“I didn’t tellanyone.”
He looks out his window and I look out mine. Our cab driver is on his own call, speaking softly, words muffled through the thick barrier between us. How many fights have there been in the back of this cab? I wonder.
“I’m sorry,” Chad says finally after the barrage of excuses he gave me about family, and wanting to share joy and how they’ve been there for us. “I shouldn’t have done that. I see how it was a betrayal.”
I sigh. He senses me softening. “Is it so bad? To share our joy?”
Isit so bad? I don’t know. It just feels so fragile, so tentative. And I asked him not to tell; he promised he wouldn’t. But then he broke his promise. That hurts more than anything. Trust is our foundation. But maybe a part of me gets it. I would have loved nothing more than to tell Max. I only didn’t because he’s struggling. The truth is that I’m practically busting with it myself.
“I guess not,” I admit grudgingly.
“You gotta get out here,” says the cabbie.
“No,” says Chad. “One more block.”
The cab driver points ahead, and we see that Park is blocked at Thirty-Sixth Street both ways.
I sigh, so tired, still not feeling so well, feet throbbing in my heels; the extra block seems like a mile. We pay and exit the cab, walk toward our building.
Chad spins and blocks my way.
“Have I been a dick lately?” he asks. “I feel like I’m always asking for your forgiveness. First with the apartment, then Dana, now this.”
I search his face and for a second when I look into his eyes, I feel a chill, like I’m staring into a void. Dana’s accusations ring back.A dark heart beneath a beautiful mask.
Then it’s just Chad again, gaze warm and loving. No. He’s wonderful. The first safe place I’ve found in my life. My rock. Nobody’s perfect. We all make mistakes, especially in intense times like these. Explosive changes, that’s what Miranda said. These are growing pains, part of living a life together.
“No, you haven’t,” I say, touching his arm. “It’s just that we’re our own thing, okay? We make decisions as a couple, then honor those choices. Not say one thing and do another.”
He kisses me, then puts a hand to either side of my face. “I’m just so fucking happy, Rosie. I couldn’t keep it in. But not another word until you’ve seen the doctor. Did Ella give you the name of their friend?”
“I made an appointment with Hilary’s doctor. I see her next week.”
He hesitates, then nods. “Whatever you think.”
That’s right. WhateverIthink. Because it may be our child, but it’s my body and I’ll say how this pregnancy and delivery go. I feel a little of my mother’s strength, her fire, her knowledge, and I’m glad for it.
He drapes an arm around me, and we keep walking, our pace slowing as we draw near and see a crowd. As we grow closer it’s clear that from the crowd, the ambulance and police cars gathered, that something has happened at our building. We start pushing through the throng, earning annoyed comments from the onlookers.
“Excuse me. We live here. What’s happened?” I hear Chad saying.
My heart is pounding as we push to the front of the gathering. I draw back with a hand to my mouth, a scream lodged in my throat.
I see the man, his body ruined on the sidewalk, arms akimbo, legs twisted as if he’s fallen from a great height. Eyes staring at me.
Xavier.
The world starts to spin and someone’s screaming. It’s me. I fall back into Chad, who catches me with strong arms. There’s a brutal, sharp pain in my abdomen that doubles me over. Then the city, the crowd, my husband—everything including me—fades to black.
ACT III
ghosts and gargoyles
The hawk is in the air and I hear its screech. The hawk flies about me, then I can feel its talons on my scalp. It lets go and faces me. I look into its eyes. The hawk is ancient, yet I seem to know who he is. The hawk speaks, “I am the spirits from the past, and I come to you because it is difficult for you to come to us.”
James Hollis
Hauntings: Dispelling the Ghosts Who Run Our Lives