits contently at the table colouring a picture. He occasionally hops down from his chair and brings his colouring book over to Nicole for her approval of his masterpiece in progress. She ignores him as she continues chopping carrots. I would never ignore him like that. I can’t see Katie, but I assume she’s sleeping in her bassinette in some quiet room. I watch for so long the grass stained wet patches on my knees begin to harden as they turned to ice. I can’t feel the tips of my fingers numbed by the cold wind, but I have a wonderful, warm feeling inside. I watch Bobby smile. I could stay at this moment forever. But I know if I follow through with my plan, then these moments will be a regular thing. The only difference will be me standing on the other side of the window and Nicole out in the cold.
I lay myself out flat on the freezing grass. The cold bites into my kidneys, but I ignore the ache. I stretched out, tucking my arms tightly against my sides and my legs press flat and together. I line the edge of my body up with the edge of the bright patch of the garden. I count backwards from five then roll in one fast, continuous motion until I’m on the other side of the brightness. I stand up and stay very still for a few moments. I felt like my heart is lodged in the back of my throat. My legs shake like a wrecking ball has hit me in the back of the knees as I wait, holding my breath. The back door doesn’t open. Nicole hasn’t seen me. I’m one unnoticed step closer.
I brush off the excess wet the damp grass has left on my clothes. I’m shivering wildly and I have to keep my mouth open a little to stop the noise my teeth make as they chatter. A distracting combination of nerves and cold shakes my bones. I do my best to ignore it and continue to creep towards the back door. I spend ages trying to open the door without letting it creak. The heat of the house is glorious, and I sigh as feeling attempts to return to my extremities. I’m still alone, but the intensity of the impending conflict is overwhelming. I take a moment to compose myself in the utility room.
The happy voices inside tease me. They laugh and joke, blissfully unaware of my secret presence. I burst through the door between the kitchen and utility room; my legs are walking me forward, but my head is roaring at me to turn back. Even my own mind knows I’ve lost all control of myself.
Nicole screams loudly as she turns ghostly white. Her shrill cry scares Bobby, who in turn bursts into tears. Katie, who had been playing contently on the floor mat in the adjacent sitting room, becomes hysterical. There’s so much noise. This was not part of the plan. I’m terrifying them, but it will all be worth it. It will all be worth it.
‘Jesus, Laura,’ Nicole shrieks. ‘You scared the life out of me.’
‘Sorry,’ I say. ‘I didn’t mean to frighten you.’
It’s partially true. I knew sneaking up on her like that would scare her, but my intention was only to get into the house. If I scared her in the process, then that was an unavoidable necessity.
‘What are you doing here?’ she asks barely able to string her words together.
‘I think that’s obvious,’ I snap.
Bobby jumps down from the table and races to Nicole. He buries his head in the material of her jeans and refuses to look at me. She doesn’t comfort him, but I suspect she refrains because she knows that it will make me jealous.
‘I thought you were in the hospital,’ Nicole says.
‘I was,’ I admit.
‘How did you get out?’
‘I was in the hospital, Nicole, not prison.’
I wasn’t in prison, but I wasn’t in the hospital of my own free will either. Doctor Hammond, the bastard, held me trapped in a psychiatric ward and then he refused to release me until I admitted I had a problem. I wouldn’t admit it. How could I admit to something I don’t have? And even all the drugs they pumped me with wouldn’t force me to say it either. I told the doctor every day that Mark and Nicole were setting me up, but he wouldn’t believe me. And I know a lot of money is exchanging hands; I’ve seen Mark write cheques with my own eyes. Doctor Hammond isn’t my doctor; he’s Mark’s lapdog and a goddamn prison guard.
‘You scared me half to death sneaking up on me like that,’ Nicole repeats herself. She’s still afraid, but her tone is laced with anger now. ‘Mark is in the shower. Do you want to wait for him?’
I glare at her. She lies so effortlessly. I hate her more for it.
‘No, he’s not,’ I shout. ‘I saw him leave.’
Nicole recoils in terror. And I can’t help the sadistic grin that curls my lips. Nicole is afraid of what I might do knowing that Mark isn’t there to protect her. I have the upper hand for the first time, and it feels so fucking good.
‘Well, he’ll be home any minute.’ She squirms.
‘No, he won’t,’ I yell. ‘It’s Wednesday; he goes to the gym every Wednesday.’
Bobby begins to cry again, and I immediately soften my tone.
‘It’s okay, sweetheart. Mammy isn’t cross with you,’ I assure him. I reach my hand out to hold his, but he jumps with a fright and steps away from me.
‘Laura, please. Stop this nonsense. You’re scaring me.’
I flick my eyes away from Bobby’s sweet face to growl at Nicole. It’s a message not to fuck with me. She steps back, and I know she’s taken the hint.
‘I’m cross with Nicole,’ I explain to Bobby. ‘She’s a very bold girl.’
‘She is a good girl,’ Bobby shouts. ‘I hate you, go away.’ He kicks me hard in the shin then runs away to hide in the sitting room.
Nicole is deathly pale and very still. She’s obviously afraid of how I will react to Bobby’s outburst. I’m so hurt by Bobby’s reaction, and I know it’s because Nicole has poisoned his innocent mind.
‘Please don’t hurt me,’ Nicole begs as she backs her way around to the opposite side of the island to me.
Nicole is fucking my husband and mothering my children. She has all but erased my identity and filled the void herself, driving me close to the brink of insanity, but the most she has ever hurt me was in those five simple words. She said them with such genuine concern. Does she truly believe I’m a monster? Or is she an expert in reverse psychology? I’m so confused.
The light of the oven door reflects off the shiny steel behind Nicole’s back to reveal a large chopping knife grasped tightly in her hand. I realise the dangerous situation in which I’ve put myself. I’m not the monster here. I’m an intruder in her home, and anything she does now is self-defence.
I reach for the only sharp object in view. I pull a meat cleaver out of the open drawer beside me. Nicole loses her battle to remain composed, and she begins to scream and cry.
‘You really are crazy,’ she cries.
I nod. At that moment, I feel it. I am crazy. Crazy with anger and resentment and bitterness.
‘If I am,’ I say, ‘then it’s all your fault.’
‘I know, and I’m so, so sorry,’ she says hanging her head shamefully. ‘Can you ever forgive me?’
‘No,’ I answer without having to think. ‘No, I can never forgive you. Not ever.’
My emotions change so often it’s a constant battle to know how I feel. Hating Nicole is the only constant. I could never let go of that familiarity.
‘Mark.’ Nicole smiles as she focuses on something behind me.
I turn around to face my husband. There’s an empty space. I feel a sharp pain in the back of my head and all lights and sounds are banished from my mind. I’m drifting out of consciousness, and I have no idea what Nicole has done to me. Perhaps I’m dying.