A Map of the World - Jane Hamilton [13]
What had Claire said to me at breakfast, about wanting to die together, at the same time? I could think of any old thing in that lounge because the doctors would fix Lizzy and then we could go home. I had sometimes been on the verge of believing that Claire had had other lives, although I’m not anywhere near the sort who is prone to Tarot cards or herbal remedies, or astrological charts. Still, Claire more than her sister, knew things that I doubt anyone had taught her. She was quick to understand the natural order and the rules of society. It was tempting to think of her in foreign lands, with strange parents and an array of siblings, riding a camel down the avenue, speaking a language that is long since dead. I could think of anything, anything at all. Theresa always reported that the girls got along so well when they were at her house. I’m no good at mothering, I had said to myself, more often than I cared to admit. I didn’t feel that I had instincts to guide me. I liked Theresa’s children, of course I did, but I was always at a loss when I had them, our children and hers, four of them, together on Monday mornings. First one demanded a glass of milk, and then another, and then the next and the next, and then one of them spilled and the others followed. They’d want the modeling clay, and five minutes later the watercolors and a pretzel and more milk. They outnumbered me, and to tell them all no, and to listen to them carry on about their hunger and thirst was not worth it. I poured the milk. I told myself on those Mondays that I wouldn’t look at the clock. I tried to build a beautiful and impressive structure out of blocks, but one of them would smash the tower and trip and bump her head and need a Band-Aid, and then her blanket, which couldn’t be found in the mess. In the end there the five of us were, glazed, licking our wounds in front of the television.
The doctor would come through the door soon, I knew, and tell me that Lizzy was drinking a bit of broth, that she was tired and ready to go home. He might ask me if the parents had been notified, or if it wasn’t easier for me to take her back, drop her at Vermont Acres. The trip to the hospital wouldn’t amount to anything more than an outing. The brain, with its folds and wrinkles, its inscrutable network, as heavy as granite, was resilient. Lizzy hadn’t been missing for more than a heartbeat. It had seemed a long time, to be sure, but it probably hadn’t been more than a minute or two. Everything would be fine; I was sure it would be fine. The rescue squad and the emergency room would cost a fortune, but we would pay. Maybe Howard could ask his mother in just the right way, to lend us the money. Nellie was unpredictable at best, but if Howard could make her think something was her own idea she was often only too happy to write a generous check. We could have the hospital bill paid by the end of the month. Lizzy, understandably, wouldn’t want to come over to our house for a while. We couldn’t very well put a fence around the pond, so it was for the best if she stayed at home. Next year she would be able to follow directions and learn to swim enough to paddle, and blow bubbles under water.
I ducked, head to my knees, because I could hear someone running down the ramp in the section that had not yet been carpeted. Theresa’s white sandals with the small heels made a bright clacking noise. She and Dan were pounding down the ramp. When they hit the carpet the sound stopped. There wasn’t a trace for a minute. As they advanced I could hear the whisper of their exertion, and as they came closer I could make out the anguish in their breathlessness. They tore past me, to