“Where the hell were you???!!” booms around the room as I try to pull in the stroller without collapsing. I stumble into the living room and he’s sitting on the couch, his jacket still on. Maybe he just got here…“What are you doing?” He barks. I unbundle the babies, and start stammering, spinning my story how Linus had fever. The last time she had fever we waited too long to see the doctor…she was so sick…we were up for three days and scared. I was up for three days and scared…
He’s watching me intensely and I tremble. “And you went to that bastard quack?” Again I spin as I go along…it’s too far, too cold for us to walk downtown…you’re very busy and can’t really take us…then I say the magic words…this doctor gives us free medication…which I spill out of my pockets, proof of where I’ve been.
He gets up and I stiffen. He picks up Linus. “Did you go to the doctor?” She shakes her head yes…”Nina and Boo “ahhhhh” and she sticks out her tongue to show him what they did for the doctor. And she tells him they had cookies. I feel my legs going and I’m holding Boo…Don’t fall…only then I realize that this little bit of girl can talk enough to tell him many things…I wait to hear we go store buy jamas…”Nina and Mom and Boo eat a samich…and a picko!” Merciful God…she just puts her head down on his shoulder. She’s tired.
He grumbles “The only good thing about that place is the receptionist makes great cookies.” I almost start laughing. In my terror, I forgot that she does keep fresh baked cookies for cranky kids and tired parents. The beauty of how this dovetails with my lie to cover the innocent words of a baby. And he’s the one to spin my lie to an end.
“Why are you here in the middle of your busy schedule?” I sound like a recording. “I had an unexpected delivery at the end of the street and I thought you and the kids could keep me company on the long ride to Mennonite country.” My jaw almost drops. “But since Linus isn’t feeling well, it’s not a good idea.” He kisses her head and gives her to me. And he leaves…
I stand there and rock the babies and listen as he locks the door, walks down the steps, past the side window. I rock and sing as he opens the car door, closes the car door, starts the car, crunches out of the driveway. I stand there and rock and sing until the sounds tell me he’s gone. I rock and pray that Linus won’t really get sick because of what I did. I rock and thank God we could not go for that ride…My head is filled with images of going for a drive and he throws me out on some back road in the middle of nowhere in the cold night, far from the closest place. Worse he throws me and both babies out there…I stop rocking and take two sleeping babies to their warm beds.
We have a stand up shower in the hallway because there’s only a tub in the bath. So the owner stuck this ugly white metal shower in the space under the stairs that lead to nasty Jenkins place. It looks like a giant rusting bread box tipped on its end. Now I run the water as hot as I can tolerate. And I get in, clothes and all and slide down to the bottom. I’m in such pain… muscles clenched tight by wholesale terror. I will stay here in the hot water until it loosens its grip…on my body, on my heart, and on my soul and I can cry…
Next -> Memory Bouquet
Tags: medication, purgatory, thank God, wholesale terror