Page 90 of The Singing Trees
Annalisa had been thinking about it endlessly. It would be so easy to go back home, to surround herself by family, but that would make her a failure. Another woman with grand dreams knocked down by reality.
“I don’t know,” she admitted. “Everything was so perfect, and now this...the end. Thomas was supposed to be with me to raise our child. Together. A family. How can I do this alone? What kind of life could I give a child?”
“Knowing you, you’ll figure it out,” he said, trying to become her cheerleader.
She stared out the window at the trees whizzing by. “I’m right back where I was. Maybe I’m not meant to be a mother. That’s the truth of it. What if I screw it all up? I’ve screwed up so much already.”
“Don’t think that way,” Nino said. “You’ll be a great mom. Look at all our crazy aunts, running all over the place. If they can do it, you definitely can.”
“I’m not so sure. Walt is not feeling well these days, so I’m working like a dog. I don’t have enough savings to afford childcare. Girls like me can’t raise a child without a family, but the idea of going back to the Mills makes me...” She breathed in. “It makes me feel like a failure.”
“That’s the last thing you are, Annalisa. Why would you ever say that?” He was a terrible driver, swerving like he was drunk and much more focused on their conversation than their safety.
She glanced at him. “That’s exactly what I feel like, and everything around me is burning too. I just...it sounds awful to say, but maybe adoption would be best. For me and the baby.” Saying the word felt like a betrayal to the little one inside her. It made her sick, and she could already sense God and Nonna judging her. The decision was hers, though, and at that moment, it seemed like the only answer. She could give this baby to a family who could support and raise him or her the right way, giving it the life Annalisa had originally hoped to offer.
The deep woods of Maine seemed to offer no consolation, no answers. Was this place even her home anymore? She didn’t feel like a Mainer. She felt like an outsider. When the smokestacks of the mill came into view, she felt her father’s ghost fill the car.
“It’s your body and your decision,” Walt said on a frigid mid-December day, “but if you want to keep the baby, I’ll help you.” The city was lit up with Christmas lights, but for the first time in her life, Annalisa was far from festive.
She hated being a charity case, but he was insistent. “I’m not your problem, Walt. Lord knows you have plenty to look after with your health.”
Walt shot a serious look at her. “You’re anything but my problem. All I can say is that you should follow your heart. I’m not going to getin between you and your grandmother, as I’m sure she has her own opinions. Mine hardly matter.”
Nonna had taken the news of Thomas’s infidelity without any shade of surprise rising on her face. It was as if she’d seen so many bad things in her life that nothing shocked her anymore. That day when Annalisa had first told her, she’d clapped her hands and said, “Then you move back home, and we raise this baby together.”
Though she was endlessly grateful to Nonna for the offer, Annalisa had replied the same as always. “And give up?”
Walt coughed into a napkin. “You have options. That’s what matters. I suppose the right answer is waiting; you just need to find it.”
“Where in the world do I find the right answer?”
“You’re heartbroken, Anna. When you’re heartbroken, making decisions about the rest of your life feels impossible. Maybe you need to face your feelings of losing Thomas before you can decide what to do with your baby.”
It was all too much. She felt like everything was raining down on her. Walt and his COPD, Nonna getting older, a baby on the way. Thomas coming home.
As her problems poured over her, her being alone made the fight lose its worth. How would she ever paint again? Enough of the awful roller coasters involved with being an artist. It was time to consider hanging it up.
When the world entered 1972, all Annalisa could do was think of Thomas, wondering about his location and plans, wondering about this foreign girl with whom he’d fallen in love. Had he truly brought her home? Was she that much better than her? What had been his reaction when he’d returned to Davenport to find his car, the ring, and her note?Did he even care? Would he care that she was carrying his baby? The questions were a rusty anchor shackled to her ankle, pulling her down.
Her hurting was so bad that she dreamed about him, conjuring up scenes of what could have been. She could see him by her side, playing with their little boy. She saw the three of them sitting at the table, eating and laughing. She saw Thomas putting skis and skates on their son for the first time. Even when she wasn’t dreaming, she heard and saw things that weren’t there. Sometimes she’d hear the phone ring and know that it was him, but then it wouldn’t ring again. Sometimes she’d open her mailbox and see a letter with his handwriting, only to reach for it and realize it had been a mirage.
These thoughts—these feelings of still loving him despite his breach of trust—were driving her mad. He’d completely destroyed her life and hadn’t even had the decency to come find her and apologize. Moving on must have been easy for him. If only he knew what he’d done to her.
Always the good cousin, Nino had been spending a lot of time with her in Portland. Like Walt, he helped without asking anything in return, and those two men kept her from taking a stance against all the men in the world.
It was the fourth day of January and one of those rare winter nights when the temperature outside hovered around freezing and, for Mainers, was warm enough to sit outside with a blanket on their laps. For Annalisa, the cold served to numb the pain she couldn’t seem to shake.
Enjoying only one glass herself, she had opened a second bottle for Nino. He was hilarious when he drank, and their laughter spilled down onto the street. They’d pulled their chairs up next to each other so that they could share the blanket. The scent of charcoal and sizzling steaks came up from another building, a neighbor grilling out on their balcony.
“You wouldn’t have to live with Nonna,” he said. “You and I can get a place.”
“You want to live with me and a baby?” Annalisa asked. “What’s that going to do for your game?”
He shrugged. “Fair point. So when are you going back on the market? Don’t tell me you’re gonna retreat into your shell like the old days. The kid will need a dad.”
She wasn’t sure any kid needed a dad, though Nino’s father was a good man.
“I will never go back on the market,” she said. “You kidding me?”
