The Birthing House

'Virginia Tech. School's fine, but these kids. These kids.'

'How's that?' Conrad didn't know if this was going somewhere or just small talk.

'I didn't like the boys she was hanging around with here in town. Wastrels, the lot of them. Only now, she's calling her mother every night. "Mommy, Josh is being a jerk. Mommy, Josh said it's normal to see other girls in college." You see where this is going.'

'Actually, I'm not sure--'

'I ever get my hands on this sapling Josh who's been sticking it to my daughter? He even thinks about coming to my house for one of his booty calls? I'll drive him down to the limestone quarry and only one of us is coming back.'

Conrad flinched. Steve was suddenly too close and smiling too widely.

'So, where's Nadia hiding?'

It came out so quickly that Conrad heard, where you hiding Nadia? But of course that was silly. If Steve really--

'She's not at your place, is she?' Steve glanced over Conrad's shoulder.

Conrad scoffed. 'No. Maybe she's out with friends?'

'What about Eddie? He been around?'

'She said he was calling her, trying to put the band back together. But I didn't get the impression they were exactly hot and heavy these days. I tried, but she told me to mind my own business, Steve.'

'Her parents are not going to be happy, Conrad.'

'She's twenty. It's not like she's a minor. Can't ground her, can they?'

Easy, 'Rad. This whole show is dry kindling and you're throwing lit matches.

'She's nineteen, and pregnant,' Steve said. 'And you obviously don't have children.'

'Nope, not yet.'

'Uh-huh. Well, if you ever want to, you might do well to tell Nadia to get her ass home before Big John returns. I've seen the man bend rebar with his bare hands.'

'Jesus.'

'Imagine what he'd do to your neck.'

'Eddie's neck,' Conrad corrected.

Steve nodded. I know, and you know I know.

'Good luck with your chores, Mr Harrison.'

'Night, Steve-O.'

Conrad went to the liquor cabinet and poured three fingers of warm silver rum. It tasted like rubbing alcohol and burned for five minutes while he checked the doors front and back, locking everything twice.

The night of Steve's visit, she began to feed herself and he watched her from the reading chair he had pulled into the room. He knew the big talk had arrived, and he waited for her to go first. Her voice was strong and clear, almost professional.

'I feel much better now. But I think I should see how bad it is.' She reached for the bandage.

'No, no, don't. It's superficial, but it needs more time to close up.' He patted her hand. 'I was very worried about you. You're lucky Eddie was a bad shot.'

'Did you call my parents?'

'No. Should I have?'

She licked her lips. 'Where's Eddie?'

'You don't remember?'

She just stared at him. He considered what to tell her. If she knew the truth, she would probably panic and ask him to call the police. And she might never forgive him.

'It was bad, Nadia. I wasn't thinking straight. I was worried about you.'

'Did he run away?'

'No.'

'What happened?'

'There was a fight. He had the gun in his hand. I didn't . . .' He couldn't finish.

'Is he dead?'

'Yes.'

'You just left him there?' She didn't sound angry, just stunned.

'I had to take care of you first. I should have called an ambulance, but I didn't want it to . . . we were there, but it was Eddie's fault.'

She was crying soundlessly.

'Tell me what to do,' he said. 'I'll do whatever you want me to do.'

Nadia closed her eyes.

'He left his suicide note on your phone, Nadia. He shot himself in the head on your voicemail. You thought he was dead.' She squeezed her eyes together. 'We tried to help. Now he is. Dead. I'm sorry.'

After a long while, as if trying it out, she said, 'We were never there.'

'I think that is the best way. Don't you?'

'Will you leave me alone now?'

'I don't think--'

'I need to be alone.'

He stood in the baby's room and listened to her crying through the wall.

Later the same night, after she woke up and he fetched her another glass of water, she seemed to have improved physically but lost something mentally. She was drained, sinking into this quicksand he had accumulated for her.

'Do you have a plan?' she said.

'I'm working on it.'

'Someone's going to find him, if they haven't already.'

'You said he lives alone,' Conrad said. 'Right?'

'How long has he . . .' She could not finish.

'A day and a half,' Conrad said. 'If they found him, they'd be here by now. We need to get our story straight.'

'Our story? Are we going to jail? Are they going to take my baby?'

'Hey, hey. Easy. I would never allow that.'

She was crying again, without even changing her expression. This frightened him more than if she had been sobbing.

'Nadia, we can do this. If you still want me, I will see it through to the end.'

'Your wife is pregnant. Don't act like a hero when all you want is to throw your life away, too.' She coughed. 'My parents are coming home in two days and then this shit is going to be the next local scandal. If you want to help me, it's time to make it real.'

'I'm trying,' he said. 'I will.'

'Maybe I'm being punished. Do you think I'm one of them, too? One of the women who runs away but keeps coming back?'

'Like the women in the photo?' he said.

'Like the women with nowhere else to go.'

'No.' But it had crossed his mind.

'Do you think if we stay -' she coughed '- it can be different this time?'

'Yes.'

'What about Eddie?'

'Eddie let you down. I will never let you down.'

He held her, and watched her cry until she fell asleep.

When he woke later he had no idea if it was the same night or the next night, but it was still very much night. The room was pitch-black. Nadia was sitting up in bed, staring at the wall. She was speaking to someone. Repeating something.

'. . . a young girl's heart', he heard her say.

Conrad turned on a lamp. 'What? Nadia?'

Nothing in her expression had changed, but her eyes were different. Flat. Dead. And when she spoke, her voice came out the same way, as if under someone or something else's influence. The voice was jilted, old and sore.

'Thread through a needle cannot mend a young girl's heart.'

30

Conrad moved around the bed to be in front of her, to see if she could see him. She stared right through him. She was flesh and bones - alive, but not aware.

'What does that mean, Nadia?'

'Thread through a needle cannot mend a young girl's heart.'

She had not blinked. Her eyes were watery, their pupils big as nickels.

'Nadia, can you hear me?'

She did not respond.

'What happened? Is there someone here in the house?'

Nothing.

'Is there something in the house?'

He moved from the bed to the chair, afraid to be close to her.

'Nadia, what thread through a needle? What's that?'

Her head rotated slowly, stiffly, her chin tucked and her eyes averted. It was not her voice that answered. Her words came awkwardly, her sentences strung out.

'Try take ohmma bay-bay way.'

'Who?' He went rigid in his chair. 'Who took all your baby away?'

'Man.'

'Man? What man?' He heard Roddy's voice in his head, the reference to 'the good doctor'. 'Do you mean the doctor? The doctor who lived here?'

'Was no docca no mine what he say.'

'Who was he?'

'First he take all-ma mothers and women runsaway. Then she growed up and he took the insides away. Then he bury'm others and took 'em behbee away.'