Sleeper in the Valley

8.

**TRIGGER WARNING IN COMMENTS**

Diary of Nora Vivienne Holland

Nicky's crawling and speaking now. His speech is mostly babble, but sometimes he'll say "Mumma" and "Please", his voice sweet and small. And every time I call for Tom so he doesn't miss it. And the hollowness sinks in as I remember that he will never hear his son speak.

Today was Theresa's due date. I wonder if she would have lived had she been born later, or if she still would have been born dead. I'm having a hard time putting it into words when people ask, as they inevitably do. She was born, but dead? Is that it? Born but dead? Or was she dead but born?

I struggle with the thought that I caused her death through my grief. That I somehow killed her. I agonise over the idea that she died during my prolonged labour. That if I'd maybe pushed harder or earlier she would've been born alive. Instead she was born dead, or dead before she was born, whichever the hell it is. These are the thoughts that consume me until I can no longer stand it and help myself to a small glass of Tom's Scotch to numb my spinning mind.

Nikki comes over at least three times a week, helps me cook or do the laundry, or just sits and stares into space. Her hands are nearly permanently raw and blistered from the harsh detergents she uses when she cleans the wealthy homes and does their laundry. I often just let her sit in the lounge room and play with Nicky, who's always under my feet since he became mobile.

Neither of us have been the same since Theresa's birth, or death (I honestly don't know what to call it). I think we were pinning our hopes on Theresa to help us heal after Tom's death, though we haven't admitted it aloud. But that hope was dashed because Theresa is dead, just like Tom.

I confess to feeling guilty for thinking like that; it's not fair to Nicky, who's alive and breathing, growing and changing every day. Every day without fail he will do something that makes me smile or laugh, even if it hurts because he reminds me so much of Tom.

I wish I could talk to Tom about all of this, about how everything's changed. I wish I had somewhere that I could go and tell him how fast Nicky's growing, how every day is a little better and a little worse, because when I think that I've forgotten that he's gone forever, or I forget about Theresa for a moment, reality comes crashing back down and I'm left to pick up the pieces all over again.

**

Diary of Nora Vivienne Holland

Today's our wedding anniversary. Mother took Nicky for the day. I didn't want to ask that of Nikki and Dom, given how much they already do for us.

I put on my wedding dress and I laid Tom's suit out on the bed. It still smells like him.
I danced to our song with our wedding photo. I laid upon his suit and cried an ocean.
When I wasn't crying I slept, only to wake and cry again.

How am I to go on without you Tom?

How?

**

Diary of Nora Vivienne Holland

It's his birthday. He would've been 21. Now he'll be forever 20.

Nikki and Dom came over with Paddy. Harry and Sam are somewhere in France, fighting. Stupid boys. They're not old enough to die. None of those foolish boys are. Nikki spent most of the afternoon in the corner cuddling Nicky. I can't blame her. I do the same thing too.

I lit a candle this morning. Let it burn all day. Right before midnight, I sang "Happy Birthday" and blew it out.

Happy Birthday my love.

**

"Mother, what is wrong with you?!" I hiss, grabbing her arm and dragging her away from the church door, Nicky perched perilously on my hip.

"I'm just thinking of what's best for you and Nicolas" she says calmly, despite the fact that she is stumbling as I drag her along, my grip on her arm fierce. I hate how she refuses to call Nicky by his nickname. She never liked his name, always said that it was rude that Tom named him after Nikki. Doesn't seem to matter that his middle name is her Father's name.

"What's best for us is to not have strange men arriving on my doorstep thinking I'm going out on a date with them! And when I ask them all who the hell they are and just how they I know I'm single, not to mention where I live, they tell me you tell them! That you set up the dates, assuring them that I know exactly what's going on! Well, I don't and I don't want any more blind dates! I have a son who needs me, I don't have time for courting and -"

"Oh Nora, I'm just trying to help. After all, you cannot keep pining for a husband who is dead! You have to move on with your life" Mother replies primly.

"Are you serious?" I gasp, stopping abruptly. I let go of her arm as if she has burned me, stunned by her callous words.

"Honestly Nora. Tom wouldn't want you to waste the rest of your life moping just because he died!" she titters, readjusting her perfectly coiffed hair.

My arm flashes forward, my hand striking her cheek with a force I didn't know I was capable of. She staggers backwards, shocked. I am shocked too, shaking with fury, heart pounding heavily in my ears and I hold tighter onto Nicky as I readjust him on my hip

"If you tell another man at church that I'm single, or whatever else it is that you've been spouting to them, I will never, ever speak to you again and you will never see me or Nicky for as long as you live. Have I made myself clear?"

I speak calmly, despite the rage that boils in my blood. Nicky clings to me nervously, face buried in my shoulder. Mother gapes at me for a little longer, before nodding slowly. I turn on my heel and head for home, too furious to cry.

**
Diary of Nora Vivienne Holland

I've found the source of all my mysterious courters. Mother. She has gone too far. She's been talking me up to the single men at church, telling them I'm a good housewife and single. I even heard her whispering to one of them today, telling him I have child-bearing hips! As if I want to bear anyone else's children?! As if it's not enough, with all the judgemental glares I get about Theresa (as if I wanted my daughter to perish!), but now I'm the church hussy, opening my legs to any and all who come knocking!

When I confronted her she said it's time for me to move on. Move on! My heart has been ripped from my chest and she wants me to "move on"! As if I want to forget Tom, less than a year stolen from me. She even had the gall to say it's what he would've wanted.

What I want is my husband! But I can't have that, because some selfish fool started a stupid war, and now all of our hopes and dreams are gone and I don't know what to do anymore!

I just wish she could understand how it feels to have your whole life fall apart with a few well aimed bullets. It wasn't just you who died that day, my love.