The Secret Keepers

It was midnight. Where was Frank? Where was Sophie? Surely the police wouldn’t have kept them locked up. Irina phoned the station again, and her questions were met with gibbering she didn’t understand. Her daughter’s bizarre behavior replayed itself in her mind and filled her with a crushing feeling of dread. As Irina tried to construct a timeline, it occurred to her that Sophie became secretive some months ago on the day Adelajda was like a jackrabbit hopping through the house urging her mother to hurry up so they could get to the store right as it opened. That Christmas, Santa gave Marysia a chenille bedspread sprinkled with faces of Scooby Doo here and there. Once Sophie saw how drab Addie’s cover was in comparison, she invited her youngest to join her so they could shop for a matching spread. A few hours after they left, Irina began chopping sirloin for a batch of pierogi she was going to freeze for later in the week. When out of the blue, Addie darted into the house, wailing. “Babcia! Mommy fell at the store. The saleslady wanted an amblance to come. Mommy hit me!” Addie pointed to the red blotch that resembled a handprint on her cheek. “Mommy’s mad at me ... it was me who made her fall. I didn’t get my bedspread. I wasn’t supposed to tell you or daddy.” Addie plunged her head in her grandmother’s apron. Irina was appalled when she examined the red mark more closely. As Irina craned her neck to see where Sophie was, she heard her walk in the door. “Addie, I am so sorry I lost my temper.” Sophie sank down on her knees before her daughter while she explained to her mother, “Work is getting to me. I’m on edge with these arbitrations between the administration and the union. We have to get these teachers back to the classroom. C’mon, sweetheart. Sit on my lap over here.” Addie cried and she became so rigid she would slip through Sophie’s arms when she tried to lift her up. Irina persuaded Addie to go to her matka trying to make sense of what was happening before her. “Mother, I’ve been restless at night keeping Frank up. I drank way too much coffee this morning so I’d be able to function today, and on top of that I didn’t have breakfast. I was browsing around when I shivered uncontrollably and my stomach became queasy. I fainted.” Irina hurried over to her, placing her hand on her forehead to see if she was warm. “You good.” Sophie kissed Addie as she burrowed her head into her mommy’s chest, sucking her thumb. Irina suspected the whole incident was much more than Sophie was willing to admit. As she was about to ask more questions, one of her papa’s sayings came to mind: Ciekawość to pierwszy stopień do piekła. ‘Curiosity is the first step to hell.’ But this time, Irina didn’t care about that first step. “Sophie, you not right. Tell me.” “I’m fine.” “You never hit girls. What wrong? Tell me.” A curtain of hostility descended between them. “Maybe you go to doctor?” “Mother, stop. I’m fine. And there’s no need to worry Frank about this.” *** As she lay in bed that night, Irina kept replaying Sophie’s denial. Why didn’t she insist Sophie go to a doctor? Or why didn’t she ask more questions and forget about her papa’s hell? Shedding her lumpy pierzyna, she wriggled up against the wooden headboard and began kneading her disfigured fingers which usually proved to be a distraction from her worries, but not tonight. She prayed to the chipped porcelain statue of the Virgin Mary on her dresser resting between old scraps of threadbare lace and her spool from long ago. Would she be blessed with another miracle? All Irina could picture was Frank and Sophie brawling on the floor and hearing her daughter spitting profanities, kicking, and biting him. She blinked as a way to erase the string of horrifying memories swimming before her. The luminous dial on her clock revealed that it was 2:00 a.m. Irina tiptoed downstairs, and gripped the rail to steady herself as she surveyed the shambles before her. Shaking her head, she snatched her brandy from its hiding place relieved it was intact. She held the glass in both hands, and drained the amber-colored liquid. “Brandy good for heart,” she admitted out loud, as if she needed to explain herself to the empty room. Irina’s papa was a brandy drinker, maybe too much so, but he would tell her that koniak would cure any ailment. As life in her new country went on, she realized she didn’t need any specific ailment to reap its benefits. Her husband, Albert, shared the same opinion, but in his case, Polish vodka was his cure-all. When she learned that he had stumbled from a ladder at work and broke his neck, she suspected he might have been nipping a bit earlier in the day. Still reeling from the death of her papa a few months before, Irina was devastated with the news. She was now simultaneously an orphan and a widow. Irina prayed silently as she resumed straightening out all the disarray of the night before. In between her heaving and heavy breathing, she right-sided overturned furniture and swept up shards of glass from shattered picture frames and porcelain from the bases of smashed lamps. The knife was lying there amidst the signs of a brawl but she couldn’t touch it. Frank would have to deal with it.