The Things We Keep(82)

A small, surprised laugh explodes from Jack. “You remember that?”

“What girl doesn’t remember being bald?”

Jack looks at me for a long while. “When it started to grow back, you had an Afro that would have made the Jackson Five proud. That was actually pretty cool.” He keeps looking at me, but his gaze slides toward my stomach, and his eyes grow sad. “You’re pregnant, Anna.” Jack puts his hand on my stomach, smoothing my clothes so they sit flat.

My belly looks round, like an upside-down bowl. Jack looks at it for another moment, then drops his head onto my knees. When he lifts it again, his cheeks are wet.

“You mean … there’s a baby in there?” I point at the upside-down bowl.

He nods. I curve my hands around my belly, the way Jack did a moment ago. “A baby?”

Jack closes his eyes. “Oh God.”

I watch him. He looks upset. It makes me upset. “You’re worried because of the Alzheimer’s.”

“Yes, Anna.” Jack can’t even look at me. His brow is heavy and he keeps wiping it. It takes a moment for me to realize what he’s worried about. I’m not going to be around for long. Who will look after my baby when I’m gone?

“You’ll look after my baby, won’t you?” My voice rises and cracks. “After I’m gone. Will you bring it to live with you?”

Jack removes his hand and looks at me. For a moment, I think he’s going to say something important; then he just sighs. “Of course I’ll look after the baby, Anna.”

“Okay,” I say.

“I need to talk to Eric,” he says after what feels like a long time.

“Okay,” I say again, because I also have someone I need to talk to.

Jack sighs a few more times and looks at me a lot. Then he shakes his head and leaves, using that power walk he has. It’s pretty good, that walk. Intimidating. I want to tell him so, but he’s gone. And anyway, I have somewhere to be.

*

And then, I’m out in the hallway again. White walls. White doors. Green sitting things. I pass a Latina carrying a pot of red food. The cook, I guess. She smiles on her way to wherever she’s going. I whirl in circles, looking for him, trying to get my bearings. On my second turn around, I don’t even know which door I came out of. When a bald man walks past, I sigh in relief.

“You okay, Anna?” he asks.

Anna! I give a little fist-pump. He knows me. “Yep. Have you seen … um…?”

“Luke?” he suggests.

I grin. That must be his name. Luke.

“No,” the man says. I decide to call him Baldy. “He’s not in his room?”

“Not sure,” I say. “Can you take me there?”

Baldy is infuriatingly slow, but I tap along beside him because it’s bound to be faster than finding his room myself. Anyway, I’m too happy to be by myself. A baby. I repeat it in my mind a few times. A baby. Don’t forget this, Anna. You have a baby inside your belly.

But when we get to his room, it’s empty. “Crap.”

“Language,” the man tuts. “I’m headed to the parlor. Would you like to come and look for him there?”

I’m about to say yes—after all, it has to be a better idea than stumbling around by myself with all these white doors—when it dawns on me. I know exactly where he is.

“Can you take me to the … stepping-blocks that take you to the next floor?”

He’s grumpy, this old dude. He sighs, loud and inconvenienced, and then starts walking. After a couple of clanks of his walker, he turns and says, “Well? You coming or not?”

Geez.

He takes me as far as the stepping-blocks and then says, “You okay?”

“Sure am,” I say cheerily. “Thanks!”

And then I’m climbing. A baby. Our baby.

He will be in the upstairs room, I’m sure of it. It’s the perfect place to give him this news. I know it’s not all happy. We’re not going to live until our baby is a big person. But we’ll have created life. Life that will exist after we’ve gone.

I climb up another set of stepping-blocks and walk into a thin-room with doors off it. One of the doors is open, and I peer inside. This is it! The room is full of large white mountains, but I ignore them and look for him. He’s not here. I look again, and that’s when I see the window-hole at one end. He must be through there.

I rush to the hole. I need to see him. As I walk through the hole, I bump into something. I have to duck down to get outside.

“Hello!” I call. The sun is blinding and hot. “Hello,” I say again.

I’ve forgotten his damn name again. I hear voices that sound like they’re a long way away, and other noises, too. A bird. The hum of a car. The laugh of a child. A child. My hands find my stomach.

“Where are you?” I call.

“Jesus Christ.” The voice I hear is faint, like it’s far away. “That’s a woman up there.”

“Where?” someone says.

“On the roof.”

“Oh my God!”

“Someone call 911.”

Although I can hear the voices, I don’t know where they’re coming from. And I don’t really care. I still haven’t found him. I need to find him before I forget. The ground below me feels uneven, like I’m standing on a slant. I wobble. Nothing around me is familiar. I don’t think I’m in the upstairs room anymore.