Chapter Nineteen: Look, Don't Touch

When the true arrival of spring came, dusty dresses and colorful hats were dredged from the backs of closets. Early April, the there was no more snow on the ground, and the sun was always shining. Roy said not to expect the good weather for much longer; the rain would come soon enough. I asked him, "Who's the pessimist now?"

He reminded me, "Not pessimism, realisticism."

I grinned. "I don't think realisticism is a word."

"It is now."

It wasn't too far into spring when, one night, as I sat in the living room, and Winnie played the piano and Margaret chatted absentmindedly to Lillian, Roy slipped into the room and sat down next to me. Although still polite-looking, there was something oddly serious about him.

"Yes?" I asked.

He took a deep, long breath. "Ed," he said. "Thank you, once again, for everything you've done for this family."

He paused. I said, "My pleasure."

So he continued, "We take the girls to church every year, for Easter Sunday, and I feel the need to extend the invitation to you, if you would like to come, of course. It's not too long, it's good to hear, I think you'd benefit from it. Now you don't have to if you don't want to but I do think Winnie would appreciate it if you were there."

I looked past him, at Winnie, who was still playing. Even though I could only see her back, I imagined she had a smile on her face.

Finally I said, "Yeah. Sure, I'll come."

A grin spread across Roy's face and he clapped me on the shoulder. "Thanks. Really."

He left. I thought for a moment.

Easter Sunday. What did I know about Easter Sunday? Well, of course, I knew it was some sort of Christian holiday, but neither Al nor I had ever paid attention to that sort of thing, and Noa had never been the sort of person to bring it up, either. Gracia had a special Easter bouquet every year, but other than that…the most I'd ever celebrated a holiday had been the last Christmas, with Al, and even that had turned into something I'd rather forget.

So what was I really getting myself into, agreeing to go to church with them? I wouldn't pretend to believe any of it, no, of course not. But… if it made any of them feel any better… maybe I could look like I believed it. Just a little.

I heard Al's voice in my head. I'm human. I want to believe in something.

I shook my head. Religion isn't truth. Religion is just a bunch of moral lessons put together to make something that makes a vague amount of sense. The Gate – and what I had seen in it – that was truth. Even if I didn't want to believe it.

I shut my eyes, tight, shaking my head harder, trying to erase the things I saw. I didn't want to remember those images, of death and destruction and pain and ways humans would kill each other. The only way to deal with those images was to pretend they never happened, and I never saw them. If I ignored them, if I used actual willpower to force them from my mind… I would not have to face them.

Since I now realize this was a foolish strategy, and never could have worked, I wonder how I did last so long without literally exploding from the pressure of my own thoughts.

On Friday – 'Good Friday', Roy called it, I wasn't sure why – Roy had us hold hands at supper while he said grace. I joined in, however reluctantly.

That Saturday evening, I was about to go downstairs, when I saw that Winnie's door was open, and her light was on. I paused, then turned and headed that way.

I stopped in the doorway. She was sitting on her bed, holding her knees to her chest, looking at a small photograph she had laid on the bed.

Before I could say anything, she said, "Did you know, my mother used to take Mike and me every Easter and buy us both a new hat. Even during the war, she'd spend whatever it took, to get that hat. And then we'd go to church, but we always had to leave early, because Mike couldn't sit still. I don't really blame him. I used to always fall asleep during the sermon." She laughed and wiped away a tear from her cheek. I went to sit next to her on her bed. "That church was torn down years ago. But Roy still buys me a new hat, every year. For old time's sake."

She nodded towards her dresser, where a large, floppy pink hat with an arrangement of fake flowers sat. "Was Roy good friends with your parents?" I asked her gently.

She let out another sound half between a laugh and a sob. "He was practically family. He was my father's best man at my parent's wedding. I still have photographs…" She paused, and took a deep, rattling breath. "He was… with my father when he was killed. He brought the news home to my mother." Winnie closed her eyes and shook her head. "They loved each other. My parents, I mean. So, when he died…"

I completed her sentence for her. "She wanted to be with him."

She nodded. "Forever."

I thought of the gun Helena had pressed into my hand. I thought of the bliss I had felt as I held myself beneath the surface of the water.

"Your brother saw her do it?"

She looked at the ground. "She was standing on the porch. Michael opened the door and… she pulled the trigger."

I put my arms around her. She let me hold her limply.

