Chapter 5
As Alice rubbed her eyes with the backs of her hands, she could feel last night’s mascara smearing over her cheeks.
The inside of her mouth was rough and dry.
Water , I need water. She sat up, and a full glass of water stood on her nightstand.
Did she fill that in the middle of the night and place it there? Did Luna?
She couldn’t remember the last time she had eaten—sixteen hours ago? More? Gingerly, she walked to the kitchen, her hands on the walls to steady herself. “It’s too sunny,” she muttered to herself. “Fucking spring.”
Alice made coffee, found a stale piece of cake in a container in the fridge, and stood at the sink, listening to the hiss of the percolator beside her.
Without even looking, she reached for the sugar bowl that was usually out on the counter—several cups of coffee a day meant that there was no point in putting it away—but her hand closed around nothing but air.
She squinted. The counters were clear, shiny even, as if they had been cleaned with hot soapy water.
Alice pulled open the cupboard door. There was the sugar, nestled between the salt and honey.
The cumin, the dried thyme, the bay leaves.
All the jars were lined up neatly, labels facing out.
In the fridge, the milk was on the shelf in the door, right beside the orange juice.
She could see into the crisper drawers and identify all their contents.
Apples, celery, broccoli, grapes. No sticky spots, no streaks on the glass shelves.
Alice combed through her brain for the right memory, that moment when she might have deep-cleaned her kitchen.
Maybe after she poured a shot of Irish cream in her afternoon coffee yesterday?
Maybe she had done it so quickly she had forgotten?
She walked by Luna’s bedroom, its door ajar, her sleeping body buried under blankets.
No clothes on the floor, no books lining the edges of her bed, open and face down, their spines cracked.
The drawers of her dresser were all closed tight, not cracked open with sleeves and socks spilling out like tongues.
In Luca’s room, his chair was tucked neatly into his desk, the cords for his laptop and other devices curled in a circle on the floor by the power bar.
She gazed at his face, his scrawny limbs on top of the covers. Even his hair seemed combed.
Alice opened the front door and there, on the stoop, stood six boxes in two piles, waiting for the courier.
The orders had come in last night, a Thursday, just after nine, while she was packing the overnight bags for the kids.
She had cursed then, because she knew she wouldn’t have time to fill them before the week was over.
But there they were, perfectly packed, neatly waiting to be shipped to Toronto, Houston, Fort McMurray.
Alice ran her finger over the pink packing tape, smooth and straight.
Alice heard steps and turned around. Pinky emerged from the side path, her work bag slung across her body.
“Good morning,” Pinky called out, waving to Alice from the lawn.
Alice stepped down off the step and onto the path. “Did you hear anything last night in the basement? I don’t remember packing these boxes.”
Pinky stopped and squinted back toward the house. “Actually, I thought I heard you working this morning, before the sun came up. I thought it was a little weird, but then sometimes you like to get going early.”
Sometimes Alice hurried down to the basement office and storage space to fill pressing orders before she made breakfast and packed lunches.
She had always tried to do it quietly, acutely aware that there was only drywall separating the shelves of cloth diapers from where Pinky slept.
Maybe she had woken up in the middle of the night and begun working to fill the emptiness that always descended when she was left alone in the dark.
Idle hands are the devil’s workshop , except it was more like, Lonely drunk mom with mild depression just keeps working .
Alice shook her head to try to clear the messy confusion.
“That’s weird. I don’t remember a thing.”
Pinky tilted her head to the side and said softly, “Well, you have been drinking a lot. It doesn’t surprise me that you don’t remember.”
Alice ran her hands over her face. “Why does everyone keep saying the same fucking thing?”
“It’s okay, Alice. I understand. Life can get hard sometimes.
None of us is perfect.” Pinky looked at her watch, and Alice knew she was itching to go and leave this conversation behind.
“Anyway, I have to go. My bus is coming soon. Have a good day.” And she hurried toward Fraser Street, her flat booties hitting the sidewalk with purpose.
Alice was desperate. She wanted to talk to someone, anyone really, who would just talk, so Alice could think outside of herself.
She walked slowly back into the house and stared at her phone as she dialled her mother, the only person she could think of who would always pick up no matter when or why she was calling.
“Yes? Why are you calling me so early in the morning?” Judy’s voice crackled, the background noise indistinct but still loud.
“I love you, too, Mom,” Alice said, rolling her eyes.
“Sure, sure. Do you need something or what?”
“Actually no. I was just calling to see how you’re doing, that’s all. Silly me.” Alice pulled a polished glass out of the cupboard and filled it from the sink. Even the water tasted cleaner.
“I am very busy, as usual. I am getting a big house ready for showing this week. You know, one of those pink stucco things in Marpole. No one likes those kinds of houses anymore, but maybe we’ll get some new money people from mainland China or something. Those people have no taste.”
“Mom, I don’t think you can say things like that anymore. You’ll get cancelled.”
Judy snorted. “I am only talking to you, not the New York Times . Are you going to cancel me?” Alice laughed into the phone and Judy continued. “Anyway, the house is very ugly, so it’s a big job, but this is how I make the big money. How is spring break?”
“You know. The kids are doing whatever they want. I’m too busy. What else is new?”
“You should get that Pinky woman to do more.”
Alice sighed. “She doesn’t really work for me anymore. You know that. She just helps me out on Thursdays.” This phone call, Alice realized, may not have been a good idea.
“What? Even three hours of cleaning on one day can do a lot. Is she just hanging around?”
Just then, Alice heard a woman’s voice calling Judy’s full name in the background and the ringing of a landline. “Where are you? Are you at a doctor’s office?”
“No. Just a minute.” Judy’s voice became muffled, as if she was covering the phone with her hand. “Yes, I am here.”
“Mom? Is something wrong? Are you okay?” It had never occurred to Alice that Judy could be sick, that she might grow old. It was ridiculous and irrational and yet here she was, surprised and starting to panic.
“No, no, I’m fine. I just have to go to a meeting. Okay, nice chat! Bye!” And then she hung up.
Alice leaned against the counter, the edge digging into her tailbone.
All her life, she had been replaying her father’s death in her mind, without noticing that her mother was growing older.
It was always Judy who pushed her to finish her homework, who marched into parent-teacher conferences with a list of issues to address, who, when she wasn’t working, tried to get Alice to go with her to a women’s-only gym.
“You need to move,” she shouted, pulling blankets off Alice’s body.
“Come on. You can use the rowing machine!” Half an hour later, Judy was striding toward the elliptical machine in pink spandex and full makeup, looking no older than the university girls sweating in the step aerobics class.
It was probably nothing, just a Pap smear or a routine mammogram.
Alice placed her own hand over her heart and felt the beat of it, steady and consistent.
Judy was her mother, the person who had carried, birthed, and parented her, who had done most of it alone.
If Alice’s heart was strong, then her mother’s had to be too.
They were once the same person, or two people using the same body.
Surely, they shared the same health, the same trajectory of life.
Alice opened the back door and sat down on the step, her glass of water in her hand, the silent house behind her.
A headache was bouncing in her head, inexorable and loud.
This must be the worst hangover of all time , Alice thought.
It made me work and then wiped my brain clean .
An unseen crow called out into the morning air, the lonely caw echoing and echoing down the alley.
What a disappointment if she was the only creature who could hear that call, hear that longing as the sun rose up over the rooftops.
“If we could,” she muttered, “we would be friends.” She waited until the crow cawed again before she went back inside.