The Family Next Door(55)
Jules opened his eyes all at once, without a single stir or yawn. He always woke like this, and it was always unnerving. He frowned. “You okay?”
“No, I’m not,” she said, jumping out of bed.
“Where are you going?”
“I need to see Essie,” she replied, and headed for the shower.
40
ESSIE
Essie had been in Summit Oaks for two nights and there hadn’t been any mention of a release date. It was fine by her. She was nuts, after all. A married, mother of two, becoming obsessed with a female neighbor? Spying on her from the side of her house like a stalker? It was like a Jerry Springer episode. Everyone agreed she’d had “another postpartum episode,” and the humiliation of this was all encompassing. Another one? Was it not enough that she had dumped her first baby in the park, but now she’d had a complete mental breakdown after her second?
The medication helped keep thoughts at bay. Thoughts of … what would it be like when she had to face Isabelle? It was hard enough to face Ben. She’d thought he would be angry with her, horrified and embarrassed, but he wasn’t. He’d been at her bedside every moment he wasn’t with the kids. As far as she knew he hadn’t been to work in days. If her mum hadn’t begged him to go home and be with the girls, she suspected he’d have spent the nights on the floor of her hospital room as well.
Ange had phoned and so had Fran. Essie was touched, even though she couldn’t bring herself to speak to them. She knew she’d have to face everyone eventually, but for now, she was happy to remain in foggy, drugged-out world where reality didn’t exist. Essie’s mum was the only one she’d speak to, besides Ben. She sat in Essie’s room now, flipping through a magazine. For the last two days, she and Ben had tag-teamed, either at the hospital or looking after the girls. In her typical style, her mum didn’t ask anything of Essie. She brought magazines or snacks, and then sat by the window, refolding Essie’s clothes and throwing out wrappers from candy bars she’d eaten. Making things right again. Essie knew she had lucked out in the mother department, but what about Mia and Polly? Who would make things right for them?
Essie began to get tired—a combination of the medication and the depression. Even as she started to drift off, she sensed her mother’s movements. She was grabbing her purse from the table, rummaging for her keys, checking for her sunglasses on her head, looking around to see if there was anything else she could do before she left—anything else she could give. Her lips brushed Essie’s forehead and then the door gently closed.
A few minutes later Essie heard a nurse come in. She waited for the scrape of the chart lifting from the end of the bed, the filling of the water jug, the scrawl of a pen against paper—but she didn’t hear them. Even the soles of her shoes on the floor sounded wrong, more of a clack than a squeak.
Essie opened her eyes.
“Did I wake you?”
Isabelle stood at the end of the bed, looking down at her with a tentative smile. Her hands were clasped together in front and she looked nervous, which Essie found odd. What did she have to be nervous about? She wasn’t the one who’d humiliated herself. Unless … maybe she was worried that Essie might do something crazy again?
“I’m sorry to show up like this,” Isabelle said, “I just … needed to see you. After the other night, I was worried.”
Essie struggled to her elbows, then sat up. Despite the circumstances, Essie couldn’t deny she was happy to see Isabelle, if very sheepish. “You were worried? About your crazy neighbor?”
“You’re not crazy, Essie.”
“With all due respect, you haven’t been inside my mind for the last few weeks. You haven’t heard my thoughts.”
Isabelle pulled up a chair and sat. “That’s true. And actually, I was hoping you would share those thoughts with me. If you’d humor me, I’d really like to know.”
“Trust me, you don’t.”
“Trust me, I do.”
They locked eyes. It seemed, despite all odds, that she did want to know. Essie didn’t understand why, but she also didn’t have much to lose. She’d already spied on Isabelle through the window of her house. How much worse could it get?
“Fine. When I wake up, I’m thinking about you. When I go to sleep, I’m thinking about you. I think about kissing you and touching you. I love you. I feel like if I lost you, I’d be like a sieve, full of holes, and everything that is good would leach away. I … I’m obsessed with you, Isabelle.”
She snuck a look at Isabelle, and was surprised to find her nodding. She slid her chair a little closer to Essie. “What if I told you that everything you just described made absolute sense?”
Essie laughed once, a “pah” of ridiculousness. “I’d say you were crazy.”
“And I’d say I’m not crazy,” Isabelle said. “I’m your sister.”
I left the hospital that afternoon. I wasn’t in any position to argue. I’d feel much better once I was at home, I told myself, though I’d miss the medication. The ward was busy so I packed my own bag, ready for discharge. I waited in my room for a while, but when no one came to see me I just left. And then I was going down in the elevator and headed for the taxi stand. Going home.