The incredulous look on Hope’s face made my finger itch for a camera. She glanced at the clock over the oven. “It’s not even seven o’clock, and you’ve already talked to Mrs. Ivy?”
I nodded. “She was waiting on the porch when the aide arrived at six. She couldn’t wait to tell me. She said you saw Peggy spying on you, and that’s when you came inside.”
Hope turned away to pour a cup of coffee. “Was the whole town watching?”
“Just the neighbors.” I gave her a wink. “In the future, it’s probably best to do your canoodling someplace more private.”
“We weren’t...” Hope’s face flamed. “It was just a good-night kiss, that’s all.”
“Oh, I don’t blame you, dear. He’s a very handsome man. Butnot much happens in this town without everyone finding out. It’s always been that way.”
Hope opened the refrigerator and pulled out a carton of yogurt. “That must have made things hard for you with Charlie and Joe.”
She was deliberately changing the topic. I recognized the tactic, having employed it plenty of times myself, but I let her get away with it, because it was high time I told her the part I’d been dreading. “Oh, my—that’s God’s own truth. And there are other truths I have to tell you. What do you say we get back to my closet when we finish here?”
“Sure.”
After breakfast, Nadine gave me my medicine, and I told her we didn’t want to see her until lunchtime. Hope and I moved into my bedroom, where I settled hard into my rocking chair. I paused a moment, then gathered my courage. “Open the closet. On the floor on the left side, there’s a box with a red lid. I want you to pull it out.”
Hope found it and brought it over to me.
“Open it, dear.”
She set it on the blanket chest beside the rocker and lifted the lid. I reached in and picked up an infant-sized little white sailor suit. It was yellowed, but the red and blue trim was intact. I smiled. Seemed like yesterday that I was burping a baby on my shoulder.
“This was Eddie’s?” Hope asked.
“Yes.”
Next she lifted out a dress Mother had made for Rebecca—white eyelet, now yellowed. Hope oohed and aahed over it.
My chest tightened at what was coming. “Pull out what’s under it.”
She lifted out two layette sets, still in tissue, unworn and pristine. One was yellow, one was green. She lay them across my lap. I didn’t realize my eyes had teared up until she handed me a tissue.
“Mom told me you had a stillborn baby,” Hope said softly.
And all of a sudden, here we were—at the very part I didn’t wantto talk about, even though we’d been heading toward it all along. “Well, dear, that’s not exactly right.”
“No?”
“No. That’s what everyone thought, but...”
A cloud was settling over me—a dark cloud of stormy memories. “Sit down, dear. There’s something I need to tell you.”
1947–1948
Life went on for us after Joe’s last visit, but I started avoiding marital relations with Charlie. Something about seeing Joe again had stirred up a streak of bitterness. Maybe it had always been hiding inside me, but I didn’t fully realize it until after Joe’s second visit.
The magnitude of all I was losing out on—travel, adventure, earth-stopping sex—hit me anew. I was angry. Angry at God, angry at fate, angry at Charlie—even, God help me, angry at my children and my parents and grandparents. I was angry at everyone who put daily demands on me, who kept me trapped in what felt like a life of drudgery.
Mostly, I think, I was angry at myself—and anger turned inward festers.
I couldn’t stand for Charlie to touch me. I’d feign a headache, or fatigue, or pretend to already be asleep. “It’s your wifely duty,” Charlie finally told me.
Well, he was right—but having him tell me Ihadto make love with him just made me all the more reluctant. I gave in, but I acted like a rag doll instead of an active participant. I resented him, and my resentment—my passive aggression, I guess you’d call it—well, it tore Charlie up on the inside. He wanted something from me that I wouldn’t give, and the more he wanted it, the more stubborn I grew.
“Tell me you love me, Addie,” he’d beg.
