Cruel World(15)

There were none in the state of Maine.

He thumbed the power button and let the room fall into silence. A gentle breeze nudged the windows and he looked outside at the cerulean sky, unblemished, the pine trees swaying gently. How would the sea look today? Aquamarine or cobalt or maybe gunmetal gray. The Atlantic never seemed to be in concurrence with the weather. It was its own dominion, independent of the sky and breeze. How would it be to get in the skiff and sail away across it? Let the waves and wind take him where they wished. Forget the broken sounds from his father and Teresa’s lungs; forget the freezing, damp of their skin beneath his fingers; forget the quiet air of the house with no one speaking.

A sick, ratcheting cough came from above and he turned toward the stairs, listening to the brittle grinding sound that shouldn’t have been coming from a person. Teresa, it was Teresa.

Quinn ran up the stairway taking the treads two at a time and rushed into her room. The old woman was on her side, shaking and shivering with each cough, curling in on herself like a dead leaf in a fire. He knelt at her side, throwing an arm over her thin shoulders, trying to brace her without really knowing what else to do. She hacked long and painful, her breath sounding like it was full of sand and gravel. Eventually she had nothing left, and she sagged, rolling slowly onto her back again. He gently sat her up enough to prop two pillows behind her sweating back, and when he eased her against them, her eyes were open. They were bloodshot and pain-ridden, but clearly seeing him.

“Are you okay?” she wheezed.

Quinn deflated, his air coming out in one long breath.

“You’re asking if I’m okay? Yes, I’m fine.”

“You don’t feel it?”

“Feel what?”

“The cold?”

“No, I’m okay.”

“Good.” Teresa closed her eyes and was able to breathe deep without succumbing to another coughing spell. He brought the glass close to her face, offering the straw to her. She shook her head.

“Not thirsty.”

“You have to drink; you’re sweating buckets.”

“How’s your father?”

“The same, still sleeping.”

“The others?”

He hesitated. “They’re fine.”

She nodded, her hand sliding toward his over the blankets. He took it.

“I left him,” she said after a time.

“Who?”

“My son. You asked me the other day if he left me. He didn’t; I left him.”

Quinn frowned and waited. Teresa’s chest was rising slower than before, but her fingers were strong in his own. When she spoke again, her voice was lower than a whisper, the sound of the wind in the pines.

“His name is Jeffrey. I was twenty when I got pregnant. Second year of college and his father was a married man, though I didn’t know it at the time. When he found out, he threatened me. Said that if I told anyone who the father was, he’d find a way to remove me from school. Said he’d keep me from getting in anywhere else that I applied. He was a man of power and was kind up until that point.” She turned her head to the side, toward the window. The shades were open and the sky was still the seamless blue, unstitched by any clouds.

“I wanted to teach so badly, you see. It had been my dream since I was a little girl. My first teacher’s name was Mrs. Felling. She was beautiful and kind and had such a way with us kids. She could get us to do anything, learn anything, and that’s a real gift. Many teach but few are teachers. I was so young and stupid and scared. I knew I couldn’t raise a baby on my own. So when he told me that he’d keep me from becoming what I’d always wanted, I made a decision.”

Her grip on his hand tightened and she shifted her gaze back to him, her eyes clouded with memory and something else, grief.

“The couple that adopted him were from Boston. He was a truck driver and she worked in a bank. They couldn’t have children of their own but wanted them desperately. We agreed on a name for him the day he was born and three days later I said goodbye to him forever.”

Despite the sheen of sweat that coated her face, he could spot the tracks of her tears easily. They ran down the grooves that time had worn in her cheeks and disappeared below her chin.

“It was the biggest mistake of my life, one I never got over. He’s out there somewhere and I hope he’s safe. The last I heard he was a father himself with two children of his own, grandchildren that I’ll never meet. And I don’t deserve to meet them.”