There is no greater warrior than a mother protecting her child. (N.K. Jemisin)
“Every morning in Africa, a gazelle wakes up, it knows it must outrun the fastest lion or it will be killed. Every morning in Africa, a lion wakes up. It knows it must run faster than the slowest gazelle, or it will starve. It doesn’t matter whether you’re the lion or a gazelle-when the sun comes up, you’d better be running.”
― Christopher McDougall, Born to Run: A Hidden Tribe, Superathletes, and the Greatest Race the World Has Never Seen
PART I: Dug and Ness
In hindsight, running at night was not my smartest move. The truth was I tempted fate just to prove that I could and live through it. It made me feel free. It made me feel alive.
I fancied myself a beautiful gazelle, running through the night. I was not a gazelle. I was just me. I was Ev: completely awkward, marched to my own drum, and made epic bad choices Ev. I couldn’t change who I was. Some days, I liked who I had become. Other days, I wished I had handled things differently.
I loved to run when the sun was dropping behind the clouds or when it was completely dark with nothing but the stars and the moon to guide me. I always had my eclectic mix of tunes on my IPOD and my cell phone stuck in my sports bra up under my arm pit. I always forgot my mace, which was stupid, considering I lived alone and had seen enough crime thrillers, read enough scary books to know better. I was, after all, in better shape than I had ever been in and what could bring me down? I kept running past the high school and looked at the people walking on the football field track. I waved as I always did. I was nothing if not friendly. Yes, I was nice to everyone I met,but it still left me divorced and single at 45. Sometimes, loneliness hit, but truthfully, I enjoyed my solitude. There was safety in solitude. I didn’t have to answer to anyone and I didn’t have to follow anyone’s rules. I was my own person.
I have a son, but he didn’t want to live with me. He was 15 and lived with his grandparents. We got along okay but in all honesty, I was a selfish fuck at times and wished I had done things differently with him. I am sure most parents feel that way. I guess in many ways it served me right to have my son not want to live with me. I missed him. I guess he missed me, but living together wasn’t in our cards. His name was Donnie. He is fifteen and so handsome that it scares me. I don’t believe most days that I produced such a physically beautiful, attractive child, because I am not beautiful in the least. I am cute. I will agree with cute, but never pretty, never sexy-just cute and funny. There was something almost angelic in the beauty that Donnie possessed and honestly, he didn’t get it from his father or me. We weren’t unpleasant looking people,but we weren’t beautiful by any means. Our son was beautiful and at fifteen, he was a little bit vain. I am quite sure he will outgrow that…. I am hoping so. Otherwise, he may be physically attractive but alone for the rest of his life. No one likes a beautiful person who knows they are beautiful. They lose their beauty when they opened their mouth and all they wanted to talk about was their muscles and how great they were.
I ran past the house where the old man lived. He often sat on his porch and watched the walkers and the joggers. He gave me the creeps. He was so quite on his porch you didn’t even know he was there unless you looked. He sometimes wouldn’t be on the porch. He would be standing by a tree in his yard, or on the side of the house. I often wondered if he was mentally ill. He never looked like he changed clothes. He always wore denim overalls with a white t-shirt underneath. He was physically large. He was at least six foot four inches. He was also wide and the overalls were tight on him around the middle. He wore shoes that looked as though they were built up with orthotics of some sort. Tonight, he was standing on the side of the house. I stopped in the street and looked at him.He didn’t move and I suddenly felt brave and I walked toward him.
“Hello,” I said to him. He didn’t reply. I walked across the yard to get closer to him in case he was hard of hearing. “Hello, why do stand out here and stare at people?”
He just looked at me. I noticed he had slanted eyes and felt bad. I realized had Down’s syndrome. “He knows you,” he told me with slurred speech. He talked as if his tongue was too big for his mouth.“He knows you,” he repeated.
I looked around. “Do you live alone?” I asked. My voice was friendly. “I live down the street. Who knows me?”
He took a lumbering step toward me. “I am Dug.” He smiled and his face softened. He looked like an over-sized child. “I watch you run. I don’t know you though, not really.”
I smiled back at him. “I am Ev.” I told him. “It’s short for Evelyn. I am Evelyn Trammell.”
He was standing in front of me now. “I like your name. He knows you. He watches you run too.” He held out his hand politely to shake mine. I shook his hand. His hand was so large, when we shook you couldn’t even see my hand. He was gentle and didn’t squeeze. His fingers were very short and stubby. His hands were soft and his fingernails were clean.
“Who does?”
He got so close to me I could smell his sweat and breath. He smelled like liver and onions. “Why the neighboring man, silly.” He acted as if I should know who he was talking about. “He thinks you are different. That you sing pretty and look okay too. He wants to pick your brain. Get to know you and love you madly.”
I smiled. I figured he must have been talking about some friend. “Well Dug, there isn’t much to pick in my brain. I am what I am. It’s nice someone thinks I am interesting though.”
