Free The Light in the Wound by Christine Brae Page B

throughout my body. I missed him so much.
    “Oh wait, hey, are you wearing makeup too?”
    “You like it? Evie took me to this new store yesterday and I thought you’d like this color.”
    “Well, it’s nice. But ... I like you better without it. And since you only wear this for me, I’m telling you that you don’t have to wear any to school, okay?” His hands traveled up from my knee to my thigh as he said this, the vibration of his voice on my neck. “And this skirt. Way too short, Issy. No one should be able to see these legs but me.”
    “What are you saying Jess?”
    “What I’m saying is please, Issy, no makeup, fitted blouses or short skirts to school. Okay? Only with me. Only when we’re alone.” He tightened his grip on me.
    “Sure. But I just want to look good for you.”
    “You look perfect to me. You don’t have to do this for anyone else,” he whispered in my ear.
    Jesse took my hand and placed it on his jeans, beckoning me to pull his zipper down. The satisfied look on his face assured me that I was able to appease him by the time Bernard stopped in front of his house.

 

     
     

 
     
    “If all you can do is crawl, start crawling.”
    —Rumi
     
     
    Alicia gave birth to a healthy baby girl during my freshman year at college. We named her Chelsea and she brought the happiest, most radiant abundance of sunshine into our home that year. I was constantly pushing Alicia and Carter out the door for every opportunity to babysit this wonderful new member of our family. Gracie was already six at that time and she played the role of little, big sister to a hilt. It was heartwarming to watch her relationship with the baby. Meanwhile, my mother was undergoing another breakdown in her relationship. It looked like Mr. Glass had decided to go back to his wife and family. I walked into the house one late night, after attending a party with Jesse, to find my mother sprawled out on the floor right outside her bedroom door. Mr. Glass had locked her out of their room because she had threatened him with a knife. My mother was begging and crying, pleading for him to let her back in. I knocked on Alicia’s door and asked her for some help in getting Mom to my bed. As we both guided her slowly down the hall and away from her bedroom, she muttered to us that she had swallowed the whole bottle of Seconal. Instead of continuing to my bedroom, we were calling for the ambulance.
     

     
    It had been two weeks since my mother was confined to the ICU and then transferred back to the hospital basement. Alicia and I visited her in the early evenings. She was listless, tired and always asleep. The doctors said that she would have to be transferred to a rehabilitation facility on the outskirts of the city. Mr. Glass had moved out by then, and I was worried about the financing for her treatment. I had access to the household checking account, but my mother was basically living off her allowance from her parents. Mr. Glass had not contributed a single cent to the maintenance of the house while he lived there with my mother, his mistress.
     

     
    One evening I asked Bernard to drive me over to the big house. My grandparents were back for a brief stay before going back to Canada to manage their business. As we drove up the expansive white driveway, all my memories of the house came flooding back to me. The house had always felt foreign to me but more so now, given the reason for my visit. I had to make an appointment to see them. Their secretary tried to squeeze me in immediately, but I insisted on finding a time that was most suitable for them. I sat at the entrance of the home, on the marble steps surrounded by the koi pond. I dipped my finger in the water and one of the bigger orange fish swam up to suck on it. I laughed and pulled my finger back and repeated it a few times. For a few minutes, I was lost in reminiscent thoughts about this home, the many parties I had witnessed over the years and the opulence that