Unhinge - Calia Read Page 0,107

closed the curtains, and got to work. No box went untouched. Clothes were hung. I put the mattress back where it belonged. The rocking chair was placed in the corner. I draped a yellow crochet blanket on the back of the chair. Diapers and lotions were placed on the changing table. I couldn’t hang anything on the wall yet since I didn’t have a clue which box the nails and hammer were packed in. Tomorrow I would search for them and hang the pictures.

I didn’t know what time it was, but I wasn’t stopping until everything was back where it belonged.

When I was down to the last two boxes, I finally sat with my back pressed against the crib and dragged one box in between my legs. It wasn’t taped shut. The flaps were tucked in on each other. On the side, in black permanent marker were the words VICTORIA’S STUFF.

The second I opened it I was hit with a musty smell. I scrunched my nose and covered it with my T-shirt. There was nothing but a bunch of homemade arts and crafts. Baby dresses that I assumed I wore as a baby. A small scrapbook filled with pictures of me. At the very bottom was a beautiful baby doll.

I gasped and reached for her. I remembered this doll. As a little girl I carried her everywhere. Her name was Evelyn. She had the most beautiful blue eyes. Her cheeks were rosy. She was wearing a white crinoline dress. The skirt was wrinkled, but the dress itself was in pristine condition. On her feet were small red Mary Janes.

Looking at her brought the biggest smile to my face. This doll used to give me so much happiness. Not a single bad memory was attached to her.

I put the rest of my childhood belongings back in the box, but Evelyn stayed outside. She belonged in here. I stood up and placed her on the rocking chair. “You belong right here, don’t you?”

She just smiled.

Exhaustion started to take over. Yet I didn’t want to leave this room. So I grabbed my comforter from the bare master bedroom and padded back to the baby’s room. This time, when I lay in the middle of the room with the comforter tucked beneath my chin, I fell asleep.

—

I woke up a few hours later.

At first I forgot. I had forgotten everything that had happened, but all too quickly it hit me and I couldn’t breathe.

I didn’t cry.

I didn’t sob.

I didn’t breathe.

I just curled up into a ball and stared at the other side of the room. I felt so much pain. It wouldn’t stop at me. If I let it go it would attack everyone else. So I held it deep inside me.

—

Another day passed.

And then another. I ate very little and slept even less. Renee and my mother called. I told them I was fine. The doorbell was constantly ringing. I never answered it. Sometimes there was pounding that never ended.

My eyes kept fluttering open and shut. I would get only two to three hours of sleep and then it was dark again.

This routine lasted for days.

“What am I going to do?” I asked Evelyn.

Lately I had been talking to her a lot. She never replied, but this time she cried.

I sat upright and crawled across the floor until my face was level with Evelyn’s. Then she blinked at me, looking me straight in the face.

Her arms moved, reaching out toward me. Fingers spread.

She wanted me to hold her. And a slow smile spread across my face. When I picked her up she rested her head against my chest. For the first time in days I felt happy. Complete.

The longer I held her, the more solid my heartbeat became. I could hear it beating in tune with this beautiful baby.

Evelyn. My beautiful baby Evelyn.

Tears spilled down my cheeks. This was my baby. I never lost her to begin with.

“Hi, sweetheart,” I whispered gently.

She stared up at me with her beautiful blue eyes. I cradled her for the rest of the night. A few times I dozed off but it was never for long. I couldn’t stop staring at her.

My daughter.

Early in the morning, before the sun was up, Evelyn started to fuss. I went downstairs and made her a bottle. In the quiet of the house I fed her, feeling better than ever.

This routine spanned the next few days. I was on cloud nine. Everything was clicking into place. The sharp, aching pain in