JUNE 1994
3…
IT’S THE HORMONES, Dorothy told herself as she parked in front of an old brick house in downtown Montreal. For perhaps the first time in her nineteen years, she could see the road ahead.
The nausea and fatigue of her first trimester were just bad memories at this point. And now that the greatest risk of miscarriage was also behind her, she had stopped having nightmares about it.
She had clocked out of her shift at the local mall’s jewelry store an hour ago but stopped to buy a few things for the baby and the nearly barren refrigerator that awaited her at home. Plastic bags were piled on the passenger seat next to her. She would have just enough time to change and head out again.
Stepping into the house, Dorothy dropped her bags in the corner.
“We’re home, darlings!” she yelled up the stairs, rubbing her hand on her growing belly. It was just Dorothy, Toto, and the shoes at home.
She had heard that first pregnancies took longer to show than later ones. But at twenty-three weeks and four days along, her baby bump was hard to miss.
Must be all the enthusiasm.
If an unwanted pregnancy could be kept hidden until the very end, maybe the opposite was happening to her.
I can’t wait to see your smiling face, sweet Toto.
That familiar voice of warning crept into her head.
“Be careful what you wish for, my pretty.”
One of her mother’s favorite lines.
“Your bad attitude can’t infect me anymore, you witch,” she said aloud to no one while walking farther into the hallway.
Dorothy smiled at her reflection in the entryway mirror. Her skin was glowing. A touch of green lit up her gray eyes, and her auburn hair was shinier than ever.
“It’s all thanks to you, little Toto.”
Ever since she was a child, Dorothy had worn her wild hair tied in two long braids. But she didn’t feel the need to do that anymore and happily let her hair fall loose over her shoulders. Having always thought of herself as fairly average, she was now beginning to discover her beauty. She couldn’t remember ever having been this happy. Relaxed and at peace, she felt like she was living in a real fairy tale. And she was the princess.
Grabbing a few of the bags, she brought them into a room that smelled of fresh paint. Like a mother bird, she was building a nest for her little one. The walls of the room had been painted sky blue, and, the day before, she had finished assembling the crib. All the bedding had been ordered. And the bags—which she now set down on the floor—were full of clothes, toys, and baby bottles.
Dorothy felt like there was nothing she couldn’t do.
And that’s lucky, since I’m doing it all myself.
She plucked the cordless phone from the kitchen counter, swung back through the entryway to pick up a purple
bag with a gold logo on it, and dialed a number as she climbed the stairs to her bedroom.
“Yeah?”
“Vincent? It’s me, babe.”
“Hey, Dot. Something wrong?” he asked, slightly drowned out by the whirring of machines around him.
“Why does something have be wrong? I just bought a bunch of adorable things for the baby, and his room is almost ready.”
“Don’t overdo it. The house may be paid for, but that doesn’t mean we’re millionaires.”
They had been together for two years when she got pregnant. At which point she had reluctantly agreed for him to take a job in an auto body shop in James Bay for a few months to make some extra money before the baby came.
“How’s it going over there?” she asked him, wanting to change the subject.
She rustled through the bags that contained her various purchases. A moment of silence fell between them.
“Fucking hell, Dot. You bought another pair, didn’t you?”
She took a shoebox out of the purple bag.
“I… I just got myself a little present.” She awaited his reply but was met with more silence on the other end. “A pair of heels from Vidal-Berry. They’re white with a black-flower motif. If you could see them, you would understand—they’re gorgeous!”
“But you don’t even wear them, Dorothy! You only ever wear sneakers.”
“I’ll wear them for you when you get back. You’ll see. They make my legs look amazing!”
Standing in the walk-in closet of her room with the phone wedged between her ear and shoulder, Dorothy undressed, put on the heels, and admired herself in the mirror. At the other end of the line she heard her boyfriend sigh.
“Were you calling for a particular reason?” he asked now, clearly annoyed.
“No, it was… Ow! Toto just kicked me!”
“Quit calling him Toto. It’s so goofy.”
haven’t suggested any names!”
Unable to stand still, Dorothy took off her new shoes and found a spot for them among the hundred pairs—all more or less the same—that she already owned. Then she dug around in a pile of laundry in the hopes of unearthing her yoga clothes.
“We have plenty of time for that, Dot. What’s the rush?”
“How about Kansas? That’s nice, don’t you think?”
“Kansas? Over my dead body. That’s not even a real name! It’s almost as ridiculous as Toto. Why not Chibougamau, while we’re at it?”
Dorothy let it go.
I’m not giving you a choice, Vincent.
“Did I tell you Bianca said yes to being the godmother? Now you just have to pick the godfather. Your brother, maybe?”
“We agreed, Dorothy. There’s no way we’re getting him baptized.”
“Right. We’re not getting him baptized,” she confirmed as she put on her leggings. “But he still needs godparents. People we trust, who would always be there for him. In case something happens to us.”
