Page 121 of The New Couple in 5B

And I almost laugh even though it’s the furthest thing from funny because it’s so unlike her and suddenly, my vision starts to go fuzzy. It’s getting hotter, and their voices are growing fainter. And suddenly, the world turns upside down.

I hit the floor heavily, feeling my head knock against the hard tile.

No.

The soup. Oh no, the soup.

I remember with a cold dawning now the terrible nausea that followed the last time I had it. How, that night, I lost our baby. Oh, my God. What’s happening?

I’m on the cold floor, looking up at Charles and Ella, who are peering down at me like two doves, craning their necks toward each other.

“You gave her too much,” he says, his voice pulled long and slow like taffy.

“And last time it wasn’t enough, was it?” Hers is high and fast. Willa is there. And Miles, too, both watching sadly.

“Just help me get her out of here,” says Ella. I try to fight them, but my arms are weak, useless.

“What are you doing?” I ask but it comes out slurred in a voice nothing like mine.

“Rest now, Rosie. Just rest. You’re not well,” says Ella kindly, but her eyes are hard.

Before everything goes totally black, I see him, standing tall and staring by the doorway into the kitchen with his crisp uniform and perfect posture.

“Don’t just stand there,” barks Ella. “Help us.”

Abi.

ACT IV

resurrection

I stood as a pupil of death: stood before death’s boundless knowledge and let myself be educated.

Rainer Maria Rilke

forty

“Didn’t I tell you, little girl, that the world out there is dangerous, with predators lurking around every corner?”

I sit beside my father in the first pew of his church, which is just a long bench, rickety and threatening to splinter apart. Above us the sky moves fast, thick gray clouds ready to storm visible through the wide holes in the roof. I can smell the rain coming, feel my sinuses swell. I don’t like to admit that I loved that place, its run-down beauty, its undeniable energy. I don’t like to admit that deep down I loved my father, even with all his flaws, all his lies.

“You lied,” I say. “About so many things.”

He bows his head, long salt-and-pepper hair obscuring his face.

“Are you so sure thatIam the liar? And those teachers, those books, the world out there, that those stories they tell you are any truer?”

“Science, Dad.”

He laughs, a big chuckle that always makes me laugh, too, even when I’m angry. And Iamangry at him. I carry it with me always, this seething resentment for all the ways he failed me.At some point we can choose to find ways to forgive our family, Dr. Black always says.If they hurt you, chances are someone hurt them, too. To accept that is a release.So far, it hasn’t happened for me. Or I haven’t allowed it.

“Science is infallible?” asks my father.

I don’t even answer him because he’ll never convince me that he can heal the sick with his touch and he’ll never believe that he can’t. So what’s the point?

“So what will you do now, rose petal? Your sister came to help you and you pushed her away. Now what?”

My wrists ache and I look down to see them bound. I get up and start to run but then I fall to the ground, my ankles bound, as well.

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