Room 14's Secret novel · Chapter 3 of 24

Chapter 3: Three Squeezes

Quinton and Giselle stage a filmed visit with the girls, Posy refuses to lie for the camera, and she whispers that she knows her mother is pretending.

On Tuesday afternoon two aides wheeled me into the day room and parked me by the window.

I knew something was wrong when they combed my hair.

Nobody had combed my hair in nineteen days.

"Visitors," the younger aide said, to no one, and tied the strings of my gown.

The day room had four armchairs, a stack of puzzles with missing pieces, and a television bolted to the wall.

I let my head tip to the side and my hands lie open in my lap.

The door opened.

"Mommy's resting, but she's so happy you came," Giselle's voice said, bright and low. "Let's walk slowly. Remember what we talked about."

Small shoes crossed the floor.

I kept my eyes half closed and watched through my lashes.

Posy was wearing her yellow raincoat, the one she refuses to take off.

Her braids were tight and uneven.

Quinton had done them, or Giselle had.

The baby rode on Giselle's hip with her fist in her mouth.

Quinton came in last with his phone out, already filming.

"For the clerk," he said to the nurse. "Just a few minutes."

My throat closed and I made myself stay slack.

Posy stopped three steps away.

"Go on, sweetheart," Giselle said. "She can't hear you very well. Say hi."

"Hi, Mommy."

Her voice was careful and flat, the voice of a child who has been told what to say.

I did not blink.

"Tell Mommy about the nice weekend we had," Giselle said.

"We went to the aquarium," Posy said. "Aunt Giselle let me feed the stingrays."

"And do you remember what we said Mommy did at the pool?"

Quinton's phone swung toward Posy.

There was no pool.

There was a night in August when Quinton had found me in the backyard in my nightgown with the baby asleep on my shoulder.

I had no memory of walking out there.

I had had three cups of his tea.

He said I had gone to the water. I said I had never been near it.

He filmed me crying about it for twenty minutes and showed the film to the doctor.

"Posy," Giselle said gently. "Tell the nice camera what Mommy did."

Posy looked at her shoes.

"I don't want to," she said.

Nobody spoke.

"That's all right, honey," Giselle said, and her smile didn't change. "We can do that another day."

Quinton lowered the phone a few inches.

"Maybe she should sit with her for a minute," he said.

The baby stared at me from Giselle's hip.

She took her fist from her mouth.

"Mama?" she said.

It had three As and a wobble at the end, and I felt it in the middle of my chest.

"Mama's sick, baby," Giselle said. "Let's wave."

I did not move one finger.

I thought about the nurse in the doorway, the cameras in the corners, and the judge on Friday.

If I broke now, Giselle would have the video and a new doctor's note by dinner.

Posy walked over slowly.

She stood in front of my chair and looked up at me for a long time.

Then she climbed into my lap, even though Giselle said, "Careful, sweetie."

She was heavier than I remembered, and her hair smelled of the wrong shampoo.

She laid her head on my chest and I felt her listen.

My hand lay open beside her, and she took it in both of hers.

She squeezed three times.

It was our signal, since she was two, for I love you.

I felt it go through my whole body.

My fingers closed before I could stop them.

It was the smallest squeeze I have ever given.

Posy went still.

Quinton was talking quietly to the nurse about the visiting schedule and Giselle was jiggling the baby and looking out the window.

Nobody was watching us.

Posy lifted her face until her mouth was next to my ear.

"I know you're pretending, Mommy," she whispered. "I didn't tell."

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