WISHBONE (19 page)

Julien sat up on the granite counter beside the stove trying to talk through the rag. “I’m sorry, Rachael.”

She came out from the laundry closet off the kitchen wearing one of his white tee shirts. 

She was stunned by his words. “No...” She clapped a hand to her chest. “
I’m sorry
. I feel terrible about this.” Rachael played along, but she was not fully convinced by Julien’s story. She reenacted their passion in her mind, attempting to figure out how and when he could have possibly hit the side of the pool and with such force. She had been in front of him the entire time. There simply was no way and his story just did not add up. She forced herself between his knees and pressed her cheek to his chest, hugging him tight about the waist. “It was nice, huh? I mean, until…”

Nice?

“You are always amazing, Rachael.” He moved the ice away. “It was very nice, yes.” He wrapped one arm around her shoulders and held her close.

Rachael knew there was no use pressing Julien for answers, after eleven years, she was well aware that he would never give them to her.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

I wish my face, it does not hurt anymore.

Julien already had everything he wanted, and his heart was not in the game. The simple wish was all he could come up with tonight.

The wishbone snapped.

Tink!

He sat holding the smaller half. Rachael was neither as enthusiastic nor as excited as she had been with all her previous wins. He figured they were both growing complacent about it all. Even he had to admit that the strict guidelines and limitations they had vowed to adhere to were dampening the fun of such a gift. Rachael had pushed the envelope, wishing for less concealable aspirations—horses, swimming pools and other large material objects, but Julien managed to reel her back in, reminding her of their promise. They had both agreed that they would never wish for anything that would have adverse affects on someone else’s life, or be too difficult to explain away. It troubled him enough that his wish for the Parks Department account had probably taken money from someone else’s hand, and not knowing what that might have meant, and to whom, had made for a few restless nights and
good ol’
Catholic guilt
.

“Should I shut the light?” he inquired, noticing that Rachael was not reading as she normally did.

“Em-hem.” She pulled the blanket up over her shoulder and turned away from him.

Is she angry?

“Are you okay?” he asked.

“Yep, just tired.”

He reminded her that she had won tonight. He tossed his half of the wishbone onto the nightstand before turning out the light.

Rachael lay there in the darkness wishing she could take it back, though it was too late now. She had made the wish and won the game; it was only a matter of time. She was afraid to get up and check the other rooms—for all she knew the wish had already come true. She could not bring herself to prepare a plan for how she would handle Julien’s reaction, as she knew it would not be good. Now, in the darkness, she wished she
had not
won the game. She could hear Julien behind her, his breathing; he was still awake. She thought to turn and tell him what she had done so the wish would not come true, but what if it already had. She lay there thinking about the mess she just created for herself, but a tiny voice in the back of her mind reminded her that Julien had lied to her earlier. There was no way that he had been injured in the pool in the manner by which he claimed—
I would have known
, she reasoned. Something else had happened and Julien was keeping it a secret from her, though she could not fathom what the truth could have been. Julien had long kept secrets from her. He did not
always
consider her feelings, why should she consider his? Then she remembered her wish again and cringed. She felt nauseous. It was too late to take it back now
…but I vowed, s
he briefly thought before chasing her conscience away.

Julien lay there well aware of the distance between them in the queen-size bed. Rachael had seemingly believed his explanation for the mysterious bruising on his face, but she had been relatively quiet all evening, walking around with a pensive expression. She hadn’t seemed angry, yet now he felt like he was sleeping in an igloo. He thought about turning over and wrapping his arms around her, but feared her reaction would trigger a night filled with drama and hours of exhaustive discussion. He thought better of it and instead, turned over onto his back. He was there for her if she wanted him.

* * * *

Julien could hear the faint sound of birds chirping through the window glass. His eyes fluttered.

Don’t. 

Don’t wake up yet. 

Sleep for a while longer.

In a twilight stupor, Julien moved to turn onto his side, but felt something sliding off his chest. Instinctively, he jerked his hands up to catch the…
remote control…book…BABY!

Instantly awake, Julien stared down at the petite bundle nestling against his chest. He could feel each pounding beat of his heart as he looked down at it lying on its belly in a tight ball, legs and arms draw against itself, its rump high in the air. He froze; there could have been a cup of acid resting on his chest and he would have been less petrified. It wriggled in its sleep, drawing one hand toward its mouth. Julien was caught somewhere between his back and his side, the baby held in place beneath his hand. He stared down at the newborn. Thick black hair, tiny fingers, a soft pink cotton onesie speckled with tiny white hearts. Julien carefully completed the turn, slowly lowering the infant onto the mattress before scrambling backwards far from the bed.

On its back now and suddenly exposed, the baby began to cough out tiny grunts, then whimpers, and finally, to wail at the top of its lungs. Julien backed away even further from the bed bumping into the wall.

Rachael turned over and jumped to attention. She looked down at the baby and then to Julien before snatching the baby into her arms. She hugged tightly to her daughter and began to sob.

Julien paced at the foot of the bed, his mind reeling, so erratic, he could not decipher his own thoughts. He slid to the ground where he sat covering his face and trying to quiet the chaos of his mind.

Rachael studied the baby, her fingers, her ears, her lips; bawling, she could hardly see a thing.

Julien sat beneath the windows staring in shock at the carpet. Judging by the size of the baby, this was not
a
baby, but
the
baby, brought to life by Rachael’s last wish. He couldn’t bring himself to look at his wife. He listened to the sound of her crying and felt like he might be on the brink of doing the same, though for very different reasons. His thoughts were all over the board. Essentially, his wife was holding a dead fetus. A phenomenon, which due to her actions, had now become impossible for Julien to continue turning a blind eye to.

I’m going to be sick.

Julien rushed to the adjoining bathroom and hunched over the commode.

