Eve's Rib, page 25
“There are times a girl needs her momma,” Janet said. “And her best friend.” She wrapped one arm around Eve’s shoulders. The air sizzled with the combined energy flowing between them.
A little boy walked by holding the hand of his mother. His tears still fresh from a tetanus shot. The mother picked him up, even though he was too big for that sort of affection. She kissed him on the cheek before leaving through the double doors. The scene tugged at Eve’s heart but didn’t break it as it would have done before. She understood what she had and what she didn’t anymore. And what was more important, she’d made peace with it.
“Do you think he’s gone, Janet?” They both knew she didn’t mean Michael, despite the little boy reminding both of them of him.
“Don’t worry, Eve,” Janet said. “The Ragman’s like a vampire. You got to let him in before he can do you any harm. Now you’ve shown him the door, he won’t come again — unless you call.” Janet lifted one high arched brow. “And I know you won’t be foolish enough to call on him again.”
Eve smiled. “No,” she said. “No, I won’t.” Eve knew now that the Ragman hadn’t lived in Abbey but in her own worst fears. Eve would never let the long shadow of her daughter’s conception cloud her judgment again.
Janet stood up and stretched. “I’m going to check out that vending machine too. I can’t eat that shit they serve on the plane. You want anything?”
“I’m fine.”
Eve turned her attention to the TV bolted on the wall as Janet went in search of food. The news was on. A photo of Julia next to one of Mark floated above a ticker tape headline. Eve narrowed her eyes and the screen switched to snow just as Richard and her mother emerged through the double doors.
“Where’s Abbey?” Eve asked after Richard had sat down.
“Janet picked up her cellphone at the house,” Richard said. “She gave Abbey the keys to her Volvo so she could get it from the car.”
“On crutches,” Eve said, alarmed. Her restless mind’s eye searched outside the confines of the hospital waiting room. She saw Abbey with Janet’s key ring held between her teeth as she hobbled alone out to the parking lot on her crutches. Eve held her rib and prepared to stand so she could go and check on her.
“Honestly,” her mother said, plunking down beside her. She lifted her bedazzled cane to bar her daughter’s way. “You worry too much.”
Eve pushed the cane lightly away but remained seated. “Didn’t you worry about me when I was seventeen, Mom?”
“Of course. There’s always something horribly wrong with all teenage girls. You can’t help but worry about them. But they all come out in the wash,” she said. “You did.”
Eve smiled and took a breath as she allowed her mind’s eye to rest. There was no need to watch anymore. Abbey was beautiful and bright and just as horrible and wonderful as the next teenage girl. She’d make her own choices, live out her own fate. She was her own person, so much more than how she was made, separate from Eve and her past mistakes.
* * *
SHE DIDN’T SEE ABBEY AS she reached the car in a far corner of the hospital parking lot. Didn’t see her lean on the hood of Janet’s Volvo to pull the recorder out from where she’d hidden it down her jeans. Abbey deleted the voice recordings she’d made in the trunk, especially the one about Michael and her diary. She couldn’t afford any misunderstandings.
A small white fluffy form emerged in the greying light of the dawn, trotting toward her across the lot. The dog built up speed as it recognized Abbey. It jumped into her arms as she bent down to scoop him up, balanced precariously on one crutch. She leaned back against the hood of the car, whispering in one floppy white ear.
“Where have you been, little guy?” she said. “I thought you’d run away.”
Then she grabbed hold of his furry neck and snapped it.
It was so much easier than the Patels’ cat, who’d fought her unfamiliar hands. Abbey had only managed to paralyze the animal with the manoeuvre before she dissected it in the garage. Science camp had made her very curious about the insides of living things. She planned to become a doctor after all. There’d been a lot of blood, and she’d ruined the borrowed shirt she was wearing. She’d stuffed it in the laundry hamper, knowing her mother could always be counted on to clean up her messes.
“There’s only room for one familiar in our house, puppy,” Abbey said, dropping the dead dog to the pavement. Abbey didn’t understand about familiars, that she couldn’t really be one. But she wanted to understand. After what she’d seen her mother do at the quarry, she was eager to learn. She hopped down from the car hood and kicked the dog’s body with her good foot. The animal skidded to a rest under the wheels of Janet’s Volvo. Later she’d be horrified to think she’d run over him. Abbey opened the passenger door with the keys and extracted her phone from the glove compartment. Taking several selfies of herself with her crutches, she decided on the perfect one before posting it on Instagram.
Eve didn’t see any of this as she waited patiently for her X-ray, secure in her belief that her daughter was like any other. Horrible and wonderful and filled with her own fate. Eve would no longer be watching all the time. And maybe that was a good thing.
Because there were some things a mother just wasn’t made to see.
Acknowledgements
This book would not be possible without the many special women in my life. My mother, my daughters, my dear friends. I am so grateful for all of them, and for the unique magic that each of them possesses.
I am also grateful for the seemingly normal, well-
adjusted women who told me all the worst things they did as teenage girls — just because I asked. Many of their stories contributed to the character of Abbey. And, needless to say, they make for a harrowing read.
Of course, there are men to thank as well. My publisher, Scott Fraser, who first believed in me (and to my shock, apparently still does). My editor, Dominic Farrell, who patiently and professionally dodges the fury of a corrected writer’s scorn. My dad, for never letting me forget about this book.
But most of all, I want to thank my husband, Marcus, for everything he does. His magic, like all great loves, is the strongest of all.
About The Author
C.S. O’Cinneide was born in Toronto, Ontario. In 2015, she walked the Camino de Santiago, where the disappearance of a female pilgrim inspired her first dark thriller, Petra’s Ghost, a semi-finalist in the 2019 Goodreads Choice Awards. In 2020, she followed this success with The Starr Sting Scale and, in 2021, Starr Sign, both tongue-in-cheek noirs starring a hardboiled former hitwoman. Eve’s Rib is inspired by her personal experience raising three daughters successfully into adulthood. Luckily for her, there was not a murderer in the bunch. O’Cinneide lives in Guelph, Ontario, with her Irish ex-pat husband, who remains her constant muse.
C.S. O'Cinneide, Eve's Rib
