The Memory Child by Steena Holmes Page A

emember?”
    “We were kids. We had no idea what we were promising.” I leaned back and prepared myself for this conversation. I knew where it was leading, and as much as I hated it, my little sister needed it. I somehow needed to show her that things were different.
    “Maybe I didn’t. But you did. And Mags. Mags knew. She lived through it with us.” Charlie sighed. “I thought Marcus understood that. He said he did. He said he was okay with adoption and he still is, but…he wants his own natural child too. And I can’t. You know that, I know that. I thought he did as well.” She played with the ring on her finger again. “I thought we could have it all. Like you and Br ian did.”
    “Have.”
    “What?” She glanced up and looked at me in confusion.
    “Have. You said ‘did.’ You want what Brian and I have,” I corre cted her.
    “Diane—”
    “No. I get it,” I interrupted. “Trust me. I thought what we had was enough. But with Grace, so much has changed. For the better. When I was pregnant, I thought my world had ended. I even thought about abortion. But Brian convinced me to let go of the past and to give our future a chance, and I’m so glad I did. Just because our mother could n’t cope—”
    “Couldn’t cope?” This time it was Charlie’s turn to interrupt me. “She had postpartum psychosis, Diane. It was more than just not coping. She didn’t smother our brother and then kill herself just because she couldn’t cope. Are you kidding me?” She jumped up from the couch and paced the floor of the loft. “No, don’t answer that. You’re kidding yourself if you think that ’s true.”
    Her hands clenched at her sides while I just sat there, unable to reply. I didn’t want to go there. She knew that. We didn’t talk about what our mother did. It was how we coped. How I sti ll coped.
    “Charlie.” I licked my dry lips and tried to think of something reassuring to say. “Charlie, things are different now. Back then, there was no help for Mom, but there is now. If, God forbid, this were to happen to us, that we would…you know, that we couldn’t…” I couldn’t say the words.
    “Go crazy? Lose our minds? Experience not just depression but a life-altering disease that could have us killing our child? Is that what you’re trying to say?” Charlie spat out the words, her face an ugly mask of anger an d disdain.
    “I will not kill Grace!” Anger bubbled up inside at the idea that I would do anything as horri d as that.
    Charlie stopped her pacing and dropped to her knees. Her shoulders sagged as she star ed at me.
    “Of course you wouldn’t. But what about me? What if I killed my child? Christopher was her third child, our baby brother. What if we were the ones to drive Mom over the edge? What if it was too much for her to take care of all of us? God knows she had enough on her hands with an alcoholic husband. Maybe we were too much?” Charlie bowed her head. “If I have Marcus’s baby, I wouldn’t be with Doctors Without Borders anymore. I’d be home, alone, raising our child. What if it’s too much for me?”
    I dropped down to the floor beside her and grabbed hold of her hand.
    “We are not our mother. Just because it happened to her doesn’t mean it will happen to us. It doesn’t. Mags was wrong.” I gripped her hand hard while my body shook. From anger or fear, I was n’t sure.
    Charlie lifted her head and stared at me. I could see the words forming on her lips, as if she had something she wanted to say, but she stopped herself. Her body deflated and I knew, in that instant, that something drastically had changed between us. She pulled her hand away from mine and gripped her knees.
    “I don’t think she was. I’ve seen a lot of cases of postpartum depression and psychosis. There’s so much the medical community doesn’t know about this disease. They don’t know if it’s hereditary, in the genes, or just a hormonal imbalance. But I’m not willing to risk my