barefoot on the cement floor, tinkering with her father’s old train set. At night, she could hear him snoring across the hall.
In those days, she called Deirdre ‘Mom’. Juliet used to sit in a kitchen chair that was pulled into the bathroom while her mother trimmed her hair. When she was small and squirmy, she was allowed to fiddle with a ball of Play-Doh while Deirdre circled and re-circled her, bending down and tipping her face to account for the new angle of Juliet‘s bangs. ‘There once was a girl with a curl right in the middle of her forehead,’ she’d say in a singsong. She’d scowl and make another attempt, resulting in an inevitable too-short fringe of blonde across Juliet’s forehead. ‘When she was good, she was very, very good, And when she was bad, she was horrid !’ By the time it was over, the Play-Doh was covered with hair and had to be thrown out; a small price to pay to keep Juliet still.
When Hannah was born, Juliet had waited nearly ten years for a sister and felt like Hannah belonged to her. She pushed the stroller back and forth along the sidewalk in front of the house. She had to stay in sight of her mother from the kitchen window, which meant she was only allowed to go two houses in either direction. And although cars rarely passed by in the afternoons, she wasn’t allowed to cross the street. Still, she could spend hours like this, having nonsense conversations with Hannah or showing her off to neighbours who happened to be in their front yards.
When Lilly came, she shared Hannah’s room. Juliet was too old to share and her parents had been clear with her from the start that having a new baby around would not mean giving up her privacy. The truth was, she was jealous of the closeness this gave Hannah and Lilly. She’d move into their room in the middle of the night and sleep on the floor in front of Lilly’s crib. She’d switch off the baby monitor and soothe Lilly if she woke. Lilly got credit for sleeping through the night months before she really did. Lying on the floor while her sisters slept, Juliet felt a kind of peace and safety and home that she hasn’t felt since.
Losing the house felt like a death and Juliet promised never again to let herself get so attached to a building.
When she finishes her coffee, she rinses the mug and leaves it upside down in the dish rack to dry.
Every Friday, Jesse picks Juliet up from work. Mostly this means that he slouches at the gate that leads to the stone building where she works and they walk back to her apartment together. The walk was pleasant and leisurely at the beginning of the fall semester. As the city cools through November, they walk quicker and talk less. Juliet can feel her nose running. Often, they break up the trip by stopping to eat somewhere along the way.
Tonight, Juliet tugs at his sleeve as they approach the tiny Chinese place that does mostly take-out. There are three tables against the wall that are usually occupied by bored men with loosened ties waiting for brown, grease-spotted bags.
‘I have no cash,’ Jesse mumbles.
Juliet looks up at him. ‘A drug-dealer with no cash?’
‘Shut your fucking mouth,’ Jesse snaps at her. He pulls his hand away from hers as if it has been scalded.
Juliet flinches; she’s only slightly startled. She’s used to his flashes of rage. She fights the urge to apologize and instead chooses to push him a bit more. ‘Well, if it’s so embarrassing it can’t be spoken of . . .’ She shrugs, leaving the rest unsaid. She doesn’t know why she does this exactly, but sometimes it thrills her to walk along the edge of the cliff he has built, to dare him, call his bluff. It feels a little dangerous. And powerful.
Jesse only sneers.
Juliet begins to walk towards the restaurant’s entrance but Jesse pulls her back. She stops on the sidewalk and turns to him, rubbing her shoulder. ‘I have money,’ she explains.
‘Let’s just order a pizza.’ Jesse turns to go and Juliet
In those days, she called Deirdre ‘Mom’. Juliet used to sit in a kitchen chair that was pulled into the bathroom while her mother trimmed her hair. When she was small and squirmy, she was allowed to fiddle with a ball of Play-Doh while Deirdre circled and re-circled her, bending down and tipping her face to account for the new angle of Juliet‘s bangs. ‘There once was a girl with a curl right in the middle of her forehead,’ she’d say in a singsong. She’d scowl and make another attempt, resulting in an inevitable too-short fringe of blonde across Juliet’s forehead. ‘When she was good, she was very, very good, And when she was bad, she was horrid !’ By the time it was over, the Play-Doh was covered with hair and had to be thrown out; a small price to pay to keep Juliet still.
When Hannah was born, Juliet had waited nearly ten years for a sister and felt like Hannah belonged to her. She pushed the stroller back and forth along the sidewalk in front of the house. She had to stay in sight of her mother from the kitchen window, which meant she was only allowed to go two houses in either direction. And although cars rarely passed by in the afternoons, she wasn’t allowed to cross the street. Still, she could spend hours like this, having nonsense conversations with Hannah or showing her off to neighbours who happened to be in their front yards.
When Lilly came, she shared Hannah’s room. Juliet was too old to share and her parents had been clear with her from the start that having a new baby around would not mean giving up her privacy. The truth was, she was jealous of the closeness this gave Hannah and Lilly. She’d move into their room in the middle of the night and sleep on the floor in front of Lilly’s crib. She’d switch off the baby monitor and soothe Lilly if she woke. Lilly got credit for sleeping through the night months before she really did. Lying on the floor while her sisters slept, Juliet felt a kind of peace and safety and home that she hasn’t felt since.
Losing the house felt like a death and Juliet promised never again to let herself get so attached to a building.
When she finishes her coffee, she rinses the mug and leaves it upside down in the dish rack to dry.
Every Friday, Jesse picks Juliet up from work. Mostly this means that he slouches at the gate that leads to the stone building where she works and they walk back to her apartment together. The walk was pleasant and leisurely at the beginning of the fall semester. As the city cools through November, they walk quicker and talk less. Juliet can feel her nose running. Often, they break up the trip by stopping to eat somewhere along the way.
Tonight, Juliet tugs at his sleeve as they approach the tiny Chinese place that does mostly take-out. There are three tables against the wall that are usually occupied by bored men with loosened ties waiting for brown, grease-spotted bags.
‘I have no cash,’ Jesse mumbles.
Juliet looks up at him. ‘A drug-dealer with no cash?’
‘Shut your fucking mouth,’ Jesse snaps at her. He pulls his hand away from hers as if it has been scalded.
Juliet flinches; she’s only slightly startled. She’s used to his flashes of rage. She fights the urge to apologize and instead chooses to push him a bit more. ‘Well, if it’s so embarrassing it can’t be spoken of . . .’ She shrugs, leaving the rest unsaid. She doesn’t know why she does this exactly, but sometimes it thrills her to walk along the edge of the cliff he has built, to dare him, call his bluff. It feels a little dangerous. And powerful.
Jesse only sneers.
Juliet begins to walk towards the restaurant’s entrance but Jesse pulls her back. She stops on the sidewalk and turns to him, rubbing her shoulder. ‘I have money,’ she explains.
‘Let’s just order a pizza.’ Jesse turns to go and Juliet
Similar Books
