The Unfinished Child (21 page)

Elizabeth caught herself. Was Marie really that keen on seeing her best friend fail?

She picked up the phone and dialled Marie’s number.

“Hi! I was hoping to catch you at home.”

“Elizabeth!”

Marie truly sounded pleased. And a bit relieved.

“I’m sorry I haven’t called,” Elizabeth began. “Things have been kind of hectic lately.”

“I know, with me too.”

“Look, this is late notice, but I was wondering if you and the girls could come over this afternoon to see my new place. I’ll pick up some snacks. It’d be nice. What do you think?”

“That would be great. The girls should be on their way home. Barry took them to their swimming lessons this morning. But I know they’ll be delighted to come.”

“Excellent! How about two-thirty?”

“Sounds good. Just give me your apartment number again, in case I can’t find it. Can I bring anything?”

“No. Just yourselves. You’ll be my first guests.”

After Elizabeth’s call, Marie hung
up and returned to her weekend cleaning ritual. Saturday was bed sheets and bathrooms. She heated the chicken noodle soup that she’d made that morning. That, together with a grilled cheese sandwich, would keep her girls going until dinner. She glanced at her watch again and increased the flame under the pot. The girls would be so excited to visit Elizabeth’s new place. Nicole in particular. She felt a pang of jealousy. Nicole was never that excited to see
her
, but she sure did idolize Elizabeth.

The soup bubbled in the pot. She gave it a stir and turned the flame down low. The sandwiches were ready to go into the frying pan as soon as the kids got home.

She filled the sink in the main floor bathroom with hot water and lemony liquid soap and put on some rubber gloves. Now that she thought about it, she realized Nicole hadn’t expressed much interest in her of late, except when she wanted something, like food or money. Marie knew she shouldn’t take it personally, but it was hard not to.

Just the other night she had felt an unsettling presence while doing the dishes and had turned to find Nicole’s darkly appraising eyes making an inventory of her body, measuring and judging.

“What are you doing?” she’d asked. “Admiring my bum?”

Nicole had rolled her eyes. “Hardly.”

There’d been a time when Nicole had picked out clothes for her. “Wear a dress, Mommy, the blue one.” Or, if Marie was wearing a vest, then Nicole would find hers and put it on too. It was sweet and seemed to foreshadow the years ahead when Nicole would be older and ask for her advice on things. But maybe that period of wanting to be like her mother was already gone. Maybe that had been it, when she was six and adoring and filled with admiration for her mother. “You’re so pretty, Mommy.”

Marie had been shopping at Southgate one day and seen one of Nicole’s best friends, Jody, outside the library. She’d been talking to a boy with long hair that covered one of his eyes. His jeans were ripped at both knees. He looked like trouble. And Marie had experienced a surge of hope that the girl might not be as good as everyone believed her to be. Then she’d felt an equal dose of guilt for wishing someone’s child might become one of the “wrong” crowd.

That’s why it was so easy to stay friends with Elizabeth. Her childlessness meant there wasn’t any competition around the children. Marie hated how when other mothers bragged about their children’s music awards or sports accomplishments that she, too, felt the impulse to trot out her daughters’ accomplishments as if she were reading from a stellar and lively resume. But it was so hard just to listen without adding something about her own children. Maybe she was too competitive. Or maybe she was just insecure.

She finished scrubbing the bathroom floor and tucked a wisp of hair behind her ear. The girls would adore Elizabeth’s new place. A high-rise! An elevator to the twelfth floor! A balcony with a view! Coming home afterwards would be torturous.
I wish we could live there
, they would whine, completely overlooking the fact that Elizabeth lived there alone.

The toilet bowl glistened.

Elizabeth didn’t know to keep quiet about the pregnancy. How could she tell Elizabeth that she wasn’t entirely sure if she wanted this baby?

Marie heard the door to the house open from the garage. She stored the rubber gloves in the cabinet beneath the sink and went into the kitchen. Nicole and Sophia came in, their hair damp and clinging to their cheeks.

“What’s for lunch?” Sophia asked.

“How was swimming?”

“Good. What’s for lunch?”

Marie turned on the burner beneath the sandwiches and told the girls to put their wet stuff in the laundry basket.

“Something smells good,” Barry said as he walked in.

“It’s chicken vegetable soup.”

