Read The Sabbathday River Online
Authors: Jean Hanff Korelitz
The Sabbathday River (26 page)
Heather, desperate to finish, nodded quickly. “She never moved. She didn't cry. I'm not a doctor or anything, but I know she was dead! Polly cried right away. Babies cry! But this one just ⦠she never.” She glared up at them both through her tears. “She was just dead! I couldn't do anything about it.”
“What
did
you do?” asked Erroll softly.
did
you do?” asked Erroll softly.
“I stood up. I ⦠That other part came out, too. I felt really dizzy, like I was going to faint. I wanted to go back up to the house. I was afraid of fainting out in the field. I was afraid Polly would wake up and call and I wouldn't come.”
Like the other time
, she wanted to explain,
but couldn't. Like the time Polly had called and wept all day, pleading for the dead to return and comfort her. “So I went back. I went on my hands and knees for a bit. Then I got up. I walked up. I got back to the house and I got back into bed. I couldn't think about what ⦔ She shook her head. “Because she was dead. I couldn't help her anyway. And I couldn't stay awake. When I woke up, there was so much blood on the sheets. The mattress, too. I didn't know what to do. I had to take care of Polly.”
Like the other time
, she wanted to explain,
but couldn't. Like the time Polly had called and wept all day, pleading for the dead to return and comfort her. “So I went back. I went on my hands and knees for a bit. Then I got up. I walked up. I got back to the house and I got back into bed. I couldn't think about what ⦔ She shook her head. “Because she was dead. I couldn't help her anyway. And I couldn't stay awake. When I woke up, there was so much blood on the sheets. The mattress, too. I didn't know what to do. I had to take care of Polly.”
“And did you?” Erroll said. “Is that what happened?”
“I took care of her. I got breakfast for her. I rolled up a towel and put it in my underpants. I tried to eat some stuff, but I kept throwing up. It was like that all day.”
“What happened then?” Erroll said.
“I put Polly down for her nap in the afternoon. About two. That's the time she usually goes, anyway. And I tried to sleep, too. On the couch downstairs. But I kept thinking of it out there. I couldn't remember so much about what happened. I thought maybe none of it had really happened. I mean, I knew something, but I couldn't be sure.”
“So you went out?” Erroll said helpfully.
“Yes. I walked out. It was warm again. I went down to the pond.” She started to cry again. She swatted at her eyes. “I saw it on the ground. I saw it was a girl. That's the first time I knew it was a girl. It had”âHeather swallowedâ“this shiny thing over it. It was all gray. And there were some flies. I couldn't stand that. I didn't want flies.”
Erroll nodded. Charter had his head down.
“I thought I should bury it. I kept thinking of that phrase âproper burial.' I didn't know what that meant. I'm not sure I know what it means now. What's proper about putting something in the ground? Just, you know, digging a hole and putting it down there? I didn't think I'd feel any better if I did that.”
“And that's what you were trying to do?” Charter said, a little caustically. “Feel better?”
“No, I ⦠well, I don't know. Maybe,” said Heather. She took a breath. There wasn't much more. “So then I just ⦠My eye sort of fell on the pond. It was right there. It was so dark. You couldn't even see into it. And the mud on the bottom was really soft. I remembered from when I was a kid, I used to get all mucked up in it on really hot days, and the mud in between my toes.” She felt abruptly embarrassed
by this, as if it were, in a way, even more intimate than the other things she had said. “It was ⦠it seemed as if it was just like the ground in a way, but it was right there, and I wouldn't have to carry ⦔ She looked helplessly at them.
by this, as if it were, in a way, even more intimate than the other things she had said. “It was ⦠it seemed as if it was just like the ground in a way, but it was right there, and I wouldn't have to carry ⦔ She looked helplessly at them.
Charter had stopped writing. He stared at her in distaste. “What are you saying?” His voice was soft but fierce. “Are you saying you put your baby's body into this pond? And left it there?”
She nodded eagerly. She felt the weight lift, she wouldn't have to say any more. There wasn't any more to say.
“And this is your statement?”
“My ⦠? It's what happened,” Heather said. “It's where I put it. It's still there.”
“I thought,” Charter shook his head, “you weren't going to lie to us anymore. I thought we had reached an understanding, Miss Pratt.”
“I don't know what you mean. I've told you.”
“And your baby daughter”âhe seethedâ“then rose of her own accord, fell once upon a sharp object, and crossed half a field to drop herself into the Sabbathday River.”