And then, there was a loud gasp from what sounded like the room over. And Irene's panicked voice shouted, "Riza!"

There was a groan, and I was barely on my feet before Winnie had dashed out of the room. By the time I got to the room over, Riza, Winnie, Irene and Margaret were there, moving quickly and efficiently. Helena was standing to the side, her face pale and ashen.

"It's coming!" said Margaret, sounding anxious

"What's coming?" I asked, trying to see past the women in the room.

Winnie stepped aside briefly and I glanced in. Daley was lying on the bed, breathing fast, her legs spread apart. "The baby," Winnie said shortly.

Helena left the room abruptly, turning slightly green. Irene said, "Winnie, call Mrs. Elliot, now."

Winnie nodded, and she shut the door as she left the room.

"What's happening?" asked Roy, as Winnie passed him on the stairs, heading for the telephone.

"Daley's having the baby," I told him. "Now."

Roy tensed up. "And Riza's in there? With Daley?"

I nodded. "Irene and Margaret are with her, too."

Tom, who had been hanging onto his father's leg, started crying as there was another loud cry from upstairs.

Mrs. Elliot turned out to be an old woman with a long, thin face and hair pulled back into a severe bun at the top of her head. She was a midwife, and apparently a friend of Riza's.

Roy took to pacing the hall outside of Daley's room. I sat downstairs, where Daley's cries were muffled slightly, and was presently joined by Shauna, Anne, Fiona, Helena and Lillian.

"You're not going up there to help?" I asked Shauna, when she sat down.

She made a face. "God, no. I don't give a damn whether Daley needs me or not, I am not going up there."

I looked around, to Helena. "What about you?"

Helena shook her head. "It… no. I just can't go up there."

Fiona wasn't with Daley because Anne wasn't, and Lillian said she would have been up there, but the room was overcrowded already, and she didn't want to add to the chaos.

The hours dragged on. Most of the girls tended to come and go out of the room, but I knew I was the one person who would not be needed up there.

After a while – several hours – Winnie came downstairs, took my arm, and murmured, "Let's take a walk."

She pulled me out of the house, without a coat. I said, "But – don't they need you?"

Tucking a strand of hair behind her ear, she shook her head. "Not right now."

She slowed down after we were a ways away from the house. She took my hand. "Are you okay?" I asked.

With a smile, she nodded. "Don't worry about me. If anyone, you should be asking about Daley." She answered my question before I could even ask it. "And yes, she's fine as well. She's doing much better than any of us expected."

There was a silence. I looked around, and suddenly I thought I knew where she was taking me. "Where are we going?"I asked cautiously.

She sighed, then said stonily, "I'm going to tell Becca. She would want to know. Besides, you haven't talked to your brother in a while, have you?"

"I-"

"You can go back if you want. But I'm supposed to tell Becca, so that's what I'll do."

I looked at her for a moment. Then, I said, "I'll come."

Winnie nodded. "Good."

There was another silence. It didn't take very long to get to Al's apartment, but without any conversation at all it seemed to take forever.

Winnie knocked on the door one, two, three times. It took only a few seconds until there was a click and someone opened the door.

It was a man, in his late thirties, with dark slicked-back hair and dark brown eyes, almost black. He said, "Can I help you?"

"…is Alphonse Elric there?"

The man's eyes brightened slightly and he smiled, shaking his head. "Mr. Elric moved out of University boarding about a week ago. I'm the new tenant."

"Oh… do you know where he went?"

He suddenly became suspicious. "Who wants to know?"

I stepped forward. "My name is Edward Elric, Alphonse is my brother. I wasn't aware he moved residence."

The man looked me over, then nodded. He gave us the name of the street Al had moved to, and we were on his way.

"It's not that much farther," said Winnie, once we were back on the street.

"Why would he move, without even telling us?" I asked, taken aback. "Why wouldn't Becca tell us, at least?"

"My guess is Becca doesn't want us to find them," Winnie sighed. "Stupid girl."

"No… I think it's that Al doesn't want to face me."

Winnie actually laughed at that. "Oh, Ed, you still think your brother's acting independently. By now you should have realized that Al doesn't even know what he's doing."

I looked at her. "What do you mean?"

