24
Woman in Blue
When the alarm goes off, it takes Father a few minutes to open his eyes and rouse himself. Outside the bedroom window, the day looks gray and gloomy. The sun seems to be struggling to break through the clouds.
After pulling on sweatpants, Father barely looks at anyone, including me. When Mahmee arrives, he hands Finn off to her with barely a grunt. He works out in the basement while the kids get ready for school, showers after they leave (turning the water as hot as it will go and neglecting to turn the fan on), and gets ready to go out. I don’t know where he is going today. We exchange a look as he passes by where I’m sitting, right by the front door.
I jump up to the windowsill to watch him go.
Mahmee throws a treat my way after she drinks her coffee and eats her toast with strawberry jam. Then she gets Finn ready for a walk in the pushcart. Finn gets a nice warm sweater, a thick coat, and a snug hat that must be pulled and stretched to fit onto his round head. Finn’s eyes are gentle and soft blue in the golden glow of the lamplight. Little mittens go on his baby hands. Mahmee decides to take Jasper along for the walk. She whistles for him, and hooks up the red leash to his harness. Even on the mornings when it is very cold, they bundle up and go out.
Sometimes when I am left alone in this big house I experience regret, and I cannot stop the bad thoughts from coming.
You see, I have a secret.
Far under the oven in the kitchen, I have hidden one of Mother’s most precious things. I wonder if she ever misses it, or wishes she had it. I feel terrible for stealing it.
But it seemed to bring bad luck to this house, and get Mother into trouble, so I hid it. Perhaps I should never have messed with it in the first place.
It’s so hard for me to know. I try to help, but I wonder if I made things worse.
The item that sits in the dust, out of reach, is a simple, thin gold disk. It is a fake, dull coin, and I think it used to belong to one of the children’s games. But that coin gave Mother special powers.
Mother told me all about ghosts. She used that coin to speak to the dead, which is an ability most humans don’t possess.
The night I stole the coin, many months ago during the hottest time of the year, when baby Finn had just been born, Mother had been carrying the coin around for days in her pocket. When no one was home, I saw her take the coin out and talk to it. She was communicating with those ghosts. I was always nearby, watching and studying her. Mother always operated on a higher plane than other humans. She was in touch with other souls, even ones we cannot see.
She was agitated. Pulling at her hair. Rocking gently back and forth.
Mother kept peeking out the window at our new neighbors, standing behind the curtain, rubbing the coin in her hand. Something about the neighbors was bothering her, and I had come to hate them. I hated what they were doing to her. While watching out that window, she bit her fingernails until they bled. The fingers that pulled aside the curtain were covered in Band-Aids of all sizes that she fetched from the kitchen.
Finn was upstairs in his crib, not a week old. Jimmy was upstairs in his own room. Father was also upstairs, taking a nap, having been up with Mother and the tiny baby a long time the night before. Mary was out with a friend.
Although Mother had spent most of the last months of her pregnancy in bed, ever since the birth of the baby, she had been up and about, pacing and unusually distraught. She didn’t seem to concern herself much with the baby, so I didn’t either. It worried me that she wasn’t resting enough. I realized that the situation with the neighbors was making her anxious.
A sticky heat permeated the old house, settling into the cracks. Everything my paws came into contact with felt too warm and too damp. Father had all of the fans going, but they only pushed the hot air around, providing very little relief. A musty scent tickled my nose every time I entered a new room. The baby periodically screamed with discomfort.
Finally, Mother went down to the basement and came back with an ax in her hand.
Without bothering to put on shoes, she went right out the front door, into the night. When she came back, without the ax, she looked exhausted.
She shut the door behind her as if it were very heavy and went into the living room. When she sat in the corner, on the floor, I climbed into her lap to calm her down. I watched a bead of sweat roll down her neck. We were quiet and still for a long while.
But then, suddenly, there was a sharp, insistent banging on the door. Jimmy came running downstairs.
From where I was sitting, I heard voices. Jimmy’s voice sounded full of surprise. He was soon yelling for Father to come down: “Dad! Dad, get up.” It sounded like Jimmy was trying to block people who were attempting to come in.