“What d’you think’s gonna happen to us?”
This time it was Dorothy who showed her frustration. She let out a heavy sigh.
“You know what? I have to go, Vincent. My prenatal yoga class starts in forty-five minutes. Kansas. It’s cute. Think about it, OK?”
“It’s still four months away, Dor—”
“Love you, bye!”
She hung up, glanced at her watch, and stepped out of the closet. Throwing a white hoodie over her tank top, she bolted down the stairs and set the phone on the entryway table. The conversation had left a bitter taste in her mouth, but she wasn’t about to let it ruin her good mood. She was already halfway out the door when the phone rang. Darting back inside, she picked up.
Oh, now you want to apologize for your shitty attitude…
Dorothy pressed the green button, but the voice that replied to her breathless “Hello?” belonged to an older woman.
“Who?” Dorothy asked her to repeat herself.
“This is Colette from your credit card company, Ms. Noroît. I’m calling to inform you that your Gayelette Direct card has been canceled.”
“Canceled? Why?”
“You haven’t responded to any of our communications by mail, and you haven’t paid your bills in four months, madame. Your debt has been transferred to a collection agency.”
“Madame, may I please have just a few days? I can pay it in full,” Dorothy said in her sweetest voice.
“The agency will be in touch, and you can work it out with them. You’re not our problem anymore.”
Colette hung up the phone. She had been exceptionally brief but had still managed to make Dorothy miss another call.
I knew he’d call back.
She pressed play on the answering machine. But it wasn’t Vincent this time, either; it was Dorothy’s boss, Will Wallace. He was calling to inform Dorothy that she was being let go, effective immediately.
Dorothy dialed the number of the jewelry store and fought to keep the heartache and despair out of her voice as she demanded an explanation from him.
“This has nothing to do with your performance, Dot, but we’ve got to make some cuts, and since you were the last one hired…”
“Will! The last one? You hired me the same week as
Bianca. Is she out, too?”
“I had to make a choice.” Will was all business now.
“I’m better at sales than she is—you know that!”
“Dorothy… it might be better for you to work somewhere other than a shopping center. Do you understand what I’m saying?”
“What’re you talking about?”
“Bianca told me about your problem… with shoes. You could look at this as a chance to finally kick your bad habit.”
Dorothy abruptly ended the call. Hands trembling and heart pounding, she pressed the speed dial button for her best friend’s number. As the phone rang, Dorothy felt the world spinning around her.
“I did it for your own good,” Bianca protested before Dorothy even had a chance to talk.
Convinced that her traitorous friend had blabbed about her penchant for shoes to save her own job, Dorothy exploded in frustration.
“I’m having a fucking baby, Bianca!”
“Vincent is making plenty of money for both of you in James Bay. And besides, you wouldn’t have any cash problems if you hadn’t cut off your parents. And if you would stop buying shoes, Dorothy. Seriously, you need to get some help!”
Dorothy had heard enough. She hung up.
Don’t lose heart, she ordered herself. Can’t let unhealthy emotions affect Toto.
She was shaken, but she decided she would stick with the plan and go to her yoga class anyway. She just needed a relaxing hour.
2…
IT WAS RUSH hour and there was some traffic on the freeway, but it was moving. Dorothy would make it to the studio with just a couple of minutes to spare. As she drove, she realized the exhaustion was catching up to her, and her vision was blurring.
Keep it together, Dot, she lectured herself, blinking her eyes furiously to hold back the tears. She couldn’t stop replaying the conversations she’d had over the past hour, her rage growing with every passing minute.
They don’t care about me one fucking bit. If they did, they would be happy that I’ve been taking such good care of myself. I deserve to have nice things. I wouldn’t have cut off my family if they hadn’t— She stopped herself there.
She took a deep breath in and regained control of herself. Just then, a red car in the left lane came into her peripheral vision. The woman driving was having what seemed like a lively conversation on a car phone. Dorothy imagined it could be handy to have one of those contraptions.
Especially after Toto’s born.
Dorothy had just recognized the driver. Johanne, a redhead in her mid-twenties; they were in the same prenatal yoga class. She was likely on her way there, too. Johanne was due about a week before Dorothy.
That girl is so tacky. Is she gonna keep wearing that much makeup and dressing like that when she’s a mother?
Dorothy didn’t use much makeup, only a little foundation in the summer when the sun brought out her freckles.
Completely wrapped up in her phone conversation, Johanne had been drifting out of her lane, toward Dorothy in the middle. Dorothy honked her horn. Johanne flipped Dorothy off and sped ahead. As their exit quickly approached, Johanne swerved hard and fast into the far right lane. But the car that was now in front of her had stopped short. It all happened so fast. Dorothy saw the red car stop suddenly, and she watched in shock as Johanne’s body shattered the windshield with brutal force. Time seemed to stand still as Johanne’s body tore through the air. But gravity finally took hold, and Johanne came crashing back down onto the asphalt. Car horns were blaring, and vehicles went veering off in every direction.
