The Underside of Joy

pea, like we said.’
    ‘Okay, Mama.’
    ‘Be good for Ella.’
    I closed the door before her foot hit the first step off the porch. I tried to shake it off, but instead I opened the door and stuck my head out. ‘Ah, Paige?’
    She turned.
    ‘It’s not Ella. ’
    ‘I beg your pardon? Do I have your name wrong?’
    ‘The kids call me Mommy.’
    ‘Really?’
    ‘Yeah. Really. They have for three years. But you wouldn’t know that because you weren’t here.’ I shut the door. Annie and Zach stood, holding their rain-spattered balloons, watching me. ‘Anybody hungry?’
    They shook their heads. ‘All I want to do is sleep,’ Annie said. ‘That mama lady took us to a fancy-pants place.’ Zach sighed and they climbed into their own beds before I had the chance to coax them into mine. It was for the best, I knew, to try to get back to some sense of normalcy, but still I had to bite my tongue to keep from asking if they’d get lonely in their own beds. They were too tired to talk much, and so I tucked them in and stayed with them, watching them fall asleep, their faces framed in their newly cut bangs, as the rain tapped out a lullaby on the roof. The balloons had risen and now hovered in opposite corners against the ceiling.
    I felt so tense, I wondered if I’d be able to get back to sleep. I lay back down and listened as the rain picked up and began hammering, branches scraping against the house. Everything about Paige made me anxious. I hit the pillow, got up. How long had it been since I’d taken a Xanax? I couldn’t remember, but I was sure it was time to take another. I took two more, just to be sure. I needed to be able to wake up refreshed so I could get Annie and Zach off to school.
    But in the morning, their breathy whispers swept across my nose and cheeks, ‘Why won’t she open her eyes?’ Zach asked Annie. I forced them open. Four wide blue eyes inches from my own asked me more questions, without words. I knew I should get up and make breakfast, but I got only as far as propping myself up on my elbows before I released them and fell back into the mattress.
    ‘Mommy’s just tired,’ I said. ‘Annie, will you pour cereal and milk?’ She nodded. ‘And . . . call . . . Uncle David.’ Callie jumped off the bed and followed them out. Finally, after weeks of spotty rest, I was getting good sleep!
    I dreamt – thick, long, dreams with twisted plots I couldn’t quite remember after I woke. And then this: Joe and I scuba diving. Joe and I, holding hands, kicking our fins in long, smooth strides, gliding through the ocean with the grace and unity of choreographed dancers. He pointed out beds of sunset-coloured coral and a giant clam. I wanted to ask him a question, so I motioned ‘up’ and swam to the surface. I popped my head up to a grey sky and treaded water, waiting for Joe, but he never showed.
    I dived back down to search for him, ploughing through tangled sea grasses, soundlessly calling his name. Then I heard my own name, luring me from above. I struggled towards the surface, swimming with all my strength, kicking as hard as I could towards his voice.
    I woke, flailing, in David’s arms. ‘Ella, sweetheart. It’s me. It’s David. You’re dreaming.’
    ‘I almost . . . ,’ I whispered. ‘Almost.’ Almost talked with Joe, almost got some answers, but not quite.
    ‘Girl, you’ve been sleeping all day.’ David pushed my hair back from my face. ‘And excuse me for being direct, but you could use a shower and a toothbrush.’
    ‘Thanks,’ I said, but only after I’d pulled the sheet up to cover my mouth. He got up to snap open the blinds, the wet leaves of the apple tree sparkling like chandelier drops in the afternoon sun. ‘It must have been the Xanax.’
    ‘This, from the woman who won’t take an aspirin?’
    ‘I’ve been anxious. The doctor prescribed Xanax.’
    ‘Gil takes Xanax. But he doesn’t sleep all day. Maybe you’re sensitive to it. Or do you have your own Xanax salt lick hidden somewhere?’
    I shook my head. ‘No. But I took too many. Obviously.’
    ‘Ella. You have every excuse in the world to batten down the hatch and wait this out, but you simply don’t have that kind of time. You have two restless kids, a custody battle to win, and a persnickety brother-in-law who desperately needs your help.’
    He pulled me up and out of bed, singing ‘Good Morning Starshine’ as he danced me across the floor, pushed me into the bathroom, closed the