The Unfinished Child (29 page)

Elizabeth reached across the table and squeezed her friend’s hand mutely. She searched for some consoling words. “I don’t know what to tell you,” she finally said.

Marie put her head in her hands and sat quietly for a moment. “You know, I’ve handled everything that’s come my way so far, and I’ve managed to do okay, give or take gaining twenty pounds.” She laughed weakly. “Mostly that’s because I haven’t known what’s coming. Can you imagine if you woke up each day knowing exactly what would happen to you? At five o’clock I’ll be in a car accident. After lunch I’m going to fall outside the school and break my ankle. Or worse, Nicole will be hit by a car; Sophia will pour boiling water on herself in the kitchen. Barry will have a major heart attack and be found slumped over his desk.”

Elizabeth imagined her own scenario. Lying on an examination table, her feet in the stirrups.
The implanted eggs will not take.

“But I just bumble along, you know?” Marie continued. “I handle things when they happen. But not this time. I got scared and I wanted to know. I wanted to know that my child would be healthy before I’d even met it. The tests are there, and it’s so hard not to have them. I know this is going to sound like I’m romanticizing the past, but I envy our mothers that they didn’t have to decide whether to know or not. They just got pregnant and then waited to see what they got. They didn’t know if they were having a boy or girl. All they knew was they were having a baby. And if it had something wrong with it, they dealt with it. There was no deciding if the baby was good enough or not. They waited nine months and kept their fingers crossed.” She stopped to catch her breath. “But now I’m wondering if we’re wired to know in advance. I don’t think we are. Can you imagine asking someone in advance if they’re ready to welcome a disabled child into their lives? They’d probably all say the same thing: I couldn’t do it, I’m not strong enough. But you rise to the occasion. We all do. We do what we have to do when we have to do it. We show up. There’s something good about showing up, isn’t there?”

The question hung unanswered in the air. After a minute, Elizabeth reached across the table and gave Marie’s hand a squeeze. “So now what?”

“So now Barry and I have this awful decision to make.” Her voice broke. She shredded the tissue in her hand and squeezed her eyes shut. “I feel like we’re damned if we do and damned if we don’t,” she whispered. “And I don’t know what we’ll tell the girls. They’re so excited about having a baby around again. Nicole was really hoping for a baby brother. Oh, and that’s another thing. We found out that the baby’s a girl. I didn’t want to know, but Barry asked.”

The door to the coffee shop banged open, assisted by the wind, and a large group of office workers scurried inside. Soon, the sound of milk being steamed filled the shop.

Elizabeth leaned closer to be heard over the noise. “Do you have to decide right away? You only found out yesterday. Maybe if you sleep on it a while you’ll have a better idea what to do.”

Marie shook her head. “The doctor said we don’t have much time. I’m already well into my fourth month. The sooner we make the decision the better.” She wiped her nose and folded what was left of the tissue into a ball. “I feel like such an idiot. I mean,
lots
of women think something might be wrong with their baby, but not all of them have a damaged child. The doctor told me what the process would be, but it was like I was numb because I wasn’t prepared at all for having to make this decision.” She took a deep breath to compose herself. When she spoke again, the panic had left her voice. “I think if I’d never had kids it would be an easier decision.”

Elizabeth nodded automatically. But did Marie mean that a childless person would have an easier time aborting a baby? That was ridiculous. And insulting. She wanted to correct Marie’s misconception. She wanted to tell her about the time she had seen the mouse caught in a trap on the landing of her basement steps, its head twisted to one side by the gold bar that pinned its neck, its long tail stretched out like the root from a garden vegetable. She wanted to tell Marie how she had recoiled immediately, and then, despite her disgust, how she’d turned to look at it again, the soft grey underbelly.

And then it had moved.

The entire belly had heaved. The fur rippled and bulged. Then it was quiet again. She wanted to tell Marie how she had raced upstairs and closed the door, sick to her stomach for having killed a mother mouse with its babies still alive inside her!

Marie continued. “It gets worse. The baby’s kicking all the time now, and I just want it to stop. We had to wait three weeks to get the test back, and during that time, whenever the baby kicked, I pretended it wasn’t happening. I didn’t want to bond with it, just in case. And now . . .” Her face scrunched up as she cried. “It’s like I’m in this rage. I don’t want it inside me anymore, but I don’t have any control over it. Every time it moves I think how it hasn’t asked for permission. Why can’t it just die on its own, without me having anything to do with it? Then I wouldn’t have to feel so guilty.”

