That night I thought I should probably spend some time with Baby. It wasn't that I... that I neglected her or anything, but I just didn't... I didn't know how to make myself happy, never mind her. She was a quiet kid, which was good. Chuck liked quiet. I hoped she stayed that way. She cried a lot, sure, but the thing about Baby was that she didn't really make any noise after the first 30 seconds- she'd just stare at you crying completely silent, cheeks all puffed out, tears trickling down onto her shirt. That always scared me a lot more than if she'd just scream and scream- what if she got hurt playing one day and I didn't hear her?
Sometimes I thought maybe it would be better for her to have a sibling. My house hadn't really been the happiest growing up, but I'd loved my brother. Dave, I thought as I sat down on the floor in the 'nursery', Baby cradled in my arms, would probably have beaten the shit out of Chuck a long time ago, and then I wouldn't have to worry about any of this. Dave had always looked out for me. He said that was what big brothers did. They looked out for the younger ones.
Then I thought about what Dave would say about the way I let Chuck treat me, and had to lean my head back against the wall. He'd be disgusted with me, probably. Nothing had ever scared Dave. Even when he'd been shipped off to some godforsaken country, he hadn't been scared. "Chin up, Sue," he'd said. "I'll write you like crazy, alright? You'll be sick of hearing from me. You gotta hold down the homestead, keep Dad from trying to baptize the damn dogs. Make sure Mother eats. You know how they get."
I did know. And when we'd heard that he wasn't coming back, not ever- POW/MIA, they said, and I'd left. Just like that, I was gone, because I was a coward. And then like a coward, I'd come back. That's basically what I was. A stupid little coward who couldn't commit to anything or anyone. Not her husband, not her kid, not a single goddamn thing. If I was a better mother to Baby, maybe Chuck would be nicer. Maybe he wouldn't feel like he had to hurt me all the time if I was a better wife. I was pretty bad at listening, and doing what I was told, and cooking, and sewing, and at all the things you were supposed to know how to do by the time you were twenty three and married.
Baby patted me on the nose, and I tried to smile at her, but I could still taste the tap water in my mouth, and resisted the urge to spit. "I know, honey. I'm trying, okay? I know I can do better. I will. I promise."
"Ma," she said warmly. "Wanna sing."
Sometimes, when Chuck wasn't home, I put on some of my old records and we danced around the house. She loved The Beatles. "Hey Jude," I mouthed at her, "Don't make it bad..."
"Sad song," she mumbled tiredly.
"Right, take a sad song... and make it better...,"
The floor creaked outside in the hall and I hastily stood up, still mouthing the words to her as I put her down in her crib. "Love you, Angie." I reached over and turned out the light, then reluctantly left the sanctuary of the small room, still painted sky blue from when we'd been so sure it'd be a boy. We hadn't done a good enough job; the paint was starting to chip already.
Chuck wasn't in the hall, but he was sitting down on the bed in our room. I tried to gauge his mood from a furtive glance; he didn't seem angry anymore, at least. "Did you say her prayers with her?" he asked, while I changed in a corner, keeping my eyes firmly on the floor. He didn't like it when I looked at him while I was... not clothed. Pissed him off. He said it was too... I don't know. It was just too forward, I guess. Like I was asking for it. So I mostly just closed my eyes whenever we... were together like that.
"Yes," I lied, easily. I'd been lying about saying prayers of any sort for what seemed like a decade. I figured Chuck was my comeuppance for the whole thing.
I didn't look him in the eyes until the nightgown was on, and then knelt down dutifully on the opposite side of the bed. We prayed in silence. Well, Chuck prayed, and I did my usual internal debate, which in tonight's case was to examine just how furious I was with him for the water thing. I'd stopped being truly mad at Chuck a long time ago. I couldn't even get offended on my own behalf much anymore, because what was the point? But it had been horrible today. Worse than usual, and afterwards I'd had to mop up the water "I" got all over the floor. I wasn't raging silently about it, but there was a new, deep loathing settling in my gut. I wanted him to pay. Whatever it took. I wanted to drag him down to my level for once.
Finally, Chuck sighed and stood up again, and I slowly got to my feet as well.
"I'm disappointed in you," he said. "I thought this was going to be a good summer, Susie. Better than last year."
Last year Baby had only been a year old and Chuck had memorably dragged me outside by the hair, screaming his head off at four in the morning, because I'd left a light on in the kitchen by accident.
"I'll do better." I murmured. "I mean it Chuck, really I will." I remembered Debra's words. "I just..." Christ almighty, how was I going to talk him into this one? I was a decent liar- a husband like Chuck would do that to you- but by no means was I some master manipulator.
Inspiration struck. "I just have something to tell you. About why I was talking with that woman, Chuck. I know I shouldn't have, and I'm sorry, I really am, but I-,"
"What is it?" he demanded.