Like cockroaches startled by the light, thought Dorothy, who had drifted into the exit lane.
Dorothy hit the brakes just in time to avoid running over Johanne’s mangled body, and the back of her head slammed into her headrest. Flung forward by the impact, her stomach took the full force of the steering wheel. She unbuckled the seat belt, which was digging into her abdomen. Her mind numb from the physical and emotional shock, she kicked open the door and dropped to her knees. Once she had made it to her feet, she had taken only five or six steps when she heard the deafening screech of a pickup truck ramming into the back of her car. Pushed forward several yards, Dorothy’s car rolled over Johanne’s body before coming to a full stop. A massive pileup had ensued. Amid the chaos, she saw a man running toward her. He was shouting words she couldn’t understand because, apart from Johanne’s moaning—How is she still alive?—the only thing she could hear was a dull buzzing sound. From the way the man was waving his arms, she guessed he was warning her to get away from where she was standing.
Before Dorothy’s horrified eyes, the man was hit by an SUV. She turned away from the sight of his body, but instead of running to get herself
safely off the road, she walked over to the wreckage of her car, where a cloud of steam was wafting into the sky. Johanne’s bare feet were sticking out from underneath the heavy mass of tangled metal, and she was still moaning. Dorothy saw one of Johanne’s shoes—a stiletto in the same bright shade of red as Johanne’s car—lying nearby, and Dorothy noted that Johanne’s toenails were painted black.
Those heels are way too high. I wouldn’t dare wear them.
Suddenly reality came crashing back in. Although time seemed to have ground to a halt, it was actually still moving forward, and Johanne clearly wasn’t going to make it much longer.
“This woman is pregnant!” screamed Dorothy. “Call an ambulance!”
There was nothing else she could do. Once again her sense of time deserted her. She stood there motionless, staring at the distant patent leather heel, until the firefighters arrived on the scene, followed by the paramedics and police.
Johanne’s body was limp by the time they pulled it out from under Dorothy’s car. It took them two minutes to get her into the back of an ambulance and speed away toward the medical center.
At that moment, the buzzing in Dorothy’s head faded to a low hum and then disappeared completely. At last she could hear the sobbing and screaming of all the injured people around her, and she spotted the other red shoe on the ground. She was seized by an overwhelming desire to reunite the pair.
I’ve never had ones this beautiful.
“Are you OK, miss?” asked a firefighter a moment later.
“I’m fine.”
“You’re bleeding.”
Dorothy raised her hand to touch her head, but instead it came to rest on her belly. A sudden, horrendous pain ripped through her. The firefighter grabbed her shoulders to hold her steady.
“Are you pregnant? Was that a contraction?” Blood was dripping on the asphalt. It had soaked through Dorothy’s yoga pants and was running down her thighs.
1…
THE CURTAINS SEPARATING the stretchers kept opening and closing with a metallic jangling sound as the hooks slid across the poles. In the large room at Sainte-Victorine Hospital, where Dorothy had been taken, she could hear the commotion without seeing it.
“Is anybody there?” she called out.
Why isn’t anyone coming?
The contractions were getting closer together. Every two minutes, an excruciating pain exploded in her belly and radiated throughout her body. Yet the brief examination Dorothy had undergone had not revealed any sign of serious injury. She had also been given an ultrasound with a small portable machine.
“The baby’s doing fine,” someone reported before abandoning Dorothy behind two curtains.
These are false contractions, Dorothy told herself. They’ll eventually stop.
An hour later, she was still clinging to that idea. She worried about Toto, but her own physical pain was taking up most of her attention. When a hospital employee—barely older than Dorothy was—drew back the curtains, she found Dorothy on all fours on her stretcher, gasping for breath.
“Dorothy Noroît? I’m an intern in obstetrics. Has anyone measured you yet?”
“Measured me?”
“Measured your cervix. To see how dilated you are. Take off your pants and underwear and lie down.”
A violent contraction kept her from complying right away. And by the time she had settled in to be examined, another cramp was tearing through her. The intern had barely stuck her head between Dorothy’s legs when she pulled it out again. Dorothy didn’t like the look on her face.
“You’re having the baby today.”
As if an invisible hand had gagged her and was pushing her down, Dorothy let out a silent scream. Everything went black. The hospital bed and the floor seemed to vanish, and she felt as if she were falling. She quickly snapped out of this other world she had tumbled into, but because the time lapse had existed only in her own mind, she had missed what the intern had been trying to tell her.
“Huh?”
“Labor has begun. Your cervix is completely dilated. I’m sorry, there’s no way to stop it now.”
“No… it’s much too soon…”
She had blocked out that possibility, refusing to let it enter her mind.
Why didn’t anyone come earlier?
“Toto…”
“What did you say?”
“There’s no way he’ll make it…”
As far as Dorothy was concerned, ...
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