Read Online Every Time We Say Goodbye by Jamie Zeppa - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Jamie Zeppa
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staircase. “Go,” he said.
Not fighting was impossible.
She took Danny up to her room and held him on her lap, stroking his dark blond hair. He played with her fingers and she told him that she had to go away for a while, to find work and a place to live, to see if it was possible for a woman with a baby to have a job and make a home. It would be unbearable for her, every minute, but she would endure it for him, and he must endure it for her. “Do you understand, Danny?” she asked him, and he wriggled deeper into her lap and nestled his head under her chin.
“Grace!” It was Vera at the bottom of the stairs. “Where’s the baby? You better not be up there playing with him like he’s a doll!”
Grace buried her face in her son’s neck and wept.
It was unthinkable. It boggled the mind and broke the heart. It ran against the running of all things. It was not doable, and yet she was doing it. She was putting clothes into the straw-coloured suitcase. Fold, fold, tuck. She had to stop every few minutes because her chest would begin to burn and the room would grow dim, and she’d realize she wasn’t breathing.
She looked around. “Now, make sure you have everything,” Vera said every time she came upstairs. “Your comb, your toothbrush. Did you pack those new blouses I made you?” There was still the photo of Danny in the frame, but she would carry that in her purse. The cupboard drawers were askew, empty except for scraps of paper and yarn. Everything Grace owned and nothing she wanted was in the straw-coloured suitcase. The only thing that mattered to her was the only thing she would leave behind.
Frank said, “I don’t agree with this. You don’t
have
to go away, Gracie. You just have to try to get along with Vera. Work more as a team. Give and take. She just wants what’s best—”
But Grace cut him off. “No, Frank. I am going.” That silenced him. She didn’t say that there was no give and take with Vera. Under her own roof, Vera would always win. She didn’t say that she hated Vera with such a black, implacable passion that she was afraid to stay.
Frank went down to talk to Vera. “I’m not saying she can’t look after her own child, for heaven’s sake!” Vera said, her voice rising up through the vents. “But should I stand idly by and let her do what we know to be wrong? I can’t do that, Frank. She has no idea, simply no idea.”
Up in the attic Grace could hear the strain of the mattress springs as Frank sat down heavily. “Well, I can’t fight both of you,” he said, his voice thickening.
“It’s the best thing for her,” Vera said, softening. “The longer she waits, the harder it will be. And it will do her a lot of good to get out on her own, learn what the world is made of.”
Grace already knew: the world was made of tiny pieces of nothing that flew together and stuck. One tiny granule met another in the great nothingness, and they longed for each other. There was no reason for it. No reason why one near-invisible fragment of glass in a plate should long for the other fragments, and why the other fragments should long for it, and yet it did and they did. If one fragment was lost, the plate fell apart in grief. It was pure desire that held everything together. Plates, rocks, trees, beetles, children. The world was made of pieces of nothing that desired to be together.
It was not necessary to leave to learn that. But there were other reasons to go. If a person had a child but no husband, a room but no house, a place but no home, a will but no way, and if a person was losing her son and herself, little by little, day by day, because she knew what she knew in her skin and bones but not what her sister-in-law knew in her books and pamphlets, then yes, it was necessary.
A FRESH START
F rank took her to the bus station in the dark. She didn’t wake Danny; it would have killed her to say goodbye. Not that it would matter. She was dead already. The walking
Not fighting was impossible.
She took Danny up to her room and held him on her lap, stroking his dark blond hair. He played with her fingers and she told him that she had to go away for a while, to find work and a place to live, to see if it was possible for a woman with a baby to have a job and make a home. It would be unbearable for her, every minute, but she would endure it for him, and he must endure it for her. “Do you understand, Danny?” she asked him, and he wriggled deeper into her lap and nestled his head under her chin.
“Grace!” It was Vera at the bottom of the stairs. “Where’s the baby? You better not be up there playing with him like he’s a doll!”
Grace buried her face in her son’s neck and wept.
It was unthinkable. It boggled the mind and broke the heart. It ran against the running of all things. It was not doable, and yet she was doing it. She was putting clothes into the straw-coloured suitcase. Fold, fold, tuck. She had to stop every few minutes because her chest would begin to burn and the room would grow dim, and she’d realize she wasn’t breathing.
She looked around. “Now, make sure you have everything,” Vera said every time she came upstairs. “Your comb, your toothbrush. Did you pack those new blouses I made you?” There was still the photo of Danny in the frame, but she would carry that in her purse. The cupboard drawers were askew, empty except for scraps of paper and yarn. Everything Grace owned and nothing she wanted was in the straw-coloured suitcase. The only thing that mattered to her was the only thing she would leave behind.
Frank said, “I don’t agree with this. You don’t
have
to go away, Gracie. You just have to try to get along with Vera. Work more as a team. Give and take. She just wants what’s best—”
But Grace cut him off. “No, Frank. I am going.” That silenced him. She didn’t say that there was no give and take with Vera. Under her own roof, Vera would always win. She didn’t say that she hated Vera with such a black, implacable passion that she was afraid to stay.
Frank went down to talk to Vera. “I’m not saying she can’t look after her own child, for heaven’s sake!” Vera said, her voice rising up through the vents. “But should I stand idly by and let her do what we know to be wrong? I can’t do that, Frank. She has no idea, simply no idea.”
Up in the attic Grace could hear the strain of the mattress springs as Frank sat down heavily. “Well, I can’t fight both of you,” he said, his voice thickening.
“It’s the best thing for her,” Vera said, softening. “The longer she waits, the harder it will be. And it will do her a lot of good to get out on her own, learn what the world is made of.”
Grace already knew: the world was made of tiny pieces of nothing that flew together and stuck. One tiny granule met another in the great nothingness, and they longed for each other. There was no reason for it. No reason why one near-invisible fragment of glass in a plate should long for the other fragments, and why the other fragments should long for it, and yet it did and they did. If one fragment was lost, the plate fell apart in grief. It was pure desire that held everything together. Plates, rocks, trees, beetles, children. The world was made of pieces of nothing that desired to be together.
It was not necessary to leave to learn that. But there were other reasons to go. If a person had a child but no husband, a room but no house, a place but no home, a will but no way, and if a person was losing her son and herself, little by little, day by day, because she knew what she knew in her skin and bones but not what her sister-in-law knew in her books and pamphlets, then yes, it was necessary.
A FRESH START
F rank took her to the bus station in the dark. She didn’t wake Danny; it would have killed her to say goodbye. Not that it would matter. She was dead already. The walking
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