The Girl in the Mirror(57)

Strangely, though, the moment when I turn down the wine is when I get it. I’m pregnant. Not just won-the-race pregnant, not just got-away-with-it pregnant, not just fuck-you-Francine pregnant.

I am growing a baby.

I drive Adam home and rush to the loo as soon as we get in the house. Pregnancy bladder. I’m almost pleased with the idea. It’s part of what makes this real.

As I wash my hands, I look at myself in the double mirror. The true image in the middle, the two reversed images on either side. Summer, Iris, Summer. I hold my hand to my right breast. Despite the evening’s events, my heartbeat is stable.

Can anyone really feel which side my heart is on? I move my hand to the left. I can still feel a beat on that side. Perhaps it’s fainter. Perhaps not.

I study my face. Is it really all that asymmetrical? I always thought my left cheek was fuller, the left cheekbone higher, but apart from Summer, nobody else could see it.

I’ve fooled everybody. Adam, Tarquin, Annabeth. None of them could tell us apart before, and none of them can now.

It’s as though I’ve been Summer all along.

Sitting in plain view on the vanity is the wrapper for the pregnancy test. Although it was a mistake to leave it here, I don’t feel panicked at the thought that Adam might have seen it. I’m sure I’ve been through the hardest times, and I’ve had lots of practice. I can explain away anything now. All the same, no need to create problems for myself. I scoop it up and wrap toilet paper around it. I’m shoving it down the bottom of the wastebasket when Adam pushes through the bathroom door.

“You sexy whore,” he breathes. “Who have you been fucking while I was at work?” My skirt is still up round my waist; he grabs my underwear and yanks it to my knees.

“Really, Adam, in the toilet?”

The words leap out, and I forget to use my breathless-little-girl voice. Damn, I sound exactly like Iris.

Adam stands stock-still. Jesus, I think. Be Summer. You have to be Summer. But I can’t bear to have him sexyrape me here. Not in front of this mirror.

“Babe, can’t you see, everything’s changed?” I purr. “I’ve been meaning to tell you. Ever since I got pregnant, it hasn’t felt the same. I’m going to be a mother. You have to be gentle with me. No more rough sex.”

But he grabs me with his strong hands, and next thing the door is shut and I’m pushed face first into the mirror. Adam is already hard, and he’s fumbling with his fly.

“Apple!” I cry. “Apple!”

He lets go. I turn. He gapes, and emotions roll over his features: surprise, frustration, embarrassment. A hint of intrigue.

“Don’t sulk, baby,” I say, pushing my hand inside his jeans. “We have the house to ourselves for the evening. Let’s take our time. My body’s soft and round these days. I’m gonna take a shower to give you time to dream up a new way to seduce me. Do you realize you haven’t kissed me lately? You haven’t kissed me since . . . since I don’t know when.”

It’s true. I still haven’t had a single one of those kisses I used to dream of back when I was Iris.

I stand on tiptoe and kiss him now. His lips stay closed, and he stares at me as though I’ve slapped him. I take advantage of his surprise to pull my hand out of his jeans, push him out the door, and lock it behind him.

I don’t have to have sex with Adam anymore. If he wants it, he’s going to have to seduce me.

I smile at the girl in the mirror. She smiles back.

“Tomorrow, you’re booking that brat into day care,” she says.

“I know it, sister,” I reply.





16

The Race




It’s a mild spring morning, and as I stroll across Wakefield Beach, my bikini shows off my beautiful baby bump. My body is sleek and voluptuous. I’m a double D at last.

The last seven months have been a happy dream. The pregnancy test changed everything. No more rapey sex, and Tarquin started day care the next day. When a space came up at a closer day care with longer hours, I switched the little tyke right away. Adam protested, but he didn’t have a leg to stand on. I’m gestating the heir, and let’s face it, Adam’s last wife didn’t survive her pregnancy. My mother told him to pull his head in and let me get some rest.

I’m Summer. Everything works out for me.

Adam thinks I’ve been having piano lessons. For a few months, I banged away on Helen’s piano, choosing easy pieces and making deliberate mistakes. Only when nobody was home would I play properly. Recently, though, I’ve been able to play in front of Adam. Perhaps not the most complex pieces, but challenging enough for me to enjoy myself. He’s no musician, so he doesn’t know to question how quickly I’ve learned. All he says is that it’s nice to hear music in the house again.

Playing the piano is the only thing that gives me the feeling I had at Bathsheba’s helm, a feeling of joining with a great and ancient rhythm. The instrument seems to hold Bathsheba’s soul, the soul of the ocean. It gleams, big and black, in the otherwise blanched living room. There’s so much glass in our house that sunshine blazes everywhere. Sometimes I pull the curtains to rest my eyes, and then I play songs of the sea and feel the ocean’s movement through my fingers.

I think of Bathsheba more and more, but I can’t figure out how she can fit into my future. Adam keeps making noises about selling her, but I’ve managed to dissuade him for now.