Bec nods, slips off the stool, and expertly crosses to the refrigerator. Her fingers travel over the bottles on cold shelves and bump over organized Tupperware until she finds a smooth white bottle. She lifts the creamer in an invisible question.
“No thanks, I’m good.” Crystal rolls up the plans and rummages in her bag. “Do you mind if I just retake a few measurements?”
“Knock yourself out.”
“I’ll try and be quiet so I don’t wake Jackson.”
“Oh, he’s fine. Noise machine.”
Crystal walks through the dining room off the kitchen and into the formal living room that wraps to the base of the stairs. Her hand snakes along the worn banister. She makes another mental note to check for sales with her wood guy. Bec should have something sleek and modern.
At the top, she turns left toward the master bedroom. Is it strange to sleep in your mother’s old room? She couldn’t imagine. She tentatively steps inside. But it’s probably easier than staying in her old marital room. Once Paul died, she’d made their master bedroom the guest room and transformed their office into the master. She couldn’t lie there night after night and think of him. No. Massive action. That was what it took to change a life.
That’s what she is going to do to help Bec change hers too. She is going to change the interior of this house so it will feel like Rebecca’s home—not her mother’s. Not her childhood home. A new, fresh start for a new life.
She rolls her eyes at the cheesy affirmations she’s plucked from grief group and turns to the task at hand. In the bedroom, she measures the windows and adjusts her last calculations. She winds down the hallway and pauses outside of Jackson’s room. His noise machine whirs. She remembers when Savi was so tiny. She used to watch her sleep and marvel at how she’d made something so delicate, and then she’d wait to feel what she was supposed to feel. She didn’t even want to touch her or pick her up. She was afraid she’d break.
Paul was the one who’d done most of the heavy lifting during the first year of Savi’s life. He never made her feel bad about it. Instead, he’d just loop an arm around her shoulder and say, “It will get better. You’ll see.” Every week, every month, every season. Until she’d woken up one day and that gaping hole in her chest had hardened into something else: motherhood. This was her child. It was her job to protect her. Through it all, Paul had never given up on her. Once she was safely on the other side, he’d kiss the nape of her neck and whisper, “See? I knew you’d make it.”
She lightly touches her neck now, her fingers grazing that spot that used to drive her crazy. She hastily pulls her hand away. If she’d known all that was coming, she would have tried harder. She would have told him how much she appreciated him every single day.
Where had the time gone? Savi is already ten, her childhood punctured by the grief that comes from unexpectedly losing a parent. It devastates her now to realize she and Paul had been so busy working to make ends meet, that what they’d really missed was spending as much time together as a family as they could … before they weren’t.
She bypasses Jackson’s room and opens the door to the guest room. Dust dances in front of the naked window. It smells musty, like there might have been a water leak at one point. How did she miss that? She checks the ceiling for stains and spots one on the far corner, a rusted brown patch she’ll have her contractor check out. She measures for drapes and then leans against the window.
Down below, a few moms distractedly follow kids on bikes. Two neighbors water perfectly emerald lawns, waving and chatting over the spray. A young girl in a watermelon bathing suit sprints through a sprinkler and giggles. She thinks of Savi at that age, how simple life seemed. She thought she’d gotten through the hard stuff—Savi’s first year—and it would be relatively smooth sailing from there.
Wrong.
The Metra train rumbles past a few streets away. The setting down below is so idyllic. There’s no room for grief in a town like this, and yet she’s drowning in it. But so is Bec, she reminds herself. Even though she puts on a brave face for the world, Crystal knows what she must feel in her quietest moments. Those moments reserved for the widowed. And yet they still have to get up every day, get dressed, make money, and take care of their kids.
She steps away from the window and rolls her own shoulders in an attempt to relax. She longs for a time when she is no longer getting through something but will instead be on the other side of it.
On the way back down the hall, she stops at the landing. This time, she closes her eyes. Her world tilts. She reaches for the banister. Vertigo. She toes the edge of the stairs and second-guesses gravity as she lowers herself inch by inch. She descends until she misses a step and opens her eyes before she falls.
“Jesus,” she whispers. She turns to look at the battered staircase. She’s always had a thing about stairs: a fear of falling down them, a fear of dropping Savi as a child, a fear of being pushed. What must this be like for Bec to go up and down blind with a baby? Crystal rounds the corner. Bec is audibly perusing emails. Crystal clears her throat and stabs a finger behind her.
“Have you thought about the stairs?”
She stops what she’s doing. “What about them?”
“I mean, for safety. With Jackson.”
She shrugs. “I’m used to them.” She closes her laptop. She scoots forward on the stool. “But it’s crazy you just said that, because lately I’ve been having nightmares about those stairs.” She shakes her head. A few strands escape her bun. Her shocking green eyes slide back and forth under the harsh kitchen lights.
Crystal waits for her to explain, but she doesn’t. She sips her coffee, now cold, and tops it off. “I used to have the same fear about the stairs,” she offers. “The spiral staircase we have now…” She shivers. “Let me come up with some creative ideas for you. Some safety features at least. It would make me feel better to know you have a better system in place.”
“Sure.” Bec smiles. “And I’d still love to come to your place sometime. I’m sure you’re tired of coming over here.”
No one has been to their house except Pam. “When I get the place set up, we’d love to have you over. It’s just such a mess right now.”
I’m such a mess right now.
From upstairs, Jackson begins to cry. Bec fingers her braille watch. “See? He does cry.” She waits for him to quiet, and miraculously, he does. “Did you get what you need?”
Crystal nods. “I did. Thanks.” She checks the time. “I’ll get out of your hair.” She walks toward the door and re-shoulders her purse. On her way out, she turns. “Are you still okay to give Savi a cello lesson tomorrow?”
Bec winks. “Highlight of my week.”
“I’ll be sure to tell her that. Have a good one. Call me if you need anything.” Crystal pauses before leaving, the hairs on the back of her neck pricking to attention as she passes the stairs.
“Bye, Crystal.”
She ignores the eerie feeling and waves. “Bye, Bec.”
6
CRYSTAL
At home, Crystal slides the key into the lock. The house is much too large for her and Savi without Paul, but she wants Savi to grow up in a good neighborhood with good schools. As if the goodness could somehow erase her daughter’s grief.