Edward

Chapter Twenty-Three

Washington, DC - 2019

Alexander is bundled up and he's looking adorable in the little fall outfit mom got for him. It's Gap and I know Carol would never have considered a little baby gap outfit. She's said before that some of his baby clothes are "fast fashion," especially those trendy ones mom likes to buy: little pea coats and suspenders. Besides my understanding of fast fashion has more to do with exploitation of workers in other countries -the corporation stocks the Clarks hold large shares in. Fast fashion doesn't typically refer to affordable clothes on aesthetic grounds.

Anyway. This is where my thoughts take me as I dress Alexander in the blue jeans, blue and black plaid button down shirt and gray cardigan with leather elbow patches. I have the little cotton cap mom knitted for him. I'm lifting him from the changing table when the phone chimes. It's Edward- again. I know it's you, Edward, without looking at my phone. I don't want to ignore you because to me it's engaging with you. At the same time, a little bit of my altered thinking remains, just the faintest evidence of the poison that infected me six months ago. It's the logic like a tic and I think it will be with me all the time-from now on like an obsessive compulsive disorder that one learns to live with-develops cognitive strategies for but even at that, those cognitive strategies scare me too. It's superstition or maybe it's intuition but as much as I want to go to therapy just as you say, work through the affair but more the trauma, I just want to walk on solid ground. The house seems to hum with lurking mental illness when you are not here. The shadows are just that, shadows. Maybe it is like you said PTSD and I associate it with you-maybe that is true but still you are bad luck. Still, despite what you say and I think it's true, honestly I do Edward but despite your explanation that having a son was triggering, my mental illness was triggering, and as you say "my unwillingness to talk to you about the night your father attacked me;" despite all of that you still made the choice to be with Lenore. You did. And for all your remorse I saw the images of you two out on dates, expensive dinners while I was in the psychiatric hospital with postpartum depression turned psychosis. That happened-you made that happen. And even now if I were to go on Lenore's page then I would see that those pictures are still there. And worst of all I can't help but believe you didn't feed that in her. Her calls and texts to me—a part of me believes that's you.

My phone beeps again and I shake my head—every time I slip into these thoughts, this narrative. You. you. you.

I look at the screen and pick up alexander.

"Can we talk?"

I hit dial on the phone and ring you.

"Annie-are you busy."

"Yes. I'm just about to take Maddy and Alex to the park and then I'm going by Sven and Allen."

"An interview?"
"Interview? I don't exactly have to interview Edward. I can go back to work anytime."

"I know."
"No. I'm just going to say hi and Camille wants to meet Alexander. She hasn't seen Maddy in forever. We're going to lunch."

Alexander is squirming. He's crawling now and that's all he wants to do. It's more exhausting with him than with Maddy because Maddy would be engrossed in play with Edward or me sitting beside her."

"I want to come home."

I walk into Maddy's room. And she's in her closet where she's made a "set up" books and blocks and little plastic animals. She's taped papers - looks like scraps from a torn book but she's say they're family pictures.

"Hang on a minute" I say to Edward. Then, I turn my attention to Maddy "what are you doing Maddy?"
"they are in my set up."

I see two of her picture books on the floor just outside of the closet on the shag white rug she's pulled closer to the closet. "Did you tear up your book. Oh Maddy look. It's where the wild things are." I don't think twice and I say to you "she's torn up her books."