Status: On hold
Fragments
chapter 4: part 3
The night was unbearably dark. Grace Larne crossed her arms and shivered, staring at the stars in the sky, grinning down at her almost sinisterly. She was outside in winter and though winters didn’t get that cold where she lived, she could feel the winter’s chill in her toes and the tip of her nose.
It had been a year since she gave the child away, the little baby girl she almost wanted to keep in her arms, until she remembered herself. She handed the tiny fragile thing away like an old toy or a shirt that had grown too small but was still perfectly alright. And now, she missed her with an awful ache in the pit of her stomach.
Grace knew the phone number and address of the woman who’d reached out her arms and taken the baby willingly away. There was nothing wrong with Grace, at least on the surface; this meant she was allowed to see her daughter. But she never called, never went near the house the baby now lived in, growing up with a mother that wasn’t her mother. She couldn’t bring herself to do it.
Grace tiptoed back inside, toes stuck on frozen, because she’d stupidly gone out in bare feet. Her parents were asleep, upstairs in their bedroom, going through one of those cease-fire periods in which the fighting stopped for just a little while. They fought over everything: money, food, work, politics, their daughter, their son, everything. It made the household cold and distant at the best of times.
She stepped over to the table that held a telephone and debated over whether or not she should call. Somehow, she was calm, waves of peacefulness breaking over her as her skinny fingers brushed over the smooth surface of the phone. It almost seemed to call to her, luring her in, this possibility of hearing the infant voice that was created by her and – well, by someone else.
She mouthed his name silently, longing embedded in her blood. Half of her wished that she’d kept the only thing she had left of him – but it was that dreadful baby that had caused him to leave her behind and never be able to come back. Grace closed her eyes. Oh, she missed him so much. She could almost feel his breath on her again, his smell around her, his smile at the littlest things.
Sighing, she lifted the handset of the phone and pressed her fingers to the numbers she knew off by heart, despite the fact that she’d never dialled them. But now she was, and her heart hammered in her chest. Her cheeks were flushed and she startled at the smallest sound.
On the third ring, someone answered. It was only ten o’clock at night and it wasn’t so unreasonable to be awake at this time. It seemed Grace’s parents were people who usually went to be bed early – unless they stayed up, fighting.
“Hello?” the woman said, her voice cheerfully fake, exhaustion wearing through the cracks. In the background, a baby was crying, the wails pitifully miserable. Was that her baby? Grace wondered.
“Hello?” she repeated, annoyance soaking through her polite pretence. Grace listened to one more cry before letting the handset slip back into its spot, hanging up on the woman who’d wasted her time to answer this one phone call.
Grace slumped against the wall, suddenly exhausted. She could feel him beside her again, whispering for her to sleep, telling her the worries could wait until morning.
It had been a year since she gave the child away, the little baby girl she almost wanted to keep in her arms, until she remembered herself. She handed the tiny fragile thing away like an old toy or a shirt that had grown too small but was still perfectly alright. And now, she missed her with an awful ache in the pit of her stomach.
Grace knew the phone number and address of the woman who’d reached out her arms and taken the baby willingly away. There was nothing wrong with Grace, at least on the surface; this meant she was allowed to see her daughter. But she never called, never went near the house the baby now lived in, growing up with a mother that wasn’t her mother. She couldn’t bring herself to do it.
Grace tiptoed back inside, toes stuck on frozen, because she’d stupidly gone out in bare feet. Her parents were asleep, upstairs in their bedroom, going through one of those cease-fire periods in which the fighting stopped for just a little while. They fought over everything: money, food, work, politics, their daughter, their son, everything. It made the household cold and distant at the best of times.
She stepped over to the table that held a telephone and debated over whether or not she should call. Somehow, she was calm, waves of peacefulness breaking over her as her skinny fingers brushed over the smooth surface of the phone. It almost seemed to call to her, luring her in, this possibility of hearing the infant voice that was created by her and – well, by someone else.
She mouthed his name silently, longing embedded in her blood. Half of her wished that she’d kept the only thing she had left of him – but it was that dreadful baby that had caused him to leave her behind and never be able to come back. Grace closed her eyes. Oh, she missed him so much. She could almost feel his breath on her again, his smell around her, his smile at the littlest things.
Sighing, she lifted the handset of the phone and pressed her fingers to the numbers she knew off by heart, despite the fact that she’d never dialled them. But now she was, and her heart hammered in her chest. Her cheeks were flushed and she startled at the smallest sound.
On the third ring, someone answered. It was only ten o’clock at night and it wasn’t so unreasonable to be awake at this time. It seemed Grace’s parents were people who usually went to be bed early – unless they stayed up, fighting.
“Hello?” the woman said, her voice cheerfully fake, exhaustion wearing through the cracks. In the background, a baby was crying, the wails pitifully miserable. Was that her baby? Grace wondered.
“Hello?” she repeated, annoyance soaking through her polite pretence. Grace listened to one more cry before letting the handset slip back into its spot, hanging up on the woman who’d wasted her time to answer this one phone call.
Grace slumped against the wall, suddenly exhausted. She could feel him beside her again, whispering for her to sleep, telling her the worries could wait until morning.