slipping out of my grasp.
“Mommy’s coming right back, Cass-” The bathroom door opened and Cindy
rushed out, wiping her eyes. I expected her to grab Cassie away but
she just held out her hands and said, “Please,” mouthing the word over
Cassie’s shrieks and looking as if she expected me to withhold her
child.
I handed Cassie back to her.
She hugged the little girl and started to circle the room very fast.
Taking large, hard steps that made her thin thighs quiver, and
muttering things to Cassie that I couldn’t hear.
Two dozen circuits and Cassie’s cries got softer. Another dozen and
she was quiet.
Cindy kept moving, but as she passed me she said, “I’m sorry I really
am. I’m sorry.”
Her eyes and cheeks were wet. I told her it was okay. The sound of my
voice made Cassie crank up again.
Cindy began walking faster, saying, “Baby, baby, baby.”
I went over to the play table and sat as best I could on one of the
tiny chairs. The welcome cardboard stared up at me like some kind of
sick joke.
A few moments later, gasps and sucking sobs took the place of Cassie’s
cries. Then she silenced and I saw that her eyes were closed.
Cindy returned to the rocking chair and began to whisper harshly: “I’m
really, really, really sorry. I’m so- That was- God I’m a horrible
mother!”
Barely audible, but the anguish in her voice opened Cassie’s eyes. The
little girl stared up at her mother and mewled.
“No, no, baby, it’s okay. I’m sorry-it’s okay.”
Mouthing to me: “I’m horrible.”
Cassie started to cry again.
“No, no, it’s okay, honey. I’m good. If you want me to be good, I’m
good. I’m a good mommy, yes, I am, yes-yes, honey, everything’s
okay.
Okay?”
Forcing herself to smile down at Cassie. Cassie reached up and touched
one of Cindy’s cheeks.
“Oh, you are so good, little girl,” said Cindy, in a crumbling voice.
“You are so good to your mommy. You are so, so good!”
“Ma ma.”
“Mama loves you.”
“Ma ma.”
“You’re so good to your mama. Cassie Brooks Jones is the best girl,
the sweetest girl.”
Ma ma. Mamama.”
“Mama loves you so much. Mama loves you so much.” Cindy looked at
me.
Looked at the play table.
“Mama loves you,” she said into Cassie’s ear. And Dr. Delaware’s a
very good friend, honey. Here, see?”
She turned Cassie’s head toward me. I tried another smile, hoping it
looked better than it felt.
Cassie shook her head violently and said, “Nuh!”
“Remember, he’s our friend, honey? All those pretty drawings he did
for you at the hospita-” “Nuh!”
“The animals-” “Nub nuh!”
“C’mon, honey, there’s nothing to be scared of-” “Nuuuh!”
“Okay, okay. It’s okay, Cass.”
I got up.
Are you going?” said Cindy. Alarm in her voice.
I pointed to the bathroom. “May I?”
“Oh. Sure. There’s one just off the entry hall too.”
“This is fine.”
“Sure. . . Meantime, I’ll try to calm her down I’m really, really
sorry.”
I locked the door and the one leading to the master bedroom, flushed
the toilet, and let out my breath. The water was as blue as the
tiles.
I found myself staring down at a tiny azure whirlpool. Turning on the
water, I washed my face and dried it, catching a glimpse of myself in
the mIrror.
Dire and old with suspicion. I tried on a few smiles, finally settled
on one that didn’t approximate the leer of a used-car salesman.
The mirror was the face of a medicine cabinet.
Child-proof latch. I undid it.
Four shelves. I turned the water up full blast, rifled quickly,
starting at the top and working down.
Aspirin, Tylenol, razor blades, shaving cream. Men’s cologne,
deodorant, an emery board, a bottle of liquid antacid. A small yellow
box of spermicidal jelly capsules. Hydrogen peroxide, a tube of
earwax-dissolving ointment, suntan lotion.
I closed the cabinet. When I turned off the water I heard Cindy’s
voice through the door, saying something comforting and maternal.
Until she’d thrust Cassie at me, the little girl had accepted me.
Maybe I’m not supposed to be a mother. . . I’m a horrible mother.