“Not again!” Nicole’s mouth formed the shape of disgust.

“When was the last time I made it, huh? You tell me that.”

Nicole looked surprised but didn’t answer.

“Sheesh, someone got up on the wrong side of the bed,” Barry said, and Marie hated him at that moment.

She put a bowl of soup in front of Nicole. “Sorry I snapped, sweetie, but I thought you liked chicken soup.”

“I do. I just don’t feel like having any today.”

It was hard not to mimic her response.
I just don’t feel like having any today.
One day she’d have her own kids and feel a similar frustration when they suddenly stopped liking something or complained about the food placed before them. She almost said as much but then decided not to. “Well at least eat your grilled cheese, please.”

Just a grain of gratitude from time to time would be nice, she thought, a small nod to acknowledge her hard work.

Sophia bounced into the kitchen again and sat down at her place. “Yum, grilled cheese. Can I have some ketchup, please?”

How could one child be so easy to please and another be so difficult? Marie put the ketchup in front of Sophia and ruffled her damp hair.

“What are we doing this afternoon? Can I have a friend over?” Sophia asked.

Barry searched the refrigerator for pickles and olives.

“Are you sticking around the house this afternoon?” Marie asked her husband.

He nodded. “Golf’s on later.”

“Why don’t we ever do anything interesting?” Nicole asked.

Marie ignored her. “Let me talk to your father alone for a few minutes to figure out what our afternoon will look like.”

“Why can’t you talk in front of us?” Nicole asked.

“Because I’d prefer to have some privacy.”

“How is that different from whispering?” Nicole added. “You always say it’s not polite to whisper.”

“Just a few minutes, please.”

She took Barry’s hand and led him out of the room.

“What was that about?” Barry asked.

Marie shook her head. “I don’t know. I’m feeling out of sorts. Elizabeth called and invited me and the girls over this afternoon to see her new place.”

“That’s nice. You haven’t seen her in a while.”

“But it’s
not
. The girls are going to go over there and be totally in love with her apartment with the balcony and the view.”

“I don’t know about that,” Barry interrupted. “They’ve been to my office before and it has the same view.”

“But you don’t
live
there. I feel like Nicole doesn’t want to be around me these days, and she
adores
Elizabeth. Plus,” she continued, “the girls don’t know about the pregnancy, and I haven’t told Elizabeth that I’m worried about the baby’s health.”

“Why don’t you just go alone?”

She paused. “What do you mean?”

“Don’t take the girls. Tell Elizabeth that they had other plans.”

“But I already said we’d come.”

“Well tell her that
I
made plans that you didn’t know about.”

Marie felt a glimmer of relief. “I don’t know . . .”

“If you go alone you can talk to her about the baby. It probably wouldn’t hurt to have someone else to talk to.”

Sophia bounced out of the kitchen. “Finished yet?”

Marie nodded. “I’m going out to do some shopping.”

“Can I come?”

“Maybe next time,” Marie said. “I’ve got a bunch of errands to do.”

“I could help.” Sophia’s bright eyes took on a tinge of pleading.

“I need some time to myself, honey.”

“But you’ve been alone all
morning
. Why can’t I come?”

Marie wavered slightly and smiled at her youngest. “Next time,” she said and watched both corners of her daughter’s mouth turn down. “I promise.”

“Hey sweet-pea, go ahead and call a friend if you want,” Barry added. “I’ll be around all afternoon.”

From the doorway, Nicole stared at her mother, then slowly turned away.

The neighbourhood felt
eerily quiet for a Saturday afternoon. No children played outside. The blinds in the front windows of most of the houses were closed. So, too, were all the garage doors. It was the in-between season—too early yet for yard work and gardening and too late for any winter play. In the next few weeks the city’s street cleaners would come and remove all the gravel and sand that hugged the curbs alongside every street. Until then, the air would remain gritty with winter silt.

She put her blinker on and turned north on the main road flanked by an endless variety of stores and merged into the slow-moving traffic. She stopped at a plant store and bought a large rubber tree in a dark blue ceramic pot. She hadn’t intended to spend so much on Elizabeth’s housewarming present.

