CHAPTER FOUR (MONDAY)
Today, the cleaners cleaned Lizzie's room. I didn't think there was anything worse than burying my daughter until now. This seemed so, you know, final. As long as Lizzie's room was a mess, perhaps this would just be a bad dream, but no dice. After the crew finshed, I walk into the room that once belonged to my daughter. It's the cleanest it's been in a long time. The blood stains are gone and it smells like carpet cleaner. We had the choice between unscented and vanilla. We chose the latter, but I think we should have gone with the former. I look around and think about the fact that in a few short months, this will no longer be the room of a teenaged girl, but a nursery to a newborn baby. I'm afraid of it being a girl. I'm afraid that if the baby's a girl, that we will unintentionally treat her as if she was a replacement Lizzie. I'm afraid of it being a boy. I loved having a girl. With Lizzie gone, it feels like our family is out of balance. I loved dressing Lizzie in cute dresses and fixing her hair with bows. I want that experience again. This baby will probably be our last. If it's a boy, I'll never get that experience again. Lizzie and I did so many girl things together. Sam and Matt did so many boy things together. We still have Matt, but Lizzie's gone. If this baby's a boy, I'll be alone. Sam will have Matt and the baby to do guy stuff together. I don't know what I want the baby to be, a boy or a girl. I just want Lizzie back. I still need to tell Sam. He still doesn't know about the baby. Lizzie's been dead nearly a week. I dread telling him. I dread telling Matt even more.
I hear the door. Matt must be home from school now. He heads upstairs. I close the door to Lizzie's, uh, the baby's room. I don't know if Matt's ready to see the room all cleaned up yet. I walk into his room. "How was your day, Matt?" I ask. "Okay, I guess." "Do you have any homework?" "Did it at school." "Do you want a snack or something?" "No." "I love you, Matt." "Love you too, mom." I reach out to touch him and he pulls back. "You wanna talk about it?" "Not really." "I'm here, if you need to talk." "Yeah, okay." I take that as my cue to leave his room.
Sam comes home from work later. He looks as if he hasn't slept in ages. He probably hasn't. He's had to take care of me all this time. He's been my rock. I love him so much. I pull him into an embrace and kiss him. "What would you like for dinner? We've got lazagna, baked chicken, tuna noodle casserole, you name it." "How about lazagna?" I heat it up and fix a salad. Dinner was quiet. I don't think we feel like talking much yet. When will our family return to some sort of normalcy? Our extended family left yesterday, which was fine by me. I love them dearly, but I'm so tired. I appreciated mom's help, however. She kept this house running the last few days. I look at Sam. He's the love of my life. I'm so lucky to be married to such a wonderful man. I look at Matt. I wish I could talk to him, know what he's thinking and feeling. He's usually a bundle of energy, a real firecracker, but he looks so sullen and sad. I look at the empty chair, Lizzie's chair. Will we ever know what happened? Will we ever know why she chose to leave us? This time last week, we were having dinner, laughing together. Matt pulled one of his usual jokes and Lizzie complained. They traded insults, and I thought I would scream from frustration. I would pay big money to have that all back; just to hear them trade insults once more would mean the world to me!