"I-," I looked up, and tried to mold my face into the most convincingly earnest expression possible. "I think I'm... expecting."
He came around the bed towards me, face unreadable. I took a step back, bumping into the night stand. "I wasn't sure, because- you know how forgetful I am, and it has been a while since... since the last time, but I just wanted to ask her opinion, as a woman, you know-,"
He put his hands on my stomach, almost adoringly. They were hot, even through the night gown. I swallowed unsteadily. "I can't be too... too far along, but I-,"
"You're telling me the truth, Suze?" His breath was warm in my ear.
I nodded mutely, then found his mouth on mine, and shocked, almost tried to break away from him before remembering exactly what might happen if I did so, and going along with it.
"You make so happy, Susie-Q, when you do as you're told for once," he said later, while I looked up at two flies crawling on the ceiling, straightening my night gown. "Do you know that?"
"I want you to be happy all the time," I whispered.
"Keep it up, and I just might be." He pressed another kiss to my cheek, the same spot where Debra had hours earlier, and finally turned out the light. He never wanted the lights out. Never. They always had to be on.
Chuck was a hell of a lot more accommodating, at least for the time being, after that. No more badgering me to do the dishes, to sweep, to tidy up. As far as he was concerned, it'd be best if I just stayed in the house, preferably in one room, preferably lying down and I dunno, waiting a baby to slide out, for the next nine months. Obviously, I couldn't let that happen, so I took advantage of his good mood to start negotiations. Eventually he came around to the idea of me visiting Debra and George, so long as I was always home to cook meals, and never there past five.
"I guess our boy could grow up friends with theirs," he said thoughtfully at dinner one night. "Might be nice."
"It'd be wonderful," I said, spooning more mashed potatoes into Angie's mouth. She couldn't be Baby anymore, right?
Debra was thrilled with what she termed my 'first step forward'. I was flattered, and more importantly, more confident that we were going to succeed, but she was still vague about the details.
"But... how?" I asked in frustration, admiring their pristine sitting room at the same time. The furniture was spotless, the rug lavish. A ceiling fan spun lazily overhead. Despite my best attempts to catch him, George was always either out or tucked away in his office upstairs, and I had yet to manage more than a few coy smiles directed his way, which he always obliviously returned.
She held a finger to her lips as a door open and shut upstairs, and then we listened as another door closed before she stood up and motioned for me to follow her out of the house. We stepped out into the blinding sunlight and I followed her over to the gleaming Chevy. She popped the trunk almost languidly, and then rummaged around before taking out a case and setting it on the ground. I peered over her shoulder, then gasped, not because of the sight of the gun inside- I'd grown up around guns, and shot my fair share of them- but because of how pretty it was. Almost feminine. It was a beautifully carved, antique looking piece, rosy in the sunlight.
"My father gave me this," Debra said, "On my sixteenth birthday. Mother would have had a stroke, but she was dead by then."
"I'm sorry," I squeezed her hand impulsively.
"Don't be, she was a terrible bitch," Debra continued passively. "I liked my father, though. We were very similar in terms of temperament. He respected me. I suppose he didn't have much of a choice. No sons. He used to take me hunting."
"My brother did too," I smiled at the memory. "He loved his dogs. Raised from puppies. I helped him."
"So you know how to shoot?" Debra cut straight to the chase, as usual. "You're just full of surprises, aren't you?" She sounded nearly fond of me. I straightened slightly in pride.
"Of course. I haven't in a long time now, but I was always a good shot."
"Excellent, that'll make this much easier. You can be the one to do the shooting."
I stared at her. It was becoming a bad habit.
"We're shooting them?"
She frowned. "Of course. What, did you expect me to go fetch an ax from the woodshed and make like Lizzie Borden?"
"No, I just thought... I don't know, we can't just... put something in their food?"
"Drug them to death?" Debra rolled her always piercing eyes. "That's hardly reliable. I won't go down as a failed poisoner. Imagine how pathetic it would sound. Like mothers who try to drown their babies in the bath."
"Oh, so we'll just both rot in women's prison for shooting them," I retorted, slightly hysterically. "Even better."
"For God's sake, Susan, it's not as if I asked you to slit their throats in their sleep. We're not animals. Listen, come with me for a drive and I'll explain it better."
She shut the case, placing it carefully back in the trunk, and waved me over to the passenger side. I got in, reluctantly. "If Chuck sees the car leaving..."
"Oh, fuck Chuck," she said peevishly, and turned on the radio. "We both need some air."
I rolled down the window and leaned back in the seat, closing my eyes as the car roared to life and rumbled down the lane.
Submitted January 12, 2017 at 10:10PM by notyourcure http://ift.tt/2jpKkoR
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