The Best of Sisters in Crime (45 page)

Let’s do it
again, Daddy, I beg. Sure, Kitten, he says, calling me by the
Father Knows Best
nickname I always wanted. I
was never Daddy’s Kitten, and he never let me ride the roller coaster twice.
Once was good enough for anybody, my real Daddy always said. With my
dream-Daddy I ride every ride twice, and I catch the bright brass ring,
reaching from the painted zebra on the carousel.

When I next wake
up, the doctor stands over me, my frail wrist in his hand, taking my pulse. He
shakes his head at the nurse, and I get the picture. Not much more time.

The needle?

The vulture at
the foot of my bed is five feet tall now. He gazes at me with hungry red eyes,
stinking like a rotted corpse. Should I give myself to him now? Is it time to
eat my strawberries?

No. I let myself
slip down the rabbit hole. I never could stand not knowing how the story comes
out. And there’s so much more to do—maybe this time Harold Kimmerling asks
me
to the prom and Wendy Bentine spends the night crying her eyes out.
Or maybe Sandy and I will have another giggly picnic by the pond. Or I’ll ride
up the Zambesi on a barge, my head protected by a pith helmet. And meet a very
British wildlife photographer with a crooked smile and long legs, and maybe,
just maybe, we’ll . . .

Tomorrow I’ll
put the needle in my arm and give myself to the vulture.

Or maybe the
next day. Or the day after that.

I slip into her
room around 3:00. Once she said, “In the dark night of the soul, it is always
3:00 in the morning.” I knew what she meant. I see a lot more three A.M.’s than
most people.

I know she’d
want to go at three A.M.

The pillow makes
a quiet swishing sound as I edge it from under her head. She doesn’t wake, but
moans in her sleep. It’s the kind of moan that if she was alive you’d think she
was having sex, but in the shape she’s in it can only mean pain.

The vulture is
enormous. It’s time.

I’m holding the
pillow when I feel something hard inside. I poke around and stab myself on a
hypodermic needle. She must have stashed it there, God knows how.

This is one lady
who really wants to die. I nod and whisper softly, “I won’t let you down. I’ll
do the right thing.” Then I lay the pillow over her skull-face and press ever
so gently.

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Joyce Carol Oates is one
of America’s most influential contemporary writers, teachers, and critics. Her
novels, essays, poetry, and short stories have earned her a permanent place of
honor in American letters. Winner of the National Book Award, the O. Henry
prize, the Rea Award, and a member of the American Academy-Institute of Arts
and Letters, she has also written several novels of suspense, including
Snake Eyes,
under the name Rosamond Smith.

In “Extenuating
Circumstances,” a young woman’s monologue reveals the depth of her torment, and
her terrible response.

Because it was a mercy. Because
God even in
his cruelty will sometimes grant
mercy.

Because Venus
was in the sign of Sagittarius.

Because you
laughed at me, my faith in the stars. My hope.

Because he
cried, you do not know how he cried.

Because at such
times his little face was so twisted and hot, his nose running with mucus, his
eyes so hurt.

Because in such
he was his mother, and not you. Because I wanted to spare him such shame.

Because he
remembered you, he knew the word
Daddy.

Because watching
TV he would point to a man and say
Daddy—?

Because this
summer has gone on so long, and no rain. The heat lightning flashing at night,
without thunder.

Because in the
silence, at night, the summer insects scream.

Because by day
there are earth-moving machines and grinders operating hour upon hour razing
the woods next to the playground. Because the red dust got into our eyes, our
mouths.

Because he would
whimper
Mommy
?
—in that way that tore my heart.

Because last
Monday the washing machine broke down, I heard a loud thumping that scared me.
the dirty soapy water would not drain out. Because in the light of the bulb
overhead he saw me holding the wet sheets in my hand crying
What
can I do? What can I do?

Because the
sleeping pills they give me now are made of flour and chalk, I am certain.

Because I loved
you more than you loved me even from the first when your eyes moved on me like
candle flame.

Because I did
not know this yet, yes I knew it but cast it from my mind.

Because there
was shame in it. Loving you knowing you would not love me enough.

Because my job
applications are laughed at for misspellings and torn to pieces as soon as I
leave.

Because they
will not believe me when listing my skills. Because since he was born my body
is misshapen, the pain is always there.

Because I see
that it was not his fault and even in that I could not spare him.

Because even at
the time when he was conceived (in those early days we were so happy! so happy
I am certain! lying together on top of the bed the corduroy bedspread in that
narrow jiggly bed hearing the rain on the roof that slanted down so you had to
stoop being so tall and from outside on the street the roof with its dark
shingles looking always wet was like a lowered brow over the windows on the
third floor and the windows like squinting eyes and we would come home together
from the University meeting at the Hardee’s corner you from the geology lab or
the library and me from Accounting where my eyes ached because of the lights
with their dim flicker no one else could see and I was so happy your arm around
my waist and mine around yours like any couple, like any college girl with her
boyfriend, and walking
home,
yes it was
home,
I thought always
it was
home,
we would look up at the windows of the
apartment laughing saying who do you think lives there? what are their names?
who are they? that cozy secret-looking room under the eaves where the roof came
down, came down dripping black runny water I hear now drumming on this roof but
only if I fall asleep during the day with my clothes on so tired so exhausted
and when I wake up there is no rain, only the earth-moving machines and
grinders in the woods so I must acknowledge
It is another time, it
is time
) yes I knew.

