I’m barely able to get to the bathroom and turn on the shower. I make the water so hot that it hurts as it beats against my body, punishing me for my horrible thoughts and for what the voices are telling me. I let the water continue to rain down on my back like stone pellets. When I finally turn it off and step out, I stand naked and dripping wet in front of the large mirror. My skin stings, and it’s bright red and blotchy. My eyes are sunken and dark. I look as if I’ve aged ten years. I’m leaning in closer, running a hand through my wet hair, when suddenly something moves behind me in the mirror, making me jump.
“Mommy, what are you doing?”
I spin around to see Valentina standing there, a look of confusion on her face. “You’re all wet.” She takes a towel from the rack and hands it to me. “Here.”
She smiles up at me, and I start to cry.
Her face clouds. “Why are you crying, Mommy? Are you sad?”
I wrap the towel around me and kneel, putting my arms on her shoulders. “No, I’m not sad. It just made me cry because you’re so sweet, and I’m so glad you’re my little girl. Sometimes when we cry it means we’re happy.”
This seems to appease her, and she’s back to my sunny girl. “Now,” I say. “Why don’t you go get dressed while Mommy does, and we can go downstairs together for breakfast.”
“Okay.” She skips away, stopping in the doorway to look back at me. “Daddy is coming home today, right?”
My stomach sinks. “Yes. That’s right,” I say. What will Julian say if I tell him I’m hearing voices again? What if I ran away two years ago because I was afraid I’d hurt Valentina? I ponder this as I find clothes for the day. Maybe the voices are just in my head—my unconscious warning me—and that’s why I only hear them when I’m here, near Valentina. I pull a red cashmere sweater over my head and slip my feet into a comfortable pair of house shoes. I’m not sure how much weight I’ve lost, but the waistband of my black wool pants is definitely looser.
I won’t tell Julian about any of this when he gets home, I decide. Why ruin our evening? But I will have to tell him tomorrow. If I’m not honest with him, I’ll never get better. I need to bring it up in therapy too. If it’s even possible for me to get better, that is. Is that what I came to realize before, when I tried to take my life? That getting well was never going to happen?
It’s too much. My head is spinning again, but I have to get breakfast for Valentina. I take one last look in the mirror and add a touch of blush to my pale face. As I head to the door, I see the knife. I must have put it on top of the bureau when I came into the bedroom. I don’t know why, but I glance around the room as if someone might be watching me and then take the knife and shove it into the bottom drawer of my nightstand.
??47??
Cassandra
Valentina and I spend the rest of the day playing in the snow and tobogganing down the backyard hill. Afterward we bake chocolate chip cookies, which we take into the den to eat while we watch The Incredibles by the warmth of the fire. I made sure to take my pills as soon as we finished breakfast. Maybe if I’m more diligent about the meds, the voices will stop. I still hate how the pills make me feel groggy all the time, but anything is better than how I was last night.
By late afternoon, when Julian arrives home from his conference, I’m tired but feeling more together than I was in the morning. He hasn’t even taken his coat off before he bounds into the den to greet us. “How are my girls? I missed you.”
Valentina jumps off the sofa and runs to him, burying her head against him. “Daddy. I missed you too.”
I get up and put one hand on Valentina’s back and the other around Julian’s shoulders in a three-way hug. His coat is cold from the frigid outdoor air, and I shiver.
Julian disengages from us and takes off his coat. “Did you have fun while I was away?” He sits down and pulls Valentina onto his lap. I sit next to them, happy that he’s home.
“Look.” Valentina points to the dish of cookies proudly. “We made your favorite. Chocolate chips.”
“Yum,” Julian says, covering my hand with his and squeezing. “I can’t wait to have one.”
“How about some dinner before we eat more cookies?” I say.
“Great idea. Let’s see what we can throw together.” Julian gives Valentina a little poke, and she slides from his lap.
“I made some lentil soup this morning, and I’ll heat up a baguette to have with it,” I say as we walk to the kitchen.