26. The Pill
26 THE PILL
Daphne
The day after the boathouse incident, I feigned period cramps and rushed to the pharmacy for supplies. When my pain supposedly got “too bad”, I elected to drive home, and no one stopped me. On the six-hour drive back, I fought terrible cramps but thankfully no bleeding. My period was due in a week and now began the countdown in hopes it just happened . I’d waited years to see happy, positive lines on a test, but this wasn’t the time. I padded upstairs and threw myself into bed.
I avoided my mother, who would leave early for Lake Geneva the next morning with friends. Next, I booked an appointment with a concierge women’s health service. After talking to the doctor about my options, I felt better. She assured me I did the right thing. Since my cycle was regular, I was unlikely to have conceived so late. I knew this, but it confirmed things. She wrote me a script, and I went home in a better mood. I left to get groceries.
Returning, things fell off the rails. My mother left a note.
Daphne,
I did not go to Lake Geneva. Patty fell ill, so we are taking a raincheck. I will be home for dinner.
Great . I pulled out my laptop and watched reality tv, spit balling how I’d get out of it. I scrolled until I saw what Cal was dealing with on the front page of the Chicago Daily Tribune.
The Mayor’s Office and Chief of Police have different versions of what happens next. Following the elevated response to an assumed school shooting at Roosevelt High School, Mayor Markham’s office believed a tape should be released for the purposes of public transparency. However, the police union and Chicago Police Department refuse to release the footage. Evaluating this, it appears Mr. Markham’s office is outhorsed. Inside sources suggest tackling policing will be more difficult than expected.
As I finished reading, Mum appeared.
“Things are hairy out there,” she gasped. “Don’t go. I predict there will be demonstrations.”
“What is this about?” I asked, concerned.
“Cal’s office is—along with Black leaders—demanding they release a tape. There was a school shooting just before your father’s death. CPD made it sound very dangerous. They used tear gas and rubber bullets on students. Well, they say it was a shooting, but I’d say it was a student who brought a toy gun to school to appear cool. The boy was wounded, but teachers said he did not appear to wish harm on anyone. Other students said they felt less safe after CPD’s response—not more.”
“So, Cal inherited this?”
“He did. And he ran on a reform platform, so good luck to him,” Mum sighed. “It will be a mess. Bishop Yates is going to hold his feet to the flames.”
I winced. “He should, but that sucks for Cal.”
My parents and Bishop Yates, a social justice leader on the South Side, formed an alliance in charity work. Mum thought the world of him. Yates was generally good-natured, but I suspected he had a big hand in getting Cal elected and wasn’t afraid to hold him accountable.
Mum rolled her eyes. “It does. CPD is corrupt. They are goons. At least the administration is. I suspect the Chief will be sacked—as he should be—but only after people march.”
“That’s awful.”
“The good news is, I was able to get us some essentials and pick up your prescription from the chemist. I needed to fill my migraine medication, after all.”
I panicked.
“Is there anything you need to tell me, Daphne?” Mum asked with a sly smile.
“Why?” I wondered.
“I know what the tablets are. They are birth control. Lanie was on them for enough years.”
Lanie was the first to go on the pill before leaving the house. Dahlia only dated girls—even if she wasn’t out yet. I was a late bloomer. Lanie didn’t subscribe to Catholic guilt. She and Mum went round about it for ages before Dad told Mum to back off and Lanie got her pills. I would have stepped in to mail them if need be. The last thing I wanted was for my baby sister to end up pregnant at sixteen.
“I don’t need the guilt, Mum. People are on them for a variety of reasons.”
“Yes, well, Daphne, I doubt that is what this is.”
I sighed. “Mother, I have a right to privacy?—”
“I know. But I want you to know that… you’re a grown woman. I am not here to judge if you have a man interested in you. All I ask is that I meet him and approve of him before he starts sleeping over.”
“I sincerely doubt that will be a thing, mother,” I protested. “I’m just… prepared.”
“So, there is no man?” Mum looked disappointed.
“There is a man. It’s not a big deal. I don’t want to talk about it. He also owns a place and lives alone, so I don’t see us retreating to my childhood bedroom.”
I suspected the very idea of fucking me in my childhood bedroom would turn Cal off. Or maybe it wouldn’t? Was that a kink for men? I didn’t know. What I did know was that I was not going to make Cal do a walk of shame from our house in the morning and risk getting caught on camera.
“Well, if it happened, that’s all I asked. You have a whole wing of the house to yourself and are a grown woman.”
“Yes, I’ve already been sullied by the atrocity of divorce?—”
“Daphne, I don’t think like that,” Mum said. “You always assume I am fanatical. Maybe I was close-minded with you and Davey. You were so young even then. But when Dahlia told us who she was, we realized we didn’t have all the answers. I don’t agree with everything the church does, alright? What worked in our marriage wouldn’t work in yours. Neither of us was saintly. I took time for so much introspection in your father’s last months. I got therapy, alright? And, darling… I wish you would, too.”
I looked out the window, shaking my head.
“Daphne, I have grown. I know it will take time for you to bloody well believe me. That’s fair, but I’m not here to judge you. Father Tony isn’t, either, sweetheart. You are welcome anytime at mass. I would love for you to go with me.”
I sighed. “Mother, I wasn’t even married in the church. You only want me to do this for you. I cannot take communion?—”
“I am aware,” Mum said. “But it gets lonely.”
“You aren’t lonely. I am lonely. Church won’t fix that.”
“Sweetheart, I am so lonely. I miss Daddy every day. I come home to a silent house and it feels so awful. I sit in a pew all alone. I know you have lives. And I know this situation doesn’t please you, but… I was hoping maybe I would get to know you again. You’ve changed. I want to know the grown-up Daphne. We were never close. You were your father’s child, but I need you, Daphne.”
She longed to connect. I forgot she could feel isolated. I had only seen her go, go, go after Dad died. Even when I wanted to lie in bed and cry, she was at the gym or seeing friends. But it was all a distraction. She did these things to occupy her time. It validated me to hear she wanted to see me—really see me.
“I will try,” I said. “Look, I know you say it’s chaotic, but I think I feel good enough to duck down to the store. I can make us some dinner, okay?”
“That would be nice,” Mum agreed. “I would like that.”
“And… about therapy,” I said. “You’re right. I do need to see someone. Dahlia and Lanie keep harping on me. They’re right. I didn’t know you were seeing someone. That’s a good thing, I guess. It’s brave, Mum.”
She smiled. “It’s smart, not brave. And as clever as you are, sweetheart, I am sure you will find the right person to talk to soon.”