Page 23 of Persephone's Curse
I didn’t dream of the unicorn again, but instead of the courtyard in the Cloisters, and all its rows of solid, steadfast archways and my mother’s perfume, and my mother herself, just out of reach.
Despite what I had told Bernadette in the kitchen that one afternoon, we had all been sort of waiting for it to happen, and it happened on Monday night, after dinner.
She was helping Dad wash the dishes and her hand slipped and she dropped a wineglass on the kitchen floor. It shattered everywhere, shards of glass flying clear across the room, one large piece landing so close to my foot that I bent down and picked it up carefully between my thumb and index finger.
“I’ll get the vacuum,” Evelyn said.
“Oopsie daisy,” Dad said. “Don’t move, Bernadette.”
And Bernadette didn’t move, but shedidscream, a sudden, sharp, angry, gunshot-loud scream that made Clara jump and me freeze and Evelyn, just coming back with the vacuum, stop dead in her tracks.
Mom was working late. Dad looked like a deer in headlights for just two or three seconds. Bernadette keptscreamingand finally Dad grabbed her, pulled her close to him, and hugged her hard to his chest, like he was a straitjacket. She melted into him and buried her face in his T-shirt and he looked over the top of her head to each of us, landing on me, raising his eyebrows as if to ask me,What the fuck is going on?
Bernadette stopped screaming and started wailing—a sad, animal noise that was more guttural than anything, starting in the pit of her stomach, escaping her mouth unbidden.
“Evelyn, can you…” Dad trailed off but pointed his chin at the vacuum, and Evelyn nodded, turning it on, sucking up a trail of glass from the kitchen sink to the doorway, so they could get out.When she was done, she turned off the vacuum again and pressed herself against the fridge door. Dad gently turned his body and led Bernadette out of the room, step by cautious step, his eyes searching the floor for glass.
When they were gone, we all stood motionless for a long time, maybe thirty seconds, and then Clara said, in a small voice, “Do you think it will be like last time?”
“I don’t know,” I said. “I don’t think we can know.”
Evelyn turned on the vacuum again and I brought the chunk of glass I was holding over to the garbage, opening my hand and letting it fall into the bag.
“Why did shescream?” Clara pressed. She still hadn’t moved. She had to raise her voice, to be heard over the vacuum.
“I don’t know,” I repeated. I spotted another shard of glass and picked it up, depositing it in the trash.
Evelyn was methodical in her cleaning. She spent at least ten minutes going over every inch of the floor. Occasionally Clara or I would point to a smaller piece she’d missed, and she’d diligently suck it up.
“Did she do it on purpose?” Clara asked when Evelyn had finally turned off the vacuum. “Drop the glass?”
“Of course not,” Evie said.
“No, I was looking right at her,” I added. “It slipped.”
There were still a few plates on the table; Evelyn gathered them up and washed them off in the sink, then loaded the dishwasher.
“Shit,” she said. “There’s glass in here, too.”
So we spent another five minutes cleaning the dishwasher,picking glass out of its nooks and crannies, Clara standing over us with a flashlight, me holding the bottom rack up as Evelyn dug around.
“What is happening here?” Mom said when she found us like that. She looked tired and worn around the edges, and almost amused to find the three of us hunched over the dishwasher.
“Bernadette broke a glass,” Clara said.
“Accidentally,”I added quickly.
“Where is she now?” Mom asked.
“Upstairs, with Dad,” Evie said.
“She screamed,” Clara added. “A lot.”
I smacked her on the leg. Mom looked alarmed.
“Okay. Okay. I better go up and see.”
She left the kitchen. I set the rack back down and we closed the dishwasher door.
