“Penny? It’s me?” I pushed the door to her bedroom open.
The blinds were pulled close, but the thick curtains were tied back to let the muted light fill the space. It was surreal, a bad omen. Because lying in the fetal position, on top of the fluffy white quilt, was my radiant cousin, staring across the room at the wall.
I closed the door softly behind me and hurried to her. “Hey you, I’m back.”
Her smile wobbled and fell a moment later. “You didn’t ask on the phone.”
“I didn’t have to.” I brushed her hair off her forehead, feeling the oily strands that were in-between wash day. “I was paying attention when Brady and I were here.”
She shuddered and looked back toward the wall. “Funny, Alessio doesn’t know.”
I tucked my bare feet under me. “You hid it well, I’ll admit.”
“What gave me away?”
Saints, her voice sounded far away. It was like her mouth was a participant, but her mind wasn’t there.
“You kept scooting your booze away.” I rubbed her shoulder. “Does it hurt? Can I get you a hot pad for the cramps?”
Penelope curled tighter, her breath ragged. “That’s just it! There aren’t any this time. I felt completely normal. Almost twelve weeks, Poppy. Twelve weeks, and it was fine!”
I nodded, not that she could see.
“I got up, ate, worked out, and went to shower…and….”
“And you’re bleeding,” I finished, those three words choking me.
“Yup, dark stains.” She uncurled one hand and reached for mine. I gave it to her. “Thank you for coming.”
Leaning down, I kissed her forehead. “I’m here. We don’t have to talk, but if you need anything, tell me.”
“Okay,” she whispered. “I can’t tell Alessio.”
“He won’t be mad,” I said quickly.
Penelope shook her head. “It’s killing me. But it’s worse for him. He feels so…helpless.”
Silence fell around us. The pain was there, brutal and raw.
The bedroom felt like a sanctuary of mourning. The muted sunlight cast zebra stripes across Penny’s collection of framed photos on the dresser—her and Alessio on their anniversary, the two of them hiking in Yosemite, a group shot of all of us at Christmas. The room smelled faintly of lavender from the diffuser in the corner, a scent that usually brought calm but now seemed to mock the heaviness in the air.
I watched as Penny’s fingers tightened around mine, her knuckles whitening. Her wedding ring caught what little light there was, sending a prism across the ceiling for just a moment.
We sat that way for what felt like hours, but it was just the slow march of the minutes. The soft ticking of the bedside clock marked a half hour, but neither of us acknowledged it.
“You’re lucky to have Brady,” Penelope finally said. “I guess that’s the only way I’ll be a mom at this point. But I was stubborn, you know? I wanted to grow one myself.”
I did too.I still wanted my own.
Not because I loved my son less, but because there was a primal desire deep within me that wanted to feel every aspect of growing life. Of bringing it into the world. To nurse it into those first few blissful days.
I could still have that.Ivan admitted he was interested in having children with me.
That idea sent a little thrill through my chest.
Why was I holding back? Because I was once more in the underworld? This could be the place I found my happily-ever-after.
Or maybe it was the trap that would imprison me for the rest of my days.