He looked at me sadly. “Oh it isn’t nice, Ev. It isn’t nice at all. Not tidy. No sir.”
The front door to his house opened and an elderly woman with a stooped stature and silver hair in a bun came out. “Dug, get your butt in here and take a bath. “ She looked at me. “I am sorry if he was bothering you.”
I smiled to her. “He wasn’t bothering me. We were just visiting weren’t we, Dug?”
His smile lit up his whole face and it took years off. He wasn’t as old as I thought. He was maybe in his early fifties. “We are friends now, Ma. Her name is Ev. I am Dug and she’s Ev and we are friends.”
“Yes Dug, we are,” my heart swelled because he seemed so happy to have a friend.
His mother smiled at me. “You are a kind lady. Most people are scared of Dug. He’s big and he is different. He is kind though. Wouldn’t hurt a fly.”
“I like different, ma’am.”
“Oh, call me Ness,” she said and walked over to me. To be so stooped, she was pretty spry. “Me and Dug have been together for so long we forget that not all people are hateful.”
She held out her hand and I shook it. Although her hand looked frail, her shake was strong. “I am not a big believer in being hateful. It makes the world an ugly place. I am Ev Trammell. I live down the street. I run several nights a week. I have noticed that Dug watches me and tonight I decided to ask him why. “
“It’s nice to meet you,” she told me and there was a calm strength that rose from her that made me like the woman instantly. Our eyes met and I knew she had seen hard times and survived something terrible, but somehow it made her a stronger better person. Her eyebrows rose and she asked, “He tell you anything?”
I looked at her strangely. “About what?”
“Oh Duggie, he has visions and sometimes only he can understand them. I take it you must be the night runner he talks about,” she explained. “He told me this morning that the night runner was going to stop and talk to him. I wasn’t sure if it was a vision or an imaginary friend. He has those too.”
“How interesting,” I said. Goose flesh covered my arms. “He mentioned that the neighbor man or someone knew me.”
She smiled at me but it was strained. “I may sound like a crazy old woman. Heed what he says but take it with a grain of salt, it could be a vision or it could be a made up fantasy. The Good Lord may have made him handicapped, but in some areas he is hypersensitive. He does know things sometimes and I listen and file what he says in my feeble brain in case I need them later. If you decide to really be his friend, I would do same. If you decide not to be his friend, I would still file it away. ”
I liked her. I liked Dug and felt bad for misjudging him as creepy. Another example of never judge a book by its cover. “I plan to file it away. It was great meeting you both, but I need to get going. I will be seeing you both again soon. “
“Bye Ev,” Dug called out. “Be safe. He knows you.” His eyes went glassy. “I am gonna go to the bath, Ma. I will get clean and tidy for bed.”
“Bye, Dug,” Ev called. She watched Dug turn and go in the house. “Who knows me?”
“That’s a good question.” Ness said and turned to go into the house.
I ran and ran. I waved to the nice looking man on Palm Street. He had dark hair and was around six foot tall. He was rugged looking. I always enjoyed seeing him working in his yard shirtless. I wondered what he did for a living. My guess was he was a teacher of some kind. He looked studious when he worked in his yard. He always looked as though he were concentrating on something important, even when he watered his flowers. I listened to my music but really didn’t hear it. I kept wondering who knew me. I kept thinking of Dug and his Ma. How could I have been so cruel to misjudge him? He was just a middle aged man with Down syndrome. Not a pervert or a killer. My imagination was really getting away with me and I was ashamed of myself. Dug and his mom seemed like nice people. Maybe, a little eccentric but really nice. I ran another mile and went home, showered (clean and tidy) for bed. I was asleep within thirty minutes and never gave another thought to the neighboring man that Dug mentioned.
A few nights after I met Dug and Ness, I went running and on my way back from my run I stopped by their house to drop of some cookies I had made. Ness opened the door and invited me in. Dug was sitting in the floor of the living room playing with hot wheels. “Look Ev,” he said and pointed to a hot wheel that was a truck of some sort that was red. “The neighboring man drives one like this.”
I sat on the floor next to him. “Wow! That’s a cool truck. Is that your favorite?”
He smiled at me and started to laugh. A deep throaty laugh that I knew was from the inner soul. “Why goodness no, Ev. I like the mustang. I like the hot rods.” I patted his shoulder. “Of course you do! How silly of me.”
“Ev, you are a silly. A big silly.” He laughed some more. “Does your son like hot rods?”
I looked at him shocked. “How do you know I have a son?”
He blushed. “I know things, didn’t Ma tell you?”
I looked at his mother. “Yes, she did- sort of.”
“Does he?” he asked me sheepishly.
“Does he what?” I asked confused.
“Silly Ev. Does he like hot rods?” His eyes were wide with wonder. He had the innocence of a child behind those blue slanted eyes.