I caught only a glimpse of Father as he hurried down the bottom stairs and flew to the front door, looking disheveled. A woman’s voice said something I didn’t catch. I strained to listen as carefully as I could to the humans, because I was afraid they were threatening my family.
“No, Ann, everything’s fine. I don’t understand,” Father begged.
I heard the woman’s voice again. “I’m sorry, Tommy. They called 911. We have to come in.”
“Who called? No one called. We’re fine here. You don’t need to come in.”
“Your neighbors. They saw her on their property with an ax.”
“What? A what? No, she—” There was a pause, and then Jimmy came in to check on Mother. Perhaps Father was stalling. “No, no. She’s here. She didn’t go out.”
“Yeah, she’s right here,” Jimmy called out, standing over us.
Mother just hummed to herself and turned the gold coin over and over in her hand. She was perfectly still, and I turned my head up to look at Jimmy. At the time I remember thinking what a fool he was, what a fool all of these humans were to bother us. Mother and I were just sitting and thinking.
“I’m sorry, hon. We have to come in. They called 911.”
“No, no, I don’t think that’s a good idea. You’ll upset her. You’re going to make it worse.”
“Tommy, you know the rules. They called. Emergency call. We have to come in, hon.”
Finally, they were all in the room. A woman dressed in midnight blue stood with her hands at her sides, one thumb tucked into her belt. She wore a short-sleeve shirt with a badge on the arm, and there was sand on her shoes as she stood on our rug. Her blond hair was in a tight bun on top of her head. A young man, taller and skinny, waited behind her. His hair appeared to be shaved under his hat.
Mother and I faced the wall. Jimmy hovered near us, and then sat to join us. Father also stood close by, as if shielding us from these strangers. There was a long pause. Mother did not acknowledge their presence.
Finally, the young man cleared his throat. “Ma’am?”
“DON’T TALK TO HER,” Father exploded. “Who’s he?” he asked the woman in blue. “Where’s Jack?”
“On vacation.” She held her hand up to the young man. “He’s right. Don’t directly address her.”
“Is he trained? Step back. Step back. Don’t let him near her.” Father pointed at the tall man. “Don’t go near her. Don’t touch her. Don’t even think about it.”
Father was enraged, and I got a bad feeling in my stomach. After all, everything was fine. There was no need for this fuss. I sometimes don’t understand human reactions to my beautiful mother. But I understood why Father wanted to protect her. I agreed they might make her upset.
The woman in blue crouched down near Jimmy. “Hey, Jim,” she said softly. “What’s your mom been doing?”
“I don’t know,” Jimmy admitted quietly, the tears coming to his eyes now that the woman in blue was being so kind to him. “I wasn’t watching her. It was my turn to watch. I’m sorry.”
“Did she go outside?”
He shrugged, a tear falling down his cheek. “I don’t know. I don’t know. I’m so sorry.”
“It’s okay, hon.” The woman looked at Mother. “Carrie? Hey, it’s me. Carrie? It’s Ann. How are you feeling tonight?”
Mother turned her head now. I wondered why this woman with her blond hair in a bun, wearing midnight blue, was intruding on our family. She seemed to hold some power over everyone in the room, and I felt it.
“Fine. Great. Thanks, Ann. It’s just this,” she said, holding up the coin. “It helped me contact my grandmother yesterday, but it’s not working tonight. The thing is, Tommy promised me he would call Father Boyle. He promised that he’d invite Father Boyle over so I could explain to him all of the things that God has been telling me, but Tommy of course never called. He fell asleep. Because when you have a lazy-ass husband, nothing gets done, and I’m sure you know exactly what I’m talking about, because obviously he called you and never called Father Boyle.”
“Hon, Tommy didn’t call me. Your new neighbors called me.”
“Oh!” Mother’s voice was chipper and bright. “Oh, that’s great. That’s right. They’ve been watching me. They watch me come and go. They watch me out the window. Those people called you, and they called the town hall, and they called the governor. And I’m sick of it. I should have called you myself, because they’ve been harassing me. I told Tommy, but of course he never did anything about it, although you’d think if your husband was really worth something he’d take care of it. He thinks he’s a tough guy, but he’s not. I’m sure you think he’s really brave and handsome. I guess you’re together now, is that right? I know the police station is right next to the fire station. You think I don’t know what goes on over there on your lunch break? You think that I don’t know? Clearly he called you and not Father Boyle.”