She shook her head. "When Becca decides she wants someone to love her, not only does she make them love her, but she makes it so she has complete control over them. She makes it so that before you do anything, anything at all, you stop and consider, will this be good for Becca? What would Becca think of this? She takes your life and twists it and molds it so that she is at the very center. Your brother didn't decide to move, Ed. Becca made passing comments, short remarks that made him believe that if he moved, then Becca would somehow magically love him more and everything would be great. It happens with every time."

"Like… with Michael?"

She laughed bitterly. "And with me. From the very beginning, I knew she was taking advantage of me. But I let her, anyway. I told myself, she's just a girl who needs help, and I need to be the one to give it to her. Somewhere, deep inside of me I knew that she was using that exact thought of mine…" She paused and stopped walking, then turned so we were facing each other. Lightly trailing a hand on my shoulder, she said, "I guess by now we should have told you about… when I first found Becca, Ed, there was another girl with her. Her sister-"

"Rachel," I said. "Margaret told me."

Winnie nodded, took my arm, and continued walking. "Of course she did. Well. Rachel was younger, but Becca was little, so they looked almost identical, but you could tell them apart because Becca was a lot more cut up than Rachel was. This was because Rachel knew when to shut up, but Becca never cared to learn, so she wouldn't even bother restraining herself when she talked to her stepfather, and he never liked that." She was talking very fast, her breath coming out in quick bursts. I tugged her gently to make her slow down. "Well so Rachel was a lot like their mother, quiet, willing to obey, but at the same time clever – Rachel was always watching, and she understood so much more than she let on. She was a beautiful girl. Becca used her, too, worse than anyone else. We all saw it but none of us tried to stop it, I don't know why, maybe we thought they were just sisters and that was how sisters worked." She paused, then pointed to a street sign. "We're here."

We began to walk down the lane. It was a bunch of middle-class apartments, with brick walls and tall windows. "How do we know which one is theirs?" I murmured to Winnie.

"I don't know," she replied. "Ask around?"

All of the sudden, a door opened and a young woman scurried out of one of the buildings. She stopped when she saw us.

"How did you find us?" Becca asked, and there was a sort of flash in her eyes.

Winnie ignored this question. "Daley's having her baby."

Becca's expression changed. Became soft, concerned, but even as I looked at her, I thought I could see through it a little, and she didn't care, she just wanted to be part of this, part of something.

"Now?"

"This very second."

She glanced back at the building. "Send her my best," she said, then turned and hurried back toward the building. Winnie moved faster than I had yet seen her; she reached out and put a hand on Becca's shoulder, wrenching her around.

"How about a congratulations?"

Becca put on a smile. "You know that's what I meant."

They stared at each other for a moment. Then, Winnie asked, "Where's Al, Becca?"

"Fine," replied Becca, before Winnie even finished her query. There was a flash of something different on her face. "I mean, he's inside. But he's fine."

"Of course," said Winnie smoothly. "But why wouldn't he be?"

Another short, cold silence. Then, "I think you need to learn when to leave things well enough alone," said Becca coolly.

"I think you need to stop being such a manipulative bitch."

Another smile from Becca, only this time it might have been real. "Not going to happen." Pause. "Get out of here."

"Why don't you care?" asked Winnie suddenly. "Why don't you give a damn? You should be with Daley – don't you remember, she liked you, for some absurd reason she thought she liked you. You're not even going to ever see the child of someone you loved!"

Becca's eyes raked over Winnie's shoulder and rested on me. Gazing into my eyes, she asked, "Who says I ever loved her?"

"You love every one of us who comes through Roy's house, and you damn well know that. Look at me. Stop it, look at me!"

Winnie grabbed Becca's chin and forced Becca to look in her the eye. "Say something," said Winnie. "Say something before I break your little neck."

Without betraying a hint of fear, a smile teased around Becca's mouth and she replied, "Such empty threats, Winnie."

The two women looked at each other for a second longer, then Winnie grunted and let Becca go. "It's not worth it," Winnie told me, as if this were my fault. "Let's go."

But then, the door opened, and Al's voice said, "Becca?"

I turned around. There were deep shadows beneath his eyes, and he walked with a sort of fragility that seemed foreign to his body.

"Ed," he said when he saw me.

I nodded, but before I could reply Becca pressed herself against him and whispered something in his ear. He nodded, and allowed her to pull him back into the building, with just a meek wave before he disappeared.

I looked after him.

"He didn't look good," commented Winnie.

"Yeah," I agreed. "There's something wrong here."

"But what?"

