In the First Early Days of My Death (8 page)

When she sat in the hospital room, watching Wendy's chest rise and fall with the mechanical rhythm of the respirator, Noni couldn't feel Wendy's spirit at all. She could only sense it if she was all alone
 — 
like that first day in the cafeteria
, 
when she felt Wendy so close beside her she imagined her breath on her neck. Or when she heard the low moaning at the window — summer wind, she told herself, she should buy weatherstripping. But she knew the summer wind didn't sound like that, not unless there was a storm. And there had been no storms since the night that Wendy fell. At these times, Noni feared her sister-in-law had left her body. Had passed on.

Sometimes, early in the morning, Noni dreamed that Wendy was standing at the foot of her bed. Often the dream was so vivid it terrified her, and she woke trembling. One night she rented the movie
Hamlet
and afterwards dreamed that Wendy was spurring her on to avenge her death. Even after waking, Noni found it hard to shake the eerie sensation that Wendy was present in her apartment. She could hear Wendy's voice in her head, whispering urgently, but she couldn't make out the words.

Was there anything to avenge?

Detective Delano seemed to think so. He came to the hospital and questioned Noni about her brother and his marriage to Wendy. Noni answered truthfully. Her brother was a gentle man, he loved his wife, they all loved her.

He assured Noni that the questions were routine. It was just that it seemed unlikely, he said carefully, that Wendy's fall had been an accident. He had examined the scene and doubted she could have tripped in the first place, he said, let alone fallen with such force, even if she'd been unconscious. He suspected Wendy had been pushed from behind, probably by a burglar.

Noni said she didn't think anything had been stolen from the house. Alika hadn't mentioned that anything was missing.

“Then is there anyone you can think of who might have wanted to hurt her?” he asked. “Anyone at all?”

Noni started to shake her head. Then she remembered.

Almost as soon as Evelyn James opened her door for him, Felix decided that she was probably innocent. She was tiny, for one thing, not strong enough to have committed such an assault. And it seemed she knew nothing of Wendy's fall or her coma. When Felix told her about it, she placed both hands over her mouth and stared at him with wide eyes, while the blood drained from her face. Felix thought she was going to faint.

But he still had to question her. Noni had told him about the stocking, along with some crazy theory about Evelyn breaking in and leaving it there. If Alika had his wife and his sister believing that, he was a pretty slick liar.

“Sit down, sit down,” he said. He ushered Evelyn into her own kitchen. A pot of tea sat on the table and a full cup steamed beside it. Felix guided her into a chair. “Drink your tea,” he said. “It'll do you good.”

She drank the tea, holding the cup with two shaking hands.

“When did this happen?” she managed to ask.

“Last Thursday. August twenty-first.”

Evelyn lost her grip on the cup and it crashed down into the saucer.

Felix pulled out a chair for himself.

“Would you like some tea?” she asked. “The cups are behind you, there, on those hooks.”

He reached up and took one. “Thanks. Do you have milk?” He moved toward the refrigerator, but Evelyn jumped up and stood in front of it, blocking his way.

“I'll get it,” she said. She poured the milk from the carton into a tiny pitcher and set it on the table.

“Did you see Wendy on the twenty-first?” Felix asked.

“I haven't seen her for months.”

“You haven't visited her house?”

“No!”

“Where were you that night?”

Evelyn glanced at the calendar on the wall. Thursday the twenty-first was marked with a circle to represent the full moon. “I worked the late shift until eleven and then I came home to bed.”

“Alone?”

“Yes.”

“What were you doing? Watching television?”

“I don't remember.”

“Did you talk to anyone that night, on the phone, maybe?”

“I don't remember.” Her voice had dropped to a whisper.

Felix looked hard at the girl's pale face. She was definitely shocked by this news. Even if she was having an affair with the husband, she honestly didn't seem to have a clue about Wendy's fall.

“How is Alika taking it?” she asked.

“Not very well,” said Felix.

Alika stood at the living room window, watching the empty street. He often stood staring at nothing, and sometimes I used to stand behind him, trying to see what he was looking at.

I could never tell, especially when he was taking pictures. He'd hold the camera to his eye, look at the world through that one hole. What did he see?