There was a shriek inside her head. It kept getting in the way of things people were saying in the real world, messing up the meaning of their words. She just couldn't understand him. She just couldn't understand what he was saying to her.
“I'll show you,” Heather offered.
He had turned his shoulder to her, like an indignant classmate, circa fourth grade. He had turned and was pouting at the door when she called him back.
“Show me what?” Charter barked.
“The baby. My baby. I'll show you.”
He was silent. Heather got unsteadily to her feet. “Come on. Let's go now.
“It won't work,” he said. “Just save yourself the trouble.”
“But it's there,” she insisted. “I know it is. I checked. When Naomi told me about ⦠well, what she found. I knew it wasn't mine. I mean, how could mine have gotten into the river? I knew it wasn't mine, but I had to check, anyway. Wouldn't you have checked?”
He seemed disinclined to answer this.
“I went down with my flashlight. I felt in the water. I touched it. She was there.”
She stared at them.
“I touched her!”
Charter shook his head. He seemed amazed by her.
“I never stabbed my baby! She was already dead!”
“Maybe you wanted to make sure,” he said quietly.
“
What?
”
What?
”
“Well, you were pretty sure she was dead. But you just wanted to make sure. Is that possible?”
Possible? Heather thought. It was crazy. Why would anybody stab a dead baby?
“You see,” he said, almost kindly, “if you did that, you could be sure it was dead, in a way you couldn't be sure just by, say, leaving it on the ground. Yes?”
Yes? Heather thought. Yes to what?
“And you wanted to be sure, didn't you? That's why you went back to look, wasn't it? You couldn't stand that little chance that you were wrong and your baby daughter was just lying there in the grass, crying out for you?”
She nodded, through hot tears. This was, after all, so absolutely true.
“And maybe when you went down to see the baby you took something sharp with you. Just to make sure. Since it probably wouldn't hurt her, because she was probably dead already. And you could rest easy afterward.”
“No, that'sâ”
“Let me finish. And the baby seemed dead to you. Though, as you said yourself, you're not a doctor or anything, so it's not like you could be absolutely sure. But one little poke, just to settle the question. And then this baby you never really lovedânot like you love your daughter, your little girl who you were pregnant with at the same time you had your boyfriend keeping you company all the timeâthis baby you never told anybody about and nobody would ever miss, would just sort of go away. I can certainly understand why you felt that way.”
She had no words. She shook her head.
“And then when you were finished, maybe you did put the body somewhere. But not in that pond, I don't think. Because you didn't really want it so close to your house, did you? You sure didn't want to look out your window and see that pond and have to think about what was inside it. You wouldn't want your daughter to go out and play there,
just like you played there when you were a little girl, and put her toes down there into all that soft mud and feel the bodyâ”
just like you played there when you were a little girl, and put her toes down there into all that soft mud and feel the bodyâ”
“No!” Heather screamed. “Don't say that!”
“So I
understand
why you wouldn't want to leave it there,” he said, as if stating the obvious. “It's what I would feel, too. And I'll tell you, if it were me, I would want to put it pretty far away. At least as far as the river. Yes?” He looked for confirmation, but went on without it. “I'd take it straight to the river, is what I'd do. Because the river would take it away, wouldn't it? The river would take your baby downstream and away from your life and your daughter's life, and you wouldn't have to think about it again.” He sighed, contemplative. “That must have felt wonderful to you.”
understand
why you wouldn't want to leave it there,” he said, as if stating the obvious. “It's what I would feel, too. And I'll tell you, if it were me, I would want to put it pretty far away. At least as far as the river. Yes?” He looked for confirmation, but went on without it. “I'd take it straight to the river, is what I'd do. Because the river would take it away, wouldn't it? The river would take your baby downstream and away from your life and your daughter's life, and you wouldn't have to think about it again.” He sighed, contemplative. “That must have felt wonderful to you.”
Heather shook her head. She was weeping openly now, messy and loud. She no longer had the strength to wipe her face.
“Could I ⦔ She trailed off.
“Yes?” Erroll said.
“Could I
please,”
she sobbed, “just take you out? I'll
show
you. I put the baby into the pool. It's stillâ”
please,”
she sobbed, “just take you out? I'll
show
you. I put the baby into the pool. It's stillâ”
“But why?” Charter said wearily. “Aren't you tired? Aren't you tired of all this?”
She was. So tired.
“Heather,” he spoke in yet another voice, “I have to tell you something. I admire you. And I know you've been through a lot, and without any help. Know you're smart, too. I heard you'd been to college, and I can see why. But this won't go away just from your being strong. Can I explain this to you?”
