The Wave by Kristen Crusoe (ebook reader online txt) 📗

huge to her, was small when she thought about the people whose lives Ben and Jodie were helping. She almost didn’t call, but then, she wanted to talk with them anyway. It had been too long. And she did need Jodie’s advice. Ben, although understanding and kind, could sometimes revert to behaving like their father, and be judgmental. He would retract once it was pointed out to him, but often, that was his learned response. One she didn’t want to encounter right now.

The call went to voicemail. Jodie was probably in the birthing tent. A short, generic message letting Jodie know she was OK and they would talk later. She sat there for a few more moments, until hunger pulled her downstairs. A toasted bagel, scrambled egg, coffee, then a race to the toilet. Shakily getting dressed, a plastic baggy of dry crackers tucked into her tote bag, she left for class. She placed the phone in her jacket pocket on vibrate so she wouldn’t miss Jodie’s call. The seminar was with her graduate advisees, and they wouldn’t object to her stepping out. They might even enjoy it, she thought.

She had just launched them into a discussion on the meaning of infinity from a mathematical perspective when she felt the vibration against her hip. She heard it buzzing, humming like an annoying insect and she couldn’t make it stop. She felt a hand, gently rocking her shoulder.

‘Clair, wake up. You’re dreaming.’

Jet’s voice was out of place here in her classroom. Who? What? Her mind cast about for focus. Then slowly, like a diver following air bubbles to the surface, she rose to awareness. Lamenting inwardly, not wanting to lose that fragile connection to the first, pristine knowledge of Devon beginning to grow inside her, she turned away from Jet’s voice, burying her head deeper in the cushions. She lay there for what seemed like hours. Her back hurt. Her hip hurt where her weight pressed into the carpeted floor. She was thirsty and had to pee. Sensing Jet beside her, she slowly turned onto her back, staring up at the white ceiling. A string of overhead fluorescent lights, turned off, crossed the space, reminding her of her classroom, of the students, of the call. Of her dream. Of the beginning and the end, and now, of this. She rolled onto her side, pushing herself up into a cross-legged sitting position, elbows on her thighs, head in her hands.

‘That seemed like a powerful dream, Clair, I hated waking you, but you were beginning to shake. Are you OK? Can we talk about it?’ Jet asked.

‘I was dreaming of the day I had proof of my pregnancy,’ Clair said, looking forward. ‘I was waiting for a call back from Jodie, my sister-in-law. I had been teaching and turned my phone to vibrate. When the call came, I couldn’t get it to answer. You woke me up. Now I’m back. And it’s gone again. That’s all I can remember.’

Jet sat down opposite her, also in crossed-legged position. She tucked a flat cushion under her bottom, settling in. ‘I didn’t know you had a sister-in-law. I didn’t know you had a brother,’ she said. ‘Where are they?’

‘Yeah, they’re in Yemen now,’ Clair explained. ‘Working as doctors in one of the refugee camps. I love them, especially Jodie, my sister. More like a sister than an in-law. Ben, well, he has a lot of our father in him and it does come out under stress. Jodie helps him. That’s why he joined the mission, to get away from home and be as different from Dad as he could be.’

‘Tell me more about that, Clair. You’ve never talked about your family, your upbringing.’

‘Why?’ Clair asked. ‘What has that got to do with this?’ she waved her hands around the room, as though her current universe existed only of this room, herself, sitting on this carpet, wearing the blue scrubs. And this woman, her confessor.

‘Everything has to do with everything,’ Jet said. ‘We won’t know until we know.’

Clair laughed. ‘That reminds me of the lesson I handed my class on that day – the day I was dreaming about. Infinity. OK, I’ll talk. But I need to get up first, use the bathroom, get a drink. Is that OK?’

‘Sure. You can use the bathroom here, in my office. I’ll get you a water.’

Returning, Clair re-settled on a chair, her tolerance for proximity spent. A bottle of water sat on the table at her side.

‘Where to begin?’ she wondered out loud. ‘I know, start from the beginning.’

Jet smiled at her, nodding.

‘Not much to tell really. It is a common variety of the American narrative we call family life. Too much money, leisure, expectations. Our father was cold, indifferent, and completely lost at home. An eminent neurosurgeon, at ease with a scalpel in his hand, speaking medical lingo, he mostly showed up for family dinners, endured them with disdain, and then escaped to his home office. Mother was the social one, always one big event after another. If she was home, she was either drunk, high, or well on her way. Our father had hoped Ben would follow him into neurosurgery. Didn’t expect anything from me. Ben left home as soon as he graduated from high school. Moved across the country. Became a surgeon yes, but not neuro. He was four years older than me, which left me alone in that house of horrors through high school. I left too – in my mind. I became lost in numbers. The beauty of equations. Math. Something that made sense and wouldn’t leave me, let me down. Something I was good at. Like Ben, as soon as I could, I left.’

Clair reached for her water, taking a sip, cocking her head slightly to the left. ‘Are you sure you want to hear this? It isn’t very interesting,’ she said, frowning.

‘Yes, I do,’ Jet replied. ‘It’s important for me to understand more about you, and the choices you have made. It helps