As she loaded it into the back of the van, she practised some excuses to explain the girls’ absence.
I forgot they had a birthday party.
No, that wouldn’t work. Elizabeth knew how organized she was.
I was hoping we could have a chance to talk alone.
But she’d missed her chance to say that when Elizabeth had called. If only she hadn’t accepted the invitation so quickly.

Too soon she found herself crossing the Low Level Bridge. In the river below, large chunks of ice broke steadily from the ice dams along the shore and merged into the brown waters moving sluggishly on the invisible current. She kept left and rounded the bend to her friend’s new home.

The high-rise stood at the base of the hill, a tall magnet for winter grime. An intricate wooden boardwalk of stairs and sidewalks traversed the hill in a series of switchbacks that led up to the downtown core. She smiled as she recalled Sophia once asking why they called it downtown when you had to go up to get there.

She parked in a visitors parking stall and stepped out of the van. Grit and dust spiralled in the wind.

The plant was heavy. She balanced it on her thigh and closed the side door. Then she hoisted it higher in her arms and walked into the building.

Elizabeth buzzed her in. Marie dragged the plant into the turquoise and pink lobby and toward the two black elevators. Now that she was here, she almost wished she’d brought the girls along. So far the building was nothing to brag about.

The doors opened on the twelfth floor and Marie hoisted the plant one last time. A gold-plated sign on the wall facing the elevators listed the apartment numbers. She turned left for 1208.

At the end of the hallway a door opened and Elizabeth stepped out, illuminated by the light spilling into the hall from her apartment.

The distance between the two women shrank with each step Marie took. She shifted the plant in front of her to block her face. Her arms ached. Her stomach felt suddenly light.

“Where are the girls?” Elizabeth asked.

Marie avoided eye contact and groaned as she put the plant down inside. “Whew, that was heavy!” She dusted her hands on her pants. “They didn’t feel like coming. They stayed up late last night to finish a movie, so they were exhausted after swimming. But they said to say hi and asked if they could come next time.” She was explaining too much but couldn’t stop. “Plus, Sophia had sort of planned to have a friend over. She hadn’t told
me
though; she’d cleared it with Barry.”

Elizabeth nodded and took Marie’s coat.

“They wanted me to get you a really big plant. Easy for them to say! I was the one who had to carry it.”

Elizabeth looked dubious, as if she didn’t quite believe her. Marie wondered why she just hadn’t told her the truth:
I wanted to talk about the baby. I’m afraid that Nicole will love you more.
No, she couldn’t say that last bit.

“Where do you want it?”

Together they lifted the plant and placed it in a patch of sunlight by the sliding glass door. The mid-afternoon sun shone brightly through the window.

“That looks lovely,” Elizabeth said. “Thank you. And thank the girls too. Who is Sophia’s lucky friend?”

Marie opened her mouth but nothing came out.

“You said she was having a friend over.”

“Oh, yes. Her friend of the week is Stephanie.”

“Does she live in your neighbourhood?”

“Yes, not far at all.”

“That’s good,” Elizabeth smiled. “So Barry didn’t have to go and get her?”

“No, she walked.” Marie turned to hide the flush in her cheeks. “This place looks great. Can I have a tour?”

“Well, there’s not much to see. This is the living room.” Elizabeth lifted her right arm horizontally and swept it slowly around the room. Then she walked briskly toward the hall. “And in here is the bedroom.”

A double bed stood in the middle of the room, covered with a patchwork quilt and at least a dozen throw pillows of assorted colours. Against the wall was a dresser made from polished steel; its drawers were old wooden Coke crates. Some cast iron hooks on the walls held Elizabeth’s scarves and accessories. She had removed the closet doors and hung a bead curtain instead. Elizabeth had a great decorating sense. Nicole would have loved this.

“The bathroom is over here,” Elizabeth went on, retracing her steps. “And this is the kitchen and dining room.”

The table was set for four. China plates with delicate pink flowers and gold rims were set beside pink linen napkins upon which sat small silver forks and spoons. A crystal vase of colourful gerbera daisies served as the centrepiece, the sharp pinks, yellows, oranges, and reds like a sudden burst of summer. On a silver tray beside the vase was an assortment of goodies: banana bread cut into triangles, plum-sized scones with jam and cream, delicate rectangles of mille feuille, and bite-sized lemon squares. Chilling in a silver bucket at the table’s edge were four cans of Italian soda.