Rachael could hear Julien emptying the contents of his stomach. Her heart sank; what had she done? She could not stop weeping amidst the turmoil of sheer joy and extreme guilt, gratitude and terror. The infant was sound asleep in her cradled arms. She was perfect, love, hope, new, warm, hers,
theirs
, real, alive. Everything had been made right with one single wish.

Julien wiped his mouth with a towel. He winced, reminded of the incident in the pool, and then testing and rocking his jaw from side to side.

How could I not see this coming?

How could I not know?

Why? What is wrong with me? 

Why hadn’t she mentioned a word about the baby in all this time?

Why hadn’t I?

Because she never told me about the baby—Matt did. 

It was never a discussion between us.

How can I be so heartless?

How can I be so stupid?

This is unnatural…we can’t.

Julien walked back into the bedroom. Rachael’s red swollen eyes locked on him. He could see her desperation as he came closer. He had the feeling she might bolt if he moved too quickly. He knelt before Rachael and the baby, whom he refused to look at.

Tears running down her face, Rachael whispered between hiccoughs of air. “Please…” she pleaded. “Please, Julien…please don’t say it.”

Julien ran a hand slowly through his hair and sighed. “Rachael,” he spoke softly, touching her thigh. “Sweetheart…we just cannot.” He shook his head searching for the right reasons. “We don’t have a birth certificate.”

“We can wish for one,” she suggested. “No one needs to know.” She sat there, heartsick and willing him to find it within him to agree. “We’ll hide her.”

Julien had seen his wife through a tragic time; he had seen her frantic, panic-stricken, but never had he seen her so desperate. They spoke with their eyes for a long moment, his wife’s soul staring back at him. His heart ached seeing her this way, and knowing how difficult it would be to convince her to do the right thing. He wanted her to be happy. He wanted to take away the damage that had been done to her and give her what she wanted, but this was not a horse, nor a motorcycle. This was playing God.

“Rachael,” he said, placing a hand behind her neck, “I did not know.” He moved up to sit beside her on the bed, still refusing to look down at the baby. “I did not know,” he repeated.

Riddled with guilt and watching her suffer, he felt his eyes dampen. The baby had never been real to him. It existed for only a short angry cab ride, a brief past tense discussion with a doctor, and then banished from his mind as he sat beside his battered, assaulted wife in the hospital, consumed by anger and worry. He had never thought about her loss, her grief, only the trauma and anxiety of the rape.

“Rachael, you’re not asking to keep a puppy.” The words slipped from his tongue and he felt terrible; he did not mean it the way it sounded. He let go of her and turned away. He caught their reflections in the mirror. He watched her watching him.

“No, not a puppy,” she replied, wiping at her face with the back of her hand.

Julien turned back to her. “This is not real, Rachael. I …I do not know what this is… it is very unnatural. It is very wrong.”

Her voice took on a shrill tone when she asked, “Why is this wrong?” She clutched the baby tighter, her eyes penetrating and filled with fear.

His frustration was mounting. “Rachael…why can you not understand this? We promise to each other we would not do this things. We do not know what we are doing…the gift…the wishes. We don’t know what we do? What we are to mess with.”

Rachael, her eyes held steady on Julien, she could see he was fighting back tears of his own—something she had never seen him do before; their life together had always felt so perfect.

“Please, Julien?” she asked once more.

“Rachael, you do not understand how hard this is for me to say no to you. This will kill me.” He lost his battle and tears fell. “This is dangerous. We promise to each other and you do
this
.”

At first, Rachael did not know what to do. He was crying and she wanted to console him; she also wanted to look away. She gazed down at the baby in her arms and then back to Julien.

“If you wish her away you have to wish me away too,” she said stone-faced.

Nervous laughter escaped Julien and he studied her.

She added, “If you don’t, I’ll just do it anyway.”

She is threatening me to kill herself.

“Rachael, listen to me,” he pleaded. “We have to make this right. We make the wish and take care of the problem. I promise you, we start right away to make a family, okay? We do this the right way, with both of us planning and no question from others, okay?”

“
Take care of
the problem
?” Rachael glared at him. “I don’t fucking believe you.”  The baby startled and she lovingly ran a hand over the top of her head.

Is there any way to give her what she wants?

Julien’s gaze fell upon the sleeping newborn. Every ounce of his conscious mind told him this was wrong. This was a mistake, unnatural, dangerous.

This is not a motorcycle…a pool…a tattoo…

She is dying inside…She lost a child. 

How could I ignore she lost a child…Our child.

He did not know what to do. No answer felt right to him. His head was pounding, his chest tight. The room began to spin.

I will have a fucking heart attack for this…

I don’t know how we pull this off…explain this…hide this…

This is wrong.  This is dangerous. 

“Rachael,” he gave it one more try, “We can have a baby…” More tears ran down his face. If there were any part of him that could be convinced that keeping this child was the right thing to do, he would have allowed for it. “Just not this baby,” he added. He choked out the words between his increasing emotions. He knew how painful it would be for her to lose the baby twice, but they were playing God, and he was sure nothing good would come from it.

Rachael’s entire body shuddered. He tried to hug and console her, but she shrank away from him. The baby began to wail.

He got to his feet and found a shirt. “It’s wrong, Rachael. We’re doing something very wrong here with these…these bones. It is going out of control.
This is out of control!”
he shouted, motioning toward the baby in her arms. Glancing around the room, he spotted his cigarettes. He paused for a moment before lighting one—
a baby in the room
. Then lit it anyway.

“I’m scared Rachael.” He paced at the foot of the bed. “I admit that I have been thoughtless. It was cruel for me to not realize that you were grieving. I was wrong.” He gestured emphatically as he stuttered and stammered through his words.