Because you did
not want him to be born.

Because he cried
so I could hear him through the shut door, through all the doors.

Because I did
not want him to be
Mommy,
I wanted him to be
Daddy
in his strength.

Because this
washcloth in my hand was in my hand when I saw how it must be.

Because the
checks come to me from the lawyer’s office not from you. Because in tearing
open the envelopes my fingers shaking and my eyes showing such hope I revealed
myself naked to myself so many times.

Because to this
shame he was a witness, he saw.

Because he was
too young at two years to know. Because even so he knew.

Because his
birthday was a sign, falling in the midst of Pisces.

Because in
certain things he
was
his father, that knowledge in eyes that went beyond me in mockery of me.

Because one day
he would laugh too as you have done.

Because there is
no listing for your telephone and the operators will not tell me. Because in
any of the places I know to find you, you cannot be found.

Because your
sister has lied to my face, to mislead me. Because she who was once my friend,
I believed, was never my friend.

Because I feared
loving him too much, and in that weakness failing to protect him from hurt.

Because his
crying tore my heart but angered me too so I feared laying hands upon him wild
and unplanned.

Because he
flinched seeing me. That nerve jumping in his eye.

Because he was
always hurting himself, he was so clumsy falling off the swing hitting his head
against the metal post so one of the other mothers saw and cried out
Oh! Oh look your son is bleeding!
and that time
in the kitchen whining and pulling at me in a bad temper reaching up to grab
the pot handle and almost overturning the boiling water in his face so I lost
control slapping him shaking him by the arm
Bad! Bad! Bad! Bad!
my voice rising in fury not caring who heard.

Because that day
in the courtroom you refused to look at me your face shut like a fist against
me and your lawyer too, like I was dirt beneath your shoes. Like maybe he was
not even your son but you would sign the papers as if he was, you are so
superior.

Because the
courtroom was not like any courtroom I had a right to expect, not a big
dignified courtroom like on TV just a room with a judge’s desk and three rows
of six seats each and not a single window and even here that flickering light
that yellowish-sickish fluorescent tubing making my eyes ache so I wore my dark
glasses giving the judge a false impression of me, and I was sniffing, wiping
my nose, every question they asked me I’d hear myself giggle so nervous and
ashamed even stammering over my age and my name so you looked with scorn at me,
all of you.

Because they
were on your side, I could not prevent it.

Because in
granting me child support payments, you had a right to move away. Because I
could not follow.

Because he wet
his pants, where he should not have, for his age.

Because it would
be blamed on me. It
was
blamed on me.

Because my own
mother screamed at me over the phone. She could not help me with my life she
said, no one can help you with your life, we were screaming such things to each
other as left us breathless and crying and I slammed down the receiver knowing
that I had no mother and after the first grief I knew
It is better, so.

Because he would
learn that someday, and the knowledge of it would hurt him.

Because he had
my hair coloring, and my eyes. That left eye, the weakness in it.

Because that
time it almost happened, the boiling water overturned onto him, I saw how easy
it would be. How, if he could be prevented from screaming, the neighbors would
not know.

Because yes they
would know, but only when I wanted them to know.

Because you
would know then. Only when I wanted you to know.

Because then I
could speak to you in this way, maybe in a letter which your lawyer would
forward to you, or your sister, maybe over the telephone or even face to face.
Because then you could not escape.

Because though
you did not love him you could not escape him.

Because I have
begun to bleed for six days quite heavily, and will then spot for another three
or four. Because soaking the blood in wads of toilet paper sitting on the
toilet my hands shaking I think of you who never bleed.

Because I am a
proud woman, I scorn your charity.

Because I am not
a worthy mother. Because I am so tired.

Because the
machines digging in the earth and grinding trees are a torment by day, and the
screaming insects by night.

Because there is
no sleep.

Because he would
only sleep, these past few months, if he could be with me in my bed.

Because he whimpered
Mommy!—Mommy don’t!

Because he
flinched from me when there was no cause.

Because the
pharmacist took the prescription and was gone such a long time, I knew he was
telephoning someone.

Because at the
drugstore where I have shopped for a year and a half they pretended not to know
my name.

Because in the
grocery store the cashiers stared smiling at me and at him pulling at my arm
spilling tears down his face.

Because they
whispered and laughed behind me, I have too much pride to respond.

Because he was
with me at such times, he was a witness to such.