“Carrie, Tommy didn’t call me. I only talk to him when I need to come here to talk to you. Your neighbors—”
“Frankly, you can have Tommy. I don’t care if you do. He’s lazy, he’s stupid, he doesn’t listen, and he doesn’t do what I ask him to do.”
The woman smiled mildly at Carrie. She blinked, barely breaking a sweat. “Carrie? Can I ask you a question about the ax?”
“What?”
“Where is the ax?”
Mother shrugged.
“I’m going to send my partner out to get it back for you. Where did you leave it?”
“In the tree.”
“Which tree, hon? In the neighbors’ yard? Or your own yard?”
I held my breath. I understood that this was an important question.
“I don’t know,” Mother said.
“Okay. That’s fine.” The woman turned and said over her shoulder, “Buddy, go out and get the ax. If the neighbors come out of their house, tell them we’ll be over there next, but come right back. Don’t get sucked into a long conversation with them yet.”
“Please,” Father implored, “don’t talk to them at all. Just let Ann talk to them.”
“Um, yeah, he’s right. Just go get the ax.” Ann nodded at Father, then stood up. “Tommy, do you want us to call an ambulance?”
“No,” he said. “No. Definitely not. Look at her. She’s okay. She’s just sitting there. For Christ’s sake.”
Jimmy wiped the tears off his cheek with the back of his hand. He straightened his back. I watched as his hand slowly slid up to where his sleeve covered the X scar on his upper arm. “Yeah, she’s been real quiet,” he chimed in.
“Shut up,” Mother whispered to him. “No one asked you.” She looked up at Ann, her eyes fierce and shining. “No one asked you either. Get the hell away from my husband. I know you called him. Here you are in my goddamn house. You’re out to get me too.”
Father frowned. His mouth opened, but he hesitated. I think he was afraid that no matter what he said, he would make her worse. “Stop, Carrie. You don’t want to go to the hospital, do you?” Father’s hands were on his hips. He had rings under his eyes. The baby had been keeping all of us up at night. His voice shook with the effort of trying very hard to stay calm.
“Of course not, you idiot.”
“Then you’d better be nice.”
“Nice. Great. I’m done talking to you people anyway. I was having a good conversation before you showed up.”
“But Ma,” Jimmy interjected, “who were you were having a conversation with?”
Ghosts, I wanted to tell him.
Ann stretched. “Hey, Jim. Why don’t you give me and your dad a minute?”
Jimmy glanced at his mom, slowly getting up. He looked scared out of his mind, pale and shaken. I wasn’t sure why. Mother seemed fine, and this strange woman in uniform had been very reasonable. He walked out of the room and up the stairs.
“She’s not having a good week, Tommy,” Ann said very quietly to Father. “I asked around, and she was down at the bar last night. Did you know that?”
Father folded his arms very tightly, a vein in his bicep pulsing out against his skin. “Yeah, someone called me. I know she had a few.” Father frowned. “I picked her up.”
Ann raised an eyebrow. “There were a few guys from Gloucester down there who thought she was very entertaining. You gotta watch that. You gotta make sure—”
“Jesus Christ, you think I let her go down there? You think I wanted her there? I had a call. I had to work.”
There was a pause. Ann pressed her lips together. Her finger tapped on her belt. “Didn’t Carrie just have that baby about a week ago? I’m surprised she felt well enough to go out. Is she having some kind of postpartum breakdown?”
Father was very still. “We did. Have a baby. Obviously she shouldn’t have been out.” He was holding his elbow so tightly that his arm was turning red.
“I assume someone was watching the baby. If you were working. And she was out.”
Father glared at Ann. She, in turn, looked cool and calm, as if they were just chatting about the weather. Father’s shirt was getting soaked with sweat.
“Someone is always here with Finn. Sometimes my mother. And Jimmy or Mary are always here,” he said through gritted teeth. “They’re always here if I go out.”
