Chapter 5

August 2011

“Chloe!” Anna tried to open her eyes, but they were too heavy. She reached for her baby with a heavy arm. She was jolted awake by a strong smell. She regained awareness feeling cold, sweaty, and confused. Alex was holding something under her nose and a large, bearded man burst through the doorway, medical kit in tow.

“Tell me what happened.” The bearded man pulled a blood pressure cuff from his kit, wrapped it around Anna’s arm and started to pump it.

“We were standing in the doorway talking, and she became confused: slurred speech, all the color drained from her face. She shoved her baby at me and stumbled to the futon just before passing out. Cool. Those smelling salts really work. She came right to.”

“I’m fine,” Anna rasped. She smiled dazedly at Chloe, who was in her pack ‘n play. “I need to feed her.”

“Not just yet, ma’am,” the bearded man said. “I’m going to prick your finger. He pulled out a blood sugar stick test and got to work. “When is the last time you ate?”

Anna stared at the man’s beard. It was a rich brown, nicely trimmed. A real man’s beard, she thought and smiled. “Ma’am? The last time you ate?”

“Oh. Sorry. Um….”

“Do you remember the last time you ate?” Now Alex was questioning, speaking slowly and loudly as though she had no intelligence.

“I…. don’t, I guess. Sometime yesterday, maybe?” She remembered thinking about grabbing something around lunch time, but then Chloe had a diaper blowout and had needed a bath, then a feeding, then another blowout and bath after that. Maybe she hadn’t eaten since the day before that?

“Are you diabetic, ma’am?” The bearded man was shining a light in her eyes.

“No.”

“And how much sleep did you get last night?” He took her pulse.

“Two hours? Maybe three?”

“Looks like low blood sugar. Maybe exhaustion. No eating and lack of sleep will do that. Alex why don’t you see if there is any juice in the fridge.”

Alex disappeared into the kitchen and reappeared with a glass of orange juice. Anna, suddenly famished, gulped the juice down. She was most of the way through the glass when she spit it out and choked “Alcohol.”

The bearded man’s face grew stern. “Now ma’am, I understand that you’ve been through a lot, but if you think that drinking is going to solve your problems, especially at this hour and with a baby in the house—"

“No! The juice! It’s old. It’s turned.” Anna’s wits were coming back, and she was appalled at what the bearded man, whose uniform bore the name Ed, was assuming.

Alex stepped back into the kitchen and returned with the juice carton, taking a long smell. He raised the spout to his lips and took a gulp.

“Yup!” He coughed. “That’s alcohol.”  He read the date on the carton and shook his head. “This expired a month ago. I’ve got a Coke in the truck.” Moments later, Alex handed Anna a bottle and told her to drink. She felt better after the first sip.

“This is embarrassing. I’m so sorry. I’ll be fine. I just need to eat something.”

“Your fridge could use some help,” Alex called over his shoulder as he headed back into the kitchen. Anna heard him opening and closing cupboards. She grew more embarrassed by the minute.

“Yes. I need to get to the grocery store,” she mumbled, taking in what her house must look like to them. The last few months were hazy. Days blended into each other to form bits of indistinguishable time. There were no landmarks to guide an existence that passed from one feeding to the next, one diaper change to another, one bone weary sunrise to exhausted sunset. Only now, after others had interrupted her autopilot setting, did she truly see the dirty dishes piled up in the kitchen, overflowing garbage cans, the mountains of laundry in baskets by the stairs, weeks of mail sitting unopened on the kitchen counter, vases of dead flowers scattered about, and the answering machine blinking with 23 messages. Grime ground underfoot everywhere except in the living room, which Anna kept clean for Chloe to play. Out the windows, the lawn looked more like a hay field, with piles of demolition debris on the porch waiting to be put into the hideous dumpster that sat in the driveway. Time had stopped when James had died; except it hadn’t. Chloe had grown from a fragile infant to a six-month-old baby. She was chubby, cherubic, and full of personality.

