pregnant and ...”
“I know, Meg. My God, I know.” she said softly.
“How?”
“I always knew. You bleeding because you’re losing it?” Her voice was tinged with ice, very odd as my mother was normally warm and
loving.
“No, it’s a polyp or something. They need to take it out.”
Now she spoke to my father. “I was right. She’s pregnant.”
I heard my father saying something unintelligible. I heard things crashing and
banging in the background.
“Your father is slamming furniture. Punching walls. What hospital?” Her tone remained icy.
They were there within the hour.
My father grimaced when a nurse set milk and cookies on a tray before me. He
waited until she left and then told me in his matter of fact way. “You give it up. Ain’t no way you’re going to raise a kid.”
“Who’s the father?” asked my mother.
“A trucker. He went to ’Nam. I can’t get in touch with him.” I lied about the ’Nam part.
“Why did God do this? I can’t deal with the shame.” My mother wrung her hands.
My father turned to her and spoke gruffly. “Anne, keep your cool for the sake of your health. You know what’s happening. It wasn’t God that did this. Now it’s best we make plans.” He touched my cheek. “I’m sorry. I should have paid more attention.” He rose from his chair and went to the window.
My mother sat there, head bowed, mouthing something about the neighbors and the
dishonor I’d caused the family.
My father spoke slowly, deliberately as he stared into night’s landscape. “He’s out there somewhere in the dark, moving along just like nothing happened, like
he hasn’t caused any hurt.”
“You shut up. Don’t try to blame this on superstition. On things we did a long time ago.” My mother snapped at him.
My father turned. Tears streaked his face. “In the beginning I thought those things would help my family, but he’s a damn trickster.”
“You’re upset, Barry,” my mother told him in a robotic voice.
“Let’s go,” he said as he whisked by my bed. “We’ll be back when it’s light.”
My mother rose and followed him, head bent, tears spattering on the worn tile
floor.
Alone in the dimly lit room I thought about things my father prayed to when I
was a child and about the handshake he’d once made in the dark.
I drifted to sleep. Dreams of Ken driving in darkness emerged. Screams echoed
from the trailer. Blackbirds circled above him.
My father’s voice erupted through the eerie sounds of night, “... he’s a damn trickster.”
* * *
The operation was short and painless. The growth was a benign polyp.
My parents ushered me out of the hospital two days later.
My father had everything planned right down to the last detail. He even went to
the diner and talked to Luke about giving me a leave of absence. “Got to keep your job secure. Lord knows how long it’ll take you to find something else once this is over.”
I was taken off the diner’s schedule until June. I wondered if the other waitresses, the cooks and
customers whispered about me in hushed tones.
Beth went on a ski trip to Canada for Christmas. Jen and her family drove up to
Buffalo to celebrate with Jack’s parents. Dad would have normally argued with my sisters, insisted they
belonged here with us, but he just wished them well. Then he told my mother it
was best we didn’t celebrate Christmas at all.
He arranged for my stay at the Amelia Leech Home. I heard him talking soft and
low on the phone to someone there. His hands shook after he hung up and I swear
he looked as though something scared the hell out of him. He didn’t speak much until we arrived on a cold day when snow and sleet came down in
torrents.
I felt the darkness as soon as I stepped inside.
We were ushered into Marsha Walker’s office. She didn’t smile. She motioned for us to take seats in front of her desk. Always the
stoic one; dark hair in an upswept, dark suit. Heavy
“I know, Meg. My God, I know.” she said softly.
“How?”
“I always knew. You bleeding because you’re losing it?” Her voice was tinged with ice, very odd as my mother was normally warm and
loving.
“No, it’s a polyp or something. They need to take it out.”
Now she spoke to my father. “I was right. She’s pregnant.”
I heard my father saying something unintelligible. I heard things crashing and
banging in the background.
“Your father is slamming furniture. Punching walls. What hospital?” Her tone remained icy.
They were there within the hour.
My father grimaced when a nurse set milk and cookies on a tray before me. He
waited until she left and then told me in his matter of fact way. “You give it up. Ain’t no way you’re going to raise a kid.”
“Who’s the father?” asked my mother.
“A trucker. He went to ’Nam. I can’t get in touch with him.” I lied about the ’Nam part.
“Why did God do this? I can’t deal with the shame.” My mother wrung her hands.
My father turned to her and spoke gruffly. “Anne, keep your cool for the sake of your health. You know what’s happening. It wasn’t God that did this. Now it’s best we make plans.” He touched my cheek. “I’m sorry. I should have paid more attention.” He rose from his chair and went to the window.
My mother sat there, head bowed, mouthing something about the neighbors and the
dishonor I’d caused the family.
My father spoke slowly, deliberately as he stared into night’s landscape. “He’s out there somewhere in the dark, moving along just like nothing happened, like
he hasn’t caused any hurt.”
“You shut up. Don’t try to blame this on superstition. On things we did a long time ago.” My mother snapped at him.
My father turned. Tears streaked his face. “In the beginning I thought those things would help my family, but he’s a damn trickster.”
“You’re upset, Barry,” my mother told him in a robotic voice.
“Let’s go,” he said as he whisked by my bed. “We’ll be back when it’s light.”
My mother rose and followed him, head bent, tears spattering on the worn tile
floor.
Alone in the dimly lit room I thought about things my father prayed to when I
was a child and about the handshake he’d once made in the dark.
I drifted to sleep. Dreams of Ken driving in darkness emerged. Screams echoed
from the trailer. Blackbirds circled above him.
My father’s voice erupted through the eerie sounds of night, “... he’s a damn trickster.”
* * *
The operation was short and painless. The growth was a benign polyp.
My parents ushered me out of the hospital two days later.
My father had everything planned right down to the last detail. He even went to
the diner and talked to Luke about giving me a leave of absence. “Got to keep your job secure. Lord knows how long it’ll take you to find something else once this is over.”
I was taken off the diner’s schedule until June. I wondered if the other waitresses, the cooks and
customers whispered about me in hushed tones.
Beth went on a ski trip to Canada for Christmas. Jen and her family drove up to
Buffalo to celebrate with Jack’s parents. Dad would have normally argued with my sisters, insisted they
belonged here with us, but he just wished them well. Then he told my mother it
was best we didn’t celebrate Christmas at all.
He arranged for my stay at the Amelia Leech Home. I heard him talking soft and
low on the phone to someone there. His hands shook after he hung up and I swear
he looked as though something scared the hell out of him. He didn’t speak much until we arrived on a cold day when snow and sleet came down in
torrents.
I felt the darkness as soon as I stepped inside.
We were ushered into Marsha Walker’s office. She didn’t smile. She motioned for us to take seats in front of her desk. Always the
stoic one; dark hair in an upswept, dark suit. Heavy
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