Chapter 3

August 2011

7:00am had come all too soon. Anna had been a fitful sleeper since the accident, adding to the crushing exhaustion of new motherhood. She heard Chloe through the monitor, cooing and gurgling in her crib. Anna watched her on the screen, kicking her legs and waving her arms, as if performing a morning exercise routine. A wave of love washed over her. Thank God for this child, she thought, she is saving me; but at the same time, she felt an overwhelming sense of responsibility- an insecurity so deep and debilitating that she often wondered if Chloe would be better off raised by someone else: someone more capable. Anna felt inept and ill-equipped to handle the ever-changing phases of babyhood. Chloe had already had enough challenges in her short life. With James gone, Anna felt pressure to do everything perfectly. The anxiety of potentially damaging her child kept her up at night. Her love for her daughter pushed her forward day after day, but also bound her to a world of dreadful anticipation- anticipation of doing it wrong and having no one with whom to share the blame. Any perceived notion of having control over her life had disappeared the night the police officer stood in her doorway with his hat in his hand.

Anna’s lower back barked as she eased her legs over the side of the futon. Too many nights on the thin mattress were taking their toll. She needed to decide whether to sell the house as is or hire someone to finish it and get the hell out of there. Until she found a permanent teaching position, there was no point in owning a house, especially a four-bedroom fixer upper. The house was one more reminder of what her life was supposed to be. Anna trudged up the creaky stairs in her slippers and swung open the door to Chloe’s room. Chloe was sitting up, squealing at her favorite stuffed toy, Mr. Hankey the Christmas Poo from the television show South Park. James had given it to Anna as a gag gift on their first anniversary.

“A reminder of the night we met,” he’d laughed.  It had wound up in the pile of stuffed animals in Chloe’s room and for some reason it was the one she had latched onto. Anna had removed the eyes so Chloe wouldn’t choke, and now the toy just looked like a turd with a Santa hat, causing some people alarm. 

A knock at the front door startled Anna. Since the accident, there had been many knocks at the door: reporters, neighbors, college faculty, town gossips. When your husband’s mistress was the wife of a high-profile senator, curiosity overcame propriety, it seemed. She had barely made it through the funeral with the excessive media coverage. At first, she had been mortified at the inaccuracies being reported, but after a while she became numb to it. One paper had claimed that Chloe was a mistake and that she was the only thing that had kept James in his “dead” marriage. While she’d been able to dismiss the other headlines as untrue, Anna questioned this one. Everything she thought she had known about James was now in question. Had she missed the signs? Had James not wanted a child? The memories of their past were blurred by her anger toward him. Yes, there had been fights and tension in the days, weeks, and even months leading up to the accident; but she’d seen how much James adored Chloe. It couldn’t have been an act. Yet he’d been with Katherine. Who knows for how long before, but at the very least since Chloe’s birth. Maybe he hadn’t been ready to be a father after all, or maybe it was just Anna he had been dissatisfied with. The pain of those thoughts was too much to bear. The only thing she felt now was anger.

The knock persisted, bringing her out of her musings. Anna pulled a flannel shirt out of a box of clothes in the hallway and pulled it on, covering her milk-stained nursing tank. The scent of James on the shirt washed over her and nearly brought her to her knees. Anna scooped up Chloe and went carefully down the stairs. An unfamiliar man stood on the porch. He wore a white t-shirt, Carhartt’s and work boots. Sunglasses sat atop a head of closely cropped dark hair and a chiseled jaw with a day’s worth of stubble clenched on a piece of gum.

“Hello?” said Anna.

“Hey, I’m Alex.” He stated as though she should know him.

“How can I help you?” she asked, guarded. Chloe was pawing at James’ shirt, trying to get to her morning feeding.

Annoyance crossed Alex’s face. “I’m here to work on the house?”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about. Did my husband hire you? Because he’s dead.” 

The stranger cringed. The words sounded harsh, even to Anna’s ears, but the smell of James’ shirt had her guts churning. Why had she answered the door? Anna worked to distract Chloe from ripping the shirt open by shoving Mr. Hankey the Christmas Poo into her mouth. Chloe chomped down and settled for a moment, content, while Alex failed to hide his surprise at seeing a baby chewing on a large toy turd.

 “No, it wasn’t your husband. I’m sorry for your loss.” He paused uncomfortably.  “It was…the town.”

“The town?”

“Yes. The town wanted to come together to help you. Knowing what kind of shape this house used to be in, they thought you could use my services. I’m a carpenter. Through their fundraising, they have purchased my services for one month, excluding supplies.”

“Fundraising? A month?” Anna stood in the doorway, mouth open, with her exhausted brain trying to process this information. “Why would they do that? No one here knows me.”

“Welcome to Westerly,” Alex sighed. “They may not know you, but they know your business.” He paused. “Look, I’m sorry. Someone was supposed to have told you about all of this. I understand now why you’re surprised to see me. I can come back tomorrow.”

“Ok.” Anna whispered. She felt lightheaded and clammy. Her ears clogged and sound was muted. She needed to put Chloe down before she dropped her, but the effort seemed too much. Instead, she pushed the baby into the stranger’s arms and stumbled toward the futon, mumbling, “Can you take her? Please...”

“Are you alright?” Alex stepped into the house, holding Chloe awkwardly.

“I’m fine,” black dots blurred her vision. “I think it’s just from standing so long.” Her ears were ringing, and she struggled to form words. The sounds of the room echoed. She heard Alex’s voice from a distance and then everything went black.

Next Chapter: About Last Night