“Yes, he does. He loves hot rods. His name is Donnie.” I told him. “Donnie is…”
“Beautiful,” he finished. I was so shocked my jaw fell open. “He is beautiful. He gets it from you but you don’t think you are beautiful but you are. You are, you are. The neighboring man sure does like you. He is not sure how worthy you are though. “
Dug’s mother put her hand on my shoulder. “Dug, me and Ms. Ev are going to have some coffee with the some cookies she made for us. You keep playing with your cars. I want to talk to Ms. Ev about some things.”
“Ok Ma,” he agreed, his child like wonder all over his face. “I just wanna play with my cars.
“Vroom… vroooom…. I would like a cookie and some milk if it is ok. I promise I will stay tidy. I won’t get crumbs on the floor neither, Ma.”
“Okay Duggie,” Ness said. “I will make you some cookies and milk. No crumbs on the floor, understand?”
“I sure do, Ma. No crumbs on the floor.”
I got up off the floor and followed Ness into the kitchen. Her kitchen was bright and yellow. It inspired warmth. She put two cookies on a small paper plate and fixed a glass of milk for Dug. She took them to him in her spry way and I set at the table and waited for her. She came back in and set across from me and took my hand in hers.
“I am sorry if Dug scared you,” she told me. “He doesn’t have a filter. I take it you do have a son?” I shook my head yes. “He knows things, Ev. I don’t know how or why. He just does. When he was six years old, he asked me not to go to work. I told him I had too. He said the masked man would be at my car after. He had tears in his eyes, but I told him not to worry and went to work. He stayed with a sitter back then. I went in and did my book keeping and came out to my car in the garage of the building. There was a man stooped at my car and he jumped me. He beat me up and left me for dead.
He took all my jewelry, my purse, my keys and my old beat up car. I was lucky he didn’t kill me. He wore a mask, Ev. Dug warned me, but I didn’t listen.” I looked at her. “I know it is hard to believe. I don’t really expect you to believe me, but Dug is special and not just because he has Down’s. He just knows things. I don’t know why. It just is.” She smiled calmly. “Just like he knew the night runner was going to bring us cookies tonight.” She got up, made coffee, and sat the plate of cookies on the table.
I sat there in silence; my heart in my throat. I don’t know why I was scared but I knew things were changing somehow and I needed to be scared. Something in my universe had changed when I introduced myself to Dug.
“What else has he known?” I asked.
Ness sat a cup of coffee in front of me. Her hand was shaking. She let out a deep breath. “I don’t know why I like you so much, Ev. I don’t even know why I am telling you this. You probably are going to think I’m a crazy old woman. He has always known about his father, even though he never met him. Never has seen a picture of him.”
“Who is his father?”
Again, she let out a deep breath, the woman deflated in front of me. “I was only 17 when Dug came to be. I have raised him on my own. Dug is the best thing that has ever happened to me. I lived in a little town growing up. I had a great family. My sister and I were close. We were only two years apart and she and I were more than sisters we were best friends. She was crazy about this boy who was 19. I was sixteen, she had just turned 14. This boy, Eli, he was handsome and came from one of the rich families in town. We weren’t rich, but well liked in the community and Bernadette, Bernie-I called her, invited Eli over. Our folks were not home, I don’t remember where they were. I was over at a friend’s house. Bernie and Eli were at the house alone. I don’t know what happened until I got there. “She looked up at the ceiling, tears in her eyes. “I walked in the house to find Bernie on the floor. She was crying. I ran to her to see what was wrong, but she was crying so hard I couldn’t understand her. She was hysterical. I kept asking what had happened. Where was Eli? Why was she crying? I helped her to her feet and walked her to her room. She asked in a shaky voice for me to take her to the bathroom. I took her, but I wouldn’t let her go alone. I stayed in the bathroom with her. She peed blood, and she screamed and screamed. I knew then she had been raped. She had been hurt in ways a woman should never be hurt. I asked her who did it. I wanted to know. She would not answer. She just asked me to leave it alone. She stayed home the next day from school. She was sick she told our mother. I begged to stay home with her and help her, but my mother told me I was being ridiculous. I said ‘she needs me, momma’. My mother, sweet as could be, told me to go to school that she would take care of Bernie. I didn’t disobey and went to school and cornered Eli. I asked him what happened.
He looked at me and sneered. ‘My daddy wanted a virgin, so I got him one. If you had been home, I would have got us both one’. I was shocked. This family was a pillar of the community. Members of the Church of Christ, school board and the patriarch had raped my sister so savagely she was in bed at home still bleeding from her vagina and anus. I wanted to kill him. I wanted to kill Eli. I wanted to do something, but I was sixteen and what could I do?”
I was wondering where this was going. What was Ness going to tell me? I was almost scared to know where the story was going. I got up and fixed me another cup of coffee and topped Ness’ off while she caught her breath. I could tell this was taking a great deal out of her. She was reliving something that broke her heart again every time she told it to someone and I had hunch she rarely told it to anyone.