“Okay.” Ann just nodded. “I’m going to go talk to the neighbors. We better hope that ax—”
The young man breezed in, looking proud of himself, ax in hand.
“In the driveway!” he announced.
Father and Ann just stared at him. The young man was momentarily confused, and his cheeks turned pink. The hand holding the ax dropped by his side.
“I mean . . . good news. It wasn’t in their tree. It was in your own driveway.”
Everyone exhaled.
“Okay, then. I’ll go see if I can explain the situation, ask them not to press any charges.”
“But . . .” Father’s eyes betrayed how worried he was. “Ann, why would they press charges? You can talk them out of that, can’t you? They just moved in. They don’t want to start off this way, do they? I mean . . .” He wrapped his arms around himself. I could see that he was just barely holding himself together. “Can you please explain that she’s not . . . she rarely leaves the house these days.”
“Rarely. Yeah, I hear you. But rarely isn’t never.”
“Ann, you know her. C’mon.”
“I’m sorry, Tommy.” I saw Ann reach out as if she was going to pat his arm, but with a quick glance at Mother she thought better of it and pulled her hand back.
I felt Mother’s gentle hands firmly on my sides, so I stood up and climbed off her lap, because I knew Mother wanted to stand up. Everyone’s head turned when she stood. Mother was wearing shorts and an old T-shirt. Her bare feet were dirty. I wondered what the neighbors thought when they saw her out there with that ax.
Despite her dirty clothes, Mother looked luminous, with a dewy sheen of sweat on her face. She was beautiful and radiant, her face flushed with the heat of the night. She stared at the young man, who still held the ax in his hand. I have seen men get flattered and excited when Mother turns her attention on them, at parties and cookouts here at the house. They smile back at her and enjoy her rapt attention, the way her eyes never stray from the man she is talking to. But now, the young man with the ax looked more nervous than anything else to find himself the object of her gaze.
“Are you the one who has come to take me to the hospital?”
“Me, ma’am?” He looked left and right, as if Mother must have been talking to someone else. “No, ma’am. Not me.” I saw his throat waver as he swallowed. “We didn’t come here for that. I mean, unless you need a ride. We could take you there.”
Mother raised her head and looked down her nose at him, sizing him up, as if she was evaluating him for an important task. “You’re very nervous, aren’t you? Don’t worry. You seem like the right type. Should I go with you now? I don’t mind. I’m really tired. I need rest. You look very kind.”
I could hear Mother’s words and thoughts and phrases starting to jump out of order, like a jumble of nonsense. I know Father heard it too, from the way he tipped his head.
Mother smiled sadly and continued, “There’s something that was said to me that seems wrong. You’re a good, young man and you’ve worked very hard. You’ve spent many years listening and listening, and sometimes I’ll listen and sometimes I won’t. I can’t promise I will always listen, but I see that at least you’re trying. Are you going to take me away now?”
“No, ma’am.” The young man suddenly looked much younger, putting an awkward hand out in front of him quickly. “Not at all, ma’am. I’m not taking you anywhere.”
Mother’s face fell in disappointment. “I need water,” she stated. “Tommy, will you make them go away?”
“I’ll get you water. C’mere.” Father came and took Mother by the arm, holding her too tight, leading her into the kitchen as if she were a naughty child.
Ann and the young man exchanged a look, standing there in the stuffy living room. I stared at them, trying not to move too much in the heat. My fur coat felt like an extra layer of insulation that I didn’t need on top of my fat.
Ann adjusted the clip holding her hair as she walked toward the window. “I hope for Tommy’s sake that baby starts sprouting some blond hair,” she said under her breath to the skinny man.
The young man immediately bowed his head, hat still in place despite the heat, looking down as if to inspect his shoes. He wrung his hands together in front of him.
“Oh don’t look so shocked,” she whispered. “You work in this town long enough, you’ll learn some things. You’ll see some things you won’t even believe.”
Father came back out of the kitchen without Mother. “You don’t need that, do you?” Father interrupted, gesturing toward the ax. “Can I have that back?”
“What? No. I mean, yes, you can have it.”