This morning, he had dressed carelessly. His collar buttons were crooked, and I wanted to reach out and put them right. I wondered if he'd misbuttoned his shirt all the way down, and I moved closer to the window, trying to see his whole body. I pushed up close against the glass and then I found myself inside the house. I was right there in the living room with him. I was back!

“Alika,” I said. “I'm home.” But he didn't believe me. He placed his right palm against the pane and leaned forward, gazing across the lawn, as if he were looking for me, waiting for me to return.

I pressed myself against his chest, the way I'd pressed against the window glass, but I could not enter him. I had never been able to enter him fully.

The pile of clothing next to Noni's sewing machine remained untouched. She couldn't face it yet. Like Alika, she was finding it hard to focus on the details of her regular routine. Gino had granted Alika a leave of absence from the studio, but Noni had no one to give her time off. Her work just sat there — bundles of torn dress shirts, jeans that wanted hemming, skirts that needed letting in or letting out. This morning, Noni barely glanced at them. She'd spent the night at Alika's house and this morning she'd come home only to shower and change while her mother shopped for groceries. Then they were going back to Alika's for brunch. Rosa was determined to keep on cooking. As if cooking would help. That's what people did during disasters.

Alika seemed relieved to see them. Noni couldn't tell what he'd been doing before they arrived, but he certainly hadn't made any preparations for brunch. Rosa set to work cracking and beating the eggs, while Noni washed dishes and set the table. The kitchen was small and they bumped into each other as they worked. Still, the room seemed empty without Wendy. The whole scene felt artificial. Rosa chatted with forced cheer, suggesting that Alika pick some flowers from the garden. They would take a bouquet to Wendy this morning, she said. It had been a week, now. Surely Wendy would wake up today. Alika looked out at the garden. He made no move to go outside.

Rosa whipped up a mushroom omelette and served it with toast and jam. Nobody ate much, not even Rosa, though she made a pretense, pushing the food about on her plate. After an interminable silence, she rose and began to gather the plates. She briskly washed and rinsed them, scoured the pan, wiped the counter. Noni remained at the table, beside Alika. She tried to catch his eye, but he wouldn't turn away from the window. She reached out and pressed his hand. He responded with a slight, distracted pressure.

“You need to take out the garbage,” Rosa told her son.

He didn't move.

“Alika,” warned Rosa. “I'm talking to you.”

“It can wait, Mum,” said Noni gently. “The trucks don't come until tomorrow.”

Rosa lifted the bag from the trash pail, twisted it shut, and held it toward her son. “They might come early,” she said.

Noni sighed. She took the bag and carried it through the garden. She dumped it in the can and placed the lid on firmly, to keep the dogs away during the night.

The storm clouds that had gathered the night before had blown over before it rained, and the garden was dry. Noni stopped to run her hand through the long stems of the poppies. They were long past blooming now, and their seed pods rattled in the morning breeze. She ripped one from its stem and held it in her hand. She could feel how frail it was, and it made her angry. She crushed it to powder.

The wind was gathering strength. It moaned through the neighbour's elm trees, causing the leaves to murmur with the cadence of a human voice. Noni shuddered.

As she hurried back toward the house, she heard the grinding gears of a city garbage truck as it turned into the lane.

I could see Noni out in the back lane. She was bending over the tall stalks of the poppies, examining their round seed husks. She plucked one and crumbled it between her fingers, letting the half-formed seeds fall to the ground.

“Noni,” I said, and she looked up.

“They're not ready yet,” I told her. “Wait for the fall.”

She turned away from me then and started toward the house, the wind whipping her short, dark hair across her face.

“Wait!” I called, but this only seemed to make her move faster. She limped quickly, awkwardly, up the back steps and then paused for a minute, listening nervously, before she went into the house.

I didn't want to scare Noni, but I missed her. She was the only one who would understand about Evelyn. And she was a good friend, a sister. My only sister. I'd had a few foster sisters and brothers along the way, but they were always coming and going. I'd learned pretty early that it wasn't wise to get too close to them. One or another of them was always getting returned to their real parents. I knew that was never going to happen to me. My real parents had given me away. The trouble was, they hadn't given me to anyone. I was sort of adrift.

So I had given myself to Alika and his family. I'd thought it was safe. But after one short year, Evelyn had taken me away from them.