“No,” I said. “Definitely not.”
“We just need to do all we can to keep her safe.”
I nodded, thought again of last night.
You’re the one who isn’t safe, Alison. You’re the one in danger.
TERESA WAS GONE,my mother was conked out from her meds, and I wandered the house like a ghost. I felt keyed up, restless. Moxie followed me, looking nervous, feeding off my energy.
I grabbed my phone and called Penny.
“How’s it going?” she asked.
“Better than I expected, but…”
“What?”
“My mother kind of freaked me out last night.”
“Oh?”
“She was up wandering and she seemed… confused. She told me I was in danger.”
“Yeah, I guess that would freak me out too. Do you think the night wandering will be a regular thing?”
“I hope not. We’re going to up her meds and see if that helps. During the day she seems fine. Better than fine, actually. She’s funny and charming. Mark and Olivia love her.”
Penny could hear the hesitancy in my voice. “But?” she said.
“I just can’t let go of this worry I have. And every time I leave Olivia alone with her, I’m just waiting for something awful to happen. For her to do or say something frightening.”
“And has she?”
“No. She’s actually very sweet with Liv.”
“Ali, this is all really hard. It’s going to be a huge adjustment. Go easy on yourself, okay? Try not to let that hamster wheel of worry spin out of control.”
I laughed. “I’ll try.”
“Stay focused on the moment. Remember to breathe. To take time for yourself. And trust that things are going to be okay. You’re all going to find your way through this.”
I thanked Penny and hung up, deciding to focus my energy on household chores.
I washed the breakfast dishes.
I gathered up laundry from hampers and started a load. I swept the laundry room, which was beside the kitchen in what had once been the pantry. We had kept the original deep porcelain sink in there, and some of the shelves. We stored all our cleaning supplies there, and on the right wall some extra pantry items like the glass jars of pears Mark and I canned each summer from the tree in the yard, a few bottles of wine, overflow canned goods, and supplies we used when the power went out: bottled water, candles, flashlights, a radio, extra batteries, and a little camping stove. I’d always found comfort in knowing these things were there, that we were prepared.
Mark texted at noon to check in, and I wrote back telling him all was well and that Teresa the nurse had been a hit with my mother.And apparently, my mother is a secret Grateful Dead fan, I wrote.
He sent me a series of laughing-until-you-cry emojis.
I went down into the basement, found a box of old baby things, things I’d been meaning to go through for years, and pulled out the monitors we’d used with Olivia. They were buried beneath her baby blanket, the little hat she’d worn home from the hospital, a soft rattle shaped like an elephant, and a few tiny outfits I hadn’t been able to part with.
Seeing it all hit me with a pang of nostalgia, a sense of time moving too fast—how was the little baby who’d worn that pink onesie six years old already? I lifted the clothing and blanket to my face, hoping to catcha scent of her baby self, but all I smelled was the musty staleness of the basement.
Mark and I had not planned to have a second child. Izzy was going to be our one and only. It was something we discussed, something we were both comfortable with. The truth was, I’d been so stressed during my first pregnancy and Isabelle’s infancy that I wasn’t sure I could do it again. Izzy had been a difficult baby—she was colicky, cranky, and only seemed to settle when she was in motion. The kid did not like to be put down. Mark and I wore her strapped to our chests and danced and bounced her to sleep. And Mark believed having one child was the right thing to do, ethically, in an overpopulated world.
I was thirty-seven when I got pregnant with Olivia. Izzy was in fourth grade. I was on the pill. I wasn’t supposed to get pregnant—it was the very last thing Mark or I expected. I remember showing him the drugstore test I’d taken—the two of us blinking down in disbelief at the plus sign.
