There's More Than One Way Home: A Novel by Donna Levin

Author:Donna Levin [Levin, Donna]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Chickadee Prince Books
Published: 2017-04-30T22:00:00+00:00

***

Darya was still massaging my neck when we heard, from upstairs, a noise like shattering glass. Callaghan shoved back her chair, but Guadalupe was up first, and by the time the rest of us caught up, she was clutching a bleeding hand and biting down her lip hard. Kennedy had knocked over a row of picture frames.

Callaghan acted as interpreter. Guadalupe had cut herself, trying to clean up. Kennedy, unremorseful, scampered around the room, pulling other bric-a-brac to the floor.

Lupe refused to let us take her to the emergency room. Callaghan said she couldn’t understand why but I was pretty sure that I had caught the Spanish version of the initials “INS.” I told her to reassure Lupe that an emergency room would not report her.

Callaghan didn’t cover for her brother. “Kennedy cut her on purpose, Mommy,” she said sternly. “This isn’t appropriate.”

Lupe shook her head after Callaghan repeated herself for her. “No, Kennedy es uno bueno nino.”

We finally convinced Lupe to go. When we returned a few hours later, Guadalupe’s hand was bandaged and the pain pills the doctor had prescribed had mysteriously disappeared from Darya’s purse.

I went to unpack. We had decided that I would share quarters with Callaghan, and I had moved my tote bag into her room. When I walked in, though, I discovered Kennedy unpacking for me. He had already strewn the items inside, from toothbrush to panties, everywhere from light fixture to bed post.

At that moment, he was scaling a bookshelf on the other side of the room. On the top of the bookshelf Callaghan had displayed her collection of snow globes, many brought home from her father after filming out of town. Callaghan had wisely placed them out of her brother’s reach, but Kennedy had gained more strength and agility than maturity in recent months.

I caught him around the waist just before he pulled the bookshelf down on both of us. Pushing as hard as I could I righted the shelf, which had just begun to tilt, with one hand. He howled and kicked me in the stomach while I gripped him with the other. A viscous liquid oozed on the hardwood floor.

I screamed. I was losing the baby.

As my nephew and I toppled backward on the bed I saw the broken snow globe. It was from Toronto, a low-cost shooting location.

Kennedy kept kicking, but now his heels were landing between my spread legs.

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