Father took the ax. “Ann. We’re all okay, aren’t we? Can you guys get out of here now so I can talk to her? You’re going to make it worse.”
“Tommy, I’m sorry about this. We’re going to go. But if she gets more agitated you have to promise me you’ll take her right to the ER. Or call 911.” Ann looked directly at him, but Father was staring down at the ax, weighing it in his hand. “You’ve got two kids here. And a newborn baby. An ax is not something you can fool around with. Someone could get hurt. And you shouldn’t be letting her out of the house.”
Father suddenly lifted his head and scowled at Ann with such furious intensity that I was sure he was going to curse her out or scream at her, but he did neither. He just didn’t respond. Father never “let” Mother out of the house, like she was an animal that wasn’t capable of operating a doorknob. Mother did whatever she wanted to do. Father’s arm holding the ax was shaking slightly. For a moment, I almost thought he was going to take a swing at Ann with that ax. But he didn’t move a muscle.
Ann returned his gaze. “All righty, then. We’ll let you know if we need you again.”
We heard the door shut. Father and I didn’t move from our spots in the living room. There was no need to see these people out, these people who came in uninvited.
After a moment, Father walked into the kitchen. A glass of water rested untouched on the table, and Mother sat silently in her chair. The lighting in the kitchen was eerie and unnatural.
“God help you, if you ever pick up this ax again . . .”
“What? You’ll kill me? You’ll murder me with it?” Mother didn’t sound afraid. She looked right at him. “Go ahead.”
Now, I know something about predator and prey. I have a powerful instinct for self-preservation. I avoid pain and I despise heartbreak. But I have no fear of death, or blood and guts. I have killed two mice that found their way into this old house, and I ate their hearts out.
Father is so much bigger than Mother, I could see that with one or two swift blows of the ax he could kill her. It would be quick, and it would be easy.
But Mother was not afraid of death, I believe, and certainly not by Father’s hand. She had some interesting and strange ideas, but that wasn’t one of them. She was never afraid of Father. On the contrary, he had protected her for many years.
“Jesus Christ,” is all Father said, and he left the kitchen swiftly. I assumed he was going to hide that ax somewhere she couldn’t find it. I jumped up into Mother’s lap. Her touch was light and lovely, as always.
Father came back in a few minutes later, rubbing his eyes. “God give me strength.”
“God give you patience,” Mother corrected him, holding up one finger, echoing what she’d heard him say many times before.
That earned her a little smile from Father. “Yeah. That too. I need that too. By the way, I got you something.” He hunted around in the kitchen, opening cabinet doors and looking on one high shelf and then the next. It was clear to me he bought something for her a long time ago, in case of a situation like this one. Finally he found it. It was a bag of her favorite candy, caramels.
She took the candy from his hand, bewildered. Pinching it in her fingers, she checked to make sure it was soft enough to eat. I had seen her do this before.
“This is good,” she declared. “This is good enough.”
He sat down next to her. “It better be.”
Mother nodded. “God told me you were watching out for me. So I know all about it. I’ve heard a lot about you, and you don’t need to worry, because things could be a lot worse.” She sighed, and whispered, “I know I ruined your life, Tommy, and you don’t need to tell me. You know how sorry I am, and I know that you’d all be better off without me. I wish I could stop it, but I can’t. I told you to call Father Boyle, but you never did. You don’t listen, and that’s the problem with you.”
Father just shook his head. “Please don’t say things like—”
She continued without pause: “There’s a lot of other things that I can’t tell you about, Tommy, because there’s too many and Father Boyle is a very busy man in the order of that he doesn’t have time for me when you walk into the kitchen and my problems other than they told me what to do.”
I knew she was talking nonsense now, but Father still listened as if it all made perfect sense to him. “I know, sweetheart.”
“You haven’t been listening to me.”
“I know. And I’m sorry.” He had one hand on the back of her chair. His voice was softer, the energy sapped out of him. “Carrie.”
Mother looked at him. “You’re just doing your job.”
“I am.” Even now, even after all this, it is hard to describe the look he gave Mother.
He loved her like I did, which is to say: completely.
We both thought it would be forever.
Father pulled her hand to his mouth and kissed her knuckles. “I’m so grateful for that sweet little baby upstairs you gave me. He’s such a blessing.”
