The Underside of Joy

their baths, to wash their hair and have them tell me the story of their day, of our day.
    I drove west towards the sunset, which looked like the gods had been throwing cantaloupes at each other, cracking them open across the sky. I pulled out my cell phone and called Paige.
    ‘So, do you really think I can see them again soon? I mean, you told Zach “soon”.’
    ‘You’ll have them after Christmas, which is just a few weeks away. And then in three months after that. I’m comfortable with the court’s decision.’
    ‘Three months is a long time.’
    ‘Try three years.’ She hung up.
    I needed to find a way to talk to Paige. Every time we spoke, hostility cut through the line – hers, and mine, too. I pulled into my parking stall at the apartment and reached over and opened the glove compartment. I’d stuck Paige’s cards and letters to Annie and Zach in there.
    How could I get through to her? I still had the cards she’d sent the kids. But she’d wonder why I hadn’t given these to the court with the others in the first place, and she wouldn’t believe I intended for the kids to someday open them themselves. She also knew I was desperate and would do anything to see the kids. And she still believed I’d known about all the letters from the beginning. This was clearly my one and only chance to make it better between us, and I did not want to blow it.
    I had to figure out a way to make this stack of cards and letters work in the kids’ favour.
    It had been there all along, winking at me, saying, Hello? Paige’s return address on Annie’s and Zach’s envelopes. Some were from a hospital. But some weren’t. I had to guess they were from Aunt Bernie’s, when Paige had been living there. That night I wrote: Maybe, just maybe, Aunt Bernie can help?

Chapter Thirty-four
    I knew it was rude to just show up at Aunt Bernie’s, but I had no way of getting her phone number except to call Paige, which defeated the purpose. Following the map out to the edge of town – or I should say the last edge, because I could tell they kept adding as the place grew, edge after edge, like a beige braided rug that someone couldn’t leave alone – I imagined that when Paige lived there as a child, it was out in the middle of nowhere. But now there was a Vons supermarket and a Rite Aid, some restaurants and a housing development. The trailer park had mature trees, and the trailers didn’t look so much like trailers, but neat, boxy houses with tiny front porches and small multicoloured rock gardens. Much nicer than I’d imagined.
    I knocked on the front door. No one answered. I was glad I’d left Callie back at the apartment, because even though it was morning, the sun already bore down relentlessly on the dry, dusty pavement. I waited, then knocked again. I was hoping to catch her before she left for work. But maybe she didn’t work. Maybe she was still asleep. ‘Aunt Bernie?’ I called before I realized that was Paige’s name for her, but certainly not mine.
    Almost immediately, I heard her say, ‘Paige?’ and she opened the door. She was not what I expected, not at all. Midfifties, trim and tall, with a dark, stylish bob haircut and a lovely dove grey business suit. ‘Oh! I thought you were my niece.’
    ‘I know. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to call you “aunt”.’ I stuck out my hand. ‘I’m Ella Beene.’
    She stared.
    I slipped my hand into my pocket. ‘I was hoping we could talk . . .’
    ‘Oh?’
    ‘Could I come in?’
    She stared another moment, then said, ‘Oh, why not?’ and turned and led me into her house. The front room was cluttered with boxes and magazines and gadgets and gizmos. ‘The kitchen is this way,’ she promised. ‘Don’t mind all this. I’ve been cleaning out the closets.’
    Her kitchen wasn’t dirty, just crowded with magazines and appliances and stacks of papers. I realized that her niece wasn’t the only thing Aunt Bernie had saved. I also suddenly understood Paige’s passion for feng shui and home staging.
    ‘Here, have a seat.’ She motioned to the table. She sat on the bar stool, stacks of Redbook s, National Geographic s, and bills on the table. ‘Excuse the mess. I don’t have company much.’ Her face coloured but she regained her composure. ‘Coffee? Tea?’
    ‘Tea, if you have it.’
    ‘Dear, as you can see, I have everything.’ She filled the pot with water.
    ‘I’m sorry I didn’t call,’ I said. ‘I didn’t have your number. Paige