Marie looked stunned by her outburst. She glanced around the café, but nobody was staring. “I’ll miss it too, you know,” she added in a whimper.

The coffee grinder started up and drowned the sound of voices.

“What does Barry think of all this?” Elizabeth asked.

Marie moved to the edge of the loveseat. “Barry doesn’t want the baby.” She wiped at her tears. “And I really don’t know . . .” She faltered. “I feel so selfish, like we’re not willing to love this baby because it’s not perfect. But who is perfect? We’re going to talk again tonight, but unless he’s had a drastic change of heart . . .”

“You make it sound like it’s all Barry’s decision,” Elizabeth said. “Are
you
sure about this? What do
you
want?”

“That’s just it, I honestly don’t know what I want. And I don’t feel like I have the time to figure that out. But I certainly don’t want to lose my family.”

Elizabeth put her hand gently on Marie’s knee. “What makes you think you’d lose your family?”

Marie stared at the ceiling to keep more tears from falling. “It’s got to be an awful strain on a marriage. Do you know how many marriages don’t survive? What if Barry and I didn’t make it? What would that do to the girls?”

“There’s no guarantee that you’ll make it anyway,” Elizabeth said. “Ron and I almost didn’t make it. We came close there. Isn’t it more important to
agree
on the decision? Because if you do something that you don’t believe in, for Barry’s sake, how will you live together then?”

They sat silently for a moment. Elizabeth was the first to speak again. “It seems so black and white,” she said. “Have the baby or terminate the pregnancy. Are you sure there aren’t any other options?”

“None that make any sense,” Marie said, steadying her hands on her knees.

“What about adoption?” Elizabeth asked. “I was adopted, and things worked out well.”

“Yeah, but there wasn’t anything wrong with you. Healthy babies always get adopted. I can’t imagine waiting to find out if someone had adopted my baby yet. Plus, I couldn’t very well explain that to the girls, could I?”

Elizabeth leaned back into the loveseat and sipped her coffee. She wasn’t one to talk about adoption because she’d never wanted to adopt either. But Elizabeth couldn’t compare her situation to Marie’s because Marie had already had two children, which was something Elizabeth had never been able to manage. She tried to imagine what she would do in Marie’s position but couldn’t. There had been too many years of wanting a baby. Would I parent a child with Down syndrome if I knew in advance and had the choice not to? Would I take a child that I conceived, no matter what its condition?

Would I?

In the damp air of the coffee shop the question settled like mist over her skin, filtered into her blood cells, into her organs.

Would I?

She closed her eyes for a moment and felt the fire’s heat. The sounds of the café gradually diminished. She felt herself drawn toward the heat of the fire, as if she were being gently guided. She was cradled in warmth. And in that solitary moment she felt a monstrous weight lifted from her. Her back straightened, her shoulders squared, her torso lengthened. She was light as a feather, her bones hollowed like a bird’s. A sweet calm nested in her stomach, and tears spilled down her cheeks.

The heat coursed through her like an electric current. She opened her eyes and scanned the shop. The edges of the table looked sharper. The windows overlooking the street looked cleaner. The voices of the customers were more full of life.

Then she looked at Marie. Her head was bent down, and her dark hair spilled over her shoulders. Marie. She felt the hot breeze on her cheek, and the air felt humid like the summer afternoons they’d spent at the creek. She saw woven dandelion crowns. Tasted ripe Saskatoon berries on her tongue. Saw the dolls disappear in the fast-moving creek. Felt the coarse tree bark against her bare legs.

Words rose to Elizabeth’s mouth unbidden. Her lips parted. “I’ll take the child,” she whispered.

Marie’s head jerked up. Her eyes contained a mixture of confusion and fear. “What did you say?”

“I’ll take the child,” Elizabeth repeated more firmly, surprised by the words that her tongue had thrust from her mouth.

The colour drained from Marie’s face. “What do you mean?”

“Let me raise her,” Elizabeth said, more animated now. “I know this sounds crazy, and obviously you don’t have to make a decision right now, but if you don’t want the baby and you don’t want to abort it either, give her to me. Let me raise her for you.”