“Are you okay? You don’t have to tell me this if you don’t want too,” I told her.
“No,” Ness said, “it’s been too long since I told anyone. Bernie changed after her rape. She never went out. She avoided Eli at school. She began to wear baggie clothes. I noticed she was sick a lot. The color of her skin was pale. Momma started to notice too. Daddy, well, Daddy didn’t notice things, unless it was pointed out to him. He preferred to be oblivious to what was going on. You know how men are about their daughters. They never expect them to grow up and become women. It is awkward for them. Bernie was miserable. I could tell and Momma could tell. One Saturday, when
Daddy wasn’t home, we cornered Bernie. I was ready for it to happen, thinking Bernie would tell Momma what happened and justice would be served. I wanted that bastard, Eli and his father, who the community worshiped to get what, was coming to them. I wanted blood to be drawn.
‘Bernie, are you pregnant?’ momma asked. I looked at Bernie and took her hand. I was prepared to stand by her no matter what. Through thick and thin, that was us. Bernie burst into tears.
‘I am,’ she told us. ‘I am sorry.’
My mother turned beet red. ‘Bernie, what happened? Who is the father? Why? Oh my God, your reputation. Our reputation…your father…” Momma begin to pace. I didn’t know how she couldn’t be worried about her young daughter who was pregnant. Bernie was still a child herself.
I looked at my mother dumbfounded. ‘What is wrong with you, Momma?’
She looked at me as if I sprouted chicken wings. ‘What is wrong with ME? What in the hell is wrong with you? She can’t stay. We have to send her to a home and let her have the baby and give it away. She can’t keep it, Ness. It would ruin her.’
Bernie just kept crying silently. No sound came from her. Her shoulders just shook up and down. It was one of the most pitiful things I had ever seen. ‘Momma, she is your daughter. This isn’t her fault!’ I screamed.
‘What do you mean, Vanessa Rose?’ my mother asked.
‘She was....’
Bernie cut me off. ‘She is right. I need to go, Ness.’
‘Tell her what happened, Bernie?’ I pleaded. My heart was breaking. I was enraged. I wanted our mother to understand that Bernie had been hurt and who had done it. They needed to pay and they needed to go to jail. They needed punishment. My baby sister was the victim. She was an innocent in all of this.
She shook her head no. ‘I will pack.’
I looked at Momma and begged with my eyes for her to stop this.
‘Momma, we can go to Grandma and Grandpa’s cabin until the baby is due,’ I suggested. ‘I will go with her and stay.’
My mother looked at me. Her eyes were glassy with rage. ‘Why would you do that? It isn’t your reputation that is ruined, Ness.’
I got right up in my mother’s face. ‘Because I love her and I want to stand by her. This isn’t right. Tell the god damned community we went to a secretarial school. I don’t care what they think. She is my sister, my family and I am not going to abandon her. You aren’t the mother I thought you were, you are superficial and selfish.’ She slapped me then. Slapped me hard. I had never even been spanked by either of my parents. “She is your daughter. You need to stand by her. You don’t understand what has happened to her.’ Tears had filled my eyes. I loved my sister. I didn’t understand how my mother could be so unsympathetic to the situation. She gave birth to Bernie.
‘You are both ungrateful. Your father has worked so hard to get where he is and Bernie being pregnant will be the talk of this town and will bring him and us down,’ she told me. ‘It will make us the gossip of the town and it will ruin your father.” My mother was pacing again nervously.
‘I am going,’ I told her and I took Bernie’s hand and led her to our rooms to pack. After packing, I took Bernie to my room, and held her and let her cry. We listened as our parents screamed at each other. Daddy didn’t want to send Bernie away, but he was no match for mother’s rage. When Mother had made up her mind about something there was no reasoning with her.
‘She is just 14. Who is the father?’ he asked.
‘She won’t tell me,’ I heard my mother say. My mother had not cared enough to ask. She acted as if it took only Bernie to make the baby she was carrying. He agreed but only if I went with Bernie. He felt I was right; Bernie didn’t need to handle all of this alone. She needed support and he knew I would support her and love her no matter what. I think my father lost all respect for my mother as parent that day. He truly loved us but feared our mother’s wrath even more. My mother could be very mean and ugly when things didn’t go her way. My father was the fun parent, but mother was the parent whose life was a show for the community. We were to be seen, be pretty and not to shake the boat.
The next day he drove us to the cabin that was two hours away and twenty minutes to the hospital. He cried most of the drive. He told both of us he loved us. No matter what we were his little girls. He was proud that we were going to stick together and even though we didn’t believe it, our mother loved us but had such a hard time handling stress. ‘I love you both so much,’ he told us over and over again. My father was a kind man. My mother was not a bad woman but status meant so much to her. I never understood people’s obsession with status. You can’t take it with you.