She looked up, her face streaked and running.
“I know what you're thinking,” Charter said. His fingers were interlaced. He had put his pen aside. “You're thinking, I can get through this. You're thinking if you answer my questions right, you can somehow find your way through this night and this problem we have, and you'll get to leave here and go back to your life. But you won't. It isn't going to be like that. Your life is going to be different from now on, no matter what happens in this room. No matter”âhe put up his fingers like quotation marksâ“how you
do
.” He gazed at her steadily. “You can't think about getting back to your old life now. It's gone.”
do
.” He gazed at her steadily. “You can't think about getting back to your old life now. It's gone.”
He paused. They all listened to her weep.
“Also, you can't stay here. Well, we can't stay here forever, you know
that. We're all tired, and we need to have progress. I only interrogate a witness once. I can't just keep coming back to you and waiting for you to do this right. You have to do it right this time, Heather.” He looked at her. “So we can't go back and we can't stay here.” He shrugged. “You see, this isn't really very complicated, because what I'm saying isn't the same thing as saying your life is over. Your life, Heather, is far from over. You can have a long life, and a good life. It just isn't going to be the same life you had before. Your job now is to go forward.”
that. We're all tired, and we need to have progress. I only interrogate a witness once. I can't just keep coming back to you and waiting for you to do this right. You have to do it right this time, Heather.” He looked at her. “So we can't go back and we can't stay here.” He shrugged. “You see, this isn't really very complicated, because what I'm saying isn't the same thing as saying your life is over. Your life, Heather, is far from over. You can have a long life, and a good life. It just isn't going to be the same life you had before. Your job now is to go forward.”
“How?” she stumbled. “How am I supposed to do that?”
“Well, think about it. Your baby is dead. Nothing's going to bring her back. And people ⦠well, people are going to think what they think. There's nothing you can do about that. Certainly, nobody's going to think better of you for doing what you said you did with the baby than for doing what you really did, but people respect you, at least, for telling the truth. And if they can't be compassionate about how bad it was for you, and maybe how confused you were, then that's their problem. So you see, there's really no reason not to just get it all off your chest.”
“No.” She was stiff, her head, the muscles of her face pinched and hard. “There's nothing.”
“There is,” he said. He seemed to sigh. “Listen. Can I tell you something about myself?”
She didn't really want to know anything about him, but she knew the right answer to his question. She nodded.
“There are things I've learned. About guilt, Miss Pratt. I've learned about guilt because no matter how many different kinds of wrong there are in the world, there is only one kind of guilt. Its dimensions might change. Its magnitude. But in essence there's just one guilt. For example, I step on your toe. I feel bad about it and I apologize. The next day, I get behind the wheel of my car while I'm inebriated, and I run into you and kill you. What I feel in the second case is precisely the same emotion as the one I felt for stepping on your toe. But”âhe leaned forward slightlyâ“but it's grown. It's the same gall. The same distress, but vaster, denser. Guilt is internal, Miss Pratt. It doesn't depend on other people telling us how wrong what we did was. If you don't feel it to begin with, it doesn't matter how many people line up to say you were wrongâyou'll never feel it. But if you do feel it, you'll feel it
whether it's my foot or my life. Or your baby's life. This is what I'm trying to say.”
whether it's my foot or my life. Or your baby's life. This is what I'm trying to say.”
The bright sheen of his forehead. She saw the glint of scalp through his skein of steel-colored hair.
“The people who never feel it? I don't know what it is about them. Something chemical that's off in some way. Maybe it's genes. They say everything is genes. But thank God, it's rare to find a person like that. You're not a person like that.”
Heather frowned. Was that good, then? To feel guilty?
“And here's the other thing I want to tell you about guilt. If you feel it, and you hide that feeling, guilt destroys you. It
destroys
you. Believe me, I know about this, Miss Pratt. It's terrible to watch a person tear themselves up. They go around, denying, denying, but inside it's killing them. But you think, What else is there to do? I mean, what's the point of confessing your guilt? It doesn't undo the crime, right? It can't give you another chance not to do the thing that you feel so bad about. No. But it does something else.”
destroys
you. Believe me, I know about this, Miss Pratt. It's terrible to watch a person tear themselves up. They go around, denying, denying, but inside it's killing them. But you think, What else is there to do? I mean, what's the point of confessing your guilt? It doesn't undo the crime, right? It can't give you another chance not to do the thing that you feel so bad about. No. But it does something else.”
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