Marie looked as if the floor had opened up beneath her. She clutched the arms of the loveseat to keep herself from falling. Then she stood abruptly and grabbed her coat and purse. “This was not why I came,” she said.

Elizabeth stood up too and placed her hands on Marie’s shoulders.

“Listen, Marie. Wait.”

Marie fell back into the loveseat, her face white and fearful. Elizabeth reached out and firmly gripped her wrist. “Look, we’re both kind of in shock right now, but think about my suggestion, okay? I’ll take the child. I mean it. Or at least talk to Dr. Maclean before you make any decision. He was my doctor when I was young; he’s an expert on Down syndrome. I remember going to his office and having the waiting room filled with children who had Down syndrome. He’s done remarkable work; I think he’s been a real pioneer . . . I could call him for you.”

She stopped when she saw the panic on her friend’s face.

“Marie? Are you okay?”

“No, I’m not.” She put her face in her hands and sobbed. “I can’t stay here,” she said, pulling on her coat. “I have to go home.”

Elizabeth stood up. “Wait. Marie! You’ve got more options than you think. I’d love . . .”

But Marie was already at the door, falling headlong into the driving rain.

She heard Elizabeth’s voice call
after her but she kept on moving.

She’d come for sympathy, not for a solution. Elizabeth wasn’t supposed to offer her another option. Didn’t she know how to listen, how to pat a friend’s hand and nod knowingly? Now there was yet another wrinkle in things.

The van was parked half a block down Jasper Avenue and the rain fell heavily onto Marie’s hurrying figure.

Directly across the street was the General Hospital, ugly as a nuclear power plant. Why at every turn was there some sign of her predicament? Suddenly she hated everything about it, the crowded parking lot, the sad attempt at landscaping, the stone statues of mercy and grace.

Marie unlocked the van and ducked inside. The rain hadn’t put out the fiery heat of her emotions. Elizabeth might as well have kicked her in the teeth or thrown her in front of a bus.
I’ll take the child.

A voice in her head said, Home.

She turned the key in the ignition and backed quickly from her spot and into traffic. Home. She needed to be home now.

I’ll take the child.

Why hadn’t Elizabeth just listened?

Let me raise her.
That’s what friends do, you know.

Her mouth tasted sour. Elizabeth knew nothing about being a friend. That was obvious now. Almost twenty years ago she’d taken Ron, and now she wanted Marie’s child too?

She was driving too fast. She clutched the steering wheel, leaning forward in the afternoon’s pale light to peer through the windshield.

Somewhere in a calm spot in her mind, she knew she wasn’t being truthful or fair, but she couldn’t help herself. She needed someone to blame.

Marie tucked her hair behind her ears and used the steering wheel to pull herself to her full height. Of course she would love the baby if it were born, but wasn’t it a kind of love to protect someone from the pain of being different and excluded?

Sometimes love was available in life, and you chose it. But maybe sometimes you didn’t choose it. If she had the baby, Marie didn’t doubt that she’d love it. But if she didn’t have the baby, then she’d be protecting her child from a life of exclusion. Wasn’t that a form of love? Or was it just a big cop-out? Maybe what she was really wanting was to protect herself from the pain of loving a child that was now targeted as undesirable. If there was a test designed to weed these kids out, then who was she to go against that current? Hadn’t skilled medical researchers worked years to isolate the ingredients that produced these children?

She turned the van into her driveway and parked it in the garage. Her girls would be home soon, and she needed to compose herself. This decision was likely going to be the biggest turning point of her life. She would need to live with herself afterwards, no matter what action she decided to take.

Elizabeth stared at the café
door, certain that Marie would return, but after several minutes had passed she realized her friend had definitely gone. She replayed their conversation in her mind, looking to see where she might be at fault. She had blindsided Marie by saying she’d raise the baby, that much was certain. But it wasn’t fair for Marie to be angry about her spontaneous offer. What
had
she said, anyway? That she’d raise the child as her own. It was the perfect solution. Marie didn’t seem prepared to raise the child, but she also didn’t seem keen on aborting it. With one simple decision, she could absolve herself of the responsibility of raising the child and erase her best friend’s childlessness. Hadn’t her own daughter, Nicole, once said that it would be a good idea for her mother to give Elizabeth a baby?