Through the Door (The Thin Veil) - By Jodi McIsaac Page 0,3
her heart and lungs. A true artist. He was happiness and beauty and excruciating pain. She reached for Eden’s plate, but Eden grabbed it back, saying, “Hey! I’m not done!”
“Sorry,” Cedar said. “No, he wasn’t a painter. I’m going to the bathroom.” She dumped her own plate in the trash and headed through her bedroom into the en suite. She closed the door and leaned against it, pinching the bridge of her nose. She didn’t feel ready to have this conversation, although she knew the questions would only keep coming. The problem was that she didn’t have any answers, at least not the kind Eden would be looking for. I don’t know why he left me. I don’t know where he is. I don’t know if he’s ever coming back. I don’t know if he ever truly loved me.
“I’m done my dinner. Can I be excused?” Eden called through the bathroom door. Cedar opened it.
“Yes, of course,” she said. “Do you want to watch a movie before bedtime? I’ve got some work to do tonight.”
Normally this would have induced a squeal of glee and a race for the sofa, but instead Eden just stood there, chewing on her lip.
“Hannah says she doesn’t believe I have a dad because I don’t know anything about him,” she said. “She says I’m a test-tube baby, and they’re going to put me in the zoo. Am I?”
Cedar stared at her, shocked. Were six-year-olds really that cruel? “Are you a test-tube baby? No, my heart, of course not. There are lots of kids who don’t really know their fathers. I didn’t know mine, remember?” Cedar’s father had died when she was just a baby. Maeve had never remarried, so it had always been just the two of them. She knelt down and wrapped Eden in her arms. As a child, Cedar, too, had been full of questions about her father, but it had never been a topic of conversation her mother had encouraged. There weren’t even any pictures of him in the house. After a while, she had stopped asking about him. She wondered when Eden would reach that same point. “Hannah’s just being mean, and you don’t need to listen to her. Of course you have a father. He’s just not part of our family. You and I are a family, and that’s all we need.”
Cedar could feel her daughter’s little body start to shake in her arms, and she tightened her hold. “But I want a dad,” Eden wailed. “Everyone else has a dad!”
“Shh, it’s okay,” Cedar said, rubbing Eden’s back. Tears were pricking at her own eyes, but she tried to hold them back. “Your father was a really good person. He loved music and books, and his favorite pizza was ham and pineapple, just like yours. And you look a lot like him.”
“But why isn’t he here?” Eden sniffed.
Cedar took a deep breath to steady her voice. “I don’t know, to be honest. I wish I did. He went away before he knew I was pregnant. He didn’t leave because of you, Eden. That’s really important for you to understand. I know it’s hard, but he probably doesn’t even know about you. He left before I could tell him. When you came along, I tried to find him. But I couldn’t. I’m sorry.”
Eden pulled away, her face twisted. “It’s not fair!” Cedar tried to hug her again, but she yanked herself free and stormed down the hall. Cedar stood and watched her disappear around the corner. She’d give her a few minutes of alone time, and then go talk to her again. She listened for the inevitable slamming of Eden’s door. It didn’t come. Instead, Eden’s screams died off as suddenly as if she had run out of air. The apartment fell silent, a sharp contrast to the storm of six-year-old anger that had been raging only moments before.
“Eden?” Cedar called out. Nothing. “Eden?” she tried again, starting to walk down the hall.
“Mummy? Mummy!” came Eden’s voice.
Cedar quickly rounded the corner and saw Eden standing in the hallway outside her bedroom, staring open-mouthed through the gaping doorway. There was some sort of light reflecting on her face. It glimmered and shifted and created strange shapes and lines on her skin, casting her in an otherworldly glow. A slight breeze was lifting the edges of her sundress, brushing it against her legs. A small trail of fine sand crept through the doorway and was starting to collect around her feet.