The cabin was by a lake and had two bedrooms, a kitchen that dad had well stocked with a phone call the night before. There was a rowboat in the lake for us to use at our will. Daddy unloaded our suitcases and left us with tears streaming down his face. We stood there in the driveway and cried until his car was out of sight.
Later that evening, after we had eaten supper, I took Bernie by the hand and asked: ‘Why didn’t you tell Momma what happened? I know Eli’s father raped you.’
She looked me in the eye. ‘If you ever tell anyone, Ness, they will kill all of us. They told me they would kill my family if I told anyone but not before they raped you and momma with a crow bar. Don’t cross them. Don’t even think of it.” She squeezed my hand. “They are evil and they will hurt us all if we tell the truth. The truth will kill us. If this baby is going to live, we just need to stay away from those men. They are evil.’
I promised her I wouldn’t tell. It was the hardest promise I ever made in my life. Until Bernie had been raped, I lived in a fairy-tale. I didn’t think evil could touch me or those I love. It had touched us, but only Bernie and I knew about it. Momma and Daddy still lived in their bubble. The bubble where Mother believed status was a halo and guaranteed your passage into heaven. If she only knew that the man who sat in the same church with her was an evil despicable person and was raising his son to do the same dirty work, she would choke on the choice she had made about Bernie.
Bernie and I did okay away from our parents. We would float around in the boat and Bernie began to smile and rub her belly. I saw a glimpse of the girl she was before the rape.
‘I make believe, Ness-that an angel got me pregnant. This baby didn’t ask to be conceived but if he had I would want an arch angel to be his daddy. He is gone be gifted, Ness. He is different,” she told me one day in the boat. She took my hand and put it on her belly. The baby kicked and I jumped and we both laughed so hard I thought the boat was going to tip over. For a moment we were happy.
‘Ness, I think I am going to name this baby Duglas Raphael.’
I smiled. ‘I like it.’
We rowed back to the cabin, fixed lunch, and napped. It was truly a happy day.
The months went by quickly. Bernie was getting larger by the day. Her belly was so tight, I felt it would actually burst open, when the baby moved; you could make out elbows and knees. It was a miracle in my eyes. The very fact that her body supported a living human being was a miracle. I was in awe. She actually had the glow of someone who was happily pregnant; us being at the cabin had been good for her. The lazy days of talking, floating in the canoe, cooking together, laughing together, and the moments of quiet reflection had been good for both of us.
One day, we were reading in lawn chairs by the lake and Bernie let out a sound of pain and grabbed her belly. ‘Oh God, that hurt,’ she told me. ‘Ness, I think I need to go to the hospital. ‘
I got up from my chair and went to the garage to start the old car my grandparents kept there for grocery store runs. I grabbed the key from under the floor mat and tried to start the car. It wouldn’t start. It was dead. It had started a few weeks ago. I could have kicked myself for not trying it sooner just in case. I tried not to panic, but I couldn’t keep the nervous butterflies from building in my stomach. I opened the door and went back out to Bernie.
She knew the minute she saw me, something was wrong. ‘What is it, Ness?’
‘The car won’t start,” I told her, there was no use lying. ‘I should have checked it before now. I wasn’t thinking.’
Bernie hobbled over to me. ‘You can’t panic, Ness. You can’t. I need you to be strong. My baby needs you.’ All of a sudden, there was a gush of warm water on both of our feet. Her water had broken. Bernie smiled at me. ‘Sorry about your shoes.’ A deep laugh escaped me. She was sorry about my shoes. She was going into labor and she was sorry about ruining my shoes. A stifled scream escaped Bernie. She grabbed my shoulders tightly. ‘God Ness, this hurts.’
I took her hand and led her into the house. I took her to her room and through off the blanket on her bed and left a fitted sheet and a cover sheet. I would be seventeen tomorrow and I had no idea what I was doing. I was just guessing. Once I got the bed situated, I helped Bernie take her clothes off.
Aside from her giant belly, she still looked so much like a little girl. She was just a girl in a situation that was beyond her control and I was the only person she could lean on. She needed me and I needed to be the big sister and buck up and deliver Bernie’s baby, which was OUR baby. We had seen this pregnancy through until the very end. This baby was OURS. This angel conceived in brutality belonged to both of us and I would do everything I could to deliver this baby and see my baby sister through this. I was praying like hell that her body knew how to deliver this baby.
I helped Bernie lay down on the bed and looked at her. I propped several pillows behind her to where she was sitting up. ‘I am going to go get some clean sheets and towels and water.’
She smiled. ‘I am really thirsty,’ she told me. I laughed.
‘I will get you something to drink too,’ I told her. ‘The water is for your head to help with the sweating during labor.’
