Nearer Than the Sky by T. Greenwood Page A

motionless above. It smelled like baby powder and fresh plastic diapers. There was no indication that a child had been inside this room. The diaper pail was empty. The plastic infant bathtub had never been used. It reminded me of the time we went to look at the model version of this home before Lily and Rich were married. There were three models to choose from, each one decorated to look as though someone lived there. And the illusion was precise, convincing, until you tried to lift a plate from the place mat on the dining room table or remove a book from the bookshelf and found that everything was glued down. That the cereal boxes were empty and the television was made of cardboard.
    I stood over her for a few moments before I reached for her shoulder, which was bare in her sleeveless nightgown.
    “Ma,” I said softly.
    She rolled over and opened her eyes wide.
    “It’s okay, Ma. Lily and Violet are spending the night at the hospital, but everything’s fine. They’re doing some tests.”
    She sat up and smoothed her hair with the palm of her hand. “It was a seizure, wasn’t it?”
    “Maybe,” I said. “What makes you think that?”
    Ma put her fingers between the slats of the venetian blinds and peered out at the dark night. “Lily had seizures when she was little, too. Don’t you remember?”
    “It may just be her asthma,” I said. “They just want to rule some things out. Get some sleep. Our bus leaves tomorrow at noon.”
    I left the room before she could argue. I couldn’t stay in this house another night. I felt a new urgency to get this over with. I was afraid that if I spent one more night with Ma and Lily that I might be woken by voices I didn’t want to hear. Lily cussing at tumbleweeds. Ma talking in her sleep. My own startled breath when I woke again and again from the same dream.
     
    When I came down the stairs the next morning, Lily was pouring coffee, Rich had already left for work, and Ma was holding Violet at the kitchen table, a cloth diaper thrown over her shoulder, Violet’s head resting against her chest.
    “Good morning,” Lily smiled brightly. Her cheeks were flushed pink, and the window over the sink was wide open. A cool gust of air blew in and rustled the pale curtains.
    “You’re home already?” I said, wiping the sleep from my eyes, wondering if the kitchen would be empty when I opened them again. But I wasn’t seeing things. Ma was rubbing Violet’s back in circular motions. The thick blue veins moving under her transparent skin like small rivers.
    “It’s fall,” Lily said, motioning vaguely to the open window. “The heat finally broke. It’s seventy degrees outside.”
    “How is Violet?” I asked.
    “She’s doing just fine. She had some of Gramma’s homemade oatmeal this morning and some apple juice,” Ma said, cooing at Violet whose eyes were fluttering against sleep. “Now she’s taking a little nap after her breakfast.”
    “Did they figure out what happened?” I asked, staring at Violet in disbelief. Her cheeks, like Lily’s, were flushed pink. It was as if someone had colored her in, brushed pink watercolors on her papery skin, dotted the centers of her eyes with pale blue drops of light.
    “Not sure yet, but she’s doing just wonderful today. And now Gramma’s here to make sure it doesn’t happen again, right Miss Violet?” Ma said, holding Violet away from her and looking into Violet’s watercolor eyes.
    “Have you got the shuttle schedule, Lily?” I asked.
    “We need to talk about that,” Ma said, lowering Violet back against her chest. “I’m not going back up to Mountainview quite yet.”
    “What?” I asked.
    “Now don’t freak out,” Lily came in. “It’s just that I could really use the help with Violet until they figure out what’s going on, and Ma’s afraid she’ll get sick again if she goes back to the house.”
    “What?” I said again.
    “I’m pretty certain it’s something in the walls.Your cheap father could