Look Closely - Laura Caldwell [103]
She lay there, her body curved, her head slightly cocked to one side.
Caroline and I rushed down the stairs. Her eyes were closed, and she wasn’t moving.
“Oh, no! Mom!” Caroline shook her, then raised her hands away from her body, as if maybe she shouldn’t do that. “Mom, can you hear us?”
The grandfather clock in the drawing room began seven long chimes that seemed to echo through the house.
Caroline poked her in the shoulder with a finger. “Mom. Please wake up. Please be okay.”
I stood up and moved a foot away, scared to touch her, scared of hurting her again.
Caroline looked over her shoulder at me, her eyes large and alarmed.
We heard her moaning, and Caroline hunched over her again. “Mom, Mom. Can you hear me?”
My mother’s eyes fluttered open, an expression of bewilderment. Slowly, slowly, she pushed herself up on her hands, and glanced down as if surprised to find herself in the fancy clothes. Then she looked at me.
“I’m sorry,” I said. My voice was so small I didn’t know if anyone could hear me.
“I’m fine,” she said, but she held a hand to the back of her head and winced.
“Are you sure?” Caroline said.
She nodded.
The bell rang then. Whoever had been honking must have come to the door.
My mother looked at her watch. It seemed to take her a long time to read it. “You girls go upstairs.”
“I’ll get the door,” Caroline said, moving toward it.
“No.” She held both hands to her head now, flinching as she touched her scalp. She was quiet, her breath coming through her open mouth in short bursts. “I’m not going anywhere tonight. Now go upstairs and wait for me.” Her voice seemed to catch on her last few words.
Caroline hesitated, but my mother gestured with a sluggish throw of her arm. “It’s all right,” she said again. “Go on.”
Caroline took me by the hand and led me back up the stairs. We both stopped at the landing and looked down. My mother struggled to stand. She sank once back onto the marble, but the next time she was able to right herself. She walked slowly, oddly, holding the back of her head with her right hand until she was standing in the doorway, opening it, blocking it, it seemed. Her hand was at her head still, and she was talking softly to someone. The other voice was lower, much lower than my mom’s.
“Let’s go in your room,” Caroline whispered in my ear.
I shook my head no, and so we stood there on the landing, peering around the post, Caroline’s hand on my shoulder. And just then, I saw a hand appear on my mother’s shoulder, as well. Large and tanned. Not my father’s hand, but definitely that of a man.
Their voices rose for a second, and I heard my mother say, “Not now.” I heard the rumble of a man’s voice, but couldn’t make out his words. “No!” my mother suddenly cried out, her voice perfectly clear. “Why? Why?” and then “No! That’s not true!”
Something glittered then, reflecting off the porch light. I narrowed my eyes and saw that it was a ring on the man’s hand. A gold ring with an oval face, something black set into the gold in the shape of a diamond. I stared at that ring, at the hand on my mother’s shoulder, but then my mother swayed and nearly fell. The man caught her, and I saw the back of his dark hair bending over her. She righted herself. The man kept talking, whispering, my mother shaking her head no, her shoulders shuddering. Finally, she closed the door.
She leaned with her back to the door, her head bent. I heard her whimpering.
She raised her tear-streaked face and saw us on the stairs. “Hailey, come help me to bed.”
I ran down the stairs as fast as I could and