The slamming door haunted my dreams, hunting me through mad landscapes and never allowing me any respite. I slept in short spates between gasping, sweaty periods of wakefulness that were tainted with guilt.
In the morning I avoided making eye contact with anyone except Annie. I didn’t want to see the questions and accusations. I let the others go out and handle clearing the houses, and feeding the pig.
Molly and Jason made several trips out and I put together an uninspired lunch of crackers, butter and vegetable beef soup.
I spent most of the day playing with Annie. Helping her learn where to put her feet when she walked, and singing the ABC’s song to her.
Her eyes had darkened to a dark blue that was nearly black in the last few months and they looked huge in her tiny face while she stared at my face and moved her lips, trying to talk.
I figured she was probably about 8 months old. Maybe older, or younger by a few weeks. It was hard to tell. And my memory of time was so fuzzy I honestly didn’t even know if we were into the next year yet.
The next year. A year where the people in Times Square weren’t waiting for a ball to drop. A year that no one would celebrate the coming or going of. A year that no new books would be written, no new paintings painted, no new songs sung.
My heart felt so leaden and shriveled that I would have ‘given my gun a blowjob’ (one of my uncles favorite phrases) if Annie hadn’t been there. I knew there was something wrong with me. I just didn’t know what it was. People shouldn’t be as uncaring as I had become. My emotions were stunted stingy things now. And I thought that maybe my baby girl was the only thing that kept me sane.
If I was still sane. I didn’t feel crazy. But maybe I was anyway. While Annie tottered around clutching my hands and trying to sing her ABCs along with me the thought that maybe I really had gone crazy chased its own tail around my brain.
I tried, halfheartedly, to think about other things, but one worry or horrific image skittered through my mind after another.
It was impossible to think about the future.
There had to be something wrong me. The others saw a future filled with new plants and some semblance of hope, and I saw a future filled with ashes and the bones of the dead.
I had killed a man. And then hurt another man so badly that he took off alone. And even though I knew he would die out there, I wasn’t able to summon up any regret.
I felt a little bad sure, but not bad enough that I wouldn’t have done it any differently if I were given the chance. Guilt filled me, not about what I had, or hadn’t done. But about what I couldn’t feel.
I spent all day with my girl and occupied myself with little domestic chores that I usually put off as long as I could. But no amount of everyday chores could pull me out of my funk.
The fourth time Molly and Jason returned to the warehouse with a load of stuff they stayed, and built a small pen for the pig while I held the cat for Annie to touch.
They didn’t speak to me while we ate; they were silent all night long. No goodnights were exchanged when we all went to bed. I kept Annie in the bed with me for the first time that night.
When I woke up sometime in the dim gray hours before dawn Molly was already up, making hot cocoa again. She glanced at me and picked up a second cup, filling it and handing it to me without a word.
We sat quietly at the table staring into our cups as if they held all the answers within them.
Molly broke the silence first.
“OK Liz, enough. What happened between you and Billy?” Her eyes roamed my face with a palpable inquiry.
“I told him I didn’t love him” I shrugged. “He got mad and left.”
“That’s bullshit.” Her voice was quiet and sure.
“Then you tell me. You know so fucking much you tell me what the fuck happened.” I met her eyes for the first time in over a day and was completely undone by the soft concern they held.
She said something that I couldn’t hear over my own sobs. I leaned into her when she got up and wrapped her arms around me, sobbing out my confusion and emptiness. I let her rock me back and forth like a small child and cried until everything hurt.
“Ssssh Ssssh. It’s ok baby, it’s gonna be ok. You’re gonna be ok.” Molly’s lips moved against the crown of my head, but I didn’t believe her.
“Sometimes, when someone has been through a lot, they can’t…deal with all at once. That’s all it is sweetie. You’re not crazy, you’re just…hurting.”
Had I told her? Had I told her what I was so afraid of while she was holding me? I couldn’t remember. And that scared me even more.
I must have said something because she pulled away from me a bit and gripped my shoulders, her strong hands shaking me a little bit.
“Liz, you are going to be ok. I promise. What you’re feeling is normal. You are just a kid. Stop trying so hard, you’re not alone. We’ll take of you. I promise!”
She pulled me back into her arms and I knew she didn’t understand.