I rushed into the kitchen, grabbed a big bowl and filled it with water; I grabbed wash rags and threw them in the water. I grabbed a glass and fixed Bernie a drink. I sat it beside the bowl and rushed into the hall closet and grabbed a hand full of sheets. I took the sheets to the bedroom and sat them at the end of the bed; went and got the water and sat in the chair beside Bernie’s bed.
Bernie grabbed my hand. ‘This is more than you ever wanted to share with me, huh?’
I smiled at her. ‘I wouldn’t have it any other way. We are sisters. We stick by each other. ‘
‘Your birthday is tomorrow, ‘she told me. ‘My baby may share the same birthday as you.’
‘Maybe,’ I told her.
She grunted in pain and squeezed my hand. She closed her eyes to ward off the pain. I would have taken the pain away from her if I could have but she grunted and grunted and all I could do is hold her hand. I put a cool rag on her head. I cursed myself internally again about the car and cursed my parents as I watched Bernie grunt. I held on to her hand and told her it would be okay. It would be worth all this pain to see the beautiful baby she was carrying. After 5 hours, her grunts became screams. ‘Ness, do something. Please, it feels like I am going to split in two. ‘I kept holding her hand. I didn’t know what else to do. ‘Ness, it feels wet, the bed feels wet,’ she told me. I lifted up the sheet.
The bed was soaked in blood. I tried not to let my face show my concern. I felt the color drain from my face. I didn’t know if this was normal. I didn’t know what to do. I grabbed a sheet and folded it and helped my baby sister lift her buttocks and slid it under her to absorb some of the blood. ‘Bernie you are going to have to spread your legs.’ She looked at me mortified and looked so much younger than her fourteen years. She was just a baby herself. Tears streamed down her face. ‘What if I split in half, Ness? I can’t do this. I can’t.’
I took her hand strongly and squeezed hard. ‘Yes you can. You have to for your baby. I would do it for you, but I can’t. This is up to you.’
She opened her legs. I could see that blood was coming out in a steady flow from her vagina. I was very concerned about that. I didn’t know if it was normal. My sister and I had led a somewhat sheltered life and our mother had never talked to us about sex. Everything we learned, we learned from our friends or sappy romance novels. I had never read anything about childbirth. I knew that Bernie hadn’t either. I decided to move to the end of the bed, so I could watch what was happening and put more sheets down to absorb the blood if needed.
Ness stopped telling her story and I looked at her in awe. A huge sigh left Ness as if she were reliving the labor her sister when through. She looked thoroughly exhausted. “Why didn’t you call anyone? ”I asked.
“Well, Ev,” she began. “My grandparents were old fashioned. They didn’t believe in phones.
While we were there, my father had paid the grocery store to deliver groceries to us once a month. We were living away from everyone. The car was there, but as I said, it wouldn’t start. My mother’s goal was to keep us hidden. She had succeeded. ”
“I know that when I had my son, “I told her. “It was the most painful thing I had ever done. I remember that I went through twelve hours hard labor and then had a C-section. Honestly Ness, I can’t imagine being pregnant at 14. Bernie must have been terrified. I was terrified and I was 27.”
I could tell Ness was lost in time. Remembering her and her sister staying in that cabin. The sweet times they spent on that lake, the talks, the welcoming silence and the togetherness.
“She was terrified. I was terrified. It was a different time then. In 1958, sex and being pregnant and unwed wasn’t as prevalent as it is now. You can’t turn on the TV without seeing some sex on TV. I may be old but I am not dead, sometimes I enjoy the shows, but the way they show rape and sensationalize it, well Ev, it makes me sick. Every time they show something about rape, I think of my sweet Bernie and how that evil boy and his father hurt her. She lost her childhood when that happened. She lost something she was never ever able to get back.”
“Ma!” Dug called from the other room. “Ma, can I have some more milk. I promise to stay tidy. I won’t make a mess. No ma’am, I sure won’t.”
Ness smiled. “I better get that boy some more milk.”
I laughed. “Let me do it. Take a breather, Ness. I want to hear the rest of the story.” I walked in and got Dug’s milk glass. He grabbed my hand.
“He still sees you. He thinks you are different,” he told me. I sat down next to him.
“Who thinks I am different, Dug?”
He looked at his cars. “I know things. I don’t know his name though. He is just the neighboring man to me. I am so sorry I am so stupid.”
I lifted his chin up to look at me. “People misjudge you, because you are different, Dug. You are NOT stupid. I am your friend and I don’t ever want to hear you say that again. You know more than most people know and feel more than most. That is a good thing, Dug. That is a very good thing.”
“Ev, I am scared.” He whispered. “I think the neighboring man might hurt you. He may love you but he will not know how to love. His soul is black. It has hatred in it.”
“I will be okay. I have been taking care of myself for a good while. I am good at it,” I lied. “Don’t be scared. I am a tough old broad, just like my grandmother was.”
“She was tough?”
