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Authors: Steena Holmes
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you?”
“Not very old; it was before my tenth birthday.” I shook my head. “Young enough to not really understand what was going on. Charlie and I had just come home from school. Normally, our mom would be there to walk us home, but after Christopher was born, she had a neighbor meet us at school instead. Charlie was the one who found them. I’ll never forget her screams.” I shuddered at the memory . “Never.”
“What happened?” Her voice was tender; I ignored the fact that her hand inched its way back to her notebook.
“Go ahead and write…I know you want to.” I leaned forward and pushed it to ward her.
I couldn’t believe I was going to share what happened with her. Brian knew, and I was sure he’d mentioned something to Nina before he left for London, but other than Charlie, Aunt Mags, and the counselor I saw during those early years, I hadn’t told anyone else. No one else needed to know. Walter knew I’d lost my mother at an early age and that she’d died with my younger brother, but tha t was it.
I felt safe with Nina. I trusted her with my life. With Grac e’s life.
I licked my lips and cleared my throat.
“She was in her rocking chair and Christopher was in her lap. His head was cushioned on her arm but his lips and face were all blue. On the side table was a glass of water and an empty pill bottle and a note. They said…” I winced at the pain as I struggled to swallow. “They said she suffocated him while she nursed him and then overdosed when she realized what she’d done.” I tilted my head up to stare at the ceiling and blinked past the swell of tears in my eyes. I was not going to cry. I wasn’t.
“Who’s they , Diane?” N ina asked.
“The police. I can still hear Charlie’s screams, you know. I wish…God, I wish I had gone to check on the baby first. It’s what we did every day after school. We couldn’t wait to see him. But they’d handed out little trees at school and I wanted to put mine in a cup of water so it wouldn’t dry.” I shook my head at the memory. “It’s funny the things you remember, those details that really don’t matter in the scheme of things.”
“They do matter.”
“We were only kids. We had no idea what happened. Our neighbor must have heard Charlie’s screams, because she was the one to call the police. I remember one of the officers talking to his partner and calling my brother a victim. I was standing right beside him, beside Christopher; I refused to leave him. I kept my eyes on him, to see if his lips would move, to see if he would come back to life. I prayed while we waited, prayed that God would save him…and I waited. But God never answered. I told the officer his name was Christopher and that was the last thing I said fo r months.”
Nina laid down her pen and crossed her legs.
“You didn’ t speak?”
I shook my head.
“Neither one of us did. Counselor said we were in shock and told our Aunt Mags to love us and once we felt safe, we’d talk. And we did. Eventually. It took Charlie si x months.
“This is how we spoke.” I picked up the journal and held it tight to my chest. “Between the two of us, I’m sure we went through fifty or more journals. Charlie was around six years old, and she couldn’t print very well, so she’d draw lots of pictures. But I would spend hours writing. I’d lock myself away in our room with Mags and pour out all my thoughts, my questions, my dreams, in these books.” I pressed the book harder into my chest and the edges dug into m y breasts.
“What was on t he note?”
The note. I shook my head. I didn’t want to talk about the note. I’d tried to hide it beneath the mattress of Christopher’s crib before anyone else saw it, but the neighbor caught me and snatched it from my fingers. She’d given it to the police officers, who’d then shown the note to my father. It was the look on his face, the despair, the confusion, and even a hint of hatred when he looked at both
“Not very old; it was before my tenth birthday.” I shook my head. “Young enough to not really understand what was going on. Charlie and I had just come home from school. Normally, our mom would be there to walk us home, but after Christopher was born, she had a neighbor meet us at school instead. Charlie was the one who found them. I’ll never forget her screams.” I shuddered at the memory . “Never.”
“What happened?” Her voice was tender; I ignored the fact that her hand inched its way back to her notebook.
“Go ahead and write…I know you want to.” I leaned forward and pushed it to ward her.
I couldn’t believe I was going to share what happened with her. Brian knew, and I was sure he’d mentioned something to Nina before he left for London, but other than Charlie, Aunt Mags, and the counselor I saw during those early years, I hadn’t told anyone else. No one else needed to know. Walter knew I’d lost my mother at an early age and that she’d died with my younger brother, but tha t was it.
I felt safe with Nina. I trusted her with my life. With Grac e’s life.
I licked my lips and cleared my throat.
“She was in her rocking chair and Christopher was in her lap. His head was cushioned on her arm but his lips and face were all blue. On the side table was a glass of water and an empty pill bottle and a note. They said…” I winced at the pain as I struggled to swallow. “They said she suffocated him while she nursed him and then overdosed when she realized what she’d done.” I tilted my head up to stare at the ceiling and blinked past the swell of tears in my eyes. I was not going to cry. I wasn’t.
“Who’s they , Diane?” N ina asked.
“The police. I can still hear Charlie’s screams, you know. I wish…God, I wish I had gone to check on the baby first. It’s what we did every day after school. We couldn’t wait to see him. But they’d handed out little trees at school and I wanted to put mine in a cup of water so it wouldn’t dry.” I shook my head at the memory. “It’s funny the things you remember, those details that really don’t matter in the scheme of things.”
“They do matter.”
“We were only kids. We had no idea what happened. Our neighbor must have heard Charlie’s screams, because she was the one to call the police. I remember one of the officers talking to his partner and calling my brother a victim. I was standing right beside him, beside Christopher; I refused to leave him. I kept my eyes on him, to see if his lips would move, to see if he would come back to life. I prayed while we waited, prayed that God would save him…and I waited. But God never answered. I told the officer his name was Christopher and that was the last thing I said fo r months.”
Nina laid down her pen and crossed her legs.
“You didn’ t speak?”
I shook my head.
“Neither one of us did. Counselor said we were in shock and told our Aunt Mags to love us and once we felt safe, we’d talk. And we did. Eventually. It took Charlie si x months.
“This is how we spoke.” I picked up the journal and held it tight to my chest. “Between the two of us, I’m sure we went through fifty or more journals. Charlie was around six years old, and she couldn’t print very well, so she’d draw lots of pictures. But I would spend hours writing. I’d lock myself away in our room with Mags and pour out all my thoughts, my questions, my dreams, in these books.” I pressed the book harder into my chest and the edges dug into m y breasts.
“What was on t he note?”
The note. I shook my head. I didn’t want to talk about the note. I’d tried to hide it beneath the mattress of Christopher’s crib before anyone else saw it, but the neighbor caught me and snatched it from my fingers. She’d given it to the police officers, who’d then shown the note to my father. It was the look on his face, the despair, the confusion, and even a hint of hatred when he looked at both
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