Mother reached down and scratched between my ears.
“Care, are you listening to me? Thank you for that baby. He’s going to be okay.”
Mother smiled down at me, and I winked back.
“Listen. Carrie,” he tried again. “That baby needs you. I need you. You need to stay home, not go out anywhere, and take care of—”
Mother lifted her head, and her expression changed, turning perfectly cold. “No, you listen. The baby is absolutely not going to be okay. And neither am I, trapped here.” Upstairs, as if on cue, Finn began his shrill newborn scream. Father winced, as if the sound was painful to him, but Mother’s face never changed. We soon heard footsteps on the old floorboards above us, and then we heard Jimmy cooing at Finn. “You wanted that baby. So now you’ve got him. But it’s not going to help. You’re better off without me,” she whispered. “That baby is better off without me. I’m a bad person. I’m not going to be here much longer. I’ll do you a favor and go.”
“Don’t say that. Please. Please don’t say that.”
If we knew she was just a few months away from leaving us, maybe Father and I would’ve paid more attention. But at the time, it just seemed like the sort of thing Mother would say when she was having a very bad day.
“I don’t feel well. Tommy—”
Mother, who had been holding the gold coin this entire time, let it slip from her fingers, and it dropped to the floor. Father jumped forward and caught her as she slumped into him. You see, I think Mother knew something was horribly wrong, and she was fighting it. Father helped her up and carried her into the living room.
He brought Mother to the couch and laid her down with her head propped on a pillow. First Father brought her pills and the glass of water. She took them without question. Then he lay down next to her on the old sagging couch, as if shielding her from the world, even though he could barely fit. He wrapped his arm around her and held her tightly.
Thinking back on it now, I think this was Father’s greatest fault: He didn’t like asking for help. He never spoke with anyone about Mother’s behavior that I knew of. I think he was afraid of losing her forever. Maybe he was afraid that if they came for her, they would not bring her back. Sometimes she would go to the hospital for a night, but he always made sure she came right back home. He wanted her home and nowhere else.
Even after she cut the Xs on Jimmy.
Even when she carried an ax in the house where that newborn baby lay crying in his crib.
He loved her too much, and that was a problem. Without realizing it, perhaps he was stopping her—and everyone else—from getting the help they needed.
I loved her too. I am guilty of the same things. Father and I are very much alike.
While they were sleeping, I paced back and forth, watching them. And then I noticed the gold coin, sitting on the kitchen floor. Unattended.
Maybe, I thought, that coin was the source of the trouble. After all, the voices came from the coin, didn’t they?
I padded into the kitchen and tapped the coin with my paw. It was lightweight. I tried picking it up with my mouth, but it was too difficult. I couldn’t get it to tip up enough to clamp my teeth onto it. So I batted it once, twice, and on the third try it went skidding under the stove.
Success!
The evil coin, the one that brought bad luck to this house, was hidden. I congratulated myself on my efforts. And I hoped Mother would not be too upset.
By the time Mary got home, Mother and Father were both fast asleep on the couch, and Father was snuggled up behind Mother. One of the lamps was still on, and it took Mary a moment to even notice them there. She tiptoed in with a big smile and looked at me. I sat in the armchair, half-asleep myself. “They’re so cute together, aren’t they, Boo?” Mary asked me with a soft laugh. “New parents. Always so tired.”
Mary didn’t know that upstairs Jimmy waited for her, rocking newborn Finn in the dark, keeping the baby quiet. I had heard Jimmy weeping quietly and considered going upstairs to comfort him, but I didn’t want to leave Mother.
Mary didn’t know that Jimmy waited for her with a scary story. A story about ghosts, and the neighbors, and an ax.
And a woman in blue.
I wait under the stairs, hoping Mahmee returns soon with the baby. My body feels tired and achy, heavy with memories. When Father and Jimmy said Mother is sick, this must be what they meant, that her ability to talk to ghosts is in fact an illness and not a gift.
I don’t care what the humans call it. To me, Mother always seemed wise and magical. Maybe that is how I should choose to think of her, no matter how angry I am. My memories are my own.