“Oh Dug, she was a tough old bird,” I told him. “She was a lot like your Ma. God puts troubles in only those shoes of people who are tough enough to handle it. Just like you, Dug. You are a tough bird too.”
“I love you, Ev. We are best friends,” he told me.
“Yes, we are the best of friends,” I agreed. “Now let me get this milk for you.” I stood up and went into the kitchen.
Ness looked at me and smiled. “I heard what you said to him. You are good people, Ev. There are so few good people left out there. It is nice to have one sitting in my house, being a friend to me and my son.”
“Ness, I like you both. It is nice being here with you and Dug.” I told her and took the milk back out to Dug. “I could warm it for you, if you want.”
He smiled a lopsided grin. “I like it like this. I will be tidy, finish the milk, and put my cars up. Got a big day tomorrow; big, big day. I will go to bed soon. It’s getting darker, Ev. You should go home soon. Walk on Potomac Street to your home.”
“Tell her thank you for the milk, Dug,” Ness told him from the kitchen.
“Thank you for the milk,” he told me.
I winked at him. “No problem.”
I went into the kitchen and freshened up my coffee. “Ness, let me hear the rest of the story.”
Ness looked at me, her eyes were tired and I could see that she was tired. “Bernie was in labor all night. She screamed and breathed and I tried to comfort her. I had used three sheets so far and they were soaked through with blood. I thought I should run the seven miles to the nearest neighbor and get help. Bernie grabbed my hand and begged me not to leave.
‘You can’t leave me, you can’t,’ she begged. ‘I can’t have this baby without you. I can’t.’
‘I won’t leave,’ I promised her. I was scared to death. I knew she was losing too much blood by that time. I knew there was nothing I could do.
‘I need to push,’ she told me. Her face was red with exertion; her hair wet with sweat, the inside of her thighs slick with blood. ‘Look between my legs,’ she told me. ‘Look for the head,” she said she sounded so much older than fourteen and again I cursed my parents. I went and looked between her legs. I could see a patch of dark pubic hair as well as a head poking through.
‘The head is there,’ I told her. I was amazed. The head was covered in dark hair.
She smiled. ‘Good. I want you to put a fresh sheet down and then push my legs up while I push.” I did what she said. She grunted and cried. More blood came out and shit and the smell was so strong I thought I would pass out, but I didn’t, she grunted and pushed some more and a small little person slid out of her. The baby was still connected to her.
‘It’s out,’ I told her.
It wasn’t crying. The baby wasn’t crying. Weren’t babies supposed to cry? I picked the baby up and cleared the blood and mucus from its nose. I heard a wheeze. I started patting its back. It still wouldn’t cry. I swatted its bottom and shrill came out of that little person. I took a clean sheet and folded it smaller and wrapped the baby up. The baby was a boy. The baby was still attached to my sister. Bernie reached out her arms for her baby. I gave him to her, she put him to her chest and put a nipple in his mouth. I looked at her. She was so devoid of any color.
‘He is beautiful,’ she whispered. ‘He will know things that others won’t.’
I moved closer to her. ‘He is so beautiful.’
‘I am dying,’ she told me. ‘I feel so weak. I just want to sleep, but let me hold my baby, Ness.’
‘You are going to be fine,’ I told her. I put a fresh sheet under her to absorb more blood. I knew I had to do something to separate the baby from her. I ran to the kitchen and got the sharpest knife I could find, steamed it under warm water and then held it over the flame of the stove. I ran back into the bedroom; Bernie was still holding the baby, he was suckling her breast. Her eyes were heavy.
‘I need to cut the cord, Bernie.’ I took the knife and cut the cord close to the baby’s belly. I pinched it off and looked around for something to tie it off with. I pulled the rubber band from Bernie’s hair and wrapped it tightly around the nub. He was still suckling. He was a miracle. I looked at Bernie and she smiled weakly.
‘Don’t forget his name,’ she told me. ‘It’s Duglas-D-U-G-L-A-S, Raphael- like the angel.’
Tears were streaming down my face. ‘It’s a beautiful name.’
‘He is special, Ness. He will have a gift of sight,’ Bernie said softly. Her eyes were looking far off.
I didn’t know what she was looking at. She looked so peaceful. ‘Thank you for coming with me. Tell momma and daddy I forgive them. I love you, Ness. Raise him right.’ She closed her eyes and held that baby boy suckling her breast until she died. I lay next to her and cried until I passed out.