We began to walk back again. I considered it for a moment, then said slowly, "He was sick, a few months ago. Not very bad, but… if he's not any better… maybe it's serious…"

"Don't worry," said Winnie abruptly. "Becca may be spiteful, but she's not stupid. She'll take care of him."

There was a silence, the longest yet. Then, I asked softly, "You love her, don't you?"

Without hesitation, Winnie replied bitterly, "How could I not? She's me, if I had grown up under different circumstances. She's me, if I had had a sister instead of a brother. She's me, if my father hadn't been so damn nice."

I put a hand on her back. "Are you alright?"

She didn't reply.

It was late afternoon by the time we got back, and for half a second when we opened the door, it was silent, and then all the sounds of the house reached our ears – low conversation from upstairs, the creak of floorboards in the hallway, and a baby crying.

Winnie and I looked at each other. Then, someone came down stairs. Shauna beamed when she saw us. "Took you long enough to get back," she said matter-of-factly. "Go see the baby, she's beautiful."

"She?" asked Winnie.

"Yeah, a girl," replied Shauna. "Really little, but healthy."

Letting go of me, Winnie disappeared upstairs. I smiled, but still lingered downstairs for a few moments. Shauna regarded me, with an amused look on her face. "What?" I asked finally.

"Get up there," she said. "You've said it before, you're part of this family now. Go."

I looked at her for a second, then nodded. "Yeah. Of course."

Cautiously, I went upstairs. The door to Helena's room was shut, and, at the end of the hallway, by the window, Roy had Riza in his arms, rocking her gently, eyes closed. I went into Daley's room.

Winnie was sitting next to Daley, with Lillian on the other side. Margaret sat on the windowsill, and Fiona on the floor, next to Margaret.

I took a seat next to Winnie as she asked, "So what are you going to name her?"

Daley had a soft, high voice. "I'm not sure," she said. "I'd like to name her after someone, but I don't know who."

"How about Margaret?" asked Margaret, grinning. A small smile appeared on Daley's face.

I had never seen Daley smile. She was always quiet, always reserved. She moved with a slow sort of grace that I had always wondered about vaguely. I had never really spoken to her more than a few words. She was one of those people who seemed invisible in every way. Or she had been, until this moment.

She looked happy. She looked like the happiest person I had ever seen, as she tenderly held her daughter.

"Faith," she said slowly. "I'll call her Faith."

Winnie nodded; the women around me all agreed with some sort of comment. I couldn't take my eyes off the child.

I didn't know the story behind Daley's pregnancy. I didn't know who the father was, and I didn't even know if it had been her choice to have this baby. But she still loved the girl.

Conversation continued. I couldn't concentrate.

I had never imagined myself with a child. That partly stemmed from the fact that I never imagined myself marrying, neither Noa nor anyone else. Yes, I could have been with Noa, had a life with her, but for some reason marrying her was something that never came to mind. Marriage always seemed to be something for people older than I. It wasn't that I was against marriage; it had just never occurred to me before.

Daley smiled again, stronger now. I thought, I want to make a woman this happy.

Then I shook my head, thinking about what a fool I was. There was no way to marry without settling down, and I knew that I would do anything but settle down here, in America. I'd get a job where I had to keep moving, that took me all over the country, so I wouldn't have to stay in one place so long.

This was the most I had thought about my future in a long time. For the most part, I had always stayed in the present, thinking about now and only now, because I didn't know what would happen to me a day from now, a week, a year. It was too depressing.

I felt a pang in my heart as I realized my vision of the future didn't include Winnie. So what? She was just a girl. Just a woman. It didn't matter if I had her in my life or not. It was alright to be solitary, wasn't it?

But this world had its expectations; young men are expected to marry, and young women are expected to bear their husband's children. Wouldn't I look strange?...

Since when had I cared what others think? This was my life, and my life alone. I didn't have to conform to any standards.

Even though I didn't have to, I think a part of me, all along, knew that I still wanted to.

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Gahh I meant to update yesterday. Sorry.

Rebecca is simply despicable, isn't she? She makes me angry, and I created her. There's plenty more of her coming up.

And Faith was born on Easter Sunday. Ahahaha. Talk about symbolism.

I updated the Author's Note in my profile. Tell me what you think of this chapter. Thank you so much for reading, I really appreciate it!

Oh, and you're going to absolutely hate me for leaving you with next chapter's cliffhanger. :D