Part 28 (1/2)

She'd think about it later, when all those Valentines were done. The days seemed to be speeded up-time was moving like electricity, the meter-hands whirring around, ticking away money and energy and life.

On Tuesday, Clary went to the hospital in the afternoon, because Lorraine had left a message asking to see her. She left the children at home with Mrs. Pell in case Lorraine needed help with anything complicated.

She thought she had the wrong room. Lorraine was not there, and the bed was stripped. But-they were saying that she was doing well-she could not be- Not dead, no. She was in the washroom, the door slightly open, brus.h.i.+ng her teeth. Wearing clothes.

”Lorraine?” Clary said, her voice sounding weirdly ordinary. ”Are you all right?”

Lorraine spat into the sink and rinsed, and stood up. She dried her toothbrush with a white hospital washcloth and put it in her toilet bag.

”I'm good,” she said. ”I'm really good.”

Clary stood in the middle of the room. The other bed was empty too-what had happened to that poor woman?

Lorraine said, ”They say I can go home.”

Clary did not speak, for a second. Then she shook her head, and smiled, and shrugged her shoulders.

”Wonderful!” she said.

”Yes, so I'm going.”

”Well, of course!”

”Clayton's got us a place, we'll go over there this afternoon.”

That did not make sense. Clary's chest was tight.

Lorraine went to the closet and added her toilet bag to the already-packed suitcase.

”Seems pretty amazing to be getting out of here,” she said. She moved a pile of magazines from the closet to the bed.

”But, Lorraine,” Clary said. Then she didn't know how to continue. All her bones moved downwards, as if in deeper gravity.

”He's gone to get Dolly from school, and he'll get them packed up, but I wanted to tell you about it alone,” Lorraine said.

She was carefully meeting Clary's eyes, every step of the way, every word she said. Not shying away from it, even though it would be bad. Clary looked like she'd been punched, but hadn't figured out what had happened yet. Lorraine thought her own face must have looked like that, her first day in here.

”Does Darwin-?” Clary was speaking too slowly.

”He phoned last night from Vancouver, I told him they would be letting me go home.”

”Did he say-”

”He said, to give you a kiss from him.”

Lorraine did not move, but Clary flinched anyway.

”So, Clary, I have to say thanks for everything,” Lorraine said. ”There isn't any way to thank you for looking after my kids all this time. But I know I owe you big time.”

Inside the hollow globe of her head Clary was unable to figure this all out. She fought the pressure in her chest. She stood up straight, making more room for air.

”You're-Clayton has a place? Not the room?”

”It's okay, he says. An older building but they're renovating, and our suite is already done. He'll be the part-time super, there's a little money in it. Looks like a good deal.”

”Where?”

Lorraine stopped talking.

Clary asked again, ”Where is the apartment?”

Lorraine looked at her without smiling. ”They are our kids.”

”Well, I realize that.” Her legs were shaking. ”I realize that. But if you are planning to move them out of the school district, they would have to transfer, and which school would they be-”

”It's in City Park,” Lorraine said. ”It's not a bad place. It's an older building, a little run down, but it's what we can afford. The kids will be fine.”

”You're not ready, though! This is impossible. You can't-you can't look after children in this state. And Clayton! You think he can manage them?”

But that was enough, for Lorraine.

”You can't stop thinking of us as low-cla.s.s, you can't stop!” she said. ”You keep thinking you're better than me, even though you try not to. It's built into your whole life. But we're the same as you, we're just the same.”

Clary felt hot tears welling up, like tears of blood. To be accused of prejudice, when she had worked so hard-how could Lorraine think so? She would, she would think so, with her trailer-park ignorance. Shocked, Clary smacked the thought away, but it was there. Less worthy. Less human.

Lorraine said, ”Here's the difference between us: you got taken to the dentist more, and your mother filled your head with stuck-up s.h.i.+t about how great you are, and you got to live in the same house all your life. That's most of it. You went to school for longer, and you worked in a clean office instead of cleaning the office. You have a better-looking face and better-looking clothes, and that gives you some feeling that you're better than me.”

”I don't, I don't. You're mistaken.”

”I'm trying to tell you how it is for me,” Lorraine said. ”Here it is: it's the same as it is for you.”

Her eyes were hard to look at.

”When you're hurting because you have to lose Pearce, that means you know exactly how I hurt to lose him. I don't have less feelings because I don't know the words to say them, I don't have less to say to my kids because it's not always-” She shook her head sharply. ”It's not just grammar. You think I'm not as good for them as you are.”

”You're right,” Clary said, sadly. The tears had receded, and the hot blood behind them. It was too important, it was the children. She could not be silent or polite, there was only now to say it. ”It's not you, it's Clayton. I think it will be-hard for him to look after you all well enough.” Still polite after all.

”Well, he gets to give it a try,” Lorraine said, not angry any more. She gathered her paintbrushes from the water-cup and set things in place in the paintbox. ”He was doing okay until you crashed into us.”

That was the first time she had mentioned the accident since it happened. She had not blamed Clary for it then.

”But what will happen to you if things get hard-if you run out of money? You can't work, you have to be careful. You can't leave the hospital behind, or head for Fort McMurray-and the children, they need stability, and their ordinary life, not to be shunted around the country living from hand to mouth.”

”We are their ordinary life, not you,” Lorraine said. She stopped, the cup still in her hand, and looked straight at Clary, piercing her with the stern arrows of her eyes. ”The kids don't give a rat's a.s.s whether they have money or a nice house, they just want me and Clayton with them. They love us. Him too, not just me. Don't kid yourself. You are a babysitter, to them. They'll be glad to leave you.”

Clary didn't speak. She was having trouble with her ribs, like a st.i.tch. They didn't seem to want to expand properly to let her breathe.

”It's not your fault that you don't get it,” Lorraine said, red smears of rouge bright on her cheeks. ”You never had kids of your own, and you weren't very well brought up.”