Seré Halverson - The Underside of Joy

David had inherited Marcella’s energy and knack for cleaning. By the time I walked out in my robe, a towel on my head, he had the kids picking up strewn toys and piles of colouring books while he stood at the sink, yellow rubber gloves conveyoring dirty dishes into the dishwasher.

‘Mommy? Are you better?’ Zach asked. Annie just held an empty rice cake wrapper and watched me.

‘Yes, honey. I’m so sorry I didn’t take you to school.’

David said, ‘I called earlier to check in, but the phone went to voice mail right away. I figured you were talking to your lawyer, but I guess Annie was on the line.’

‘Talking to Marcella?’

‘Apparently not…’ David looked at Annie.

‘Honey, who were you talking to?’

Annie shrugged. ‘Um, just Mama.’

‘Oh?’

‘She was worried.’

I took a deep breath, tried to keep my voice steady. ‘Worried?’

Annie stamped her foot. ‘Because you wouldn’t get up! You just wouldn’t. She said she would take care of us.’

David said, ‘Ella, don’t worry, I’ve already spoken to Paige. I think I convinced her that we’ve got things under control.’

Annie said, ‘Na-uh, Mama’s coming. She told me she was coming. She told me she would fix us something to eat. ’

David slipped off the gloves and went to Annie, as I should have, but my mind and muscles seemed to be experiencing a bad connection. He scooped her up. ‘You want something to eat after all Nonna’s cannelloni you devoured? I’ll fix you anything you can fit in that over-stuffed tummy of yours.’

Annie would have usually laughed in glee, but she didn’t. I went to them, smoothing my hand down her back, speaking over David’s shoulder the way I had when Joe held her. ‘Honey, I am so, so sorry. I didn’t mean to sleep so long. I am so sorry you were alone to take care of Zach. You did a wonderful job, but you shouldn’t have had to do that. Were you scared?’

She nodded, slightly at first, then big, heavy nods and a loud burst of tears. I took her from David and held her while she sobbed in my arms. Finally she said, ‘You-you-you-you’re mad at me! ’Cause I called Mama!’

‘No, Annie. I’m not mad. You did the right thing.’

‘But you don’t like her!’

‘Sweetie… It’s just… it’s just a hard time right now. For everyone. For you. For Zach. And for me too. I’m sorry. I am going to try a lot harder. I really am. I wasn’t there for you today. And that won’t happen again. Starting now, okay?’

She nodded, small nods again. Not-quite-believing-me nods.

How could I let this happen? Maybe I wasn’t a better mother than Paige. Falling apart, unable to care for my kids or even myself. What if something had happened to them while I was in bed sound asleep on a Monday afternoon? I went into the bathroom and flushed the remaining Xanax down the toilet.

The rain stopped while the sunshine unfolded itself across our porch. We decided to go down to the river for a swim. They both loved going to the beach, and I was trying to make amends. Annie rode her two-wheeler, Zach his trike, and I walked alongside him on the pine-needle-covered path through the trees down to Elbow Beach, a wide triangle of perfect sand jutting out to the water. Annie pointed to the osprey nest across the river, the huge crown of sticks on top of the tall dead tree. ‘Let’s watch the babies.’ But the nest was quiet, empty, the osprey probably heading south by now. We had the whole place to ourselves. Most mothers had got up that morning and taken their kids to school.

While I spread out the blanket, Zach pulled his trike through the soft sand down to the river’s edge, then hopped back on it and started to slowly push the pedals until the front tire was in the water.

‘Zach, what are you doing? Honey, stop that.’

But he kept his feet on the pedals, his eyes on the water. I walked over to him and stuck my foot in front of the tire.

‘You can’t ride your trike into the river. Let’s go for a swim instead.’

He shook his head, kept looking into the water.

‘Zachosaurus? What is it?’

‘I’m going somewhere.’ He pushed harder on his pedals, so the tire spun a bit in the sand against my toe.

‘Ouch! Zach, let’s put your trike up by the blackberry bushes and I’ll take you in the water. Now.’

He shook his head, still not looking at me. ‘Is Daddy down there? I want to go see him on my trike.’

‘Oh, honey. No, Daddy’s not in the water.’

‘Okay, GOOFBALL!’ He jumped off and lay in the sand.

‘Do you want to talk about Daddy?’

But he broke into the uh-huh song and scrambled back to his feet, pulled his trike up to the blackberry bushes, then raced back down and held on to my leg. When I asked him if all that meant that he was ready to go swimming, he nodded.

He’d always been too fearless about the water for someone who didn’t quite know how to swim, but that day he stayed very close, crawling up into my arms. I understood, and welcomed his trust. It felt like an opportunity to do penance. My heart beat with sadness but without physical pain, without threatening to seize up and quit, beat steady as the words I whispered onto his slick, wet back, ‘I’m here, honey. I’m here.’

As Zach clung to me, I checked for any sharp rocks or hidden objects in the water below so Annie could jump off the rope swing. She, too, looked to me for assurance. I nodded, and she leapt up, arms out, legs in an easy stance, a moment of pure freedom. Her face emerged from the water still smiling, and she came to me for a congratulatory hug. I lifted her up and held them both, weightless as they were, in the clear, cool water. Below the surface, I felt something slip past my ankle, a surge of water, a silky flick of a tail, and I flinched with the reminder that I was stepping through an entire world I couldn’t see.

On the way home, we stopped at the store. David was filling an order of sandwiches for a group of eight. When he finished, he came out, gave me a high five, and sat down while I swept the porch. Annie said, ‘Mama had a pool at the hotel, but Zach wouldn’t go in it.’

‘Oh?’ I said, keeping my voice light, for Annie’s sake as well as mine. I’d had such a good time swimming with the kids, I wasn’t going to let my own problem with jealousy ruin it.

‘He was scared, but not with you,’ she said, obviously trying to make me feel good. That’s how pathetic I’d been. ‘Mama wears a T-shirt in the pool. Isn’t that different ?’

‘She probably just doesn’t want to get sunburned,’ I said.

Annie took out the checkers and began attempting to teach Zach how to play. David said to me, ‘Paige has always been that way. I thought it was overly zealous modesty, as if anyone gave a shit. Of course, I certainly didn’t.’ I smiled, almost told him I didn’t think modesty was the problem, judging by certain photographic evidence. But I kept my mouth shut and steered our conversation back to the store, which was no longer sinking fast but certainly not sailing into the black, which was what I needed to happen. Soon. For so many reasons.

The next day, after I got out of bed and made sure my kids attended school instead of sitting in front of the TV, I dusted the store merchandise while I talked to Gwen Alterman about the upcoming mediation. She gave me the rundown, speaking fast, which I appreciated, since every minute of that call cost me about three bucks.

She reminded me not to attack, not to raise my voice, not to interrupt Paige. ‘Stay calm. Don’t forget to breathe. Start your counterargument with “Nevertheless”…’

I set down a box of crackers and my dust rag and scribbled as much of this down as I could.