Night, Forgotten

Original Edition - Chapter 27: Now

Perinatal Mood Disorders is still on the bedside table. I leave it there, open to a chapter somewhere in the middle, so Owen will notice and know that I've been putting in an effort. He left this book here for me to find, obviously, so I want to show him that I'm taking his suggestion seriously.

Especially now that his mother's living here.

For the few days that she's been with us so far, Diana has kept to herself, mostly taking care of household chores and doting on Thomas. But I can see her poisoning Owen's opinion of me with every sideways glance and passive aggressive comment. If Owen sees that I'm at least trying to do my part, maybe he'll agree to send his mother home.

That would create a more stable situation for Sadie, anyway. This morning, Father Eagan dropped her off at our house with a miniature pink suitcase. She's staying with us for the weekend, or maybe longer, depending on whether Diana decides to go back to Boston.

Especially since Paula's gruesome suicide, Diana hasn't wanted to let Sadie spend more than a few nights at a time away from her, neither with her godfather nor any of the other volunteers from St. Catherine's. She wants to have as much control as possible over what the little girl learns about her mother's death.

Her worst fear, I overheard Diana say to Owen once, was that Sadie would grow up to face the same mental health issues as her mother. I wonder how Diana would react if Sadie did begin to abuse substances a decade or so from now.

Oh, my god. It hasn't occurred to me before now, but Diana probably thinks I'm using drugs. That would explain why she agreed to move in with us until I can get my shit together as a mother. It would also explain the way she ignores me and, recently, physically shrinks away from me with revulsion.

If this is how Diana treated Paula when Paula was addicted to heroin, it's amazing that she hasn't learned a lesson from the outcome. I'm not currently taking any medications, let alone using recreational drugs, but if I were struggling with addiction, Diana's judgmental attitude sure as hell wouldn't be helping the situation.

Maybe Sadie's carefree, wide-eyed presence will bring some much-needed joy into our house. She'll be sharing a bed with Diana since she refuses to sleep in the third bedroom, the nursery, where we inflated an air mattress for her. It's not just that Sadie adores Diana and wants to be near her all the time, although she does.

It's that she thinks our house is haunted and she doesn't want to sleep alone.

It hasn't stopped raining since she arrived this morning in Father Eagan's Oldsmobile. Stuck inside for the day, she's been easy to keep entertained. Diana provides her with a huge box of crayons and a pile of coloring books, and that activity holds her attention for hours.

Then she begs Owen to read to her from our "fancy books" in the parlor, even though they don't have any pictures in them. I think she just enjoys listening to the warm timbre of his voice.

After her nap, Sadie joins me at the big bay window in the parlor. Owen is still napping in the red rocking chair before the glowing embers in the hearth, and Diana is upstairs feeding Thomas.

Sadie and I watch the raindrops as they burst on the front walk. Their fat little bodies splash open violently on the red brick surface.

Suddenly, the raindrop I'm watching becomes Paula, still alive for a moment, falling down, down, past open- mouthed shoppers on the mall's mezzanine level, and landing with a wet, sickening thud.

Dead.

To distract myself from fantasies of suicidal raindrops, I whisper to Sadie, "Do you know the song about the rain and the old man?"