“Mrs. Bishop?”

Anna blinked back to the present. “Hmm? Oh. Sorry.” Alex was holding a spoonful of something orange in front of her.

“Eat this. It’s the only edible thing in the kitchen.” He set a glass of water on the table next to her.

“What is it?”

“Baby food. It’s all you’ve got. No wonder you passed out.”

“This is supposed to be Chloe’s first solid food.” Anna took a bite and grimaced. Sweet potatoes were not her favorite even when they weren’t pureed. Nevertheless, the jar was gone in three bites.

“You’ll have to buy her more when you go grocery shopping. I’ll be right back. Eddie, will you wait?”

“Of course,” grumbled Eddie, as though insulted that Alex would even ask. “Ma’am I know you don’t know too many people here, but we were all really sorry to hear about your husband. Such a shame, and with a little one, too.” He looked over at Chloe, who gave him a gummy smile.

Anna was about to say thank you when Eddie gasped “Jesus Christ! Is that baby eating shit?”

“It’s just a toy.” For the hundredth time, Anna cursed that toy.

“Oh, my gawd. Excuse my language, ma’am. That scared me!”

“Mr. Hankey the Christmas Poo strikes again, I’m afraid.”

“Oh, that’s what that is! I see it now!” Eddie started to laugh; a full belly laugh that made Anna smile. Then he kept laughing and laughing until he whooped and wheezed. “How many people must think your baby eats poo…” he squeaked. “She’s so angelic and happy and then she’s got that- that turd in her mouth!” Eddie was not a small man. His body nearly convulsed with his laughter.  Chloe watched Eddie closely. His laugh was contagious. She started to giggle.

Alex returned, banana in hand.

“You’re not going to have any lunch left if you keep getting things out of your truck,” said Anna. Eddie was showing Alex Mr. Hankey and he didn’t seem to hear her. She was ravenous. Tearing the peel off, she shoved a huge bite into her mouth. Both men stopped to watch her. Now self-conscious, Anna adapted a more mannered and less phallic approach to consuming the banana.

“That’s not from my truck, it’s from your neighbors,” Alex belatedly responded.

“My neighbors?”

“Susan and Beth. From the cottage next door.” He jerked his thumb over his shoulder in the direction of the house. “They’re on their way over.”

“What? Now?” Anna groaned with frustration.  “Why?”

Anna had been avoiding the two ladies. One or the other had been banging on her door at least once a week since the accident. Anna hid upstairs when she saw them coming. Now she would have to face them and feign knowledge of their endless attempts to drop in. Anna wasn’t interested providing fodder for gossip about the poor widow whose husband went and got himself and his mistress killed, leaving his child behind.

The least James could have done was have an affair with someone unknown. Instead, he had chosen a senator’s wife, and the press couldn’t get enough of it. The senator had even attended James’ funeral, allowing reporters to snap pictures of him paying his condolences to Anna, both portrayed as the victims of tragic deceit.

“I don’t have time for visitors now. Chloe needs to be fed. I’m not even out of my pajamas.”

“They said they’ve been trying to see you for months.”

From her perch on the futon, Anna could see them making their way over. Two women, likely in their late sixties, one with short, spiky gray hair, the other with a pure white French braid, were lumbering across her lawn laden with canvas totes in each hand.

Anna groaned, defeated. She excused herself to the bathroom. Her breasts were full and aching, ready for Chloe’s feeding that should have happened an hour ago. She inserted two fresh leak barrier pads into her nursing tank, then quickly brushed her teeth and hair. The face reflected in the mirror was pale, dark circles under the eyes, hair matted and dull. Her yoga pants sagged in the hips and rear. Yellow milk stains marred her cover-up shirt. She sighed and mumbled grumpily, “Best I can do with absolutely no notice, as if I even care.”  She took a quick whiff of her armpit and hastily applied deodorant before heading back out to greet her “guests”.

Next Chapter: What Are We Doing Today?