When I woke up several hours later, I heard a mewing sound. I was confused at first and then I remembered the baby. I wanted to kick myself for falling asleep so long. He was still lying on Bernie,eyes looking around. It was then that I noticed that his eyes were slanted and his fingers were shorter than they should have been. I didn’t care. He was perfect to me. He was a part of my sister, who was lying on the bed dead. Tears began to fall from my eyes. I checked Bernie just to be sure, felt for her pulse, but I knew she was dead. I knew and my heart knew. I gently picked up Duglas. I took him in the bathroom and warmed a wash rag and began to wash the blood off of him. He was so tiny. He had a dark thatch or hair and cherub lips, but he had slanted eyes and his fingers and toes were short little nubs. I knew he wasn’t “normal” but I vowed right then and there that I would love him and raise him, just like Bernie wanted me to. I knew my parents wouldn’t stand for it, but I didn’t care. I would leave if I had to. I would be this baby’s mother and no one was going to stop me. After I cleaned Duglas off, I made a make shift diaper out of cup towel and swaddled him in blanket. He was precious.
“It’s okay, little Dug. I love you. You are safe with me,” I told him and kissed his forehead. “You are loved. Your mommy loved you and died having you but I will take care of you. You can call me your Ma.” He made another mewing sound and I felt in my heart he understood everything I was telling him. I held him close to my chest and we began the walk to the neighbors who were miles away. I knew I needed to get Dug checked out at the hospital and needed an ambulance to come get my beloved sister. I was still processing her death. At that moment, even though I was filled with love for this baby, the beautiful gift my sister left me, I was overcome with hate for my parents. I felt they were partly responsible for Bernie’s death. How could they have sent her away?
As I walked to the neighbors, the grocery man was driving down the street and picked me and Dug up and took us to the hospital.
‘What’s wrong with his eyes and fingers?’ the grocery man asked.
‘I don’t know. I don’t care. He is a gift,” I told him. I realized I probably sounded crazy to him. Crazy and unbalanced. He just looked at me as if marbles were falling out of my ears. ‘My sister died having him.’ I said in a whisper. ‘I couldn’t save her.’
He looked at me sadly. ‘It isn’t your fault.’ I could tell he was uncomfortable but trying to be kind.
I looked at him and said: ‘Thank you.’
He smiled shyly. He wasn’t much older than me. He pulled into the hospital and I got out. Dug was sleeping and mewing in his sleep. I wondered what he was dreaming about. I wondered if he was dreaming of suckling his mother’s breast and if he knew how much she loved him.
‘Do you want me to wait with you?’ grocery man asked kindly.
‘No, but thank you for offering.’
I walked in that hospital with my head held high and told the nurse what had happened. The doctor looked Dug over and said more than likely, he would be labeled retarded. He asked me if I wanted to put him in an orphanage, and wanted me to be prepared that more than likely he would live his life in an institution. I looked at that doctor. He was mad to think I would ever do that. He was very unsympathetic and didn’t seem to care that I had lost my sister. He looked at Dug as if he were a stray that needed to be euthanized.
‘He will be living with me, Doctor,’ I told him. ‘I helped my sister bring him into the world. I promised her I would love him and raise him and I plan to keep that promise. Your compassion is so lacking that I have no other words to say to you except: Go fuck yourself.”
His jaw dropped. To this day, I still love that I told him that. I hated that doctor. He had no idea who I was, who my sister was and how much this baby, he had labeled retarded, meant to me. I walked out of the exam room and went and sat in the waiting room to wait for my parents. I sat there with a bitter taste in my mouth and a hole in my heart that represented my sister. She was the other half of me and she was gone. The reality hit me, tears slid down my cheeks, and I held sweet Duglas closer to my heart, hoping he would feel that void.
Ness looked at me and her eyes were glistening. “Ev, I still miss my sister to this very day.”
I reached across the table and put my hand on hers. “I can imagine. She would be so proud of you. You are such a strong woman and look how great Dug turned out.”
She smiled. “He is the greatest gift I have ever received. Oh, don’t think there haven’t been rough times. My mother did not understand. They both didn’t understand Dug’s differences. “
“They didn’t love, Dug?”
She let out a derisive laugh. “They didn’t want to love him. They resented him and blamed him for Bernie’s death.”
She went and got a cookie. “These are good, Ev.”
“Thanks.” I replied. “Are you trying to avoid telling me about your parent’s reaction to Bernie’s death?”
“A little,” she admitted. “I would like to tell you that on another evening. Sometimes, the memories are really hard on my nerves and I don’t want Dug to notice my mood change.”
“I understand that,” I told her. “It’s getting late anyway. I need to get home.”
I got up from my chair. Ness got up and followed me to the door.
Dug was waiting at the door for me. “I love you, Ev. Go down Potomac tonight, okay. That way you will get home all safe and tidy.”
I smiled at him. “Dug, you worry too much. You are a good friend.” I kissed him on the forehead.
He blushed. “I am good and tidy; a good and tidy friend, but the neighboring man is not. He is not good and tidy, so go down Potomac.”
I looked at Ness. She gave me a look that bordered on being frightened. I was feeling foolish for taking what Dug said seriously. I gave both of them hugs and started home. My gut told me to take Potomac home and my brain said I was being ridiculous.
I took Potomac. It would be nice to have a change of scenery for my run home. That is what I told myself anyway.